Author's Note: Yay! A few people are still reading. That makes me happy. This chapter happened much faster than I'd anticipated. Cheers for writer's block lifting! (cheers) Once again, I own nothing. I get paid nothing for this (and piddling little for anything else). I just have fun with Marshall and Mary, then I go about my actual business. I'm sending virtual hugs to all reviewers and not-so-virtual thanks. (so...THANKS). Shutting up now. Read!

After her shower, Mary copied down Marshall's notes into her own handwriting. That made them infinitely easier to read. She'd been studying for a little over an hour when she sensed her partner standing close behind her. Turning her head to glance over her shoulder, she quirked an eyebrow at him in question.

He didn't answer right away; just continued to alternately look at her and her notes. Finally. "What are you doing?"

"I'm studying, Doofus. Aren't you supposed to be some sort of genius or something?"

"Why?" Perhaps this conversation would yield a satisfying answer if posed while they were both sober.

"There's an exam, you know? CE credits?"

"Yeah. I know that." Her explanation left quite a bit to be desired. "But why are you killing yourself like this?"

"I'm hardly dying, Marshall. Don't be so melodramatic." She turned away from him and concentrated on her pen. If she looked in his eyes any longer she'd likely spill and tell him everything. His eyes were too caring. Too concerned. They saw her too well.

"But why all this?" He gestured to the desk, spread with all her notes and highlighters and pens. "Why are you spending this much time on the stuff? You could pass the exam without even going to the lectures. Why all this…effort?"

"I'm not allowed to try?" She failed to meet his questioning gaze.

"That's not what I mean, Mare." He wasn't doing this right. She was going to get defensive if she thought he was attacking her. "I just don't understand, that's all. I thought you'd view this as a vacation or something. Hang out. Sight see. Have fun."

"Exam!" She reminded him.

He realized that the she was actually telling him why, just not in so many words. It was about the exam, sort of. It was about her score on the exam. She wanted to do well. He thought back to their conversation the night before, and her words echoed in his head. "Some of us have to work a little harder to learn things." God. It all made sense. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? They'd never attended one of these seminars together before. There was always some sort of exam. Usually it was merely a perfunctory test of whether or not they had a pulse. Nothing to worry about. But Mary had him for a partner. And he learned things easily. And she wanted to prove she could keep up. That she wasn't outclassed intellectually. So she was working her butt off to learn every last detail – all the little details that she typically relied on him to offer when they were working.

"You want to get a better score than I do." He observed, the cause finally dawning on him.

Her lack of response was as much of an answer than any spoken words could ever be.

Sighing, he sat on the bed and stared a hole in the back of her blonde covered head. Had he done this? Was he responsible for making her feel like she was somehow less than he? He'd wondered about this the night before, but he'd never realized she was worried about actual, physical proof of her fears. She was sitting statue still. Stiff. Nervous. Staring at her paper, but he guessed she wasn't actually seeing it. He reached out and grasped her wrist, fingers easily overlapping as they encased her limb.

"Come here, Mare." He said softly as he gently tugged her arm to get her out of the desk chair. "Come here for a minute." She resisted, but only briefly, then rose and sat beside him as he requested.

"Mary, I'm concerned." He had to be careful with his words. He'd rather cut out his own tongue than offend her. Hurt her. "I'm worried that I have somehow left you feeling like I…like I think I'm…of superior intellect…than are you." It sounded similar to the talk he'd given her yesterday, but chances were pretty good that she didn't remember it. She'd had a lot to drink. He could remind her if she needed. He could remind her every day if that's what it took.

She made no effort to respond, so he took a deep breath and continued.

"This exam…any exam…it's not a measure of intelligence. It's even a poor measure of even what they taught in the seminar. It's nothing. It's not important. It doesn't mean anything at all. Studies have shown that multiple choice exams are not a fair assessment of anyone's knowledge. Essay exams are far superior assessments, but given the scale of the class, are hardly a logical choice for such measures."

She opened her mouth, and he thought she was about to reply, but she clamped her jaw shut quickly with a snap.

"Please talk to me, Mare." He kept his voice low and soft as he grasped her right hand in both of his. "Don't shut me out."

Her gaze fell to her lap, but her eyes flitted over to their clasped hands. Her hand encased in both of his. Gentle hands. Always kind to her. Always caring. Careful. She needed to answer him. He deserved an answer.

"I don't want you to…" She hesitated. "I don't want you to think that I'm…" She didn't finish. It sounded silly to her, and she couldn't bring herself to speak the words aloud. Marshall would never judge her, and she loved him for that. This was not a problem with her partner. This was a problem with herself, and she knew that, too. She usually covered up for her own fears about her shortcomings. Parlayed them into attitude and anger. Channeled her emotions into snark and sass so he would fail to see the real, scared little girl that lurked just beneath the surface.

Marshall closed both of his eyes and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. He gripped her hand tighter in his, and tugged her closer to him, let go with his left hand and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Mary." He started softly. "You're the smartest person I know, and I'm not just saying that to appease you."

"I know I'm not stupid." She protested, trying to push him away. Her efforts failed, and he held on tightly. "I just…I know…I'm not…you."

"And?" He wanted…needed…her to know how highly he thought of her.

"And…that's it."

"No, it's not." He tightened his arm around her shoulders, and finally allowed himself to kiss her temple. "Tell me." He pleaded softly as his lips brushed gently against her soft skin.

She didn't react to the chaste kiss, and glanced at him without turning her head; eyes uncertain. "Marshall…" Hell, she might as well just tell him. He was giving her sad eyes, and she could never say no to that. "I didn't try that hard at school." He nodded. "I just wonder what would happen if I DID try."

"And?" He prompted.

Damn him. He knows her too well. "And I wanted to at least get a score close to yours." Her competitive spirit roared it's blonde head.

Ah. He was right. Somehow, this didn't make him feel better. "Because?"

"Because I knew you'd ace it without trying."

"And you wanted to prove yourself to me." He hated that she felt she still needed to prove herself to him. How had he not translated his respect to her? This woman, this fierce, bull-headed woman had spent a lifetime trying to prove herself to the world. Prove that she was good enough to love. To accept. To not leave.

She shrugged in response, and he pulled her even closer, abandoning his own concerns for personal safety and kissing her forehead again. She had kissed him first. True, he'd been recently shot, bleeding, and struggling to breathe, but the fact held fast. She'd kissed his cheek. Now he'd returned the favor.

"How about we keep our scores separate. Always." That eliminated all competition. He wouldn't tell her how he did. She wouldn't tell him how she did. They would keep that aspect separate from their relationship.

"Sure." She was stiffening, and he knew he'd have to let go any moment now. "Sounds good."

"Wanna go have some fun?" He knew she was uncomfortable with the seriousness of the conversation, and would desperately want to segue into a new topic. But, if she was going to pull away from him, he was going to fight it.

"Fun?" She made a very "Mary" face at him, and he relaxed a bit.

"You know. Go out. Enjoy ourselves. See the sights." He nudged her shoulder with his own and tried to make her smile. She did.

"Marshall, we're in Quantico, Virginia. There are no sights." She chuckled at him despite herself.

"There's some Marine Corps museum around here." He shrugged. "We could go see that."

"Aren't you dragging me around the Smithsonian all day Saturday?" She turned her face towards him, and he was relieved to see the light dancing in her green eyes.

"And your point being?"

"I'm not spending another day traipsing around another museum on this trip."

"Okay. How about…" He really was out. There wasn't much in this town except for the FBI and the Corps. "Dinner?"

Mary was always up for food. "What kind?"

"Hold on." He grabbed his laptop and typed for a few moments. "Mediterranean?"

She considered it for a moment. "Sure. My treat." She knew she owed him from their foray into alcoholism and local color the previous evening.

"If you want." He'd never hold her to it.

"I don't mind." She'd been keeping track. She owed him. Picking up the tab at that Italian place a few nights ago barely tipped the balance. If she was truly honest with herself, she knew she owed him more than a few meals. He'd been a true friend to her. Her first true friend. Well, her first true friend that wasn't Katie. Oh. Katie. She resolved to fix that relationship as soon as she got back to New Mexico. If her cousin would forgive her, that is. All she could do is try. She couldn't bear having two important relationships in flux at the same time. While she figured out this Marshall thing, she'd at least have Katie to lean on. She needed to lean on Katie for a while. Hopefully her smaller cousin could stand the load a while.

"You with me?" He was ready to go, but she hadn't budged from the mattress.

She met his gaze and swallowed. "I'm going to call Katie when we get back. Make things good."

"Good. I'm glad." He was, too. He liked Katie. And he liked Mary and Katie together. They were good for each other. Mary relaxed around Katie, and Katie was grounded by Mary. Looked up to her. Idolized her. Brandi idolized her, too, but in a largely ineffectual manner.

He reached for her as she stood and fingered her cheek again with soft finger tips. "I don't think it's going to bruise."

"He barely touched me, Marshall. You can stop fussing." A few years ago that would have been "stop fussing," and a few years before that she would have just ripped his hands off. Today there was no malice or irritation coloring her voice. A slight smile and an appreciative face were his reward today. No fight. No annoyance. Nothing. Just acceptance that he was going to fuss over her occasionally. When had she stopped minding?

She was quiet over dinner, and Marshall could tell she was mulling something over in her head. He let her pay, because he knew she'd fight him on it, and he'd rather accept her generosity than insult her by refusing. He did drive to a coffee shop, though, and ordered them both coffee and desert while she was in the lady's room. He'd already paid by the time she emerged, so there was little argument.

"Who gets the strawberry rhubarb?" The waitress asked cheerfully after Mary was seated.

Marshall noticed the way Mary's eyebrows shot up and her eyes got wider with interest. "She does." He nodded in the direction of his partner.

"Okay." The waitress sat the desert down in front of Mary, and continued. "And is the pecan for you or the sweet potato?" She glanced around the table, but found only the two of them.

"Mare?" He asked, wondering which one she'd want to share.

"Please. Like I could pick." She was waiting to start in on her pie. Waiting until he received his.

"We'll split them both." He informed the waitress. "You can just set them anywhere."

"Okay." She sat the pie pieces down in the center of the table. "I'll be right back with your coffee."

"Pecan and sweet potato?" Mary smirked at him.

"We're south of the Mason-Dixon line." He shrugged and dug his fork into Mary's pie when she shoved it to the center of the table, intending to share it. "It seemed appropriate." He swallowed. "This is good." He pointed to "her" pie and made a face that clearly said "how is it?"

"I'm not complaining." She dug into the pecan. "I'm an equal opportunity…uh…pie connoisseur." She chewed for a moment and made an approving sound. "And it's delicious. You have to try it!" Her mouth was full, and Marshall smiled. She was adorable sometimes. Especially when it came to food.

"Sweet potato's good, too." He assured her as he took a sip of coffee. "Have some."

Because he said so, and because she trusted him, she did. Even though the thought of eating a pie made of potatoes made her queasy in the middle, she took a small bite. Her eyes lit up as she savoured the experience.

"Good, huh?" Marshall smiled. He loved it that she trusted him. Cherished the knowledge, and vowed to never do anything to make himself undeserving. "My grandma makes the best sweet potato pie in Texas. Pecan, too. She…" He stopped himself. "Made. She made the best pies."

This was the first Mary had heard him speak of his grandmother. "I'm so sorry, Marshall. Was it recent?"

"No." He reassured her. "Years ago. I just…we were close. I forget sometimes, that's all."

"Yeah?" He nodded. "Tell me about her?" She posed it as a question because she rarely asked him directly about his past. She wasn't sure how he'd react. If he'd acquiesce. Be offended.

"She was great." His voice was soft, and had a wistful quality to it. "Loved her grandsons. All of us. But I always thought I was her favorite." He smiled at the memory, and Mary did as well.

"We'd spend a couple of weeks every summer at her house, and she'd spoil us rotten. When I was really little, my dad got reassigned temporarily for a few months. She insisted I stay with her on the farm instead of "gallivanting around the country like a hooligan.""

"It was fun." Mary knew he wasn't in Virginia at that moment. He was back in the Texas hill country, running through fields of blue bonnets chasing a dog named Skip. "She gave me a pistol and a towel for my college graduation. Antique. It'd been hers. It has green mother of pearl on the handle, and the case it came in is matching green leather. She said she was going to give me a gun as green as I am, and she hoped I'd learn to use it right."

"What was the towel for?" Mary inquired curiously.

"To dry behind my ears." He said around a bite.

Mary chuckled at his impression of his beloved grandma. He thickened his accent and smiled in memory.

"And she made pie?" Mary desperately wanted to steer the conversation in a happier direction. She wasn't sure she could deal with sad Marshall right now. She didn't want him to be melancholy.

"The best." He nodded as he took another bite of strawberry rhubarb. "Won every year at the county fair. A couple of times at the Texas State Fair."

Mary was in awe of her partner's idyllic childhood. County fairs and adoring relatives. Pies and farms and dogs. He'd probably had a curfew and been grounded a few times, too. So vastly different from her life. She'd yearned for that normalcy when she was younger. Dreamed of carefree summers and rope swings and swimming holes. Bare feet on warm, hard dirt. Lemonade and popsicles melting down your arm in the muggy heat of summer. What would that be like? She'd met his father, was aware that his life hadn't been the perfect picture she'd held in her head all these years. Still, though, it was hard to shake the image. And if she was truly honest with herself, parts of her that she tried valiantly to bury deep inside still ached for some of that innocence. Simple. Pure. When had her life been any of those things?

They chatted about mundane things while they sipped their coffee and finished up the deserts. Mary took smaller bites and quit earlier because she was a girl, and watching her weight, and because he'd paid. She was trying to be more considerate of him. She wasn't sure if she was doing it right, though. She slept on the floor, but she'd still invaded his space. She made him go the gym with her earlier that day. Sometimes she wasn't a very good friend.

Marshall was watching her face as she slowly chewed. Something was bothering her. She was frowning.

"Mare?"

"I'm sorry." She blurted out.

"You're sorry?" He didn't follow. "For what?"

"I'll move back to my room." She was good at this. She was great at running. "I shouldn't have invaded space like that."

"Why are you leaving?" His heart caught in his throat. Was she upset about last night?

"I…Marshall, where did you sleep last night?"

He paused and considered his options. In the event that she'd awakened during the night, it seemed imprudent to lie to her. Beyond that, he hated the idea of lying to his best friend. "I slept on the bed." He answered her honestly.

"Is that what this is about?" Was she upset with him? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I…the room was cold, and you were on the blanket. I was worried you'd get cold. And I was a little tipsy, and should have known better. I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad at you, Ninny." She tried to relieve some of his tension. "I just should have stayed in my own room the whole time. You shouldn't feel like you have to shelter and feed me, too."

"Mary," He started, and realized he had no idea where to go from there. "I don't feel like I have to do anything. There are things I want to do. There are things I don't mind doing. Being your friend isn't a chore." It's a privilege.

"Still. I'll move back to my own…"

"No." He cut her off. "Even I can't stand that girl. I can't subject you to that. Not when there's a perfectly reasonable solution that's been working just fine the past few days. If you're uncomfortable, why don't we get an air mattress. And some blankets. And a pillow. I'll take the air mattress. You take the bed. You'll be more comfortable."

It was so perfectly Marshall to insist she stay. To suggest an air mattress. To want her to be comfortable. "No, Marshall."

"I'm not taking no for an answer, Mary." He really didn't mind having her around. She made him laugh. She was his best friend. He loved her company. Welcomed it. Relished it.

"Marshall!" She was exasperated, but had no rebuttal.

"Come on." He urged her to her feet. "Let's go shopping."

"This is ridiculous, you know." She protested all the way to the car. "It's Thursday. We only have three nights left. The floor is fine. I like the floor." Okay, so she didn't actually like the floor. More importantly, she really didn't want to spend the money for an air bed to use for three nights only to have to leave it in Virginia because her suitcase was already too full to take it back with her.

"I'll spring for it." He soothed. "And I'm sleeping on it, too."

"No. It's your room!" She nudged him with her hip. "I'm not kicking you out of your own bed."

"My bed is in Albuquerque." He nudged her right back. "This is just a mattress. And did you or did you not sleep better on the bed last night?"

"I slept better because I was drunk off my ass." She retorted with a snort. "And so were you."

He didn't respond, because she was possibly right. He checked his GPS and smiled. "The closest Target is in Dumfries. Shall we?"

"No. This is silly. It's a wasted expense."

"Then what do you suggest? Hotel? Motel? KOA?"

She laughed, but shook her head. "Nothing. If I'm staying with you, then I still sleep on the floor. You take the bed. You paid for it."

"Yeah. No can do, Mare. My mamma raised me better than that. Let a lady sleep on the floor." He mumbled that last part quietly, and Mary giggled a little.

"No one's ever made the mistake of calling me a lady before." She eyed him evilly, then added. "And lived."

He just smiled.

"I've been on the floor the past…"

"Yeah, well, she'd have my hide if she knew. So let's fix this. Easy fix."

"Nothing's broken, Marshall. Nothing needs fixing."

"I'm not letting you sleep on the floor again, Mare. I can't." He paused. "It can't be good for your back, and I see you shivering at night."

"Well they don't have to chill the place like a fricking meat locker." She grumbled.

"So, if you sleeping on the floor isn't an option, which I'm telling you that it isn't, and moving back in with Blondie McBimbo, as you so artfully named her, is also not an option, and you nixed the hotel idea, what exactly do you propose?"

She sighed because she knew she wasn't going to win this one. He wasn't lying when he said his mamma raised him right. She had. And if Mary ever met the woman, she was going to need to thank her profusely for creating the wonderful creature that was sitting in front of her. "I don't know."

"Well, if you don't want to get the air bed, and I don't want you to leave or sleep on the floor, and you won't let me sleep on the floor, then the only logical solution is for us to share." Marshall offered hesitantly, unsure of how she would respond. Given the impasse at which they found themselves, it seemed the only logical option.

The offer was tempting. The room was cold, and frankly, Marshall was like a furnace. Even without a blanket last night, she'd barely noticed the chill with him wrapped around her. And there was still that little matter of why it was that she almost ached to feel his arms around her again left to explore. She didn't want to get carried away, though, and allow herself to get used to the feeling of him that close to her. Soon enough this seminar would be over and they'd be back in New Mexico, so there was no point in letting herself get that attached. And Marshall was the kind of man she could grow attached to far too quickly, she admitted to herself. She already needed him in her life more than she was willing to admit, so she was hesitant to complicate things even more.

He was waiting patiently for her to answer, but he was secretly elated. She had not turned him down flat. She hadn't hollered at him for suggesting such a thing. She hadn't threatened grave bodily harm. She was thinking about it. Truthfully, it was far from a fabulous solution. The tiny mattress was barely comfortable for him alone, and two fully grown adults would definitely crowd the thing to the point of someone falling out most likely. He immediately planned on putting Mary by the wall to ensure that it would be he who fell out of bed if anyone would. She'd hate being by the wall, though. She'd feel trapped. Caged. Confined. Maybe that was a bad idea after all. Plus, he was a cuddler. He knew this about himself, and knew that should he and Mary fall asleep platonically on the tiny mattress, he would, no doubt, awaken to find himself once more wrapped around his beautiful blonde partner.

"Mare?" He finally asked.

"Hold on, I'm thinking." She was, too, but unfortunately, she was thinking all the wrong things. She was thinking about how nice it had been to be warmed by his body the previous night. How safe she'd felt beside him. How good he smelled sitting next to her in the car. She was thinking all the wrong things.

A/N: That's all for now. Sorry. You know the drill.