A/N: This is it, folks! It's been a fun ride!

XXX

It had been a long time since Mary had looked at the stars. They were smaller than she remembered – more pinprick like. Just these itty-bitty specks, like dots or paint splatters on a canvas of black. Well, not black really. More like navy. She'd forgotten that too; the sky wasn't really so pitch on even the darkest nights. There was the tiniest hint of indigo beneath, reminding you that the true blue did linger somewhere inside. It wasn't going to be shadowy forever – grey maybe, even cloudy. But the sun, along with its forget-me-not, would indeed penetrate again someday.

"When do those experts say the sun is gonna burn out, doofus?" Mary asked Marshall, sitting to her right.

"Varies…" he supplied. "Depends."

His hand was on her backside. It made her heart beat sadistically in her ribcage.

"Six billion years, perhaps. But it'll burn brighter up until that time. Fascinating, huh?" he decided.

"If, by fascinating, you mean astonishingly boring; then yeah, I guess," Mary quipped.

She gave him a second on that, waiting to see if he was going to press it. When he did nothing of the kind, she turned to look at him and all he could do was smile. It was soft and understated, but stood out far more than anything above.

"When do these things go off?" Mary wanted to know, attempting to feed him a very irritated glance. "I'm not sitting on my ass all night."

The pair of them were seated on Marshall's old desk on the roof of the Sunshine Building; the place to which it had been demoted with his promotion. The box fans in the wall were whirring, mingling almost pleasantly with the cicadas. The spindly little black table in the corner was rickety in the warm breeze. Mary had her legs tucked up under her, the easier for Marshall to have that hand on her backside where it sat so effortlessly.

"Nine, I think," he responded to her question. After checking his watch, "Any time now."

"Kind of wish Norah was here…" Mary couldn't help admitting.

Under ordinary circumstances, she'd have never let someone get so close to her when it was so hot out. Well, even if it was thirty below. Who was she kidding? There was nothing ordinary about any of this anymore.

"Ah, she's probably having a good time with Mark…" the hand squeezed then. "And I can't help thinking those miniscule eardrums of hers would not take kindly to the ruckus – the rumpus – created by fireworks."

"Don't say rumpus," Mary requested at once. "Seriously, there are way too many jokes in that one and I don't have time for it tonight."

Meaning she didn't want to tonight.

"Did you know that fireworks originated in China as far back as the 10th century? And that in Ireland, they shoot them off during Halloween, rather than the Fourth of July," Marshall dictated. "Not surprising, as our version of Independence Day would not be the same as theirs."

Mary wanted to make fun of his wealth of knowledge as usual, and although she still found it pretty droning, she had something different on her mind with the mention of pyrotechnics. There was no question what, as it had penetrated pretty intensely since this same time two days before. She was still floored to think how much had happened in just forty-eight hours.

She didn't look at him, instead focusing on his free hand, which was resting on his outstretched leg. He was anchoring her with his arm as she thought; as she fell into the past once again.

"I loved fireworks when I was a kid," she whispered.

"Yeah?" he was patient.

"Just, you know…" she glanced toward the heavens, watched the stars winking at her from a whole universe away. "It's so dark at night. Even the sun can't shine through. But something as tiny as a sparkler or firecracker – one strike, one match and they light up the whole sky."

"Mmm…" he was still waiting, sensing she'd fallen into her own world for a minute.

"They seemed so close – those bursts of red and blue and pink…" her fingers were itching against her knee, like she wanted to get her grabbing hand ready. "I used to beg my dad to make them shoot off more. One more chance and I could see behind the clouds if they lit it bright enough," she'd dreamed big in those days. "See what was back there keeping the sun from hiding."

She didn't mention the part about believing she was behind the flashes; that her father had convinced her of something that foolish. Some weird part of her thought Marshall might already suspect that. If she was bull-headed now, there was no telling how she'd been as a child in terms of her ability to think she moved heaven and earth.

"Aspiration very literally beyond the stars," he finally did more than nod his head at all her babbling. "If anyone could…"

He really was in love – giving Mary so much credit. She chanced another glance into his face, and it was the same as it had been before. Enraptured, enchanted, captivated, mesmerized by every line in hers. It was amazing, the kind of weight that could be lifted after daring to take a risk.

"Seems kind of dumb to me," Mary grumbled with a shrug at his comment.

"Not dumb…" Marshall shook his head. "Lofty. What seven-year-old doesn't dream of something like that?"

"I was four," she whispered, not sure why. "It was before Brandi was born."

Marshall took a sip of water from the Marshal mug he'd brought from the kitchenette, "You remember that far back? My own thoughts from my preschool years are awfully fuzzy, I have to say."

Another shrug, "It's imbedded. Anything with my father. It's like I don't know how to forget."

He quirked an eyebrow, "Do you want to?"

Slowly, but unable to deny it, Mary shook her head. She shook it so many times her eyes strayed to Marshall's hand again, willing herself to stop because surely he got the message. But she just kept doing it, with easy passing shake the whole thing feeling truer than ever. She was scared to not remember. What did she have left anymore?

"They're the only part of him I have," her eyes were fixated on that one spot, even as badly as she wanted to look at Marshall. "How else am I going to block out that image of him…" she could see it now; that was the trouble with the dark. "…That image of him covered in his own blood on the ground; this mass just seeping from his chest, staining my hands…"

"Mary…" Marshall whispered; it was clear he wanted her to stop. "It was a horrible way for him to go. He deserved a lot, but not that. You certainly didn't."

She'd never told anybody how haunted she was by James' death, and although it was going to take a lot longer to muddle through it, part of her felt better that she had purged some of it. Somebody else knew how she felt now, somebody who would not judge her or push her or make her feel worse. She blinked up at him, trying to tell him without another phrase that she was okay – that this had actually, maybe, helped on some bizarre level.

"He was ready to go," Mary found herself saying. "It seemed like it, anyway."

"Well…Mary, God knows I would never wish that on you…" Marshall closed his eyes at the thought. "But being with you when he left this world was probably…"

He topped this off with a shrug, no need to go any further. Mary knew what he meant. And it was better he didn't go on; she didn't have to analyze it to death.

"I was happy with him Marshall…" she turned back to the sky and nudged herself closer into his embrace; their arms pressing together. "Almost as happy as I am right now."

She could tell he was smiling even if he wasn't looking at her, and also that he knew this was her way of shifting away from talking about her father. She'd done her part in opening up and was ready to put it away. Any second now, the blanket above was going to be splashed and spattered with the firework display that had been the start of the whole conversation.

"So this is what happy looks like on you," Marshall observed. "I mean, I am not a dishonest man; part of it is a little terrifying…"

"Come on…" Mary laughed. "Don't make me out to be some lovebird now. That's a great way to get a boot up your ass. Mark my words."

"Dually noted," he agreed.

At that moment, Mary's cell phone sounded off in her pocket. Thinking it might be Mark or Joanna, she maneuvered it out to take a peek at the screen, Marshall interested as well. It was an unfamiliar number, but she recognized the area code. Thinking fast, whirling through all the different ones in her mind, she finally came up with the result and it didn't please her.

"It's D.C…" she sighed dramatically.

"No way," Marshall did the same. "On a holiday? We're three hours away! Three hours from starting the clock again!"

"I'll put 'em on speaker, that way you can lay into that asshat too…" she was thinking of all the paper pushers up there that called just to complain. "Let's hear it douche bags!" she called, angling the phone in her palm. "Who's having the hissy fit on my day off?"

There was the faint sound of static, muttering, and then…

"Happy fourth to you too, inspector!"

Her and Marshall exchanged looks of pure surprise and delight at hearing that familiar voice float through, so near to his old office.

"Stan the Man!" Mary cried, shocking even herself at the buoyancy. "How's the land of the stars and stripes, chief? How many firework shows do they perform on Capitol Hill? An even twenty?"

Stan chuckled genially, "Too busy for the spectacles, I'm afraid. Just thought I'd call and check up on you; make sure Marshall's keeping you in line."

"Ask him yourself," Mary invited.

"He's there?"

"Hey Stan!" Marshall took his turn at calling. "She's been behaving for the most part, but can't be too careful."

Mary scowled, but was boosted by Stan's next words.

"That's our Mary."

She listened to Marshall and Stan chatter back and forth for a few minutes, hitting a few work-related items amongst the pleasantries. Mary's heart swelled in a way she couldn't have expected at hearing Stan's voice, and had to admire the way Marshall side-stepped all things Abigail. That could be explained at a later date when they had more time. Stan would be interested, surely. Mary just wondered if he would've been anticipating his two inspectors hooking up as everybody else seemed to have done.

"Mary, any baby news?" Stan broke the flow to inquire. "How's Brandi doing?"

"A mother of twenty-one hours," she reported, mock-businesslike. "Female – eight pounds, one ounce. Just under two feet tall. Born on the Fourth of July."

"Ah, fabulous…" Stan was forever sweet. "Tell her congratulations. Congratulations to her and…?"

It only just occurred to Mary that Stan wouldn't know the father of the baby whether it had been a secret or not. She tended not to share such facets of her life with him.

"Peter," she swept in casually. "They're working on it," and very well judging by Brandi's excitement after what seemed to have been a very cordial conversation at the hospital.

"And how's the one who's copying my haircut?" Stan blew on.

Mary knew he meant Norah, "Good. She's good."

Stan gave his praise for this as well, bantering back and forth with the two of them like old times. It felt so good; a part of her past Mary could embrace, not having realized just how much she missed Stan until it was like he was back here with them. Although she knew the change suited him, it wasn't the same. She was going to have to get used to it, one way or another.

"…Stan, I can't box Norah up in a fed-ex package…" Mary griped as they were wrapping up, Stan voicing his desire to see her little girl growing up so beautifully. "How are you supposed to 'say hi?' She can't even talk."

"Might actually have a few days off in August," he teased. "Thought I'd visit the homeland."

Marshall tugged Mary's arm at that moment, pointing skyward to a glimmer of light on the horizon. It was feeble, weak at best, but it meant the show was on its way. They wouldn't be able to hear Stan over all the booming anymore.

"Gonna have to cut you off…" Mary voiced, interrupting his plans. "Big business to conduct here with Marshall," she was such a liar, and had trouble keeping the smirk off her face with Stan unable to see her.

"You two…" she could picture him shaking his head. "Don't either of you know when to quit?"

Mary flashed Marshall the fondest glance she could. Stan's statement, despite its having been intended for a different reason, spoke of their nature right now. They definitely did not know when to let go. Nine years as partners, of running from their feelings, staying out of the emotional minefield but jumping headfirst into the actual one. Having each other's backs, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and always being too concerned the other wouldn't be there when you looked over your shoulder to voice what lay underneath. It was a mess, but they operated in the best way possible under all the chaos.

Marshall grinned, knowing what was coursing through Mary's mind.

"Sure don't," he said simply.

With that, Mary hung up, tossing the phone to Marshall's lap so she wouldn't have to fumble it back into her pocket. The minute she did, the first burst of blue ruptured in the big open sky, raining down into the stars, crackling as its embers burned to the ground.

They sat for the longest time after that, watching the colors of their nation's flag glimmer spectacularly above their heads. Dazzling shades of crimson that popped and cracked, deep navies dancing and mingling among pink wheels that spun around its fellows. There were even greens and oranges, underused, but like a bow coming off a package when they appeared – unique and mystical in their splendor.

Marshall's hand was pleasantly warm in its favorite spot now. His fingers began to tickle, and then his lips as they crawled to Mary's temple and kissed. There was a bursting in her stomach at that moment, reminiscent of the show above. She thought of that feeling in other moments – James' face at the door, a witness dead in their home, calls Jinx had been picked up on a DWI. It had gotten so familiar by now she hadn't imagined it could feel differently. But, it did. Instead of ravens and crows scratching in her belly, it was butterflies; their wings soft and fluttering against the edges, gentle on a heart that had been bruised so many times before.

She'd felt it only once before as far as she could remember – before this moment. Norah's face in the hospital room, staring up into her own.

"I don't know that I've ever had a better night than this," Marshall voiced from where he lay compressed against her temple.

"Kind of just figuring out its real," Mary chimed in.

"Don't know what I'd be doing if it weren't," he shifted. "Happy Independence Day to you, inspector."

She was slightly nettled by the teasing but zoned in on his salutation instead. She chuckled with the thought, and then spoke aloud.

"Independence Day," she mused. "Sounds about right."

"Hmm?"

"Well…with Robyn and everything…" Mary shrugged. "It's like Brandi's coming out party where that's concerned," he knew what they'd discussed. "But for me…"

She pulled out of the crook of his arm and gazed up at him with her big green eyes. Marshall would venture a guess Norah's were going to be the exact same shade.

"Kind of the opposite of independence," she joked. "You braniacs call that irony, right?"

"Well, then I vote we don this the first official Dependence Day," Marshall ran his finger up and down her arm. "To mark the anniversary of your ability to…well…" he was trying to make light. "See what a great catch I am."

"Funny," Mary sniped.

But it was funny. She liked the sound of it more than she had ever imagined she would – relying on someone who was going to be there, no matter what. No rules, regulations, stipulations, or red tape. Someone to share her life with, no barrier to break down; it had fallen, and here they were.

Marshall was kissing her again. Her neck, her cheek, her temple, her hair. Mary turned and allowed him to graze her lips. The sound of the fireworks were a distant hum, sounding off in her subconscious, carrying her away to a world where this was okay.

It was okay to be loved. To trust not every single person you met was going to let you down.

"Arms open…" he said hoarsely among the romance. "Far and wide."

And that was where Mary's heart had taken off. To the far, wide, vast, and open universe. Full of opportunities; like Robyn. Like Norah. Like Brandi.

She pulled away and blinked slowly into his clear blue eyes. She loved his clear blue eyes.

"Happy Dependence Day to you too, doofus," she hardly dared believe she'd used his corny phrase.

"This all feels so naughty…" he mused with a well-timed rise of his eyebrow. "You dating your boss."

"Come on, please," Mary eyed him like he was being stupid. "We're not dating."

"Well, we are a couple…" he rephrased, his arm woven in her hair. "In some fashion or another. Defined as two things of the same kind that are together or are considered as a pair. Couples date, no?"

"Oh, so now we're a couple…" Mary's insides still churned with that trademark need to run, no matter how she tried to call them off.

But Marshall placed three fingers on her cheek, turning her face to his. He was as serious as she'd ever seen him.

"A couple. Hate to be the one to break it to you," he winced and Mary grinned; broadly, far and wide. "But we sure as hell are."

XXX

A/N: THE END! Can't believe it's over! I decided to leave a few things open (Brandi and Peter, Marshall being chief) just because I think it's fun for readers to speculate, or at least not know everything. You get the big things wrapped up and imagine so much else.

As of now, I am actually trying to work on a sequel. I never really thought I was a 'sequel' person; when I wrote 'Look to the Sky' and I got so many requests for a sequel I was shocked. And, we all know how much that series expanded! Now, I feel like I'm always trying to continue. I don't know if a part two on this gang will get off the ground, but I hope it does. Any final thoughts on that?

Thank-you so much to everyone who has reviewed – henrylover94, OCP19, JJ2008, JMS529, athena64, Hannanball13, usafcmycloud, Jayne_Leigh, carajiggirl, Grey Fool, paperback-romance, Agent Striker, BrittanyLS, blueberry55, Jdragonfire29, RPenelope, Whyte Board Maker, Sparky She-Demon, tee86elle, tilleygirl, Dempeo4ever81, and a couple others I know have been reading even though you haven't reviewed (which is totally okay!) I had a ton of new reviewers on this story, which I was thrilled about! I got used to the same set with the Sam series, and I was honored to gain some more. I know I don't hold the most popular of opinions in that I was not disappointed in the finale, but I am IPS-loyal-tried-and-true, and I appreciate so many of you taking the time to read my tales even if our thoughts differ on the way the show wrapped things up.

XOXO