A/N: This is it, folks! The last long and lengthy chapter – not too lengthy, I hope! My sincere gratitude to all of you. I would not have been near as happy to post every night without each and every one of you.

XXX

Thursday, to Mary's intense relief, was the day her life finally shifted back into the realms of ordinary – as ordinary as it ever was in the Mann-Shannon household. Stan and Lia were back in Washington, Brandi and Peter at work, and her and Marshall likewise. The kids went to school, and Alice complained heartily, as she was often known to do. Mary spent the better part of an hour not thinking about Jinx. At first, she wondered if it was wrong, but then she realized it would probably happen more and more as time passed by. It was difficult to cope with, but she could say for certain there would be no forgetting her completely. She was Jinx – a character and a mother, through and through.

That night, Marshall was putting Alice to bed while Mary started the dishwasher before turning in herself. She thought she might relax in the bedroom or even read with Marshall before going to sleep. Norah was clearing her homework off the island while her mother clanked the plates and silverware. They'd been silent for several minutes; no need to speak just for the sake of saying something.

Until…

"I met Jill."

Mary actually felt the muscles in her shoulders tense, and was grateful her back was to Norah while she bent over the dishwasher. That way, she couldn't see her panic-stricken face; one that she definitely needed to pull down before standing up.

This wasn't unprecedented. Mark had warned it might be today or tomorrow, but since Norah hadn't said anything all night, Mary figured Friday was the day. It seemed that little ice cream run after school hadn't been just the two of them.

Slowly, Mary straightened and, still slower, rotated with her back against the cabinets to face Norah. She was shuffling her papers inside her backpack, but her eyes didn't leave Mary's. She tried to read the signals in their deep, infinite brown; like the hole you could lose yourself inside, but still have a soft landing when you hit the bottom.

Aloof, "Really?"

The darkness was uncertain and tentative. It reminded Mary of when her little girl had been just that – a little girl; full of nightmares, questions about her mother's social life, and worry that Marshall was leaving them. Despite their innocence in the moment, there was a maturity as well. She might be doubtful, but it was also easier to form her own opinion.

"What'd you think?" Mary prodded when the look was all she received.

Norah shrugged, which she found predictable. She zipped up her bag and set it on the stool before turning around completely, resting her elbows on the chair behind her.

"Did you know about her?" she asked. "Did you know dad had a girlfriend?"

"Not until the other night," Mary revealed in truth. "He mentioned he might have you meet her today, but I actually thought it might happen tomorrow, since you didn't mention it…" she raised her eyebrows.

Norah shook her head, "I didn't know what I was supposed to say."

"And since when do you have trouble talking to me?" Mary rebuffed swiftly, sticking a hand on her hip. "There are no secrets between us, Bug. What'd you think of her?"

Norah was well-adjusted in the ways of Mary's take charge attitude, and it seemed the woman had fooled her into thinking this really was no big deal. It was nice to know her poker face had returned. It could be useful on occasion, if not always advisable.

But, it seemed Mary wasn't going to get an answer right away. Norah left her school supplies at the island and stepped over to the sink where Mary was stationed. Her eyes were downcast now, and she twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. Mary was about to coax her on, when she just blurted out what she was obviously wondering.

"Do you want me to hate her?" the eyes flicked upward, and they were determined. "Because I will if you want me to."

Mary was unexpectedly touched by this weird brand of loyalty and her immediate thought was, 'Yeah, that'd be nice,' which she cursed herself for at once. She knew better. She had to be the mother here. One thing was obvious. If Norah was asking Mary's permission to hate her, she must not feel such animosity on her own. She must've liked her.

The elder shook her head, "No…" sweet and simple. "I want you to tell me how you feel. I'm a tough broad, Norah. I can take care of myself."

The familiarity of those words on her tongue was invigorating. She might be uncomfortable with this scenario, but being able to function on her own again was fantastic – saying that phrase that had been embedded within from the very beginning. Back to normal, indeed.

"I guess she was okay…" a sigh; conceding defeat. "But, she's not like Marshall. I never felt like he had to try to like me."

"She was probably nervous, love…" Mary patted her head. "She was probably afraid you wouldn't like her…" she'd promised Mark, and she was living up to it. "It'll get easier if she sticks around. How did she and dad look together?"

Fortunately, this brought a smirk to Norah's lips and she eased up, "That was pretty funny," she reported in a mocking tone. "He acted like an idiot in front of her – like the boys I go to school with. He must be crazy about her."

"Well, I kind of hope so…" Mary laughed, picturing Mark falling all over himself to please this woman. "Since he waited such a long time before you met her. It'll mean a lot to him if you give it a go, Bug," she didn't want to raise stipulations; it was simply a fact. "If you want, you can take Brandi or Robyn along next time; kind of break the ice. They're good at that, right?"

Norah smiled and nodded, knowing her aunt and cousin would be a great deflector for future meet-and-greets. But still, her daughter seemed unconvinced. She seemed to sense there was a certain someone being left out of this club on purpose. She was too smart not to realize.

"You mean…you wouldn't want to come?" the girl intoned in a low voice.

Mary sighed, knowing admitting this was going to be tough. She crossed her arms to avoid belittling Norah with babying gestures. She was grateful she had the cabinets to stand against – to stay upright.

"Jill is…kind of a 'dad' thing…" it was the best explanation she had. "I mean, I'll meet her at some point – give her the once over…" a brave attempt at teasing. "But, I don't need to be hanging around while you all make nice. You're growing up, Norah…" she emphasized. "Sometimes things change when you grow up. You can do this on your own."

While Mary did not like the idea of her child having a world that was separate from their own, it was quickly becoming a necessary evil. She thanked her lucky stars they had someone like Brandi or Robyn to bridge the gap on occasion, but she feared for the days of two camps – Mark, Joanna, and Jill in one with Mary, Marshall, and Alice in the other. The cousins and aunts mingling somewhere in-between.

"Did you ever have to do the two families thing?" Norah inquired upon understanding what her mother meant. "Since your parents were divorced."

It was a logical question, but Mary shook her head, "Not with my mom. She never really met another guy she fancied as much as my dad."

Although she rolled her eyes, it made her sad now.

"And, you know my dad wasn't around when I was a kid but it turned out he did have a second family," she revealed without thinking. "With three other kids in it that I didn't even know about – Scott and Lauren and another girl I never met," she flashed her a look of annoyance and admiration. "See how easy you have it, Bug?"

"So, wait…" Norah caught on quickly, pausing and looking cynical with her eyebrows hunched together. "You had another brother and sister out there – from your dad?"

A nod, "More or less. Wild stuff. My dad was never one for conventional."

It was odd to talk about him so freely, but she'd never wanted to put on a big show with James in front of Norah, despite what rattled around in her head.

Just to ease the little one's mind, "That isn't going to happen to you, Norah. You are all that Mark has," she promised. She put a hand on her shoulder, compressing, "And he loves you way more than any girl he'll ever met. I swear."

Norah didn't need reassurances on that, "He told me," she smirked. "I guess he thought I'd forget or something."

Mary had to laugh at the innocence of that statement. Even though Norah was ten, she still possessed some of the naive traits of a younger childhood; where you were convinced everybody adored you and that such a feeling would never change. It scared Mary that those days might be ending for her oldest daughter. At least she had Alice bringing up the rear on lives led on pure fantasies.

"How come you never told me you had other brothers and sisters?" now that the cat was out of the bag, it was clear Norah needed the more meaningful facets. "Where are they now?"

Of the two questions, Mary thought the second one was probably easier to answer, but that didn't make it painless by any means. As it was, there was no real reason she hadn't spoken about Lauren, Scott, and whoever the third Shannon-Griffin sibling was. Norah knew James could sometimes be off-limits, and that was that. But, with development came understanding; she suddenly realized.

"I only met Lauren once," Mary started with the simpler of the two tales. "And I didn't know we were related when she showed up. Jinx and Brandi knew, but they decided not to tell me."

Norah was fighting a laugh; Mary could see it twitching at the corners of her mouth.

"Really?" part of the chuckle snuck out anyway. "You scream at them when you found out the truth?"

"That isn't important…" her mother waved a disinterested hand. "She's living somewhere in Florida these days. I've talked to her a couple times, but we don't really keep in touch."

Fortunately, Norah didn't ask why that was the case – she could probably guess – and watched as Mary leaned one of her hands on the outer counter. It was a motion used to calm her nerves. These people weren't ones she was eager to discuss.

"So, you said you've never seen your other sister…" the girl recalled, grinning a little mischievously now. Mary wanted to tell her not to label them siblings, but thought better of it. "What about your brother?" she ventured. "Where's he?"

As Mary pondered the sudden sadness of the child's devious probing, she found herself shrinking a little further into the cabinets. It wasn't exactly her brightest side, but she hardly ever thought about Scott. He was a little bit of a touchy subject with Brandi and she wondered, vaguely, if Robyn and Max knew about him. Max possessed his name between first and last.

"Well…" she sighed, drumming her fingers now, contemplating if this would upset Norah at all. "He came along about…" she did the math quickly in her head. "I guess it was about two years before you were born. Brandi hunted him down."

She attempted not to say it with trepidation, and Norah urged her forward, "And?"

"And…" a shrug; an exhale. "They got along really well. He even lived here for awhile, but then he went home to Miami."

Mary had thought Norah might ask if she'd liked Scott, but she didn't. The mention of Florida a second time took her thoughts a different direction.

"So, he's there now? You don't see him either?"

It was stupid, really, for Mary to think Norah would be in any way affected by Scott's death. She'd never known him. They had little to no connection. It was more the way he'd bit the dust. It had been so senseless; the closest you could get to unnecessary. James' transgressions had been what had landed his son in such a mess.

"He actually died, Bug…" an attempt at being frank, almost without warning. "About ten years ago. Around the same time as my dad."

Almost the exact same time as her dad, more like.

Her daughter did seem a little surprised. She blinked with an air of incomprehension, brows creeping together with confusion.

"He died?" she questioned in a soft voice. "But, he's younger than you, isn't he?"

This was a smart kid. She'd figured out all her own that Mary, despite the extraneous children, had to be the oldest, followed by Brandi and the rest of the unknown brood. She knew just enough about James to put the pieces together.

"Yeah…" Mary was forced to agree. "It was…kind of an accident…"

Not really.

"When my dad showed up here when you were a baby, he kind of screwed things up for everybody," she was forced to admit. "Scott got caught in the crossfire. I actually thought he might; I offered to keep him safe, but he wouldn't let me."

Norah nodded, while Mary reevaluated the way she might have come across. She'd tried to be forthright without a lot of excess drama. They'd all had enough of that, after all. At the same time, she couldn't help mulling over Scott's existence a little more closely now that he'd come into play. Had he survived, he likely would've come to Jinx's funeral – for Brandi, if no one else. Then again, if he were still alive he might've been tagging along after the youngest Shannon for the past ten years. Norah would've known him as another uncle.

What ifs didn't help anything.

"Well, that's good you tried to help…" was Norah's diplomatic reaction to the turn of events. "But, it's really sad that he died. Brandi was probably upset."

"Mmm hmm…" Mary hummed, chewing on her thumbnail in her trademark nervous habit. "What do you say we get back to Jill, huh?" a bitter laugh. "My mixed-up family isn't anything you need to hear about right before bed."

"Well…" she turned back to the barstool, comfortable with Mary's request. "I guess that makes me mixed-up too, right?" a smirk.

"Touched in the head…" Mary leaned over and pressed her palm to Norah's forehead with just a slight push, and she staggered backward toward the island with a giggle. "We Shannon's know insanity, right?"

This was an excellent segue back into present day, reminding them both of the separation between Stuber and Shannon – between Shannon and Mann. Mark, Alice, step-fathers, and forgotten siblings; all of it had managed to meld the way Mary believed it was supposed to. She could only hope Jill added to the disorder rather than enhanced it.

"I'm going back to my room…" Norah announced, through with digging deep; the inner 'Mary' that lived in her soul cutting off the crap. "I told Alice I'd be there before she went to sleep."

Mary found that her fondness for this kid only grew with each passing second. She'd known what it was like to have an attention-seeking, younger, cuter, more dazzling baby sister. Norah dealt with it much better than Mary had.

"You've been real good to her this week…" she vocalized in recognition. "It's been a big help while I've been dealing with Jinx."

Norah pondered on the mention of her grandmother for a moment, blinking and seeming to fall back in memories of better days and simpler times, with her mother's recognition that she still lived in that world on occasion. It was hard to lose someone; whether you'd been thick as thieves or mere acquaintances. It was hard to admit that life still went on.

"It's gonna be really strange for awhile – without Jinx," Norah clarified as she picked up her backpack to tote it to the bedroom. "I bet this sounds weird, but I keep expecting her to stick her head through the front door. Since she never knocked."

Mary followed her through the kitchen and down the hall, unable to help herself from rumpling her gold streaks, which Norah didn't even seem to notice. Her and her mother might be two peas in a pod, but she'd never minded touch the same way that Mary did. It was one trait the parent was glad she had not adopted. They all needed some hand-holding once in awhile.

"It doesn't sound weird," Mary found herself agreeing almost against her will. "That was part of Jinx – assuming that if she came to call, everybody would want to see her. And knocking was a waste of time."

Norah laughed with ease, and Mary did the same. It took her a second to realize that it was the first time in weeks that she'd laughed because something was funny – not out of disdain, or out of sarcasm, or because she felt the need to impress. She'd actually been able to recall a mannerism of Jinx's that brought her joy, rather than sorrow or distress. She had Norah to thank for that.

"I will miss her…" the child concluded as they reached her door and she paused, backpack hanging off one shoulder. "Jinx, I mean."

"Yeah…" Mary nodded quietly, her eyes on Alice snuggling into her blankets on the top bunk; Marshall already gone. "We all will. Its how she would've expected it to be too."

With that, Norah resumed the ascent into her room, dropping the bag on the ground in whatever space was free. Mary could see through the slats on the upper loft that Alice wasn't asleep. She was peeking through the empty space, watching to see if anyone noticed she hadn't closed her eyes. While Norah went to the dresser to find pajamas, Mary strode to the opposite end of the room and climbed the ladder.

She felt decidedly foolish; she was nearly as long as the ladder itself and only had to step two rungs before she could lift herself the rest of the way. She sprawled on her belly, nearly crushing Alice, but she was obviously tickled by the turn of events and giggled.

"Mommy, what are you doing?" she shrieked with delight. "You're too tall to be up here!"

She was right, of course. If she weren't spread on her stomach, she'd have hit her head on the ceiling. As it was, her feet hung over the edge, but she was already close enough to peck Alice's cheek, and she didn't hesitate for a minute.

"I decided I couldn't turn in without saying goodnight," she proclaimed while Alice batted her eyelashes and blushed at all the affection. "Did daddy read your story?"

"Uh-huh…" Alice nodded, her brunette locks spread all over the pillow. "It was a good one too – Green Eggs and Ham."

"What a classic…" Mary mused. "Be a good girl in here, all right? You know I love you Little Bit." And then, "Just as much as daddy does."

She wasn't sure what made her say it. After all, it was really her that had the issues; the wondering about whether her adoration ran as deep for Norah as it did for Alice, even though she knew it to be true. She just remembered being worried that Jinx hadn't seen the good in her when she was younger, and didn't want Alice to feel the same way.

"I love you too, mommy…" her baby sang as the mattress below made a thump, meaning Norah had gotten under the covers. "I hope you're not still really sad about Jinx. Daddy's been trying to make you feel happy again."

Mary again had to contemplate what sort of ideas Marshall had filled these girls' heads with, but she supposed it worked no matter what. They were healthy and satisfied and had two parents that loved them – and even more than that, in Norah's case.

"I guess I'm still a little blue…" Mary admitted, smoothing the ringlets across the pillow. "But, I'll get there someday."

Alice probably didn't understand what that meant, but she harbored it regardless and snuggled further into her blankets. Mary laid one last kiss on her forehead before she backed down the ladder, extremely careful not to miss a step and land collapsing backward on the carpet.

Once she reached the bottom, she gave Norah a brief farewell for the road.

"Night Bug…" she kissed her hair, suddenly recalling, as though from a past life, the days when this had just been her room.

And then the days before that, when it had been a nursery. Further back still, when she'd classified it a 'junk room' for items that had no place to call home. And finally, at its origin, a guest room for Scott, Brandi, and Jinx in their rockiest days.

How far they'd come.

"Night mom…" her daughter reciprocated, not knowing what was ruminating in her brain. "Love you."

"Me too…"

Mary made her way to the door to flick out the light and when she did, it left the room swept in darkness. You could only make out the shapes of the dresser and bunk beds, and if you looked very closely, the image of two chests rising and falling with serene breaths of life. Mary heard the rustling of Alice getting situated on top, and Norah rolling over on her side. They were quiet and content. They were good girls, no matter how much sparring might intervene.

Mary was so busy basking in their worth that she almost didn't hear Norah whisper through the gloom; the door was half-shut.

"Mom?"

A creak to reopen; a head through the frame.

"Yeah?"

She had elbowed up, her matted hair shaken down her back. Mary could see, even through the shadows, that her eyes were wide and she was resolute. She had to get it out.

"I might not hate her…but she'll never be as awesome as you."

Jill.

Mary emitted a soft chuckle, shaking her head. Only her ten-year-old would say such a thing. And she'd probably regret it one day. But, in the here and now, it was the most thoughtful gift she could ask for.

"Thanks Bug…" was all she said. "Goodnight."

Even as she shut the door, however, she found herself sticking around, hand curled around the knob. Norah's words played over and over in her brain as she listened through the wood, curious to see what the girls did once a parent left the room.

It was silent at first; nothing to glean whatsoever. Mary almost chastised herself for thinking she could hoard anything more in terms of sweetness and unbridled sincerity. Marshall was waiting, after all.

But then…

"Norah?"

"What?"

"Are you asleep?"

"What do you think?"

Mary grinned, shaking her head at the pair of them. Alice's voice was hesitant, not wanting to rile big sister. Norah's was deliberately annoyed, knowing if she didn't put on a little bit of frustration she would never get rid of Alice.

"I just wanted to ask you something," Alice persisted, trying to sound innocent.

"Hurry up," Norah's tone altered from aggravated to obliging, despite the word choice.

Alice abided, "Do you think mommy's still sad?" she rattled off quickly, and Mary heard the covers rustle again. "I tried to ask, but she didn't really tell me…"

Mary's heart dipped a little, feeling badly she hadn't recognized her daughter's query, but she ignored the shame to listen to Norah's response.

"She's better…" the older of the two swore. "I promise. Go to sleep."

"Yeah…" Alice disregarded the curt afterthought, and despite the shortness of reassurance, it was clear that was all she needed. She needed someone older, more experienced, and more intelligent then she was to help her figure everything out. "She's lucky she's so brave. She's not afraid of anything."

The feeling of adoration only increased for Mary, having little to no idea that Alice had felt so strongly about such things. It did her heart good, after so many worries concerning her and her youngest daughter's relationship. It appeared Alice's rationale was enough for Norah too, because they put an end to the conversation.

"Yup…" the blonde proclaimed. "That's mom. Now, go to sleep," she repeated.

"Okay…" Alice was quick to agree this time. "Night-night Norah. I love you."

Mary very nearly swooned with how quickly the reply came.

"I love you too, Alice."

Contemplating her children's fierce, undying devotion had a reluctant smile on Mary's face as she left the girls and went to join Marshall in the bedroom. When she opened the door, he was reading a book atop the covers, his ankles crossed. It reminded Mary of the time she'd walked in on him the night after Norah had gone missing; she'd had that same, lingering sense of peace then, just as she did now.

What made it different was the gift bag sitting in her usual place on the bed. She wished to be exasperated about his attempt to be 'sneaky' but thought better of it. The winning smile he sent her as he stretched changed her mind.

"Hello…" he waggled his fingers as he put his book down. "Girls all tucked-in tight?" he wanted to know.

Yet again, Mary was reminded of the evening they'd gotten Norah back, only he'd been referring to she and Robyn that time – Alice had just been a bulge in her belly.

"Down for the count," Mary reported, choosing not to reveal their exchange. And leaning against the back of the door, she pointed, "What is that supposed to be?" she crinkled her nose at the sight of the bag. "And why is it purple?"

Marshall gave a deceitful smirk, "Because of the two more feminine colors, I thought you would prefer purple to pink. Am I right?"

"And why did I need a bag with 'feminine' colors?" her fingers formed air quotes as she ventured over. "What's the occasion?"

She already knew, but she enjoyed the sort of games they played. Instead of merging on the bed right away, she went to the top drawer of the dresser and rooted absently inside.

"We delayed Valentine's Day last weekend…" he reminded her. "I feel it is time to commence with the lace and hearts before we reach March."

Mary stretched her hand way back in the drawer, groping with her fingers for the bag lying sideways.

"And what makes you think I have anything for you yet?" she tried to convince him, glad he couldn't see her expression. "I told you we couldn't do this until I did."

"Alice gave up the ghost," he announced without beating around the bush. "I managed to stop her before she actually told me what I was getting, but I know there is a present waiting in the wings. Why else would you be diving and fumbling amongst the delicates?" it was her underwear drawer, and she scoffed at the phrasing.

"I guess I'm not much for undisclosed information these days…" she admitted, hands crunching around the sack at last. "Better rethink that Marshal position."

She whirled around to face Marshall, dangling the bag on its two strings; a dainty, delicate size that couldn't possibly rival the medium one on the bed. Hers was a rich, deep crimson, and she hadn't gone out and bought it. She had unearthed it in the trappings of Brandi's gift-wrap drawer. One present was enough, right?

"But, you know I hate gushy couple moments, Poindexter…" she reminded him, and once she was close enough to the mattress, she threw him his present, which he easily caught.

She swept the second sack to the side so that it bumped into Marshall's outstretched legs and settled down, back against the headboard. She had to have known that wouldn't last though, and Marshall was quickly pulling her in at the neck, running his fingers through her wavy tresses. The kiss was humdrum at that point, but more in the predictable sense; it never lost its shine.

"Happy belated Valentine's to you…" he resonated sweetly once they were eye-to-eye once more; hers a serious jade, his a magical blue. "Better late than never."

"You know I would still pick 'never' if you let me…" Mary quipped with a tilt of her head, still feeling his long fingers on her collar. "It's a Hallmark holiday; for those retail hounds to cash out, one-by-one every February."

"Not entirely…" he interrupted with a pointed, bookish finger. "Saint Valentine was a real person. He was jailed for performing weddings for soldiers who would otherwise be forbidden to marry…"

"Here we go…" Mary muttered under her breath, shaking her head, but it did not deter Marshall.

"The more romantic portion of the holiday flourished out of Geoffrey Chaucer when the custom of courtship began to blossom," he finished proudly.

Mary was still wagging her head with a would-be-irritated smirk, but she couldn't take her eyes off him. There was something wonderfully common about this. Although the snippets of normalcy were few-and-far-between since Jinx, she couldn't deny she appreciated them more thoroughly than she ever had before. Marshall spouting off his wealth of intelligence was definitely among them.

"You must really think I'm feeling fit…" she remarked as she leaned her head on the pillow and stared up at him lounging above. "To start feeding me full of useless shit like that."

"A civic duty, I like to call it…" he inclined his head nobly.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that…" a snide comeback. "But, before we get started here I should mention – turns out Norah did see the great educator today."

"Ah…!" Marshall sat up a little higher, making him appear even taller. He, for one, seemed excited, "And, what is the consensus?"

Mary shrugged, knowing it was essential to share with Marshall, but not wanting to hash it out tonight. He would understand that. He wouldn't press the issue if she kept things succinct and brief.

"You know Norah…" she fell back on her daughter's heritage. "Most of the human race is at least, 'okay.' Jill got the same treatment, it would seem."

"Well, that's a good beginning…" Marshall decided. "A start."

"Yeah…" Mary whispered, unable to leave out the rest completely. "She made a point of telling me she doesn't think Jill rates anywhere near as high as you or me, though. Seems I picked a winner."

She poked him in the chest, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. Fortunately, he knew closure when he heard it. The compliment paid to the both of them was her way of indicating the matter closed. She was lucky – very lucky – to have found someone who knew her that well.

"Seems you did…" Marshall repeated, abiding to the unspoken shut-down at once. "Let's see what a winner I am when you open that gift."

As Mary laboriously retrieved the sack from between them, she couldn't help but marvel in what might actually be inside it. She was not the easiest person to shop for, and wasted no time reminding Marshall of this fact when he hounded her for ideas at Christmas. She had never been much for a lot of profuse and abundant packages with all the trimmings. Her liking to gifts was on the quiet side; mementos and treasures suited her just fine.

Pulling the tissue paper from within, she fished for some small talk so there would be no awkward silence.

"I'm not sure why I'm going first…" she noticed as Marshall watched her lovingly. "Since I'm not exactly the lady in this relationship."

She cast him her best conceited leer, wondering how he would take the back-handed insult, but as with so many other things that night, he was recognizing what it had taken them to get back in the swing of things. A breakdown, hearts laid bare, new people in their lives as well as old ones returning were only a few.

"If I were you, I'd be preparing yourself," was Marshall's lone response. "I think I outdid myself on the charms this year."

It wasn't like him to brag, but Mary had just stumbled upon her cache, and found there were not one, but two packages inside. The first one she pulled out was a plain black box covered in imitation leather; like an outdated jewelry chest. It fit in the palm of her hand, and looked well-worn. The second was something small and rectangular, nestled in folded cloth, perhaps so it wouldn't break.

"Marshall…" Mary turned suddenly solemn, not having expected a duet. "I only got you one thing. Why did you get me two?"

She didn't need to feel like she had short-changed him, especially when she considered what an enormous plus he had been in her life the past week – and always. He put up with her poor outlook, her snappish demeanor, her closing herself in and refusing to share when he'd desperately wanted her to. Then there were all the other things she'd inflicted upon him; the unwillingness to marry, for starters…

"I don't deserve two things…" the box went slack in her hand. "I don't even deserve one…"

"Now-now…" Marshall extended his palm to shut her up, speaking in soothing tones. "Don't say that," it wasn't an order, but it was close. "We are husband and wife. It is Valentine's Day. We vowed to go through thick and thin together, so do not act like our having a few rough patches means I should be banned from purchasing souvenirs."

It was a difficult line to argue with, but Mary still didn't feel right about it. Her doubts must've shown on her face, because Marshall hastened to accept any kind of reply.

"Look, I didn't even have to pay for this one…" he indicated the black carton. "It didn't cost me a penny, and I can't return it. So, we are even if you ask me."

Now Mary was curious. She was never one to lose her mind over presents, but the fact that he'd acquired something free of charge was piquing her interest. He wasn't the cheap one in their marriage.

"Open it…" he urged. "Come on."

Reluctantly, with one last suspicious search of her eyes, she pried the top of the box free, and quickly felt alarm, astonishment, and warmth spread through her chest all at once. It was a disorienting combination, especially once the heavy onslaught of emotion invaded as well. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Initially, she thought it might be new – a remake, a replica. But, the longer she stared, the more she realized it was hers; the dings in the metal had been there for a long time. There was no mistaking it.

Staring back at her from this miniature dome was her father's necklace. The Virgin Mary twinkled on its pedestal, even though most of the polish had faded in its many years. The medallion still seemed to shimmer, even at upwards of fifty years old. The dullness of the once miraculous and glistening yellow did not bother her in the least.

Flummoxed, she turned to Marshall, who had a soft, albeit anxious smile on his face. She just gazed, her mouth gaping as she shook her head and tried to form the words she wanted to get out.

"Where did you get this…?" a whisper, which sounded foggy and murky already. "It was evidence. The FBI wouldn't turn it loose; it's been in a Ziploc bag at headquarters for ten years…"

"I have been trying to get them to relinquish the thing forever…" Marshall explained, resting a gentle hand on her knee with a light squeeze. "And, with Stan in town this week, he was able to strong-arm some big wigs over there…" Mary didn't miss the sense of accomplishment that surged through his tone at this, even in her muddled existence. "James is long gone, and apparently most of his cronies are too. They conceded it was time to part with it. It's yours."

And he gestured at that little circle, as though to prove it. Mary was still bowled-over beyond belief. For one, she never thought she'd see the necklace again. For another, she was faintly embarrassed. Did it say something about her that she had been hankering for this tiny scrap of metal all along? It was the Jinx versus James guilt all over again.

"I'm…" she swallowed, trying to put some of this into a coherent thought. "I'm…"

He just waited patiently, silently holding out. His stunning blue eyes held every measure of compliance; they were so soft and so engaging; the way they pulled her inward and gave her hope. He just wanted her to be happy.

"Thank-you…Marshall," she finally croaked out. "I just…"

There was going to be a clarification of her feelings – of her craving – to come, but Marshall beat her to it. The hand on her knee moved upward and patted once, and then twice. With each new sentence that spilled forth, a steady thump came down on Mary's thigh; reinforcement that he spoke the truth.

"If you like it…" he whispered. "And if you want it, and if it makes you feel better, and if it makes you feel closer to him or to Jinx…" it was a lot of preamble, but Mary needed to hear it. "And if it gives you the strength to stand up like the heroine you are…"

An exaggeration, but Mary had to smile so the tears wouldn't fall.

"Then you should wear it," he ended evenly. "Don't worry about what it means or what somebody might think."

Mary wanted to tell him this was easier said than done, but came to find that the only opinion that mattered to her anyway was Marshall's. He obviously held no reservations about this, and so she knew she could be content with it as well.

"Did you get Norah that necklace on purpose?" she asked as he unchained the medallion from its post and undid the latches in back. "Were you trying to tell me something?"

"Yes and no…" Marshall stated honestly, reaching around her hair to place the jewel around her neck. "I really did not know at that point if I was going to be able to acquire this one or not…" he told his tale. "In any case, I wanted you to have something like it – something to remind you. Something to share with Norah."

Mary, strangely, liked the idea of her and Norah matching, even though twin necklaces weren't something she would've usually relished. In the present climate, with Mark and this Jill coming into the picture, it was nice to have that unspoken connection – that symbol her daughter was still a Shannon, through and through.

Marshall secured the hooks and let the gold swing down on Mary's chest; it's misplaced home for the last ten years. He nodded approvingly at his handiwork, glad not to have heard an objection to his stipulations on wearing it and wearing it with dignity. It was the piece of her past his wife needed to keep her in balance.

"I know you're still hung up on him, Mare…" he bounded on, another attempt to justify his motives. "Just, hung up on how you feel and whether you're supposed to feel that way or not – and Jinx's opinions on all of it…"

Mary nodded, fantasizing with the thought that Marshall was about to map out the rest of her life for her. He seemed to have everything figured out; an answer to all her problems.

"But, I think those letters in Jinx's desk prove she considered him a part of your lives too…" he said that to make her feel better, and she appreciated it. "She didn't throw them out, after all. She had to cling every now and then, and so do you. Every now and then is okay."

For the first time in a long while, Mary suddenly began to believe 'every now and then' really was 'okay.' It was acceptable; it was normal; it was part of who she was. And, according to Marshall, it was part of who Jinx had been too. She shouldn't have kept her fears from him for so long.

"Jinx used to say that when all the stars were lined up just right; when the planets were in motion; he could be the best husband and the best father anyone could ask for…" Mary shared; placing her hand on top of the one Marshall had left on her leg. "I'm pretty sure that was an 'every now and then' kind of thing, right?"

Marshall bobbed his head, "Exactly right," and turned his hand around so it could hold hers. "Remembering the good – few-and-far-between or not – is all any of us can do."

It was Mary's turn to nod, feeling liberated by the ease in the conversation, and Marshall had suddenly turned scheming once more. His 'Santa's coming down the chimney' look had returned, and Mary was quick to remember that she had another present to open.

"Speaking of Jinx…" he motioned toward the rectangle secluded within the cloth. "Why don't you see what's behind door number two?"

The mention of Jinx coinciding with the gift spurred Mary on, and she grabbed the square and unraveled the supple lining; it's protection to fragile confines.

Mary knew at once it was a frame, but it was backwards. Its wood was maple; a dark red that was nearly brown, but the hint of crimson still lingered. It was small, perhaps only a four-by-six, but that was because of the picture it contained.

Holding back the tears was going to be a lot tougher on this round. Her own six-year-old face grinned cheekily out of the glass, and beside her was Jinx; identical yellow dresses on their much younger outlines. The kitchen was there; the buoyancy was there, so palpable Mary could practically feel it radiating within the transparency, waiting to be set free. It was the picture she'd kept from the shoebox of visitation photos; the only one that had been discovered of her and her mother.

"You seemed to like it so much…" Marshall uttered, watching her lip quiver at the people buried beneath; lighthearted times from days past that could never be replaced. A parent who was alive; a parent showing in her gorgeous smile that she had a daughter she was proud of. "I thought it would be nice to have it framed," her husband enlightened amidst the heartrending emotion in Mary's soul.

She could only nod to show her appreciation, but Marshall understood the loss for words. He guided her in closer, still holding her hand, but using his free arm to pull her effortlessly under his chin. He dropped a tender kiss on her hair and stroked the strands falling down her back while she allowed only a few tears to sneak onto her cheeks.

"I love it…" she swore, probably the first time she'd been completely truthful when speaking about one of his presents. "I really love it." And then, what she actually meant, "I love you."

"And I love you," he repeated quietly. "I hope it won't bother you too much to look at it."

"No…" she shook her head beneath him, a sweet and kindly quality to her voice. "I want to see it. I need to remember her happy, right? I need to remember us happy. Isn't that what you said?"

"I believe it was something of the sort, yes," Marshall agreed. "There are plenty of festive times we can reflect upon in the days to come. This is just one of them."

Mary concurred, "I think this…" she tapped the frame with her nail. "Will remind me to try and remember the rest."

'The rest' being Jinx's bliss over her grandchildren; the way she'd always sought to comfort her daughters when they were in trouble; her purpose in teaching little girls to dance. Not the drunken days; not the fear; not the irresponsibility. They could wipe that aside if they needed, and Mary was sure they would.

Marshall's answer in the middle of caressing her hair was short, "I sure hope so."

They sat that way for a few minutes, no rush or hurry to move on. Here in his arms, head in his chest, she basked in the unbelievable good fortune she had to have found a man who understood her every want and every need, no matter how seemingly insignificant or foolish. He'd done everything in his power to bring her the parents she had lost when she'd been yearning for them most. He was her Superman. He could fix everything with the smallest, most thoughtful gestures. She never wanted to let him go.

But eventually, her eye caught her miniscule bag discarded on his lap, and she knew it was time to reciprocate. Still within his embrace, she took it up and nudged it against his chest.

"Your turn…" a whisper. "Although, I hardly think this is as consequential as what you got me," she used the big word on purpose.

"Oh well, I beg to differ…" always the gentleman. "I am sure I will love it. Alice certainly believed so."

Mary slipped out of his intertwined grasp to watch him repeat her movements; handling the tissue paper and fingering for the big prize. While he was working on it, she offered a preview.

"Well, it's kind of from me and the girls…" the mention of Alice had triggered the sample. "Since I never know what to get for you anyway."

"Well, a joint effort from my ladies is my favorite kind…" he stated without hesitation. "Let's see here…"

He yanked and then proceeded to chuckle with his reveal. Mary observed him with bated breath, viewing him rotate the ceramic coffee mug in deepest navy with the children's scrawls, drawings, and more pinpointed letters in the center. Mary knew it was possible he was feigning pleasure for her benefit, but something deep inside doubted it.

Tracing with his finger the largest and most vital phrase, "Number one dad."

Mary was quick; "It's cheesy, I know…" she certainly would've thought as much. "But, it's not just about me and Alice and even Norah…"

The eldest had signed too. Alice had been able to trace her name with white in huge letters across the back, complete with a light pink heart. Norah's was smaller, less demonstrative, on the edge opposite the handle. But, Marshall was paying no attention to the names now and instead wanted to see where Mary's story was headed.

"If it's not about you and the girls, then what is it about?" he ventured. "I love it, even without some deeper meaning."

He would, Mary discerned. He'd adore anything the three of them presented; they were his whole life. But still, juvenile signatures on a glossy coffee cup weren't the only intention here.

"I just wanted to show you…" Mary wasn't much for moving people, but this was important. "That, even though I have these lingering issues with my dad…"

He'd let go of her hand to open the sack, but Mary found herself picking it up again. It made her feel safe, and the realization was the push she needed to keep going.

"I know he was not exactly world's greatest," she confessed. "You are. I look at those girls – I mean, one of them isn't even yours – and I see me and Brandi. The age span and the personality; it's frightening how similar it is sometimes," she rambled on. "But, I would not trust them to anybody but you. And, I know Norah has Mark and that he's fabulous but…" a shrug to wrap things up. "Nobody tops you in the dad department. And, I wanted you to know that I see it – every day. You are ten thousand times the father mine was."

With a deep breath, Mary waited for what was coming next. She half-expected him to refute most of her declarations; to say James had been different, and that was all right. To say he was just an amateur and did his best; she didn't need to bow down to him. Marshall was as humble as they came.

Nonetheless, he surprised her. Although, his preferred speech was still one of the most modest in the book.

"Well, to be a father you have to have a mother…" calm and cool as the ocean tide, and eyes to match, he palmed her forearm with affection. "And that is where I am grateful every day that you're the one I get to share Norah and Alice with. I couldn't do it without you."

Mary thought they had probably run their limit on schmaltz for the evening, and decided to take the compliments for what they were. She simply jerked her head at his mug and tried to smile.

"A happy Valentine's Day to you, doofus…" less-than-charming, but he knew his girl. "It's been quite a February. Something tells me it is a month I'll have to slog through every year."

She wasn't very poetic in her ending, but Marshall gleaned her gist and set his cup on the bedside table. She saw where this was going and, picture still in hand, resumed her placement inside his chest. His arms were like a harbor; a port where she could dock her restless ship in the storm. Her lighthouse in the dark. The glimmer at the end of the tunnel.

"It's a funny thing about February…" he theorized, hushed, over her head, rubbing her shoulders all the while. "I know it brings you a lot of grief, but I see it entirely differently."

"You do?"

Every little bit helped.

"I do. Through all your hardships and adversity; everything you have had to struggle through…" with a sigh came the idea he admired all this. "You're still you. You still come out the other side. It is that fighting spirit I love most about you, Mary."

He was lulling her to sleep with his rhythm, "I'll have to make a list of what I love most about you…" she drawled.

"…And I know James and Jinx are weighing pretty heavy this month…" he completely ignored her, or else hadn't heard, too intent on finishing and easing her bones. "But, I know they did something very coveted in February for which I will be forever in their debt."

"Mmm…" the woman hummed. "What's that?"

Of paper hearts and frilly lace. Of silly little girls, dance recitals, baseball games, and a moppet with tiny round glasses. To being abandoned, to life and death; to new beginnings and old friends returning home. To a birthday on the ninth of the month with the fewest days.

Mary exhaled slowly, waiting for her boy's confession.

"I will owe them for a lifetime of Februarys…"

Her boy she loved to the moon and back.

"To repay the February they gave me you."

XXX

A/N: And that's the end! I admit I am going to miss Norah, Robyn, Max, and Alice; about as much as I miss Sam, Jesse, and the Mann nieces and nephews. I love creating new children for Mary and Marshall to fall in love with, and it is always hard to let them go.

Thank-you in spades to each of my reviewers: Reader1701, obsessedwithstabler, JMS529, JJ2008, usafcmycloud, redbrainbluebrain, Jayne Leigh, carajiggirl, Grey Fool, Caia, Meg, jekkah, and several guests! I almost don't care if I ever have a new reviewer again, because you all are so loyal and keep coming back for more; I could not ask for better than that. You stick by me, and I can't tell you how many smiles you bring to my face with your sweet comments. I don't know what's coming next, but I hope to see you all again in the future! Lots of love to all of you – I hope you'll tell me how you enjoyed the ending!