Author's Note: Yay! I got incredibly sweet, kind reviews for chapter 12! Lots of them! That made my day happy! I'm sick today AND I ran into my ex at the hospital, so, keep 'em coming. I could use a pick-me-up! Thanks to everyone who read and triple thanks to all who reviewed. I'm going to to study for my next exam now. The testing never ends! Boo!

Marshall searched her face carefully while she mulled it over. "She's thinking. She's thinking. She's thinking." Her words repeated in his head over and over again. It took him seven years, but he'd finally managed to make her think. She had to think about whether or not she would share a bed with him. There was nothing sexual about his offer; it was born purely out of practicality. Still, he thought back to early in their partnership. Before they were friends. Before they were even partners in the truest sense of the word. She wouldn't have had to think about it then. There would have been an immediate "no," followed, and most likely preceded by a string of profanities that could make even the saltiest sailor blush. Now she had to think about it. They had shared a room on occasion in separate beds. She'd fallen asleep on his sofa more times than he could count. They'd even shared a particularly large bed once that he'd aptly named the USS Sleep, but its size had been conducive to privacy despite the fact that it had indeed been one single mattress. The fact that she had to take the time to think about his offer tonight meant that the idea of sharing a bed with him was less than repulsive to her.

"If you want me to, I'll stay." She eventually conceded. "But I'm sleeping on the floor."

He tried to keep his face impassive as his heart plummeted to the sole of his shoe. It was better than nothing. She was still close. He could keep an eye on her. Talk to her.

"Okay." He agreed, voice soft in his attempt to mask his disappointment. He knew not to push harder. She'd made up her mind already. Having her in the room was better than nothing. "But you have to promise to wake me up if your back hurts and you want the mattress."

She knew she wouldn't, but she agreed anyway just to appease him. He knew she didn't mean it, and she knew he knew, so the white lie meant nothing to either of them.

"Do you want to do anything before we go back?" He asked her, abruptly turning his face from hers, concerned about conveying the full extent of his disappointment at her rejection. "Shop. Eat more. Whatever." He shrugged and tried to make it look nonchalant, but Mary knew him better.

"I don't need anything." She felt badly, but saw no way around it. In three days the seminar would be over. They would be back in Albuquerque, and things would be back to normal between them. She had no one to blame but herself for this unforeseen turn of events, and she'd be damned if she was going to go and make matters more complicated. Three days. She could last three days. One plane ride, one agonizingly slow trip from the airport – because they'd taken Marshall's car and he refused to budge above the speed limit unless someone's life was on the line. Then she'd be safe and sound inside the comfortable confines of her own home. Alone and unbothered by the potential complications of the world outside, and left to her own devices. She was mentally cataloging all the liquor she had hidden in the house. Scotch behind the fertilizer in the garage, because Brandi would never think to look there. Vodka inside the safe because no one knew the combination except her. Tequila shoved in her bedroom closet on the top shelf wedged between the books on economics and the boring USMS manuals from the academy where Brandi would never bother looking. There was beer in the fridge. Whisky in the cabinet to the left of the kitchen sink for Peter – unless he'd taken it with him. She must be out of bourbon, because she couldn't remember if there was anything tucked behind the cleaning products in the hall closet. She hadn't looked for a few months, and then Jinx moved out.

Marshall fretted over her back at the dorm. He sent her upstairs to grab the pillow and blanket off the bed in the room she was supposed to be sharing. He inspected her cheek again, but did seem satisfied that she would have no bruise. He offered warm clothing for her to sleep in. He attempted persuading her to take the bed once more. Finally, he brushed his teeth and crawled in bed, berating himself all the way for once again taking the comfortable accommodations from his female friend. Mary turned her back to the bed and curled into a ball to retain body heat in the overly chilled room. Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed like the temperature was several degrees colder. Whoever was controlling the thermostat was not looking to do her any favors, and she'd pulled on socks and a sweatshirt before bed.

Marshall slept fitfully; partially from heartbreak and partly from guilt. He eyed his partner on the other side of the room. She was still on her right side, so all he could see was blanket and a bit of blonde hair peeping out the top. He tossed in frustration, and considered crawling over next to her. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, willing sleep to overtake him. She could tie him up in knots, scrape him till he bled, and never even know she was doing it. His watch beeped as the hour changed. One a.m. He had to get some sleep. He heard a rustling several minutes later, and peeped one eye open. Mary was standing up. The door to the bathroom closed quietly, and he let out the breath he'd been holding. Neither of them was going to get any sleep tonight, it seemed.

He closed his eyes when the light switched off. The door opened slowly, and he heard her sigh heavily. More rustling. He opened one eye to watch her again. She was looking for something.

"There." He heard her whisper in the dark as she rose to grab the bottle of aspirin he'd purchased the morning before. She dry swallowed the pills and turned, Marshall's one eye flying shut lest she notice him watching her.

A few minutes later, he felt something light settle over him. Cool air moved around him, and he forced himself to not react. Then the mattress dipped, and he was suddenly grateful he was on his side. It was Mary. She climbed in next to him slowly, so she wouldn't disturb him, and pulled the blankets around her. She faced away from him, on the edge of the bed as far away as possible and willed herself to relax. Sleep would be elusive for her even with the pills.

Marshall focused on keeping his breathing even. Mary was squirming and trying not to squirm at the same time. Finally he could take it no longer.

He gathered his courage and whispered in the darkness. "You okay?"

"Cold." Came her monosyllabic reply. A few moments later. "Is this okay? Did I wake you?"

"You're fine." He wanted to hold her. "And I was up."

She continued squirming; rolling first onto her back, then back on her side facing away from him.

"Are you okay?" He reached a hand for her, but pulled it back before he touched her.

"I'm fine." Her reply was shaky in the darkness.

"You took some aspirin."

"Jesus, you've been watching me?" She rose on her elbow and craned her neck to look at him.

"I think the sink woke me." He lied, but it was believable. He was a light sleeper, and she knew it.

"Sorry." She mumbled, and flopped down on the bed.

"Aspirin?" He repeated, hoping for an explanation.

There were a few minutes of quiet before her voice broke through the darkness. "I was cold." A pause, and he frowned. NSAIDs don't help with cold. "And my back hurts."

His frown deepened now, because he'd learned that "my back hurts" was Mary-code for "I just started my period." This was one of the few times she would admit to being in pain, so he knew it was serious. She didn't have abdominal cramps like most women. For her, the pain was all in her lower back, and he'd learned that it could be excruciating at times. Thus the aspirin.

"Do you have everything you need?" He asked her quietly.

"I'm fine." Her voice was sharp, and he knew it was embarrassment. The familiar twinge in her lower back a few minutes before had been all manner of unwelcome, and she cursed herself for going off the birth control pills. They lessened the pain, but she hated the weight gain. She wasn't seeing anyone, hadn't picked up anyone in months, and frankly saw them as a wasted expense. So, rather than calling in a refill a few months ago when she was out, she'd just gone without. Now she was paying for it. And her partner knew. Humiliation was not an emotion she wore well.

This explained why she was so restless, and Marshall had an idea. "Did you pack your heating pad?" He'd seen her laying on it once before at her house when she said that her back hurt. He hadn't thought much of it at the time. Sore muscles could be relaxed with heat. He hadn't questioned her. He put it together now, though.

"God, Marshall, what's with you? Let it go!" She snapped at him, annoyed that he knew her on this intimate level.

"Do you need one?" He pushed, knowing he was wandering in dangerous territory, but his concern for her outweighed his self preservational instincts. "There's a twenty four hour pharmacy not far from here. I can get you whatever you need."

"Drop. It." She warned angrily.

"Why?"

"Because we're not having this conversation." She stressed "not."

"Mary…" He was confused. "I don't understand. You tell me about the guys you have sex with, but this – something completely natural and healthy, something I can possibly help you with – this you won't talk to me about?"

"Marshall!"

"Mary!" He mimicked.

"I cannot have this conversation with you." She was mortified.

"Why?"

He had a point. She did tell him the sordid details of her sexual encounters. She let him into the secrets of her past. But she couldn't accept his assistance, whatever that is, with this…problem she was having. God, she hated being a girl sometimes.

Marshall frowned when she didn't answer him, and then gathered his nerves and reached out one hand to her shoulder. "Roll over." He urged.

"What?" Her reply was high-pitched in surprise.

"Roll on your stomach for a few minutes."

"Why?" She challenged him, rolling into a ball instead.

"Trust me." He kept his voice calm. "I have an idea."

His hand was still on her shoulder, and he felt the conflict in her. He also felt it when she agreed because she relaxed under his fingers, scooted toward him, and rolled onto her stomach.

"What?" She turned her head to ask him, but he didn't reply verbally.

Instead of telling her, he reached out and cautiously rubbed his hand over her lower back. Not too low, but still in the vicinity. The friction should result in heat, which might relax something. If nothing else, a nice back rub could distract her from her discomfort. He stayed where he was, though, on his side. To do this right, he'd need to straddle her, or at least stand beside her. Use both hands. She'd respond poorly to that, though, so he settled for one hand.

"Try to relax." He urged, rubbing between her shoulder blades, then lower. "Where's it hurt most?"

He was surprised when she didn't push him away. Tell him to keep his hands to himself. It told him something about the amount of pain. His own version of the Wong-Baker pain scale. If Mary admits to it, it must be edging around an eight. If she admits to pain and lets him try to physically diminish it, then it must be closer to a ten.

She gestured vaguely to her entire lower back and spoke into the pillow. "The whole area. Hurts like a bitch."

He though back over the past few months. Over the years he'd learned the subtle signs. He could chart her cycle, tell when she was in pain, and understood what was happening. She carried a purse with her. Took more bathroom breaks. Wore jackets with pockets that were full in the morning, and curiously empty by the end of the day. Popped pain killers for a few days. He hadn't noticed her being in this much pain for a while, though.

"You're in more pain than normal." He observed, and she knew it was a question even though he hadn't posed it as such.

"Stopped taking the pill." She shrugged, and her voice was still muffled as she spoke into the pillow.

Marshall didn't try to hide the smile. "The pill" meant the oral contraceptives. She'd stopped taking them. That meant she hadn't been with another man for a while, because Mary was fanatical about contraception.

"Is this helping?"

"I don't know." She answered him honestly. "Maybe."

Because he could tell she wasn't lying to him, he scooted closer for a better angle and continued.

"Why'd you stop taking them?" His curiosity got the better of him.

"Don't need 'em." Her voice was sharper, and he knew he needed to tread lightly.

"But if they help with the pain, then…" He trailed off. Basically, he just hated to see her hurting. She had enough emotional pain in her past to last a lifetime, and there was little he could do for that. Seeing her in physical pain hurt him, and he questioned why she'd stop taking a drug that alleviated some of the pain.

"Jesus, Marshall." He was nosy tonight, but the massage felt nice on her lower back, so she answered him. "Weight gain!"

He furrowed his brow, and tried to remember if she'd seemed to be eating less. He knew weight gain was a side effect of oral contraception. "You don't need to lose weight." He paused, realizing he had no idea when she stopped taking them. This could be construed as an insult if he wasn't abundantly clear. "And you didn't six months ago, either." That way she couldn't tell him that she didn't need to loose weight now because she'd already lost it all. Bases covered.

"Marshall…" She started, but he cut her off.

"Hey, I'm just saying. I'm a guy. I notice things. You…" He punctuated the "you" by running his hand up her spine and gripping her shoulder lightly. "Do not need to worry about weight."

He wove his hand into her hair and massaged her scalp for a minute, and heard the quiet moan of contentment. She liked that. He kept it up for a few minutes, and heard her sigh.

Mary was in heaven. She never let a man touch her like this. She paid for a massage on occasion, but that was business. This was different. He worked the kinks out of her neck for her sometimes, but he always made sure his fingers never strayed from her neck. This was glorious, and she couldn't keep the sigh from escaping. Her back still hurt, but this gave her something else to concentrate on. As good as it felt, though, her back was killing her, and she squirmed.

"Get comfortable." He urged her. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Can't get comfortable on this tiny…" She huffed as she rolled over, searching for a position that would alleviate some of the discomfort.

"Do you want me to go?" He offered. "That way you can have more room."

"No." She shook her head as she settled on her left side, facing him. "You're warm. That's why I'm up here in the first place." She laughed wryly before finishing. "Is it my imagination, or did the temperature in here drop twenty degrees after we went to bed?"

It was cool in the room, but he didn't notice it too much. Mary was more sensitive to cold, though, so he understood that it was affecting her more.

"It does seem a bit cooler." He agreed and reached to settle the blankets around her shoulder. They were off-center after her search for a comfortable position. Their hands brushed as he gripped the blanket, and he gasped. "Mare, your hands are like ice."

He hadn't planned on this, but he did it anyway. Spur of the moment, and he grabbed her hand and held it flat against his chest, covering it with his hand. The cold seeped through his tee shirt for a moment before it started to feel warm again. He forgot sometimes that she was considerably smaller than him. Her personality made her seem large; and she was tall. She just wasn't male, and didn't generate that much body heat on her own.

"You were cold?" He murmured after he'd released her now-warm hand. They were somewhat awkwardly facing each other now.

"Yeah." She admitted quietly. "I'm better now. I can go."

"No need." He bravely reached around and continued rubbing her back. "Your back still hurts. And it's still warmer here."

She tensed, relaxed, and moved to settle a little closer to him. He could feel her breath on his chest through his shirt and he continued his ministrations.

They'd been silent for a while, and he wondered if she'd fallen asleep before her voice broke through the darkness.

"I hate being cold."

The hand rubbing circles on her back paused, then moved again, but he didn't speak, sensing that she wasn't finished.

"It reminds me of the winter in the car."

He had an inkling of what she was talking about, and moved a few centimeters closer to her.

"I was thirteen, I think. Maybe fourteen." He was working tension out of her neck now. Between her shoulders. "We'd gotten evicted from the apartment we'd been staying in."

Marshall's heart broke for her a little more as he figured out where the conversation was headed.

"New Jersey winters are a bitch, and Jinx wasn't working. She hadn't found a new boyfriend to scam cash off of." Mary hmphed, and Marshall's breath hitched with the idea of unknown dangers. "At least we had a place to stay when she had a boyfriend." Mary could still remember falling asleep in the back seat with Brandi on top of her, trying to keep her baby sister warm. Doing laundry in the sink at the gas station, and waking up to frozen, not dry, underwear laid out in the back of the car.

Her mind wondered back to that cold New Jersey winter. Jim kicked them out in late November, just before Thanksgiving when the winter chill was really setting in. Squish had cried because she wasn't going to get any turkey that year, and Mary spent part of her savings on a turkey sandwich from a diner so her baby sister could have a Thanksgiving dinner. Christmas had been a bigger trick. There was no tree. No stockings. Not that there really ever was, but Brandi was old enough to know the difference now. She understood that the other kids at school had loving families and warm houses decorated with lights and bows and tinsel-covered trees. Mary broke a branch off a pine tree in the park and stuffed it in the snow beside the car right there in the parking lot on Christmas Eve. There were no ornaments, and the only presents were the ones that Katie brought over. She came bearing cookies and chips, and the only presents they got that year were the socks and chapstick that Katie bought them with her allowance.

Katie had been a godsend, literally. Mary was sure they'd have starved to death that winter without Katie. She smuggled food out of her house as often as possible, and handed it off on the way to school in the morning. She had the girls stay over at the house a few nights a week, as often as her mother's live-in-boyfriend would allow. That meant heat, food, and a warm shower. The shower was a special treat, and it sure beat sponge baths in cold water in the dingy bathroom at the gas station.

"Her mom's boyfriend caught her smuggling food a few times, and she got in so much trouble." Mary's voice caught, and Marshall was afraid that he understood what she wasn't saying. "I mean, it was never that much. Chips. Candy bars. Cookies. Fruit when they had it. Sometimes sandwiches, but I think she just gave us hers."

Marshall made a mental note to hug Katie the next time he saw her. Thank her for helping Mary.

"She even did our laundry whenever she could." Mary was still talking, but her voice was devoid of emotion. Autopilot. She'd never told this to anyone before. "She gave us everything she could. Toys for Brandi. A few spare blankets she thought her mom wouldn't miss. She gave Brandi her own sweater just because she thought she looked cold one morning. Took it right off, bundled her up right there on the sidewalk, and sent her off to school." Mary's voice still held awe as she thought about it. Katie was the first person in her life that was nice to her without asking for anything in return, and she still wasn't quite certain how to react to that kind of generosity.

"How long did you live in that car?" Marshall needed to know, but he was afraid to find out.

"We got a place in the middle of January." She was fiddling with the blanket and staring at his chest with unseeing eyes. "Jinx met…someone. I don't remember who. We stopped keeping track after a while."

"Did you always live in the same town?"

"No." She shook her head a little and frowned. "We moved away for about two years when I was eight. Moved back right before my tenth birthday. Then we moved again when I was in high school, but just for a few months."

"Katie said you checked her homework every night."

"Phone." She shrugged. "Bike. Bus. There's always a way."

"You guys were close." He observed.

"She's family." Mary shrugged like it was nothing, but Marshall knew she'd do anything for her favorite relative.

Mary was starting to feel self conscious about lying in bed facing her partner. He still had his arm draped around her midsection rubbing her back, and Mary was contemplating hiring him as her full-time masseuse. Masseur? She could never remember.

"Do you need anything?" He half whispered in the darkness.

She was quiet, but he could tell by the look on her face that there was something wrong. Something she needed. "Tell me." He urged.

"I think the aspirin I swallowed is lodged in the back of my throat and currently eating a hole in my esophagus."

"One bottle of water, coming up." Marshall crawled over top of her and retrieved the beverage.

Mary eyed his pajama pants warily. "Marshall?" She asked him as he crawled back into bed.

"Hmm?"

"Are those Batman pj's?"

"Why, yes they are. Thanks for noticing."

She breathed out a laugh before asking. "Do you keep them in the drawer with the Superman and Spiderman pj's, too? Is there a separate drawer for Wonder Woman and Aqua Girl, or is this a co-ed type drawer experience?"

"I don't have Superman pajama's, thank you very much." He cheekily defended his sleepwear. "I only have Batman."

"Really?" Mary sounded unconvinced.

"Yes, really."

"Why is that?" Mary didn't quite believe him.

Marshall smiled, and Mary knew she was in for a lengthy lecture on comic book history.

"Because Batman is far superior to all other comic heroes." He paused and waited for her to bite. He didn't have to wait long.

"Because?"

"Because, unlike other comic heroes, Batman does not possess an inherent super power."

Mary squeezed her eyes shut and smiled. "He doesn't?"

"No." Marshall squeezed her shoulder before sliding his hand behind her neck to continue the half-hearted massage. "Batman, otherwise known as Bruce Wayne, was orphaned as a child. His parents were murdered, and he witnessed it. They were rich, and he inherited the money. As an adult, he builds a company and uses the R&D division to create new and improved tools with which he fights crime on the streets of Gotham City."

"And the others…?"

"Spiderman was bitten by a radioactive spider, thus his superpowers." Marshall's true, nerdy self was shining through, and Mary smiled. She liked this side of Marshall, even though she gave him crap for it. "Superman is really an alien from the planet Krypton. The Incredible Hulk was a scientist who was trying to build a better soldier. He injected himself with the serum they were experimenting on, and his superpowers began. The Green Lantern has a powerful ring that imparts power to him. Captain Marvel is struck by a magic lightning bolt that…"

"Marshall?" Mary interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"I get it. Batman was bitten, hit, injected, or otherwise injured to gain his powers."

"No, that's not quite it." He was combing his fingers through her hair again, marveling in the increased level of intimacy between them. "He has no superpower. He's just an ordinary guy with a heightened sense of justice. He fights to make the streets of Gotham City safer. It's his own time. His own money. His own crusade. He's nothing special. Just a regular guy."

"Like you." Mary understood. Her own personal Batman.

"If you say so." He felt humbled that she understood. "And I don't have any female superhero pajamas." He corrected.

"Oh, no?"

"No." He chuckled. "But I can get you some if you'd like."

She chuckled, but it was interrupted by a yawn. "Excuse me."

"Sleep." He commanded gently as his fingers curled around the curve of her rib cage. How long had he dreamt of a night like this. Curled together in a bed, under blankets, just talking in the dark until they fell asleep. And it was even better than the night before, because she was climbed into bed with him completely sober. So she was using him for his body heat. She wasn't pushing him away, so he wasn't going to complain. He'd give her whatever she needed. He always did. She was actually very relaxed in his arms as he wove his fingers through her long hair. He'd learned three important things about Mary Shannon tonight. (1) She didn't mind being close to him. (2) She didn't mind it if he touched her. And most importantly if her contented sighs were any indication, (3) He could instantly relax her just by playing with her hair.

A/N: That's all for now. I have to study. Lots of case studies to read, questions to answer. You get the idea.