A/N: Thank-you for continuing to read! Things are gonna pick up in the push to the end!

XXX

When Mary and Marshall woke the next morning, it was to find Sam already up and dressed and downstairs chomping his breakfast with Carolyn, banging the table of his high chair happily. His grandmother was sitting at the counter, sipping coffee and perusing the newspaper while a light drizzle fell outside the window.

"Mom…" Marshall greeted her, eyes traveling from her to Sam and back again. "You didn't have to get Sam up."

"Please," Carolyn waved a no-nonsense hand. "I heard his little voice through the crack in the door about seven o'clock. He was being such a good little man; I couldn't leave him. Besides…I miss having a breakfast companion," she leaned over and rubbed noses with her grandson, who blinked furiously but seemed to enjoy the attention just the same.

"What was he saying?" Mary asked as she laid a kiss on her boy's head making her way to the coffee pot.

"Something about you," Carolyn took a dreg from her steaming mug.

"Me?" Mary was bewildered. She poured herself a cup and stood across from Carolyn to get the details while Marshall gave Sam a few more Lucky Charms scattered on his tray.

"Hard to say," Carolyn conceded, eyeing Sam with skepticism. "Just a lot of 'mama-mama.' I caught 'horse' a few times."

"He was asking for me?" Mary was flabbergasted, but Marshall evidently had something else in mind.

"Do you think he remembers yesterday?" he chuckled incredulously, hardly daring to consider the possibility.

"You're the baby expert," Mary informed him, grabbing a muffin from inside the breadbox stationed on the counter. "You tell me."

"I don't really know what their recall capacity is like," he admitted. "How much they can take in before they forget it. Something stuck with him, that's for sure," and he rumpled Sam's hair affectionately.

As Mary stepped over to her husband and son, she couldn't help thinking it was a nice picture – Sam dreaming about flowing fields of flowers and rosebuds, riding horseback with his dad, that weightless and suspended feeling like you were floating in midair but couldn't crash to the ground.

"Another beautiful day," Marshall remarked before Mary could utter any of this, jerking his head at the window to his right where rain fell softly in the puddles on the deck, already hollow from the storm the other night.

"I think it's cozy," Carolyn told him. "Cool and grey…perfect for a nap or a good book."

Mary could not remember the last time she'd taken a nap and she probably hadn't engaged in pleasure reading since high school. Even then it had been limited. Still, she wasn't sure what else she and Marshall were going to do today and fielding calls from Stan before their departure the following morning was likely to suck up some of their time anyway.

"I think I'll take the sheriff here to get cleaned up," she voiced aloud, hoisting Sam out of his high chair, face smeared with milk from his bottle.

Taking him to the sink, she sat him on the counter and wet a washcloth to wipe him up.

"Come on bud, don't…" she was forced to say when he wiggled away from her clutches, not wanting his face prodded and poked. "It'll take two seconds…"

She ended up chasing him with one hand and holding his leg with the other so he wouldn't stumble off the counter all together. So intent on getting him to sit still, she didn't notice Carolyn leave to grab laundry. She was therefore surprised when Marshall snuck up behind her, threw his arms around her waist and spun her around to face him.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked as she stared up into his shiny blue eyes, no scorn evident in her tone.

"Loving on my lady," he said, cheesy as ever. "Got a problem with that?"

"Um…" she rolled her eyes. "Maybe. Since we're in your mother's kitchen and you know how I feel about public displays of affection," she poked her finger into his chest at these words and distinctly felt him squeeze her backside in response.

"I like seeing you smile," was his response. "Sue me."

"Might just have to," she smirked for his benefit and stood on tiptoe to kiss him, square and sound on the lips.

She was still smooching on him, long and low, when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Tearing only half her mouth away, Marshall's breath hot on her neck, she only heard two words.

"Leave it," he said hoarsely. Clearly, he had other things on his mind.

"I can't; it could be Stan," she reasoned, knowing she had to keep the level head at the moment.

He captured her lips a second time before letting her slink out of his arms, however reluctantly, a poor and sad looking pout on his face. Maneuvering the Blackberry out of her back pocket, she tossed Marshall the washcloth still hanging limply in her right hand.

"Work on Smush," she instructed – a bad response to the mock-disappointment in his features.

"I'd rather work on you," he teased playfully, running up and down her cheek now instead of her mouth. She couldn't stop herself from giggling; his touch was tickly and fine, the smallest strands putting every fiber in her skin on high alert.

Resigned to letting him be a slave to his hormones, Marshall was still kissing her neck when she finally answered the phone without thinking to check who it was.

"Hello?" she said with a stupid schoolgirl grin on her face.

An odd sort of muffled noise came through the speaker and Mary felt the doubt creep in, furrowing her brow and losing the smile.

"Mary…Mary…"

There was no mistaking that hoarse voice, scratchier than usual because it was obviously hung high and fraught with tears.

"Brandi?" she prompted, and she immediately pulled – hard – away from Marshall to listen properly. He stumbled against the counter, but didn't look offended.

"Brandi, what's wrong?" she went on before her sister could answer.

And yet she thought she had a very shrewd idea what was wrong. It made her heart race. Not now – not now. They were in Kansas, hundreds of miles away. Not now…

"Mary…I'm scared; I'm scared…" she gulped, swallowing to take a breath.

"Squish, calm down," she implored, turning on her Marshal voice. "Calm down. What's going on?"

Marshall had taken pause too, holding Sam with one hand to the counter and waiting expectantly for the news.

Mary could hear Brandi breathing fast, trying to get a grip before she spoke again, and Mary pulled in all of her resolve to be patient.

"It's the baby…" she finally managed, which brought on a fresh round of sobs. "I think the baby's coming…"

Mary's first thought, one that she was grateful she managed not to voice aloud because it would only upset Brandi further, was that it was too soon. She backtracked before speaking again; reminding herself that thirty-six weeks, while not full term was not horrendous and they could certainly deal with it.

"Brandi, you need to be sure," was her sage advice. "You're a few weeks away yet; it could be false labor…"

At these words, Marshall gathered the still-smudgy Sam into his arms, efficiently wiping up his face which got him nothing but a loud squeal. Mary had to press her index finger to her ear to be certain she could hear Brandi.

"Mary, it's the real thing," she assured her with more conviction than her sister was anticipating. "My water broke."

Oh, shit.

Still, all was not lost. It was Brandi's first pregnancy; her labor would be long. They would get back in plenty of time to see her little one hit the ground running.

"Squish, where are you?" Mary wanted to know. "Call Peter or call an ambulance; you need to go the hospital."

She fought hard to stay moderate, but anxiety was creeping into every pore of her body. She had never been good with anything pregnancy-related, least of all her own experience.

"Peter's not here!" Brandi shouted, the words wrenching against the static in the phone and making Mary's pulse quicken severely. "He's back in Santa Fe to close that deal; the meeting is this afternoon. He wanted to get it wrapped up before the baby came…"

She was really bawling now, coming completely apart and Mary knew she could not do the same when she was like this.

"Well, call mom!" she demanded, voice rising a little hysterically against her will.

"She's in Roswell!" were her next earth-shattering words. "Don't you remember? I told you she was taking the girls to that dance competition; she left early this morning!"

"Jesus Christ…" Mary breathed, covering her eyes with her hand as the severity of the circumstances hit her.

Her mind worked furiously, using her training as a US Marshal to figure out what was to be done. Santa Fe really wasn't that far away. She guessed Peter had his phone off if he was in a meeting, but she could get Stan to track where he'd gone – what building – and they could get a hold of him that way. Jinx was another story. Roswell was almost two and a half hours from Albuquerque. Who knew what could happen in that space of time?

Before she could rationalize with Brandi, both her sister and her husband spoke at once.

"What do you need?" were Marshall's words.

"Mary, I'm so afraid…tell me what to do…please tell me what to do…"

Mary flashed her eyes to Marshall, and it was his steadfast and stable phrase that rang in her ears, Brandi's plea a distant hum.

She made the decision without even thinking twice. You did what had to be done.

"Marshall and I are on our way."

The effect was instantaneous. Marshall was out of the room, Sam in his grip, back upstairs in an instant to start packing their suitcases. Vaguely, Mary wondered if there was even a flight to Albuquerque, especially with the rain but that wasn't what was really on her mind right now.

"Brandi, listen to me," she said firmly as she followed Marshall up the steps. "Call an ambulance. You have plenty of time before you deliver."

She hoped that was true.

"We will find Peter, but you need to stay strong," she emphasized as they reached Sam's room. "Stay strong. Can you do that?"

The answer was clearly a resounding 'no' but Brandi's terminology was different.

"Mary, it hurts…" she cried, sniffling loudly into her ear. "I don't remember how to breathe…"

"No-no-no; yes you do, yes you do," Mary shot that theory down at once. "You went to Lamaze; you're gonna be fine. Stay calm and don't freak out," she stressed. "You'll have a much harder time if you're all worked up, you understand?"

It wasn't the most comforting of phrases, but it was a fact. Holding onto the phone with her shoulder, she helped Marshall throw Sam's clothes into his suitcase, which he zipped once it was full and headed back into the hall. Sam himself was toddling around contentedly and was more than happy to follow Marshall to the guest room to pack their bags.

"It's early…" Brandi fretted, ignoring Mary's suggestion. "I'm not forty weeks. What's going to happen?"

"Listen," Mary interrupted, louder and more sternly this time. She stationed herself outside the guest room door to give Marshall more space to get everything hauled together.

"You'll be all right. I'm coming, okay? Hang in there," she adopted a more sympathetic tone as she said this.

Brandi was breathing deeply, attempting to pull it together but it was obvious she was still struggling – lost and alone – and Mary found herself wishing she could fix it. Right now.

"Listen Squish; I'll get out of here a lot faster if I can get off the phone and start packing," why she expected Brandi to appreciate rational thought at the moment was beyond her, but it was worth a try.

"Mary, I'm scared…" she whispered for about the fifth time, but her sister shook her head even if Brandi couldn't see her.

"Don't be scared," she stated, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Women do it every day. Including me, including you. Call the hospital and I will work on finding Peter. You can do that right?"

She'd have to.

"Mary, I need you," she declared baldly, without bravado.

"I know; I'm on my way. I'll call when I know something."

It was the only way they were going to end this and get things moving.

"Please hurry," her sister pleaded; all truth and emotions on the line.

"I'll do my best."

And Mary hung up. She thought the minute she'd let her go she'd be racing in to help Marshall, to say goodbye to Carolyn and get out the door as quickly as possible, but she was strangely numb with the absence of Brandi's hysteria in her ears. Her breath was loud inside her head; she could hear every gasp as she just stood there.

It was like her baby sister was really a baby all over again. She needed taking care of; she was frightened, little, alone, and lost. And Mary knew all she had to do was get to her as fast as she could.

Eventually, she forced herself to turn inside and ran smack into Marshall barreling out with the suitcase, Sam dancing between them.

"What's going on?" he asked, although clearly he already knew because he went on, "Is Brandi in labor?"

Mary nodded slowly, phone still in her palm where she'd hit the 'off' button.

"Her water break already?"

Another nod, blank and unfocused.

"Peter's in Santa Fe," she reported flatly. "Mom's in Roswell."

Marshall whistled, long and low, but her heart took flight with his next words.

"We better get going."

He understood – he always understood. Mary had never thought of herself as a lucky person; she forever envisioned herself some cursed individual with perpetual and continual poor fortune. How she ended up with someone as great as Marshall, she didn't even know.

"Is she okay?" he prompted, clearly as worried as his wife was about the woman who had become his sister-in-law.

Mary just shrugged, not sure why she was being so distant. Marshall, determined to fix that, lowered his gaze to look into her eyes and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Mary wasn't. She didn't even know why. How could the switch have flipped so abruptly? She'd kept her head with Brandi but when left to her own devices she was a wreck. It was taking her back to her own days of pregnancy and her own labor with Sam. All she knew was that if she hadn't had Marshall on that fateful day, she would've most certainly flipped out. And that was Brandi's situation right now.

Before she could respond to his question, the sound of footsteps met their ears and Carolyn returned with a basket of laundry and a concerned look on her face.

"What happened?" she wanted to know.

Mary was unsure how much she'd heard, but clearly enough to know something wasn't right.

"Is something wrong? Back at home?"

Knowing Mary wasn't going to be able to relay the information, Marshall picked up the slack.

"Mary's sister's having her baby," he told her. "We're gonna have to cut the trip short so we can get back to her."

No details. And Carolyn didn't need them.

"Oh, of course!" she proclaimed, which made the ache recede in Mary's chest just slightly. "I hope you can get a flight. Come here Sammy; say goodbye to grandma…"

As Carolyn reached down to hug Sam and plant kiss after kiss on his rosy cheeks, Marshall put his arm around his wife and tilted his head against hers, knocking their temples together. He murmured in her ear, words of reassurance and comfort.

"She's gonna be all right," he promised. "You're doing everything you can. We'll be there soon."

For the third time, but with much more confidence, Mary nodded.

A/N: Mary's back to being Mary – at least in part! I hope you all will approve of the way I continue to tell the remainder of the story, because it's a little different. Stay tuned!