***This is set just after Marshall's Messy speech at the end of season 3, just before we see Mary's utter screw up. Stupid Faber. I own no one mentioned in this fic, but wouldn't it be nice if I did?*** 1/19/12-I edited a bit, combined chps 1 and 2 and tweaked the very end so I could have a place to come up with chp2. Any other changes will be mentioned in my profile updates. Thanks for stopping in and enjoy the new and improved piece. :)

Marshall drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the SUV anxiously as he drove home late that night. He was still pretty wound up after the attempted expose of his feelings for Mary. He really shouldn't be surprised that she had taken the first means of escape when he spoke, but he couldn't just stand by while she made yet another mistake. He could have kicked himself when the words first left his lips, but had warmed to the topic as he had continued. "You need messy..." he said to the silence of the car.

It had felt so very good to get the words out. He reined himself in before professing his love for her knowing that it would scare her even more, but the words had hung silently in the air. "I love you, Mary." he willed her to understand, to reciprocate. Growing tired of his thoughts, he turned on the radio in an attempt to drown himself out. Soft Jazz floated through the cab as he unwillingly continued down his own personal train wreck.

He had taken this train of thought many times in the past as he had tried to find the best course of action. He had known that if a situation such as this occurred he'd have to tread very carefully and would most likely still scare her away. He had vowed to himself he'd keep his feelings locked away. He knew that the only way they could ever have a relationship is if she came to him, hence the anxiety.

He was so afraid of what her next step would be, but he knew it had to be hers or he would just make it worse. She left for her two week vacation in the morning. He hoped that she would be able to relax and really think about his words. He knew she'd probably find herself a cowboy while she was there to try to hide from those thoughts and he resigned himself to that. This was going to be the longest two weeks of his life.

Mary paced her room throwing clothes for her vacation onto the bed with more force than was necessary. Where the hell did he get off dropping that bomb onto her? She was comfortable with their partnership and relationship as it stood. He was her rock, her sexless rock. She had ignored his glances and statements for a reason. This was something she didn't need. If he had only kept it to himself!

He was the only good thing she had ever had in her life and they worked just the way they were. He had seen her previous boyfriends and booty calls. He knew she was a crap girlfriend. Why in the third circle of hell would he purposely sign up for that? She used men like socks. Cuddleable when clean and new, but as soon as they started to smell or show signs of wear, she gave them to goodwill. Let the less fortunate have their turn.

Raphael had been the first she'd let worm so far into her life. He was completely malleable and she could control him, the relationship, all she wanted. She had been devastated when he had left her, more for the fact that he had left her. She had had feelings for the Dominican, but nothing substantial. Nothing like she had felt as a child or for Marshall. She knew she loved Marshall. She really did, but she knew also that anything she loved either hurt her or left her.

She would not walk willingly into such pain again. She would not suffer while she watched him begin to hate and resent her. She couldn't live without their bond so she refused to let if progress any further. Mary had progressed to roughly packing her duffle with the clothes she had grabbed. When she came to her string bikini she stopped. She knew the perfect way to feel better. Her recent possible bed mates had dried up. All except for one.

She had not really given him any real thought, but he would do for this; getting her freak on and sending a message to Marshall that would be received loud and clear. It would hurt him and she mourned that for a moment, but he would be firmly placed back into his designated box and she could tape him firmly inside. Reaching for her phone, Mary brushed at the wetness on her cheek. She was surprised at the tear drop balanced on her fingertip. No. Can't be tears. I must be sweating. I have no reason to be crying, dammit. Shaking off her sudden discomfort, Mary dialed the 303 area code.
"You've got Faber."
"I'm being forced on a vacation to Cabo and I need a travel companion. Are you interested?"
"Kitten," She could hear his grin as his tone heated. "I would be honored."

As soon as she saw that oily grin, Mary was regreting inviting Faber. She had told him she had a week vacation so that she would only have to deal with him for a few days, but that would still be a few days too long. Play the part, Mare. You're doing this for Marshall. You're doing this so that he doesn't waste himself on your sorry ass. A clean break.

She forced a smile as Faber walked to her and dropped his Luis Vuitton carry on at their feet. "Kitten. You look even more luscious than usual." He wrapped his arms around her to pull her into what he probably thought was a hot kiss. In reality, he used too much tongue and slobbered far too much. Mary pulled away as soon as she safely could to take him by the tie and lead him to baggage claim. Why'd she agree to meet him at the airport? If he'd met her at the hotel she wouldn't have to worry about chickening out. She felt queasy imagining his hands on her. She had already rented a car, a nice convertible so she could feel the wind in her hair, so at least she wouldn't have to worry about him trying to make out with her in the back of a cab. She did however have to suck it up while his hand pawed at her thigh while she drove back to her room. As they pulled into her spot at the resort, he tried to pull her over for another too wet kiss. Her phone rang and she snatched at it, desperate for the distraction.

Marshall had promised himself he wouldn't call or contact her at all while she was away. He'd let her make the first move, as always. But after a night spent tossing and turning and thinking about everything, he decided that it would be weird for them both if he didn't at least call to wish her a safe trip. She might think he was mad (And he was to an extent. She had left without even a fare-thee-well and that had stung) and avoid him and he just wanted to hear her voice and assure her that they were ok despite the obvious strain the night before had ended in. He blew out a breath and hit his speed dial. Two rings and he heard her fumble the phone, cursing. He grinned, thinking of her cross expression.

"Mary Shannon."

"Mare. Hey. I just wanted to call and wish you a safe trip. How was your flight?"

"Annoying. Kid behind me kept kicking the seat and his mother kept threatening a "time out" if he didn't stop. I told his mother I'd arrest her for public stupidity if she didn't make the brat didn't cut it out."

Marshall chuckled and took on a faux shocked voice, "Mare!" That was just like her. He missed her already and wished he'd been there to witness that. "What did she do?"

Mary chuckled, "Tried to argue that he was a sweet boy and that it was my fault for provoking him. She kicked up a fuss about innocent ears and tried to get me moved when I told her where she could stow that load. Sometimes I really, really love having a badge."

Marshall laughed, picturing the smug look on her face when she pulled her badge. He heard a voice and fabric rustling quickly. He frowned slightly. The voice had sounded familiar.

"Sorry. Room service." She said when the muffled conversation had stopped. She sounded a bit sad when she said, "I should probably go."

"Ah. Ok. Well, have a good trip. Bring me back some tequila. Call if you need anything."

Her voice warm, she said, "Will do. Bye, Doofus."

Just before he heard her phone disconnect he heard a familiar voice say, "Kitten." Marshall felt as if he'd been dunked in ice water. Faber. What that bastard doing there?

Marshall stood up from his recliner to pace. She had called Faber. Why else would he be in Mexico with her? He felt the ice in his veins solidify in his heart with a sharp pain. He had bared his soul to her and she had run to Faber. She never would have told him, he guessed. He never would have known if he hadn't heard the man's voice so close to the phone and therefore her ear.

Mary had run away with Faber to Mexico to avoid Marshall's words. He felt the rage melt the ice in his blood. She had left him for Faber. Faber. He had tried to warn her about the jerk when she had first shown interest. He had tried to make her understand what a complete waste of space the man was.

Marshall ran his fingers through his hair and stalked to the kitchen for a shot glass and whiskey. He needed a drink to wash away the image of Faber's mouth on her neck. The images of them in her hotel room, spent in their passion. He pounded the shot his shaky hands poured and refilled the glass for another and for a third. How could she do this to him? How could she call the oily bastard when had tried to make her see him, really see him for the first time?

He wondered if she had even waited until she had gotten into her car before she made that thrice damned call. What the hell was she thinking?

Marshall slammed the shot glass onto the counter, the impacted denting his counter and the shards of the broken glass cutting his hand. He looked down sharply at the blood oozing from his hand to drip, drip, drip onto the counter. He was mildly surprised to see blood and not fire as he felt as if the latter were coursing through his veins with every pound of his heart.

He continued to stare, the sting of the cuts bringing him back to earth with a thud. He slowly began picking the glass from his hand and cleaning the mess automatically while his thoughts turned morose. If she really didn't want him, she really didn't want him. His advances were unwelcome. Fine. Maybe he should look elsewhere for happiness.

Marshall, finished cleaning and bandaging his hand. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, he went out to his back patio to watch the sun go down and drink until he could forget her. An apt anolgy, the sunset and his dying feelings. Maybe when it rose again he would have some idea of what to do next. For now, he'd let himself wallow in his misery. Tomorrow would sort itself, as it always did. Tonight he'd sit in the dark and drink. Tonight he'd allow himself to hate her, but only tonight. Unbidden, the thought washed across his mind.

Damn you, Mary Shannon.

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