Sorry for the really long wait guys. Life is crazy, what can I say? But here, without further ado, is the next chapter.
The silence in the car was stifling. Marshall glanced at Mary for the thousandth time in the five minutes that they had been traveling.
"Mary, talk to me."
"No," Mary defiantly declared.
"Mare…."
"I'm only along with churros. Conversation was not included in the terms of negotiation."
Exasperated, Marshall sighed loudly. "Mary, you're not even that mad at me anymore. You're just frustrated about your situation. You see things around you changing and you can't deal with it. You see others changing, becoming happier, and you see your body changing, but you think that you can't change."
Mary pointedly looked out the window, but Marshall stayed silent, letting her formulate her reply.
"Damn it, numbnuts, I hate it when you're right. I'm not mad at you. Well not much, anyway. I'm not even mad at your police officer Barbie. Everything is changing, and it's leaving me behind. Soon you'll be honeymooning in Paris with your bimbo, visiting the Louvre and saying pretentious things like, 'The undercurrent of this painting is almost lyrical', or some other such bullshit. Brandi will be part of the Albuquerque version of The Real Housewives series, and Jinx will be presenting her six-year prodigy to the New York Ballet. You'll move away with the Barbie, and I'll be left alone with Stan, serving him cups of coffee until we're forced to retire."
Casting a bemused look at Mary, Marshall inquired, "Don't you think Stan would rather swim with alligators than ask you to get him a cup of coffee?"
Against her will, Mary chuckled. "I have taught him well."
Marshall took advantage of the moment to slip Mary his news. "And just so you know, Mare, you don't have to worry about me abandoning you to become a European art critic with Abigail for a sidekick. We broke up."
"Why?"
"Well, I just realized that we were different people. We were never going to work out. Abigail wants different things out of life."
Mary snorted, "Bullshit. You guys are like clones of each other, with a few anatomical differences, of course. You could be happy as the eternal nerds, taking the art world by storm and maybe nabbing some bad guys together along the way. Give me a real answer, Mann."
"Abigail asked me to move to Texas with her."
"Bad try, clearly a lie. Miss Texas 2004 told me she loved Albuquerque and looked forward to building her career with her, and I quote, 'Honey-bun."
Marshall winced, "I still can't believe she tried to call me that. No bad-ass lawman wants to be called honey-bun."
"Okay, cowboy, a couple of problems with your answer. A – I don't ever recall anyone calling you a bad-ass lawman. And B – avoid the question much?"
Marshall glared at Mary. "I really hate when you're right, Mare. You know that, right?"
Mary smiled innocently, "Right back at you, cowboy."
"I broke up with Abigail because I was spending time with her that I should've been spending with you. No, Mary, don't interrupt. I wasn't going to spend more time with you out of any sense of obligation or pity. I should've been spending more time with you because every time I was hanging out with Abigail, I wished you were there instead."
Mary's eyes widened. "Why, Marshall? I constantly insult you, I yell at you, I insult your clothes, your hair, and well, generally everything about you. I'm a bitch and I've fucked up every part of my life that wasn't fucked up by the family I was born with. Abigail was sweet and caring in a way that I can never be. Hell, even I would choose Abigail over me, and I think that she's a wormy, snotty, suck-up who couldn't mind her own business if her life depended on it."
Marshall smirked, "And I thought you were starting to like her."
"Well," Mary shrugged, "she had grown on me a little. Like maybe a tenth of a centimeter."
"I would've loved to hear your description of her before."
"You're avoiding the issue, cowboy. Christ, and I thought I was the one with avoidance issues."
Halting at a stoplight, Marshall took the opportunity to look Mary in the eyes. "Abigail is fun to be with, but she could never hold a candle to you. You've been my partner for near ten years now, Mare. No one could ever replace you. Ever. I love your spunk, your sarcasm, your love for your family, your devotion to your job. I know you like no one else does. And I love every aspect of who you are. Every single thing. You can't hide from me behind masks, Mary. I know who you are and I would never try to change anything about you."
Mary, overwhelmed, sat silently in the passenger seat. She couldn't even look at Marshall, afraid that the sight of his earnest face would cause her to tear up. "The light's green, Marshall," Mary whispered.
Sighing, Marshall pulled into the intersection. Running the red light, an SUV barreled into the side of the marshals' vehicle.
