Author's Note: Hey. So, the finale's tonight. I still need to finish the latest two episodes (I know that Marshall moved in with the Bumpkin and that Oscar is gone) and I honestly am not looking forward to tonight. Last summer's finale pissed me off and I have a sinking feeling that this one will be just as bad, if not worse. We'll see. I'll try to update Entangled later this week and I have an idea for an angsty oneshot with Mary's head firmly and permanently out of her ass. What happens tonight will determine whether it's going to be a happy ending or not.

On the subject of endings and finales, I think Resolution has served its purpose as to righting old wrongs. It's time to focus on the inevitable new ones so I'll be wrapping this fic up with an epilogue next update. I'd like to take the time to thank you all for reading, reviewing, and enjoying this latest scribble on the IPS wall and I look forward to continuing in this fandom.

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

"You want me to be your Maid of Honor? Brandi, you know I'm not good at crap like this. I'm not girly and giggly and shiny and…"

"…and that's why I want you to do it! What with mom and the girls from back in Jersey, I need someone realistic and you know me better than anyone! You'll keep it from turning into a clusterfuck!"

"Squish, your last name is Shannon! Anything involving formality is a guaranteed clusterfuck!" Mary quipped with raised brows, making them laugh.

"True...but you'll make sure that it's the good kind! Come on, Mary, please? I need my big sister with me and you can totally get Marshall in on this! I bet once you take him out of those god awful cowboy boots and put him in a tux, he'll make 007 look like Drew Carey!", Brandi wheedled.

"He already does and I like his cowboy boots." Mary pointed out defensively while grabbing a bridal magazine off of the stack.

"Oh, you've got it so bad…"

She rolled her eyes and kept looking through the thick, glossy pages, noting that each "blushing bride" had the same smile. She kept flipping, shaking her head in disapproval as the dresses went from Little Bo Peep to Stripperella to Princess Di to…

Her eyes locked on Dress #35 and she cocked her head. It was floor length and silky looking, the spaghetti straps accented by lace doily-ish material attached. There was just enough cleavage to get the groom's attention but it was modestly sexy, classy even. Mary idly traced the tiny snowdrop embroidery that flowed down like a waterfall on the right side and she could easily see Squish rocking it.

More to the point, she could see herself rocking it.

"Oh, that's perfect, Mare! See, you are good at crap like this and I even have some shoes that'll match the embroidery!" Brandi practically squealed while bolting towards the bedroom she shared with Peter.

Mary barely heard her as her imagination locked on her potential wedding day. Unlike before, the images weren't a nightmarish horror of tulle, organ music, and chains. They weren't putting her in a huge cathedral full of people she didn't know and there was no "proper" groom (Mark, Raph…) holding a gun to the back of her head as she stammered through overly rehearsed vows. The ring wasn't a spiked collar from her finger to her neck, tightening slowly and trapping her…

There was Marshall. They were in a judge's chambers…no, a summer field with a judge under an arch of blue and yellow flowers. She could see Squish and Peter, Stan, Jinx, Seth Mann and a swarm of beaming Manns sitting in folding chairs. Her dress was white and a shorter, simpler version of #35, the hem and her hair blowing in a warm breeze. Her feet were bare and in the center of her bouquet of roses was her sig, unloaded for safety's sake. In her mind, Marshall grinned at the sight of the gun and shrugged off his suit jacket, revealing his own gun in a black leather shoulder holster, doubling her and their family over with laughter…

Is this what I want from him? I mean, we're together and intend on staying that way but do I want the ceremony, the piece of paper on file, the hyphenated name because I'm so not dropping mine, no matter how crappy my legacy is…

If you didn't want it, Cowgirl then you wouldn't already be running Inspector Mary Shannon-Mann through your head. Sounds good, doesn't it?, her inner voice pointed out warmly, poking her in the arm gently.

Yeah. Yeah, it does.

"Squish, I gotta go! Call me later!", she hollered.

"Where are you…?"

The slam of the door cut her off.

/

"Marshall, have you ever thought of marrying me?", she questioned softly.

He almost slipped on the wet tile but he caught himself on the wall. Sticking his head out of the shower curtain, he saw Mary sitting on the sink. She had come home from Brandi's, lost in thought, the same pattern of thinking that led him to chasing her to Cancun. Instead of fear, there had been confusion, keeping him from leaping to horrible conclusions. She had come in about 5 minutes before, uncharacteristically silent and he had been about to ask if she was okay…

"Yes.", he replied honestly.

"Recently?"

The sound of the shower seemed to be distant and his heart started to race.

"Yes.", he confirmed.

She looked at him fixedly for about 30 seconds and then started nibbling on her lower lip.

"If I asked you to get hitched, would you say yes? I mean, we've only officially been dating for about 2 months but we've been together damn near 10 years and…well, when I was helping Squish with her wedding stuff…it made me think that…well, getting married to you wouldn't suck. I mean, it wouldn't be perfect. After all, you're still a fucking nerdy bastard sometimes and I'm still a fucking self-destructive bitch nearly all the time but…I…well, I…shit!"

Reaching in her pocket, she pulled out a simple gold band and put it in the palm of her now shaking hand, standing in front of him defiantly. Was she really about to…was he dreaming? Please don't let him be dreaming

"I'm not getting on one knee. That's not my style and we both know it but I am asking you to marry me. I want you to be my husband until we die and more importantly, I want to be your wife until we die. I think I always have in the back of my head so…and...yeah. Will you marry me, Doofus?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Hell yes, Mare."

"Really?"

Chuckling, he slipped the band on his left ring finger, watching as relief and joy flooded her eyes.

"Really. Nothing would make me happier than to marry you, love.", he declared as a near manic grin split her face in two.

His head (and the shower curtain) made brutal contact with the wall as she pounced on him but he ignored the throbbing pain in favor of hugging his Mary…his fiancée close to his chest, kissing her hard and deep like he would for the rest of their lives…the rest of their lives

They were getting married.