Spontaneity

Marshall considered himself to be an extraordinarily patient man. He could deal with the most difficult witnesses and create the most complex Origami figures. He was content with waiting for the perfect opportunity for everything. He had considered Mary his greatest exercise in patience. He thought he had her all figured out.

The problem was that he actually lost his patience as far as she was concerned. One mention of her "doing some cowboy" had shattered the flimsy window of his sanity. Before he knew it, he was in her face, words were coming out of his mouth, and she was looking at him like he had grown a second head.

"What?" Marshall narrowed his eyes and tried to recall what he had just said to her. Oh, crap¸ he thought as realization dawned on him. He sucked in a breath and prepared for an onslaught.

"What? I'm thinking," was her only response. He continued to hold her gaze until she became distracted by Stan. Dejectedly, he made his way back to his desk and attempted to continue his work. Marshall kept his head down as she exited Stan's office and only risked glances at her over file folders and when he was sure she wasn't looking; Mary didn't broach the subject so neither did he.

It was a long and painfully agonizing two weeks while Mary was on vacation. Time dragged on mercilessly as Marshall tried to find things to occupy his mind. There wasn't a book in his house that he hadn't read, no movies he hadn't seen, no witness issues, and Stan was busy with his new protégé. He had briefly considered going back home but he knew that either his mother would figure out something was wrong, or that his dad would ask him outright how Mary was; or both. He could picture both of those scenarios happening and it didn't seem like much of a distraction. It wouldn't end well, that much was for sure.

So, Marshall resigned himself to his normal routine minus one partner. He had quite a bit more free time so he used it to exercise more to raise his endorphin levels and help him sleep better. He pushed himself while cursing his stupidity. Had he not said anything, Mary would merely be on a "stay-cation" and thereby accessible rather than in Can-fucking-cun doing God-knows-what without him.

There was one particularly hard day when Marshall decided he needed a stiff drink. He walked to the bar that was five blocks from his house and ordered himself a whiskey sour from the bartender. He was about six drinks under when a familiar voice came up behind him.

"Rough day?" Marshall kept his eyes on his glass as Bobby came to sit beside him at the bar top. Marshall let out a sardonic chuckle as he signaled to the bartender to bring Bobby a drink. "Where's your partner?" Bobby looked around the bar for Marshall's fair-haired partner and was confused when she wasn't anywhere in sight. "Aren't you two attached at the hip or something?"

"Or something," Marshall mumbled, "Mary is on vacation." The way he said the word 'vacation' gave Bobby the indication that something deeper was going on between the duo.

"I didn't think the word 'vacation' was in Mary's vocabulary," Bobby pressed. Marshall threw back the rest of his drink and signaled the bartender for another. "So, where'd she do?"

"Cancun," Marshall mumbled then lowered his voice so that Bobby had to strain to hear the rest, "all my fucking fault she's there."

Bobby's eyes widened. He had never heard the taller Marshal swear like that; he must be really pissed off.

"What do you mean, 'your fault'? Did you two have a fight?" Bobby was uncertain s to whether or not he wished for all of his interrogations to be with drunks. Marshall's eyes snapped up to meet his. His eyes held a worry that ran deeper than he had ever seen; deeper than when Mary was shot.

"How many cowboys do you think are in Cancun?"

"What's going on, Marshall?" Bobby got serious, "what happened between you guys?"

Marshall lowered his eyes back to his drink. "I may have inadvertently told her how I felt about her," he mumbled before he tossed the remainder of his drink down. He could feel his throat constricting as he thought of the consequences.

"And how do you feel about her?"

"I love her."

"Well then go get her," Bobby clapped his hand against Marshall's back, "go get her and don't let her go."

Marshall was rarely impulsive. He was calculating, strategic, and sometimes, just plain wiley. But here, at 30,000 feet above the Gulf of Mexico, his mind began to sober. He had awoken to the Captain's voiceover the intercom announcing their arrival time at the Cancun airport.

Marshall's palms had since begun to sweat and his knees shook uncontrollably as he recalled the drunken conversation that had gotten him onto this plane. He also remembered that Bobby D had been sober the entire time. He vowed a phone call to the detective as soon as he landed.

Half an hour later, Marshall stood outside the airport; go bag in hand. He now had a decision to make: to go home or to find Mary. He ducked off to the side and dialed Bobby's phone. He answered on the third ring.

"Ello?" Bobby sounded sleepy but Marshall felt no remorse for waking him.

"How the hell could you convince me to hop on a plane to interrupt my partner's well-deserved vacation while drunk?" Marshall ranted and had earned himself a few looks from passers-by, "how could you have possibly thought this was a good idea?" He could practically hear Bobby smiling like a loon on the other end.

"Whoa, you actually did it?"

Marshall nearly dropped his phone as he saw an all too familiar man with salt and pepper hair heading his way. Marshall spun around to avoid being spotted.

"Faber's here," he muttered into the phone, "Shit! I think he spotted me!"

"Who's Faber?"

Marshall didn't have time to respond as Faber had, indeed, spotted him. He wished he had some of that whiskey as he stared down his nemesis.

"Well, hello there, Inspector!" Faber flashed his shit-eating grin, "what brings you to Los Estados Unidos Mexicanos?"

Marshall glared at Faber through narrowed eyes, his forgotten phone dangling from one hand, broadcasting the conversation to a very confused Bobby. Marshall didn't believe in coincidences. There was only one reason Faber was in Mexico and Marshall struggled to hold his anger in check.

"I could ask you the same thing, Agent Faber," Marshall put on his most intimidating voice.

It didn't seem to faze the agent, however, as his grin turned into a sneer. "If that's Mary on the phone, tell her I had a blast but that I'm not looking for anything serious," Faber turned to go and shouted over his shoulder as he walked away, "Sorry, Kitten!"

"Marshall?" came the voice over the phone. Marshall didn't even acknowledge it as he snapped his phone shut and pulled out Mary's itinerary that she had given him in case of emergency.

Marshall knocked on the door after taking himself through some breathing exercises to calm his emotionally exhausted nerves. There was no way in hell he was going to allow himself to lose control during this conversation. He was acting impulsively yet again and had no plan of action.

"What?" cried the angry voice from behind the door.

Marshall made no move to respond and merely knocked again.

"Uno momento, por favor!" she yelled.

He heard rustling from inside the room and the door swung open moments later. Mary stood before him in a dark green sarong and navy bikini top; her hair in a messy ponytail. Her tear stained face registered shock as she launched herself into his arms and hugged him tightly around the neck. He fought tooth and nail against his initial response to hug her back.

"Mare?" she sniffled but made no move to disengage herself from him. Begrudgingly, he moved his hands to her wrists and pried them apart before stepping out of her embrace. She ducked her head down and avoided his gaze until he cupped her chin with his index finger and brought her eyes to meet his. "We need to talk."

Mary simply nodded her head and gestured to her room.

He stood in the doorway as she made her way to the couch in the corner. Mary stopped in the middle of the room when she felt Marshall's piercing gaze bore into her. She whirled around to face him.

"You wanted to talk? Well, go on, talk!"

Marshall sighed and raked his hand through his hair.

Mary stood in the middle of the room with her arms folded across her chest. She glared up at him and he moved to lean against the door in a similar position. He matched her glare to attempt to regain control of the situation.

"I ran into Faber," Marshall didn't intend those to be the first words of this discussion. Mary seemed to give him either a case of word vomit or verbal impotency lately and he didn't like it. He took another deep breath and tried to choose his words carefully.

Mary's eyes went to the floor. Marshall saw her resolve crumble as a tear fell from her eye.

"Why did you come here with him?" Marshall softened his voice to a more gentle and soothing one. He made his way over to Mary and stood in front of her mirroring her position. "Why?" he asked again when she gave no response.

More and more tears began to fall and Mary's shoulders shook with her effort to contain her sobs. "I wanted to forget," she mumbled.

Marshall had to lean in to hear what she was saying, "what did you want to forget about, Mare?" He stood in front of her while straining his ears to understand her words.

Her eyes flashed up to his with unshed tears, "I wanted to forget about you! You and your constant ability to know what I need! I wanted to prove you wrong!" Her face got red and she put her head in her hands before mumbling "I wanted to prove you wrong" over and over.

Marshall's heart broke for her. He leaned forward and pulled her into his arms as he began whispering soothing words into her ear while rocking her back and forth.

"I can't handle another mess in my life, Marshall," she whimpered into his shirt. He tightened his hold on her and kissed her on the top of her head. Her arms found their way around his waist and she clung to him for dear life. "I'm trying to spare you."

Marshall pulled away and his face was inches from hers. He stared directly into her eyes.

"Spare me what? You? I know exactly what I'm getting with you. That was the lamest excuse you could have come up with. You don't think it kills me to have run into Faber in one of the most romantic locations on the planet? You don't think I wanted to strangle him for having had you in a way that I'm not convinced I'll ever get? I understand that you hate messy, I understand that you avoid it because your whole life has been nothing BUT messy. I also understand that messy is what you need. Have I ever been wrong about what you need? Do you really think that little of me that I would put my own selfish desires of a life with you ahead of what would be best for you? That's not what love is, Mare, that's not what love is."

Mary squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head before standing up. She began pacing back and forth while gesturing wildly.

"I can't bring you down with me! My life is mine! I can handle it! I've been alone my whole life, and I just can't bring myself to take you down with me." Mary collapsed in a heap of sobs. Marshall crawled over to her and held her as she cried. Once again, she clung to his shirt and he could feel her tears dampen his clothing. She whispered something into his chest and he couldn't make out what she was saying. He pulled away gently and kissed her temple.

"I'm sorry, Mare, I don't speak mumble," he managed a grin for her sake and was please to see the ghost of a smile on her lips. It was gone as quickly as it came.

"I said that you mean too much to me to risk whatever it is that we would become. I love you too much to lose you." Mary was looking directly into his eyes this time and Marshall was grounded by her sincerity. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers.

"How many times do I have to tell you you're not going to lose me?" He said before brushing his lips against hers. Her lips tasted salty and Marshall was thirsty for more. He felt her hesitate and he pulled back. "You're not going to lose me, Mare, I've always been right here. I will always be right here," he hoped that being repetitive would help ingrain that fact into her mind and would make her stop running.

"It's not fair to you, Marshall. I can't change, I don't know how. I can't be fair to you."

"Then tell me what you need," he said gently.

"Time."

"Then time I shall give you." He squeezed her hand before standing up and moving to get his bag.

"Where are you going?"

"Home, Mare. I'm giving you time and space. Two for the price of one!" he gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. For the first time, she noticed how tired he looked.

"Why don't you stay here tonight? You look exhausted."

"Are you sure, Mare?" He grinned as she made her way to the couch and patted the seat next to her.

"Come on, we'll watch a movie. We can figure the rest out tomorrow." Marshall heaved a sigh of relief as he sat next to her and pulled her against him. He kissed the top of her head and leaned his cheek against it so he could breathe her scent. Mary snuggled closer to him and grabbed the remote. "Let's see what kind of porn they have in Mexico."