Author's Note: Special thanks to ladypuercoloco, JJ2008, JMS529, and Jayne Leigh for the reviews! That last one on the previous chapter just may turn into a longer fic. Sorry for the delay, but I got behind and then stumped on drabbles.

QUOTE PROMPT #046 – MARY/MARSHALL

"When I say, "I love you," it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are."

"Mary?" Marshall asked, groggily. He opened his eyes to see Mary hastily grabbing clothes from the floor. "Where are you going?"

"I have to get out of here," she replied, refusing to look at him. "Mark will be dropping Norah off soon and I have to be there."

Marshall say up in the bed, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs of sleep. "Mark's keeping Norah all weekend. You said so last night." He grabbed her arm and forced her to sit down. "Want to tell me what's really going on?"

Mary gently extricated her arm from him. "I'm sorry... about last night. I shouldn't have called you last night. I shouldn't have," she waved her hands between the two of them, "made this happen."

He frowned. "You didn't make this happen alone and I'm glad you called me."

"I messed everything up," she whispered, turning her head away from, "again."

"Mary." Marshall cupped her cheek to turn her face back t his. He used his other hand to grab one of hers. "What do you think you messed up?"

"You... and me... and us."

He laid a gentle kiss on her lips. "No. You haven't mess anything up."

Mary huffed. "You're engaged; I'm not suppose to be calling you for anything. How can you say that I haven't messed anything up? Marshall, we slept together!"

"Yeah, and it was the best night of my life," Marshall chuckled. He pulled her hands to his lips. "I'm not engaged anymore and you are suppose to call me anytime that you need me."

"You're not engaged?" she asked. Marshall shook his head. "And I didn't screw everything up?"

"I love you," he told her. "I have always loved you and will always love you."

Embarrassed, tears welled up in Mary's eyes. "I thought I lost my chance."

Marshall wiped her tears away. "Never."

QUOTE PROMPT #047 - ABIGAIL

"A mother's love is an unrivaled force of nature, and we can all learn much from the way she lived her life. Her death causes each of us to stop and take stock of our lives, to measure who we are, and what we've become"

She should have known when he got the phone call. They were sitting on the couch after dinner watching some documentary or another when the home phone rang. Indicating that it was from his parents' home, Marshall took the call in another room. Abigail could hear the formal tone in Marshall's voice, though she didn't hear the exact words.

When he re-entered the living room, his face was pale and his jaw was set. He told her the news in a solemn, straight-forward voice: his mother had had an aneurysm; there was nothing to be done; she was gone. Abigail felt tears in her own eyes, but saw none reflected in those of her husband.

He went through the motions of packing them and getting them back home to his parents' house. He helped plan the funeral, accepted food and inquiries from the neighbors, entertained his nieces and nephews, and kept watch on his dad. He didn't blink once. He didn't ask for her help on anything either, leaving Abigail to flit about aimlessly in the background.

By the time the funeral rolled around and he still hadn't cried, Abigail was nearly beside herself with worry. Marshall was not one to hold his emotions in. Lost in their own grief, however, the rest of Marshall's family appeared unconcerned. As the one closest to his mother, Marshall was given the duty of giving the eulogy for the family. He sailed through the first part, then stumbled.

And then stopped.

Abigail frowned as Marshall searched the crowd. She realized the moment he found who he was looking for by the profound relief that appeared on his face. He wasn't seeking her, his wife. No, there was only one person that every brought that light to his eyes, his former partner and best friend, Mary.

Marshall left the podium, rushing to the blond marshal. He pulled Mary into his arms and began to sob on her shoulder. Abigail shifted uncomfortably in her seat as a few curious glances were tossed her way. After a few minutes, Marshall straightened up and returned to the front, finishing his eulogy with Mary by his side.

Abigail slipped out of the wake without anyone's notice. She packed her bags and headed back to Albuquerque right away. She had her things packed and moved out before he returned home. The divorce was done quietly without contest. As much as it hurt at the time, Abigail had to admit a year later as she introduced her fiance to Mary and Marshall's new daughter, that everything worked out for the best.

QUOTE PROMPT #048 - MARY

"A dream is an answer to a question we haven't learned how to ask."

They came almost every night; dreams of a small boy with dark hair and blue eyes. At first, Mary thought they were a result of her father's death. The timing was right. But as her father's passing became more of a distant memory and the dreams never faded, she was forced to consider that the dreams were a manifestation of something else.

She brought the dreams up to her partner, Delia. Delia, while not as knowledgeable as her former partner, was eager to help. Delia told her to focus on what the boy was doing and the feelings that it provoked in Mary. Mary scoffed at this suggestion, though it remained in the back of her mind. But in the dreams, the boy did nothing but stare at her and she felt love, confusion, hope, and lose. Too many emotions to be of any sort.

It wasn't until the second engagement party for Marshall and Abigail that she realized what the dreams meant. Abigail's mother had blown up several pictures of the two to use as decorations. There, smack in the middle of Abigail on a tricycle and at her first cheerleading competition, was the five-year-old boy she had been dreaming of for all these months. Mary's gasp was loud enough to draw the attention of several nearby party-goers.

Marshall. She had been dreaming of Marshall. More importantly, she had been dreaming of her and Marshall's son. The truth came rushing at her like a freight train. She must have looked sick as Marshall hurried her into the master bathroom. Pressing a cold washcloth to the back of her neck, he asked her what was wrong.

Mary took a deep breath. "Do you believe that dreams can tell us something that we didn't realize ourselves?"

"I do," he agreed, confused as to how it related to her current predicament.

"I have to tell you about the dreams I've been having lately..."

"And that's why my middle name is Morpheus?" Five-year-old, Nicholas Morpheus Mann asked, grinning wide enough to show off his missing front teeth.

Mary sighed, brushing her son's dark hair from his forehead. She gazed into his blue eyes, the spitting image of his father's. "That and your daddy's warped sense of humor."