A/N: Someone suggested that I write it from another point of view, and I couldn't get the idea out of my head. This isn't as much Stan's thoughts as just another view to the story, so you can see what happened outside Marshall's head and get a better grasp on the time. I was writing out the lyrics to Take Back the City and Disaster Button before I wrote this portion. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the following characters, as they belong to the USA Network. I do not own the name Glock, nor do I own a Glock. I do not own the US Marshals Service. No copyright infringement intended.


Stan understood why Marshall was as upset as he was. He'd known how he felt about his partner for quite some time- it was one of those things you knew, but didn't know how you knew it.

He was pretty sure he'd never seen a guy cry when his partner was shot, best friend or not. Even Raphael wasn't crying. Still, he respected both men- Marshall cared so much about Mary and so little about his own image, while Raphael held it together and put on a brave face for Jinx and Brandi.

So now he found himself comforting not only Mary's family and fiancé, but her partner as well. They were much closer than just partners, though, they were best friends. For this reason, Stan had found himself in this position before- after the disastrous Horst incident, when Marshall was shot, was one time that stuck out in his memory.

After a while, Marshall started pace restlessly, running his hands through his hair in agitation and worry. Stan watched him, counting- one "lap" was when Marshall got back to the wall on Stan's right, where he'd started. There were silent tears running down his face, and Brandi got up to comfort him, but Stan grabbed her wrist.

"He just needs space. Don't worry, he'll be fine." Or at least, Stan certainly hoped he would be.

Marshall had made three hundred seventy-two laps of the waiting room when Stan's phone rang. Three of the other four people in the room looked up at him, even Raph, who seemed to have woken up at the sound, but Marshall didn't seem to notice at all.

"Stan."

"It's Bobby D. We've got a lead on the shooter."

"I'll be right there."

He told the others and stood up to leave, knowing Marshall would want to go and catch the bastard who shot Mary, but he wasn't going to let him. So he wasn't at all surprised when Marshall stopped him on his way to the door- or at least, that's what he thought, until he realized Marshall had kept walking, not even noticing that he'd walked into anything, let alone a person. Stan watched the others give Marshall worried looked, said "Call me if there's news," and left.

A few hours later, sitting in a chair next to Bobby D's desk at the Albuquerque Police station, Stan was startled out of his thoughts- was no news good news?- by the phone in his pocket. The caller ID told him it was Jinx Shannon. His pulse skyrocketed and he could feel his heart thumping wildly inside his ribcage. What had happened?

Jinx tried to tell him something, but her voice wasn't steady and Stan thought she might be crying. Yeah, it was bad. Stan tried to accept the fact that his inspector had died- why else would her mother sound so upset?

After several minutes, Raph's voice sounded in his ear, telling him that Marshal had left, without warning, over an hour ago, hadn't come back, and wasn't answering his cell phone.

Bobby D. was watching him. When he snapped his phone shut, the homicide detective was quick to ask if Mary was okay.

"It's Marshall. He walked out an hour ago and won't answer his cell."

Bobby didn't waste any time. Luckily, Marshall's phone had a GPS chip in it, so it wasn't hard to find him from a desk in the middle of a police station. Soon they were in Stan's SUV, driving back to the hospital with a map in each man's mind.

Stan tried to get someone to stay so they'd know how Mary was doing, but they were all concerned about Marshall and looking for some form of distraction.

He hadn't noticed going into the hospital, as he'd been facing the other way, but Marshall's GMC was parked at the other end of the lot. He tapped Bobby D. on the shoulder and pointed to it, knowing he'd recognize it. The cop let out a low whistle.

"Damn, you marshals- or the young ones, anyway- must be in damn good shape to run nearly six miles in an hour and a half with all that on your mind. If I were Marshall, I'm not sure I would have moved until Mary was awake."

Stan ignored the gentle jab. "Maybe he was trying to run away," he said softly, closing Jinx's door and climbing into the SUV.

Oh no. No. No. It couldn't be. That wasn't him. No. It wasn't, it couldn't be.

It was. That hair was unmistakable, that jacket the same as always.

Thank god. He didn't, he's moving.

Stan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, and heard the rest of the car's occupants do the same. As they got closer, Stan recognized the way his marshal was moving- he was crying. Jinx was out of the car almost before they'd stopped, running towards Marshall- she liked him, he was polite and funny, not to mention her daughter's best and only friend. She sat him up and held him, crying into his shoulder. Stan, rubbing circles on his inspector's back, heard her saying his name over and over, but Marshall himself seemed oblivious. The others were talking quietly behind him, but he didn't seem to notice them, either.

It was then Stan noticed the gun next to his foot. It was Marshall's; he didn't need to see the empty holster on his belt to know that. Had he really tried to kill himself?

After nearly ten or fifteen minutes, Marshall's sobs subsided and he stopped shaking. Bobby D. extended a hand to help Stan up and Raph helped Jinx to her feet and back to the car before the three men lifted Marshall up. The tried talking to him, but they could tell he couldn't hear them.

Marshall's knees buckled- he couldn't support his own weight, so Bobby D. and Raph did instead. Seeing the now-empty holster at Marshall's waist, Stan took it and added it to his own belt, putting Marshall's gun in it.

He wasn't sure if what happened next was good or bad.

Marshall's eyes locked on Stan, and all Chief saw was fury. "Give it back," Marshall spat. He was visibly shaking with his overwhelming anger. "It's mine." He ripped away from Bobby D. and Raph easily, perhaps more easily than he would normally have done, and stalked closer to Stan, who took an instinctive step back.

"Marshall, you know I can't give it back to you."

"It's mine." This time, Stan saw, there was no anger, none at all. He still refused to turn the Glock and almost punched Marshall when he lunged for the gun, before remembering that he wasn't in his right mind and catching him instead. Still, Marshall kept at it until, suddenly, all the fight seemed to abandon him, and he muttered, "I promised" before falling to his knees. Everyone moved forward to help, even Jinx, who'd been watching from the open car door, but he didn't seem to notice the sickening crack everyone else had, and he didn't fall over. "I promised…" he repeated, then fell silent.

Several minutes passed, then Brandi broke the silence. "It is possible to run away from your thoughts?"

Stan looked down on his inspector. "Marshall did."