A/N: So...there was a bit of grumbling of the cliffhanger. :) I just couldn't resist. Sorry. I will try to make up for it by updating faster than usual. Hopefully, this will soothe you. We begin with a flashback to the 80's, at least musically.... (Oh, and btw, they're not mine, not the Marshals, not the songs, none of it. I'm just having fun....)

The lights are on, but you're not home

your mind is not your own

your heart sweats, your body shakes

another kiss is what it takes

You can't sleep, you can't eat

there's no doubt, you're in deep

your throat is tight, you can't breathe

another kiss is all you need

Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh Yeah

it's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough,

you know you're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to love....

~ "Addicted to Love" Robert Palmer

"You know what, Stan, there are parts of this job that wear really thin after awhile. You two geniuses really couldn't figure out some other way to get this done?" Mary was staring at Stan with a look that boded ill for him.

Stan was unmoved. His cheerful and slightly insouciant smile never wavered. "I don't think I need to have Eleanor sign you up for a hearing exam, do I, Mary?"

She glowered at him and folded her arms, muttering.

"Right. Okay then. So the two of you will be Mr. and Mrs. Marshall Shepard, I took the liberty of blending your two aliases for this little excursion, for the next forty-eight until we can get Maribel and Ruben safely to and from this wedding party. It's been arranged that Mari and Ruben are bringing you as out-of-town relatives who are visiting, I believe, Mary, you're her deceased sister's child this time around. All the arrangements are set for you to go, let them be a part of the ceremony, and get them back. There should be minimal risk. Nobody has been near them now for five years, and the wedding party has been thoroughly vetted. Any questions?"

"Yeah. Why the hell I keep getting myself into these situations." This question, muttered and rhetorical as it was since Mary had been the one to bring Ruben and Maribel Castillo's request to Stan in the first place, was ignored by everyone else.

Mary continued to glare holes in her boss but was stonily silent. Marshall was staring at his computer screen, scrolling through page after page of information he'd just been given about the new situation trying to familiarize himself with the guest list for the wedding itself. He glanced up at Mary and Stan and shook his head.

Mary tried again. "Stan, really...this whole 'pretending to be married' thing is asinine. Nobody in their right minds would think that he and I are married." She gestured vaguely toward Marshall, her engagement ring catching the light softly. "I mean, come on...."

Eleanor said, "HA!!" loudly enough to be heard by everyone and turned to begin filing reports from the previous days' efforts by WITSEC officers.

Leaning back against her desk, Mary turned her irritation on one of her favorite targets. "Something to say, Eleanor?" Her tone was saccharine.

Eleanor looked back over her shoulder, eyes narrowed slightly, bating little grin on her lips. "You know what, sometimes, the shot is just too easy to take. I'm refraining in the name of good sportsmanship."

Mary bared teeth in a gesture that was most definitely not a smile. She sidled over to Eleanor's area. "Oh no. By all means. I insist." She held her arms out wide as if to present an easy target.

Stan and Marshall looked at each other and rolled their eyes, but otherwise, the two men wisely remained still so as not to be dragged into the fray.

Eleanor spun her chair back around fully, eyes sparkling with the light of anticipated combat. "Well, since you insist.... I was just going to tell you that most people who meet you two for the first time think you are married. Or at the very least romantically involved." She smiled smugly to herself and began to straighten up a pile of folders.

"Huh? What? Why?...." Mary looked at though someone had smacked her with a hammer between the eyes, and she struggled to maintain the antagonistic mien of a moment ago. "Why the hell would they assume that he...and I...."

"Because nobody else but a husband would possibly put up with you. Or that's the conclusion everybody comes to. They think it would require some kind of legally-binding vow....."

Mary threw up her hands and looked at Marshall. He raised his brows and pulled his eyes away from the computer screen, smug little grin already firmly in place. "What can I tell you? She has a point. The lady has a point. Why do I put up with you, Mare? Somebody remind me?" He looked around the office as if for an answer.

"Who asked you, numbnuts? And what is this, Gang Up on Mary Day, and nobody told me? Jesus...." Mary stalked back over to her desk and started flipping through her own paperwork. But she kept sneaking glances over at Marshall.

---

The wedding in question was being held in a tiny town very near the border. Maribel and Ruben's son was getting married, and the whole thing was happening in the bride's hometown. Ruben and Maribel had brought two children with them into the program ten years ago; now their youngest son, Pablo was the one taking a bride. Mary had started working with the couple and their children about the time that Pablo was finishing high school. Now, he was about to graduate from college, about to start his adult life with this new woman by his side, and Maribel and Ruben were all aflutter with pride and anxiety at watching him go.

They were riding down in the car together, and Mary was listening to Maribel twitter over the wedding preparations, tuning in and out and giving the appropriate responses that seemed required. Her mind was on other issues. For the next two days, give or take depending, she and Marshall were going to have to pretend to be a married couple. That meant a shared room, something they hadn't done since Texas all those many months ago.

More than that though, it would mean pretending to be married and doing it convincingly enough not to raise any eyebrows about why they were there. They'd done this shtick a hundred times, but not for days at a time, and not with this...history...between them. She glanced over at Marshall. He looked back at her, his eyes questioning but totally unconcerned. Normal.

Shit. Now I'm shying at shadows. Get a grip on yourself. What is past is past. We're both adults, and we can do this.

---

The first night was the rehearsal dinner. It was a lavish affair including a huge meal and dancing. Maribel and Ruben were swept up into the heart of the action, but they never forgot to make sure that Mary and Marshall were taken care of. Marshall found it touching, the way Maribel would send someone around to make sure her favorite "niece" and her "husband" were kept in the heart of the events. Maribel was a kind-hearted woman who had managed to keep that generous kindness even after she and Ruben had wound up pursued by contract killers after Ruben had decided to stop helping launder money for a crime syndicate in New York. She was one of Marshall's favorites on his and Mary's circuit.

Mary and Marshall tried to plead off the dancing, but after the meal, everyone, simply everyone danced. Maribel and Ruben, the ancient abuelitas on the bride's side, the bridesmaids and the groomsmen, the tias and tios that had come up from Mexico, the young, the old, everyone danced. Mary and Marshall would have made a conspicuous exception, and they could have hardly pled illness and not caused a scene.

Maribel came by full of happiness, embraced them both, saying, "You must dance. Come on. It will make an old woman's heart happy. Come on. It will be such fun!"

Mary smiled. "Maribel, quit talking like you're ancient. You're fifty if you're a day."

Maribel was not to be deterred. "Come on, don't be a killjoy. Marshall, make her dance. You know how, I'm sure."

Marshall looked up. "Just what in our experience would make you think I can make her do anything?"

Mary narrowed her eyes, shifted her hand into a loose fist. Marshall just grinned his most irritating smirk, undaunted.

They lost the battle of wills with the mother-in-law-to-be, however, and they found themselves out on the makeshift dance floor with everyone else, happy quick-tempoed music swirling around them.

Marshall held his hand out, head cocked just a little sideways in question. He wasn't sure if Mary was going to permit this. Mary, as a general rule didn't like to be held, didn't like to dance when she was on the job, and then there was also.... He brought his mind up short just before it dipped into the forbidden pool of memory.

Mary slapped her hand into his with an irritated sigh and slung her other up to his shoulder. "You do know how to do this, right?"

Yeah. No need to worry about any of that, then. He laughed at himself a little inwardly, his lips quirking with the amusement. "Um, sort of. You forget I grew up out here...." And he led her into the steps of the dance with a grace Mary didn't expect at all.

---

They'd been dancing for hours. Mary had lost track of the number of songs, the number of times she'd changed partners, been spun away, chatted to the friendly members of Itzel, the young bride-to-be's, family, and then been returned to Marshall. Her feet were starting to hurt, and she was starting to get a little tired even though she had to admit that as far as protection duty went, this was not the worst she'd ever had.

She'd looked up to see Marshall with several different women in his arms, too, including one of the wizened abuelas. He'd led her with care, and she'd been talking a hundred miles a minute in Spanish. She'd watched him respond, marveled again at his skill with people, with the unexpected demands of situations like this one, with language, with seemingly everything.

Mary wasn't the only one noticing Marshall tonight. One of the bridesmaids, a beautiful young woman with curves that wouldn't quit and a definitely predatory gleam in her eye as she inched just a tiny bit closer than propriety mandated, had corralled him early on. She moved, in Mary's professional opinion, like Jello on a plate, and she was making sure Marshall got a good eyeful. Mary had felt something protective in her stir, but after all, Marshall was a big boy and he could take care of himself. He seemed to be having a good time, too, so Mary put a chain on her inner guard dog and did her best to focus on her own dancing partner.

Now she looked across the room again to see the same young woman again in his arms. The thing inside her that she had been calling protectiveness flared into something else that she would not name as the girl ran a fingertip down the buttons of Marshall's shirt. Marshall had been looking down at her with a calm and humored smile, laughing at something she'd said, but when she began to touch him, Mary saw Marshall blink. She knew that blink. Her geekish partner had just become aware that he being pursued, that he was desired, and he, bless him, wasn't quite sure what to do about it. The girl had slipped her hand up from its chaste position on his shoulder to the back of his neck to caress. Mary growled low in the back of her throat. I fucking know what to do about it.

---

Marshall had a problem. The bridesmaid he'd been enjoying dancing and chatting with had turned into a live wire in his arms. He hadn't intended things to turn that way. Yes, she was lovely, sultry, intelligent, ...but she was probably all of twenty-two. And he was here on a case, pretending to be married to Mary. And she was taking her finger now and... oh crap... He caught her hand as she tried to perform a maneuver designed to confuse and distract the most focused of men.

"Um, Alessandra," he began.

"Call me, Ali," she purred, leaning in close enough to his ear to fill it with her breath.

"Uh, yeah, okay, Ali. I think maybe I've had enough dancing for one night..."

"Oh, but Marshall, there's so much night left to...dance...in..."

Only the very young can say stuff like that and not sound stupid. I need to get away from this girl. This situation has got to end now, but how do I get out of it without being rude or making an ass of myself...well more than I already probably have....

And as if someone had answered his unspoken plea, Mary appeared beside them, a savage little grin Marshall knew all too well on her lips.

"There you are. Wondered where you got off to." She looked Alessandra up and down dismissively. "Mind if I cut in? No? Good." She gave the pouting Ali a light shove that sent her tottering slightly on her heels and pulled Marshall against her. She looked over her shoulder at Ali who was glaring at the pair of them. "Sorry, chica. This one's all taken. Run along and find your own."

Ali smirked, crossing her arms in a gesture that accentuated her ample chest, tossing her hair and muttering just loud enough to be heard by everyone nearby, "He didn't feel so taken a minute ago...."

You want to play it that way, you little tramp? Okay. They do say actions speak louder than words...., thought Mary.

Mary's eyes cut back to Marshall who was standing with his arms loosely around her. His eyes met hers and he realized what was about to happen only seconds before she moved. He tried to brace himself for it, but, really, there was no way to insulate himself for what was coming and he knew it. He took a deep breath and....

Mary slid her hands up around his neck, into his hair, pulled head down even as she angled her own and she kissed him. He had enough wits about him still to spread his hands and pull her tight, but then all sensible action fled him and instincts awakened in Texas and beaten down since then flared brightly. He gave a little inaudible groan as he began to kiss her back, and for the two of them, the rest of the room dropped away from under their feet. There was only the strong steady beat of the music, the steadying feel of each other's arms, and the forbidden and long-denied sweetness of the taste of each other's lips.

Oops, did I make another cliffhanger? Bad me. Bad, bad me.