Disclaimer: Still not mine... if I could create characters this amazing, I'd write my own show!
Warning: No particular new warnings, I just want to keep reminding folks we're dealing with child abuse in this story, juuuust in case somebody might forget that detail, and get caught off-guard or something.
Thanks so much for all your sweet reviews. It's wonderful to know others are enjoying this story as much as I am -- and to know my paragraphs aren't too painful to look at! Oh, and many thanks for all the reviews on my little one-shot, Attack of the Killer Stairwell... I just wanted to post it so that it couldn't torment me anymore, so the fact that y'all liked it is just that much more awesome. I'm still struggling with the ol' muse, but I wanted to pin down a little more of the story before I forgot to do this part. I am entirely unsure how to launch into Mary's insecurity, which is what I want to get into next, so I welcome advice on that. And if you want to beta for this story, let me know, because I've become attached to this story enough that I want it to rock, and therefore I'd love some consistent input and guidance.
Quick recap, we last left our favourite duo cuddled in Marshall's bed, having hashed out the whole abuse thing, admitted to being head over heels in love, and made plans to get Shelley the psychologist involved, and then Mary up and dropped yet another bomb on poor Marshall, who at this point is just about beside himself with wonder, excitement, and sheer exhaustion.
"Marshall, the reason I know I won't try to change who you are... I wanted so badly to change Raph was because I wanted him to be you."
"I... you... what?" Marshall reached behind him and flicked the bedside lamp on again, raising himself up on one elbow to peer at Mary. She wasn't sure if she should laugh, or roll her eyes in frustration that he hadn't figured that one out on his own yet. Annoyance won out, and she shot a look of disdain at him.
"I liked him because I wasn't emotionally invested. Less regret about breaking it off, that way. Turns out the downside to that one was that I really, really wanted a relationship I could be emotionally invested in... and it just wasn't."
"You wanted him to be me," Marshall repeated, confusion mingling with pure wonder in his frown, as he thought long and hard about this revelation.
"Is that not what I just said?" Mary asked herself.
"I'm just... wow." Mary rolled her eyes at his continued inability to construct a complete sentence, covering over amusement with annoyance, unwilling to let her feelings show, for reasons she still didn't really understand. "You know that's why I haven't been on more than a couple dates with the same woman the whole time we've worked together, right?" Marshall asked. Suddenly, it became Mary's turn to peer into her partner's eyes, brows knit together in utter confusion. Marshall smiled that easy, laid-back grin he had practically trademarked.
"Because... you..."
"Because they weren't you."
"God, Marshall, they were all meek and sweet and, and..." Marshall nodded at Mary's assessment.
"Yeah, the exact opposite of you. They were really nice, and it made for an interesting change, but... but they weren't you. I want you."
"Even with all my faults?" Mary asked, looking genuinely surprised now.
"Because of all your faults," Marshall corrected her. "Because every little piece, good and bad, all comes together to form the person I love." Mary found herself without words, simply staring open-mouthed at Marshall, who was still looming over her, leaning on his elbow. "So... can I kiss you?" he asked, after the pair had watched each other for a minute or so. Mary blinked.
"Are you going to ask for permission every time, because if you are, we're going to have to change that, at least." She expected Marshall to sling some verbal barb in return, but instead, he brushed her hair away from her face, as tenderness joined dead-seriousness in his gaze.
"Like I said earlier, Mer, being best friends doesn't mean I automatically know how you want to be treated by a dating partner. And tonight, I don't want to trigger any flashbacks or anything, not after you already had nightmares." Mary shifted her eyes uncomfortably at that. "What?" Marshall asked, wondering what he'd just missed. Mary turned onto her back so she could look more fully into his face.
"I didn't have nightmares tonight... I didn't even try to go to bed tonight, at home. They've just been so bad for the past week..." she explained, her voice trailing off to silence.
"Were you getting that weird feeling like after you got kidnapped, again?" Mary nodded in reply.
"Every time I even looked at my bed. I couldn't stand it any longer," came the reply. Marshall lay down again, yawning, and put the light back out. He wrapped his arms tightly around his best friend, still unable to really believe she was maybe, just maybe, his girlfriend now, too. And yet, he thought as his lips almost instinctively found hers in the dark, there certainly wasn't any other word to describe the woman who immediately latched onto his kiss, taking the lead so he would know how much she was comfortable with tonight. It was strange, he thought... kissing her caused his chest to tighten with a sense of love and protectiveness so strong, it literally hurt. Usually kisses affected him just a tad lower than that... but, well, this was Mary, unlike any woman he'd ever dated in his entire life. Why should kissing her be like anybody else, either?
"I'm glad you came to me," he whispered when they broke apart. Mary just nodded against him. He hadn't really expected her to say much in response. He knew her tendency toward isolation had to be screaming bloody murder by now, after all. But she was still laying in his arms, at least. As much as he knew she was afraid, that she wanted to run and hide, she hadn't given in to the fear yet tonight. It was a start.
"Tomorrow morning," Marshall began, thinking that it'd probably be more like afternoon when they woke up, "we'll get you some time with Shelley, and start to work out some of this stuff. But for tonight..." Marshall paused, sighing a couple times.
"Spit it out, Marshall," came the terse response in the dark. He smiled at that.
"This isn't going to be an easy road. We're going to both screw up at times... just because your story is particularly awful doesn't mean you're the only one with baggage to deal with. But I love you... I'm not just in love with you, I don't just have feelings for you, I mean love, the verb. I want the best for you, I want you to be happy, to forgive and be forgiven, to accept the struggles... I love you. No matter how painful things get as you deal with the past, and with the present, I want you to remember, to believe, that I love you, Mary Shannon, exactly as you are. And I always have." He felt more than heard Mary's shaky gasp at his words... knowing that it was a lot of deep stuff he was throwing at her at... at some ungodly hour. But he needed her to hear it, before she had the chance to recoil in fear, before the hard part of figuring out how to live day to day, before any of that came creeping back to torment them both.
"I've always felt loved by you, Marshall... that deep sort of unconditional love that I've been seeking for a very long time. And I know it doesn't show a lot, through the hard exterior, but... but I do love you, too, like you just defined it." Marshall nodded, rubbing his chin on the top of her head in the process.
"I know you feel.. well, I don't want to tell you how you feel, but I know you feel like your ability to communicate love often... gets lost in translation, shall we say. But know that the message is being received."
"You mean I wasn't throwing you off the scent all those times I called you numbnuts?" Mary said quietly, mostly-asleep. Marshall just chuckled at her, nuzzling her hairline with his nose as he held her close. Tomorrow, they would start to shine light on the shadowy corners of her soul, that others had so badly injured over the years. But for tonight, this was enough for the both of them.
Short, I know, but transitions kill me. There's a reason I specialize in powerful one-shots usually! Mary's probably going to try to bolt, soon... I would. I usually do if things get half as vulnerable as this, so she's got to be in a sheer panic by now, I figure. It's just taking a while to figure out how she would express those feelings, and how Marshall's going to react, if he's going to still remember to chase after her, even after exposing such a delicate part of his own heart.