Okay so this is my first In Plain Sight story in over a year and my first story involving either Mary and Marshall (the other one I wrote was about Eleanor) so I hope you keep that in mind as you read, but I did my very best to keep them in character. (And if Mary is out of character I am blaming it on her hormones and/or current state of emotional disarray). Anyway please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not know anyone involved.

Spoilers: Something A-mish

Note: This is set somewhere between Something A-mish and I'm a Liver not a Fighter.

"So what do you want to do tonight?" Marshall asked as he slid the key into the dead bolt on his front door.

"I don't know," Abigail replied leaning up against his back and wrapping her arms around him, "I was thinking maybe we put in one of those old Western movies and curl up on your couch."

"Which movie?" Marshall questioned, unlocking the doorknob.

"Doesn't matter to me," she told him as he pushed the door open. Together they stepped inside, and Abigail turned on the overhead lights with a flick of the switch. Then she turned back to Marshall, but he had been distracted by something else. It was only then that Abigail realized that a very familiar blonde was curled up on her boyfriend's couch. "Maybe I should go."

Marshall hesitated for a moment. He cared about Abigail and did not want to hurt her, but he also knew that Mary needed him right now. Abigail didn't. "I'll take a rain check on the movie," he told her and she smiled.

"Okay," she replied kissing him, "I'll see you later then." There was no jealousy in her tone because she had known from the start that Mary and Marshall were a package deal. When she had started dating Marshall, she had done so knowing perfectly well that she would never be the only woman, or even the most important woman, in his life, and she was okay with that.

Marshall waited until Abigail had closed the front door. Then he knelt down next to the couch. Gently he pushed the few locks of blonde hair that had fallen over Mary's face back behind her ear. She looked so beautiful and peaceful that he did not want to wake her up. So instead he sat down on the floor and watched her sleep, noting as he did so that there were tear tracks on her cheeks.

A few minutes later Mary's eyelids fluttered open, and she looked up at him. "Marshall," she whispered as if to make sure she was not hallucinating his presence.

"I'm right here," he assured her as she sat up. However she did respond because at that moment her hand flew to her mouth and she sprang to her feet taking off down the hall. Slightly surprised Marshall followed her down the hall, catching up to her just in time to watch her empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. Slowly he knelt down beside her and gently pushed her hair out of her face. She looked at him gratefully for a moment before another wave of nausea overwhelmed her.

Finally she down on the bathroom floor and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Can I have a drink of water?" she asked him a little weakly. He nodded and quickly filled on of the glasses on his bathroom counter for her. "I hate this," she told him after taking a couple of sips, "I feel sick all the time, I'm tired by the time I eat breakfast, which I usually throw up anyway, I have to pee every thirty minutes. All for some midget I never wanted."

Marshall looked at her completely lost for words. He wanted to say something that would make his partner feel at least some better, but he had not clue what that something might be. Finally he opted for a practical approach. "Why don't we go talk in the living room," he offered her, "you'll be more comfortable."

"I don't know," Mary said slowly, "I don't want to puke on your sofa."

"Don't worry about it," Marshall told her, trying to reassure her.

"Fine," she agreed with a shrug, "It's your sofa."

Slowly Marshall helped his partner to her feet, not missing her slightly sluggish motions or her hesitation. Then Mary flushed the toilet, and together they made their way back into the living room. She sank down on the couch, and he disappeared into the kitchen returning moments later with a ginger ale.

"Jesus, Marshall," she said looking at the can of soda slightly discussed, "Ginger ale? Really?"

"It will make you feel better," he told her as he sat down beside her, "drink it." Mary looked at him for a moment before taking a sip. "Any better?" he asked her after a few minutes.

"A little," she replied sounding slightly surprised, "How'd you know that?"

"Read it somewhere," Marshall said brushing off the question. He would never admit it to Mary, but the truth was as soon as he had found out that she was pregnant he had gone online and read everything he could about what expecting father's could to do help their wives. "Foods with authentic ginger root in them can help ease morning sickness."

"It's eleven o'clock PM, doofus," Mary pointed out as she took another sip of ginger ale, "It's not morning."

"Morning sickness is actually a misnomer," he told her, "it can happen anytime of day or night."

She looked at him for a long moment trying to decide how to deal that piece of information. "Okay, Pregnancy World Fact Book," she said clearly deciding to return to her normal snappy self, "If you know so much, then tell me how long I have to put up with this crap."

"It depends on the person," Marshall replied calmly. As much as he would have liked to used a more comforting tone, he knew Mary would not appreciate that so he kept his voice level and factual. "For some women it ends at about three months, others at about four, and for some it continues though the entire pregnancy, and it is typically worse during your first pregnancy."

Mary looked at him for several moments, and Marshall waited. He was expecting, almost hoping for, some snappy, sarcastic, angry remark. However when she finally did respond her voice sounded more desperate than anything else. "I should know that," she whispered, "but I don't know anything about…about…about any of this. I feel like some stupid teenage slut."

"Whoa," Marshall said putting his hand on her shoulders, "You are not a stupid teenage slut."

"No, you're right," Mary replied pulling back slightly, her voice rising steadily along with her hostility level, "At least a teenage slut won't be risking her career and the two best relationships she's ever had."

"Hey," he said quietly, taking both her hands in his, "Nothing is going to happen to your job. It will still be right where you left it when you get back from maternity leave. Stan's not going to fire you."

"You can't know that," she told him.

"Yes," he replied confidently, "I can. Stan cares about you. He's not going to fire you. I am also fairly certain that it is illegal to fire people for getting pregnant. However, if you wanted disregard all of that, no one is going to fire you because if they do they will have to find two new inspectors for the Albuquerque Witsec Office."

Mary looked at him slightly shocked. "You'd do that for me?" she asked him.

"Mary, I'd do anything for you," he replied honestly, "personally and professionally I'm with you all the way. I don't want you to ever doubt that."

"I don't," she told him as their eyes met, "I never have." She paused. "That's why I came here. I needed someone to talk to."

Marshall looked at his partner, trying desperately to understand what she was feeling deep inside. He knew how much it took for Mary to admit she needed another person. Even though he was her best friend, he did not think he had ever heard her confess to needing anyone. However he knew that had a lot to do with her childhood. Mary was raised in such a way that she had learned quickly in life not to rely on anyone but herself. He had always suspected that was one of the reasons she had gone into fugitive apprehension in the first place.

Of course then she had switched over to witness protection, which played to another part of her personality…or basic mentality…or something… She had this need to be needed. It was as if some part of her believed that if there was no one depending on her for their basic survival it would somehow decrease her personal value. He blamed both Jinx and Brandi, mostly Jinx though, for that one. After all, Mary had practically raised Brandi and taken care of Jinx since she was ten years old.

"I'm listening," he told her, remembering that he should probably respond to her statement.

"I know," she said sounding a little frustrated, "You're always listening to me. Even when I'm not talking, you seem to know exactly what I'm thinking, and I still treat you like shit."

"You do not," Marshall cut in. He was starting to get a little worried by Mary's sharing of emotion, not because he was scared by what she was saying but because he was shocked that she was saying it at all.

"We both know I do," Mary replied looking at him, and this time he did not contest her statement. "I've screwed that up just like I've screwed up everything else in my life. My mother and sister, who I was supposed to take care of, both have criminal records, and yet they have both managed to get their life together. On the other hand I am now carrying my ex-husband's child."

Marshall looked at his partner trying to figure out how he should begin his response. He could not quiet understand what her mindset was because it seemed to be something between her usually angry ranting and an emotional break down. Finally he decided one telling her the truth. "I don't know what to tell you, Mare," he said gently, "but I know that you'll get through this. We'll get though this."

Mary looked at Marshall for a few moments slightly taken aback by his simple statement, but she knew that he meant every word of it. He was the one person in the world who she could count on not to leave her. Suddenly that thought brought a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes and without warning she began to cry. Whether it was hormones or bottled up emotions from the past months she did not know, but she could not stem the flow of tears down her cheeks.

Marshall didn't even hesitate in pulling his partner into his arms, and she buried her face in the fabric of his shirt as she continued to sob. That was how they stayed for nearly a quarter of an hour: Mary shedding tears she had held back for years, and Marshall tracing comforting circles on her back as he held her.

After a while Mary quieted and Marshall realized that she had fallen asleep in his arms. Part of him wished that they could just stay there all night, but the other part knew that the next morning they would both regret sleeping on the couch. So he carefully lifted his partner's still unconscious form with him as he rose from the sofa. Then he slowly carried her to his bedroom where he laid her on his bed.

As he started to untie her shoes, he noticed for the first time that she was wearing a pair of his pajama bottoms and one of his old t-shirts. He smiled at that. She looked better in them then he ever did…she even looked better in them then Abigail did, but he quickly banished that thought from his mind. Finally when he was satisfied she would be comfortable, he pulled the blanket up to her chin and turn off the light.

"Stay," a voice whispered in the darkness, and Marshall, who was halfway to the door, turned around, "Please. I don't want to be alone."

Marshall hesitated for a second, but he knew he could not turn down that request. So he walked around to the other side of the bed, kicking off his shoes and tossing his jacket on the chair as he did so. Then he slipped under the covers next to his partner.

Immediately she moved over and curled up next to him. Without thinking Marshall reached out a put an arm around her body, and for several seconds he waited for her to pull away, but she didn't. So he relaxed and listened as Mary's breathing evened out as she fell deep into sleep.

Finally when he was sure she was asleep, Marshall leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Mary's temple. "It's all going to be okay," he whispered to her in the darkness, "I promise."

I think I like this story…I'm not quiet sure anymore because I worked on it for about a week and well…I don't know…anyway it doesn't matter what I think…I want to know what you think. Please review.