A/N: It makes me so happy that I inspired some emotion in someone – thanks, jekkah!

XXX

The dawn approached slowly, even once the waters calmed and the tide had transitioned to a lull. It seemed to Mary that the sun was never going to come up; it would be forever hidden beneath the mountains on the far off horizon – a perpetual nighttime, a supernatural phenomenon for all to witness. She'd suffered through longer nights before, but this one had such an endless quality that not even the evening she had spent chained to a post had held. Perhaps that was because she hadn't been able to see outside then, no sense of where today ended and tomorrow began – indeed, if there would be a tomorrow at all. It was almost more daunting knowing tomorrow was going to arrive and that you couldn't stop it no matter how long the wait.

After wheedling Alice into a fitful sleep that was punctuated by starts from a nurse entering or a particularly loud beep of a monitor, Marshall persuaded one of the doctors to give his daughter something to help her rest. In spite of the physician's protests that she would get sleep soon – like, when she was under anesthesia – eventually he caved. It wasn't strong, but it was enough to keep her under on a more elongated basis; now, she would only wake when a parent whispered in her ear.

Around six thirty, still two and a half hours from surgery at the earliest, both Mary and Marshall permitted themselves a return to the waiting room. The space had cleared out; Mark and Jill had taken Norah back to their place, with likewise being done by Brandi and Peter and their kids. Though Mary had longed for the quiet before, now it was almost too silent; the emptiness settled in her bones and she felt oddly lonely.

But, isolation did not plague her for long. In spite of her worries over the operation as well as Alice snoozing by herself, exhaustion caught up with her. She wasn't sure if she fell asleep before or after Marshall, but he was dozing on the stiff couch just as she began to shut her eyes in the single chair, head lolling unpleasantly onto the armrest. For once, she was glad that practicality took her over; much as she wanted to stay up and be alert for any changes on Alice's condition, this was a fight she couldn't win. If her daughter was going to get some sleep, she might as well too.

It was hard to say at what hour she came to, but there were only three things she noticed as her vision came into focus, switching from blurry to clear as she tried to ascertain what had woken her and why. First, she realized that the sun was not, in fact, going to stay sheltered forever. It was slowly peeking its pinky-and-orange face behind the peaks of the Sandias outside a window at the far end of the room. It cast the area in a warm, rosy hue, making Mary feel as though she'd woken up in a fantasy rather than an all-too-authentic reality.

Second, she saw that Marshall was still zonked across from her. How, she wasn't sure, because the sofa was hard as a rock and he had no pillow or blanket, but that didn't stop him from getting as many winks as he could. His hands were folded under his head like a little boy's, long legs protruding over the end of the couch. Lastly, the reason she was now facing the world instead of remaining caught in a dream was standing right in front of her – Brandi, properly dressed but less made-up than usual, carrying a plastic sack in one hand and Mary's worn brown tote in the other.

"Mmm…" the older sister hummed, rubbing one eye with her index finger and elbowing up. Squinting upward, "It's you…"

"Nice greeting," Brandi tested a joke, counting on Mary to be a little more tolerant now that she'd had some sleep. "And, yes, it's me. I brought you some clothes…" she held up the grocery sack.

"Thanks…" Mary rasped throatily, swinging her legs over the end of the sofa and taking the first of the bags. "I guess I'll have to find somewhere to change…"

"There's a bathroom around the corner," the younger told her, gesturing over her shoulder. "I think there's one in Alice's room too."

"I'll just use the communal one," Mary had no idea where she'd come up with such a flowery word when her head was hardly screwed on straight, but it must've been the Marshall in her. "Did you bring anything for Marshall?" she questioned, remembering once she'd thought of her husband.

"Yeah; there's a pair of jeans and a T-shirt in there," Brandi directed. "Sorry, I forgot to grab a jacket."

"I think he brought one…" the other glanced around, unable to recall exactly. "Maybe he left it with Alice. I don't know…"

"I can go back if you think of anything else you want," Brandi offered. "I saw your purse in your room, so I took it, but I didn't put anything in it expect your glasses. They were on the table by your bed."

"It's not a purse," Mary griped innocently. "But, thanks. It was pretty sad last night when I was trying to read all the admission and insurance forms; it's like I'm trying to look through water. Marshall had to fill in most of them for me."

"I didn't see the case though, so I hope I didn't break them or anything, just throwing them in there."

"I guess we'll find out."

"Have you heard anything new on Alice?" Brandi inquired, thinking it was safe to take a seat, which she did on the coffee table in front of her sister. "Is she just back in her room?"

"Hopefully sleeping," the inspector noted. "And, everything is status quo as far as I know. Losing her appendix at nine, barring emergencies that come in."

"Have they said how long she'll be here after the surgery? A couple days?"

"They're thinking Saturday, unless she had a complication or something," Mary shared, not even liking to entertain the notion. And then, hoping she didn't sound too stupid, but deciding it was only Brandi and that incoherent was subjective with her around, "What is today?"

"Thursday," the blonder supplied without teasing. "A school day…" she chuckled sadly, as if having school on anyone's radar was nothing short of foolish. "Peter said we should go ahead and send the kids, but I don't know…"

"It'll be better for them to keep busy," Mary decided, taking out the shirt her sister had brought for her and shaking out the wrinkles. "Of course it'll be a bitch for them to try to stay awake."

"Well, that's what I thought…"

"Still," the older interrupted, thinking the topic wasn't up for debate as far as Norah was concerned. "All this conference business going on – it doesn't pay to make mistakes or play hooky."

Why she was even thinking about such a thing right now was beyond her, and she wanted to hit herself for bringing it up. What did Norah's sub-par performance in the classroom matter when they had Alice mere hours away from having her stomach sliced open? If anything, this eventuality should be encouraging the teenager to get her shit together because there were far more important things to consider.

But, when Mary remembered listening to the two sisters, normally so hateful toward one another, swap stories and giggle, her heart softened a little. It was relieving to know that, whatever Norah's problems, when push came to shove she was not the tyrant she had been acting like as of late. When Alice had been in danger, she had come to play – stepped up to the plate and hit it out of the park. It had been a long time since Mary had not heard a disparaging comment come out of her mouth when Alice was in the vicinity, and so she should be thanking her lucky stars that such a tender moment had come to pass between the two.

"I don't think one day off would've had the truant officer coming to call," Brandi hypothesized, seemingly blind to Mary's deeper thoughts. "But, whatever. Peter's probably getting Robyn and Max up right now," checking her watch. "It's kind of weird not being there…"

For Brandi, it would be strange, Mary reflected. But, for the latter, she was used to being away when her child emerged from the covers to start the day anew. Such was the problem with a divided household – a divided household, it seemed, that had caused Norah to bypass the idea of marriage almost completely.

But, thinking about either of Brandi's children made her recall her blow up from earlier and the way one of them had reacted. The younger Shannon's segue was as good as any other.

"Listen…" the Marshal fumbled inexpertly at first, not the best at choking out apologies even when she meant them. "Speaking of the kids…" a pathetic clear of her throat, buying herself some time. "I hope that Max was okay after you took him home. I'm…" Swallowing and taking a deep breath, as though she was signing her life away, "I'm…sorry that I upset him. I didn't mean to. A shitty excuse, I know, but I wasn't thinking about him."

"You were thinking about yourself," Brandi said bluntly, which at first surprised her because she didn't think the younger should be fishing for an argument, given the circumstances.

But, when she digested Brandi's words a little more thoroughly, she realized they had not been uttered with disregard or contempt, but with truth. Yes, Mary had been thinking about herself – her dilemma, her fear, her family; that was the way it should've been, though it shouldn't have been at Max's expense.

"Well…it wasn't all about me…" Mary stammered as a weak defense. "And, I wasn't mad at you guys, not really. I was pissed at Mark. But, when am I not pissed at Mark these days?"

"You think you can get over it?"

This seemed a strange response and Mary quirked an eyebrow to show her confusion. It was too early and her brain was too fried to put together any mixed messages from Brandi.

"Why would you ask me that?"

Peter's wife didn't waste time, "Because he's here."

In spite of her fatigue, Mary could still widen her eyes, "He's here?"

"Yeah. Parking my car."

"What the hell?!" she hissed, doing her best not to wake Marshall, but it wasn't easy; she registered, however, that even as she fumed that her anger didn't have the same spark as it had in the wee hours of the morning. "Why would you let him come back here when you saw how upset I got?"

"Because he wanted to, and it isn't my job to tell him no…"

"So, I suppose I'll have to take care of that?"

"Mary…"

"We are not going to be comrades in arms just because he's Norah's father!"

"Will you hush?" it was a great irony that Brandi was the one schooling her in keeping her hysteria under control. With a well-timed glance over her shoulder, she elaborated, "You're going to wake Marshall."

There was no denying the truth of this matter, and so Mary gave her a filthy look, but closed her mouth. It was all she could do not to explode again, but the same kind of fight didn't live in her right now. Still, the thought of going head-to-head with Mark again was draining enough on its own. What the pair of them had been thinking, she couldn't imagine.

"Why does he want to be here so badly anyway?" the inspector requested quietly. "Can't he take a hint?"

Brandi ignored the second portion, choosing instead to focus on the first, "He likes you. Beats me as to why, but he does." And, before Mary could pounce on the insult, "And, he has so much going for him right now – he should be able to celebrate. But, he doesn't have any support."

"I'm supposed to give him support when my kid is twisting and writhing in pain because they're sticking needles in her arm?"

"No…" Brandi emphasized pointedly through somewhat clenched teeth. "But, maybe he thinks if he supports you, you'll return the favor one day."

It was such decent thing to do, if it was the truth. So decent, in fact, that Mary couldn't picture herself doing the same thing. Was Mark really putting himself in the line of fire at every turn in hopes of scrabbling together an acquaintance – and in Mary, of all people? They'd become close enough over the years, what with Norah to bond them, but she really didn't know how she would describe her ex to someone if they were to ask.

On a whim, she might say they were friends, but more likely she would say he was her child's dad and leave it at that – no thrills, no frills, just the facts, ma'am. Why would he make such an effort when she refused to do the same? Brandi's explanation certainly seemed like a good one.

"Mary, he is a good guy…" the littler insisted, head cocked to one side, her blue eyes pleading. "And he loves you. He loves Norah. He even loves Alice, which is why he must've showed up here tonight…"

"He's made things pretty damn difficult lately," Mary hung onto her thread, gripping tightly for as long as she could.

"Do you really expect him not to move on with his life?" it was like she was Mark himself talking to Norah about how the days trundled on; changes were to be anticipated. "Don't you want him to be happy?"

"I want Norah to be happy."

Brandi sighed, "We all do. But, I think you two being happy – not just separately, but with each other – would go a long way toward achieving that."

It was hard to think of anything to say to this that she hadn't already uttered, so she settled for looking moody, all the while wondering if she could escape to the bathroom to change and not come out until Mark gave up and went home. But, as Marshall would say, you couldn't avoid forever, and Mary knew as well as anyone that having things continue the way they were created a bad situation for everyone.

"I'll talk to him, since I obviously can't get rid of him, but I'm not promising anything," she sanctioned with a pointed finger. "I do have something more significant on my mind. Forgive me if some sort of exoneration of Mark is not my first priority," slipping in some sarcasm, just for good measure.

Luckily, Brandi smirked and stood up, knowing that this was the best she could expect from Mary.

"I don't know what's keeping him, but he should be up soon…"

"I'm not going to lie in wait for him. Do you think I have plans to orchestrate some sit-down discussion?"

"No," Brandi stated. "You're the one who said you're just gonna talk, which I'm sure he'd prefer to having his head blown off the second he walks through the door."

Mary narrowed her eyebrows, "Don't push it." And then, "Make yourself useful, why don't you? They have coffee around here somewhere?"

"Probably…" she younger Shannon looked over her shoulder, as though hoping to see a sign pointing her in the right direction. "You want me to go get you some?"

"Really quick on the uptake, aren't you?"

As she backed up, nearly tripping over the end of the couch on the way, she waggled her fingers as though all of this was a fun little game, irking Mary further, but she said nothing.

"I'll get you something to eat too."

"Just go."

Brandi knew an exit cue when she heard one, even if she didn't always abide by the command. This time, however, she did, although not without that silly little smirk on her face. Maybe it was the idea of Mary turning back into her old, cantankerous self that was causing her such joy, because it surely couldn't be for any other reason. Besides, irritable and cynical was one thing – cruel was another, something Mary would have to be careful not to tote out when Mark finally strolled onto the floor.

To pass the time and not look like she was on pins and needles waiting for his arrival, she took up the sack Brandi had brought for her and ambled along to the bathroom to put something clean on. She hoped Marshall wouldn't come to in the process and wonder what had become of her. It was highly likely he would think something was wrong with Alice if he woke up to an empty waiting room, and so she tried to be quick, even if that meant facing Mark sooner.

Brandi had brought her an old long-sleeved shirt in a shade of dark green and a pair of jeans that likely had not been washed for awhile. While they didn't smell, they were fairly wrinkled and sagging at the back so that she was constantly hitching them up. Apparently, her little sister had dug through the floor of her closet rather than search dresser drawers where more pristine clothes might be.

Still, it was better than nothing, and after refolding Marshall's outfit for him to put on later, she exited the restroom to find that she had been gone just long enough. Mark was there, shuffling around with his hands in his pockets and stealing covert glances to the slumbering Marshall, as if wondering if Mary had gone off and left him to fend for himself.

Mark first heard her making her way across the floor, the old tennis shoes Brandi had brought her making a squeaking sound on the linoleum. He turned, somewhat expectant, but whatever anticipation he felt vanished almost at once to make room for anxiety. The tangled hair, worn lines, and sleep-dusted eyes in Mary's face didn't indicate she would be in a much better mood than she'd been in earlier.

But, if for no other reason than that she didn't want to hash anything out over a long period of time, she was determined to play nice. Be a good sport and get it over with.

"Hi," Mark started simple, but did not step toward her.

"Hello."

Next, he went with something easy, "How's Alice doing?"

"She's good," she reported, not meaning to sound quite as stiff as she did. "Surgery in a few hours."

"Ah."

Here, Mary folded her arms over her chest as though to protect herself from something, but Mark was not the volatile one in their relationship. Perhaps she felt she had something to defend, be it her past actions or future ones she was likely going to engage in. She wasn't the best at being able to predict how she was going to react; she jumped in first and asked questions or backtracked later.

"Where's Norah?" she ventured, hoping she had not tagged along.

"At home. Getting ready for school, I hope."

"By herself?"

"No," Mark refuted with a hint of disdain. "Jill's there."

As far as Mary was concerned, this wasn't much better than her daughter being left to fend for herself, but she didn't say so. If she wanted to get through this with as little bloodshed as possible and move on, she was going to have to keep her opinions to herself.

"How'd that go over?"

"She'll survive," Mark replied curtly. "I said I'd come down and get an update on Alice. I might be able to call Jill so she has something to tell Norah before she heads to class."

"Mmm hmm…" the woman hummed. "Well, you can tell her she's fine. If you need to go to work I can let you know when the operation is over and you can fill Norah in again – or, I can."

This was a sneaky invitation, a way of indicating that she wished he would go to the office and wait for news, even if she didn't say it so explicitly. When Mark didn't respond, merely nodded, Mary had the feeling he had understood the implication just as she'd meant it. Sighing, she knew they could not stand around awkwardly forever – it wasn't even like them. As Marshall had said, duking it out tended to be everyone's method of communication. Hers with her ex was really no different.

"You want to sit for a minute?" she couldn't believe she was asking him, but she gestured toward an empty couch against the wall against her better judgment. "Marshall's practically comatose, so…" by this, she supposed she meant they would not be interrupted.

"I guess so…"

Looking as reluctant as Mary did, he followed her across the room and they both settled themselves next to one another, but with considerable distance. With a basis she couldn't explain, this made Mary feel odd. While she was the one contributing to most of this discomfort, it suddenly felt strange to be so cut off from Mark.

When Norah had been younger, they'd touched all the time – or, as much as Mary touched anyone. It used to be that he couldn't leave her house without pecking her on the cheek and giving her a boyish wave. He would call her 'kid' and look at her with his big, brown eyes, either elated because she was in good spirits, or concerned when she was down in the dumps. Recalling all the times that she had-had a problem – when she'd been at odds with Marshall, when Norah had been troubling her for any number of reasons, after Brandi had given birth to Robyn and she'd come apart at the seams – all Mark wanted to do was help her.

Now, she thought of all the issues he had-had as of late, and how little assistance she'd given him. It was always the bare minimum, and he was always put second next to Norah. In some ways, that was to be expected, but given their daughter's behavior recently, it stood to reason she could side with her ex on occasion. But, she never did.

Part of Mary regretted all this. Part of her was selfish and wanted to keep being so. For once, she told the latter to shut up and opted to be the bigger person.

"I haven't been very fair to you lately."

Whatever Mark had been prepared for, it wasn't this, and understandably so. You had to fight with Mary to get what you wanted. But, even as his eyebrows arched and his neck craned backward, he didn't miss the opportunity to work some disapproval in.

"You got the memo, huh?"

Mary bit her tongue in trying to gulp down a retort. He was infuriating sometimes, but she knew she'd been pretty enraging earlier. She supposed he was entitled to still be miffed.

"I deserve that," she admitted. "Although, don't go spreading that around."

"Your secret's safe with me," he mocked.

"Look, Mark, I…" exhaling slowly, she found her face in her hands, staring at the inside of her palms, running from her fiends as usual. Facing the lights once more, but staring straight ahead instead of at him, "I really don't know what's wrong with me. I want to be better for you. I do. But, I open my mouth and something different always comes out…"

It wasn't much of an excuse, and she knew she really shouldn't be making any, but it was the best she could come up with. In her mind, she rallied around Mark, granting him his happiness and his openness toward transforming into such a responsible man, though he had been that for many years. And yet, whenever she tried to act on that loyalty, it never worked.

"Well, I'm almost afraid to ask this…" he began in a resigned sort of way. "But, what is it about my life that pisses you off to the point where you don't even want me around? I mean, I get that tonight was different; it was a crisis, and I should've listened even if I was only trying to help…"

"I'm sorry about that," Mary interjected. "The way I reacted was ridiculous. Taking a leaf out of Norah's book with that one."

"Well, I wasn't that stellar myself," he shrugged. "But, I wouldn't mind an answer to that question."

Talk about putting someone on the spot, especially when Mary's mind was full to the brim with thoughts of Alice and how she was going to fare once she had to go under the knife. But, there was nothing she could do for her little girl at this point except wait, and she might as well spend the time doing something constructive – at least until Marshall woke up and she could have a good reason to ditch Mark in favor of her husband.

But, in attempting to imagine what about Mark had her so disgruntled, she had a tough time pinning down anything concrete. Everything she came up with was so minor in the grand scheme of things. She should be a good enough person – a good enough friend – to let them go. It saddened her slightly that she wasn't so heroic.

"I don't know…" she started out playing ignorant, shaking her head and causing her matted hair to swirl around her face. "I guess part of me is jealous – jealous that you can separate everything into different compartments. You can find a way to be content in your life with Jill and this rug-rat that's going to come along without letting Norah ruin it."

"Not that she hasn't tried…"

"But, that's not what I mean," Mary insisted, understanding it a little more clearly herself now. "You have this section of your life where you're happy, regardless of what Norah thinks. And then you have this other section where your worry about her lives, but you somehow you're able to keep them from merging…" It was muddled and disjointed, but she was just glad to be able to see more plainly, "I really don't know how to do that."

The questions weren't over, "What do you mean?"

"The way she's been these last couple of years has consumed my life," the woman admitted with wild abandon, unable to help speculating how Marshall would react if he'd heard such a thing. "I feel like I don't go a second without thinking about where she's going to end up or if she's even going to be okay. And, look at you…" she even scanned him up and down, as though considering him from all angles. "Since she started middle school, you've managed to find a girl and buy a house and experience fatherhood all over again."

"Is that really a good thing?" he sounded doubtful, leaning his chin in his hand in a melancholy sort of way. "To me, it seems pretty egotistical that I can breeze through life while my kid is such a mess. Isn't that why you've really been mad at me?"

"Maybe a little…" Mary wouldn't commit completely, however. "But, that doesn't make it right. Being responsible for your own happiness doesn't render you incapable of caring about Norah. If I've ever made you feel like you're not enough for her…"

"Ah, only about a dozen times or so," he winked to show he was joking.

"I apologize," she finished. "But, again, don't go spreading that around. You're a great dad and I'm sure you'll make one when you get geared up for round two in a few months."

"Well, you're a good mom," it was obvious he felt freer to reciprocate now that she'd paid him a compliment. "Seems kind of weird that we're both decent parents, but we haven't been able to work together on this."

"Change is really a bitch for me, Mark…" the blonde might as well have out with all of it if she was going to do this; she hoped she could count on her ex not to hold her vulnerabilities against her. "I mean, when you compare my life to yours – I've been in the same place for almost seven years, since Alice was born."

"You say that like it's a negative thing," he offered shrewdly. "I think, a long time ago, you discovered what's fulfilling for you and you've made your home with it. What's wrong with that?"

For the first time in several minutes, Mary took a moment to process what he had said. She had never prided herself on her ability to accept alterations; she ran from any kind of revolution like she was being chased by a rabid dog. It was the seven-year-old that still percolated in her soul, the one who had-had her world rocked to its core by a father that had bolted and never looked back. Since that day, she'd fought changes tooth and nail, even putting the greatest life she could hope for in jeopardy because of it – during the days when she'd refused to marry Marshall.

But, now, when she was securely in a rut, she began to wonder if it was a groove she wanted or needed to crawl her way out of. Mark's statement held a lot of merit. Finally, after so many years of discord and uncertainty with her given family, she had formed a circle of her own. And she was sticking to it. Maybe she still wished Jinx could be a part of it, maybe she had a daughter that was caught between two universes at constant, but anymore it was her normal. A little bit of mayhem was a trade off for the refuge being part of a team gave her. A team that was made up of her husband, her children, Stan, and many others in-between.

When Mary didn't speak right away, Mark must've thought he needed to elaborate.

"I'm the late bloomer here, kid…" it was heartening to hear the aged moniker resurface. "Hell, Norah was right – I could be a grandpa and I'm going to have an infant again. But, this is the hand I was dealt. I might be a little late to the game, but I don't want to sit on the sidelines anymore…"

"You shouldn't have to," she whispered somberly, folding her hands prayerfully. "My stupid misgivings or about what it's going to mean for Norah shouldn't stand in the way."

"Well, I don't want you to think I'm not considering Norah," he amended seriously. "It's killing me that she's having such a hard time with this. But, all I can do is keep trying…"

"You think we can start trying as a unit? You know, like we used to?"

Her brain conjured up an image of old at that minute, looping in her mind like a roll of jittery filmstrip. She saw herself, chubby and swollen, snuggled together with her ex-husband, commiserating over the temporary loss of their child, holed up and sequestered from the rest of their tight-knit community. It felt like it had been decades ago and, Mary realized with a start, that it very nearly had been.

When Norah had run away in an attempt to patch up her crumbling family, Mary had sparred with Mark – badly, to the point where he'd driven her to tears. But, he'd taken his lumps and owned up to his mistakes, just as she was doing now. And then, they had banded together, held hands and recognized how unique their connection really was. Marshall and Brandi, Jill and Stan and Lia, all of them adored Norah, but they were not her parents. Nobody took that title away from the people who were, and as she had lain with her head on Mark's chest, trying not to picture their worst fears coming true, she knew if they could get through that, they could get through anything.

Mark, she could see, was coming to terms with it as well, but not without making a few ground rules.

"You think you can cut Jill some slack?"

Mary chewed her lip, "Alice will teach me to," she claimed. "Or, Marshall will."

"Because, you're not the only one who worked her ass off for a stable family, Mare," he continued. "She wants that too. But, she needs you to let her in."

"I'll work on it," she said. "Make some wiggle room. You know."

Mark gave her a half-smile at her agreement, an agreement that was so like Mary – not willing to lay everything on the line and make promises, but to go about the deed in a round-about way. She wouldn't sacrifice her dignity for anything, but she wouldn't be Mary if she were any different.

"Are you really half as bad as you pretend to be?"

The inquiry was rhetorical, and Mary knew it; she could tell by the way Mark was grinning. But, she had an image to uphold, and with everything else in her existence going haywire, she liked to have one solid to cling to. Not counting Marshall, forever her safe harbor in even the worst of storms.

"You bet I am. But, take heart…" she slapped his shoulder and produced a smirk to match his. "If Jill gets on my good side, I'll protect her to the bitter end just like I do everyone else. Blast the threats on their asses with two rounds from my glock. I hope you're looking forward to that day."

"Oh…" he said with a pleasant laugh. "I sure am."

XXX

A/N: I figure they could start to pass into calmer waters. Hopefully, that is a good thing!