A/N: I had forgotten how long the chapters are in this part of the story…

XXX

"Everybody's here, you know."

"Everybody?"

"Yep. Everybody."

"Who?"

"Your dad – my dad. Jill. Mom. Brandi. Peter and Robyn and Max too."

"Not Joanna?"

"Seriously, how many people do you need? Like you're not popular enough already?"

The note in Norah's voice was jokey, not laced with its typical disdain when she spoke about just how many individuals put their lives on hold for Alice, or so it seemed to her. Given the small smile her little sister fed her, she understood the tone for what it was.

Norah didn't have a lot of experience with hospitals, and they didn't make her as uncomfortable as they appeared to make so many others. The only time she could ever remember being in one was after Alice had been born; she'd come with Brandi after school; it had been the day before Thanksgiving. She'd been a little frightened by the IV line in her mother's arm, it was true, but other than that she hadn't found the place particularly formidable.

Now, taking in the surroundings around Alice's bed, she saw the aforementioned IV pole, the needle affixed firmly to the younger girl's wrist. The space wasn't very well lit; it was shadowy everywhere except around the bed. All the light came from a set of bulbs in the wall above the mattress and was controlled by a switch. It was pitch dark outside the tiny window with white net curtains, but every so often flashes of red and blue would hit the panes and bathe them in whirling Technicolor, if only briefly.

Alice wore a loose gown printed with orange tigers; it had an aqua green collar, which Norah found to be an odd color combination. Her brunette curls had been released of a ponytail and they hung, matted and coiled, around her shoulders. The virtual spotlight they were ensconced in highlighted the few faint freckles sprinkled across her nose. She looked pale, but not at death's door. Norah took comfort in that.

"What are they doing?" Alice asked, referring to everyone that had showed up in the middle of the night on her behalf.

Norah snorted from where she sat at the end of the bed, mindful not to put pressure on her sister's legs where they were stretched out.

"Fighting."

"About what?"

"I don't know…" Norah shrugged, not having really listened to the specifics. "Mom got really pissed because she told dad not to come and he didn't listen. Plus, he brought Jill. That made her mad too."

Instead of fixating on why it was that no one could stand Jill when she saw nothing wrong with her, Alice deviated to something different. She was enjoying Norah's unusually amicable company too much to risk rocking the boat.

"Does it bother you when mom and Mark fight?"

Alice had never asked her this before. Indeed, no one had really asked her how she felt about the turmoil that raged as of late, most of it created by the teenager herself. It was nice to be asked.

"Yeah, kind of…" the seventh grader hunched her shoulders and played with a stray thread on her giant shirt. "It would be better if they got along, but they never have. Sometimes, they're okay to each other, but dad always tries too hard and mom doesn't want to give him a chance."

"They used to kind of be friends, didn't they?" the younger recalled vaguely. "A long time ago?"

"I guess so," Norah admitted. "But, that was before dad started going out with Jill." She sighed morosely, but not theatrically. "You're lucky, Alice. Mom and Marshall never argue."

"They did before we came here," she shared at once, bizarrely eager to have something in common with her big sister, even if it was something neither one of them would wish on the other. "They were screaming at each other."

"Before you came to the hospital, you mean?"

"Yeah," Alice confirmed, suddenly very chatty. "Daddy was acting really weird. He was running all over the place and his eyes were all big in his face. Mommy shouted at him because she didn't want to come to the hospital."

"For real?"

"Mmm hmm…" she hummed. "But, I guess its good we did. My belly hurt so bad."

"Does it hurt now?"

"A little."

Norah thought about that for a moment, flip-flopping on whether she should be nice enough to offer to get Alice something – a drink, a nurse, an extra pillow. But, she seemed okay, and acting too mushy would only give her false ideas. She wanted to be the mature one, the way her mother was always telling her she should be. A peculiar sensation had struck her when she'd wheedled it out of Mark that Alice was sick and had gone to the emergency room. She'd been worried, yes, especially given the way they had left things. But, more than that, she wanted to provide a harbor for her little sister – someone to hang onto, a sounding board. Like Mary had done for Brandi for so many years.

But, even wishing she could be the brave one, she didn't want to overdo it. They weren't best buddies, and Alice would probably just grow suspicious if Norah started fluffing her sheets and showering her with treasures from the crummy gift shop downstairs.

"Do all mommies and daddies get mad at each other?" the ailing one questioned when the silence had gone on long enough, probably mulling over the tiff Mary and Marshall had-had hours earlier and how rare it had been.

"Most of them, I think," Norah offered, chewing absently on her thumbnail. "I guess everybody that gets married does."

"Stan and Lia don't," Alice pointed out.

"I bet they do; we just don't see them."

"Mark and Jill don't."

"Yeah, well, they're not married yet, are they?" Norah reminded her with a devious smirk.

"Do you wanna get married someday?"

In typical teenager fashion, the blonde didn't even think; she blurted out the first thought that came into her head. Not only that, she made an appropriate face to go along, wrinkling her nose and sticking her tongue out, indicating complete and utter disgust.

"Are you kidding?" she made a gagging noise just to make sure her opinion could not be misconstrued. "Boys are gross."

"Yeah, boys are gross!" Alice echoed excitedly, taking no offense from the other's repulsion of the opposite sex. "Well, except there's this one…"

"Oh, dear me, Alice…" Norah groaned.

"Only one!" she didn't want to lose her ground with her big sister; staying on the same plane was essential; it meant they were in sync now when they hadn't been in ages. "He's in my class! His name is Shawn…"

"You haven't been kissing him, have you?"

"Ewwwww!" a squeal, spluttering dramatically. "That's disgusting! And, anyway, I'd get in so much trouble if I kissed him!" she added. "But, he is kind of…a little bit cute…"

Norah played along with the first grade romance, mostly so she could have blackmail material later, but she couldn't deny it was funny to think about her baby sister interested in any male.

"Cute is not enough, Alice," she said sagely, as if she had the first clue about such things. "Tell me he's got something going for him other than his looks."

"He runs really fast!" she shared exuberantly. "He's the fastest boy in the whole first grade! But, he never brags about it; he's kind of shy. That's why I like him…"

"Because he lets you tell him what to do?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Sounds like a match made in heaven."

The sarcasm was evident, but she made sure to smile after the fact, which caused Alice to grin as well. Norah figured it made her feel grown up, more like a middle schooler or a big girl, to even be thinking about boys. Dimly, she wondered what Mary would say if she could hear them. Part of her knew. She'd shut them down or pretend not to know of their feelings at all – ignorance is bliss, after all. Marshall would tease them just enough to make their cheeks turn pink and then he would poke a finger in their sides and let it go.

Norah felt in tune with both reactions, but it was therapeutic to be able to talk about something silly and girlish without having to concern herself with what her parents would think. She didn't have any friends to discuss relationships with, and Robyn could be a dangerous confidante. A six-year-old wasn't her first choice, but it was better than nothing.

"Well, maybe you'll get hitched down the road, but I won't," vocalizing how she was soured on weddings, leaning her weight onto one hand at the end of the bed. "Guys are more trouble than they're worth. Trust me."

"There aren't any cute ones in middle school?" Alice looked faintly disappointed by future prospects being cut off.

"Not in the seventh grade. Not in the sixth or eighth grade either," she revealed. "But…"

Here, hesitation took over. Alice, ill or not, was still Alice; she could still have a big mouth and use it at the most inopportune times. An appendix teetering on the edge of bursting did not change this. In a few days, she could be back to her old squirrely self, and would do anything to get Norah's goat.

But, the anticipatory look in her eyes was one that the thirteen-year-old had never really cared to evaluate before. So wrapped up in her own drama, she'd never opened her eyes to the yearning, the feeling of belonging and stimulation that would occur if she would share a tiny tidbit of life before high school. It was a magical, mysterious world where Alice did not fit. Norah was her only link, minus Robyn. They were how she connected, and it was their thoughts that influenced whether she looked to the future with thrill or consternation.

"If I tell you this, you can't tell anybody else, you hear?"

"I promise!"

"I mean it. Swear?"

"Swear!" she might've been bouncing up and down, if not for her sensitive stomach. "To hell!"

Norah shot her an exasperated glance, "Don't go around talking like that."

"You do."

"I don't care if I do; you shouldn't."

"Are you gonna tell me, or not?"

She had been stalling, just the way that Mary did when she didn't want to face facts. Norah hated it when she wanted to coax something out of her mother. She supposed it was ironic that she was doing it to Alice now.

Sighing loudly and flapping her lips together so that they made a thespian horse-like neigh, she shook her head laboriously and just hoped no one was listening at the door.

"I have this teacher…" she started in a low, cagey way, inching a little closer to the head of the bed as she did so. "It's my last class of the day. His name is Mr. Harrington. He teaches social studies."

"So, what?" Alice was nonplussed.

"So…" Norah emphasized, rolling her eyes because she knew the first grader was really too young to understand. "He's really smart. He reads aloud from the textbook, and his voice is kind of slow; he stretches out the words so that they last twice as long…" it was mortifying, how dreamy she sounded, but she didn't stop there. "And, he is so adorable; he wears a shirt and tie every day…"

But, at this point, Alice – six years old or not – had figured out where this was going. Her horror might've been frankly hilarious if Norah had been paying much attention, but she was caught up in her scholarly fantasy. But, if anyone was going to shake her from it, it was most certainly going to be her obnoxious little sister.

"You're in love with a teacher?!" she yelped so loudly that patients several doors down probably would've been able to hear her. Mouth still hanging slack, "That is so icky! That's like being in love with someone who's a daddy!"

"It is not!" Norah protested, returning to reality as though she'd been conked on the head. "And, I'm not in love with him!" it was only a crush, and the only class where the teacher didn't despise her; she would take what she could get. "It's not like he's old! He told us; he just finished college, so he's only, like, twenty-five…"

"That's still creepy!" Alice insisted steadfastly. "I'm gonna tell mommy; she'll think…"

"You're not telling her anything!" Norah reminded her seriously. "You promised you wouldn't!"

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't…"

"Alice!"

The little girl giggled mirthlessly, "Just kidding…"

But, her chuckles were short-lived, because the quavering in her abdominal region caused her to curl up into a ball and clutch her midsection, the laughs turning to wheezes and gasps. It was as though the knob had been turned on a faucet; the sounds of pure happiness vanished and were replaced immediately with moans and whimpers. At first, it seemed Alice was trying her hardest not to start crying, but panic at the pain coming back sent the tears into full force.

"What's the matter?" Norah put forward, surprising even herself at how steady her voice was; she didn't move; she just solicited information.

"My tummy feels bad again…" Alice divulged between squeaks, rolling over onto her side, knees hunched to her chest. "It hurts…it hurts; I want it to stop hurting…"

Now Norah was on her feet, "Do you want me to get mom?"

No response, just wetness soaking into the pristine white pillow. Rather than pump her for a comeback, the older girl motored around the side of the bed and knelt in front of her face so they were eye to eye – brown to blue. Mark's to Marshall's. Goofy to studious. Sweet to sensitive. Carefree to careworn. And switching roles on any given day.

"You should breathe…" Norah whispered, still without her voice climbing one iota. "Like when you're at the doctor and they put their stethoscope on your chest. Breathe in…"

Extraordinarily, Alice did what she said; even it was rattled and wobbly.

"Yeah, like that. Now, let it out…"

"Will that make it feel better?" she peeped fearfully.

"Yeah, definitely. It only started up again because you were laughing; it'll be over soon."

"You promise?"

"I wouldn't lie to you."

Meanwhile, in the twisting and turning corridor outside of Alice's private quarters, Mary and Marshall had managed to disentangle themselves from all the external parties to check up on their daughter. Marshall still felt like he was living outside himself, as though everything around him was happening in a movie and he was just a mesmerized spectator. He couldn't explain where the stupor came from, but it had been strong enough to keep him from interfering in the face-off. All in all, he was coming to a bit better; Mary's long and purposeful stride beside him was slowly pulling him back into the present.

"I'm not sure I really want to know what's going on back here…" the woman babbled hurriedly, passing carts filled with blankets and pillows, bulletin boards bearing crayoned drawings. "What possessed me to let Norah come, I have no idea…"

"I'm sure they're fine…" Marshall replied dully, mostly because he knew he was supposed to give a response.

"I don't know…" she predicted darkly. "Norah isn't known for taking a day off on abusing everyone, no matter what the circumstances…"

"Hard to say…" talking was helping; it was making him feel more alert and less bemused. "But, she seemed pretty impatient to see her; that doesn't necessarily indicate anything foreboding."

"She's probably reading Alice the riot act right now because her exploding appendix means she won't get enough sleep tonight."

It was true that Marshall had been just as aggravated with Norah as his wife had in the hours before all hell had broken loose. The way she had purposely tried to injure her little sister's feelings by trivializing their relationship, no matter how rocky, had been extremely below the belt. But, things were different now, and he liked to think that Norah could put her hostility aside to be, if not a nurturing sister, than at least a friend.

And, in any case, when more awareness filtered into Marshall's brain, he recalled more of Mary's boxing match with Mark. He might've still been at the bottom of the well, decaying over Alice's state of being, but a few things had gotten through.

"Leaping to negative conclusions will not help anything," he informed Mary solidly, liking how much more assertive his voice sounded. "Max is right, you know. We shouldn't be ripping each other to shreds."

"I already got that speech from Brandi," Mary grumbled moodily.

"I don't just mean tonight," Marshall insisted, glad they were still moving so that Mary could not stop and bore into him with a glare. "There has been entirely too much wrestling going on lately…"

"I can only hope you mean that in a symbolic sense…" the blonde grumped. "Because, picturing anyone in colored, stretchy underwear and you with hair long enough to tie into a ponytail is frightening on so many levels."

"Don't evade," his newfound forcefulness was taking him to a higher level of confrontation. "And, do me the courtesy of listening to what I'm saying. Norah has been getting the brunt of our aggressions for I don't know how long because she likes to stir the pot, but she's not the only one. You want to talk about being a role model, well…"

"Well, what?" Mary snapped as they turned a corner, room B17 in sight at the far end.

"Well, she is far from the single perpetrator," he concluded. "Alice argues with you, you argue with Mark, Brandi argues with Robyn, Robyn argues with Peter; even the way you and I talk to each other could stand some reform."

"There's nothing wrong with the way we talk to each other…"

"Not for us, because we're used to it; it's how we operate," he was referring to the constant jabs and uppercuts they took on one another's quirks and eccentricities; it was a rhythm they had been in for upwards of twenty years. "But, you can't be sure that doesn't carry over when those who are more impressionable are listening in," he meant Norah and Alice. "Don't you think we're kind of showing them that it's okay to make fun of each other so long as they don't really mean it?"

"If you think I'm going to start kissing your feet and batting my eyelashes and not making comments about the way you use three different combs and a brush to style your hair in the morning, then you have another thing coming…"

"I don't mean that; I just mean…"

"Look…"

Finally, Mary twirled around to face him, because they had reached the entrance to Alice's room at last. Before opening the door, she wanted him to get a few things straight. She respected his opinion; she always had, she always would. But, there was a time and a place, and she didn't have the stamina to overhaul her life right now.

"Marshall, I'm tired…" she gave a sardonic laugh and shook her head. "I'm beat. And, I know that what I just put Mark through wasn't fair – to him, to Jill, to Max, to everyone. I'm not the most flattering person when I'm worried."

"Good thing I love you anyway."

"Yeah…" she appreciated his kindness. "Yeah, good thing, because who the hell else would?"

"Mmm, I can think of a few…"

"Well, hold that thought," she requested. "Because, right now, I need to make sure Norah hasn't taken an extra punch to Alice's gut since they're gonna do surgery anyway and she couldn't waste the opportunity."

Without waiting for Marshall to stomp all over her pessimism here as well, she turned her back on him and rotated the knob on the door, although she could see a sliver of what was going on inside through a long skinny window just the height of her eyes. She spotted Norah on the end of the bed, perched on her knees, but could discern nothing of Alice, whose form was obscured by an alove's inner wall just inside the door.

It was safe to assume neither one of them had heard the swing of the hinges, because when Mary stepped inside, Marshall right on her heels, she could hear them talking as though no one were listening in. It was shameless to eavesdrop – something Brandi would do – but she couldn't stop herself. Shrinking behind the handy wall, home to a sink and counter, she hid herself to listen to just a few phrases. It wasn't often she got to find out what the girls said when she was not around.

"I'm not making it up…" that was Norah.

"I think you are. You're just saying it so I'll laugh and hurt myself again."

"Way to have faith, Alice!" the older snickered. "I'm not evil, you know; I wouldn't do that."

"Uh-huh…"

"Okay, so maybe I would," Norah admitted. "But, only if it wasn't gonna hurt you that bad. I'm not trying to kill you or anything…"

"I still think you're lying."

"Look, you can ask mom when she comes back! She'll tell you!"

"Fine, maybe I will. But, mommy doesn't know how to cut hair, so there is no way she would cut Max's."

Good God. That had been eons ago. Mary remembered it perfectly, but she was surprised that Norah did; she'd been so little. Maybe the reasons Alice was giving were the reasons it had stuck in her brain – because it was so out of character for the inspector; so spontaneous.

"Look, you saw how it looked in that video the other night, right?" Norah reminded her. "He couldn't even see; it was hanging in his eyes and he was like some rock star on television. Mom hated it…"

"But, who told her to cut it?"

"I did," there was a note of pride there. "And, I convinced her, and she trimmed it; it looked way better. She really thought she was going to cut too much and then Max would go bald…"

"Like Stan?"

"Yeah…" Norah chortled. "Can you picture Max in a suit and tie like his?"

Alice giggled too, but tentatively, like she was holding back, "If he was gonna be like Stan, he'd have to get a girl like Lia. They could dance together…"

"No way does Max know how to dance."

"Lia could teach him."

"Or mom."

If Mary's ears weren't perked before, they certainly were now. Since when did Norah think she was a waltzing expert, especially considering all the women in her life that actually were light on their feet? Jinx was just the beginning; there was the aforementioned Lia, and Robyn, despite her hyperactive early days, had grown into quite the twirler. The last person anyone would go to for such knowledge was Mary.

Alice, it seemed, felt the same as her mother; her voice indicated as much from where Mary was still huddled in the shadows.

"Mommy doesn't like to dance. Does she even know how?"

This miffed the woman only slightly, as she was not entirely incompetent in such an area. Norah apparently was reading her mind.

"Sure she knows how. She had Jinx for a mom, didn't she?"

"But, Jinx always said she never liked ballet or anything like that. She thought it was too girly."

"Well, maybe," Mary could picture her older daughter shrugging. "But, that doesn't mean she can't do it if she really wants to. I've seen her and Marshall dance before."

Whatever Alice thought about this, the snooping one didn't really listen to. She was too busy wracking her brains trying to figure out any time in recent memory when Norah would've witnessed her sashaying around with her husband like their living room – or anywhere else, for that matter – was a talent competition. She was always so careful to hide any extroverted behavior she might allow to leak out a whim, always prodded along by Marshall's coaching. He was the one who always had her making a fool of herself, and she found herself hoping that Norah was going to enlighten her baby sister. She could use a memory boost.

"When?" the smaller girl proposed, granting Mary's silent wish.

"It was a long time ago," Norah began, although not with the air that she would turn this into an elongated story. "I was like, five, maybe. They'd just told me about you, actually."

"What about me?"

"That you were going to be born – that mom was pregnant. They thought I was in bed; Marshall had this plinky-plunky, schmaltzy piano music on…

It was hard for Mary to suppress a smile at just how like her-her daughter sounded, this time for good instead of bad.

"It was playing out of the TV speakers. I was listening from the bathroom door; mom was all stressed out and he thought the music would relax her."

"Why was she stressed out?"

There was a tiny hint of neediness in Alice's voice, as if she couldn't envision anyone being the least bit upset when she was set to make her arrival, however many months in the future.

"I guess because I wasn't happy enough about you," Norah said it slowly, no emotion detectable in her tone; it was simple fact. "I mean, I wasn't upset, but I didn't think of babies as being all that exciting. I did wonder if you would be, like, three feet long when you were born because Marshall is so tall."

"Really?" the little one giggled; it was a noise that brought such joy to Mary's heart.

"Yeah, and I told mom that, and I think it scared her because it was such a dumb question. But, I really didn't know."

"That's silly."

"Yeah, well, I was a little kid," Norah admitted. "I also thought you might talk the second you came out – I knew you'd be smart because Marshall is about as close to a genius that you can get."

Here, the inspector relayed a timid, but touched, glance to the man at her shoulder. He wasn't welling up, but the evidence as to how moved he was shimmered in his sky blue eyes. But, the teenager wasn't the only one handing out accolades.

"Mommy is smart too."

This, from the world's leading daddy's girl.

"Duh," Norah scoffed, although not entirely unkindly. "Of course mom is smart. She's a US Marshal. She kicks the bad guys on their ass every day of the week."

"Not anymore."

"No, but she used to," the older reassured her. "And, I'm not kidding, by the way," getting back on track. "She and Marshall did dance that night. Mom was upset about me, but she shouldn't have been; I was really curious to see what you'd be like even if I didn't act like it. Marshall must've known it, though, because he kissed her a lot and made her get off the couch, and he swayed back and forth with her. They were both in pajamas."

Alice snickered again, "Was mommy fat?"

"A little. Not really."

"Did the dance make her feel better?"

"Yeah, I think so. I liked watching them…"

For a moment, the girls were quiet, and even on this side of the wall, she could imagine that Norah was picturing the scene in her mind's eye all over again. She knew, because she was envisioning it as well. Until Norah had brought it up, she'd entirely forgotten about that evening, although she couldn't see how; any kind of impulsiveness and affection on her part was rare and to be noted. But, misplaced or not, the images were now rushing back as though it had happened yesterday.

She had, indeed, been fretting over Norah's reaction to having a younger sibling. She'd been nonplussed – not thrilled, not dismayed, not shocked. Nothing. She'd shrugged and asked a few questions, like when the baby would be born and if it's kicking hurt Mary. She'd been such a little caretaker in those days, and yet her deadpan attitude had been unnerving. Apparently, Mary had-had no reason to worry, even in spite of the cat fights the two sisters had these days.

And, Marshall had erased her fears with a few well-chosen words and literally swept her off her feet. For once, she had let him; she'd been tired and nauseous and uncertain about what lay ahead. The feel of his hands on her back, his breath in her ear, the stubble on his chin tickling her cheek, was the perfect recipe to washing her troubles away.

"Did they ever know you were there?" Alice was suddenly asking, causing Mary to tune back in.

"Nah. It was better that way; they didn't try to hide anything."

"What else did daddy do?" the brunette was caught up in the fantasy of the whole thing, like it had come straight from a story book.

"You know – the things he always does when mom's in a mood," the thirteen-year-old tried to downplay it. "Acted like a smart ass; she loves that."

Mary distinctly heard Marshall chuckle softly behind her.

"Told her he loved her – that he always would. And then knew enough to keep his mouth shut."

"If you could be with someone like daddy, would you get married?"

This was out of left field, and Mary had to be careful not to lose her balance from where she was still huddled next to the sink. Since when did her two daughters discuss weddings? She knew the situation with Jill probably had it on both their minds, but first and seventh graders didn't have a lot in common as far as the opposite sex. One was afraid of cooties and the other found the idea of kissing a boy as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

"I don't know…" Norah whispered eventually, but she sounded deep in thought. "I guess. Maybe. I'd still be afraid that I would end up divorced like mom and dad."

This brought chills to the mother's spine, but they were quickly warmed by what came next.

"But, you're brave," Alice said, as though she needed reminding. "You don't get scared. Not like me."

"Yeah, but I don't think being brave is really about not being scared…"

Marshall's hand wrapped around her waist and squeezed. By touch and not by sight, Mary found his hand in her curve and threaded her fingers through it.

"It is about being scared. And then doing it anyway."

XXX

A/N: Of course I don't want to perpetuate the notion that everything is going to change overnight, but I am well practiced in taking creative license.