Mary Shannon never gave a single thought to the haphazard way she was cramming her clothes into her go-bag. Wrinkles could wait until Albuquerque.
She zipped the bag shut, almost drowning out the sound of the door to her room opening.
He stood in the door way and surveyed the frenzied look on her face and the evidence of packing across the bed.
"Going somewhere?" Marshall tried keeping his voice even, despite the turmoil in his throat.
She looked up and tucked some blonde strands behind her ear. "Yeah. Albuquerque."
He frowned and she met his questioning look with one of her own. "What, Marshall? Think I could stay here and hand-hold forever?"
"Mary," he started, moving towards her the way one would approach a cat ready to bolt.
She shouldered the bag and started thumbing through her cell phone in the same move. "Damned Taxi number…. Its here somewhere."
"Mary," he said again, not yet touching her, instead, blocking her way to the door with his body. If pressed, he knew she would barrel through him, no holds barred. Instead, she stopped and looked up at him; he saw the regret in her eyes clearly before she masked her gaze.
"What happened?" He asked, his voice dropping and the rumble of words seeming to come from his chest.
She shook her head firmly. "Nothing. I've just got shit to do back home."
"Mare," he said firmly, his hand coming out and gripping her shoulder. "Talk to me."
Mary shook her head again. "You've got family stuff. I have my own cluster-fuck of a family to get back to."
Marshall sighed, suddenly knowing that this impromptu change in attitude had to be spurred by something. Someone.
"What did my father say?" he hazard a guess that his father's mouth had been the culprit.
"What makes you think he said anything?" She narrowed her eyes and pulled her shoulder back, trying to wrench it out of his grasp.
He refused to let go. Just like always. For some reason she still couldn't wrap her brain around, he refused to let her run.
"Because he always says something," Marshall answered. "When I was 15, he scared off Sabrina Plaices. After that, it was Katinka who got the rude comment. I'm honestly surprised he didn't say something to you during Operation Falcon."
She looked up at him, Seth's comments fresh in her mind.
"Tomorrow's the reading of the will," Seth had said, his tone hushed in deference to Marshall's sleeping form at Mary's feet. She had taken up a spot on the sofa to watch the home-movies and he had parked himself on the floor at her feet, keeping the slightest of bodily contact between his shoulder and her knee. Now, his quiet and even snore tickled her leg with every breath, his head pillowed against her thigh.
Mary had merely looked at Seth, knowing there was more than a mere statement of schedule.
His next words, however, were not what she expected. "Family only."
She felt the furrow in her brow as she frowned at him, not having expected to be so blatantly excluded. Of course she wouldn't invite herself to such a private event; if Marshall wanted her there, he'd tell her.
Seth continued. "I didn't know Witsec gave such long vacation time when it's the partner's family emergency," he said, clearly making a dig at her still being present, three days later. "Must be nice to get all that time-off."
She must have tensed at his words, because Marshall stirred against her thigh, his hand gripping her knee. "What's wrong?"
Mary had instinctively reached out and smoothed his hair and shushed him. "Nothing. Your dad was just pointing out the time," she replied.
"Bed," Marshall muttered, standing up and pulling Mary with him. She trailed after him, stopping them both at the foot of the stairs, having left Seth behind in the living room. She turned towards the door, only to feel him pull her back into a hug. "Thanks," he had said, kissing her temple. She had smiled sadly up at him before ducking out the front door.
She sighed, blinking herself back into the present. "It doesn't matter, Marshall."
He placed his other hand on her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "It matters to me."
"You had lawyer stuff today," she said, waving off his words with a half-shrug. "You don't need me here. I'm heading back."
"Hey," he lifted her chin again and made sure she was truly watching him. "I need you."
Mary shook her head, freeing his fingers. "No, you don't."
"Hard as it may be to believe, Mary, I'm a glutton for punishment. Your acerbic barbs and dry wit keep me grounded, in a twisted and psychologically dysfunctional way. You being here has kept me from alternating between wringing my dad's neck and falling to pieces." Marshall's words were soft but firm. "There's not another person on this planet that I would have wanted to stand next to me yesterday at the service."
"Maybe someone who didn't cry," she snickered at her reaction to the moving words at the service.
"You see those tears as a weakness. I see them as proof that you're not as dysfunctional as you make yourself out to be," He shook his head. "You held my hand, and stood by my side, Mare, just like you've always done. I'm more thankful for you as a friend and partner than anything else. I just wish you'd get that."
Marshall took a step back and watched her face as she mentally processed his words.
"I get it," she said softly.
He closed his eyes and sighed. "Don't run. I can't chase you right now."
She shifted her bag on her shoulder and took a step towards him, into his space. "I don't want you to." The quick flash of hurt across his face made her continue. "Not right now, anyway. Right now your job is to stay and make it the next two nights without murdering your father. Seriously, I can't bail you out of jail. Don't kill him. I need you."
He sighed and Mary watched as he dropped his chin to his chest, feeling the rejection of her leaving.
"Marshall," Mary reached out and, with shaking fingers, placed a hand on his chest. "I need to go clear my head."
"You can't do that here?"
"We can't both be gone, Marshall. Stan's probably pulling out what's left of his hair."
When he didn't rise to her quip, she frowned at him and continued. "I've had more than my share of partners. I've never had one that kisses me before his mother's funeral service," she arched a teasing eyebrow at him and seeing the faint pink color his cheeks, she continued. "Seth's right; you've got family shit to handle. Let me go home and handle our lives at home."
His eyes met hers. "You sure you're not running from me?"
"I'm done thinking, Marshall." Mary said. She shook her head. "'Messy' can't suck that badly, can it?" Mary rose up on her toes and tentatively brushed her lips across his.
His hands snaked out and cradled the back of her head, increasing the pressure and not letting her pull away. She couldn't seem to keep her hand from slipping around his side and gripping the fabric of the back of his shirt.
His tongue flicked out across her bottom lip and her breath caught in her throat and she pulled away, overwhelmed by the rush from such simple contact.
She cleared her throat and tipped her forehead against his. "Yeah. Messy's not going to suck at all."
Marshall slipped his fingers from her hair, toying with it briefly before she stepped away.
"Will you call me when you land?"
She nodded and tossed a wave over her shoulder.