So, this week, I've update Forty Weeks, Her Moment of Weakness and this one! So I hope you enjoy this next chapter- tiny bits of fluff, but the ending won't seem to dramatic if I'm not ending the story here!

Hope you enjoy! Words will be exchanged!

"Give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it. I'd probably just stare, happy just to be there…"

-P!nk, 'Beam Me Up'

"At least show yourself so I can enjoy being absolutely freezing." Marshall teased to the empty room, while he rubbed at his arms to keep warm.

He wrapped himself in his jacket, even though he wanted to shower- he'd rather chat with Mary. He made himself comfortable on his sofa.

"So what's the occasion?" Mary smiled facetiously. "It's not every day I get to see a warm, handsome man in his boxers." She stepped back a little. "I better step back; don't want you getting too cold." She snorted, leaning against the sill of the front window.

"Do you mean they're men where you are?" He questioned, folding his hands so that they covered his lap.

"Only so much can be exposed about what I'm subjected to during the hours I'm not permitted to roam around." Mary scolded. "I know you know better than to ask questions."

"So, you still don't like my curiosity?" He teased.

"No. But, you've certainly peaked mine. What the hell were you about to do?" She asked playfully, stepping forward now for entertainment.

"I was about to bathe. A daily occurrence, but unlike every other day you've decide to show up." He played back.

"Well, I can go…"She said gesturing toward the door as if that were how she would leave if she went. "I don't mean to intrude." Mary added with a grin.

"You're never intruding." He smiled, realizing she had just given a Mary Shannon once over- a skim with the eyes and then a smirk to mark approval. Suddenly, he wasn't so shy anymore. "You never understood that."

"What do you mean?" She questioned with her hands on her hips.

"I mean…" Marshall heaved himself up from the cushion, still wrapped in his coat, and his hands still covering his groin. "It didn't matter when you came here; you always claimed it put me out." He moved closer. "It never did, Mary. I never minded, and I never will." He whispered to her painfully. "The last time especially…"

"We don't need to talk about the last time, Marshall." She stated nervously, advancing further away from him. "Please."

"Okay." He soothed. "We won't."

"I just feel… crazy. You know, when we go there." Mary admitted sadly. "I understand that it was my fault, but—

"Mary, it was not your fault. What happened to you was heart-breaking and you deserve to feel those feelings." He cringed at her expression, wanting her internal guilt to melt away and for her to feel content again. "Aren't you supposed to feel some sort of relief? Isn't that what's supposed to happen when you—

"When you die…" She completed. "You would think—but now, we're living this freaky 'ghost' scenario out and Whoopi Goldberg isn't even here for comic relief." Mary mused, but then her eyes went dark and her expression became serious. "There is no peace when you die like I did." She whispered sadly. "There is no comfort as everyone promised. And unlike everyone's reassurances last year, I didn't get to see what it would have been like to have that kid in my arms. Everything doesn't resolve itself when your heart stops beating- that's still up to you. Unfortunately, for many of us, myself included- we don't know what the hell needs resolving." Mary growled.

"I'm—

"Don't you dare say 'you're sorry'!" She commanded. " I don't ever want to hear those words come from your mouth again! Marshall, you are the last person I need to be apologetic." Mary took a deep breath, the cool air smacked Marshall in the face, and he shivered. "Don't you ever get sick and tired of having chills because of me?" She questioned, watching him carefully as he shook the bout of frigidness from his barely covered body.

"Never." He replied. "I don't realize how cold I feel until you're gone. I'd freeze before it bothered me enough to let you go."

"I'll go when I'm ready." She responded forcefully. "And I'm not ready yet, doofus. What's Stan the Man been up to?" Mary asked, changing the subject.

"You know this and that. He's taken to wearing hats now. For some reason, he's chosen now of all times to become bashful of his hairless scalp. He has this one beret…."

"Stan? In a beret? Are we talking about the same old, short Italian guy?" Mary teased.

"Yep! That Stan!" He smiled. "I guess something snapped in that little, bald head of his. Whatever it was, he has dates now." He continued.

"Dates?! I'm about to keel over of a dead woman's heart attack! Stan?" Mary shook her head in disbelief. "How can he get dates?!"

"I don't know. Apparently, he's quite the ladies' man!" Marshall laughed now.

But, Mary had ceased her chuckling. "Have you thought about dating again?" She wondered innocently.

"Dating?!" He furrowed his brow. "I'm not necessarily sure I'm ready for that, Mary."

"Why not?" She countered. "What would be the harm?"

"I'm not ready!"

"Why the hell not?!" She screamed back.

"BECAUSE I'M NEVER GOING TO LOVE SOMEONE LIKE I LOVED—

"Abigail?" She asked calmly. "You're afraid you're never going to find someone you love as much as you did Abigail?" Mary repeated again, coming closer.

"No. Not Abigail." He muttered, looking up innocently.

"Then… who?"

He glanced at her with the most solemn of smiles. "Always you."

"Marshall…." Mary said slowly. "I- I'm gone." She added.

"I know you're gone."

"But, do you really?" She raised her eyebrows. "Because I'm beginning to think that you believe this is becoming equivalent to what it was when I was alive." Mary admitted.

Marshall frowned. "You think this feels like when you were alive?" He roared. "This is nothing like when you were alive! I can't touch you, and I don't work with you anymore. You're not a phone call away; you're a goddamn dimension or whatever!" He hollered. "I miss you! When I go to work, when I'm all alone, when I see Jinx or Brandi, and even right now- I miss you!" He huffed with rage. "What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to move on?" Marshall whimpered.

"Maybe I should cut all ties." She answered quietly.

"What?"

"I need to go. I think, I think I need to go." She repeated.

"You said you weren't ready… You told me you didn't want to go." Marshall cried. "You can't go!"

"I'm hurting you, Marshall. I'm really hurting you." Mary argued. "I can't take that! I don't need you suffering anymore because of me!"

"But—

"Marshall Mann, you will move on and you will grow up!" She interrupted. "And I will have no part in it! You don't need me. You need to be alone and you need to feel for a little while." She scolded.

"I have been feeling." Marshal replied childishly.

"Not the way you're supposed to be. I beg of you, Marshall take care of yourself, check on Squish and Jinx whenever you get a chance and tell those boys I miss them."

"Mary don't—

"Shhhhh…." She quieted. "I need to say one more thing." Mary Shannon leaned in, gulping the slightest bit. "I love you too."

And then, Marshall was alone again.

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