In Plain Sight (season 4)

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In Plain Sight (2008–2012) is an American drama television series, airing on the USA Network, about a Deputy United States Marshal attached to the Albuquerque, New Mexico, office of the Federal Witness Security Program (WITSEC), more commonly known as the Federal Witness Protection Program, who must find ways to balance her professional life of protecting witnesses, her professional relationship with her work partner, and her problematic personal life.

The Art of the Steal [4.01]

Mary: [voiceover] Make no mistake: buying a car or copping a plea, deal making is a bloodsport. When a witness lands on my doorstep he's trading in his testimony, his hometown, and everyone he ever knew for a life at the end of the road. So we set him up; a new name, address, a job we hope he won't hate, but the one thing I can't give him, the deal I've yet to strike, is the one that protects him from the guy in the mirror.

Marshall: I'm impressed.

Mary: With what?

Marshall: You seem to be following a direct order.

Mary: [scoffs] I always follow a direct order. Unless, you know, it's stupid.

Marshall: I'm also impressed you seem to be rolling with change. It's not something at which you are adept.

Mary: Hey, I'm adept at change! I mean, did I not go on vacation with Faber? No one, including me, thought I could vacate, and I vacated!

Marshall: During the so-called vacation you convinced Faber to go make things work with his ex-wife and kids, which proves my thesis that you prefer a known situation that's deeply flawed to an unknown situation potentially free of flaws.

Mary: [stroking a car] Oh, man, it's the same color!

Marshall: Angry aubergine.

Peter: I searched for it far and wide. Found it at a used car dealer in Resolute, Kentucky. The dealer didn't want to sell it because he said he believed in God and he was sure it was a sin to make money off this, and I'm quoting, chariot of Satan.

Marshall: It has one hundred and forty thousand miles on it!!

Mary: It's road tested. Durable!

Marshall: Or as seen through another lens, a candidate for the junkyard!

Peter: Look, Mary, there's no reason for you to regress back into a Probe. Let me put you into a new loaner.

Mary: The only reason I'm back in the loaner is because of Mr. Headroom, here.

Marshall: The Probe is a known situation that is deeply flawed.

Mary: Or, seen through another lens, bite me.

Marshall: Your claws are showing.

Mary: They don't retract. I gotta tell you, I am both annoyed and impressed that you kept this little relationship a secret from me.

Marshall: Keeping secrets is part and parcel of our chosen profession.

Mary: Only the cheerleader doesn't seem your type.

Marshall: I defy you to categorize the women I've dated as belonging to one specific type. If anyone, it is you who has a deeply ingrained pattern to your romantic involvements.

Mary: Right. Yeah. Okay. Dominican ball player and divorcee FBI agent. Peas in a pod, those two.

Marshall: Both Raph and Faber believe that no matter how tough and independent a woman is, underneath it all, she wants a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. That's why you didn't marry Raph and Faber went back to sort things out with his ex-wife and 2.5 kids.

Mary: What are you saying? My type is guys that don't get me?

Marshall: In point of fact, your type is guys that you don't get don't get you. But this only applies to long-term relationships. Short-term, you will your words, not mine drop jeans with just about anyone.

Mary: What?

Marshall: We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

Mary: Don't talk like that. What's your point?

Marshall: Your mom is well ensconced at teaching ballet, your sister is engaged, and despite your underlying belief in her guilt it turns out she was free of complicity in the car theft. The questions is, what does the protective lioness do without anyone to protect?

Mary: [voiceover] Whether it's secrets, justice or the Amazon rainforest, every one of us protects things a thousand times a day. It doesn't take a gun; for most of us, protection is as quiet and reflexive as a breath. For some, though, for knights in shining armor, the lone ranger, a boyfriend or a mom, protection can be a hard habit to break. As much as we thump the bible about the vital need to change, the fact is, we hardly ever do. We stay here, halfway to happy, in our old familiar places, with our feet stuck firmly on the ground.

Crazy Like a Witness [4.02]

Mary: [voiceover] In my experience, holding out for closure does nothing but prolong the pain. The stoics got it right. Lance the boil, rip off the band-aid. Man up and get on with it. I gotta go.

ADA: Just make sure my witness shows up safe and sound at trial.

Mary: Wait, safe and sound? Is that new? That's not an either or thing?

[ADA gives her a stink eye]

Mary: [to coffee maker as she answers her phone] I hate you!

Marshall: What?

Mary: No, not you.

Marshall: Joey called. He said there's a situation at the house.

Mary: I am not going anywhere until I get...

Marshall: I've got two coffees.

Mary: I swear to God, you're a keeper.

Mary: Unbelievable. Adam was dead on about these guys from the get-go.

Marshall: Ah, the dulcet sound of a Mary Shannon admission, so rarely heard in nature.

Mary: Do you think everyone wants to punch you in the mouth?

Mary: [voiceover] One of my earliest memories is of a beachfront and a flagpole, and of lightning flashes heading for the shore. As grownups ran around, frantic, gathering beach towels, flip-flops, and five-year-olds, one kid in particular went racing toward the storm. I watched that five-year-old at the beachfront, clinging wide-eyed to the flagpole, as pretty bolts of lightning lit the sky. Then his mom ran up, or a lifeguard, or an aunt, and pulled him down to groundedness, to live another day. As with most things, hanging on to flagpoles is, in the end, a matter of balance, but good to keep you steady while you stay alert for lightning, as it storms across the sea.

Love in the Time of Colorado [4.03]

Mary: [voiceover] The little guy. The underdog. David as opposed to Goliath. These are who we're raised to root for, to climb every mountain, take on all comers, the shock the world with a win at Lake Placid, and once in a blue moon they do. But the unerring fate that every little guy will find love, bring home the gold, or slay the dragon is in reality the stuff dreams are made of, or rather fairytales. Just saying.

Mary: All right, fess up. Is something going on between you two? You having a fling or something?

Jimmy: I'm not having a fling.

Mary: Then, what? Don't tell me you've been in love with her since high school or something.

Jimmy: No. Since I was nine, actually.

[...]

Marshall: Let me get this straight. Your whole life you've loved one woman?

Jimmy: It's not like I didn't date. I had girlfriends. I even almost got engaged once. But ever since that first kiss in Winnie's bedroom window, no one's ever measured up.

Mary: Of course no one's measured up. You never got together. It's all just fantasy. Moonlit nights and ice cream cones. What actual girlfriend stands a chance?

Jimmy: It's not fantasy. It wasn't. I know this girl. We grew up together. We did homework together, we went to movies opening day, we shared a limo to the prom. I was even in her wedding.

[...]

Mary: Hey, what'd you mean before, you were in her wedding?

Jimmy: I was the man of honor.

Mary: Man of honor? That's not an oxymoron?

Marshall: Technically, no.

Mary: Hmm. Okay. It's a something-moron, though, I'm pretty sure.

Mary: Guy spends his whole life devoted to one woman who, P.S., married someone else. You know what we call that?

Marshall: Classically romantic?

Mary: Totally pathetic.

Delia Parmalee: I'm with Marshall. Sounds like the best romantic comedy ever.

Marshall: Don't get her started on rom-coms!

Mary: Don't get me started on rom-coms! Talk about a waste of time. Hey, Harry! Hey, Sally! Opposites attract! We hate each other, but not really. Yeah, I get it. Just save me the two hours of 'I'll have what she's having' and fess up now so I can get one with my life and back to the grownups table.

Delia: It sounds like someone could use a trip from Mr. Cupid.

Marshall: Don't get her started on Cupid.

Mary: I hate that fat little Valentine's baby.

Mary: I mean, I've kissed more girls than this guy.

Mary: Six?! Six sessions?! I got abducted and I was back in four, and one of them was lunch!

Marshall: Shelly thinks it's related to how protective I am of the women in my life.

Mary: Whoa, whoa, whoa. She said that? [watches as Marshall nods] Oh, boy.

Marshall: Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's that?

Mary: Come on, Marshall. All those dates you and Finkle went on?

Marshall: We had a date, it was coffee, and her ex called in the middle weeping, so technically.

Mary: She just got out of a messy breakup.

Marshall: Gordon. Delia is seriously dialed in.

Mary: And now she has you on the couch for wall to wall sessions and some not so subtle romantic recon. Wake up, pal! You're not a patient. You're her hostage.

Marshall: She does seem to focus on you and Abigail a lot.

Mary: Yeah, speaking of, how the hell's you go from slumber party pillow-talk to breaching the veil of WITSEC?

Marshall: Nobody breached the veil of WITSEC. Abigail is a detective, a good one. She detected. And, as I recall, you told Raph.

Mary: Yeah, and, as I recall, we were engaged. He was my fiance, not some JV cops-and-robbers play date.

Marshall: I didn't tell her.

Mary: Fine.

Marshall: Fine.

James Woodhead: You're a WITSEC inspector. You can't arrest me.

Mary: I'm a member of the U.S. Marshall Service, the oldest branch of law enforcement this country's ever seen. I can arrest the president if it's warranted.

Mary: [speak to Winnie and Jimmy] Can I just say one thing? You people are idiots. Honestly, all you had to do, just one of you, was open your mouth when you were nine, and we could've avoided all of this... Albanians, self-inflicted car crashes, me being this annoyed. So can we please just cut to the chase? You love her, she loves you, get on the goddamn plane. As you wish.

Marshall: So, come on, what do you think?

Mary: I think this is the beginning of the end of a beautiful friendship.

Marshall: Mary, I need you to know something.

Mary: What? What do you need me to know?

Marshall: You run around, passing notes back and forth, you got 'em in a room together, you got 'em into WITSEC together. You don't hate cupid. You are cupid.

Mary: [voiceover] From childhood we're fed a steady diet of 'once upon a time,' the ultimate lead-in to love conquers all. No wonder we wind up at bookstores and movies with stars in our eyes, or head in the clouds. Heathcliff, Scarlett, a farm boy, a princess, Affairs to Remember on the 85th floor, but the star-crossed who kiss right before Auld Lang Syne or played by a boombox held over their heads, they're a pain in the ass. Because love, no matter what the storybooks say, hardly ever conquers all. So when it does, and the grownups, the skeptics, the stable of mind, watch others blissfully fly into the sun, it churns up and riles something deep down inside. We feel something foreign and fleeting, something hard to admit: we hope.

Meet the Shannons [4.04]

Mary: And so it begins.

Marshall: And so what begins?

Mary: Extreme Makeover: The Marshall Mann edition. She zeroed in on what needs fixing, I'm telling you. Don't get me wrong, I like Abigail, I do.

Marshall: You hide it well.

Mary: But you know the type. She's a fixer. Trust me, aside from late night cramming for her SATs, that girl will not rest till she's completely changed you.

Mary: [voiceover] Everybody fakes it... pretending they like the friend's spouse, feigning interest in the ozone or christmas carols at the door. Just it seems somehow smarter or nicer. Kinder... funnier. It's like we ought to be Canadians or something.

Beth Harris: You know, you don't have to check on me 24/7.

Mary: What are you talking about? I'm not checking on you. I always hang out in the smoker's section with the cool kids.

Beth: This is where the cheerleaders sit.

Mary: Ah. That explains the hives.

Mary: Hey, how'd you meet Abigail?

Marshall: Good morning.

Mary: Just go with me here.

Marshall: At the Joint Task Force briefing.

Mary: Exactly. See? You just gave me the headline, not every single detail like Karl and Sharon did last night.

Marshall: You saying it was rehearsed?

Mary: I'm saying it's hinky.

Stan: I was just with Delia and the others, and across the board they matched Sharon the drug dealer with Sharon the PTA mom. That little beauty mark is killing us.

Marshall: We've got to stop that documentary from airing.

Stan: I was thinking the exact same thing, but not to worry. I got this.

Mary: Cool. John Wayne mode.

Marshall: [smiles] John Wayne mode.

Stan: What? I know a guy.

Mary: [laughs] Ha! Even better! Godfather mode.

Stan: I wear many hats, Mary.

Mary: You wear many hats?! Don't tee up the bald jokes for us, Stan. It takes the fun out of it.

Mary: [voiceover] There comes a time when every kid peeks behind a curtain and sees she's not the only one putting on a show. Fathers, mothers, cops and robbers, every member of the PTA: all playing dress up, all wearing their masks; a constant Halloween. That first peek behind the curtain, the lifting of the mask, it's a disorienting moment. The solid ground beneath you slips away to quicksand, along with all you thought you knew. But you realize, as days and nights go by, that there's a kind of truth in the lie. That the mask is often more revealing than the face that lies beneath, because the person you pretended to be, the mother, the father, the sister, the cop, became, somehow, the person that you are.

Second Crime Around [4.05]

Mary: [voiceover] Evolution is a funny thing, developing defense mechanisms that work solely on the element of surprise. Case study: When I was seven, Scott Halley and I caught a lizard in his backyard. The lizard was so shocked, it shed its tail in Scott's hand, at which point Scott started bawling. His dad said the tail would grow back. But before we could witness the reptilian resurrection, his parents split up and his mom moved him to Sarasota. Point is, to survive is to let go... of old habits, new friends, and to shed your tail every now and again. It leaves scars, and it isn't pretty, but if you look close enough, what is?

Marshall: Coffee sour? You're making that face.

Mary: It's this clown, Ronnie Dowenberg.

Marshall: Ah, the affinity scammer.

Mary: Sells good Samaritans on phony bonds to build imaginary churches. I don't even like church and I hate this guy. Con-men are the worst.

Marshall: They're great on the stand, blend in anywhere, they play ball.

Mary: That's what they want you to think!

Marshall: Maintaining such a dim view of humanity, isn't it exhausting?

Mary: That's why they make energy drinks. [smirks] Look, Marshall, we hide murderers, smugglers, every crayon in the wise-guy wannabe box, but con-men: they don't just take your money, they rob you of your dignity. They leave you poor, wide-eyed and stupid on the side of the road, and if you think there's a chance in hell this son of a bitch can up and whistle a different tune, I've got a seaside condo in Beirut I'd like to tell you about.

Mary: [answers phone from her home kitchen] Hey, Stan.

Stan: Where are you?

Mary: Burger King.

Stan: Well, grab me a Whopper Jr., no pickles, don't forget to bring your mitt.

Mary: A: get your own Whopper, B: I don't own a mitt, which follows since I don't play softball.

Stan: Mary, it's Marshals versus APD!

Mary: I'm not a team player, Stan, and that's a direct quote from last year's performance appraisal.

Mary: Man... it was gonna be such a good day. Bust a bad guy, watch some crappy TV. Curl up in bed with a box of wine. Now... this is all screwed up, and I got a date with my ex-husband.

Marshall: Your what?

Mary: Oh, yeah. I was married for five days when I was 17.

Marshall: You were what?

Mary: It was no big deal. We were young and stupid. Well, we were young and he was stupid. Anyway, he's in town for an air conditioning convention. Wow, there is no way to make that sound sexy. Whatever, we'll probably just go to Zinc, drink too much, and get in a fight, you know, for old times' sake.

Marshall: How has this never come up? You have an ex-husband.

Mary: You know me. I don't like to brag.

Marshall: Whoa! You like it here? I thought you said it was too... something. You must be Mark. I'm Marhsall, Mary's partner. This is Abigail.

Abigail: I'm the girlfriend. Hey, Mark, Mary.

Mary: Uh-huh.

Marshall: Hey, fun idea. Let me see if they have a table for four.

Mary: That is fun. I'll supervise. Is this 'cause I put your cell phone in jello?

Marshall: This is because, once upon a time, you got to grill my dad on my youthful indiscretions. And you know what they say about payback.

Marshall: A witness going undercover is a non starter unless his inspectors are there to ensure his safety.

FBI Special Agent: And when was the last time you worked undercover?

Mary: [scoffs] We're always undercover. That's the job. Seriously, in real life I'm a total bitch. [she and Marshall laugh]

Mary: Can you believe we're just rolling out the red carpet for this douche bag?

Marshall: It's what we do: we keep douche bags honest and occasionally remunerate them, even when they aren't.

Mary: Disappearing. It's not a bad deal. No baggage. No exes tracking you down.

Marshall: So, you and Mark are...

Mary: I just couldn't buy a ticket for a movie I'd already seen.

Mary: [voiceover] Forward progress is impeded by several menial laws: inertia, friction, fear of the unknown, and the impeccable timing of charming ex-husbands. But somehow, improbable as it may be, we find ourselves not quite free of the past, but lurching toward the future, inch by bittersweet inch.

Something A-mish [4.06]

Mary: [voiceover] To raise a child, says an African proverb, and one first lady of note, it takes a village, a community. Families splashing at a car wash to support the local school. Seeding a little league field in advance of opening day. That's not how it went in our house. We never made it to the car wash or the bake sales. Our communal experiences meant ducking debt collectors and the FBI, which wasn't without its lessons. Shutting all the lights off, a sudden makeshift hide and seek, or moving every month or two teaches you quick to count on a community of one.

Mary: [whispers across the hallway to her out of sight partner] Marshall!

Marshall: [whispers back] I'm done with the Amish jokes!

Mary: Why? They're funny!

Marshall: They're not, and before you ask, I haven't seen the remote.

Mary: Ugh. What about a pillow? Have you seen an extra pillow? These beds suck. I swear to God, I think my mattress is made of wood. [looks up as Marshall appears in her doorway wearing an Amish style men's nightgown] Oh, no. What are you doing?! No, no, no, no, no! Eli was just being polite! He didn't expect you to actually wear them!

Marshall: [motions to his exposed lower leg] Can you not handle this?

Mary: Oh, my God. Put them away, Ichabod. Yuck!

Marshall: Here. [throws her a pillow]

Mary: Hey, hey, hey. One more thing!

Marshall: I'm not giving you my pie.

Mary: Hoarder.

Marshall: Glutton.

Abigail: I am thinking of buying Marshall a first edition of Leaves of Grass. Do you know if he has it already?

Mary: [laughs] Right. Because I've got Marshall's pretentious book collection memorized.

Abigail: Well, I just thought you might...

Mary: Tell me you're not one of those psycho girlfriends trolling for intel about the guy she's dating.

Abigail: Mary, this isn't a trick question. It's not espionage. You know Marshall better than he knows himself, and you sit five feet away from him ten hours a day.

Mary: [voiceover] Community is not exactly one size fits all. One man's slice of heaven is another man's hellhole. The lucky few fit in from the start, like a glove; always with the wind at their backs and a place to call home, surrounded by parents, kids and the green of the grass. For some, though, all the community you'll ever need can be found on the other side of the room.

Mary: So here's something... I'm kind of ...how should I put this? I'm...

Marshall: Expecting? With child? In a family way?

Mary: How did you know?

Marshall: Mary, you're my partner and my best friend, I'm with you all the time.

Mary: Yeah, and?

Marshall: Well, lately, you're ah ...[motions to her breasts]

Mary: Oh, ew! Marshall! Just...

Marshall: You do like a pie, but your liking pie is nothing new. What's new is...[motions again]

Mary: Yeah, got it.

Marshall: Also, there was the vomiting, as well as something Abigail mentioned about you hating the taste of coffee?

Mary: All of a sudden, I can't drink it without wanting to hurl. Can you believe that? I can't drink coffee. Good luck with that, by the way.

Marshall: Yeah. Yeah.

Mary: So she knows?

Marshall: Abigail? No. I'm not gonna talk to her about it before I talk to you.

Mary: Why didn't you say anything?

Marshall: Well, Mary... The thing is, I... I just thought. I kinda thought... That it wasn't my place.

Mary: That book... So did you have it already?

Marshall: Yeah, but not a first edition. I love first editions.

Mary: I know. I mean, I know now.

Marshall: Yeah. So...

Mary: Mark.

Marshall: Who says you can't go home again?

Mary: Yeah.

Marshall: So all the available options, what's your next move?

Mary: Hell if I know.

I'm a Liver Not a Fighter [4.07]

Mary: [voiceover] A week before my father left, we were in the kitchen as the sun came up. Just the two of us. I was six. Mom was passed out in the bedroom in a tangle of sweaty sheets while I scavenged cupboards in a nearly-empty fridge for anything to eat. Dad called me over to the table, told me to bring the milk. We sat there, the last meal we ever shared, eating oreos that he'd left out overnight. Over soft, stale oreos, my father told me we were special because we knew a secret that other people don't. Like many things, an oreo, over time, becomes the very best version of itself. That was his last bit of wisdom. The final gospel of James Wiley Shannon. Five days later, he was gone.

Marshall: A doctor.

Mary: No.

Marshall: An OB/GYN.

Mary: Still a doctor, still a no.

Marshall: It's a simple blood test. It takes five minutes. Five minutes.

Mary: "Five minutes to blood test, five minutes to blood test." Ease up, Rain Man. Maybe count some cards or toothpicks or something.

Marshall: We're having a baby, Mary.

Mary: Oh, we are?

Marshall: I'm with you every day if you're having a baby, trust me, we're having a baby.

Mary: Fine, whatever. Just get back to me when you need three jog bras to run to the phone.

US Attorney: The Lithuanian operation is more than just money laundering. They're terrorists. We're talking murder, drug smuggling, prostitution, and that's just what they do to unwind. Now I've been tracking this group for seventeen months, and I'm telling you, they're a scourge. [gets hard looks from Mary and Marshall] The group. Not Lithuanians as a whole. [hurriedly explains] My mother's side is half Lithuanian! I'm not being a racist!

Mary: Huh! Next Mother's Day maybe you embroider that on a pillow!

Stan: Bottom line, unless Ben get's a transplant he's not going to make it to the trial.

US Attorney: Great! Wouldn't want anything to be easy. Ever!

Mary: That's right. He gave himself liver failure. You know, to spite you.

Mary: Oh, my God, Miami. Even the humidity's humid.

Marshall: I don't mind. It's good for the pores. What? A man can't care about his complexion?

Mary: Just step on it, lady. I gotta pee like a Russian racehorse.

Marshall: Teamster.

Mary: Tinker bell.

Marshall: You sure it was a good idea flying down here, considering...

Mary: Marshall, fine. I took a blood test. It was positive. You happy?

Marshall: Are you?

Mary: That's not the point. The point is, Dr. Wolk said it's fine for me to fly in my first trimester. So how about you take care of your uterus, I'll take care of mine?

Marshall: Okay, I'm just gonna say it. You took a fall, a bad one.

Mary: Gee, you think?

Marshall: You should see a doctor. And not tomorrow. Seriously, Mary, a person in your condition...

Mary: Marshall, I'm pregnant. I'm not disabled, okay?

Marshall: Okay. So, um, what's the plan?

Mary: I don't know. The plan is I'd rather not be pregnant. But I'll do what I do, protect and relocate. There must be hundreds of couples in a ten-mile radius who'd kill for the shot at 3:00 A.M. feedings, and I'm just the girl to give it to them.

Marshall: Just like that? You sure?

Mary: No, I'm not sure of anything, except I wanna keep doing my job and I don't want anyone else to know. And if you keep treating me like some sort of wounded koala, someone's gonna figure it out.

Brandi: Mary, you're never tempted to, you know, look for him? I mean, with your job and everything?

Mary: Brandi, the man is an FBI fugitive. The day I'd find him I'd cuff him at hello.

Brandi: I know, but it's been so long, and Peter was saying something about a statute of limitations.

Mary: Look, guys like dad don't change. The picture you're going to find is of a guy who held up banks, ditched me and mom and a baby in a crib, and then got a new family and bailed on them, too. I mean, are you sensing a pattern here?

Brandi: You never know. Peter says it takes some people a long time to grow into their authentic selves.

Mary: Okay, first of all, don't say authentic selves. Second, you're getting married, so you're all overflowing with perspective and forgiveness. Forgiveness is for people who deserve it, and dad is still out there doing God knows what, so he's not one of those people, you know. He's just the guy in the picture.

Marshall: Procreation is remarkable in its complexity...

Mary: Here we go.

Marshall: And its relative simplicity.

Mary: Kill me now.

Marshall: What comes after: family dynamics, hopes and dreams, the triumphs, the tragedies.

Mary: Sweet Jesus, shut your hole.

Marshall: That's the tricky stuff.

Mary: I can't believe I'm pregnant.

Marshall: I know you can't, and yes you are.

Mary: I'm not sure I know how to do this.

Marshall: It's just like you said, treat it like a witness: protect and relocate.

Mary: Yeah.

Marshall: We'll make a list. You do like lists.

Mary: I do like a list.

Marshall: I'll draw up a template tomorrow with 'locate nearest restroom' on every other line. Can I walk you out? I'll let you get the door.

Mary: No, I've got some stuff to finish up.

Marshall: Okay. We'll talk more tomorrow.

Mary: Don't threaten me. [smiles as Marshall laughs]

Mary: [voiceover] Growing up sucks. The days of cookies, dreams and the ice cream man do their flickering fade to black, like some wounded firefly or a nightlight on the fritz. Children become parents, parents become helpless, and dreams you thought you'd always dream slip silent out the door. But ultimately, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, when you look at your life with a hard, unflinching eye, there's only one real certainty: the growing never stops. That and the death and taxes thing.

Kumar vs. Kumar [4.08]

Marshall: I think I want to adopt Vick.

Mary: He has parents, Marshall. Plus, two nerds don't make a right.

Marshall: I know, it's just hanging out with him I can't help thinking about what it would be like: fatherhood. Speaking of which, you know you have to tell Mark about this stuff, right? [motions to her belly]

Mary: No. It was a one night stand. I don't have to tell my ex-husband anything. That's what one night stands and ex-husbands are for.

Mary: That was Ashok.

Marshall: What was a shock?

Mary: On the phone. That was Ashok.

Marshall: Ah-shoke.

Mary: Whatever. Whoever. He's on his way up.

Marshall: How did he sound?

Mary: How do you think? Arrogant! He sounded arrogant. Like he's better than everyone and right about everything. [gets a long look from Marshall] Yeah, but I really am.

Peter: So you ducking Brandi...

Mary: She sent you to what? To spy on me?

Peter: No, this is a solo mission, but it's all starting to make sense. She doesn't know about your...

Mary: Growth Spurt, no, and now you're running around like some sort of munch kin P.I. because Brandi thinks I'm mad at her?

Peter: Pretty much.

Mary: And you're here of your own volition? She has no know ledge?

Peter: None.

Mary: Sneaking around. Keeping secrets. Going behind my sister's back? This brother-in-law thing could work for me. I could milk this. No jokes. None.

Mary: [listening to federal prosecutor] Listen to him. We run the race, he takes the victory lap. How long have you know this ballbag anyway?

Stan: Too long.

Marshall: You two aren't related, are you? Inbred in-laws from feuding clans?

Mary: Come on, you're killing me! Give it up, Stan.

Stan: I slept with his...

Mary: Mother? Sister? Say mother.

Stan: Fiance.

Mary: What?!

Marshall: Whoa!

Mary: Stanley, up top! [Mary and Marshall hold up their hands for a high five] Come on. No? [high fives Marshall]

Stan: Ex-fiance. I mean, to be clear, she is now his ex-fiance, all right? And I had no idea they were involved when we got intimate. That's...

Mary: Look at him. Just standing there. Like we're going to just leave it at that.

Marshall: Adorable.

Mary: [voiceover] There are times in your life where all you can do at the end of the day is turn out the lights, flop on the bed, and throw in the towel. Raise the white flag. For some that kind of surrender is hard to even contemplate and harder to accept, and there's a dignity in that, in fighting to the finish, to the red-faced bitter end. But in those moments, in bed, right before the lights go out, solace can be found. The very act of giving up becomes a starting point. You clear your head. You still your beating heart. You navigate the rocky shoals, setting out again. Call it surrender or serenity, it doesn't matter which, because the thing you never thought you'd do or say or ever have to face, becomes more than what you have to do. It becomes the way it is.

Mary: Hey, Brandi. It's Mary. But you know that 'cause the caller id would say it on the thing. Plus my voice. Anyway, I'm having a baby. So... Mom will get this message too, right? That was officially a pregnant pause. Okay. Talk to you later.

The Rolling Stones [4.09]

Mary: [voiceover] Back at our Lady of Immaculata, the nuns taught us that getting into college and/or heaven was a matter of sitting up straight, shutting your mouth, and keeping your eyes in the front of the class. But the sisters' best intentions didn't always pave the way to the Ivy League, let alone the afterlife. The fallacy is believing that being good means doing well. That walking the straight and narrow, minding your P's and Q's, and following the golden rule will, in the long run, reap rewards.

Marshall: Patience, grasshopper.

Mary: Suck it, sensei.

Marshall: You're not annoyed at taking a backseat?

Mary: Are you kidding me? It's Goofus & Gallant in there I get the easy one. The backseat's the least I could hope for; I'm looking for the trunk.

Stan: Good. That's good. Good deal.

Mary: As for your smug little attitude, I'm not so much bothered by it as I am memorizing it. You know, for when this all blows up in your face.

Stan: There we go.

Mary: And for the record, just because my boobs are so big Dolly Parton could sue for silhouette infringement, doesn't mean I'm some delicate flower, some porcelain doll.

Marshall: You know, a layer of porcelain is incorporated into the shell of most modern tanks as an anti-explosive.

Mary: Look, this isn't new. This is no big deal. We've been pushing them out since time began. In mangers, in taxicabs, out in the fields. You think this is going to stop me from doing my job? [phone rings] Watch. [looks at phone] Damn it.

Marshall: What do you got?

Mary: Ultrasound appointment.

Marshall: [deadpan] Have fun.

Mary: [voiceover] Scientists and scholars and poets and priests can argue the particulars, but who's to say, really, how children raised in the exact same house can turn out to be so drastically different? Forget nature or nurture. My guess is it's the luck of the draw. And that's the scary part. How smart they are, if they can read a map, or carry a tune, it's mostly out of your hands. Just add water and hope for the best. Because in the end, as it is in the beginning, a child is going to be who a child is going to be. All it'll be for sure is a reminder, a constant reminder of who you are, and where you've been, and how far you have to go.

Girls, Interrupted [4.10]

Mary: [voiceover] The getaway, I guess, is in my blood. Away from the screaming chaos of my childhood home, I would fly out the door and hop on my bike, white knuckling the handlebars with nowhere to go, I'd pedal as fast as it took to feel my hair in the wind and the sting on my face. Whether I wanted to be found or just missed, I'm not sure. But no one ever sent out a search party. Those frantic, furious bike rides never took me more than a few miles from my house. But it was far enough for me to learn that I could get back on my own. And that sometimes the best way to find yourself is to get yourself lost.

Carlos: Your loved ones hurt you when you were a child. It made you fear getting close to anyone because they may hurt you too.

Mary: My family wasn't perfect and kids are hardwired from an early age. I mean, I've seen more...savvy insight on $2 t-shirt and novelty mugs.

Carlos: Now you have a child on its way. And a very important choice to make.

Mary: Says who?

Carlos: The universe.

Mary: [to witness] Look, of course you're right, she had her shot, and there's nothing more soul sucking than forgiveness, but sometimes you just have to take a deep breath, and close your eyes and fall on your sword. Look, family's never perfect. All it is, really, is yours.

Mary: [voiceover] Those things we love in childhood, whether it's taking off on your own or playing the oboe, they're planted deep in the ground with you. Which is why true transformation takes more than hot rocks and drum circles, wandering the woods for a sign or a path. But I'll say this: Robert Frost had it right about the road less traveled, because not knowing where you're headed leads you sometimes to right where you belong.

Provo-Cation [4.11]

Mary: [voiceover] The summer after first grade, my neighbor taught me how swim. Mrs. Duane, on dry land, was a sumo-sized single mom and CPA. But five feet from the edge of the shallow end, she was my own personal safe harbor. Holding out her stay-puft marshmallow arms, she'd say, "close your eyes, count to five, take a breath, and jump." What came next was a frantic mix of kicking and gulping and bubbles and gasps. Slowly, but somewhat surely, I made it through my turquoise-colored panic and into her waiting arms. Not because I wasn't scared. Because she wasn't.

Marshall: Let's move in together. You, me, and Oscar.

Abigail: Okay. I'll give notice tomorrow.

Marshall: I'm serious.

Abigail: So am I.

Marshall: It's not too soon?

Abigail: Marshall, he's a dog. He'll adjust.

Marshall: "Luke" now. Interesting.

Mary: What's interesting? It's his name.

Marshall: You two went to lunch?

Mary: I had to eat. He was there. Whatever.

Marshall: You make it sound so romantic.

Mary: Romantic? Marshall. Look at me. Babar's sexier than I am.

Marshall: Pregnant women are only less attractive to men who have never... consummated with one.

Mary: Oh. What?

Marshall: No. I mean, it wasn't my baby.

Mary: Blech, Marshall. Gross. Look, if you're into that stuff, find a website.

Marshall: No, it's complicated. I was in college.

Mary: Okay, you need to stop talking now. What is all this? What, you got a mope angling for new digs? Uh, it's, uh...

Marshall: It's not for a witness. It's for me. For me and Abigail, actually.

Mary: You and Abigail. Interesting. So who's renting the u-haul?

Marshall: Still sorting that out. We've both gotten pretty set in our ways.

Mary: Yeah, well... How set in her ways could a 12-year-old get, right?

Marshall: Point is, my place doesn't feel right to her, her place doesn't feel right to me.

Mary: Hmm. That's odd. I mean, Abigail's so neat and girly, and you're so neat and girly. Well, you know what I think.

Marshall: It's not a sign that we shouldn't move in together. It's a--a glitch.

Mary: A glitch.

Marshall: A bump.

Mary: A bump. Huh. Here you go. How about this place? The prairie-style one. It's perfect.

Mary: [voiceover] Ask any aquaphobic six-year-old. There are benefits to staying out of the pool. You get to mock the nose plugs and the kickboards, eat ice cream without watching the clock for 30 minutes after. And the dry itch aftermath, the bleachy stench of chlorine is someone else's cross to bear. But sitting poolside as others splash around can tempt even the most timid. If you're feeling brave, you close your eyes, count to five, take a breath, and jump. And you hope that someone stronger, more currently reliable-- your own sumo-sized CPA-- will be there to pull through the kicks and the gulps, the bubbles and the gasps.

A Womb With A View [4.12]

Mary: [voiceover] I heard this lame-ass, late-night radio shrink once who claimed he could tell everything about you from the car you drive. Your education, or lack thereof, your income, race. He even had a best-guess at the busyness of your sex life, or lack thereof. Everything you are, reduced to make, model, and the choice of air freshener hanging from your rearview. Guy gets an advanced degree in "you are what you own" t-shirt wisdom. His parents must be proud.

Marshall: Um... listen. We don't have to get into this if you don't want, but all this with the Templeton's, the adoption, that's all... set in stone?

Mary: Are you serious? Oh, my God, get in line. Tell Brandi and Jinx I say hi.

Marshall: Hey, I just thought, I don't know, this Grace situation might've churned up some second thoughts for you.

Mary: Well, obviously, it's churned up some second thoughts for you. You clearly think I'm making a bad decision.

Marshall: No, just a hard one. Look, whatever you're going to do, I have total faith that it'll be the right thing for you, for everyone. But it's hard for me to stand here and go on about being here for Grace no matter what without making it clear that the same thing goes for you, times ten. No matter what.

Mary: Marshall, I just...

Marshall: So...

Mary: So what?

Marshall: So, still holding firm on the Templetons?

Mary: Oh, yeah, right, Marshall. 'Cause cradling a newborn for 30 seconds turned my whole world upside-down.

Marshall: Then why keep the picture?

Mary: This? This is evidence.

Marshall: Ah, for the report, right. Good thinking.

Mary: Marshall, seriously. Look at his face. It's like a Pug got tossed in the dryer.

Mary: [voiceover] They say you can't buy happiness. What you can buy are the trappings of happiness: sports cars, mansions, friends in high places or in low ones, depending on the view. But all we truly own, ultimately and everlastingly, are the various people in our messy lives. This often has little to do with happiness.

Brandi: What's up? You get some bad news?

Mary: No, I just...Cancelled my meeting with the Templetons. It's the adoptive family.

Brandi: What does that mean, "cancelled"?

Mary: I don't know. I just...Well, all I know is I don't need to know tonight.

Something Borrowed, Something Blew Up [4.13]

Mary: [voiceover] I've always been mystified by the mindset of makeup: age-defying, firming, regenerating, micro-sculpting, putting car payments worth of your paycheck into a three ounce bottle. I'm amazed. Honestly, it's like I'm on safari. I mean, I get it. On some level you want to change, hide, feel what it's like to be just not you, if only for a night, but at the end of the day, as your haggard reflection will tell you every time, the makeup comes off and all that you're left with is exactly who you are.

Stan: We're moving the witness. This thing is done.

U.S. District Attorney: McQueen, I can call Washington, get them to okay an alternate juror. You can't shut this down!

Stan: Yeah? I'm a U.S. Marshall, counselor. I got jurisdiction in fifty states, plus territories, and right now I got a witness to protect. You want to call D.C., be my guest!

Abigail: You scared me.

Marshall: I scared you? For me it was the sniper fire. Ow.

Abigail: Don't a baby. Let me get the glass out.

Marshall: Sorry you got dragged into this sub-optimal situation.

Abigail: Well, I'm not sure I mentioned it, but in my off-time I do a little detective work. Dead bodies, flying bullets, kind a part of the job description.

Marshall: If anything happened, I want you to know I...

Abigail: What? You'd throw yourself on top of Mary?

Marshall: No. I mean, yes. She's my partner, Abigail, and she's pregnant. My instincts kicked in.

Abigail: I get it. I do.

Marshall: Do you?

Abigail: I do.

Mary: God, I'm tired.

Marshall: You're in your third trimester. The baby's exerting pressure on your lumbar spine, obstructing the venous return from your legs.

Mary: Is it wrong to want to pop this kid out early on the off chance it'll stop your graphic recollections of freshman bio?

Marshall: It's perfectly natural.

Mary: I should have been here for her. [referring to her sister Brandi]

Marshall: It was impossible today, and you are every other day.

Mary: Marshall, it was her wedding day and I was AWOL. AWOL maid of honor. So, earlier, you know, thanks for, you know.

Marshall: The courthouse?

Mary: Yeah. By the way, you falling on top of me instead of her, how'd that go over with Nancy Drew?

Marshall: I told her it was just instinct.

Mary: You douche. You said that?

Marshall: She understands. She gets it. You're my partner.

Mary: Yeah. Running through that hallway today, the bullets flying, the running, I don't know. I just, you really feel the weight of this, you know? I just... I don't know.

Abigail: Marshall. Hey.

Marshall: Uh, listen, I can...

Mary: No, no. It's fine. I'm fine. Really.

Marshall: You need a lift?

Mary: I'm good.

Marshall: Come on. I'm not going to leave you, literally, at the altar. Well, technically it's a chuppah. A chuppah. Chuppah.

Mary: Don't. Don't make me laugh. My uterus. No guttural C-H.