This is a shorter chapter, but that's ok, cuz more fun is coming! 3 points to anybody who can see how this chapter ends before it does!

Disclaimer: I don't own IPS. Doi.

This whole vacation business wasn't turning out to be half as bad as Mary had thought it would be. She was sleeping until her body decided it was time to get up, ate whenever she wanted, whatever she wanted, and didn't have to worry about a single witness. No sisters called for advice, no mothers called to complain, and no bosses called to tell her bad news.

So, really, it should have been the perfect time for her.

But something was definitely missing.

It was odd, really. Mary was better alone, she knew that, and had always known that. So why was she actually more than a little lonely on this trip? She was getting tired of the harmless flirting from the pups on the beach, the whistles from the old grandpas, the endless hours of no one to talk to. She was supposed to be able to relax and recharge, but all she really wanted was to get back to work.

Not to work, a little voice in her head nagged.

She shook her head as she pulled out the sundress she had bought for the party at the hotel tonight and unzipped it. Of course she wanted to get back to work. Work was her life. She loved her job. She loved protecting people and keeping them safe and putting away dirtbags and everything else that came with her job. She wanted to get back to work, to normal life.

Nah uh, the voice said again. You want to get back to him.

She released a frustrated breath of air as she put her dress on and zipped it again. Of course she wanted to get back to Marshall. He was a part of her job, a part of her normal life.

A major part.

She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. She would love to pretend that Marshall wasn't what she was missing, but it was hard for her to outright lie to herself when she knew better. She did miss him.

A lot.

They would have had so much fun together on this vacation of hers. He would have been hard-pressed not to explode with all of the information he could spout off about where they were and what they were doing and traditions of the culture and anything else that he might have thought up. She would have rolled her eyes, and made some wise-crack comments, but secretly, she always found his antics amusing. And she actually did listen. He would have loved the scenery, the tranquility, and especially the history of this place. And because he was such a good friend and partner, and knew her so well, he would have made sure that no matter what, she enjoyed herself.

She'd actually thought about inviting him along, but after the speech he had given her before she'd left, she just couldn't. Not that she didn't care for and about him, but she didn't want to give him the impression that there was more than there really was.

But the more she vacationed without him, the more she doubted that was the case. She had needed space and time. He'd dropped a bomb in her lap and she was just supposed to hold it? Her first instinct was to throw it back, get rid of it, pretend it had never been there.

And then there was what shocked her the most: somewhere deep within her, a small, but steadily growing, part of her seized his words like a starving man for a ham. It was as if that part of her had been waiting for just these words from him. And that was what had held her so frozen and still as he had said those things, mesmerized as she had been by those deep blue eyes, hardly able to breathe.

She could even remember her thoughts during that conversation.

"If you feel like you need to get something out of your system, if you need to go…do some cowboy…you've done the cowboy. And when you weren't doing the cowboy, you were the cowboy, like with Raph. You don't need to let off steam. What you need is…."

He's really worked up about this. What does he think I need? What, Marshall? Tell me what I need. "What?"

"I get that you don't like messy. But maybe messy is what you need."

Messy? How could I want…? Marshall…?

"Maybe instead of just anyone, you should be looking for someone."

Whoa, is he…? He is! Look at his eyes! Make him stop! No, don't…Wait…

"Someone who challenges you."

That's you…

"Calls you on your BS."

Also you…

"Gets in your face."

Umm, you…

"Makes you think."

You again, Marshall. What's the deal?

Holy crap, Marshall wants me to pick him! He wants to be that someone! He is that someone! Oh, this isn't good.

Why? He's my best friend, an amazing partner, a more amazing man, and he actually gets me, understands me, has stayed with me…the only one who ever has…Maybe messy wouldn't be so bad? Maybe I could…

"What?"

Oh, jeez, I was staring, wasn't I? How could I help it?

He wants me to answer? Now? Is he nuts? I'm in the middle of an epiphany here!

"What? I'm thinking!" And you have no idea how hard…Ok, Mary, breathe….

She'd been so relieved when Stan had come out, but there was no way she had missed how frustrated, even discouraged, Marshall had looked. Even now, she felt incredibly guilty about not being able to answer him at all, let alone in the way he wanted. But he was the most important man in her life, how could she honestly answer something like that, something so carefully crafted to actually avoid saying the words "choose me" but at the same time leave no doubt of the same message, without giving it careful consideration?

She reflected still as she made her way downstairs to the party, and took an intriguing-looking cocktail from a young waiter who winked at her. Marshall deserved careful thought and consideration from her, not a rushed, hasty decision like she was used to doing. That would give the impression that she only wanted a quick round of sex and nothing more. Not that she hadn't thought about it, what being with Marshall would be like, but there was too much at stake. The thought of even beginning something with Marshall was a heavy one. It could never be purely physical.

She would never want it to be.

If Marshall were here, she thought as she made her way through the incredibly crowded veranda towards the balcony, he would ask me what I want.

But what do I want?

She sighed, and took a drink of her cocktail, which was surprisingly tangy and not bad at all. She made a mental note to have another.

Her flight was Wednesday afternoon, and she was going back to work Thursday morning, so she only had until then to make up her mind. And she knew Marshall wouldn't pester her about it, but he would be thinking it, and she would know he was thinking about it…

Would he really want to start something with her? After everything they'd been through, let alone what she herself had put him through? He knew her, emotional crap and all. He knew what a wreck she was, what a mess it really would be. With all of that, could he really be serious about something more, something deeper than what they already had? It seemed so impossible that she couldn't even begin to hope for it.

Suddenly she was jolted roughly by a couple who had joined in the dancing, and she swore as her drink spilled onto her dress. She hastily tried to wipe it off, muttering viciously under her breath.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Miss! Please, let me help you!" came a heavily accented, all-too-familiar deep voice, and she stopped dabbing at her dress as she froze. Slowly she turned and looked at the man who had bumped her.

"Raphael?"

Bwah hahahahahaha...I know, I'm mean. Please review anyway, and I'll make it all better...maybe...=)