(I'm home, and this is why this will be the second update of tonight, I really enjoy writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I love posting, please comment )

"Ughhh…jeez."

"Wow."

"God, my head, what the hell did I do?"

"This is absolutely pathetic, I die, like four times, and you get all the attention because you conk out in the delivery room!"

"It was three, and I really don't appreciate-

His eyes shot open,

"MARY?"

"In the flesh, simmer down, you must have sprained your brain or something Marshall.." she swallowed through her quavering voice.

"I'm just so glad- he began,

"Marshall?" she interrupted.

"What?"

"I'm not pregnant anymore- her lip quivered- and no one has told me anything about the baby-

"I'll find someone." He rose slowly,

"Thank you…" Mary replied meekly.

"I'll do anything for you Mare, why don't you try and rest, kay?"

"I can't, Marshall I had a baby today and I don't even know if I need pink or blue clothes." She tried to joke, but her voice was hoarse, and tears had begun to fall.

He walked over,

"Don't be upset, I'm sure everything is fine, don't cry, you've been through a lot today, close your eyes and I'll go find your baby." He soothed, stroking her chin, while she grimaced. He started making his way to the door, but she stopped him,

"Marshall?"

"Yes?" He turned back around to make eye contact.

"Our baby."

"What?'

"You're going to find our baby." She corrected.

"Yes Mary, I'm going to find our baby." He smiled, but as he closed the door, he nearly crumpled back down to the floor as he flashed back to just a few hours ago, watching the nurses scoop up the still child and taking him or her away. He recalled the way they handled the baby, carefully, but for the life of him he couldn't remember how big he or she was or if they had been breathing or not. All of the important details were missing in his head, but the images of Mary lying mostly lifeless on the O.R table for the moments before he passed out were still vivid in his mind. He shook them away, and walked toward the nurses' station,

"My child was born about three hours ago, and my fiancée had to be rushed to delivery and she started hemorrhaging and I would sure like to assume that that's the only reason we haven't been updated." Marshall could barely think, and the fact that he could form full, grammatically correct English sentences was enough for him at that moment.

"I'll just look it up, what's the name?"

"Mary Shannon."

She typed and typed and then typed some more and just when Marshall knew Mary would have clocked her, she stopped.

"Are you the father?" she asked flatly, barely making it a question.

"Yes, I am." Marshall responded without breaking. It felt like his baby. He felt like Mary's child's dad.

"If you'll follow me?" she said waving her hand in the opposite direction.

"Sure thing." He replied.

She led him through a hallway and then a waiting room; he looked around to be met by a face he hadn't exoected to see,

"Brandi?" he asked.

"Oh Marshall!" she came over and grabbed him in a hug.

"Brandi, where's Jinx, and Peter and everyone?"

"Mom's in the cafeteria and she's not too pleased with me, Mark is gone. I don't know where he went, but I had left and I went straight to Mary's and then he came storming in, grabbed his bag and left before I could even ask him what had happened. When Mary answered her cell phone I was afraid to tell her I hadn't exactly run away- anyway, is everything all right?"

She asked.

"I think so, right now, Mary is up and stable."

"And the baby?"

"That's where I'm trying to get right now, and I don't wanna be rude Brandi, but I wanna get there without Jinx hounding me okay?"

"No, really go! But come back! And tell us what happened, they won't let us see her."

"Can do!" he called back as he rushed off with the now impatient nurse.

"Right this way." He sighed in disdain when he realized they had passed the nursery, their hope for a healthy baby had been spat upon, now he could only hope that the child took after his or her mother, he only hoped he or she was as strong as Mary, he would even take hardheaded and stubborn if the baby would just have one ounce of Mary's strength in them. His steps became smaller as they got closer to the NICU, and his heart thumped with a sort of sadness he knew he wouldn't be shaking for a while.

She opened a door, talked to another nurse and began her trek back to the nurses' station,

"Now Sir, if you could put these things on you can see your baby." She smiled.

He wondered how she could possibly be smiling; he looked around through the glass at each tiny, little human, attached to tube after tube, and wire after wire. The monitors beeped simultaneously, but none were in sync, that room had the potential to drive Marshal Marshall Mann insane, but he took a deep breath and slid on yet another pair of scrubs. He felt guilty for seeing the baby before Mary, but he had to, he had to be able to look her in the eye and tell her she had a baby-not take a doctors word for it, she would never take a doctors word for it.

"Follow me." The nurse gestured, "Baby Shannon? Is that correct?"

"Umm yeah, that would be my child." He answered, giving the room a complete once over.

"Right here."

He looked down, and he felt his lip quiver, and tears spring to his eyes, a tiny, little baby lay in the incubator, tubes leading from its mouth to machines, wires connected to its chest.

"Congratulations, you have a son, when he was born he weighed four pounds, two ounces, and he was fifteen inches long."

"Hello baby boy." Marshall looked down at the little guy, he had most of Mary's features, it was funny, and he looked so much like her even though she hadn't wanted him, what a horrible thought.

"If you just slide your hands into here, you can hold him, but you have to be very gentle."

"I can?"

"Yes. It will be quite a bit of time before he can be moved…"

"When can Mary see him?" That was what he was really worried about.

"When she's healed." The woman answered.

"Ma'am, that won't be for quite a while yet, she's recovering from a placental rupture, which could take weeks."

"I'm sorry, the thing about premature babies is that they're unpredictable, you got lucky."

"Lucky? Do you go around telling mothers and fathers that just because your kid can't breathe on its own their lucky?" he replied in outrage.

"No sir."

Marshall slid his hands into the incubator and placed his gloved finger into the tiny palm of his son's hand,

"It's okay little guy, Daddy Marshall will make sure you get to meet your mommy soon… She's an amazing person, really she is…" He held him briefly, but fear stopped him from cuddling the baby any longer.

"Am I allowed to take one picture?"

"Just one, but from over here." The nurse pointed to a few inches away.

Marshall took out his flip phone and snapped a shot of the baby.

"Thank you. I should really be getting back." He said mechanically.

With that, he pried of the scrubs and threw them away, he really didn't want to leave, but he had to go see Mary.

It seemed like an eternity walking back to her room. He passed the waiting room, dodging Brandi and Jinx, they were the last people he wanted to see right now.

He entered the room,

"Ahem, Marshall?" Mary asked her eyes closed.

"Yeah it's me."

"Ohhh no."

"What?" he asked worriedly.

"You have that sound in your voice…"

"What sound?" he asked, wrinkling his brow.

"The 'I've got some bad news' sound."

"He's fine." He said softly.

"He?"

"Yeah, he, and he's beautiful, do you want to see him?"

"Haha, is he Marshal material?" she joked before she could see the picture.

"Not quite yet, but I think with a little work we can get him there." He flipped open his phone and stared at the picture, while slowly he made his way to Mary. Marshall held the flip phone in her view, and watched as her eyes glistened with more tears.

"He's so tiny… I didn't know babies could be that tiny."

"The nurse in the NICU said we were lucky." He tried to repeat the words as if they hadn't offended him the first time around.

"H-how how much does he weigh?"

"Four pounds two ounces, fifteen inches long."

"Wow…" she mumbled.

"What?"

"I made that?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah you did." He laughed.

"I didn't know the little parasite would be so cute." Mary admitted.

"Yeah, you might have to lay off on calling him a parasite, for like, I don't know, forever? Because I don't know about you, but I would like him not to need therapy by the age of seven." Marshall teased.

"Well I can't promise that."

"We've got one little problem." He added.

"Is everything okay?" she asked looking up from the picture suddenly.

"Yes Mary, he's fine for now, but he needs a name."

She cocked her head to one side, ran her fingers through her hair,

"Huh." She sighed.