A/N: It's been awhile, but they're back... I keep getting distracted by other things. First there was "So...Is She Seeing Anybody?" and now there's this other little rabbit kicking around in my head brought on by a comment from the last episode. It's nice to have a muse, I guess, but I wish they'd slow down a little!

To everyone who's reading and responding to this one, thank you so much. I love to know what you think of my little scribbling. Your responses really do keep me writing. It's a small update this time, but I figured small is better than none. More is on the way soon.

And it's like, every time I turn around
I fall in love and find my heart face down and
Where it lands is where it should
This time it's like
The two of us should probably start to fight
Coz something's gotta go wrong
Coz I'm feeling way too damn good, oh
Feelin' way too damn good

"Feelin' Way Too Damn Good" – Nickleback

Morning light crept slowly into the room as if it were hesitant to disturb the slumbering pair twined together under the hotel coverlet. Their postures in sleep were telling. Marshall's arm was draped around Mary's waist, and his body was curled protectively around her. From time to time, his hand minutely and softly flexed against the bare skin of her abdomen as if reassuring his dreaming mind that she was really still there. Despite her general loathing for being held when she was conscious, without her waking mind's rigid defenses in place she had slipped her hand into his possessively, wrapped her calf around his, snuggled back close against him as if she, too, somehow found security and comfort in contact.

Both of them usually woke before their alarms went off, having that mental ability of anticipating the ring and getting up beforehand. This morning, however, they'd both been up far too late the night before, and the lack of sleep had deprived them of that early start. They were both still deeply asleep when the alarm began to buzz on the bedside table. Marshall tightened his grip on Mary briefly as he came awake, felt her stir, but then he rolled slightly to switch off the alarm. Mary made a sleepy, grumpy noise at the disturbance, but the corners of her lips turned up against her will as Marshall returned, buried his face in the curve of her neck with a low, humming, contented sound, burrowing into the spill of her hair there.

They lay for a few more minutes, gently drifting, intertwined fingers softly sliding against one another, neither one wanting to break the precious silence between them or stir too much for fear that they would tumble out of this warm and lovely dream and land back in the realities and loneliness to which they were far more accustomed to waking. Wakefulness grew, and with it, Mary grudgingly acknowledged the passage of time. Even though she'd set the alarm early as was her custom, they would soon have to get up and face the day before them.

She shifted in Marshall's arms, rolled to face him, rested her head on his shoulder. His eyes were half-closed as he smoothed one hand down her back, settling her against him as naturally as if he had done it a million times before. She fit there as rightly as if she had been made for it, carved from the same material, a matched piece finally fitted back into the same set after all this time. Jesus, I'm starting to sound like him now..... The thought of that made her smile, something soft, light, unfamiliar fluttering around her heart.

Unable to resist the temptation, she leaned up and brushed her lips across his. She wanted, more than anything just at that moment, to see the reaction in his eyes when she did it. He didn't disappoint. The eyes that had been almost shut were suddenly gazing steadily back at her, last remnants of sleep disappearing like clouds from the sky, and in them she saw what she was coming to crave, what she was beginning to need....

There it is. Beautiful. He looks at me like...like...

...what her deepest heart rejoiced in, but that she would not name, not even now. She saw reflected in his eyes herself as the burning center of the universe, the heart of worlds; she saw her true value to one who knew her and took her for what she was, her best and worst, all-in- all. It shook her to her core.

And despite that, despite the invitation of her kiss, despite the fact that they lay together so intimately now, he didn't move toward her. He lay still except for his hand against the small of her back, the fingers of which were very, very softly circling as if all his secret impatience and desire had somehow been captured there.

But Marshall doesn't pounce and grab. Oh, he wants alright.... She could feel the firmness of that want rising to make itself known.... but he's waiting again, wants me to choose. She felt a little amused frustration at the predictability of it, at her understanding of him. Ah, Marshall, don't you understand I already made up my mind about this? Maybe I need to make it a little more explicit.... Maybe I need to help you make up yours.

She leaned up slightly on her elbow so she could look down into those fathomless eyes. She gently pushed his tousled hair back from his face, cupping his cheek. He didn't move except the continued motion of that restless hand on her back. He was watching her, waiting, waiting....

She lowered her mouth to hover over his, not a kiss, not quite, for just a moment, relished his reaction as he turned his head to meet hers in anticipation, as his eyes became that hotter blue she now yearned for. She then moved away and pressed a chaste kiss not to his lips but to his cheek instead, followed by another to his forehead. He smiled, and again she felt that delicate and fragile flutter.

She brought her lips back to his again, close but not touching, let her hand run down his neck slowly, across his chest to rest over his heart, enjoy the strong beat of it. His eyes flickered down to her mouth, back to meet her own, and he let out a breath of frustration as she again moved to press a silly little kiss, this time the tip of his nose, instead of what he truly wanted. His hand on her back flexed, closed, open, stilled.

Come on, Marshall....come on.... You play, too.

Once again, she paused at that tantalizing distance, looked down into his eyes, smiled at him just the tiniest bit, waited...and was rewarded for her patience with a little growl his hand slid up her spine to cup the back of her neck, twist into her hair and pull her down to meet him for the long-denied kiss at last.

They were almost late for the wedding. They slipped in the back door of the church and Maribel looked around to see them, her anxious expression fading into a pleased smile as she took in their body language, the guilty little blush on Marshall's cheeks. He raised one hand in a tiny wave, and Maribel minutely shook her head from her position of honor in the front pew. Mary pulled Marshall down on the wooden pew next to her, and although she glared at him when he took her hand in his, she didn't pull it away.

The bridal march began, everyone stood, and in swept the young bride, resplendent in white. The service progressed, and the priest spoke words that were familiar to everyone there, young and old, binding the couple in matrimony. Before the formal and ceremonial words, however, he made a few remarks of his own.

"Marriage today is taken far too lightly by far too many. We all know of those who lacked the proper commitment to their partner, who based their marriages on ephemeral emotions rather than the sturdier stuff of true trust and dedication. We must only hope that as these two young people stand here today, they will use the love they have to build on as a foundation for the hard work and sacrifice that will be necessary, as a base for the true commitment to the promise they have made to one another that will provide for them the life together that they have dreamed of."

He concluded his informal remarks, swept into the words of the set ritual, and then the happy couple were suddenly racing out of the church into the reception, and everyone began to file slowly out of the church after them.

Marshall turned to Mary who was still seated, staring up at the altar at the front of the church, a pensive and sad look on her face.

"Mare...are you okay?"

She seemed to shake herself from her reverie, and she smiled at him, nodding, and stood to walk with him out of the church. They spoke lightly, chatting, but he was aware of the sudden strain underneath. He was also acutely conscious that the smile she had given him wasn't the smile he'd woken to that morning, that she no longer leaned into him as they walked, and that her hand no longer sought his as they stood side-by-side at the reception.

She slipped away from him during the party, and although he knew she was gone, he kept searching the crowd for her. He tried to fight down the rising sense of the inevitable that was bubbling up inside him, but he already knew what was happening. He found her back in their hotel room as they were getting ready to finish preparations for the return trip. He paused in the open door just for the pleasure of watching her for this one last moment, just for the luxury of delaying what he knew was coming next.

She was sitting on the end of the bed staring down at the ring on her hand, rubbing at it absently with her thumb, deep in thought. Light from the window made the gaudy set glitter as she twisted it back and forth, back and forth, as though it were somehow constricting her. Her eyes rose to his as he crossed the small room.

"Marshall...."

"I know. We need to talk, right?"

She laughed, a choked and mirthless sound. "Worst words in the English language....right."

He sat down beside her, his heart slowly turning to stone inside him.