Chapter 5 – Kiss Me Mary

Mary watched Marshall walking with Danny across the quad at UNM, engaged in animated conversation. Danny looked relaxed, happy, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder. Marshall lifted a hand in greeting when he caught sight of Mary, her arms crossed and one hip cocked out, shades on, breeze lifting her long hair. Danny waved, then turned to Marshall, making a comment that brought a grin to his inspector's face.

Danny headed headed off across campus as Marshall made his way over to Mary. Her head tilted to the side, she drank him in, an awkward grace to his long strides. From cowboy boots to jean clad legs, to longhorn belt buckle, to long sleeved cotton shirt, to his mobile smiling face, she took a long cool drink. And found she was still thirsty.

"Hey there, doofus, how's Danny?" Marshall smiled back, an appreciative gleam in his eye.

"Danny's doing great. Really loving school so far, gets along well with his roommate, likes his classes."

Mary waited a moment, then prodded. "And just what did he say to you to make you grin like an idiot?" Students swirled around them, ignoring the two old people standing in the middle of the quad. A few male glances were thrown Mary's way, but something about the tall man standing so close to her prevented any lingering looks.

Marshall's dancing eyes slowly roamed up and down her body before he answered with a drawl. "Oh, he was just observing that you are the hottest WitSec Inspector he's ever met."

Mary raised any eyebrow. "Really? You're not just being sweet? And what did you say?"

"Ditto." He chuckled and nodded towards the parking lot. As they started to walk towards their cars, Mary glanced over at him.

"And what about his property you've been carrying around for him?" Marshall hesitated, not wanting to break any confidences.

"Still in my gym bag. He has decided to wait and see how things go before even bringing the subject up with this new girl."

"Already told him how things were going to be did she?" Mary commented with a knowing smile. Marshall stared at her, then shrugged.

"Something like that. It's better if they wait, make sure it's what they both want. These things shouldn't be rushed."

They stopped at Marshall's GMC and he opened the door. "You got a witness visit today?"

Mary nodded. "I'll see you back at the office. And Marshall," she paused, and he turned back to face her, "you're really good with him. He looks up to you. I'm glad he feels he can talk to you. It'd be nice to have someone help guide you through the teenage years." Her voice was wistful and Marshall reached for her, pulling her into his arms. The hug was brief, the kiss on her forehead even more so, but Mary felt better, just because it was Marshall.

Mary walked out of the restaurant, pausing for Marshall to catch up. His attention had been caught, by god knows what inside, and she waited patiently. He joined her and they started strolling down the street in Old Town, Marshall casually reaching for her hand and linking their fingers. It was a warm night, but there was a light breeze and it felt pleasant to be outside, walking under the faint stars.

This was beginning to feel like a date, but Mary didn't care. She had been stuck in Chicago with a petulant teenager and her uncaring mother over the weekend. Mary was just happy to be back in Albuquerque and with Marshall. He'd taken her to a nice restaurant, they'd had good conversation, good food, good wine. And now they were wandering the streets of Old Town, not paying attention to anything but each other.

Marshall suddenly stopped outside an art gallery and drew Mary over. He peered at a painting displayed in the window, a southwestern scene with adobe houses and cacti under a blue sky and blazing sun.

"Seriously, Marshall, all you have to do is look out your window to see that," Mary complained, completely unable to understand his fascination with art. He started the slow rubbing of his thumb over her hand and it slowly dawned on Mary for the first time, he was using it as a calming technique. Why that little jackbutt! How dare he try to influence my behavior?

She pulled her hand free and glared at him while he looked back at her in confusion, the picture of innocence. Shrugging, he started to move on, holding his hand out again for her to take. After a moment of hesitation, she did, the need for human contact outweighing her irritation. No, not human contact, Marshall contact.

Marshall drove back to his house. Asking her if she wanted to come in, he started towards his front door, but Mary shook her head, moving off in the direction of her street parked car.

"Not tonight. I need to get home." Marshall gave her an assessing look, but acquiesced. Mary unlocked the door and was startled to find Marshall standing right behind her, barely allowing her space to turn around. He gently took the keys out of her hand and placed them on the roof of the car, simultaneously sliding an arm around her waist.

"You don't have another man waiting for you there do you," he whispered in her ear, the timbre of his voice and moist heat of his breath doing things to her stomach. She tried to conjure up a laugh, but could only manage to stare at the heat in his eyes. The realization hit her. This is it. This is where it changes or not.

Marshall traced her jaw with his finger, lazily drifting down the smooth slope of her neck. That same finger caressed her earlobe, gently twirling the plain gold stud in her ear, setting up that same stroking motion he used on her hand. And just what else might he stroke like that?

He was waiting; waiting for her to decide. Pull back, keep the status quo or move forward, take a risk. Mary stared at him, unaware of the sheer terror reflected on her face. Marshall gently ran his thumb over her lips.

"It's okay. I'm in no rush." Murmured soft in her ear. She blinked, contrition rushing up to tremble with apologetic words on her lips. Marshall shook his head. "No, don't. We take this at your pace. I'll wait for you, Sunshine, for as long as it takes."

His thumb traced once more over her parted lips then he bent down to deposit one of his gentle, chaste kisses on her mouth. He'd been making these deposits for awhile now, the balance growing week by week, month by month. Earning interest. And now he was asking to make a withdrawal, a small one, not to clean out the account. And she was telling him the bank was closed. To go away and try again tomorrow. No, she wouldn't hurt him by stamping his request 'insufficient funds'.

Her eyes drifted shut and she slid a shaky hand around his neck, pulling his head down and firmly pressing her mouth to his. His body stilled, then his right arm tightened as the left hand came up to cup the back of her head, holding her in place as the pressure of his kisses increased. Lips moving in lazy pathways from the corner of her mouth over her cheek, down her jaw, along the slope of her neck. Nipping at the spot right where neck and shoulder met. Meandering back up her stretch of neck to nibble at her earlobe, then begin the journey back to the goal. Lips parting; light brush of tongue tasting the sweet hint of chocolate that remained there. Eyes sparking with deep sapphire blue embers asking a question; blonde head nodding affirmative.

Mary was not prepared for the jolt she felt, that went straight down to her toes, when Marshall nudged her mouth open further, somewhat hesitantly slipped his tongue in through her teeth, then swept around her mouth. She gave an audible gasp, clutching handfuls of his crisp cotton shirt, and holding on for dear life.

He had asked for admittance; she opened the door. He requested a viewing; she took him on a guided tour. He explored; she was discovered. He whispered, with his hoarse terms of endearment, of his wish to plant his flag that said 'I was here, I claim this for my own'; her pliant body gave promise the territory would be yielded.

He was gentle, the controlled power she felt in his taut body arousing. Over teeth, around her cheeks, along her tongue; he tasted, he felt, he investigated. She could tell he was holding back, holding back considerably. Flash of clarity that almost broke her heart; he didn't want to scare her off. He wanted her to understand that this kiss, on this night, wasn't going to go any further. This was just the next step on their long, convoluted journey of discovery together.

Mary broke off breathless, grateful for Marshall's arm around her, as her legs felt decidedly unreliable. He held her tight, he would never let her fall.

Mary's sense of restlessness had led to her rash statement. Maybe I just need to do some cowboy. As soon as she said it, she regretted the words that were hurtful to Marshall. She was taken aback however, when he stood up and walked over, getting in her face, laying his heart on the line.

The words swirled through Mary Shannon's head, her partner's words. The words she didn't want to hear. But maybe messy is what you need. The words she didn't want to acknowledge. Maybe instead of just anyone you should be looking for someone. The words she didn't want to accept. Someone who challenges you..Marshall...who calls you on your BS...Marshall...and gets in your face and makes you think...Marshall.

Damn him. He was going to force her to deal with this before she was ready. This...whatever it was between them.

She had been thinking too. She was getting an itch that needed scratching. It had been months. Marshall would be willing to scratch that itch, but only under his terms. He would demand a declaration from her; he would want the words. Mary wasn't sure she could give him the words. The words scared her. The words would flay her heart open, beating for him to see. The words would make her vulnerable. The words would give him power. The power to hurt. But Marshall would never hurt me. The words could bring her greater happiness than she had ever known.

Her work enforced staycation had given her ample opportunity to think. The house was totally hers now. Brandi had moved out last week. Marshall had come over to help. Mary was surprised by how much she had missed seeing him on a daily basis. It had only been four days, not that she was keeping track.

She hadn't minded watching him work up a good sweat either, his damp t-shirt rippling over rather well defined chest muscles. Brandi had caught her staring at one point and laughed knowingly at her. Mary realized with a slight shock, that she had never seen his bare legs, only seen his arms a couple times before. Her mind began to idly wonder what he looked like; all of him.

The day had passed quickly and Mary had asked her weary partner if he wanted to stay, get a pizza. He shook his head tiredly and said he needed to get home. She shrugged, but sensed something was off. At the door when she thanked him for helping, he had smiled and then...then he opened the door and walked out. In stunned silence she realized it was the first time in months that he hadn't kissed her when he left. She felt bereft.

That lack of a kiss ate at her all evening. It followed her into her dreams.

There was an ocean view, a cool breeze, a sinking sun giving an orange glow to the setting. Teasing of the cabana boy, wine, food, a long, red dress. And a companion, someone in the bathroom. She waited in anticipation and out came...Faber. Huh? Well she had an itch and he would do, she guessed. They kissed, but it was all wrong. These were not sweet kisses full of affection. These were kisses with one goal only. She wanted that other, the tenderness, the friendship, the affection. She wanted to know she was loved.

Mary woke with a start. Tears pricked behind her eyes and she threw back the covers roughly and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Stalking out to the kitchen propelled by irritation, uncertainty and a vague sense of unease, she stood still with her hands propped against the island. Her breath came in harsh rasps. Trying to draw a deep breath, Mary steadied herself and poured out a glass of red wine. She took it out to the backyard and slid down into one of the deck chairs. Watching silver moonlight track across the calm water on the pool, she heaved a sigh and turned her thoughts to Marshall, to their friendship. She resolutely kept her thoughts away from Faber, from his stolen kiss on his last visit, from his incessant phone calls and texts.

Focusing her mind where it didn't want to go, she considered the evolution of her relationship with Marshall. Cicadas were singing gently in the still night air and in the distance she could hear a dog barking, followed by a slamming door, then silence. Marshall. A wary partnership in the beginning. The first of a series of road trip conversations took place when she met him back in Jersey on the FTF operation. She sipped her wine, lazily watching a leaf that had fallen in the pool floating gently by the ladder. Those enclosed talks that offered no means of escape. The talks that were so frequently initiated by Marshall. A tool to discover more about her.

Many road trip convos later had come the admission that the only person that really understood her was Marshall. And shortly after that the painful acknowledgment that her engagement to Raph had ended. Mary swirled the wine in her glass, watching the moonlight catch the rose colored hue. There had been the startling realization that he really did occupy a room in her head. He knew her better than anybody else on the face of the planet. He knew what she was thinking the majority of the time. How had that happened? Slowly, gradually, the wariness had been replaced by respect, admiration, awe...friendship.

And the friendship, what of that? It had evolved also, to something...more. From enjoying the occasional after work drink, to hanging out with Marshall on a day off. From calling to see if she wanted him to pick up coffee for her on his way to work, to showing up unannounced on her front doorstep with Thai food in hand. From rearranging their desks with his input, to rearranging their desks without his input, knowing he would never object to the choices she made in furniture arrangement. From keeping him at an emotional arms length, to embracing him close to her heart. Oh God. What is this I'm feeling?

Her heart started to race a little as scenes from their years together played out in her mind. How many times had he asked her 'tell me what you need' ? How many times had he called her his girl? A term of endearment Mary had never called him on. The silent support that was always there. The endless paperwork he had completed for her. Marshall coming into that basement to clasp her terrified body to him. Marshall trailing after her as she fell apart upon her return to work, following closely but not touching her. Marshall holding her as she sobbed out on the balcony. Marshall toasting her engagement, his eyes red with unshed tears. Her breath hitched. Marshall getting shot. Oh God. She'd completely fallen apart in the hospital, she'd been so scared he was going to die.

She shuddered and stood up, quickly stripped off her clothes and eased herself into the pool, the cool water tamping down the fevered thoughts rushing through her mind. She smoothly stroked through the water, lithely turning in a somersault when she reached the end and pushed off to swim another length of the pool. Over and over she swam from end to end until breathlessness forced her to stop. Her mind had been held in limbo as she swam, but upon reaching the ladder to step out, she admitted it to herself.

Mary pulled herself up, the water streaming down her hair, the moonlight illuminating the pale flesh of her toned body. Realizing she didn't have a towel, she shrugged and turned to find her pajamas. The gentle lapping of the water in the pool thundered in her ears as she saw a shadow standing by the door into the house. She stood stock still, aware that she was completely vulnerable, the moonlight outlining her, no weapon close to hand. She watched the shadow. It didn't move. As her eyes adjusted, something about the shape of that shadow tugged at her.

Slowly moving towards her deck chair, she kept a wary eye on the dark shape. As she reached the goal of her clothes, the shadow moved, stepping slowly out into the moonlight. Mary clutched her top to her chest, relief warring with anger as she recognized Marshall's lanky form.

"Jesus H Christ, Marshall! Are you trying to scare the hell out of me?"