It was well after noon by the time Chris got out of bed and tried to make himself presentable. The compulsion he felt to talk to Mary hadn't ebbed any since he'd woken up and he'd finally made the decision to do just that. There was some apprehension concerning how she would respond to him after last night, but he had to talk to her. Whatever her reaction, he had to tell her the truth. If he was lucky she'd be as forgiving as his friends. If not, well, at least he would know.

Chris took extra care washing and shaving. He was determined that today Mary would see him looking as straight and sober as possible. His eyes were bloodshot, but as long as he looked like he cared about the other aspects of his appearance, maybe they wouldn't stand out too much. By the time he had dressed and actually screwed up enough courage to leave the boarding house, there wasn't much traffic on the boardwalk. It was odd given the time of the afternoon, but it made the short walk to the Clarion uneventful, for which Chris was grateful. At this moment, Mary was the only person he had any interest in seeing. And he needed to do that before he lost his nerve and was tempted to seek out the bottom of another bottle.

When he got to the newspaper office he reached to open the door and paused, wondering if he should knock. It was a place of business and no one else would knock, but after last night simply walking in almost felt like an intrusion. But standing outside knocking on the door of an open business was ridiculous. Taking a deep breath he finally turned the knob, rapping on the door as he opened it.

"Just a minute," Mary called out from the back.

As bad as he felt he couldn't help but smile. Her voice could do that to him. He heard her footsteps on the wooden floor as she started to come up from the back.

"How can I help . . . ." Mary stopped short, both her steps and her words when she saw him. "Chris."

"Mary." Chris took off his hat. "Is Billy here?"

"No, he's at the Potter's. Do you need him?"

Chris shook his head, glad that at least one thing was going in his favor. He loved the kid, but he'd rather the boy not be around for this. "No, I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a minute?"

For a moment, she looked as though she would refuse but finally nodded. "Of course." Despite the affirmation, she went over to her desk and began straightening things up. Chris waited for her to finish, but after a couple of minutes he realized hat wasn't going happen; she was using the loose papers as an excuse to not look at him.

"Mary?"

Mary continued her idle motions. "Yes?"

"Mary, would you stop that and look at me?"

She stopped but didn't turn. Chris sighed, after what he'd done maybe that was the best he could hope for. She was willing to listen if nothing else. "About last night . . . ."

Mary whirled around. "It's fine. You don't have to explain anything."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't. You were drunk and I . . . . It . . . it's fine."

"No, it's not."

Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Please, Chris. Let's forget it. The sooner we do the better off we'll be."

She tried to walk away and Chris held onto her arm. "I don't want to forget it. Do you?" He realized he was asking a dangerous question. What would he do if she said yes? He couldn't forget how right it had felt to hold her, and he wasn't sure he could continue to live here, with her so close, knowing she didn't feel . . . something.

Mary didn't answer but her stance relaxed.

Chris released her arm and spoke again. "It shouldn't have happened that way. I'm sorry."

Mary finally faced him. "It's alright, Chris. Apology accepted."

"I'd like to try to explain some things if you'll let me."

Again he sensed her hesitation, but she nodded. "Alright. Just give me a few minutes to close up."

Chris nodded and quietly waited while Mary put a few things away and locked the front door. "Would you like to go upstairs and have some coffee?" she asked as she hung her apron up.

"Sounds good."

The trek up to the apartment was made in silence and once they arrived Mary immediately set about the task of putting the coffee on. Chris had the feeling the coffee was another stalling technique, but he wasn't going to hold it against her. What was coming was going to be awkward, there was no way around it.

While Mary was occupied, Chris decided to take advantage of the moments he had and tried to think of what he was going to say, and how he was going to say it. Should he expound on what had happened last night? Mary had said she accepted his apology; maybe he should let it go at that. After all, what else was there to say, sorry I made drunken advances and repeatedly asked you to sleep with me? Perhaps things were better left where they were.

He didn't have a lot of time to sort through things before Mary brought a cup of coffee over and handed it to him with a weak smile. It wasn't the first cup of coffee they had shared, but Chris couldn't help but wonder if it was going to be the last.

"Should we sit down?" she asked indicating the settee in the sitting area of the room.

Chris nodded and followed her over, sitting only once she had. For a minute neither spoke, neither seemed all that interested in coffee either. Mary finally cleared her throat. "There was something you wanted to talk about?"

Sighing Chris set his coffee down. "Yeah." Leaning forward he propped his elbows on his knees, unsure of how to begin.

"And?"

Chris smiled slightly at the tone of her voice. Awkward of not, it sounded like she was ready to get started. Or perhaps she was in a hurry to get it over with. Either way, he needed to say something. He took a deep breath. "I was drunk last night, Mary. I know that's not really a good excuse, but believe me, what I said . . . it wouldn't have happened if I'd been sober."

"I know," Mary replied softly.

Chris met her eyes. "Sorry doesn't seem like much when it comes to makin' up for it, but I am sorry."

A smile even weaker than before came to Mary's face. "You said that. And I said I accepted."

"I know. Just wanted to do it right."

"You did fine the first time. You're forgiven."

"Thank you," Chris said, relieved to have that done, but still apprehensive about what was to come. "I hope you still feel that way after the rest of the story." He'd made his decision only now. If he really wanted to tell Mary he loved her and have even a small chance of it being accepted, he needed to tell her everything. Everything.

"The rest of the story?" Mary now looked confused. "What's rest of the story?"

"Ella," he said bitterly, hating to even say her name.

"The woman who . . . ."

"Yeah. When I was younger we . . . well, we were more than friends. I was young, dumb, and reckless back then and she didn't do much to rein me in. Actually, she encouraged it." He paused there giving Mary the chance to say something; when she didn't he went on.

"We were together almost two years, and lookin' back I don't know how we survived most of it. I wasn't raised to act the way I did durin' most of that time, and one day I finally started to wise up. I started to realize I was gonna get myself killed if somethin' didn't change. I also noticed something about being with her felt . . . wrong. I decided it'd be best if we went our separate ways. I talked to her about it and she agreed."

Chris leaned forward again, thinking about that day. Ella had agreed. She hadn't been happy about it, but she hadn't fought him, hadn't begged; hadn't cried. She'd seemed more disappointed than anything. She certainly hadn't acted in a way that would have ever made him believe she was obsessed with him, or that she was capable of doing what she had done. "I left the next day and that was the last time I saw her until she came to town." That was the last time he had seen her, but he was now wondering if that had been the last time she had seen him? Had she kept track of him all those years? Maybe she never really had let him ride away. The thought she could have been that possessive, that she would have kept up with him for more than a decade put a knot in his stomach and for a second, he felt queasy.

"When she came to town, I left to help an old friend." He straightened and looked at Mary again. "That's all. Anything else . . . I never dreamed it would happen."

"You didn't know, Chris. You can't blame yourself. I certainly wouldn't have thought she was capable of that."

There was sympathy in Mary's eyes as she spoke. Chris knew she was referring to the murders, but that wasn't what Chris had been talking about. He wondered how long the sympathy would last when she found out how quickly Ella had gone from old friend to lover. "How much has Buck told you?" he asked. He knew his oldest friend had talked to Mary a few times since they had come back.

"He told me Miss Gaines was the one you'd been looking for. And he's told me some of what happened the morning you were shot."

There was a gleam of hurt in her eyes and Chris' heart sank when he saw it. She did know about him and Ella, or at least she suspected something. Doubtless he had Buck and his big mouth to thank for that. There was a time he would have gotten mad at Buck for running his mouth like that, but at this moment, Chris couldn't blame him. This mess hadn't been easy for Buck either, and Buck was the kind that liked to talk about his problems. Chris had always blamed the trait on Buck being raised with so many women. Whatever the reason, once Buck got started, he didn't always stop easily, and Lord knew Chris hadn't been in any shape to listen to him lately. Maybe he should be grateful he wasn't having to reveal all this to Mary for the first time.

"I was thinkin' about quittin', about stayin' with her." He'd done more than think about it and admitting it to Mary now brought that familiar feeling of shame back.

The answer was barely above a whisper. "I know."

Chris watched the woman he claimed to love, the woman he had hurt. Her eyes were downcast, intently studying her hands while she picked at one of her nails. He still didn't fully understand how Ella had gotten him to turn against everyone who really cared about him. She had a special talent he supposed. He didn't deserve any of the understanding he'd been shown, especially by Mary, but he was going to ask for a little more anyway. He was going to finish this. "Mary, I've got somethin' to say and I just want you to listen. When I'm done, if you never want to talk to me again, I'll understand. But please listen."

"Chris . . . ."

"Please."

She lifted her eyes. "Alright."

"I went with Ella because she was an old friend and I thought she needed help. I didn't plan on it becomin' anything else."

"You don't owe me an explanation, Chris. You're a grown man; you can keep company with whoever you want." The hurt was still in her eyes, but her chin had regained that proud tilt. It was a look that brought him both pleasure and pain. She was always so strong, and always so much of a woman; too good a woman for him.

"Yes, I do," he insisted. "And I'm gonna to do my best to give you one. I miss my wife, I miss my son; I miss being married. But the thought of doing it again, of losing all that again, it scares me to death. I don't love her, Mary. I didn't love her; that made her safe. Losing Sarah and Adam hurt so bad because . . . because I did love them. I didn't have to worry about that with Ella. I could pretend that I loved her and feel like I had a woman, without riskin' all that again. I shouldn't have done it. It was selfish and I hurt a lot of people. People I should have thought more of; people I love."

Mary had been looking him in the eye, but at that last comment, she drew in a sharp breath and jerked her head around.

"Mary," he said softly cupping her cheek and turning her face towards him again. "Last night I said a lot of things I shouldn't have, but that wasn't one of them. I do love you. I'm sorry it took me so long to get it out."

Mary began to blink back tears. When she tried to look away Chris let her. He didn't know whether her silence was good or bad or how she would look at him after this, but he had one more thing to say. "I was a coward, and because of that, I hurt you. Sorry don't count for much, but there's nothin' else I can say. Like I said if you never what to see me again, I understand. I don't deserve another chance, but I had to tell you the truth. I love you."

Mary was now leaning forward, very much like he had been earlier. Her eyes were closed and she had yet to say a word. Chris took that as his cue to leave. He'd done what he came to do; there was no sense in hanging around any longer. If Mary was going to forgive him she would, if not, well, there certainly wasn't a reason for him to be here. He walked to the door, trying not to be too disappointed. He'd put her through a lot the last twenty-four hours; the last couple of months really. If she needed some time he should be willing to give it to her. If she simply wanted him to go he should be willing to do that too.

He was almost to the door when she stopped him. "Chris."

He paused, his heart skipping a beat. This was either good, or she'd finally collected herself enough to tell him off. He slowly faced her.

Mary was standing, her eyes shining with tears. "Wait."

A/N: There's still one more coming. I thought Mary deseverd have own chapter when she's gives Chris her response.