A/N: I'm glad you guys enjoyed the Marshall/Norah reunion! I meant to state in my author's notes that I hoped Mary leaning on Mark (literally and figuratively) was not too out-of-character, but it seems many of you enjoyed that as well.

XXX

Mary was definitely in a daze – a spell, a stupor. All she kept seeing was the image of Marshall walking through her front door empty-handed – helpless, hapless, distraught. It was the only picture she held because it was the one that prompted the least amount of disappointment. If she thought anything else, if she let even the tiniest glimmer of hope invade her brain when it might not work out then she wouldn't be able to do this any longer. She would go over the edge, off the high dive, down the hole, into hell.

She lay on her side now, facing the wall with a kind of deer-in-the-headlights look. Mark was just a presence behind her, remaining half-reclined against the headboard. She was down; he was upright. He was also patting her hair over and over. A remote buzzing in the corner of her brain was telling him to stop; it was becoming repetitive and somehow counter-productive, but she didn't do it. She let him stroke; the only method of comfort he possessed when she was mute and no longer in his arms.

Mary did not know how long they sat that way – not facing each other, not saying anything. She refused to look at the clock, because it would only make her nervous. Never mind that she could practically feel and hear the otherwise-silent waiting of those on the other side of the door. Jinx, Joanna, Brandi, even the kids; they all had their own signals they were sending out that seeped through the wood and became ingrained in her skin whether she was there or not.

She never heard the door. At first, she didn't even hear Brandi.

"Mary!"

It was like an echo – like something out of a dream. It couldn't be real. She was pretty sure it wasn't, because Mark didn't move either. Until it came again – once, twice, several more times.

"Mare! Mary! Mark!"

Perhaps it was the old adage, 'third time's a charm.' Perhaps it was the fact that Mark had heard his own name, and this recalled him to the real world. He came to life so fast Mary hardly noticed at first. All she felt was his hand jump from her hair to her back – a shove instead of a stroke.

"Mary…"

He might've thought she was asleep but far from. She was already up, using her hands to get a good lift off the mattress, scarcely realizing how much harder it had become with how much heavier she was.

"Do you need help?" Mark was already bounding off the bed, but Mary did not even spare him a second's response.

Her head was full of nothingness now as she scrambled ungracefully to her feet and met Mark halfway – she didn't see that picture of a defeated Marshall, or think of her child lying dead in a gutter somewhere. It was just pure, intangible adrenaline. She was blinded by taking action, by moving her feet, by feeling her heart beat however sadistically and fanatically in her chest. The sound of her own name was a bullhorn – it was the wake up call. Her sister was sounding the alarm.

Her and Mark, Mary was certain, looked absurdly like entrants in a three-legged race as they both fought through the narrow hallway at the same time. Their footsteps were loud even though Mary was wearing socks. She saw the blurry figures of Jinx and Joanna standing near the couch – the indistinct form of Brandi close to the front door. Eventually, she even made out Peter, Robyn, and Max in the kitchen. Robyn was sitting on the counter; Max was chewing on his fingers.

There was nothing but a rushing in her ears, and so Mary couldn't understand the phrase that exploded out of Jinx's mouth – the phrase that would've told her she could stop worrying.

"She's here!"

It mattered not. The stars aligned at exactly the right moment regardless of what was said or done. Mary and Mark skittered to a halt when they reached the end of the hallway with a little more elbow room. The door made its creak, and the shape of Marshall emerged from the outdoors. There was a bend in his arms because he was holding a fearful, dirty little girl that looked remarkably like her daughter.

The head of the little girl turned. The dark eyes lit up with a bright, vibrant flame dancing in their tiny specks of white. It was that twinkle that sent Mary crashing hard and fast back to her home in Albuquerque, New Mexico; into knowing that little girl was…

"Mommy!" she screamed at the exact same moment Mark bellowed, "Norah!"

Norah.

Marshall slipped her down to the ground, and Mary was astounded by the self-restraint of her family as she bolted through them all like a marathon runner in a ticker-tape parade to get to her parents. Mary dropped to her knees so roughly she suspected they might bruise come tomorrow. That gorgeous face, once fuzzy and indistinct, sprinted closer and closer – hair streaming like a long curtain, brown eyes full of tears, but the most despondent-looking smile stretched its way onto her sullied cheeks.

She was close enough for Mary to grab her, and she did. She yanked, gripped, tugged, heaved, and hauled her into her chest where two hearts pressed together, end-to-end. Where two hearts beat as one. She didn't care how loud the tears were that fell from her daughter's eyes. She didn't care that she was filthy and had no explanation for where she'd been all day. She especially did not care that Mark was doing all the talking, because Mary got to do all the holding while he bent over the two entwined together and kissed her head about fifty times.

She cared about nothing at all except that her child was here – here with her mother, from where she'd come and where she'd stay. Despite the unkempt appearance, Mary couldn't help thinking Norah had never looked, tasted, or shone so beautifully. She relished those little girls' waves in her otherwise stick-straight hair. She found joy in the fact that her T-shirt appeared to be on backwards. She could kiss the soil adorning her favorite well-worn pair of red sneakers. She was silky skin, vivid eyes, scraped elbows, dirty fingernails, and more. She was her Norah.

"Are you okay?" Mark was whispering between each peck. "Are you okay?"

She was not going to answer. He figured this out soon enough and raised his head a fraction of an inch to ask Marshall, who had ventured a little further inside.

"Is she okay?"

With a very large sigh, he nodded.

Mary wasn't sure she even blinked in the choking, never-ending embrace that followed with her child. She didn't even cry, although how that was possible she wasn't sure. She just stooped there, wide-eyed with her lids darting from Marshall to the onlookers and back again. She was breathing fast; that much she was aware of. It was making the back of Norah's neck very warm, but Mary could only inhale, exhale, and run her fingers up and down her child's spine. Initially, it was as much for her sake as her daughter's, but when Norah would not let up on the sobs, she knew the gears had to switch.

"Bug, its okay…" her voice was awfully hoarse, and she caressed a little harder – a little faster. "It's okay. I'm here, dad's here; Marshall…everybody's here. We're just happy you're home."

"You're…mad…'cause I left…" Norah said throatily, having to pause between each word.

"I don't care about that right now," Mary promised, and now Mark knelt beside them as well to offer his input. "I don't care about anything except that you're here. Come and look at me…"

Squeezing gently as a means to get her moving, Mary reluctantly pulled herself away from Norah and took her by her forearms. She was hanging her head, refusing to meet her mother's glance; Mark nudged himself over so they could both get a look.

"Marshall said you're all right…" Mary reminded her, hoping this would be of some help to both of them. "You are all right? You're not hurt?"

After a sniffle and a shudder that made those forearms shake, "No. I didn't get hurt but I was scared…" she emphasized, finally looking up. "I was only waiting so I could talk to Marshall, but it got really-really dark and then I didn't know what to do! I didn't think I could get back in the dark; I was afraid to get lost!"

"Well, Marshall found you and now you're here with us…" Mark brushed over her motives quite swiftly. "Try to chill out a little. You'll just feel worse."

"Mom, get me some Kleenex…" Mary turned to speak over her shoulder, stunned at how easily she was able to transition so fast into US Marshal mode once more, watching Jinx dither off to the bathroom to find something suitable.

Coming down off the wave meant some very noisy hiccups, but Mary continued to crouch and smooth her tousled honey-golden strands of hair. Mark even took her tiny hand and held it in his until Jinx returned with a full box of tissues; likely a new one she had found under the sink.

"Here sweetheart…"

Mary took it and busted the plastic, tossing the remains to the floor, and pulled free about six tissues, only two of which she folded in half. The rest, she deposited in Mark's lap.

"Wipe your eyes, love; let me help you…"

Never before had Mary felt so maternal, but streaking the tears made the dirt spread across Norah's already stained cheeks. She was in for a bath later, but now it was important to present the illusion of more control. And her daughter was clearly basking in being taken care of; her unrivaled independence had flung her much too far today. She'd seen the other side, and she hadn't liked it.

When the moments had passed and the drama had faded even slightly, Norah blinked politely – first at her mother, then Mark, and then Marshall. Finally, she took in Jinx, Joanna, and Brandi, even Peter and her cousins who were whispering furtively in the kitchen.

Swallowing, she turned back to Mary, "Why is everyone here?" she whispered shyly.

Since she'd asked, Mary was going to answer truthfully but she was going to be quick and clean. Norah was clearly a wreck and now was not the time, but the inquiry prompted a slight reprimand – very slight. With a brief glance at Mark to confer, he nodded and she began to speak.

"Bug, you cannot leave the house by yourself…" Mary emphasized as calmly, but as seriously as she could. "You know that; we've talked about that lots of times. It isn't safe."

"Norah, there are people out there that are not nice," Mark chimed in, watering down the likes of criminals and pedophiles. "People that might hurt you, and I know that sounds scary, but you need to be careful…"

"I was careful," Norah insisted, but it did not conceal her shame; she knew she'd done wrong. "I knew the way to the horses and I thought Marshall would come a lot faster…"

"Love, you should have talked to me about Marshall," Mary insisted. "And we could've called Marshall and figured it out. I did not do a good job of telling you what was going on; I understand you were confused, that's my fault…"

"But, just because mom makes a mistake or I make a mistake or anybody else…" Mark cut in, sticking up for Mary briefly. "It is not up to you to fix it. You're six Norah; you don't know everything yet. Leave the big things to us."

Norah shuffled her feet and sniffled another time, taking in the graveness on her parent's faces – her mother's pale cheeks, her father's swimmy eyes, the fact that the house was full of so many people. She'd understood some of it, like being in trouble for running away, but not the fear. She hadn't understood that.

"Mommy, were you scared?" she whispered frightfully. "Did I scare you because I didn't tell you where I went?"

Mary swallowed, determined to be adult; suddenly feeling the stares of all the others whom her daughter had clued in to long before.

"I was pretty scared, Bug," she patted her shoulder and Mark laid a hand on his ex's back. "But even if you could tell me where you went, you don't go," she hadn't wanted to do this right now, but the onslaught of questions meant it came without warning. "You're little; you stay with me or you stay with daddy or Marshall or Brandi or anybody else all the time."

"We're gonna talk more tomorrow," Mark slid away neatly, clearly sensing Mary had-had her fill of the punishments. "Right now, you say hello to everyone 'cause they're gonna be leaving, get something to eat, and then you're taking a bath, all right?"

"You've gotta be starving," Mary hung on to one phrase in there, suddenly realizing she felt the same way; her stomach had an intense growl now rather than an intense ache.

"Go say hi to moms; they missed you too…" Mark pointed to Jinx and Joanna, using their corny plural name he had adopted for when they were in the same room, even though Jinx was 'Jinx' and Joanna was 'Grandma.'

Norah obeyed, coming to a lot better now. Mary and Mark stood up; Mary even allowed herself a helping hand, as getting off the floor was not as easy as it used to be. She heard the distant spoiling and crooning coming from Jinx and Joanna behind her; Joanna even picked Norah up and they both smooched her cheeks, leaving lipstick prints to mingle among the dirt.

But for Mary, there was only one destination right now. Her daughter was content, and so her feet led her to the man standing with his hands in his pockets, slouched at the outer counter just watching it all unfold. He behaved as an outsider even though he was the furthest thing from; unobtrusive, inconspicuous, always keeping a low profile.

And Mary, there in front of all to see whether they were paying attention or not, caught Marshall's eye just seconds before she captured his lips and planted one – fulfilling, intoxicating, hands in his hair, down his back; his roving and roaming the same directions. They were like probes on a map; all their fingers following the exact same intricate patterns. Eventually, his hands pulled in and she was in his arms as well as on his mouth.

When she got it together enough to drift away and stare up into his big blue eyes, he looked as even as ever.

"You do know that I would be nothing without you right now."

Marshall fed her a sheepish smile, "That's a big thank-you. Isn't it?"

"The biggest one you will ever get," Mary affirmed. "I owe you my life, Marshall."

"You owe me nothing," he insisted, trailing a finger along her chest. "I strung two words, two days together; and here we are. You could've done the same if it hadn't been your child out there on the lam and you hadn't been here – worrying about keeping the sequel intact," he even patted a hand on her belly. "I did nothing you wouldn't have done for me."

Just as Mary was about to tell him he would have to let her know as soon as she could return the favor, another body floated into their midst – one that had not been gone long. Mark was standing there when both she and Marshall turned; he wore an embarrassed smile about the interruption.

"Sorry, you two…" he said off the bat. "Can I intervene on the celebration here for a minute?"

Mary knew some version of what she'd just expressed was about to come out and agreed, "Sure…" slipping out of Marshall's arms, however reluctantly.

With another glance, she saw that Brandi had joined 'moms' and was fingering Norah's hair, pawing her nails through all the knots in the expert way she did without pulling; Norah didn't even notice. The little girl was telling some sort of story, because she could see Joanna and Jinx responding with, 'really?' and 'oh, my goodness!' their eyes wide, and an excellent audience. Brandi simply smiled until she caught Mary watching them and directed her grin a more definite location. To Mary's surprise, she even blew a kiss, waggling her fingers after the fact – a silent signal of love.

"Marshall, I can't thank you enough for what you did here…" Mark was saying when Mary tuned back in. "Honestly, I don't know how…"

The mentioned man had already gotten the speech, "I was doing my duty – as both a US Marshal and a future father," he dictated modestly. "And you, my friend, are an impeccable father. It was the least I could do for you and Mary for how much you share a kid like Norah with me."

You could not out 'humble' Marshall, Mary thought. He so rarely gave himself any credit; always grateful, always accepting, always tolerant. She really did not express her thanks enough to him for dealing with her whirling dervish family.

"Well…if there's anything I can do…" Mark persisted a little slowly this time, obviously unable to work his way out of such a generous phrase. "I hope you won't hesitate to let me know. I'm happy to stay with the little one when she comes if you guys need a night off or something."

"Think this is an attitude I could get used to," Mary quipped so Marshall wouldn't have to answer. "Where you been hiding the charitable acts all this time?" she joked, amazed at how she was able to do so.

Mark gave a shaky laugh and put his hand on her shoulder, programmed today to provide comfort, "I'll help you boot out the gang and get Norah some food, get her bath started, but then I'll be out of your hair…"

"You can stay as long as you want," Mary whispered as benevolently as she knew how; she couldn't forget his feeling that he was second-best to Marshall. Although he might be tremendously grateful, such a feeling wasn't going away just yet. "Honest. But, I will take you up on kicking out the crew. It's been a long day."

"All right…" Mark agreed with a real smile. "Well, I promise not to get in the way," he offered anyway.

Mary nodded, mostly to quiet him, but the longer they stood she knew it was probably prudent to return some of the affection he had been handing out all day. They couldn't stare forever; not with her eyes threatening to fill with tears really for no reason at all this time – a release of stress, if nothing else.

Without a word, she put an arm around him but allowed Marshall to hang onto one of her hands, keeping both men at spitting distance in the exact same moment. She exhaled slowly – not to mention loudly – at having Mark close for a moment. He, above anyone, would know of the nightmare she'd been given. In flesh and blood, no one was Norah's parent but the two of them. Not without a rocky start, they'd battled through it together and come out the other side.

"We made it, kid…" was the wisdom he offered before he let her go. From across, he tweaked her cheek, "You were a champ."

Mary's laugh was as trembling as his had been, "Not exactly. I can still spot a liar."

"You mean I don't get points for charm?" he inquired with a face of mock-offense.

"Don't be a douche bag."

For the first time all day, their grins matched in mutual happiness. They were back from whence they'd come – joking, teasing, batting back hard times, but possessing more fondness than they used to.

Mark's departing word was a simple nod before he ambled into the kitchen to find some food. Mary was about to turn back to Marshall seeing that Norah was still busy with the women, but when Peter got to work helping Mark, someone else made an escape. It came in the form of tugging just below Marshall's belt loop.

Looking down, both laid eyes on Robyn – still in her skirt and tank-top, pigtails a little askew and falling out now. She'd abandoned Max on the counter and was gazing up at both of them, clearly unable to contain herself in all the excitement.

"Well!" Marshall put on his best performance, sticking both hands on his hips. "Hello there, princess! I hardly recognized you – you've been so quiet!" he bent, hands under her arms, and picked her up.

"Was I good?" Robyn asked at once, eyes darting from Mary to Marshall and back again. "I was trying so-so-so hard to be good; because mommy said you were both super-super sad you couldn't find Norah…"

"You were outstanding," Marshall praised.

"You really were, babe…" Mary chimed in, squeezing one of her bare feet that were dangling out of Marshall's grasp. Robyn had behaved very far from her usual self today; boxed up all of her energy due to whatever stipulations Brandi had laid to get her to keep quiet. It was to be admired.

"How sad were you?" the five-year-old wanted to know.

Mary didn't especially want to put a label on it, but Marshall was quick, "Even sadder than Cinderella when her step-mother locked her in her bedroom," he poked a finger in her chest.

Robyn's eyebrows flew up, "Sadder than that?"

"Can you imagine?" Marshall shook his head.

"You know what I figured out though?" Robyn switched, finished with that.

"What did you figure out?" Marshall repeated.

"You're like Robin Hood or Peter Pan or Prince Charming or Eric from Mermaid now!" she declared excitedly.

Marshall laughed and Mary did too, just picturing Marshall in a pair of green tights and a little hat with a feather.

"And why is that?" patient as ever.

"Because you're a hero! You found Norah!" Mary's little niece proclaimed boldly. "That's what heroes do right? I think that might be better than being born on the Fourth of July!"

Mary cocked her head and leaned over to kiss Robyn's cheek, unexpectedly touched by her quirky brand of congratulations. To Robyn, there was nothing greater or more thrilling, nothing was a bigger accomplishment than landing on planet earth on a holiday where fireworks went off and people waved American flags. From her, this was paramount and looking at her, Mary could hardly believe that face was the same one that she'd watched come into the world after so many obstacles to hurdle over.

They were all trying tonight. It had never felt so good. And Marshall smiled, obviously thinking the same thing she was.

"I don't think I've ever gotten a better compliment than that," he told her. "But, I've got a secret for you girly…" he whispered under his breath. "Gotta keep it between us, okay?"

"You have a secret?" Robyn squealed so loudly there was not much chance of it being kept.

"Shh…!" Marshall played along. "I'll only tell if you keep it to yourself."

Robyn nodded fervently, a very giggly hand over her mouth in anticipation. Mary had no idea where this was going and waited it out while Marshall glanced around, so fun-loving and carefree with the little girls. Brandi had been right about that.

"Do you know how I figured out Norah went to the stables?" he asked very softly, leaning in so Robyn had to strain to listen.

"How?" her voice was as low as his.

Marshall held out both his hands so she was balanced only on his hips, but he was strong enough to keep her there. Palms out, he took both strands of hair in his fingers, bringing them to the forefront, causing Robyn's eyes to skirt in all directions trying to unlock the mystery.

Before she could ask, "I saw your ponytails!"

You couldn't put a price on the look on Robyn's face. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes lit up like the brightest, most brilliant stars above.

"I helped you find Norah!"

"Well, somebody had to!" he claimed. "But remember, we zip our lips…" he mocked locking up his own mouth, a gesture that often worked with Robyn. "Some things are too dramatic to put in a show, my queen…" this was the important part. "You keep them in your heart," he patted her chest.

Robyn nodded solemnly, understanding that she was not to repeat her aide in the future; as the memories would be too difficult for others to live through again.

And there was warmth floating in Mary's chest at the thought that they had two much happier girls under their roof tonight, a relieved father, a gallant conqueror whom she adored, and more love than any of them really knew what to do with. She could not, ever, in a million years, ask for more than that.

XXX

A/N: We are sailing our way toward the end now! You guys have been great!