A/N: Do not own In Plain Sight.
The day stretched on to a place it was difficult to discern where the old one stopped and the new one began. Mary slept on and off at the other's request. Brandi, Peter, and Jinx were still the only ones she'd seen; the others had to return to work even though it was the middle of the night.
But the surprises never ended. She didn't know which shocked her more – her cell ringing at midnight and hearing Eleanor's voice on the other end. Or Mark showing up at half past three with hurried apologies about being late, not to mention wreaking of cigar smoke and beer.
"I really wasn't doing anything," he promised. "But when Brandi called I was at a club doing an air conditioning install and…well, you know how cigar smoke sticks to you…"
Mary had waved away the excuses. He'd accepted her decision to give the baby to Brandi and Peter with such grace; she decided he could do whatever he wanted for the next lifetime.
"I just want to know him, Mary," he said. "And I want him to know me. If I ever made you think that I'd just walk away…"
"We've both got some manning up to do here, Mark," she admitted. "But it's like I told Brandi. Two parents who not only love him but each other – sap and sentiment be damned, I want him to have the kind of childhood I never did. He's still on his first chance; I'm on my second."
"How do you figure?" he laughed, undoubtedly ready to list all of Mary's screw-ups front-to-back.
"Cut me some slack; I'm on about six different drugs," she shrugged, but found herself laughing too.
With assurances of what promised to be one wacky first year, Mark held Stanley in his arms, saying he was as good looking as Mary and was sure to have Brandi's charm. Then he was off to make hotel arrangements to stay in town at least until Mary was released from the hospital.
It wasn't until the sun was coming up around six A.M. that the two faces Mary most longed to see returned, looking exhausted but deliriously happy.
Stanley was snoozing in the rolling bassinet from the nursery; Mary sat up and greeted them both, for a moment forgetting in her eagerness that her stitches would pull. She managed to hide it and fed them the most dazzling smile she could muster.
"Stan the man!" she exclaimed. "At the crack of dawn…you're looking pretty good in this light, old timer."
He and Marshall both chuckled, Marshall heading straight for the bassinet to swoon over the little one.
"Haven't you guys gone home yet?" Mary asked. "How long have you been up?"
"Duty calls," Marshall replied, lifting Stanley out of his bed and adjusting the blankets around him.
It couldn't have been plainer that he was thrilled the baby was still in their lives; he would get to play the doting uncle after all. He brushed his round cheeks with a tender finger, shifted the tiny hat upon his head.
"We didn't want to put head to pillow until we saw you right after a harrowing delivery. It makes for good blackmail material," Marshall continued.
Mary scoffed, not even wanting to imagine how she must look as Marshall took a seat next to the bed.
"Don't listen to him, Mary," Stan corrected the other man. "You're holding up like a hero."
"He thinks I'm a hero," Mary gushed, smirking arrogantly at Marshall. He made an indistinct noise in his throat, eyes still on the baby.
"Never mind that we have been, as you said, 'pushing them out since time began…'" he said in an undertone.
"More than a hero…" Stan murmured, ignoring Marshall.
Mary knew what was coming. He stepped over to the bed and ran his hand over her hair. Smiling softly down at her, his eyes sparkled with a strange light Mary had never really noticed before. But there was something comforting and familiar about it just the same; like a glow she'd been looking for all this time if only she'd cared to search far enough.
"Brandi told me what you named him," Stan said deeply, eyes still locked with hers.
Mary nodded, a quiet smile playing about her lips.
"I'm honored, sweetheart."
Mary choked up without warning as Stan kissed her head, giving her hair a few more gentle pats. In the back of her mind, she knew what had caused the wave of unexpected emotion. Sweetheart…
"I love it," Marshall chuckled, not even noticing the exchange. "Stanley Shannon. He's even got the bald patch to match."
Mary laughed too, her throat cottony and tight. Stan seemed to sense she was unpredictably moved and, knowing her as he did, helped her hide it by rubbing her back tenderly while she concealed the tears from Marshall.
"Think you're up to the task, grandpa?" she asked, half-joking, half-serious, sniffling quickly. "I mean…God knows James isn't up to the job."
An uncomfortable silence fell, Stan's hand sliding off her back. Marshall looked up, glancing to his boss for guidance. It was the first time Mary had mentioned her father since their visit. It was impossible that-that had been only twenty-four hours ago. It seemed like a lifetime.
"Mary, I don't…I don't want to take the place…" Stan fumbled.
"Don't read too much into it," Mary said quietly. "You're in – he's out. I've got the pigmy with the namesake to prove it."
All three of them laughed then, the awkward spell broken; tension evaporated and floating, as though on wind, right out the window.
"Hey, speaking of," Marshall spoke up. "How come Stan here gets all the glory? Personally, I think Marshall Shannon has a soft, but sophisticated quality to it."
"Oh, spare me," Mary pretended to gag. "What if he turns out like me?"
"That'd be a sad day for everyone…" Stan teased.
"I mean!" Mary interjected as Marshall chortled. "We'd have another Marshal Marshall on our hands. And with Socrates here in the picture, I can't be too sure that won't happen. Best to play it safe."
Marshall was looking amused, and also defeated.
"All right, all right; Stanley it is then," he said, trying it on for size. "Does he have a middle name?"
"Joseph," Mary reported. "Brandi picked that one."
"Aw…" Marshall said with his usual smirk. "Mary and Joseph."
"Okay Poindexter; just reign in the religious references. I've got enough on my mind."
Stan smiled at their childish byplay, and then turned back to Mary.
"All right inspector…unfortunately, I have to get home and change before I head back to the office," he said.
"Understood," Mary nodded.
Stan stuck out his hand to shake. Mary grinned and grasped his fingers firmly in hers, but then waggled her own, indicating for him to lean in. Pretending the formalities were still in place at this point just seemed like a waste. Stan pitched forward and Mary planted a kiss on his head without another word.
"See you Monday?" he asked on his way to the door, turning right back into her easygoing but no-nonsense boss.
"Eight o'clock."
"Copy that," with a wink and a wave over his shoulder, he was gone.
In Stan's absence, Mary and Marshall sat in a more comfortable silence – two best friends, compadres, partners, arm-in-arm, hand-in-hand for life. Mary was watching him with her son, the little boy dressed in pale blue, his big eyes on the gentle hands that held him. Marshall was a natural. So fitting.
"How are your stitches?" he asked, ever the expert. "C-section recovery can be kind of intense."
"No picnic," Mary answered truthfully. "But I've had worse."
Relieved to hear, Marshall turned his attention back to the baby.
"He's beautiful, Mare," he beamed down at him, obviously completely sucked in to the wonder of a new being landed on the earth, multiplied by the fact that he'd come from the person he cared about most.
"You mentioned that," Mary chuckled, referring to his reiteration about the look of her child. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to seriously shelter him from all the useless information you are sure to throw his way as the years go by. I can't have him teasing me in Italian before the age of ten."
Marshall laughed, knowing she didn't mean it, but also knowing she did. It was always hard to tell with Mary.
"Can I just tell you…?" he began.
"Don't know why you ask; you're gonna do it anyway."
"This choice is a good one. I mean, I have no doubt whatsoever you could brave the journey of motherhood but…I gotta admit…I would've missed my partner."
"Who says I would've given up the job?" Mary exploded, ready to argue at once.
"No one; I just meant…"
"Oh, I know what you meant," she nodded knowingly. "You meant I'd go all soft with a rugrat running around; well I've got news for you buddy…"
"The case is moot," Marshall held up a hand, the other around the baby. "He stays, you stay…Brandi and Peter are gonna keep him safe and give him a home while you're out…defending the free world with your…faithful sidekick."
If he'd had a hat he would've tipped it. As it was, he flicked the patch of his hair that stuck up in front, causing Mary to grin against her will. He allowed Stanley to grasp his finger lightly, a merry smile pasted on as though nothing could wipe it away. It was this that spurred Mary to speak.
"Hey Marshall…I've got to ask you something," she said suddenly.
"Oh yeah?"
"I don't really want to but…something tells me you'll bring it up at a later date and I'd just as soon get the embarrassing conversation out of the way now," she prattled on.
"Oh…kay…" Marshall said slowly, not sure where this was going, managing to tear his gaze away from the baby for a moment.
Mary swallowed hard, prepared to accept whatever answer he gave. She wasn't used to spilling her guts like this. Stan's birthday was going to go down in history in more ways than one.
"When I went into labor and I was passing out…"
"Yeah?"
"Did you…"
He had a feeling he knew what she was talking about.
"This was before the ambulance got there…"
She was stalling.
"But…did you say that…you loved me?"
It was Marshall's turn to swallow hard. He shifted his focus back to little Stanley in his arms; his face was so perfect and unspoiled, so soft and handsome. Apparently, he let it take him too far.
"Marshall, did you?" Mary prompted impatiently.
He couldn't lie.
"Well…Mary…I do love you. You know that."
"But…Marshall…"
She couldn't pretend there wasn't something vastly different about the way it had come out only twelve hours before. She knew Marshall couldn't either. Not forever.
"What about you?" Marshall decided to turn the question around on her.
"What about me?"
"Well Mary…you're my best friend, and…"
"And what?"
He simply met her gaze, long and hard. He didn't need to say anything more.
After a moment, Mary spoke, choosing her words carefully.
"What about Abigail?" she whispered.
"I think she knows," Marshall replied simply.
Mary nodded. What next? All the uncertainty was supposed to be over. Done. But now…
"You're the best friend I've ever had, Marshall," she said softly, looking steadily into his face.
Staring down the barrel of the gun.
"Same goes," Marshall agreed.
Even for Mary, who didn't believe in signs, could sense there was something going on. Some cosmic understanding, a universal alignment that told her whatever was bound to happen was supposed to, one way or the other.
"I can't change for you Marshall…" Mary muttered. "I'm not some…Susie Sunshine that's gonna become a housewife just because she finally found love. I just gave my baby to my kid sister. That's some screwed up shit."
Marshall leaned in, all seriousness, placing a hand in her lap. She was close to crying.
"I would never want that," he shook his head. "Call me crazy, but I kind of like things the way they are. The barbs, the back-and-forth…nobody makes my blood pound the way you do," he grinned, like it was turning him on.
"And that gets you all hot and bothered – me being a total pain in the ass," Mary tried to confirm, skeptical as she'd ever been.
Marshall laughed, still inches from her face, hand still in her lap.
"Well…I can't pretend a solid stab at some kind of…relationship…"
"Don't say relationship," Mary pointed a threatening finger.
"Union. Joining of souls and minds. Better?" Marshall supplied.
"No, not really," Mary said grouchily.
"I can't pretend a solid stab at some kind of relationship," he repeated. "Wouldn't come with some perks not often explored in our working office-romance."
He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Mary's instinct was to pounce all over that description but, more than anything, she was realizing about Marshall something she should've realized a long time ago. He understood everything about her, warts and all, and he was still here. She didn't even need one hand to count the number of people who had that kind of loyalty.
"None of the old rules apply, Mary," he was saying.
Stanley sighed contentedly from his spot in Marshall's arms. His tiny little lids were closing as he chewed slowly on his finger, his cheeks rosy red, cherub-like and chubby. Marshall waggled his fingers in his face, adoration alight in his eyes.
Without thinking, Mary leaned forward, her lips brushing his, soft and slow. It was all warmth and comfort. And, beneath it a bliss Mary had only first felt again hours ago when her son was placed in her arms. When they parted, Marshall was grinning. Not his usual, playful smirk but an honest-to-goodness smile – one full of happiness and anticipation.
"I love you, Mary," he admitted, completely plainspoken and direct, no waver or hesitation.
But, that was Marshal Marshall Mann.
"You doofus…"
Mary giggled – actually giggled. A ribbon tied around her heart, cinching two shattered pieces together. The effect was instantaneous, pure and unrivaled joy.
"A guy with brains like yours, and you don't know I love you too."
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the way I wrapped this up. It just felt like too much of a cliché to have Mary "live happily ever after" in terms of getting together with Marshall AND keeping the baby. Between the two of them, they're going to be in the line of fire day in and out and I don't think either one is prepared to give it up. But this way, they get to be in Stanley's life and know him while Brandi and Peter give him the home and the stability he needs. Stay tuned for my fluff of an ending!