A/N: The story continues. I hope you like the next part. Have you guessed who the Spirit of Christmas Present is going to be? What did you think about the casting of the Spirit of Christmas Past? Any thoughts about the one yet to come? Hit that big button at the bottom and let me know. Merry Christmas to everyone since it's now officially that day here in the South. I hope Santa was good to you.

Remember
This December,
That love weighs more than gold!
~Josephine Dodge Daskam Bacon

Mary froze when the lights went out, panting and clinging to the fire extinguisher. If all the office lights were out, the backup lights should still come on. What was going on here? Even in the case of total electrical failure in the building, there should still be some ambient light from outside filtering in. She could see nothing. Total blackness as complete as blindness enveloped her, and she fought panic for endless moments.

Suddenly, from inside the conference room, a tiny flickering light became visible. It was as if a match had been struck, that brief, that trembling and weak a light. At first it was so faint that Mary was uncertain whether or not it was real or only the product of her wishful imagination. As it grew stronger, she began to be able to make out the outline of furniture and walls in the office. After a few minutes, the light was a golden blaze that illuminated everything as if it were a bright, brilliantly sunny day. Mary, still holding the fire extinguisher, made her way cautiously toward the door of the conference room and peered around the edge.

What fresh hell is this?

The conference table in front of her was laden with pastries. Mary could see at least five different kinds of donuts in addition to bear claws, cinnamon rolls, tiger tails, apple fritters, danishes, and even....were those eclair? Down the center of the table, coffee pots of varying sizes and styles sat with delicious little puffs of steam from their spouts. Mary's stomach rumbled, reminding her that she'd skipped lunch today because she hadn't felt like eating due to her stress over Marshall's party.

I feel like eating now.... Wonder if this little buffet is open for all-comers or if this is an invitation-only sort of deal?

Mary looked around, and seeing no one, slid into the room, sat the fire extinguisher down, and took a wary step toward the table. When no traps sprang and no alarms went off, she reached down and picked up one of the eclair. She looked around again. Nobody came running from the other room. Nobody sprang out from under the table. Grinning, Mary bit into the eclair.

Just as she did, from somewhere deep within the foundations of the building there was the sound of a great clock chiming. Its bell tolled heavily, deep and sonorous, once, twice, three times.....

What is that? Where is it coming from? We don't have anything anywhere in Albuquerque that sounds anything even close to that....

It continued to ring, and Mary stood listening, contemplating with rising unease, still holding the eclair halfway to her mouth. It had now rung six times, now seven....

Wait. What was it Eps said? The first will come at the stroke of eight, the second at the stroke of nine?

The great voice of the bell rang out twice more and its ninth and final reverberation hung in the air for much longer than it seemed possible that it should. Mary turned to look at the elevator doors expectantly, waiting for whatever would happen next.

Come on, come on... she thought... bring it. I'm ready for you this time. You're not going to sneak up on me like you did before.

There was a delicate clearing of the throat behind her, and she jumped, almost dropping the eclair. She spun around and looked at the head of the conference table. Impossibly, for nobody could have entered the room without her knowing it, there sat Dr. Shelley Finkle.

---

Shelley was dressed in a green twinset. Her long brown hair was done up in an elaborate twist, and sprigs of holly had been tucked into it. A huge kitschy Christmas pin with rhinestones was affixed to the sweater of the twinset. She was sipping something frothy from a red and green mug around which both hands were tightly wrapped. She was watching Mary with some amusement.

Mary felt an immediate need to slap her.

"Hi, Mary. Why don't you have a seat and finish that eclair? We have a little bit of time before we have to go, and there is all this to enjoy...."

Mary remained standing, eyes narrowed.

"Shelley, what the hell are you doing here?"

Shelley simply reached out for another mug. Her hand hovered over one shaped like Santa's head, but then she smiled, shook her head, and picked up a plain dark green one instead. She took a large silver coffeepot from the selection on the table and poured a stream of hot liquid into the chosen mug. She lifted it and held it out to Mary, eyebrow raised.

Mary could smell the aroma of the coffee, and it smelled better than any coffee had a right to smell. Her stomach clamored loudly, and she looked down at the partially-eaten eclair still in her hand.

Shit. Well, since I'm here and all...I guess I might as well...

Mary walked over, took the mug from Shelley, pulled out a chair, and sat down. Shelley smiled a pleased smile and lifted her own beverage again before carefully choosing a cruller from the mountain of pastries before them.

"Now. What was your question again?"

Mary took a bite and asked again. "What is this crap, Shelley? Why are you here? What is all this food doing here? Not that I'm complaining. About the food, that is."

Shelley laughed. "That was actually several questions, I think, but I will try to answer what I can. I think you were already told you'd have three visitors tonight. Well, I'm the second one. As for why I'm here, well...that's a bit more complicated." She paused and looked at Mary's cup as if something had just occurred to her. "Oh Mary, what a terrible hostess I am! Did you want cream? Sugar?"

Mary gritted her teeth, force politeness. "No. Just answers. Could I get some of those, maybe?"

Shelley smiled again, cheery, unflappable. "Surely. Well. Let's see. Back to your questions. Oh yes. The food. This food is here because it's part of the bounty of Christmas. And that's what I'm here to show you, Mary. I'm the Spirit of Christmas Present."

"You mean as in the things we get? Because my wish list this year was pretty slim, I have to tell you Shelley...."

Again, that silvery laughter. "I mean the joys of this season in the here and now. All the good things you're missing out on during this year. That's what I'm here to show you tonight."

Mary snorted. "Yeah. Good luck with that, Shelley."

Shelley looked at her over the rim of her coffee cup. "You're convinced there is nothing good to be had at Christmas, right? No possible redeeming thing out there for you in this season?"

Mary leaned on her elbows, plucked up a tiger tail, began to unbraid it and eat it. "Nope. I know it for a gospel fact. It's a crass, commercial, selfish endeavor full of people trying to get crap out of each other. If there ever was any other meaning to it, it's been sucked away by mass marketing and credit card companies Nobody cares about anybody but him or herself anymore." She finished the last bite and swallowed down the last of the coffee in the mug. It was really good coffee....

Shelley was unfazed. She finished her own beverage and snack and dusted her hands lightly. "Well, if you're refreshed, then, I think we'll get going." She rose and swept a long, old-fashioned green cloak around her shoulders.

"Shelley, there's not a place in the world you could take me where you can change my mind about this. You need to give it up, okay?"

Shelley just smiled that smile Mary had become familiar with when she had been required to go to psych eval after the shooting, and Mary knew that further resistance would be a pointless exercise. Dr. Finkle could be every bit as stubborn as Mary Shannon when it came right down to it. The two women rose and headed for the elevator.

---

Inside, Shelley pressed a button on the elevator controls and turned to face Mary. Mary realized the elevator was playing muzak again. This time the tune was, "Holly Jolly Christmas." Mary sighed. She did really, really so very, very much hate muzak....

She waited for Shelley to start a conversation, but she seemed content to wait for the elevator to arrive at its destination. Mary had the odd feeling that the elevator was sliding sideways for some reason even though that shouldn't be possible, and when she had finally decided that she was going to ask Shelley about it, the motion stopped and the doors opened.

As before, the scene outside was not the parking garage. Surprise, surprise, thought Mary. Wonder which part of freakin' Wonderland the Red Queen has brought me to this time....

Mary glanced out the doors briefly and then back to Shelley. Guess I really have to call her the Green Queen, don't I? Still silent, Shelley gestured grandly for Mary to exit first. Mary rolled her eyes and stepped out into a place she was so familiar with it made her grin with relief.

She was standing in Marshall Mann's driveway. The oddness of a pair of metal elevator doors hanging in space there did not disconcert her in the least. She was at Marshall's and everything was going to be okay now. He would know what to do about Eps and Shelley, about the damn muzak-playing elevator from hell, about Kitty and Squish and the bikes that were not, about everything. If she could just see Marshall, it would all be good. She took a long stride forward, booted foot crunching on the gravel as she headed for the door.

Shelley caught her arm, and Mary shot her a look that was venomous. Do not impede my progress to my partner. Shelley's calm expression did not change. "Look. You need to know the rules. They won't be able to see us. You can see them and hear them, but that's all. For tonight, you're a ghost. You can't speak to them. You can't touch them. You're here to observe. Got it?"

Mary's mouth twisted into a cynical smile. "Observation is your specialty, isn't it, Shelley? Yeah. I've got it." Her heart sank a little. She headed to the door and tried to open it, but her hand simply passed through the knob. She cursed in frustration, tried again, clawing uselessly at it. Shelley glided past her and gave her a long look before merely walking through the door as if it weren't even there.

Oh yeah. I get it now. Oops.

Moments later, Mary, too, was on the other side of the door in Marshall's living room. Just the sight of his shelves and shelves of books and odd knickknacks made her heart feel better. She'd been over since he had put up his tree, but she hadn't seen the house since he'd gotten it ready for the party. Christmas was everywhere. He had decorated here with as much gusto as he had used at the office, possibly even more.

Because here, Mary the Grinch isn't around to say anything about it...

Music was blasting from his stereo, an eclectic mix of Christmas albums from artists as diverse as Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong to Elvis to Phil Spector's Christmas collection. The small house was full of guests eating, drinking, talking, and generally relaxing. She looked around for Marshall, but she didn't see him. She floated around until she spotted Stan and Eleanor sitting very cozily on Marshall's loveseat. She drifted over to listen in for a minute.

Because how many chances do I have to spy on the boss and...HER? she thought with a smirk.

Their conversation was very serious, and they leaning in to speak quietly to one another.

"...but she should be here. It's clearly killing him that she's not. Would it have killed her to show up for ...I don't know...ten minutes?"

Stan rubbed the back of his neck. "I know you don't know Mary very well yet, but trust me, if she could have been here tonight, she would have. She wouldn't have done this to him if there was a way around it for her. She has...levels of tolerance, I guess you could say. For whatever reason, this was beyond hers." He took a big sip of the drink in his hand.

Eleanor's brow was wrinkled. "It's just a damn party, Stan. Come on. He would take a bullet for her. Now he's in the back somewhere and he can't even have fun because she's not here. I hate seeing him like this. I'm going to go call her."

Stan grabbed her hand, pulled her back down. "You are not. We are not going to get involved in...whatever it is that they have going...or don't. Do you hear me? It's their business. Trust me when I tell you this."

Eleanor sighed and laced her fingers together with Stan's. "Okay. I guess. But I don't like to see both of them hurting at Christmas. It seems more wrong that usual..."

Stan squeezed her hand gently. "Maybe there will be some kind of miracle, then. We can hope for it, right?"

Mary drifted away from the conversation feeling confused. Is it weird that they're sitting there talking about us? It feels a little weird. That they're worried about us. And wait. What the hell is it they think I have going with Marshall? Do they think we're more than partners? Does he? Have we been acting that way? And why is he so upset? I told him I wouldn't be coming tonight. He's got a whole houseful of people here. Surely he doesn't need me.

She moved through the rooms looking for him. She found him in the room he'd converted into an office/library/den sitting in his favorite big reading chair peeling the label off a bottle of beer. The room was dark except for the light of one of his lava lamps. There was a knock at the door, and it opened to reveal a the head of a guy she didn't know.

"Man, you coming back in here? Folks are starting to wonder where the hell you went."

Marshall looked up and sighed. "Yeah, John. I'll be back in there. I had to make a call, and then I just...needed a minute."

The guy, John, pushed the door shut again. "What happened to our madcap merry host? You were full of reindeer poop when we showed up...."

"It's nothing. Just a little case of 'Blue Christmas' I guess."

John groaned, and Mary seconded him. "Man, do not quote Elvis titles to me. You are not worthy. Seriously, Marshall. You've done a total 180 here. What happened?"

"It's stupid."

John sat down. "It's about her, then."

Marshall grinned that crooked, self-depreciating grin Mary knew so well. "I'm that easy-to-read, then, am I?"

"Only to somebody who's known you for as long as I have. What now?"

"I thought she was coming tonight. She told me she wasn't, but still..."

"I'm sorry, Marshall. I don't know that much about her, but I know you wanted her here. Something came up then?"

Marshall turned the bottle over in his hands, focused his gaze on the place where the label had been. "Apparently."

John studied him briefly, then slapped his thighs. "Well, you know what? Her freakin' loss, man. Get your ass up from there and quit feeling sorry for yourself. You have a house full of people who expect your particular brand of festive geekery, and most of the rest of us are all out."

Marshall's lips curved, and he nodded his head. "Yeah. I'll be there in just a minute. Okay?"

John stood and headed for the door. "Gonna hold you to that. If you're not out in five, I'm sending in Deborah....."

Marshall groaned and rolled his eyes. As soon as the door closed, he put down the bottle of beer, withdrew his cellphone, and opened it. Mary saw him hit speed dial 1, and he waited briefly for someone to answer. She saw the tension in his body as the phone rang and rang. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and she heard the tiny sound of a voice coming through the speaker of the phone. Finally he spoke.

"Mare, look. I don't know why you're not answering your phone. This is the third time I've called, and I don't want to be a nuisance, but I do need to know you're okay. Please just tag me back to let me know. It's okay if don't want to be over here tonight, but...just...look...." He sighed heavily. "Call me and let me know you're alive, alright? I'd hate to think you sustained a massive papercut and need medical attention." He hung up and closed the phone, stared at it as if the force of his will could make it ring, and then he sighed again and shoved it back in his pocket.

He's worried about me. I mean really, truly worried. Something warm and sweet fluttered around her heart. She ruthlessly supressed it, as she did every time it tried to raise itself from the ashes there. I wonder why those calls aren't coming through? Apparently celluar service in the ether isn't too hot. Oh well. If I can ever get done with these damn ghosts, I'll call him.

He walked over to the big desk tucked under the window that faced into the small backyard. He pulled open one of the drawers, and he took out a small wrapped package. He turned it around in his hands for a moment, looking at it, lost in thought. Mary walked over to get a closer look at it, and she saw a gift tag on it that clearly said, even in the dim illumination provided by the lava lamp, "Mary." Oh hell. And I haven't gotten him anything. Oh shit...shit...SHIT.... He knows we don't do gifts!

He slipped the package back in the drawer and pushed it firmly shut. He leaned on the desk for a moment staring out at the moonlit yard, and she heard him murmur, "Come on, Mare. Just call me back. That's all I'm asking...." And he pushed off the desktop and headed for the door to rejoin the party in the rest of the house.

Mary drifted after him. As he crossed the living room, Mary watched him interact with other people. Shelley appeared at her shoulder.

"Learn anything interesting?" She was holding a small paper plate full of party foods. Mary narrowed her eyes.

"Where did that come from? I thought you said we can't interact with the party at all?"

Shelly smiled coyly. "No. What I think I said is that you can't touch them. You can't interact with them. I didn't say anything at all about me."

Yeah. She really didn't like Shelley very much.

"So. Back to my original question. Did you find out anything interesting?"

"I don't know. My hunger is clouding my mind."

Shelley sighed and shoved the plate toward Mary. Mary snagged two tiny sandwiches and started munching, continuing to let her eyes follow Marshall as he moved around talking to this group and that. She noticed that several of the women in the room were trailing him with their eyes. One of them, a redhead in a very small dress, had maneuvered him into a corner near the kitchen and was now leaning up to whisper something in his ear. Mary's fingers tightened on the tiny sandwich.

"Mary...."

"What? Oh yeah. I learned that this is a complete fucking waste of my time. And that those little sandwiches just make me even hungrier." The redhead had her hand on Marshall's chest, ostensibly placed there in a little patting motion while she laughed. She's gonna lose that hand if she doesn't get it off him....

Shelley watched her carefully. "And is that all?" Marshall was leaning back against the wall now, and the redhead was sidling closer, that hand of hers drifting up toward his shoulder. He was grinning, seeming to enjoy it. What the hell, Marshall? Is this what you spend your spare time on? I didn't know you had a thing for cheap and tacky, not to mention colors not found in nature...

As the redhead finally made her real play and stepped up close enough to press her body against Marshall's, Mary felt her blood boiling. If she were really there, she'd grab that faux redheaded tart and give her a new hairdo. Suddenly, Marshall made a neat sidestep, and he was away from her. The redhead pouted and looked after him, but Marshall would not be tempted back to her. He moved instead to another group where his friend John stood.

"Deborah almost got you that time, Marshall. I saw it. She almost had you pinned. We were putting down money on it."

Marshall laughed. "And was I getting good odds?"

John looked at him over his glasses. "I have to be honest, man. No. No, you were not."

Marshall sighed. "Oh well. Sorry to whoever lost." The rest of the group broke up muttering goodnaturedly, leaving only John and Marshall standing there.

"Tell me you didn't bet against me, John."

"Oh hell no. But you have to remember than I have inside information."

Marshall grinned. "And what is that?"

"I happen to know you're already gone over somebody else and therefore worthless as a man to all other women. But I thoughtlessly, selfishly, and ruthlessly kept that piece of trivia to myself tonight."

"And you cleaned up."

"I did. I made a whole $5 with it."

Marshall laughed and slapped his friend on the back. "You'd better be glad I'm not in any way connected with vice, John...."

They walked away, and Mary leaned against the nearby wall. Her heart was pounding. Was this true? And if it was, what should she do about it? What did it mean?

---

They stayed at the party for just a little while longer, and Mary watched Marshall with his friends. Some of these people are really neat. I wouldn't mind knowing them. They're interesting to talk to, funny, intelligent. Especially John. I like the way he is taking care of Marshall because he knows he's not feeling well.

A spear of guilt pierced her heart at that. Because he's not feeling well because of me. Because I hurt him by not coming tonight.

She looked around the room for Shelley irritably. She found her standing near the door.

"It's time, Mary. We have to get you back. I have other engagements tonight, and so do you."

Mary reluctantly looked around at the assembled party guests and walked toward the door. I don't want to go. I wish...I wish... I wish I'd just agreed to come. I think I would have enjoyed this, after all. I don't know what I thought it would be, but this, this I would have liked.... Marshall was right. She sighed, looked at him one last time, and stepped through the door. She crossed the yard and got back into the elevator. The doors slowly closed and Mary felt the elevator begin to rise.

Okay. Chapter 3 is done. R&R, please.