Disclaimer, warnings, and other notes: Still not mine. I did not take the time to check spelling on Shelley's name, against the credits on the show. I'll do that, and correct if it's wrong, later. We have a bonus racy scene (yeah that got your attention, didn't it?) today, which is getting up there, but the rating is still at T because it doesn't strike me as different from what I see on prime-time TV. Their, um, private time is not going to get much more explicit than it does in this chapter, though. This chapter didn't go exactly where I had in mind, but I like where it's headed, so I decided to let it live.
I'm going to be slow updating (or rather, about as slow as I have been the past couple posts) as my parents have need for me to stay with them off and on, and they live just east of Flipping Nowhere. Great if you like watching the goats while writing, not so great for googling, seeking inspiration, posting, and all that. And I've spell-checked and re-read this a dozen times, but I've also not slept since three days ago, so if there are too many errors, please somebody let me know! Thanks again to all of you wonderful people who've taken the time to review, favorite, put on alert, or even just read. Seeing you enjoy my story makes it all the more fun to write!
The first thing that registered in Marshall's mind when he woke up was sun, and lots of it.. far more than than the early riser should be seeing in late autumn. And cold... very cold, even though he'd already gotten out his flannel sheets and feather blanket, for the winter. Disoriented, he opened one eye, intending to ease into wakefulness as he tried to recall how he'd overslept so badly. But the day had no intention of allowing him to ease into it, he realized, as he took in the sight of his blankets, rolled up like a burrito next to him, silky blonde hair pooling from the end. Blech. He'd been hoping and praying that it had been some kind of weird dream, but the whole horrible, wonderful night came to mind as he processed what he was seeing. Mary, in his bed, with the comforter. Marshall chuckled almost silently to himself as scenes from the movie Clue sprang to mind. He reached out gently, trying to find the corner of the blanket, to figure out how to reclaim some of his blanket before he froze to death in his own bed, pulling gently with the hope that she would sleep through this. Mary moaned quietly and pulled against him, trying to keep sole custody of the blankets.
"Hey, come on, I'm freezing over here," Marshall said softly. Mary whined, but she loosened her grip, allowing Marshall to straighten the blankets to fit over both of them. "Thank you," he whispered, letting his head hit the pillow again. He needed to get up, to start breakfast, to help her call the psychologist, or maybe even make the call for her... in five minutes, he promised himself. Marshall breathed in and out, allowing himself to simply feel the cocoon of bedding around him, the firm but reassuring pressure of the mattress forming to his body and the warm weight of his blankets.
Once he felt ready to face the day, he pulled the blankets back, intent on getting up. His companion, however, apparently had other ideas. Mary's hands reached out from her side of the bed, fingers sliding along the waistband of his t-shirt before deftly slipping beneath to caress his chest. Marshall groaned at the sensation. There was that tightening a bit lower than the chest, he thought, remembering his odd reaction to last night's kisses. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to let her continue, but in one sobering instant, reality came crashing through, entirely spoiling his arousal. This was Mary, who had no problem at all with sex, but relationships, especially the sort that ideally should go with... well, that was a problem. He knew she'd probably panic and try to detach, after last night's brutal honesty, but he hadn't even thought of her using sex to detach from her emotions, had never realized that she viewed it as a tool to control others, and to control her own heart, until now.
Realizing that her hands were heading southward, he reached out and grabbed them, using them to pull her into a loose hug. Mary paused for a moment, then shifted her tactics to kissing and suckling at Marshall's neck. This woman was trying to kill him, he thought, momentarily lost to the sensation before rational thought returned to him. Now really wasn't the time to explain why he wasn't okay with doing this. Think, he chided his brain, as he tried to come up with a convincing reason to stop... not that his brain wanted to stop, any more than his body did, but Marshall was nothing if not committed to the idea that you always do what's right, whether or not you want to. Finally, something that his mother had told him years ago came back to him. That's it, that'll work, and it's even almost true.
"Mary, wait..." he finally said, not at all convincingly, but she paused anyway and peered up into his eyes. He could already see the sting of rejection in her eyes. Crap. Only Mary could figure out how to be so damn appealing, and so convinced that nobody was interested, all at the same time. "I have a rule, I don't get this intimate this quick in a relationship."
"We've been partners for years," she replied, returning to the task of devouring his shoulder.
"Yes, but.. oh geez that feels good... but not dating partners, Mer." Mary stopped again, backing up to look more fully at him, shock and confusion written all over her face.
"Seriously?" Marshall nodded, almost wincing at the thought. "Since when?"
"Since forever... my mom always told us growing up, we should wait for marriage," Marshall said, pausing for Mary to scoff at the notion, before he shot her a pointed look, and continued. "Or, at least we should take six months and honestly get to know the girl first. I don't know how I should even begin to apply a waiting period here, but Mary, every time I've ever broken that rule, I've regretted it terribly, and it's ended up hurting me, and the woman, very badly. I'm not willing to do that to you."
"You seriously wait six months?" Mary asked, apparently still hung up on that part. Marshall nodded. "I guess that's why you're not worried about the origami hurting your chances of getting laid. So what, do we get to hold hands and pretend we're in junior high?" Marshall wanted to give her a withering laugh, at the thought, but he knew that no matter how gently he put his foot down, that she would be hurt just a little bit by it.
"I'm fine with anything that we could do in public, and not get arrested."
"Then why did you stop me just now? I know it's pushing the limits, but you CAN do that and not get arrested... more, if we go to the wrong side of town." Marshall just stared at his companion. Seriously? Biting his lip to help keep his rational mind in control of his body, rather than the other way around, he pulled her more fully into his embrace, making certain she felt exactly how much he had enjoyed her presence already this morning before he stared directly, hauntingly, into her eyes. "Jesus, Marshall..." she muttered, glancing away with a sheepish smile as her face went pink. He allowed himself a second or two to take just a little pride in having provoked that reaction, before he became serious again.
"Because this is my last chance to put on the brakes before it's too late, and I'm serious, Mary, I can't hurt you like that. A long time ago, you told me it's my job to protect you, and if I'm going to do that job, I'm going to do it all the way." Mary secretly loved the emotions that flooded her heart at his words... safe, protected, loved. And for the barest instant she wished she could express all of that, instead of hiding behind her usual prickly, sarcastic exterior. But she couldn't do it, she realized, and really Marshall would have been freaked out if she could.
"Fine, but you need to figure out that six-month mark and put it on the calendar, so I can be prepared," she huffed. Okay, Marshall thought. Six months... that should be enough time to sort out not only his own issues, but Mary's, with the psychologist. He just hoped he could last that long.
Mary sat on the sofa in Marshall's living room, completely overwhelmed by the speed at which her life was changing. It hadn't even been 24 hours since she'd come over and confessed her nightmares to her partner... boyfriend... whatever. And she was already sitting face to face with the department-approved psychologist, explaining that her personal issues weren't causing a problem at work, and that Marshall had called Shelley because both partners wanted to keep it that way. Mary still wasn't exactly fond of this woman, especially given that she'd been out on a date with Marshall once upon a time, and even though she'd ended the date early to get back with her ex, it was evident that the woman was still just a little bit interested in Mary's man.
Mary almost gasped with shock as the words came into her brain. Her man? She'd never felt like she ought to lay claim to a dating partner before, ever... possibly because for the most part they were sexual partners, not dating material, but it was still awkward to her as she let the words roll around in her brain. My man... my Mann. Mary almost groaned at the level of geekiness her brain had just stooped to. Marshall would have been impressed if he'd been able to see that one, she thought, shoving it aside to deal with more annoying matters. Shelley had asked, finally, what these personal issues were that they were to deal with. Mary stared at the woman, sitting across from her on the sofa, then glared in annoyance at Marshall, who'd taken up residence in the recliner, forcing the women to share the couch in the first place.
Marshall, for his part, sat up just a little straighter, just a little more alert to the vibes his partner seemed to be shooting at him. Annoyance, yes, but there was a great deal of stress and insecurity along with. Marshall cleared his throat, interrupting Mary's quiet thinking.
"Do you want me to clear out of here?" he asked. He was strongly opposed to leaving Mary alone today, but he realized suddenly that that should be her choice, regardless of his preferences. Mary shook her head.
"This is going to sound really stupid, but..." Mary began, then faltered.
"If you think it sounds stupid, that's fine, but I'm just here to listen, Mary, not judge," Shelley said, encouraging her patient to go on.
"It's easy to tell Marshall," Mary said in a rush. Marshall's eyebrows shot up. Last night was easy? How the hell did this woman define difficult, then, he wondered briefly, before realizing that his partner was still talking. "Can you just observe while I tell him again?" Shelley smiled at Mary's request.
"Would it help if I stood behind you, so you can try to forget I'm here?"
"No, that's silly," Mary replied, as if there wasn't anything remotely silly about her plan in the first place. "I've just had practice doing it this way already, and I almost feel comfortable with it." Mary glanced at Marshall, then pointedly stared at the floor beside the couch, obviously hinting that he should move. He unfolded himself from the recliner and sat on the floor, nearly at eye level with his partner who, despite being by no means short, was quite petite compared to his tall frame. Marshall took her hands in his and took a deep breath, not sure he was ready to hear the story again, but committed to doing whatever she needed. It's what she would do for him, after all.
This time, he focused on watching Mary's eyes as she told her story, watching the fear and pain, and underneath those the anger, come into clear view. He hated to see that flashing rage in her, but in this case, he had to concede that it could be a good thing. It's when a woman isn't angry and offended, Marshall had learned, that you needed to really worry about things. Mary skillfully left out the latter parts of last night's chat, the bits about being afraid of losing her protector if he found out, merely mentioning that she did sometimes fear, however irrationally, that people would abandon her if they knew. When she was finished, Marshall sat still, holding her gaze for just a moment longer. He wanted to pull her into his lap and hold her, kissing the top of her head until all the bad parts of her past somehow evaporated. But he knew she wasn't comfortable with public displays of affection; even though she had once admitted to him that she often felt so disconnected from humanity, and so craved touch, that her skin actually ached. Which, once he thought of it, was probably related to her difficult past, but that was an issue to file away for later. He squeezed her hands before getting up off the floor and returning to the recliner. Mary turned her attention back to Shelley, who was bobbing her head slowly as she frowned in thought.
"I have to admit, I'm not exactly an expert in child sexual abuse," Shelley began, "but there are some strong parallels to the kinds of trauma that I do specialize in. And I understand that the secretive nature of your work limits your options. So I'm comfortable dealing with these issues. But Mary, I'm going to work you hard because I know you have high standards for yourself, but you are not going to like some of it You are not going to like me, most of the time. But you need to see it through."
"I didn't expect it to be easy," Mary muttered.
"Well, there's first day at the gym hard, and then there's Marine boot camp hard. I know you want the latter, but that's going to take a few months, and before you get halfway through you're going to want to quit. Don't." Mary nodded her agreement. "I'd also like to get a list of issues you're concerned about in specific, so I can be prepared, and we can make the most efficient use of your time. And if it's all right with you, I'd like to get a list from Marshall, too, since he knows you best. Do you feel comfortable splitting up for this part?" Mary nodded again. Marshall, without being asked, stood up and made his way toward the bedroom.
"Just let me know when you need me," he said as he left the room. Mary watched him go, partly because she was waiting to hear the door close before she started, but partly because she didn't really want him to go. But, Shelley had been right, she realized, as she briefly summarized her issues with trust, relationships, and love. This wasn't stuff she wanted to admit in front of her partner, even if he did already know. When they were finished, Mary traded places with Marshall, wondering what he would say, and if he would share that information later. The two seemed to be taking forever, which only served to increase Mary's nervousness, and a strange sense of jealousy began to creep up as she heard laughter now and then. She didn't honestly, rationally believe that a man who confessed to being hopelessly in love with her would be screwing around with her therapist the next afternoon. But, well... Raph had slept with his physical therapist after proposing, so she didn't exactly feel confident that the goings-on in the living room were completely innocent, either.
Marshall, for his part, had taken advantage of this opportunity to talk privately, to share his concerns about Mary's apparent use of intimacy as a tool to control, and to turn off her mental and emotional process, to disconnect rather than to connect. The two of them chuckled from time to time as they discussed the evidence Marshall had seen, in her relationships, to come to this conclusion, but underneath it all, he admitted his deep concern for his partner's emotional well-being. Shelley wrote this all down in her folder, which Marshall observed had been carefully labeled with false names and information, for added security.
"And how long have you two been dating?" Shelley asked, as the discussion wound down. Damn. Deer in the headlights, again. What was it with women sitting on this couch and proceeding to scare the hell out of him? Shelley laughed at his response. "You were hiding it well. I just kind of saw it coming from the day I met you both."
"Do you call it dating if the couple only admitted their feelings at two in the morning?" Marshall asked, uncertainty evident on his face.
"What, two o'clock this morning?" Shelley replied. Marshall nodded. "I'm pretty sure you call it insomnia." Marshall chuckled at that. Yes, this was part of why he'd liked this woman enough to go out with her the one time, he thought. But still, she was nothing like Mary. His Mary. That was going to take time to get used to, he mused, but he wouldn't have things any other way. As their conversation wound down, they got up and made their way to the foyer, and Marshall called Mary back down the hall from her hiding place. He noticed something was off about her immediately, but Shelley didn't seem to realize it, so he played it cool until the door closed, and Mary turned to face him, leaning against it.
"Don't ever do that again," she said in the same forceful tone she tended to use with witnesses.
"Let guests into my home?" he guessed, confused.
"Meet with her alone." Marshall simply raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. "I'm sorry, but after Raph proposed to me and then slept with Fat Judy, and then you and Shelley went on a date that one time... I just can't take it. If you want to meet with her alone, go sit out back, so I can see, at least."
Marshall smiled sadly at his best friend, still leaning against the door. It had hurt, to be told that she didn't trust him alone with another woman, but Mary did have a point. She'd been badly hurt in her last relationship, and Marshall had had enough of a passing interest in Shelley to have dinner with her once. This distrust was painful, but not entirely unreasonable. And she'd actually told him what was wrong, instead of stewing about it until she exploded. He nodded in acceptance of her request.
"No problem Just tell me what you need." To anyone else, his statement made no sense. Mary had already told him what she needed, after all. But she understood the unspoken message of reassurance. Just tell him, because asking implied that he could say yes or no; she needed only to itemize and he would make sure it got done, no matter what. And she heard the encouragement to tell him what she needed, right now, to soothe her fearful heart. She pondered that for just a moment.
"I don't suppose I could talk you into what we almost did this morning..?" she asked, getting a smile and a shake of the head from Marshall. "Yeah, didn't think so. I think I need to go home, Marshall. I need a shower, and I only packed clothes for one night." Marshall's stomach seemed to drop straight through the floor at her words. He hadn't counted on her deciding to leave. She didn't live with him, he knew, but... leave? When she was so liable to run away? He didn't like it, not one bit. But, it was what she needed, so she would get it. He nodded his agreement.
"I'll go get your suitcase," he muttered, already partway down the hall.
"Leave it," she said, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to meet his partner's eyes. "I'm just going to bring more clothes back with me anyway, after my shower. Might as well leave the dirty stuff here too, so it'll get washed." Marshall had tried to play it cool, but he couldn't stop the goofy grin from spreading across his face at her words. More clothes... after her shower. He had no idea how long she was staying, but right now, he didn't care. She wasn't running, not yet, and that's all that mattered at the moment. Marshall leaned over to kiss the love of his life before shooing her out the door, so she'd get back all the sooner.
"And you'd better have dinner ready when I get back!" she groused, an equally-goofy smile spoiling her attempt at a snarky tone as she strode to her car with more confidence than he'd seen in quite some time. So this is what Mary looked like in love, he mused, watching her go. It definitely suited her, he decided, before swinging the door shut and turning his attention to dinner preparations.
Aww, so she's coming back for a few days, at least. I've no idea how long she's going to stay... probably until Shelley pisses her off real good the first time or two. We'll have to see how that unfolds. Thanks for reading!