Chapter 9: Facing the Facts

It had been just over a month since the whole 'I'm in love with you' debacle (35 days, to be exact – not that she was counting), and she wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Not that anything had changed, really; at least not on the surface. To anyone watching, they were still the same Mary & Marshall they'd always been. They still bickered; they still goofed around; they still had each other's backs, no matter what...

And yet, everything felt... Different. Wrong.

She knew it wasn't really Marshall's fault. He'd held his part of the bargain, treating her the same as he always had. No, the problem was with her; she had changed.

In the past 35 days – and again, just to make it absolutely clear, she was not keeping count – she'd had plenty of time to figure out what had gone wrong. After a lot of soul-searching – which she oh-so-completely sucked at, by the way – she'd been forced to face a few facts.

Fact number one: Her partner was in love with her. There was no denying that, no wishing it away. It just... was.

Fact number two: There was a pretty good chance she was in love with him too.

Needless to say, she hadn't reacted particularly well to that last bit of insight. Her first instinct had been to try and disprove it. Her brilliant plan? Sex with Raph. She'd gone to his place & dragged him into the bedroom without so much as a hello, determined to prove she was not in love with her partner.

Afterwards, once he'd drifted off to sleep, she'd quietly slipped out of bed and gathered her clothes, desperate to get out of there. She'd actually managed to make it back to her car before dissolving into tears.

What the hell was wrong with her? She'd never been the type to moon over a guy or agonize over what to do. When she wanted something – or someone – she just went for it. And, while she'd had her share of hookups she wished she could forget, she'd certainly never felt guilty about sleeping with a guy.

Yet there was no denying the fact that she'd felt guilty about bedding Raph. Her guilt had nothing to do with the man himself, though. She'd been using him as a walking, talking sex doll – albeit a very talented one – for months now, and she'd never lost any sleep over it. No, her problem was Marshall. Irrational as it may seem, she felt like she betrayed him. The fact that they weren't actually together didn't make one bit of difference.

That was when she had to face the truth. She was unavoidably, undeniably, irrevocably in love with her partner.

Not that knowing helped in any way, mind you. For the first time since she'd met Marshall, she looked for reasons not to spend time with him. When she was with him, she didn't know how to act, let alone what to say.

She hated this; especially hated how she was turning into the wishy-washy type of girl she'd always despised...

Desperate for some time alone to figure out her next step, she'd taken off work early, mumbling something about an appointment. If Marshall hadn't believe her, he hadn't say anything.

She'd gotten in her car, with no particular destination in mind. Something about the familiar motions of driving a car, honed by 20-some odd years of practice, had always helped clear her head & organize her thoughts. She'd solved many a case while driving on the way to nowhere...

Unfortunately, being behind the wheel brought her no peace this time. Her thoughts were still a tangled mess. Normally, she'd just go to Marshall for advice. Which was obviously not an option this time.

Then again, Marshall was really the only person who could help.

On impulse, she pulled the car over, fished out her cell phone, and hit speed dial.

"Marshall!"

"Hey, it's Mary," she said, rather unnecessarily. Even without the help of caller ID, her partner always knew when she was on the other end of the line.

"Forget something?"

"Not so much forgotten as avoided."

"Uh?"

"Ask me again," she said, unwilling to waste any time on explanations now that she'd made up her mind.

"Okay..." her partner replied, sounding perplexed. "Did you forget something?" he asked again, enunciating every syllable.

"Not that, you idiot!"

"Well, then, you're going to have to be a little clearer, because I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Stop screwing around, Marshall!" she barked into the phone, instantly regretting her sharp tone. Even with the best of intentions, it was still hard to curb her innate need to push others to give her what she wanted, exactly when she wanted it. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she tried again. "Sorry... I'm just a bit on edge."

"It's okay," he replied, sounding non-plussed. Marshall was used to her moods, after all.

And yet he still wanted to be with her, insane man that he was...

"No, it's really not," she sighed, "but that's probably the least of our problems right now."

"What do you need?"

"I just need you to ask me again." She paused, struggling to find the right way to say it. "Ask me if I'm in love with you."

She tensed, waiting for his answer. Time slowed to a crawl; ten seconds went by, then twenty... Biting her tongue in an attempt to keep quiet , she vowed to give him whatever time he needed. She'd been dragging this out for weeks; the least she could do was give him a few minutes...

Thirty seconds passed, then a minute, still without so much as a sound from her partner. She checked the phone's display, wondering if they'd gotten disconnected, but there was nothing wrong with the connection. The problem was on the other end; he just wasn't saying anything.

She couldn't remember the last time Marshall had been quiet for more than a few seconds. Even when he was shot, he'd still managed to spout trivia at her. So the fact that he wasn't saying anything right now was definitely not good...

"Marshall?" she prompted him, no longer able to stand the silence. To hell with not pushing him! She'd rather he told her she was too late, that he'd never really meant it, anything.

Anything other than... nothing.

"Why are you doing this, Mary?" he asked softly, the hurt in his voice unmistakable.

"Please, I just need you to ask me again."

"No."

"No?" she repeated, bewildered by his refusal. Of all the possible responses she'd imagined, flat-out refusal was not one of them. "Why not?"

"Because we've been through this before; I asked, you answered. It's over. What would be the point of revisiting the issue?"

"I guess we won't know until you ask me."

More silence.

"Marshall, please..."

"Where are you?'

"Why?"

"If you really want to do this, fine. We'll go through it again. But I'm not having this discussion over the phone."

"I don't know if-"

"Either we discuss this face-to-face, or we don't discuss it at all. Your choice."

"All right," she sighed in defeat, shifting her focus to her surroundings in an attempt to figure out where she was. She wasn't overly surprised to find she'd made her way to the one place she'd always felt welcome.

The one place where she'd always felt... wanted.

"I'm at your place," she told him.

"Don't move. I'll be there in 15 minutes," he said curtly before ending the connection.

Fifteen minutes. No problem. She could hold it together for fifteen minutes...