Shockingly, I still don't own anything. Therefore - standard disclaimer still applies. :-/
OH and it occurs to me that I am a horrible, horrible friend and forgot to thank my wonderful Beta Jen for all the awesomeness she provides. HUGS to Jen.
Read. Review. It'd make me happy. Please.
The key turned in the door and she resisted the desire to flinch and reach for her glock. Only one other person had a key and she had all but invited him.
She kept the patchwork quilt tucked around her lap and remained propped up in the window seat, fluffy pillows behind her.
Mary felt his gaze settle on her and she turned and met him with a sad smile.
He stood in the doorway, hands buried in his pockets. "Couldn't sleep."
She merely nodded, waiting for him to finally move into the room. The door shut quietly behind him and the darkness of the room seemed stifling.
"I think the Murphy's were shocked to see me come in at this hour," he muttered. "My reputation as a good southern boy just got shot to hell."
Mary arched a brow as his 'good southern boy' comment, watching as he settled onto the edge of her bed. They were both bathed in the moonlight that came through the glass. She hadn't been able to sleep and had bundled up on the window seat with a book. She fingered the leather bound cover still in her lap.
"What are you reading?"
She flipped the tome over and regarded the spine. "Gone with the Wind," she replied with a half-shrug. "I haven't read it since high school. I had forgotten what a pain in the ass Scarlet could be."
Marshall smirked. "She's a tough girl. She knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it. There's something admirable there."
"Until she starts to run over the only people in her life that put up with her bullshit," Mary countered, knowing that they weren't just talking about the book anymore. She shifted slightly on the window seat, turning towards him. "I, um, I didn't mean to intrude, Marshall. If you need me to leave, I will."
He stared out the window, his eyes not really focusing on the giant Willow Oak in the yard. "You're not intruding. But if you need to return to your vacation, I'll understand."
The unspoken hung heavy in the air. Thanks for making the gesture. Go back to him if you want to.
She shook her head and stood, moving and sitting tentatively next to him on the bed's edge. "I'm right where I want to be."
He dropped his head, his chin to his chest and she watched him shudder as he repressed another round of sobs.
"God, Marshall, I'm sorry," she whispered, knowing the words wouldn't bring his mother back. Knowing his ache for the loss of a parent. "I…" she stumbled, not sure how to repair their friendship and help him through this at the same time. Damned if she hadn't screwed up royally and now had to clean up her mess at the most inopportune time.
On impulse, she slipped her hand over his resting on his thigh. She laced their fingers together and waited for him to pull away. His grip tightened on hers and she felt her shoulders relax in the knowledge that she wouldn't be rejected right this minute.
"The service is Tuesday," he said, his voice shaking. "Nothing fancy – mom hated pretention."
"Would you like me to come?" she asked, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. When was the last time she asked him what he needed?
Her professional life was about taking charge; finding out the needs of her witnesses and making it happen. Her personal life- well that was a giant cluster. The idea struck her that maybe asking what someone else needed would be a good practice for her next relationship; maybe that's what it would take to keep it out of the toilet.
Marshall simply nodded in reply, squeezing her fingers ever so slightly.
She cleared her throat and decided to take a page straight from his book. "Tell me what you need."
She watched as his shoulders straightened, clearly shocked at hearing those words come from her mouth. He swallowed and opened his mouth and then closed it quickly. "Can I take a rain-check on that? I think I need some time before I know what I need."
"As much time as you want," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Not back to Mexico?" The hurt was clear in his voice and she had the good grace to blush at his pointed dig.
"For the record," she said defensively, sliding her hand out of his and watching his posture change from the corner of her eye. "You didn't lie to your mother."
He frowned at her, confused. She stood from the bed and stepped back towards the window. "I didn't fuck Faber," she elaborated, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "It was an option," she added in an effort to be completely honest. "It just didn't happen."
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, the pain thinly veiled in his voice.
"Because you deserve to know," she swallowed the lump that had suddenly and unexpectedly taken place in her throat. And so much more than I give you. "You should know that I didn't invite him – he kind of followed me. You should know that I didn't sleep with him." She snickered. "I tried. But it just…Jesus." she shrugged. "I couldn't do it."
He looked at her, meeting her gaze full-strength. The 'Why' was clearly asked on his face and she was silently begging him to not push, knowing that this wasn't the time.
"Can we talk about this more later?" He questioned.
She nodded, her gaze skittering out the window. The eye contact had become too intense for her and she had to adjust her focus to regain her footing.
"Mare?"
She turned back to him, only to find that he had risen from the bed and stood inches from her.
They moved towards each other on instinct built from years of partnership. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly to his chest and she did the same. She felt his cheek rest on top of her head and she closed her fingers around his shoulders, pulling him tight.
"Thanks for coming," he said, his manners always in full-force.
She smiled, the gentle thrum of his heart beat under her ear. "I told you Doofus, I'm right where I want to be."
