*** Did she go with Raph? We know she doesn't want to burden Marshall, and she wants to be fair...ultimately...to Raph. ***
*** I have to say, the outpouring of reviews was unprecedented and so exciting!! Maybe I should cliff hang you all more often?? ...nah. ***
"If I stand here, I can see the Little Red Haired girl when she comes out of her house... Of course, if she sees me peeking around this tree, she'll think I'm the dumbest person in the world... But if I don't peek around the tree, I'll never see her... Which means I probably AM the dumbest person in the world... which explains why I'm standing in a batch of poison oak."
-- Charlie Brown
"Do not underestimate the determination of a quiet man."
– Iain Duncan Smith
The blue light of the TV screen flickered through the room, highlighting the small knicknacks tucked into corners and shelves here and there. A stylized, multicolored armadillo that screamed 'across the border', little pieces of bamboo meticulously built into a 1/1000th scale rendition of some temple, the baseball in the glass case with signatures of men she had never heard of. Every item portraying some travel, some dream; a lifetime of adventure captured in static pieces of material.
Mary thought of her destroyed momentos with sadness. She doubted anyone ever looked at some of them twice; a framed letter, two tickets tucked into a playbill, a wooden box with smooth, round rocks inside. Innocuous items with more value than their intrinsic worth. It had been hard to hold onto the pieces of her life as Jinx moved them repeatedly through the years, sometimes more than once within a week. Mary tried to keep all her treasures in a threadbare backpack along with the clothes she and Brandi owned. She closed her eyes in remembrance of the day she discovered a small hole in the corner of the sack. Two coins and a doll's head gone. Junk by anyone else's standard, but she cried herself to sleep that night because of the loss.
Now her memories were kept with unwanted birthday cards, folded letters and silly trinkets from a silly man. She still had the backpack; held together by duct tape and safety pins.
Scooting further down into the couch, Mary contemplated the shadows on the ceiling as she listened to the silence. How many times had she wished for quiet in her life? To go home and sit without the sound of another living being intruding on her thoughts, her anger, her sadness. Now, as she sat in the living room with the TV volume off, all she could hear were the echoes of pain in her head. Blame. Doubt. Grief. A cacophony of emotions that neither faded away with comfort nor ceased in their chatter with sleep. She needed to quiet them; put them away in their cubbyholes until she called them out willingly. Marshall would probably attach some obscure latin name to her mental musings, give them legitimacy by peer review. Mary just figured she was slowly going crazy. It was bound to happen sometime.
A door closed down the hall and Mary listened to the footsteps approach the living room. She didn't move, comfortable as promised and content to continue to stare at nothing. Quiet.
"You look sad," he said. "Did you change your mind?"
Mary moved her feet slightly to let another warm body join her on the couch. "No. I just feel bad for hurting him. I saw it on his face even though he assured me it was okay. I don't think he expected it. It's just…" she trailed off and rubbed her face.
"He cares about you."
"Yeah." Mary sighed.
Marshall pulled her feet onto his lap and aimlessly stroked her calf. "Do you need to go over there? I'll take you. I won't like it, but I'll take you."
She half smiled at him. Self sacrificing fool. "No. I'm where I want to be. And anyway, Raph's scared of vampire movies."
"Lucky Raph," Marshall drawled, reluctantly picking up the DVD remote to start Mary's movie.
"Oh come on, nitwit. You know you like the whole Titty Twister thing. And I see you adjust your jeans when that snake dance comes on."
Marshall shot her a sideways glance, "What? You're delusional. I don't adjust my jeans until she puts her foot in that guy's mouth."
He was satisfied by Mary's grimace and warded off her kick to his ribs with a chuckle. "God, pervis, remind me to keep my feet out of your lap for that part."
Capturing her feet again, Marshall tucked the blanket around them and fast forwarded through the previews. Sighing, he subjected himself to exploding vampires and the weirdly creepy female lead for two hours. He'd do it for her, he thought, watching Mary smile at the intro scenes.
His gut had clenched when she told him about Raph's offer. There was some comfort in knowing she had never seriously considered it, but he also knew her mind wandered to the ball player for other things. It was only a matter of time before she began pushing the limits of her physical needs. After six years, Marshall had no delusions about the defining aspects of Mary's sexuality. She used sex for control and pure pleasure; rarely for comfort or emotional bonding. It was a tool. Something she did well and she wielded it to reach her goals. Likely, she had been using it for a long time; probably earlier than she should have. It wasn't something she talked about. She'd want it back, and Raph was the logical choice for that reaffirmation of self. It made him shudder, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.
Shaking off the distressing thoughts, he tried to focus on the movie and his partner's warmth. She was here; had chosen him, and all he could do is make sure she had no reason to leave.
Mary pulled her foot away from the source of tickling. Eyes closed and still half asleep, she mumbled a curse and shifted on the cushions. Tickle. This time her foot was trapped and Mary tried to free it with the other limb as she became more awake. A quiet chuckle ultimately pulled her free of sleep and she cracked her eyes open to glare at her partner as she jerked her feet away from him.
"Jesus, can't you wake someone like a normal person? Shake my shoulder or something," she grumped.
"And pull back a bloody stump? No thanks. There're no teeth on this end," Marshall replied.
Mary wiped her mouth free of drool with a grimace and cursed the fact that she hadn't brushed her teeth before hunkering down on the couch. Her eyes were gritty with fatigue and she groaned while she stretched; flinching and grunting when a few remaining sore spots protested.
Marshall watched her rouse herself, ever amazed by how slowly she revved up yet managed to move at light speed once she was awake. Her flinches had him levering off the couch.
"You're still hurting. I should've offered some Advil or something," he stated, opening the cupboard to retrieve a medicine bottle.
"I'm good," she waved off his offer. "Just some stiffness with a few stubborn aches. I don't think the couch helped." Mary lurched off the couch and stumbled into the kitchen for a drink of water. "The mattress calls, and I heed willingly."
"Listen, Mary," Marshall started, resting his hip against the counter to look at her. "I want you to take my bed. I'm happy to sleep in the guest bed and I know you sleep more soundly in mine."
She rolled her eyes and tossed her head in annoyance, "And what? When I go home in a couple of days I'm going to take your bed with me? Forget it."
It was hard for her to protest. The siren song of her partner's bed had called faintly the whole time she had been home, and now it nearly shouted in her ear. It would be easy to give in. To crawl under the covers, listen to the tick of his bedside clock and allow herself to sleep in a cocoon of Marshall.
Marshall pushed off the counter to lean over and take her upper arms in a light grip, forcing her to focus on him. "I want you to sleep. You need to sleep. You look and feel enormously better, but if you don't start getting a full night's sleep all that progress is going to be for naught."
"I hate it when you say 'naught'," she mumbled, trying to derail the lecture. Marshall just raised his eyebrows before continuing.
"If, after a couple of nights of good sleep you want to switch to the guest bedroom, then I won't argue with you. But you came to me because you know you need to rest, and I wouldn't be doing you any favors if I let you just keep wandering the house at night. And, if you're up, I'm up." He let the last sentence hang in the air with its implications.
Marshall didn't play the trump card often. He knew he could spout reasons at her until he was blue in the face without her agreeing to anything, but if she thought her actions would adversely affect him she would reconsider. Her eyes had already slid to the right while she digested his words. Processing.
"I won't sleep any better just because I'm in your bed," she stated, crossing her arms with a sigh.
Marshall tilted his head and peered at her as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "That's where you were the other day when you slept past noon. You've had very few nightmares there."
"It's not the bed," she insisted, then huffed at him when he still looked confused, "C'mon, it doesn't take a psychological genius to figure out that I sleep better when I sleep with you. Your bed is more restful because you're in it…or at least it smells like you. So, you see, just putting me in there while you sleep in the other room isn't going to make a difference. Just give me the guestroom."
He studied her as she stood in front of him looking slightly uncomfortable at her admission. These little moments of shyness endeared her to him at a different level. Mary Shannon stripped of brashness and snark, sticking a bared part of herself out there and trusting that he wouldn't step on it. Marshall grinned at the little tingle of warmth in his gut; the same one he got when he had first seen her blush. A glimpse into the softer side; the woman. Unfortunately, it only increased his desire to protect her.
"I don't understand you," he said softly, causing her to look up at him inquisitively. "You know it'll help, you know I don't mind, you're not afraid of me and you know it's temporary. Why are you fighting it?"
"Because when I wake up with you lying against me I wonder what it would be like to be with you," she thought as she bit her lip. The thought completely sidetracked her and she stood silently as Marshall watched her. She really needed to uncross this wiring in her brain, Mary decided. The trauma would fade and she needed her wits about her in order to transition back into real life. Melanie's words suddenly floated through her brain, "don't ignore your need for his comfort".
"Let me guess," Marshall teased, sensing the mood of the moment darkening. "You don't trust yourself to keep your hands off me and you'll lie awake thinking of ways to take advantage of me?"
"What?" she looked at him in alarm, wondering if she had said something out loud for a moment before realizing he was teasing her.
"Oh, please, numbnuts," she tried to interject the maximum amount of annoyance. "Like your Snoopy pajamas turn me on."
"I thought women fell for a man with a puppy," he whined.
"Not when they're plastered on your ass," Mary chuckled, shaking her head. He was ridiculous, and she was too tired to argue about it anymore. "Fine. Bring your mutt clad body to bed when you get tired. I'm going to go hog the covers."
Mary headed to the bathroom and Marshall's grin spread across his face.
Mary's eyes flew open with the unknown noise. She sucked in a breath and pressed into the pillow as she saw the shadow in the room.
"Hey, it's me," Marshall said softly. "Just coming to bed. I didn't mean to scare you."
Her heart was trying to pound out of her chest and Mary had to take a few deep breaths to return to calm. The mattress sunk on his side as he crawled in, Mary catching a whiff of toothpaste and fabric softener as the blankets were disturbed by his presence. Comforting. She stretched and rolled over to study him, discerning the lines of his profile in the dim room.
"What time is it?" she whispered.
"A little after midnight," he answered, rolling his head to look at her.
Mary was quiet, and Marshall wondered if she had fallen back to sleep.
"I usually start having the dreams about now." Her voice broke the silence and he listened.
"What do you need?"
Marshall felt her hand creep into his and enclosed it in his grasp. Her fingers were warm from being tucked under the covers. A few rustles as she settled, then a sigh.
"Goodnight, Marshall."
"Sweet dreams, Mare."
*** Oh, happy day!! Not only to Marshall's, but in his bed. Remember when Marshall said there were islands of calm within the storm? Well, I think they're getting voted off the island soon...uh oh. Thanks for waiting me out! Please please REVIEW!! ***
