Chapter 3 – Kiss me Once, Kiss me Twice

Mary picked sadly at her supper, her appetite non-existent. Mia was the closest she had come to having a girlfriend in...well, ever. She had purposefully held herself apart from other girls at school. She didn't want anyone knowing how she lived. She had simply never developed the skill set to befriend another woman. And now her friend was gone.

Staring forlornly at her salad, she felt her aloneness as she never had before. She heard all the creaks and little noises in the house now that Jinx was gone and Brandi may as well be, what with taking off for parts unknown and spending nights at Peter's. The silence mocked her, taunting her with the knowledge that this is what she had wanted. Her house back, her life back. And she felt dangerously close to tears now. Because her life was silence, emptiness, aloneness. Except for Marshall. She tried to ignore that little voice in her head.

The knock on the door startled her from her reverie. After peering through the peephole, Mary opened the door and cocked her head questioningly at Marshall, a whisper of...something, bouncing through her stomach.

"I come bearing chocolate," he said, diffidently offering the chocolate chess pie to her. Mary breathed in the aroma and swung the door open.

"Thought you might like some company," he said, watching her closely, concern and sympathy etched on his face.

Mary stood aside and let him in after carefully relieving him of the chocolate chess. Trailing after his lanky form to the kitchen, she rummaged in a drawer for a knife and cut generous slices for both of them. Marshall looked pointedly at her salad.

"No dessert until you eat your supper, young lady." Mary stuck out her tongue at him and licked her lips in anticipation of her first bite. She noticed the pained look that crossed his face before he turned away, walking to the sink and filling two glasses with water while taking a deep calming breath. Shrugging, she turned her attention back to the masterpiece in front of her.

Mary bit into the pie and closed her eyes in ecstasy. "Oh my god, this is good," she mumbled, opening her eyes to see Marshall gaping at her with a strangled expression. "What?" It was defensive. Why was he staring at her like that? He quickly cleared his face and mildly observed he liked to see a girl with a good appetite.

Mary narrowed her eyes and inspected the statement for any sign of snark and decided he was being sincere. Leaning one slim hip against the island, he watched her before venturing into the turbulent waters of the Sea of Mary.

"How are you doing? And you know what I mean," he said, forestalling her trite and automatic response of 'I'm fine.'

"You've lost a witness, you've lost a friend." He reached over to cover her hand with his. "Tell me what you need."

Mary contemplated his question as she felt the warmth of his palm caressing her hand. What did she need? Someone who wouldn't leave, who could alleviate the aching loneliness she felt. Not that he could help with that. Or could he? She tried to study him through downcast lashes. There was something changing between them and she was torn between fleeing in terror and running towards it in eagerness.

"For tonight, just your company," she finally offered.

"That I can offer."

A bottle of wine, two pieces of pie and one crappy movie later, Marshall stood to go. Mary had been uncharacteristically quiet, not even commenting on the more awful parts of the movie they were sitting through. Mary followed him lethargically as he moved towards the door. Compressing his lips, then tossing caution to the wind, he gently pulled her into his embrace.

"Let yourself grieve, Mary, it's okay." He felt her body tremble.

"It's not fair," she mumbled into his shirt, "she was only 42. She was my friend." Her arms snaked around his waist. "My only friend besides you. Everyone always leaves." The last was so low, she didn't think Marshall heard her.

She felt his lips brush the top of her head and his arms tighten around her. His breath was warm against her ear as he murmured to her. The reassuring beat of his heart was faint under her ear, resting against his chest.

"I won't leave." Mary felt herself melting inside at the earnestness, the utter conviction she heard in his voice. The deep rumble that had become synonymous with safety, with comfort, with affection, with complete trust, with friendship. And she believed him.

Marshall pulled back and lifted her chin with one finger. "I won't leave," he repeated, his eyes very blue as they looked at her intently.

"I know," she whispered. After a long moment, he nodded, then dropped a light kiss, more an exhale of breath on her lips, and released her.

"Tomorrow then, Sunshine?" She gave a half-hearted smile and nodded, closing the door behind him. Raising her fingers to her lips, she wondered just when he had started kissing her as a normal part of their parting routine. And just when had she started allowing it? And just when had she started looking forward to it? She had actually caught herself a few times lifting her face for his kiss, in expectation, in anticipation.

The kisses had been kept very light, very brief, very safe after that first one they had shared. Mary slowly shuffled back into the kitchen, eying the remains of her salad distastefully. Yes, very safe. She wanted him to keep on kissing her; she was craving the contact now. She didn't want to do anything that would bring a halt to those sweet shows of affection. No one had ever shown her pure affection before. But on the other hand...

On the other hand, she was beginning to feel...urges. The urge to feel the pressure of his mouth on hers, to feel him nudge her to open to him, to taste him, to feel him against her. These urges could lead nowhere good. She had to protect her heart. She had to protect Marshall's heart. She simply didn't know how to resist the comfort he offered her in his arms, the affection he showed her in his kisses, the something more than friendship she saw in his eyes.

Marshall was stretched out on Mary's couch, the weariness on his face reflected on her own. He had stopped by with Indian takeout and because he needed to talk.

"I felt so bad for him, Mary. He's been keeping this all bottled up for months. The poor kid slept with his girlfriend for the first time earlier the same night he witnessed the drug deal. First time for both of them. And all he can think about is what she must think of him, that he just abandoned her." Marshall's voice was hoarse.

"Danny said he hurt her, made her cry. He didn't know there would be blood." Mary watched his face as he struggled to relay the conversation, glad that she hadn't been the one to deal with Danny. She also thought Danny was probably right about Rachel; she would think he abandoned her.

Marshall was glad his young witness trusted him enough to talk to him, though as he told Mary, "I had a hard time keeping an emotional distance, refraining from sharing some of my own experiences with him, experiences that may have helped." He fell silent for several minutes.

"Can I ask you something?" Mary's alarm meter ticked up at his low voiced inquiry. Marshall never asked for permission, he just asked when he wanted to know something about her. She was sitting on the floor by the couch and she reached up to take his hand, drawing in a deep breath. May as well get this over with.

"Did it hurt your first time?" Mary closed her eyes. Even seeing the question coming from a mile away, it was difficult. She squeezed his hand.

"I was sixteen years old, had no idea what I was doing and was scared out of my mind. Yes, it hurt." She snorted. "First guy who ever said he loved me. He lied."

The words hung between them. "Danny wanted to know why something that felt so good for him would be so painful for her. And I couldn't answer that. I felt the same way with Katinka. I hurt her out of eagerness and ignorance and I will never forget that. I learned not to rush. I learned to listen. I learned to read body language. But these aren't things I can teach Danny." Mary listened to him silently, feeling for the young, sensitive Marshall as well as for young Danny.

Marshall started to absently rub his thumb over the soft skin of her hand. "He was crying, Mary. He felt so bad he hurt this girl he really cared about. He's a teenage boy whose life is ruled by his hormones. He started a physical relationship before he was emotionally ready to handle it. And he told that girl he loved her."

Mary peered up at him, his mind obviously somewhere else. Back in his own teenage years she guessed. This was all hitting very close to home. She was curious about his own first time, but decided that conversation could wait for another day.

Marshall sat up and tugged on Mary's hand, pulling her up to sit next to him. "I'm sorry he hurt you, hurt your heart, that first boy." He looked into her face, bringing a long finger up to trace down the line of her jaw.

Mary kept her face carefully blank and Marshall stilled his body. She could see the dawning fear on his face. She didn't want to have this conversation, ever.

"Talk to me, Mary." His voice was very steady, measured. The effort to keep it that way was palpable. Sighing, she thought she better tell him, as he was obviously imagining even worse things than the reality. Rubbing palms suddenly damp with sweat on her jeans, she kept her gaze fastened on her feet.

A gentle nudge brought an unwilling quick glance at his face. Returning her eyes to her bare feet, she wondered idly what she did with her toe ring. She hadn't seen it in awhile.

"It was my boyfriend. I don't know, I suppose today it might be classified as date rape." His hand tightened painfully on hers, but he remained silent. "We were messing around and I thought I wanted to, but then I got scared and said no, I wanted to wait. And he...he said he couldn't stop. I wasn't strong enough to push him off me. It all happened so quick and he hurt me enough I cried. You want to know the really incredible thing? He was utterly shocked that it wasn't good for me."

Marshall's harsh breathing sounded like an engine in the stillness of the room. His tight grip on her hand was almost painful. Mary closed her eyes. She had never told anyone about that night. Gradually the pressure on her hand eased up. Warily opening her eyes, she allowed Marshall to draw her chin up and cup her face with both hands. His sorrowful eyes searched hers and he bent down to kiss her.

"I'm so sorry, Mary. The first time should be a gift freely given to someone, not taken or coerced from you." He kissed her again, lips gentle, full of comfort not passion. "Tell me how to take the hurt away." Pleading in his voice. Again the firm press of his mouth to hers. These were not like the feather light brushes he had taken to bestowing on her when they parted. They were more full-bodied, more tangible, more imbued with emotion.

"How can I help heal you? You have to tell me how." The kisses continued, no urgency, just overwhelming desire to comfort, so strong she could taste it on him.

Mary had never really kissed a man without any tongue action involved, at least not since she was like twelve. She was finding it incredibly pleasurable, these kisses that were free of urgency, free of intent towards something else. The pressure of his mouth against hers was warm and comforting and affectionate. Incredibly affectionate. She looked into the cobalt blue of his eyes and knew he cared for her more than any other person on the planet. He genuinely cared.

"Do you want me to find him?" He murmured between kisses, moving to her cover her cheek with the warm trail of his mouth. Mary chuckled under his moving lips, enjoying the slight abrasiveness of his stubble. The image of Marshall having five minutes with that guy was an enjoyable one. She shook her head.

"No. It was a long time ago and I got over it." Marshall stared at her, a challenge in his expression that said 'go ahead, lie to me again'. "It's all right Marshall. You can't change the past." She pulled at her lip, thinking.

Marshall gently drew her hand down, stopping her from worrying at her lip. "But you can make it hurt less. I can help, if you'll let me." Her eyes unwillingly met his.

"I know, Marshall," she responded in a whisper, "maybe one day, but not today." She paused as she thought about Danny and Rachel.

"Tell Danny to write a letter to Rachel and we can get it to her. I don't want the poor thing wondering if he left her because he was a schmuck, or thinking she was so awful he just couldn't face her again. And I can guarantee she is thinking one of those things."