Mary Shannon was on a quest for peace.
Not world peace or anything else quite that grand, mind you. No, what Mary wanted was a little bit of peace and quiet for herself.
She wasn't asking for much, really. Just a quiet little corner where she didn't have to discuss living arrangements, wedding plans, or any other kind of long-term commitment; a little hide-away where she could escape from her mother and sister, not to mention her fiancé...
She sneered at the word. Even in the privacy of her own head, the concept of her and Raph being engaged seemed completely alien. Not that the idea of getting married – again – had never crossed her mind, but she'd never imagined it would be to someone like Raph. Even now, even after agreeing to marry him, she still couldn't picture it.
The little voice inside her head kept trying to tell her that meant something, that she really needed to think this through before it was too late. That voice belonged to the old Mary: the Mary who would have scoffed at the notion that she needed a man to make her life complete; the Mary who thought of guys like Raph as nothing more than a pleasant way to blow off some steam; the Mary whose idea of a perfect evening was beer and pizza with her best friend...
That Mary was dead and gone now. She'd disappeared into that basement all those months ago, never to be heard from again. There was a new Mary in her place: a Mary who thought she should do what was expected of her; a Mary who had agreed to marry a man she didn't love, or even really like; a Mary who pushed her best friend a little bit further away with each passing day...
She resolutely pushed aside all thoughts of her old life, of her old self. No sense wasting time on what used to be, she firmly told herself. Her life was on track now; she was happy.
Wasn't she?
Sighing, she swiped her ID card and walked into the darkened office. It should come as no surprise that, in her quest for personal peace, Mary had come to the one place she'd always found solace in.
She'd come to work.
Shrugging off her jacket, she quickly made her way across the common area, only to stop dead in her tracks as she spotted her partner at his desk, engrossed in something on his computer screen.
She briefly considered sneaking out before he realized she was there, but quickly discarded the idea. After all, this was Marshall. This wasthe one person in the world who never demanded she change her life to suit his needs; the one person who cared about what she wanted, not about what he wanted for her; the one person who loved her for who she was, and not who he wanted her to be. Really, when it came right down to it, Marshall was the one person in the world she didn't feel the need to escape from...
"What are you doing here?" he asked, never looking up from his computer screen.
"Just needed some peace and quiet," she replied, eying him curiously. What the hell was he doing here this late, sitting alone in the dark, playing with his computer? If this were anybody else, she would have assumed he was trolling the web for porn, but since this was Marshall, it obviously had to be something else...
"Sick of the future ball-and-chain already?" he snickered as he clicked away with his mouse, eyes never leaving the screen. "Doesn't exactly bode well for the long-term success of your relationship, does it?"
She watched as he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Whiskey, pouring himself a generous shot and downing it in one gulp. "Is that the bottle from my desk?" she asked, alarmed to see it almost empty. They'd knocked back a couple of shots just a few days ago, and the bottle had been brand new then. That was a lot of Whiskey for a few days, especially for her normally straight-laced partner...
"It most certainly is the bottle from your desk," he agreed. "Guess I should thank you, uh?" he added, raising his empty glass to her.
"Did you drink the whole thing tonight?" she asked, frowning.
"Why the hell do you care? I'll replace the damn bottle, if that's the problem..."
"Marshall--"
"Just leave me alone," he said sullenly. "It shouldn't be too hard for you; you've had lots of practice lately..."
He was right, of course. She had been pushing him away, ruthlessly crushing any attempts to recapture the closeness they'd once shared. It was just easier that way, for both of them.
Or so she'd thought.
Looking at her partner now, watching as he poured himself yet another shot of Whiskey, she realized something was very wrong with him. For all she knew, he'd been like this for weeks, and she'd just been too self-centered to notice.
She'd failed him.
Again.
Well, she wasn't going to just stand by... She'd find out what was wrong, and she'd fix it. "We need to talk about this," she told him as she sat down on the edge of his desk, determined to start making things better.
"I would have thought you'd be all talked out by now," he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Surely you have nothing left to say, at least as far as I'm concerned. You did make it pretty clear there was no room for me in your personal life..."
"Jesus, Marshall," she breathed, feeling as though she'd been punched in the stomach. Had things gotten so bad that he really believed that? "I'm so sorry, I never meant--"
"Go home, Mary," he muttered, reaching for his glass. "Go home to Raph, since that's what you obviously want."
"If I wanted to be home with Raph," she said, "I'd be home with Raph. Since I'm here instead, what does that tell you?"
"That you want something from me?" he sneered, knocking back another shot. "Sorry, but I'm taking the night off; you can find someone else to do your dirty work for once."
"Exactly how many of those have you had?" she asked, tilting her head towards the now bone-dry bottle.
"Again... Why do you care?"
"Because I can only have one drunk in my life at any one time, and that position's currently filled by my mother?" she quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
"Well, if nothing else, I think I finally understand why Jinx drinks," he mumbled, staring morosely at the empty glass in his hand.
She blinked back tears, trying not to take his words personally. She knew it was the alcohol talking, but that didn't mean it stung any less. "This isn't you, Marshall," she said softly, taking away the glass. "You don't get drunk."
"You obviously don't know everything about me," he countered, "because I can assure you that I am indeed drunk."
"Why?"
"Because I drank too much? Though, really, I didn't drink anywhere near enough, I guess, since I'm still having this conversation..."
"Why?" she repeated, figuring it wouldn't take much to wear him down, under the circumstances.
"I don't want to talk about this," he whined, turning his attention back to the computer.
"Too bad," she said, shifting her position so she was blocking his view, "because I want to talk about this."
"Right," he scoffed. "And what Mary wants, Mary always gets, right? I should know..."
"Marshall--"
"Besides," he continued, ignoring her, "what could you possibly want to talk to me about? You sure as hell don't need to talk to me anymore."
"You know that's not true... You're my best friend, Marshall. I know I haven't exactly been acting that way lately, but it's true."
"You told him everything," he said, voice breaking. "What do you need me for?"
"You're still the most important person in my life," she told him gently. "My getting engaged doesn't change that; nothing will ever change that..."
"Work was the only part of you that was mine, and mine alone," he continued as if he hadn't heard a word she'd said, "and now I don't even have that... You don't need me anymore, except to get you coffee and fill out your paperwork. Oh, wait... Eleanore can get you coffee, so I guess that leaves me with just the paperwork..."
"Please don't--"
"It's fine," he said, cutting her off. "It's important to know exactly where you stand in a relationship, and now I know. Although maybe 'relationship' is overstating where we're headed, uh?"
"Marshall--"
"It just never occurred to me you could be in love with the guy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm not--"
"How could I miss that?" he asked, frowning. "How could I not realize I was losing you?"
"You didn't lose me, Marshall. Raph is just... He's a shot at a normal life. Don't you ever just want a normal life? The white picket fence, the dog, the 2.5 kids..."
"No," he answered, shaking his head. "I don't. I used to, but I don't anymore..."
"What do you want, then?" she asked, against her better judgment. She didn't really need to hear his answer; she already knew what he wanted, just like she knew it was the one thing she could never give him...
"You know what I want," he said, pulling her into his lap.
She went willingly, offering no resistance. She let him hold her, partly so he'd focus on her, and not on the empty bottle on his desk, or on whatever was on his computer screen. Mostly, though, she let him hold her because, even after all this time, she still craved his touch, still missed being close to him like this...
"What do you want, Mare?" he mumbled, face buried in her hair. "What do you really want?"
"I don't want this," she lied, fighting to keep her voice steady.
"Liar," he whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
"You're drunk," she reminded him, not entirely sure if that was meant to stop him from doing something he'd regret, or if it was meant to stop her from doing the very same thing...
"I'm not that drunk," he countered, trailing kisses down the side of her neck.
"It doesn't matter," she sighed, forcing herself to push him away. "We need to talk."
"I don't want to talk," he said stubbornly, reaching for her again.
"Fine," she acquiesced, "you don't have to talk... But you do have to listen," she clarified, thwarting his attempts to tug her shirt free of her jeans. "I'm only going to say this once," she warned, "so you need to pay attention."
"Uh-uh," he mumbled distractedly, unsuccessfully trying to free his hands from her iron grasp.
"Focus, Marshall!" Startled, he turned his attention back to her, frowning. "You're wrong, you know," she told him gently. "Raph doesn't have all of me; he doesn't even have most of me... All the important parts, the parts that make me who I am, the ones that make me happy... Those are all yours, have been for a long time..."
She paused, searching his face, trying to gauge if she was getting through to him. "The part of me that Raph has... It means nothing; it's just sex... Not like I haven't been giving that away to pretty much every guy who's caught my eye over the years..."
"You're marrying the guy," he reminded her, rather unnecessarily; it wasn't like she could forget, given how everyone kept bringing it up... "It can't be just sex," he reasoned. "You must love him."
"You know I don't," she replied, sighing. "I never did; never will."
He frowned, studying her. "Even if you don't love him... He's still the one you go home to every night; the one who gets to hold you as you fall asleep; the one who gets to wake up next to you for the rest of his life. No matter what, he's still the one who gets to share a life with you..."
She stared at him in shock, realizing for the first time that her life would change once she married Raph. She'd never actually stopped to think about that; she'd just kind of figured she'd go on as she always had, working insane hours, spending most of her time with Marshall... The only real change, as far as she'd been concerned, was that she'd no longer need to hunt for a new fuck-buddy whenever she got horny.
Well, that and she'd have a steady supply of clean clothes...
"Even if you don't love him," he continued, sounding increasingly miserable, "even if you think it's just sex, he still gets to be with you, and I'm still left with nothing..."
"I'm sorry," she managed to croak out. "I didn't really think... I didn't realize..."
"You've made your choice," he said, sounding utterly defeated as he pushed her off him and unsteadily got to his feet. "Now you get to live with it..."