A/N: So....here they are at the vital moment. Everybody wants to know what he'll say. What she'll do. If there's going to be any pie involved. Or any more Kleenex. All I can say, gentle reader, is press on....

I didn't mean a word I said
And if I hurt you, I'm sorry
I didn't mean to lose my head
And if I made you cry, I'm sorry
It was just another foolish quarrel
Won't you end it with a kiss
And just remember this
Except the TIME I said I love you
I didn't mean a word I said

~ "I Didn't Mean a Word I Said" - Ella Fitzgerald

I.

He'd ridden the entire trip down the unpaved road with the little mechanic with his heart in his throat. His driver seemed oblivious to his agony, cheerfully guiding his ancient but well-kept truck down the gravel and dirt road at a snail's pace and talking ninety-to-nothing the whole time. Marshall had been content to let him fill the silence, contributing a noise of agreement or disbelief when it had seemed required and fervently wishing old man would just drive faster. After what seemed an eternity, the ancient gentleman slowed the truck at the base of a largish hill. A path cut into the trees ahead, winding up and away from the main road.

"That's the drive to the house there. I'll just put her in gear and...."

Marshall smiled and laid his hand on the mechanic's sleeve. "You know what? I think I'll surprise her and walk up. Just let me out down here."

The old man looked at him for a moment and then let loose with his cackling laugh. "Boy, you must have really screwed up big time if you've got to sneak in on foot covert like this, son. Well, whatever you like. Just remember the way back to town. If push comes to shove, I'm sure Francis would be happy to have you at the house tonight."

Marshall shook his hand. "Thank you, sir. No offense to your lovely wife, but I'm really, really hoping that I don't have to take you up on that..."

II.

He'd approached the house in the shadows of the late afternoon as if it were full of criminals laden with assault rifles rather than one woman he loved more than the moon and the sun and who (he hoped) had feelings for him of a similar if perhaps unadmitted nature. He had no idea what type of Mary was waiting for him in that cozy-looking little cabin or even where she was. It was never a good idea to sneak up on Mary since she was so awfully fond of guns and weapons of destruction, but sneaking up on a Mary who was already an angry Mary..... He sighed. Well, the sheer hassle of breaking in a new partner would probably keep her from killing him before he could talk to her at least a little, right?

As he got near the porch and no shots were fired, his confidence increased. Either she hadn't noticed him yet, or she was going to wait and talk to him before the violence began. He began to hear shimmering bits of music coming to him from somewhere.... He took out the key Stan had given him and slipped it gently into the lock, gingerly opened the big door just enough to peer inside. No Mary. The stereo was filling the house with Ella Fitzgerald's big voice crying for one more chance with lost love, and he scanned the scene carefully, trying to figure out just where Mary might be. He stepped inside the darkening living room, dropped his gear bag, and silently slid down the short hall glancing into rooms as he went. Still no Mary even though the signs of her presence were everywhere, discarded clothing in a corner of the bedroom floor, a damp towel hung neatly to dry over the bar on the shower door. He could even smell the clean scent of her soap in the bath, something that made a hunger in him rumble and ache.

He stepped into the master bedroom for a closer inspection, and as he did so, something out the open sliding door that led onto the deck caught his eye, a moment, a tiny gesture. He froze, then moved instinctively out of direct line of sight, and watched as Mary reached out to grab a glass of wine sitting next to the big jacuzzi tub she was soaking in on the back deck. He felt his heart surge and his mouth go dry. Her hair was still damp and carelessly twisted up on top of her head with a big clip. She had her head back on the contoured neckrest with her eyes closed. She was in the water up to her chin except when she sat up to reach for the glass of wine and then her neck, shoulders, arms, and the upper portion of her beautiful breasts slipped out of the hot bubbles, revealing a flush there caused by the temperature. She was exquisite.

Oh God, how did I ever think there was any way I could ever possibly live without wanting her, without being near her, ever possibly control this? Look at her. She's Venus rising from the sea....

Ha! said another voice in his head almost immediately, more like Diana in her bath. And you know how well that turned out for Actaeon. Have you checked your head for antlers lately, Mann? Your backside for dog teeth? Cause there's no way in hell you're going to get away with this for much longer....

He slowly crept out of the bedroom's open door expecting at any moment for her to open her eyes and for the yelling portion of the evening to begin. Moving silently was nothing for him, a second nature, but he still shouldn't have been able to sneak around her with this ease. She seemed softer now, though, tired or sleepy, and she didn't even seem to notice his presence there. Maybe it's the wine or the music. He smiled. Well, she's going to be seven kinds of pissed any way this plays, so.... He inched a little closer, lightly snagged the bag of doughnut holes she had sitting beside the wine, retreated quickly to a nearby chair, opened them carefully, and popped one in his mouth. So let's just see how long this lasts.

Mmm. Was hungry. And now I have sugar and...eye candy. Yeah. She's going to shoot me. Aaaaanny minute now. Good thing she can't read my mind.... A truly evil little grin teased his lips as he continue to watch Mary relax and sigh in the jacuzzi. His mind was spinning interesting scenarios, some few of which involved those hot water jets working on his travel-stiff spine, but increasingly as time went on involved the two of them twined together, his mouth open on her....

And that was when he saw her hand clench in frustration at not being able to find her sweet treat, saw her eyes flutter open. He nibbled another of the pastry bites as she focused on his presence for the first time, saw it register on her face for the first time, saw the burst of hot happiness, pure joy that flared in her eyes instantly smothered by annoyance and fear, and instead of going over and dragging her out of the hot tub and into the bedroom as he wanted to do, he went with humor.

"Looking for something?"

III.

He's here! It's him! It's really, really Marshall and he's really, really there! Her heart sang, danced, trilled, yearned, beat wildly. But then....

"You bastard." She shifted in the tub, to rise, to get him, to beat him bloody and senseless, to shoot him, remembered her current state of undress and weaponlessness and subsided, choosing a lethal glare instead.

He smiled, gave that graceful little nod of acknowledgment with his head, reached into the bag again with his hand.

"Yeah. That would be me."

"Where the living fuck have you been? No, wait, don't tell me. It might not, after all, be in my goddamn best interest to know, right?" Her rage and disdain were icy, imperial as she gazed at him.

Aaannnd here we go. Round one, and we're officially out of our corners, thought Marshall.

"Mare," he said softly, "I..."

"Don't you 'Mare' me. You've given away the right to all nicknames and affectionate terms of address. You left, Marshall. You know, I never figured you for a coward, but I guess I was mistaken, because...." She splashed water as she gestured wildly. "Voi-effin-la! You got out of that bed while I was sleeping and you ran away. In the middle of the fucking night. You left me lying there in your own bed like was a one-night stand in a by-the-hour motel.... and then that note, that note, oh my GOD...."

"No. Stop." His voice took on an edge, sharper than he intended it to be, and she looked up at him, surprised, as he rose, paced, ran a hand through his hair. He sighed, consciously struggling to soften his tone, to avoid conflict. "Mare, I...no. I wasn't running away from you."

"Then I have to say it's the best impression I have ever seen of it. What the hell were you doing then? I came out to find you the night before drunk out of your mind, and then we... then you... then we....and then you were gone!"

He grabbed his chair, dragged it over to the edge of the hot tub, turned it around and straddled it, crossed his arms over the back, leaned to face her again. He was silent for a moment, just studying her, the crossed arms, the mutinous expression. "Believe it or not, I was trying to save us both some pain." He made an acknowledging gesture at her incredulous snort. "At the time, it was the only way I could think of to stop the cycle we were stuck in."

"What fucking cycle, Marshall, and how could you even think that I would want you to..."

"Cycle, Mare? What cycle? Come on! There was Texas where we stepped out a little after the gunfight, and then we both felt guilty and things got weird, but we recovered mostly, could lay it off on stress and opportunity. And....and...if one of us...if I...felt a little more than I should have, then that was just something I would live with, right? I mean, it wouldn't be the first time I'd taken those feelings and shoved them in a damn drawer...."

Wait....did he just say?

"... And then there was the wedding, and you catching me under the stars and telling me that you thought about it, thought about Texas, about us together again....It was enough to tempt a stone saint, Mare....How could I tell you no? Even without the way I feel about you, Mare, I probably wouldn't have tried that night, with shooting stars and us dancing all night and that kiss.... Then we were right back at square one, only this time we couldn't blame the stress, could we? This time, it was all about consenting adults and maybe something else if we were honest....."

Mary shifted a little uncomfortably at the portrait he was painting, but said nothing, let him go on. Part of her mind was shrinking from the realization of what she'd done to him, but her heart was also beating rapidly as she began to admit to herself for the very first time something she had known and ruthlessly repressed for a very long time....

He....he...loves...me.... He LOVES me....

"But we never are, are we?" He sighed deeply. "And you were wearing that ring, and it was killing you that you'd broken your word to Raph," he spat the word like it was an obscenity, "and it was killing me that you were in pain because of what we'd done even though it was...beautiful," and he reached out a finger lightly to push a stray strand of hair away from her cheek. "So we put it aside again, and I prepared myself to live on whatever crumbs you would give me." His expression turned dark, sad, and he got up, walked back toward the house. "And then you told Raph about WITSEC...."

"Marshall..." She murmured his name, her anger long since having evaporated.

He turned back to her, and the pain in his eyes was still there like a scar not yet completely healed. "I think I understand why you did it now, Mare. I've thought about it a lot, really, over the last four days. Do you want to hear my theory?"

She made a little gesture with her hand, watching him cautiously.

"You thought that if you told him your most valuable secret you'd have to go through with the wedding. You'd be binding yourself to him with bonds you wouldn't be able to break. You were trying to paint yourself into a corner...."

She remained silent. She had come to the same conclusion herself not so long ago, after all, hadn't she?

"Anyway, I couldn't stand it. I felt like you'd stabbed me right in the back. It was the craziest thing....I guess I felt like...like.. you were cheating on me somehow when you told him. I know that doesn't make any sense at all, but there you have it...." He laughed, bitterly, stared off into the distant hills now bathed with the colors of the setting sun, back to her.

She stirred. "No, Marshall, I get it." And she did. She knew him. She understood how sacred WITSEC was to him, to them both, how he'd feel more betrayed by her sharing that special part of their lives together with Raph than by her sharing her body with him. Because Marshall knew her, too, understood that while she had sometimes been casual with men about sex, men that included Raphael Ramirez, she had never once, not even one single day in her life, been casual about the job.....

"And then, when you came and got me in the bar, wouldn't go away, and we...I....we... I should never have treated you like that, Mare. I'm sorry about how rough I was with you. I...was...hurting and drunk, and those are not meant to be excuses for it, but I was just so full of.... I'm sorry. That's all I can ever say. When I realized what I'd said, what I'd done, how I'd just.... I realized that we were stuck in a cycle, like I said before. We were just going to keep going around and around this way tearing little pieces out of each other until there was nothing left. There was never going to be any tenderness, any joy. It was all going to be this downward spiral with our jaws locked in each other's throats. And, Mare, I couldn't do that to you. I...care....too much... about you to do that to you.... The transfer was something I'd been thinking about for awhile as a last-ditch escape plan if all else failed, and that morning, I just decided to take it."

"So you ran away to try to end us hurting?" Her question was gentle, the tone softer than any he'd heard her use in a long time. He heard the sloshing sounds of water moving, realized that she was getting out of the tub. He continued to stare out over the horizon in front of him. Either she would accept his explanation or not. There wasn't a whole lot left he could say, now....

"Yeah. More or less."

"So you were going to leave ABQ, leave your home, leave everything here you love behind just to try to save me some pain and confusion?" Her voice was closer now, slightly skeptical, coming from behind him as she approached.

"Yeah."

"Then that makes you either the biggest hero or the biggest idiot I have ever met, Marshall. I'm not quite sure which." Her arms slid around his waist and she hugged him from behind. His eyes swept closed with the contact, with the affection in her voice, and something broken inside him started to heal.

"Probably the latter." He turned to wrap his arms around her. He held her tightly to him, rested his cheek against her hair enjoying the feeling of her nearness, the scent of her, the way she fit against him, those things he never thought he'd have again.

For her part, she was listening to the steady beat of his heart under the soft cotton of his winter flannel shirt and holding him as close as she could, breathing in the smell of him, of partner, of friend, of Marshall.

There was one more thing that she needed to know.

"Why did you come back?"

He smiled against the top of her head. "I was unhappy the minute I was gone. I was miserable by the time I got there. When I got your first phone messages, I was in despair. By the end of the second day, I was totally without hope and questioning every decision I'd ever made. Every call of yours I heard made it that much worse." His hands ran soothingly up and down the terrycloth of her robe-covered back. She nuzzled her face gently against his chest. It felt so good to be held again, to be close again.

"That's not an answer, Marshall...."

He chuckled softly, pulled away from her slightly, pulled her by the hand over to the bench seat that ran around the deck's edge. He sat down and tugged her lightly into his lap, cradled her there despite her irritated expression at the position. She reluctantly leaned against his shoulder, reached out to fiddle with the top button on his shirt.

"I'm still waiting. Idiot."

"I see you've made up your mind."

"I had some assistance here in the last moment or two that might have tipped the scales."

"Ah. Well. In that case. It was your last phone call that did it."

She remembered the call so well, remembered what she'd said and what she'd longed to say, what she'd wanted to plead for.

"Why did it make you want to come home, Marshall?" She stopped playing with the button and she looked up at him only to be snared by the utter intensity of the eyes that were waiting for hers.

"Because it was that phone call that gave me hope that I could come back here and have a chance to tell you something I've needed to tell you for a long, long time, Mare. Tell you like an honorable man, for better or for worse, and take my chances with it."

Her heart wasn't working properly. She had to be having palpitations or some kind of attack. It shouldn't be jumping around on her like this, skipping beats and speeding up.... Ohgodohgodohgod....

She licked her lips, unconsciously inviting. "What...what is it you want to tell me?" Her voice was less strong than she'd wanted it to be.....

His hand came up to trace the contour of her cheekbone, cup her face. His thumb traced gently over the bow of her lips. His eyes locked back on hers, and she felt all her bones turn to water.

"I need to tell you what you have to already know, Mare. I...love you. I have for a long time now. I'm not telling you this because I expect any kind of similar declaration from you. I'm not coming here to stake a claim on you now that you're free. I just need to tell you this so you can understand some of what's been going on. It's sort of the last piece of the puzzle, I guess."

The last of the pain of his leaving fled, chased out by the bright happiness of hearing those words. Had she known? Yes, she'd known it. She'd seen it in his eyes a hundred hundred times, when he'd held her back, held her up, or simply held her as the situation had called for it over the years. She'd seen it shining like newly-minted gold in those precious and incredible moments when they'd been together, when he'd touched her, whether his hands had been steady or shaking with need, and she'd known then, although she had not been ready to admit it to herself, that he had made her the center of his worlds. Now, the knowledge was welcome, was a healing balm to wounds that had gone too long untreated, and her battle-worn soul sighed with the peace of torment departing.

He was watching her intently, hand still cradling her face, and he saw flickering in her eyes...something...but it had been so long since he had had anything like a real hope that he feared to ask for one. Then she smiled. Her hand came up to slip into his hair, and she pulled his face down to hers, saying with her sudden kiss what her words had not yet told him. His heart, startled, pounded against her.

He pulled away, needing the words, needing to hear it after so long of being unsure, being denied.

"Mare?" he asked, and there was an eloquent universe in that question.

"I do," she answered. "It took me a long time to see it. I'm sorry, Marshall. I've been blind. I was trying so hard to make things work with Raph because I thought it was the right thing to do. I don't know why I couldn't see that the right thing had been standing beside me, walking with me all along." She kissed him again, softly, sweetly. He was trembling.

"Say it, please. Just once," he murmured against her lips.

She smiled against his kiss. "Looking for a binding verbal contract, are we?"

He smiled again, briefly, "With you? Absolutely."

She pushed away lightly and sat up, gently pushed his hair out of his face, looped her arms around his neck, curling her fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck, and stared into his eyes for a long moment.

"Okay...here goes...I love you, Marshall Mann." And she felt the shudder of response run all the way through him just before his hands spread across her back and pulled her tightly against him and his mouth slanted boldly and hungrily across hers.