Author's Note: I'm feeling better finally! No more colds, flu, or other viruses (knock on wood). It's getting chilly here, finally, and starting to look like Christmas. I hope you are all enjoying whatever holiday you prefer to celebrate! Here's chapter 18! Again, if you're from USA Network, please don't sue. You can have your characters back when either I'm done with them, or you decide to screw your heads on straight, unbunch your panties, and get the two of them together. Either one is fine with me. Thanks!
The exam was easy, and Mary knew she aced it. A seventy percent was all that was required for the CE credits to count, and Mary was certain that her score would reach well into the nineties. She smiled smugly as she handed in the obnoxious scantron form with her messily darkened bubbles. Marshall hadn't left yet, and she knew it was due to his obsessive compulsive need to ensure that each bubble was perfectly shaded. If she knew her partner, and truthfully, she did, she knew he had three pencils and two erasers, each sharpened just right so he could erase completely. No doubt he'd completed the exam sooner than anyone else in the overly warm room, but he was being his power nerd self, and she knew she could count on seeing him back at the room in a few minutes. Her partner caught her eye as she strode past him and gave her a strange smile. Maybe his smile wasn't strange, she mused later. Perhaps she was just in a strange mood. It was quite possible that the smile he tossed her way was his usual grin. His way of reassuring her that they were okay. That he'd see her later. God, she hated it when things got complicated. She had an annoying habit of overthinking things and making them more complicated than they really were.
She wondered back to their shared room and sprawled out on the bed, kicking her shoes off only after she was comfortable on her back. There was some serious thinking to be done here, and while she knew there wouldn't be time to fully work through this problem, she could at least get started. Her thoughts drifted back to the previous day. Marshall had hugged her – held her, really – right there on the beach after pleading with her to play hooky with him. She'd played in the ocean. Literally played. Carefree. Alive. It was the first time in years that she could remember just having that much pure fun. The fact that she'd had that degree of frivolity with her partner was not lost on her. She always had fun with him, or at least she had for a few years. They were friends now, and had been for most of their partnership, but things had changed. It was more than just friends. There was something below the surface. Smoldering. Bubbling. Threatening to erupt. She had tried her best to keep the inevitable at bay, but lately it seemed as though Marshall was hell bent on destroying what they had. She wasn't willing to lose him as a friend, and she knew her own track record with relationships. She had Marshall. He was her friend. Her was her partner. And she needed him to stay there. Any sort of romantic entanglement would risk both of those things, and she could not bear to lose that in her life.
Sitting up with a start, Mary looked around the room. Marshall would be back soon. So she needed to run. Literally. Running clothes were hurriedly thrown on, laces tightened and knotted. She needed to run. To clear her head. She needed to think. Her iPod was tossed on the mattress only to be grabbed at the last second before she hurried out of the room. Maybe the rhythmic drone of the music could drown out the mocking chanting in her head. Voices that told her she wasn't good enough. That she couldn't have a man like Marshall. That he'd never want her. Maybe she could figure things out.
She hadn't left a note. Her boots had been thrown haphazardly beside her luggage; running shoes conspicuously absent. Marshall was a smart man. He'd figure it out. Her feet beat the ground in a comforting, familiar tattoo. Left. Right. Left. Right. Breath one. Two. One. Two. She always thought more clearly after a good long run. It allowed her time to think. Make decisions without the badgering of family members. Being alone in the desert was a rare treat for Mary. Marshall had fitted her with a Camelback water system when he'd learned of her habit for running alone in the desert. He had also, secretly, implanted a GPS button in it, but she'd found it soon thereafter. Oddly, there was no giving him crap. No smacking. No throwing the offending piece of technology at him with a sneer and comment about how she didn't need him invading her privacy. Nothing. She'd merely returned the button and smiled. Her partner worried about her safety. There were worse things in the world than having someone who cared if you lived or died.
He did care, and she knew it. Whether she had wanted him to or not, her partner cared about her. She suspected that he would do pretty much anything she asked. That was a heady thing to deal with for a woman like Mary. She was independent. Headstrong. Just plain strong. She'd had to be; learned it at a young age and clung to it like a lifeline. Trust no one. Depend on no one. Except Marshall. Mary realized several years ago that she did trust him, and she depended on him. Sometimes she even almost admitted that she needed him. That was an unsettling thought. Mary didn't like depending on other people, and had a gut-level reaction to the mere idea of needing someone. However, Marshall had never given her a reason to doubt him. Even with a bullet in the chest, he'd saved her life. He worried over her. Doted. Protected. No one had done that for her in more years than she could count, but she knew that she could always count on him. He was always there for her, and tried like crazy to get her to understand that fact. That much even Mary knew. She wasn't blind. He cared for her, and she knew it. She had known if for years. What she'd only just discovered was that his affection was truly beyond friendship or partnership.
Mary remembered the conversation they'd had before her ill-fated trip to Mexico. With Faber. One mistake after another, and she finally understood what Marshall was talking about. She'd told him that she was thinking, but she hadn't. She put it as far out of her mind as possible, and only figured it out a few hours ago. Katie's words kept echoing in her head. Even Jinx chimed into the chorus of voices chucking it out for supremacy inside her head. Let someone in. People love you. Let them. Maybe messy is what you need. Messy. She and Marshall together would be messy. And disastrous. It wasn't that she'd never considered it. She'd spent plenty of time thinking about it. What it would be like to be in a relationship with Marshall. The numerous ways she'd drive him away if they ever did embark on that unfortunate relationship. He had thwarted her efforts thus far, though, she had to admit. No matter how much crap she flung at him, how many insults were tossed his direction, he just smiled and stayed. And asked her to "tell me what you need." And called her "my girl." God, she hadn't been anyone's girl since she was seven. That's my girl. God, she'd almost castrated him by hand the first time he'd uttered those words, but over the years she had come to associate them with friendship. And she liked his friendship. He was good. Pure. Even.
Mary shook her head and paused to retie her shoe, smacking her hand on the cement as she stood. She had to stop this. Attempting to put the whole thing out of her mind once again, Mary tried to concentrate on the music, but failed miserably. No matter now intently she focused on the lyrics, her traitorous brain drifted back to the night before. The feeling of his arms tight around her. The smell of him as she nestled her face in the crook of his neck. The feel of his hand, large but tender, as his palm cupped the back of her head and held her to him. This warm lips as they brushed her forehead. She'd never been held by a man and liked it. But this was Marshall, and he wasn't like other men. He was quirky and goofy, and lacked that obnoxious machismo that she both gravitated toward and was irritated by. He learned for the sake of learning, and never bored of reading. He cooked. He gardened. He wasn't afraid to let someone question his masculinity, and Mary knew the reason why. He was as badass a man as anyone else, and criminals and cops the same were more likely to trust him if they didn't see him as a threat. He was sensitive and tough at the same time, and Mary had found the combination puzzling for a while. She understood it now, and woe be anyone who dared disparage him in her presence. Anyone. Including his father.
There were only three people in the world that she'd stand up for like that. Brandi, out of obligation and a healthy dose of sisterly love. Katie out of sheer devotion. And Marshall out of friendship, partnership, camaraderie, and…something else?
Marshall returned to the room to find it empty. A quick glance around told him what Mary knew he'd find: she'd gone running. He was accustomed to her habit of exercising for clarity. He ran behind her often enough at night when she needed to get out. After a few years of trying, he'd successfully convinced her to let him run behind her in the dark to make sure she was safe. They never talked. He didn't say a word. He just ran. He'd played it off as a bonus for both of them. He needed to work out, too, and it was just smart to use the buddy system. She'd called him a girl's name, but her eyes had thanked him. It wasn't uncommon for her to show up on his porch in the middle of the night and drag him out of bed to run. Sometimes they'd run the streets. Other times, especially if one of them was wrestling with something particularly difficult, they'd drive into the desert, strap headlamps on, and run side by side in the darkness. Marshall held his tongue until she stopped, then he'd point out constellations and tell her the stories behind them, and he never ran out of myths. Greek. Norse. Acoma. Chinese. Navajo. Sinagua. Athabascan. Upic. It seemed there was no mythology that he didn't know. Mary secretly loved his stories. The gentle cadence of his voice did as much to sooth her as the run itself, and she had accepted his place in her life. Let him do some things for her. They usually ended their late night runs with hot chocolate or tea that Mary always brought with her, and then showered at his house or hers. Mary slept in his guest room, or he on her sofa. They'd have a light breakfast in the morning, and be off to work. They both never failed to feel better after an excursion, no matter who initiated it.
Raphael's relationship with Mary hadn't managed to put a kink in their unscheduled running, much to Marshall's relief. It merely meant that they washed up and napped at his house rather than hers. It was a part of her Marshall never had to share, and that alone let him know that no matter what, was enough to sustain him. He knew that he and Mary were closer than she and Raphael ever were. Maybe they weren't as close physically, but he knew her. He knew all the parts of her. She let him into her life. Into her head. And she never let the ball player in like that. Scratch that, Marshall amended, she let him in once. And that singular action potentially jeopardized her life and his own. When Mary told him that the engagement was off, he'd literally held his breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to spill. Waiting for him to do something stupid. It never happened, thankfully. Mary was safe. He was safe. The witnesses were safe. And Marshall wasn't going to have to explain away the unexpected shooting of an unarmed civilian.
Mary was out of breath, which was unusual for her. She worked out regularly, ran with Marshall, and didn't have too much trouble with aerobic exercise as a rule. It was possible, she admitted, that she was running faster than usual. The topic she was wrestling lay heavy on her mind as she tried to figure out what to do. Why? How? Either way someone got hurt, and she hated knowing that she might hurt Marshall. Either way, it didn't look good. Walk away, and hurt him. Again. Or stay and ignore what's going on between them. And hurt him. Or try some sort of disastrous hoax of a relationship…and hurt him. For a brief second, Mary almost wished he'd never met her. If she didn't know him, then she wouldn't have to do this. She wouldn't have to make this decision. He wouldn't have to end up hurt, and it wouldn't have to be her fault.
She shivered, even in the heat, as her skin remembered the feel of his touch. Feather light and gentle. Warm. Tender. Just like he always was with her when she needed it. Mary hated being held. Constricted. Confined. She habitually shrugged off men who tried to hold her, especially while she slept. One night stands, even Raph, had been barred from too much touchy-feely crap. And that is why Mary was baffled by her reaction to Marshall the previous nights. She liked it. And that was concerning to her. Getting used to the affections of a man would only end in disappointment, and Mary was tired of disappointments. Men never stay, she told herself, but deep inside a little voice rang out "Marshall did."
"Damn it! I need to talk to Katie." Mary muttered out loud as she turned around and headed back. Katie would know what to do. She could point her north and send her safely on her way. Vowing to call her younger cousin and make amends once she returned to Albuquerque, Mary tried to put the situation out of her head and actually look at the scenery.
The trees were pretty, she observed. Green. Kind of lush. Manicured. Verdant lawns looked odd to her now, after nearly eight years in the high desert. Flowers of some unknown variety lined one of the sidewalks, and Mary tried to remember if Marshall had ever told her what kind they were. They looked common, like something she'd seen often as a child. They hadn't had a garden since…maybe ever, she stopped herself. Perhaps there had been some kind of planter out front of the little house in Jersey. Before.
Marshall was reclining on the mattress reading when she dragged herself back into the room, exhausted from the mental and physical efforts. She bent to read the title.
"With the Old Breed?" She said aloud. "God, you're a super nerd."
"It's a fascinating book, Mare. Details the war in the Pacific, not just the European front like you read about in school."
"Say anything about us winning?" Ever-interested in the bottom line, Mary appreciated getting to the point with brevity.
"I'm sure there will be a mention. Maybe a footnote." He said matter of factly just to watch her roll her eyes.
"I'm taking a shower." She tossed the words over her shoulder as she opened the door to the bathroom, removing her shirt before closing the door.
Marshall gulped at the sight of her in shorts and her sports bra. He'd seen her in less just yesterday at the beach, but it was a sight he figured he'd never grow tired of seeing. Reading after that scene wasn't likely to happen. Concentration shot, he closed his book sat it on the nightstand next to the alarm clock. A deep sigh rattled his bones a bit as he closed his eyes and replayed the vision. Mary. So close. And so very far away at the same time. Progress was slow, and always would be. There was no point in putting a time limit on dealings with Mary. Her trust had been difficult enough to earn; the last thing he needed to do was rush her and mess things up.
Emerging from the bathroom with a puff of steam and a cough, Mary paused to view her partner dozing on the bed. Still sitting mostly upright, he looked relaxed. Unburdened. At ease. He goofed off often enough, but he held his tension between his shoulders. She would know. She'd worked it out of his muscles often enough in the past eight years. Well, mostly the last five, she amended mentally. It was a few years until she was willing to gratuitously touch him. He was so damn proper all the time it just never seemed wrong. She didn't mind anymore, though, and volunteered to help him out when he needed. He'd told her that she had magic fingers once, and she'd just chuckled and told him that he had no idea. Marshall had blushed, to her delight, and she'd wondered just exactly what he'd been thinking.
It was nice, being here with him like this. No witnesses. No real worries. No family clamoring for her attention or checkbook. Just the two of them. Friends. Together. Something else? God, that question was getting irritating to her. There shouldn't be anything else. Except...
A/N: Two more days of this rotation left! It was a good one. I don't think I have a future in geriatrics or hospice and palliative care, but I did appreciate learning. Lovely patients.