disclaimer: These characters are not ours, nor do we want them. False. We do. Fact. We would treat them better than that stupid look.

Spoilers: Oh come on the show is 110 years old.

A/N: File sharing is so much easier than facebooking the whole thing. Score one for the airheads. We are the only ones that are going to read this. So guess what? We're the best Marsan writers. Ever. Or not, but we like to think we are. Dah, need cucumber water.

The call came just after one a.m. Susan grumbled to herself as she rolled over, searching the side table and her sheets for the source of the ringing. She knew it had to be important for someone to call her this late, after she had worked a double. She finally found the phone, wedged between the bed and the side table, hitting the talk button just before it went to the answering machine.

"H'llo?"

"Halfway?"

She yawned and nodded her head.

"I'm leaving right now."

She hung the phone up and rubbed her eyes for a few minutes before getting out of bed. Only one person in the world could ask her to meet him for a really early breakfast, and he rarely did it, but it still bugged her sometimes. She stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom for a fast shower, just to wake up enough that she could drive.

Her wet hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders as she pulled her clothes on and headed out the door.

The drive to the diner halfway between Milwaukee and Chicago was filled with the quiet turning of her wiper blades and the ticking of her turn signal as she drove through a light drizzle in her light blue Volkswagen. She pulled into the tiny parking lot beneath the neon sign of the family run diner. She saw him sitting at the booth waiting for her and her heart dropped at his saddened expression. A steaming cup of coffee and a plate of food was waiting for her, so she braved the rain and made a break for the establishment.

Racing for the door, she sprinted inside. Wiping her feet on the black rug, her sneakers still squeaked as she crossed the tile floor and slid into the red leather seat across from him. Her hands wrapping around the warm mug as he spoke, "Jen's filing for divorce."

"Huh?" she muttered, eyes opening wide as her lips hovered over the edge of her coffee mug.

"It's over," he sighed, and wiped his tired eyes. "She's sleeping with her co-worker. Craig."

She just sat there, not quite sure what to say. One the one hand, she was glad that it was finally over. Not because she wanted Mark to herself as most people thought. She just hated seeing him so embattled all the time, so locked into a fight that would never end with the one person that was supposed to always be on his side. On the other hand, she was sad that they couldn't work it out, if not for themselves, then for Rachel. And on yet another hand, she was furious that Jen had betrayed him so cruelly.

She reached across the table, her hand hovering near his, but not touching. His eyes flicked up to hers and she saw nothing but relief written there.

"Did you tell Rachel yet?"

"No. Jen seems to think that Rach doesn't need to know yet."

"She knows, Mark. She knew before you did."

"I know."

They fell silent again, as the waitress came and refilled their coffee. Susan watched him as he made no move for the sugar or the cream. She got them for him, mixing his coffee just the way he liked it before she made her own.

"Are you okay?"

"Why do you think I called you?"

"Doctor assisted suicide?" she offered with a wink, and a small smirk rose to his face, "Saw that, Mister."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, grabbing the hot sauce and dumped some on her scrambled eggs. She reached over and swapped his toast for one of her pancakes as he poured syrup on top of her one pancake. Her eyes drifted up to his and they both smiled.

"So," she stabbed her eggs with her fork, "Why did you call me?"

"Because Doug would've ordered me a hooker," he mumbled around a bite of sausage.

She snorted and choked, "I think egg just came out my nose."

"Gross."

"I bet Doug has a hooker punch card by now. It would just be his free one."

"So you're saying he wouldn't even pay for a hooker for me?"

"Why pay to get VD if you can get it for free?"

"You have a sick sense of humor, Susan."

"County has embittered me to every sorrow in life."

"Maybe I shouldn't have called you then."

A split second, wordless conversation between their eyes and the comment was forgotten as he shoved a bite of pancake into his mouth.

"I don't know what to do here, Susan. Do I fight for Rachel or try to do this amicably? I don't know what kind of guy Craig is. I don't know if I want him in her life. I don't know if she wants him there. If she does, do I have to respect that? And if she doesn't, how do I get her out of there without damaging her relationship with her mom?"

"I don't know, Mark. I don't there is any right answer. You just have to be open and honest and hope that she's strong enough to get through this. I know you, Mark. You'll make it okay."

"How do you do that?" he mumbled around a mouth of scrambled eggs.

"Chew it, don't spew it," she fired back as she sipped her coffee. "How do I do what?"

Mark smiled at her, chewing his food thoughtfully and swallowing before speaking, "Know exactly what I need to hear when I need to hear it?"

"Cause, Mark Greene, you're the most predictable man to ever roam the earth," she grinned teasingly as she dumped more hot sauce on her food.

"And here I thought it was because you were my best friend and we share such a unique bond," he rolled his eyes, reaching out to grab the bottle from her. "Would you stop that? You're gonna regret it later and I don't want to hear it."

"You won't have to, it's my day off," she smiled, taking the bottle back and continuing to pour.

"Until you get called in."

"Bite your tongue."

"Sorry," Mark grinned. They sat in comfortable silence as they watched the rain streak down the window and pool on the sill. His foot tapped against hers and she tapped the side of his foot twice, his spoon clinked against his coffee mug three times, her nails rattled against her water glass.

"You should get going," Susan urged him, "Rach is gonna wake up soon and she'll need you to watch Bananas in Pajamas with her, Mark."

"Craig will be there," Mark sighed, placing money on the table to cover their meals.

She shook her head. "So what? He's not the important thing, Jen isn't the important thing. The only one who matters is Rachel."

"You win," Mark stood and slid on his rain coat, "again."

"Yeah, I'm kind of getting used to it," she said with a smirk as he helped her into her coat.

They stepped out of the diner, raising their voices to be heard over the wind as they walked to their cars.

"I wish I could give you some last parting line, but everything I think of sounds stupid."

"It's okay. The feeling is there."

She nodded and took her keys out of her pocket, wanting to stay in this rainy lot for just a little bit longer, knowing that Chicago and Milwaukee would suck them back into the daytime rituals, where their quiet understanding was lost in the shuffle of life. She slid the toe of her shoe through a small puddle, disturbing the perfect reflection of the lights of the diner.

She felt Mark's hand on her arms and she looked up at him as he pulled her into a tight hug. It felt like home as she stood with him, no matter how far she was from a warm bed and fuzzy slippers. His fingers glided through her hair, getting stuck in the wet tangles as he pulled her to him and kissed her forehead.

"Thanks for meeting me halfway."

"Anytime. Just not this early again."

He smiled and released her, and they got into their separate cars, pulling out of the parking lot and turning different direction. Their tail lights bid each other the last farewell, blinking three times each in a lit "I love you" that they couldn't say out loud. They always met halfway, two halves of a whole drawn together to completion.