AN: I strongly recommend re-reading chapter 24 before reading this one. They started out as one chapter but it got too long so I posted the first half separately even though it's still basically one chapter.

Marshall couldn't concentrate on the fish swimming around him.

He had begged Mary to let him look around the aquarium. She had agreed after extracting a promise from him to fill out the travel related paperwork, even though they were dealing with her witness. He had agreed grudgingly. But it now seemed like it was going to be a wasted trip and Mary was going to get out of her bureaucratic headache for no reason.

Mary's words echoed in his head, distracting him from the sting rays even as he explained to Mary how sting rays used electro-receptors to detect the prey they couldn't see.

"You gotta go the way your blood beats."

The trouble with Mary was, she thought just because blood gets diverted on occasion, that's where you should follow it.

xxx

Mary glared at the waitress as she walked past them again and still didn't deliver their breakfasts.

"But, why?" Marshall refocused Mary's attention on the conversation.

"Coz I'm sick of it. That's why."

"Okay."

There was a pause; Marshall's acceptance of her earlier statement hung in the air.

"What? Is that it? No witty comeback? No explanation as to how it's biologically impossible?"

"Nope."

Mary narrowed her eyes to regard Marshall.

"You don't think I can do it!" she declared.

Marshall didn't say anything.

"You don't think I can go a month without sex!" Mary sounded surprised at Marshall's lack of faith in her self control.

"I didn't say that," he tried to defend himself, albeit belatedly. The heartbeat pause before his denial gave him away.

"You didn't need to," Mary said despondently.

They lapsed into silence for a while, aided by the waitress finally bringing their breakfasts over. Mary continued to watch Marshall surreptitiously throughout the meal.

"You do it," Mary grumbled after a few minutes.

"Do what?" Marshall asked around a mouthful of pancake.

"Go without sex."

Marshall almost choked as he tried to swallow his mouthful.

"W-w-what?" he stammered when he could finally breathe. "W-w-why do you think that?"

"Oh, come on, stop being such a prude. We both know it's just been you and your five fingered friend since..."

"You're wrong," Marshall cut in.

Mary smirked. "Really? When was the last time you actually got laid?"

"I date," he said, trying not to rise to the bait and giver her more ammunition about his love life.

"I'm not talking about dates, I'm talking about sex. Hot, sweaty, banging the headboard sex!"

"I know, and like I said, I date."

Marshall emphasised the word date slightly, leaving Mary in no doubt as to what a date with him entailed. She smirked again, thinking she had won that round and tried to picture her nerdy partner making a woman's toes curl.

Marshall could see where Mary's thoughts were heading and let her think on it for a while. More and more recently, he'd been wanting her to see him as a man and not just her lap-dog or lackey. He was a man with desires, urges and a life outside work she knew very little about. Every so often he would remind her of this, but it was now becoming more important to him for her to stop seeing him as some androgynous figure in her life.

At some point over the last year and a bit, the friendship had deepened. As Mary had let him into the darker parts of her life, Marshall had discovered the treasure hidden beneath Mary's brash exterior. At first he had dismissed the feeling as awe and smug satisfaction at being the only one allowed a glimpse past her defences, but once the elation of succeeding where no one else had had worn off, the feeling was still there. It had taken him a while to identify it and while he was trying, it had continued to grow as Mary offered him a little bit more of herself, a piece at a time. By the time the feeling had a name, it was too late. Marshall had somehow landed himself in a whole load of trouble by falling in love with his partner.

Once he had admitted that to himself, he had come up with a three-step plan: 1) Get Mary to trust and rely on him. 2) Get Mary to realise she needed him. 3) Ask her out.

It was simple. It was perfect. And it was going to take forever.

Four months later and he was still on step one.

Hell, he thought, I've been on step one for the last three years.

Getting Mary to trust him was a slow process, one that was incremental in nature and often in the opposite direction to the one he wanted it to go. Still, strategy was his forte and patience was his virtue. He was prepared to settle in for a long game and it was finally time for him to make his next move.

"And why aren't you talking about dates?" he asked, turning the conversation back onto her. "What's wrong with dating? You talk about your...conquests," he grimaced at the word, "...all the time, but you never mention the date part of the evening. Or do you just skip that bit entirely?"

"Nooo..." Mary drawled. "I make them take me out first..."

"How many times?"

Mary studied her plate intently.

"That's what I thought," Marshall said, picking up his knife and fork to finish his breakfast. "You barely know these men, yet you expect them to fulfil your every desire. It's no wonder not all of them manage to please you the way you want."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if you took the time to get to know someone first. To build an emotional connection, even, then maybe you wouldn't find sex so empty."

"So I can't have sex until I have an emotional connection with someone? You know how many people that's applied to over the last ten years? One. You. So I can either have sex with you, or never again?" Mary asked scornfully. "Yeah, no thanks. I think I'll stick with the empty sex."

Mary stood and went to pay at the till. As she passed Marshall, she paused.

"Thanks, Marshall, you really know how to put things in perspective," she said, slapping Marshall on the shoulder. Marshall flinched at the touch. He'd been hoping to edge her onto another path, to plant the idea in her mind, but she seemed to think that living a life of celibacy would be preferable to sleeping with him.

He watched her as she waited impatiently for the waitress. He saw the instant something caught her attention and looked over at the man. He was tall, Hispanic and looked like he spent more time working out than working. Marshall looked back at Mary, wondering if his words had had any effect on her or if she had forgotten them already. He was surprised to see her glance back at him, as if for confirmation or reassurance, he couldn't tell. He then watched in resignation as the man approached Mary.

xxx

They were an hour out of Houston when the silence and weight of the decision ahead of her finally made Mary break. She had no one else to turn to and needed another opinion. Even if it was biased.

"Do you think I should get back with Raph?" she asked Marshall as he drove..

"No!" screamed Marshall's heart, but it was drowned out by his head. He waited until both sides of him had settled down before giving Mary the answer he knew she needed to hear.

"It's not my decision, Mare. Only you can answer that question."

He glanced over and saw her watching him intently. He hoped he hadn't given himself away with his hesitation and non-committal answer. Mary appeared satisfied with his answer and returned to staring out the passenger window.

Marshall assumed she was wrestling with the answer to her question, until she asked, "Do you want to go fishing next weekend?"

Marshall glanced at her several times in quick succession while trying to work out what she meant. His mind simultaneously travelled down word-association pathways and searched his memories for any connections to translate Aphasic-Mary.

Mary looked over when Marshall didn't answer after a few seconds. She recognised the look on his face and chuckled.

"That wasn't aphasic, that was a genuine question, Numbnuts," she said, still chuckling.

Marshall relaxed. Even after all this time, he still tensed up at any reminder of Mary's injury and each occurrence of her aphasia.

"You spend the afternoon in an aquarium and come out wanting to go fishing. Did the fish upset you, Mare?" he joked.

Mary laughed, "Do you want to go fishing next weekend or not?"

Marshall didn't answer instantly. He looked at her again, frowning as he did so, before asking, "Why would I want to do that?"

"I don't know. I was thinking about that stupid bet we made and ..."

"Which bet?" Marshall interrupted.

"The day I met Raph. You bet me I couldn't go three dates without sleeping with him. That's why I turned him down."

Marshall shook his head slowly. "I don't remember that, Mare."

Mary stared at him as if he had grown another head. "'Course you do. You said if I didn't go on at least three dates before jumping him, then I had to go fishing with you."

"That's not what I remember," Marshall repeated slowly. "Why would you turn down a date if you needed three sex-free dates to get out of a fishing trip?" he pointed out.

Mary thought about that for a moment.

"What do you remember?" Mary asked, curious that he would question her memory. He knew she could remember seemingly irrelevant details from days that mattered to her, so there was obviously a reason behind him choosing to question her memory of this event.

"I remember you turning him down then trying to bait me into accepting a bet. Any bet. I believe the terms started at going a month without sex, then reduced to three dates. And you were the one that suggested the forfeit."

Marshall looked at Mary to see her listening intently with a puzzled look on her face.

"I don't even like fishing," he continued. "You just seem to think I do."

Marshall let Mary take in this new information for a moment.

When he could see Mary was about to go crazy questioning her recollection of that day, he offered, "But if you want me to take you fishing, I will."

Mary looked at him. She knew he had only said that to snap her out of her rapid downward spiral, but even in his joke there was a serious offer. If she wanted to go fishing, Marshall would go with her despite his apparent dislike of the activity.

Was there anything he wouldn't do for her? she wondered as they continued to drive toward home and the awaiting dilemma of what to do about Raph.

xxx

Mary watched the fish Dom had given her swim around the bowl.

Her thoughts circled in ways that mimicked the fish. They kept circling back to the night before, to Marshall's reaction when she told him about sleeping with Raph, to the day she met Raph, and to places she wished it wouldn't go.

Memories of events recent and far past rose unbidden and Mary wondered if what they said about fish was true. Did they really have three-second memories? What would that be like? she wondered.

What would it be like to have forgotten everything in her life and to have to start from scratch? Which relationships would she have chosen to rebuild if she had lost her memories rather than her speech in the wake of Carmello's bullet?

She knew she would have struggled with her family; she knew she would never be able to abandon them, no matter what happened to her, but she suspected that she would have spent a significant portion of her recovery questioning how she was related to them when they were so different. But would they be different? Would she be so different from them without the memory of her dad leaving and the years of hardship? Perhaps she would be more like Brandi if she hadn't had to be the adult from a young age.

Mary shuddered at the thought and a memory of Shelley came back to her. Something about still being who you were even if you didn't know who you were. Reassured slightly, Mary promised herself that she would be nicer to Shelly the Shrink next time she saw her. A ghost of a smile flitted across Mary's face at the alliteration in the name Shelley the Shrink. A more lingering smile appeared as she considered that Marshall had penetrated her mind thoroughly enough that she had no trouble recalling the word alliteration, even as she still struggled with everyday words like pyjamas and timetable.

Marshall.

There was one relationship she would definitely want to rebuild if she had lost all her memories. His analogy about renting a room was more true than she cared to admit. Except, Marshall hadn't so

much rented a room as brought a plot of land and constructed a two storey home with room for horses out back. As she thought about it, she found it easy to visualise the type of house he would build – a sprawling, ranch-style home to symbolise his relaxed nature, with plenty of room for visitors or kids, a thought she quickly shied away from. What the horses symbolised, she didn't know. She had no idea if Marshall could actually ride or if the cowboy boots were just for show. After finding out his dislike of fishing, an assumption she had obviously made when she had first met him and had only just realised wasn't true, she was wary about making any more assumptions.

Maybe they could have a fish pond, she thought. Or, at least, a bigger bowl for her betta, the first pet she had owned since her pet rock. The betta certainly was prettier than the rock, but the rock had made a good projectile with which to hit Robert Kwarmee, so she couldn't attest to which was the most vicious pet.

"Pretty," she said, admiring the fish circling lazily in its bowl.

"And vicious," Dom pointed out.

"Remind you of anyone?"

She looked at Marshall and smiled softly. "Thanks."

Had Marshall been flirting with her when he said that? She hadn't noticed at the time, she had just taken it as a compliment, but as she considered it, she couldn't remember any other time Marshall had complimented her openly. Especially not in front of someone, a witness no less. He often came to her defence after she had stormed out a room in frustration – he would take a moment to point out in what ways she was right, or tell the person frustrating her how good she was at her job, but he never said anything to her face.

She laughed as she realised she was seriously considering that Marshall had been flirting with her. Jesus, was she so desperate that she was reading things into a simple compliment that didn't exist. Marshall had never shown any interest in her.

Liar, a voice at the back of her mind whispered.

Okay, she admitted, maybe he had once or twice. There had been that kiss in the stable. He had definitely shown an interest in her then, although he had dismissed it as a natural response and Mary had assumed he would have been ready to throw down with anyone at that moment. It hadn't been long after that he had hooked up with the overly adventurous professor and scratched that itch. Mary had mostly forgotten about that stolen kiss, but now she could recall all too clearly the sensation of his lips on hers, the warmth of his hands and their firm grip on her.

A tremor passed over and through her body at the remembered sensations.

No wonder she had ended up sleeping with Raph the night before if she was horny enough to get all hot and bothered by a kiss that happened almost two years ago.

Raph.

She still wasn't entirely sure what she had been thinking the night before when she had called Raph. She had been confused when she had seen him laughing with another woman. A rush of emotions had swept over her and she was still trying to identify them. Dom's constant chatter about how badly he wanted to get married and have a normal life hadn't helped. It had thrown into stark relief how close she had come to having everything she was supposed to want. Her mom had been so happy for her. Yet she had managed to screw it up.

Then to compound things, she had done the one thing she had always promised herself she would never do – make a booty call to an ex. She had known it was a bad idea, how it only ever made things worse. More complicated. But she had done it anyway.

In the morning, she couldn't face him. She could barely face herself. So she had crept out quietly, much as she had done most mornings while they were in a relationship. She had crept away to work. To Marshall, who always understood her and never judged her. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him about what she had done the night before. She knew now about his dislike of Raph and hadn't wanted to face his disappointment in her. He would try to hide his disappointment, but she would see it. Had seen it, because of course she hadn't needed to tell him about Raph. He had known anyway.

The disappointment had been written across his stance, in the way he didn't meet her eyes as he said, "I know."

It had forced her to admit she was disappointed in herself as well. She had let herself down. Let Marshall down.

She couldn't help but think it was a poor way to repay a friend: Marshall had proven himself to her over and over again. She had come to realise that over the last few months. In the days immediately after her shooting, he had been the only person she had felt comfortable with and the only one capable of understanding her. She hadn't forgotten that. The sensation of not being able to communicate still haunted her at night. Those were the nights she had crept out of bed and called Marshall, just to hear his voice.

She also wasn't oblivious to the fact he was the only one that saw what little of her aphasia remained. She had noticed the shift in its occurrences to when she was relaxed and she had spent several evenings puzzling over how Marshall always seemed to around when she was relaxed enough not to care if she mixed up her words before she had realised which was the cause and which the effect.

She had always shied away from thoughts of something more with Marshall, especially when she had been in a relationship with Raph. But even then, there had been times when she had wondered what it would be like to be in an easy relationship, one she didn't have to work at constantly, and every time her mind had provided her of an image of Marshall.

Marshall would be easy to be with. She knew that. She only had to look at their friendship, something she had been doing a lot recently, to see how easy it would be. But she was never one to take the easy path in life. She had had to fight her entire life and taking the easy option felt like surrender. She hadn't been ready to surrender.

Somehow, though, it no longer felt like surrender. She had had too many other battles to fight since she had been shot. Now she could distinguish between surrender and a tactical retreat.

She had almost surrendered to the aphasia.

Only Marshall had saved her from defeat. He had made her rally the troops and re-enter the battle. She had stared surrender in the face and Marshall had pulled her back.

She owed him for that alone.

She owed him for so much more than that.

She needed to show Marshall that she listened to him and took his feelings into consideration. That she could be a good friend too. That was the least she owed him.

She had tried to demonstrate that with her offer of a fishing trip, only to find that she didn't know him as well as he knew her.

As the fish circled the bowl once more, Mary idly wondered if their positions had been reversed, whether she would have been able to understand Aphasic-Marshall as easily as he appeared to understand her. She doubted it. Marshall had always been the more sensitive one in their relationship, a fact she took advantage of on occasion. She had been trying to be better recently. To be a better friend. She had asked him about his hobbies more and listened when he explained the difference between origami and kirigami. She had thanked him when he lent her his car. It didn't feel like enough, though. She wanted to do something nice for him. To show him she appreciated him.

As she tried to think of things he liked that they could do together, there was one thing that she kept returning to.

Marshall didn't like Raph.

He had admitted his dislike of Raph a while ago and Mary suspected there was more to the exchange of words they had shared in the hospital than just frayed nerves and short tempers, but Mary had been too focused on her own recovery to delve deeper. She had accepted the animosity once she had seen it and tried to keep the two men in her life apart even more rigorously than she had before. Today, she had seen his hesitation when she had asked his opinion about getting back together with Raph, but his actual answer had only had her interests at heart. She hadn't pushed him further, knowing that he didn't want to tell her to get back with Raph, yet would never tell her to end it with him. That demonstration of selflessness, on top of all the others she had recently been remembering, had prompted her to offer a weekend of fishing, just the two of them. She was almost warming to the idea when he had stolen the rug from under her feet. She was still struggling with the idea that Marshall didn't like fishing – the man who like everything.

There was one thing she was sure about his opinion on, though. And one thing she could give him even if he would never ask for it.

Decision finally made, she reached for her phone to call Raph.

That's all from me this side of Christmas, so I hope everyone has a lovely holiday, and I'll be back in the new year with the remaining four chapters of this story.

Merry Christmas, all!