Let me just take a second to thank you all for the awesome reviews! Autumn Rayne, Abby and Liv Snigglebottom, jekkah, Whyte Board Maker, JMS529, JJ2008, and BrittanyLS, ya'll are all terrific! Loving the feedback! The song I used for this chapter is Good Charlotte's Hold On. It's a bit of a nail biter, so read on and enjoy!

Oh, and in case I forgot to mention, I am a HUGE shipper. And totally in love with Fred Weller (he wished me happy birthday this week on twitter. :D) So there will be romance. Now whether or not Marshall will survive is still a question... Bwhahahahaha.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

IPSIPSIPSIPS

Don't stop looking

You're one step closer

Don't stop searching

It's not over

-Good Charlotte, Hold On.

Stan awoke suddenly, his heart pounding and his mouth dry. As the memories of the morning's events poured over him, he looked around the hospital room, fully expecting to see Mary in her bed. Only she wasn't, and he groaned.

"Mary…"

Lurching to his feet, Stan looked at his watch. Eight p.m., roughly nine hours since the funeral that had ended in a hail of gunfire. He scrubbed at his face and glanced around. Mary's bloody clothes were gone as well. He turned around and hustled out of the room, fully expecting to find her down the hall.

He was right. In the waiting room closest to the O.R., he found Mary slumped over on a lumpy couch. Her face was pale and her hair was uncombed, but there was a fierce look in her eyes.

As soon as she saw him, she frowned. "I'm not leaving, Stan."

He sighed. "You should be in your room."

"Screw that." She motioned to her arm. "Barely a scratch. I'm not leaving until I can see Marshall."

Stan moved closer to her, one hand out. "Mary…"

"He stopped breathing, Stan!" she yelled, her proud shoulders slumping. "In the ambulance…he stopped breathing. I… I lost him…"

"Mary, honey…" Sitting down beside her, Stan reached out and wrapped his arm around her in an unusual display of fatherly affection. "It's Marshall. He's going to be fine."

"Four times." She finally looked at her boss. "He was shot four times, Stan. He's been in surgery for almost nine hours. And… it's my fault."

He swallowed hard. He'd known this was coming; Mary always felt responsible for Marshall, just as he felt responsible for her. She wasn't going to handle this well at all, knowing that he had taken those bullets to save her life.

Slumping back against the uncomfortable couch, Mary curled into herself. She needed Marshall with her to explain what was going on, why she was feeling this way. But more than anything, she needed to know he was going to be okay.

The door to the waiting room opened again, and Mary's heart sank at the sight of Marshall's family. His parents looked exhausted, and his brothers looked worried. Without thinking, she got to her feet. She had only ever met Seth, but she knew that Marshall adored his mother, and already Mary respected her. After all, she had given birth to Marshall.

Seth stepped toward her. "Mary. How is he?" He shook her hand, then Stan's.

"Still in surgery," Mary murmured.

Anna Mann walked around her husband and wrapped Mary in a hug. Marshall spoke so highly and often of her, she felt like she already knew the woman who had her son's back every day. She had come from a long line of law enforcement, and she had married a marshal. Her two older sons were also marshals, and she knew the importance of partners.

Mary initially tensed, but forced herself to relax. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Mann…"

"Mary, please. Call me Anna." The older woman pulled back and gently touched Mary's face. "I feel like I've known you for years."

The slightest of smiles touched Mary's mouth as Anna stepped back. She looked at Marshall's brothers. All three bore a striking resemblance, but the older two somehow looked harder, rougher. Marshall was far more gentle.

Anna noticed Mary's expression, and she motioned to her eldest sons. "Mary, these are Marshall's brothers, Christopher and Michael."

Michael, patron saint of cops, and Christopher, bearer of Christ. No wonder Marshall felt he had so much to live up to. Mary rubbed the back of her neck, but any response was cut off by the sudden appearance of a weary doctor in blue scrubs. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Family of Marshall Mann?"

Seth spoke up, his voice gravelly but demanding of respect. "That's us."

Mary felt Stan's hand on her arm as the doctor spoke, and her head spun. All she heard was I.C.U., possible infection, bullet fragmentation… The doctor's voice faded in and out, replaced by the sound of her own heart beating. Her eyes closed, and when she opened them again, Marshall's family was gone. She looked around, panicked.

Stan was still with her. "They went in to see Marshall," he explained at the look on her face.

"I have to see him."

"Mary…"

Without waiting, she left the enclosed space and headed down the hall. But before she reached the Intensive Care Unit, she found herself stumbling into the nearest bathroom and locking herself in a stall. She held back her hair as she hunched over the toilet and lost what little food was in her stomach.

She lost track of how long she was in there, but once she was finished, she staggered to the sink and splashed cold water onto her face. God, she looked like shit. She dried her face and hands, then continued toward the I.C.U.

By the time she got there, Marshall's family was huddled in the hall, speaking quietly with a nurse. Sucking in a breath, she went around them and reached for the handle of Marshall's door.

"Excuse me, Miss-"

Growling, Mary shoved her badge into the nurse's face. Then she walked into Marshall's room, not completely sure of what she would find, but knowing that she had to see her partner.

The first thing that hit her was the strong smell of antiseptic soap. There was a mixture of beeps and hisses that came from the machines surrounding the single bed in the room, and in the middle of it all was Marshall.

Her feet suddenly carried her forward, until she was standing directly beside him. He was lying on his back, but numerous pillows had been positioned beneath him to keep him comfortable. Mary hoped, for the medical staff's own sakes, that they were giving him enough morphine that he couldn't feel any of his injuries, or they would have to deal with her. A ventilator was breathing for him, and numerous tubes and wires ran in and out of his fragile body.

Fragile. That was one word she never would have used to describe Marshall. He was annoying, silly, brilliant, charming…but not fragile. He was Marshall.

Rage suddenly swelled up within her all over again. Whoever did this was going to pay with their blood. She would make sure of that.

"Marshall, you have to wake up," she whispered, slowly reaching up and ignoring the painful protest her injured shoulder gave her. Her fingers fumbled, but finally she removed the necklace she was wearing. Marshall had given it to her about six months after they became partners. She supposed it was when he realized that they were going to make it. She held up the medal and smiled. St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. It had been the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her, and she had responded with a pencil to his head. She smiled softly as she ran her thumb over the medal.

"Okay, Doofus. I'll make you a deal." Her voice dropped as she picked up his hand and tucked the medal into it. Then she gently closed his fingers around the necklace. "You focus on getting better, and I'll take out the son of a bitch who did this."

As she suspected, there was no response. And as much as she wanted to stay with him, she had a job to do. She had to hunt down and rip apart the mangy dog who had put her best friend in the hospital.

"I'll be back soon, Marshall. Promise." Knowing he would never remember it, she leaned over and kissed his forehead softly, brushing his damp hair away from his eyes. Then she turned around and left the I.C.U. room, her mouth set in a grim line of determination.

She had work to do.

Anna watched as Mary hurried out of Marshall's room, and she called out to her. But Mary didn't turn, or give any indication that she had heard.

Seth came up behind his wife and gently touched her arm. "Anna, why don't you go back in and sit with Marshall? I'll go get you something to eat."

She nodded, absently kissing her husband's cheek before she went into her youngest son's hospital room. The shock of seeing Marshall like that had quickly worn off. She had to be strong for her boy. He needed her to.

Sitting down beside Marshall's bed, she rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. "Hi, sweetheart," she whispered, watching his pale face. "I'm back. Your dad and your brothers are in the hall." She touched his cheek with her free hand. "Everything is going to be okay, Marshall."

The machinery in the room was unsettling to listen to, but she focused on the fact that they were helping her son stay alive. He needed them, so she couldn't resent them.

"I finally met your partner, Mary. You're right, she's a handful. But… she cares about you, Marshall. I could see it written all over her face." Her fingers caressed her son's temple. "She was a little rough, but she's worried about you. We all are."

His chest rose and fell in sync with the ventilator, and numbers lit up on screens.

Anna sighed.

"Stay with us, baby boy. Please."

Mary went straight back to the waiting room, where Stan was still standing and quietly speaking on his cell. As soon as he saw Mary, he closed the phone and put it away.

"How's he doing?"

"Not good, Stan." Mary picked up her abandoned jacket and pulled it on.

He watched her, worried. "Mary, where are you going?" He was right in assuming that she would never stay as a patient, but he didn't see her abandoning Marshall while he was in the I.C.U. and fighting for his life. Then again, he had learned long ago never to try and predict Mary.

"Out. Call me if Marshall's condition changes at all."

"Mary…"

She shoved a finger in his direction, her eyes aflame. "I have something that I have to take care of. Call me if anything happens with my partner," she growled, and Stan couldn't help noting the emphasis she put on those last two words.

They stared at each other for several moments before Mary finally stormed out of the waiting room.

"Be careful, Mary."

Since her car was still at the burial site, Mary flagged down a cab and directed the driver to the cemetery where the shooting had occurred. It was dark, and she shoved a wad of cash at the driver before she got out of the cab.

The area was cordoned off. Already she was running through a list in her mind of people who could have done this. She remembered almost everything now, and she had taken one bullet before Marshall got her out of the way, taking four bullets in the process. Four bullets that certainly would have killed her.

A tremor went through her shoulders. Damn you, Marshall… She swiped a shaky hand over her face before forcing herself to calm down. The shooter must have been aiming for her before Marshall put himself in the crossfire. Whoever did this wanted to take her out, and the list of potential suspects was endless.

Through the darkness, she could see the blood that stained the ground where they had stood. Marshall's blood… Her rage came rushing back again, and she swore. Suddenly unable to stand there any longer, she fled to her car and yanked the door open. Sliding into the driver's seat, she shoved the keys into the ignition and the engine roared to life.

Whoever did this was going to die.

By the time the sun was finally rising over the Albuquerque skyline, Mary was sitting at her desk, poring over a list of people she had put away, people who had threatened her, and a few who felt she had somehow wronged them. It was a long list, but she refused to rule anyone out until she checked alibis and whereabouts.

Just after ten, Stan walked in with two cups of coffee and a bag of donuts. He had fully expected to find Mary sitting at her desk, and he was right. He placed the bag and one of the coffees on Mary's desk. When she gave him a strange look, his expression became firm. "Eat, Mary."

Sighing, Mary opened the bag, retrieved a donut, and took an obligatory bite.

Nodding, Stan took a sip of his own coffee. "Have you found anything yet?"

"No. How is Marshall?" She knew he would have waited at the hospital.

Stan swallowed hard, the coffee suddenly bitter. "Not good, Mary. You should be at the hospital with him."

She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "His family is with him."

"Is that what this is? You think that because they're there, there's no room for you? Mary, he's your partner. No one is going to keep him from you."

Mary suddenly slammed her hands down on her desk, startling her boss. "I have to find this piss ant, Stan. And when I do, I'm going to rip his limbs off and watch him squirm." Not because he had hurt her, but because he had hurt her Marshall.

"Mary…"

"Save it, Stan. I have work to do." And with that, she grabbed a few files and stormed out of the room.

Unable to do anything but watch her go, Stan sighed.

This was not going to end well.

Mary spent the rest of the day busting down doors and making threats, but she gained no headway except being able to cross a few names off of her list. She wanted to go back to the hospital and check on Marshall, but the need to catch whoever put him in the hospital pressed heavily on her. So she continued to push herself harder and harder, as she always did.

Around midnight, she finally stumbled home for a shower and a little sleep, and by six a.m., she was back on the streets. She was going to find out who did this.

After talking to yet another dead end, Mary headed back to her car. Her phone suddenly vibrated against her hip, and she grabbed it. "Yeah?"

"Mary."

Stan sounded out of breath and frightened, and Mary's gut clenched.

"Stan? What's wrong?"

"There's been another shooting."

Her stomach dropped. "What?"

"Yeah. This time at a crime scene."

Crime scene…open area…swarming with cops… Shit. "What happened?"

"Five officers were hit. Two died at the scene, and another one barely made it to the hospital. The other two are going to be okay."

Mary leaned against her car and closed her eyes briefly. This wasn't an isolated incident. This was now a spree, and with the deaths of two officers, this rat was a cop killer. "Did anyone see him?"

"No. No one got a clear view."

"Shit." Mary scrubbed her hand over her face. "I'll be there in fifteen."

"Mary, maybe you should go to the hospital instead."

Her stomach dropped even further. Marshall…

"His parents called me just before the shooting. The doctors aren't sure he's going to make it."

"You don't know him, Stan." With that, she closed her phone and got into her car. But before she started the engine, she rested her head briefly against the steering wheel and closed her eyes.

Don't give up yet, Marshall.

Stan was at the site of the shooting when Mary pulled up, and he wondered how she knew where to go. More importantly, he wanted to know why she wasn't at the hospital. Marshall's parents had taken up a vigil with their wounded son, but he knew they would never refuse Mary access to her partner. Marshall came from a long line of law enforcement, and the word partner had extremely strong connotations for the Mann family.

Practically leaping out of her car, Mary stormed over to Stan. "What's the story?"

"Mary…"

"Just tell me, Stan."

Sighing, Stan motioned to a nearby building, where the shots were thought to have originated. "We think the shooter was there." He shifted and pointed to a body bag. "That was the vic. Rita Owen. She was found a couple of hours ago, gutted."

"Jesus…"

"The scene was being investigated when the mutt opened fire. Officer John Reese was killed instantly when one of the bullets struck his head. His partner, Lisa Franklin, tried to help, and she was hit in the back."

Mary's blood boiled as she imagined the scene. She saw Reese getting hit. Franklin probably knew he was gone, but she had risked her life anyway because there was a one in a million chance he was still alive, and that's what partners did. They put it all on the line for each other, every single day. Mary would have done the same exact thing for Marshall. She would do anything for him, anything in the entire world. She teased him mercilessly and purposefully made him crazy, but if anyone else tried it, she would tear their heads off, and do it with a smile.

"Mary."

Mary finally looked at Stan, her expression unreadable. "Yeah?"

"I said, there are some cameras around here. C.S.U. is going over the tapes on the off chance that our shooter is on one of them."

That was all he had to say, and Mary was gone again.

Much to Mary's chagrin, the shooter wasn't on the tapes. She swore repeatedly as she got into her car and slammed the door shut. No one could ever accuse her of being a patient woman, and several techs who were going over the tapes received the brunt of her aggression.

Pulling onto the highway, she pointed her car in the direction of the hospital where Marshall was. She needed a break and to see him, before she actually did hurt someone. Marshall was the only person she knew who could handle her at her worst, and now was no exception. Just the thought of him was causing her anger to ebb. She let out a slow breath, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she drove back to the hospital.

Within fifteen minutes, Mary was back at the hospital and on her way up to the I.C.U. She stopped for no one; her badge was visible on her hip and she knew that this hospital was known for bending rules for law enforcement. Finally she reached Marshall's room, and she was concerned when she saw his mother and father standing outside.

Anna saw Mary first. "Mary, honey, you're here."

Mary nodded. "What's going on?"

"They're taking him back into surgery. He started bleeding again," Seth explained, and Mary sucked in a hard breath. But before she could form a coherent reply, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket.

She issued Marshall's parents an apologetic look and turned away, answering the phone. "Yeah?"

"Mary? It's Vivian."

Vivian Callahan was one of Mary's more difficult witnesses. She followed most of the rules, but she had a way of pushing Mary's buttons to get what she wanted. Mary groaned internally. She didn't have the time for this.

"What is it, Viv? I'm busy." Normally she never would have said that to a witness, but right now Marshall needed her, and she couldn't handle a frustrating witness on top of that.

"I know. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can we meet?"

"Vivian, I don't have time for this. What is it?"

"Those shootings? I have information about them."

Mary closed her eyes briefly. "Stay at your place. I'll be there in ten." She closed the phone, then gave Marshall's parents an apologetic look.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to go."

Seth had a knowing look on his face. "You know something, don't you?"

"Maybe." She took a step back. "Tell Marshall I'll be back, okay?"

Anna nodded. "We will."

With that assurance, Mary turned around and left the hospital, breaking every speed limit on her way to Vivian's apartment.

A harsh chuckle reverberated in the dark motel room. Smoke hung thick in the air, and an ashtray on a nearby table was already filled.

Dominic turned on the T.V. and found a news channel, then turned up the volume.

"…two officers were killed in the attack, one more was grievously wounded…"

He laughed again, pressing his shot glass to his mouth. In front of him was a thick file, and clipped to the front of the file was a picture of Mary Shannon.

Emptying the glass, he set it on top of the file. Then he ran his finger lecherously over the picture.

"I'll be seeing you again real soon, Mary. Promise."

To Be Continued...

A/N: Once again, thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far! I'm glad that my first multi-chap fic is being so well-received. I finally figured out how to include the lyrics without smushing them into the story at the beginning, so I'm pleased. LOL. Thanks again, everyone, and please feel free to toss out any ideas or suggestions!