A/N: I am always excited when I surpass 100 reviews and you all did that a long time ago. I will be thrilled if you continue the streak. :)

XXX

It was five o'clock before the guests dwindled down to Stan, Lia, Joanna, and Mark. There were also a few of Peter's closest car salesmen that had known him for upwards of twenty years. The sun, a great fiery orange ball above the Sandia Mountains, was starting to dip below the peaks, casting a strange purple effect on the last of the snow. Those leaving the stoop had lengthy, warbling shadows in the half-light; mirroring oddly with their images progressing down the walk.

Mary didn't know if she even had the vigor to heat up one of the many dishes packed into the refrigerator, and was immensely grateful when Stan offered her a fistful of cash to order pizza. They could have it delivered, the kids wouldn't whine about eating it; he was a Godsend.

Leaving the stragglers in the living room, Mary slumped down the hall to ask the children what they preferred, a small portion of her wanting to have it out with them for skipping the entire wake. She knocked without waiting for authority and stuck her head in.

Robyn and Alice were sitting cross-legged in the upper bunk, playing some sort of board game that Mary couldn't see from the ground. Norah was sprawled in her bed, reading with the book straight up over her eyes.

"Norah, what's two and three together?" Alice asked from above.

"Five."

"Move five…" Robyn instructed before Mary decided to make her presence known.

"Hey troops…" she called, and three heads turned her direction. "Marshall's ordering pizza for dinner. What do you guys want?"

Alice shouted, "Cheese!" at the exact same moment Robyn bellowed, "Pepperoni!"

"Pepperoni's gross…" Norah piped up, swinging her legs to try and kick the underside of the mattress, but she was too short and her feet didn't reach. "I don't want any."

"I'll get half-and-half," Mary sighed. "I'll eat the leftover pepperoni with Robyn."

Norah rolled over onto her belly so she was facing the door, her eyes pointed upward to address her mother. Mary noticed she was still in her funeral attire. So were Robyn and Alice, which must've been a trick up in the bed, because they were both wearing dresses. Alice had on pleats and Mary knew it would probably have to be dry-cleaned.

"Is everybody gone?" her oldest asked. "I could barely walk when I was out there earlier. I was afraid I was going to trip."

"Makes two of us," Mary muttered. "Stan and Lia are still here – and dad and Grandma," she was thankful, in that moment, that Jinx had never been 'Grandma' thus inspiring no awkward feelings.

"Those people were here forever!" Alice shrieked from the ceiling, seemingly over her little episode from the church. Robyn, Mary noticed, still seemed slightly subdued, but under control. "Like, a million-billion-trillion years…"

"Sure felt that way to some of us," Mary agreed. "I'll call you three when the pizza shows up, but I think it's safe to come out now…" she slipped in tiredly. "No danger of being trampled."

She didn't stick around for them to approve the circumstances, and was almost out the door when she noticed the red scarf hanging over the end of Norah's bunk. It wasn't hers, as she didn't wear anything likely to keep her warm, and even if she did it would've been in the hall closet. It was too big to be Alice's and Robyn would've chosen pink.

Moronically, Mary actually did a head count as the realization hit her. A trio was definitely not the same as a quad.

"Hey, you three…?" she had to speak a little louder, for they had gotten back to their games and were chatting animatedly again. "Where's Max?"

In unison, and not even looking up, "I don't know."

It made Mary mad. Not raging, not livid, but really and truly mad. They were good girls and she loved them dearly, and it wasn't even entirely their fault they'd fallen into this pattern. But, the fact that they had left Max somewhere in the cold on the day of Jinx's funeral spiked her ire more than she could've foreseen – especially once Robyn decided to elaborate.

"He said he didn't want stay in here so he went somewhere else…" she concentrated on moving her piece on the board. "I don't know where."

Mary exhaled noisily and smacked a hand against her thigh in her frustration, "…Guys…!" was all she could get out without becoming a menace, but the audible smack combined with her aggravation definitely made them look up.

Robyn, near the top, thought it had something to do with her, "What?"

"Did any of you ask him if he wanted to hang out?" she tossed to the group at large, but Robyn, as the bossy older sister, didn't see the point.

"It wouldn't matter if we had," she insisted. "He never says anything anyway."

"Maybe he would if you ever thought to ask him!"

The reprimand wasn't directed solely for Robyn and, fortunately, she didn't seem to take it as such. Norah elbowed up once more, placing her book face down on the bed, trying to legitimately defend a crime they hadn't even known they'd committed.

"Mom, he said he didn't want to," she persevered. "Honest. What were we supposed to do after that?"

"Listen to me…" she lowered her voice, acting on sorrow and fatigue at the moment, but it needed to be said regardless. "All three of you…"

Norah and Robyn, having been privy to such a tone for longer, halted their activities and paid attention. Alice was still dithering around with her player and was not even on the same planet, causing Mary to kick it up a notch.

"Alice!"

Robyn even smacked her arm so she'd look up, which earned her a wounded look, "Ouch!" but when she saw her cousin jerk her head toward the door, she shut up.

Mary chose her words carefully. She was not some savior of the underdog, but six years of this was enough. She couldn't say for sure why it was hitting her this way today, but it didn't change the facts. Now that she had the girls' focus, she was going to use it.

"I don't want you leaving him out," she ordered in what was very close to her US Marshal voice. "He has feelings. No matter what he says, he doesn't want to be alone."

Who does? Mary couldn't resist considering. It was Norah who brought the differing viewpoint.

"Mom, he might sometimes…" she rationalized. "I mean, I do…"

"This isn't a 'sometimes' thing," Mary reminded them. "Max gets left behind a lot and it needs to stop."

"We didn't do it on purpose, Mary," Robyn couldn't help herself from the defense. "Really."

"I like Max," Alice contributed, like the hammy kiss-up she could sometimes be if she thought she was in trouble.

In the here and now, Mary thought they'd gotten a good taste of what she was trying to get across. She was too drained and too moody to really lay into them. With any luck, they'd remember it for next time. Conceding defeat and coming down off the wave almost as quickly as she'd got on it, she shook her head.

"I'll call you for the pizza…"

And she turned to leave, not knowing what she'd been thinking, when Norah called out.

"Mom…"

Slowly, she rotated to face her ten-year-old, and she saw the guilt swimming in her bottomless, dark eyes. Mary could tell she hadn't meant for this to happen – hadn't meant to set her mother off. She wanted to say something to make up for it, but Mary just extended a hand and waved her away.

"I'll call you for the pizza."

She knew she hadn't lifted Norah's spirits any higher, but nobody should've been expecting much out of her anymore. Defending one kid took enough of her stamina, and it was with this thought that she strode back through the living room, hoping she didn't look overly prominent. Marshall was still jabbering with Stan and Lia; Mark and Joanna occupied with Brandi and Peter. Although Marshall gave her the side-eye once, he made no further comment and left her alone.

Mary opened the door to the laundry room – no Max. She gave the kitchen a clean sweep, and still no Max. He wouldn't go in the master bedroom, and she highly doubted he would choose the basement. She was on the verge of checking, however, when her harried glance caught the back window.

They had a run-down swing set that had been assembled when Norah was about two; it housed two swings and a platform that led to monkey bars. But, the wood was rotting and nobody, not even Alice, played on it. The one at Brandi's and Peter's place was far superior.

But there, sitting cross-legged on the landing above the swings, playing with his shoelaces, was Max. Mary just stood at the blinds and watched him for a minute. How many people had to have walked by this window and not noticed him? If they had, why hadn't they said anything? Being the opposite sex from the majority shouldn't automatically make you an outsider. Mary had never let it stop her.

Slowly, she ventured to the back door and pushed it open, forgetting in her rush to be with her nephew that it was the middle of February and freezing. The breeze bit at her barely-concealed legs, and the thin sweater did nothing to heat her flesh. Still though, she did not go back inside.

Mary wasn't going to call him to her. Instead, she pulled up a chair from their abandoned patio – one that wasn't soaking from melted snow – and sat down. Max heard the metal scrape against the timber and looked up from his post. He, like the girls, was still in his Sunday best. Mary pretended not to notice him; pretended she was simply there to gaze at the soon-to-be-night-sky and its shimmering stars.

Nonetheless, it took Max less than five seconds. He uncurled from his position and climbed down the ladder – no rush, no hurry, but he was on his way. Mary could hear his dress shoes shuffling and squelching through the damp grass. She wondered vaguely if the seat on his slacks was wet.

When he reached the deck, Mary did what was expected of her without making him ask. She pulled him onto her lap with a groan, though he weighed almost nothing; he was spindly and weedy, always had been, except for those cherub cheeks. He wiggled himself into place, resting his back on her chest so his legs dangled toward the ground, his head just to the right of her chin. Mary sighed.

Together, they watched the horizon line, painting watercolors of pink and orange at its crest. The clouds caught each other like smoke, swirling and creating wisps of grey in the otherwise vibrant skyscape. It would be dark soon.

"I liked that song they sang today," Max suddenly donated out of nowhere.

He'd initiated. Mary took it.

"Mmm hmm – Danny Boy?" she hummed, feeling herself revert to rocking him back and forth on her knee.

"The part about the valley and the snow," he continued. "It sounds really nice."

Mary hadn't thought about it, but she supposed he was right, "Yeah, I guess it does."

"Jinx must've liked that song too, huh?" he gambled casually.

Mary nodded this time, brushing his cheek as she did it because they were pressed so close together. He was a nice credence on her lap, seeping her with warmth that certainly wasn't coming from anything in the surrounding atmosphere. It was too cold; they both should've been wearing coats.

"Yep…" she replied, turning to kiss his temple briefly. "She did."

Max didn't require more than a one or two word answer. Maybe that was why those were the only responses he ever gave. He'd learned to get by on the simplest of things. Mary knew he was not a neglected child; Brandi and Peter loved him and would move the earth for him, just as they would for Robyn. But, it had been far too easy for him to slip through the cracks. Mary suspected her sister had become used to the way her son was, and didn't consider there might be more for him to grab.

"What are you doing out here by yourself, bud?" Mary knew she'd have to ask sometime, and hoped it was easier when they didn't have to face each other. "You're not still worried about your mom, are you?"

Max shrugged from her front-side, and his carefree vibe turned distinctly somber, "I didn't want to mess things up for Norah and Robyn and Alice," he admitted. "I'm not very good at the stuff they like to do, and they don't want to play with me anyway…"

"They might, Max…" Mary urged, squeezing him a little tighter with the suggestion. "They might if you keep trying. It's hard to be different, man, but…"

"I'll never be like them," he actually interrupted, thoroughly stunning Mary. Suddenly, she wished she could see his face. "They're girls and I'm not."

"Max, you don't have to be a girl for them to like you…" she encouraged, trying not to make this sound obvious.

But, with this thought came another; her support tapered off as the proverbial light bulb flashed over her head. Max had to know being a boy was something special, not something abnormal. And she had suddenly remembered, with a painful jab, who had thought his being male had been most exciting of all.

"You know…" she began cagily, winding her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder, watching the sun sink still further behind the treetops. "There was a certain someone who thought you being a boy was pretty boss."

She knew Max understood the adjective when used in such context, and he almost turned to try and address her, "Really? Who?"

Mary exhaled, her shoulders slumping, her hands intertwining on Max's belly. It made her feel closer, more whole, to have him pressed against her – to feel his skin on hers. It made the revelation less hurtful.

"Jinx."

She felt Max's body sink inward in dejection, "But…Jinx isn't here anymore."

"It doesn't change the facts, pal," Mary powered onward, determined to get him to see; determined to have him mold out of his very isolated shell. "She was overjoyed that you were a boy. She ought to know – she was there when you were born."

Though Max didn't bite right away, Mary could tell by the way he sat up a little straighter that he was interested. He maneuvered himself a little further back, squinting through his glasses at the setting sun.

"She was?" he questioned cautiously. "She was there when Norah and Robyn and Alice were born too then…"

"Nope…" Mary wagged her head from side-to-side, shooting down the idea that he had been in good company. Her hands looked large and her fingers long in his tiny lap. "She was there for part of the time with all four of you. But you, my man, you were the only one she got to see land," an emphasis just to seal the deal. "She probably saw you even before your mom did."

"Before my dad too?" Max posed, voice inching up in reluctant eagerness.

"Mmm…" Mary doubted that one. "Probably not," she conceded. "I would guess Jinx and your dad got the first glimpse together."

Max seemed partially gratified by this, but now he was anxious to hear more. Mary was surprised he'd never gotten a taste of this story, but Brandi had never been bigheaded about her experiences with childbirth. Two C-sections, one of them an emergency, didn't inspire a lot of late-night tales.

"Do you know what else happened?" he shifted sideways now, able to stare up at his aunt with curiosity. "When I came?"

Looking at him, Mary was struck by how strangely adult he looked for a six-year-old. She knew it was the suit and the glasses that were projecting such a thing, but it was still odd. Maybe it was the fact that he was finally talking that aided the image. It made him seem more capable.

"Most of what I know happened before you showed up," Mary tried to sound somewhat inviting, glad he was taking to this the way that she'd hoped. "But, I know you came insanely early in the morning – like at 5:30 – because that's when they wanted your mom at the hospital."

Max nodded, bidding for her to continue.

"Everybody actually stayed at our house the night before, because Marshall and I were going to watch Robyn," she detailed. "I guess she was about three."

"So, you didn't come?" he appeared disheartened. "To the hospital?"

Mary was glad he didn't have to stay depressed and forged on, "Well, that was the plan…" wiggling her fingers in his side, trying to get him to giggle. "But at the last minute I decided I was gonna go along – hang out in the waiting room until you made your big entrance. After the scare Robyn gave us, I didn't fancy being there when you came out screaming; no offense, bud."

Fortunately, he did laugh after the tickling, and Mary knew he'd been privy to specifications on Robyn's birth, so at least he understood. His giggle was stunning; it streamed lightness into the dimness they were fast-falling into. It reminded Mary there was still some tiny, miniscule bit of purity left in the world.

"Afraid I don't know too much more," she conceded once his mirthless shakes died down. "But, Jinx was the one who told me that you'd arrived – since your mom and dad were kind of busy."

"What'd she say?"

Mary closed her eyes, not really feeling the bitter cold anymore, although she knew her hands would be numb when they went back inside. She could see the grey couches in the waiting room. She could see the dated magazines on the coffee table. She could feel the itching tiredness behind her eyes that meant she'd been up way too early.

But, she saw something else as well. Something more tempting. Something reassuring. Something she needed this very minute.

"Mary, honey!" came the shrill bellow of her over-enthusiastic mother.

Mary leapt from the sofa, flinging her magazine to the side, all ears and alert. Who cared that it was just after six A.M. and she was going to have one cranky four-year-old when she got home? Marshall would deal with Norah. She had to deal with this.

"Jesus, you were quick," the daughter couldn't resist voicing, wondering if this meant there was an anomaly of some kind. "How'd it go? The kid's not here already, right?"

It couldn't be possible that they got Brandi sliced open in that short span of time. Surely there was more prep time; more formalities. Jinx wasn't even wearing scrubs.

But, her mother smiled broadly; so wide you could see all her teeth, "He sure is."

Mary didn't hear it at first. She had been ready to learn there'd be some sort of hitch; that they'd be here all afternoon yet; that she'd have to miss work. Brandi was going to be numb for the better part of the day. After Robyn, she didn't imagine her sister knew how to give birth without drama.

"What'd you say?"

Jinx let out a joyous sigh, "Angel, he's here already!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands in front of her chest in her elation. "He! He! It's a boy!"

"What?!" Mary could not help her astonishment, unable to wrap her brain around the fact that they'd reached the finish line so quickly. "Damn, you got off easy!" she claimed. "You were in there thirty minutes! I was with her for twenty hours with Robyn!"

"Mary, you are impossible!" Jinx proclaimed, but she was still grinning cheekily. "Do you even listen? Our first boy!" she repeated, still at the top of her voice. "I thought sure we'd have another girl!"

Mary was beginning to get with it now; her mention of Robyn had brought the enormity of the situation to the forefront. She was running to get caught up, knowing it was about time she asked the most essential questions.

"Is he okay?" she practically burst in her eagerness to get with the program. "He's healthy, and everything? What about Brandi?" she couldn't forget the hemorrhaging.

"Brandi is happy as a clam. And he is…"

Jinx gave a girlish, far-away sigh of contentment, eyes straying from her oldest daughter to bask in the bliss of grandchild number three.

"He's gorgeous," she finally concluded. "Handsome does not begin to describe it. Oh, I'm so glad Brandi decided not to find out…" she must be referring to the sex. "It's so exciting with the surprise like this…"

"Norah and Robyn are gonna kick him around the rest of his life, you know that, right?" Mary quipped, but she kept the josh in her eyes to show Jinx she was teasing, at least partially.

"Why, because he's different?" Jinx took on an affronted approach, but Mary could tell she was not really offended.

"I'm not saying…"

"He's unique," Jinx insisted boldly, not even allowing Mary the opportunity to finish. "It makes him exceptional. My little Maxwell."

"Maxwell?" Mary snorted. "He selling coffee in the nursery?"

"Max," Jinx clarified. "They'll call him Max – with the X on the end just like his Grandma. He and I will be buddies."

"Well, that's better…"

Her six-year-old was grinning now, so enriched by the thought that he and Jinx had something so special in common – just a letter on the end of their names. But, it made him exactly what Jinx had said he was, and Mary didn't hesitate to reiterate it.

"Unique, Max…" she whispered, clutching him still tighter, trying to bottle the moment, knowing it was fading fast and the real world was going to crash back down again very soon. "Unique, not different. That's what Jinx always said, and she was right."

Max nodded, blinking shyly beneath his glasses, validated and soothed by his aunt's thoughtful story. Mary wished she could say the same for herself, reflecting as she allowed her nephew to face the trees once more that Jinx had been hung up on Max from the beginning. There were no favorites; no preferences. Each grandchild was as special as the next, in their own wonderful ways.

Was there a reason she couldn't make the distinction with her mother and father, the way Jinx had for the kids?

"I really did like that song they sang this morning…" Max murmured, obviously hanging onto it. "I liked the end. How did it go again?"

Mary held him close, breathed him in, tried to capture the essence of his innocence. Nothing yet had helped to ease the ache of the guilt floating in her belly, and she feared she was running out of time. No Jinx, no James; no security; no promises.

"Which part?"

"The end," Max repeated. "What'd they say?"

"You have to see him, Mary. You will adore him the minute you lay eyes on that beautiful face."

She sighed the reply, "I love you so."

XXX

A/N: I know there hasn't been any Mary/Marshall in the last two chapters, but I hope the next few will make up for it! Like I said, I worry that Max is too much like Jesse from the Sam series, but I do my best to make them different. I also still prefer my Max as a baby than as a six-year-old, but he is what he is LOL!