Disclaimer: I don't own IPS, or much of anything else!

Author's Note: I wouldn't leave you hanging that long, would I? Would I, really? Read on! =)

Fish Out of Water

Chapter 16

Marshall stood on Mary's doorstep, his heart in his throat. He held a bouquet of flowers in a clammy hand, daisies, because Mary would find anything else too girly or too expensive. They were a non-threatening flower, with a sort of hey, how are you vibe, rather than a commitment-heavy flower like roses. He felt now that flowers had been a stupid idea. There was no card; the flower stand didn't carry cards that said Sorry I might have gotten you pregnant. As if anyone did.

The fact was, they needed to talk. It had been weeks of this; knowing the conversation needed to be had, but not knowing how to bring it up, and all the while, a front of maintaining the status quo. There wasn't tension, not the way he'd thought there would be. It wasn't forced or awkward. It just was. He knew they should be talking about it and instead they talked about anything but, and he didn't know what to say, and she didn't seem to want it to be said.

The more time wore on, the more he tied himself up in knots thinking about it. In one weekend, he might have just as well signed his entire life away. There were his parents to think about; his mother would be devastated, his father, furious, and this kind of thing just didn't happen in his family. They would blame him, but they would also blame Mary. The things they would think of her, he wouldn't be able to forgive. And what of Mary, anyway? He didn't really know where he stood with her, either. He loved her, that hadn't changed; she was his best friend, and his lover for that one time, but that hadn't happened again for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the possibility that she might be carrying his baby.

A baby, for the love of God. That was what had brought him here today, after all. It couldn't be ignored any longer. Brandi had come alone for the walk to school, and had told him her sister was staying home sick, something wrong with her stomach. His heart had almost stopped right there. The elephant in the room had been suddenly staring him in the face. So he'd walked Brandi to school like everything was perfectly normal, and then he'd ditched his own classes to go see Mary. Well… first he'd loitered anxiously, then he'd bought flowers in the vain hope that the social nicety would bring some element of normalcy to any of this, which of course it hadn't, and then he'd walked to her house as slowly as possible, dread gnawing in his belly like a wounded animal.

He had no idea what was going to happen, or even what he wanted to happen. She could be pregnant, or not, and if she was, she could have it, or not, and if she had it, he could be there… or not. It wasn't that he didn't want to be there. It was that he wasn't sure she would let him. He was fairly certain she'd view one life down the drain as sufficient, and would refuse to allow him to sacrifice his own future, and Mary had a way of forcing the issue when she was set on something. In some small corner of his heart he almost wanted that decision to somehow be out of his hands, and that one thing, he hated more than anything else about this, that there was a cowardly part of him that didn't want the responsibility, a part of him that was terrified of being a father.

The fact was, he could never walk away, not from her, and not from a child that was his; no matter how afraid he was, no matter what his parents had to say, no matter how hard Mary herself tried to push him away and no matter what he had to give up, he would be there. And here he was. He ran a hand nervously through his hair, the hand not holding the flowers, and knocked on the door. After a moment, he heard movement within, and another moment later the door opened.

Mary looked tired; dark circles under her eyes stood in stark relief against the paleness of her face, and her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. She didn't look like she was dying or anything, but she'd clearly had a rough night. She eyed him dubiously, obviously surprised at his presence, and of course she still tended to believe that surprises didn't mean anything good. He was starting to understand where that belief was coming from.

"What're you doing here?" she asked, her voice gruff.

"Did I wake you?" he came back, his tone one of apology as he realized she'd probably gone back to bed after Brandi left. She was dressed in a rather worn pair of plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized sweatshirt, and her hair was a mess, the very portrait of someone who'd just rolled out of bed, except for the evident lack of sleep, which she'd probably been trying to correct.

"Tried to doze off on the couch," she shrugged. "Wasn't really working that well."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry I interrupted…" he hedged.

"What're the flowers for?" she asked in confusion.

Marshall looked at the flowers in his hand. He'd forgotten he was even holding them when she'd opened the door.

"They're for you," he offered them awkwardly.

Mary wrinkled her nose. "Um… why?"

"When I walked Brandi to school, she said you were home sick, so…" he shrugged, not knowing how to continue.

"So? You never brought me flowers before," she replied skeptically.

"Well… this is different," he said quietly. "I think it's time we talked about it."

"Why the hell would we need to talk about it?" she snapped incredulously. "What makes you think it's any of your business?"

"How can you say that? Of course it's my business!" his heated reply came out as almost a shout.

"Jesus!" she hissed. "Don't start screaming on my porch! It's bad enough the number of times that's happened because of Jinx, I won't have it starting with me too."

"This involves me whether you like it or not," he replied, making an effort to lower his voice.

"I still don't see how, but whatever. Just shut up and come inside already."

She opened the door wider to admit him, glancing nervously around for curious neighbors as she let him pass. The couch was covered in what appeared to be some kind of blanket cocoon; it looked like she'd been nesting there for some time, probably the entire night. The TV babbled quietly, the reception poor via antenna, but he recognized what she was watching; Sesame Street, of all things. His stomach flipped unpleasantly. Did she really have to be watching children's programming right now, of all times? Or was this some kind of effort to prepare herself for motherhood?

Closing the door, Mary turned to face her friend, arms folded nervously across her chest. She still didn't understand why he was there, and he wasn't exactly making himself clear. Brandi must have told him something more than the simple fact that she was home sick, because it wasn't all that unusual for someone to stay out for a day or two in the middle of March. People got colds or the flu. True, that wasn't what was going on with her, but he couldn't know that… unless he'd been told.

"So what was it Brandi said that had you coming over here with those stupid flowers?" she asked bluntly. Marshall looked taken aback by her directness. How typical, she grumbled to herself.

"She said you weren't feeling well, um… you know," he mumbled, the color draining from his face just a little as he gestured toward her abdomen.

"Oh, my God. She told you about that?" Mary's eyes widened. "Oh, that little brat! She just couldn't keep her mouth shut, could she?" Her hands balled up in frustration and she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes.

"Why should she keep it from me?" he snapped back, her attitude filling him with disbelief. "Why should she even know, when I don't?"

"She's my sister, Marshall, of course she knows about it. And why the hell would I tell you? Why do you even care?"

"So you just weren't going to tell me? You didn't think I had a right to know?" his tone shifted from disbelief to anger.

"Of course you don't have a right to know! It's not something I'd go around telling people about, you or anyone else! It's embarrassing!"

"Embarrassing? There are several terms that could apply here, but embarrassing? Try life-altering, or disastrous, or… you know, anything that makes it sound like this even matters to you!"

"Disastrous?" Mary's jaw dropped. "Jesus, Marshall, it's just a period, not one of the fucking plagues of Egypt!"

Marshall blinked slowly, staring at her as her words registered.

"… Period?" he asked hesitantly.

"Would you prefer a clever euphemism, like, 'Aunt Flo has come for a visit'?"

Marshall glanced down at the floor as his face blushed furiously pink.

"So you're not…" he mumbled softly.

"I'm not what?" Mary pressed, her patience wearing thin. He glanced back up at her anxiously.

"When Brandi said you were sick at your stomach, I thought she meant… I mean, I thought it might be morning sickness."

She stared at him, unable for a moment to respond while her brain caught up to his train of thought.

"I have cramps, Marshall. I'm not actually sick."

"Oh…" he murmured. He fell silent, trying to sort out what he was feeling. He was relieved, yes, and still somewhat in disbelief, but also strangely disappointed.

"So… you thought I was pregnant?" she asked as she finally put everything together.

"Well, I… I mean, we… you know… and we forgot the condom… and then Brandi said… and I thought…" he spluttered distractedly, "… well… why are you watching Sesame Street?"

"The antenna's crappy and it's a weekday morning. It was all I could get and it's a good distraction," she replied. "I only have to pay attention to each thing that happens for like a minute."

Marshall nodded, finally accepting that Mary wasn't pregnant after all.

"Why?" she asked with a smirk. "Did you think I was watching it for the baby or something?" His embarrassed blush and averted eyes were all the answer she needed.

"Sit down and I'll make you an English muffin. I shopped a few days ago, so there's actually food this time," she offered. As he settled on the couch, she grunted and rubbed low on her belly. "On second thought, you do it. I'm gonna sit down. Make me one, too. And put those flowers in water before they die."

"Which one do you like best?" she asked lazily as she laid on the couch, her head in Marshall's lap.

"Kermit the Frog," he replied, one hand draped over her shoulder and the other idly stroking fingers through her hair.

"He's not on Sesame Street," she scoffed, swatting his leg.

"He is sometimes," Marshall protested.

"Be serious. We're talking about full-time Sesame Street Muppets here."

"Fine," he paused, thinking. "Bert and Ernie."

"That's two."

"But they're Bert and Ernie."

"So?"

"You can't have one without the other."

Mary thought for a moment and shrugged, making a small noise of agreement.

"Who do you like best?" he turned the question back on her.

"That crazy little blue one that's secretly a super hero."

"Grover?"

"Yeah," Mary grinned. "He's like, out of his furry little mind."

"My dad thinks he's on drugs."

Mary laughed. "Your dad thinks everyone's on drugs."

Marshall laughed with her. It felt good to relax with her now that the thought of parenthood was no longer looming over them. They watched the television screen quietly for a while before Mary spoke again.

"What would you have done if I'd turned out to be… you know?"

Marshall glanced down at her. "I don't really know. I was thinking about it a lot, but I don't think I really decided anything except…" he trailed off.

"Except what?" she prompted.

"I'd want to be there," he murmured. "For you, for the baby. I couldn't have walked out on that."

"Were you scared?" she asked softly.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Were you?"

"I was nervous. I mean, when I realized we didn't use the condom, I started to freak out a little. That was part of why I left before you woke up. There was already so much going on and I didn't want to have to talk about it right then. And I was worried about being pregnant, too, but then I didn't want to talk about it until I knew one way or another," she paused. "What about you?"

"I knew we had to talk about it, but I was waiting for you to bring it up, and I kept trying not to think about it too much, but it's not that easy to put something like that out of mind. And today, when I thought you were… yeah, I was scared," he admitted. "It felt like my life was changing faster than I could keep up."

Her hand slipped up and interlaced fingers with his hand where it rested on her arm. She gave a gentle squeeze and he squeezed back.

"While I was waiting," she continued, "all I could think about was that I was going to end up like my mom, having a kid way too young and all."

"Speaking of your mother, where is she?" Marshall glanced around nervously as though by mentioning her, he might inadvertently cause her to appear.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, she got a job. She's waiting tables at a bar and grill."

Marshall's eyebrows shot toward his hairline again. "Really?"

"Don't get too excited about it," she cautioned. "It'll all come crashing down as soon as she's done screwing her boss. But at least it'll keep rent paid for a month or two."

The pair lapsed into silence again. He kept playing with her hair as they watched TV, and Sesame Street gave way to Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. Mary felt her eyelids starting to grow heavy, and just as she was dozing off, Marshall's voice drifted through the fog.

"You wouldn't have ended up like your mother," he spoke softly. "I wouldn't have let that happen."

The corner of Mary's mouth twitched up in a faint smile. She wouldn't have allowed him to give up his chance at a real life for her, but it felt good to know that he would want to. She snuggled closer against him, finally feeling comfortable enough to let her eyes fall shut and sleep.

Marshall watched her as she slept. She was gorgeous even when she was exhausted and unkempt. His fingers left her hair and brushed over her cheekbone. He knew they'd dodged a bullet, that it was only by sheer dumb luck that she hadn't gotten pregnant that night, weeks before, that the course of their lives could have been irrevocably altered. They had been through so much, had tempted fate too many times; though he'd never meant to be so reckless, something about her brought out that side of him. Maybe it was a lack of experience. Maybe an older version of himself would have had more control and better sense. But what was done, was done, and there was no going back.

Though she wasn't pregnant, he still felt himself bound to her. It was possible, he reflected, that he hadn't escaped fate after all. Plans would have to change, there was no avoiding that now; for better or worse, he couldn't leave her. Although he knew a child was the most ill-advised idea possible at that particular time, a part of him harbored regrets. For all that he had been terrified of the idea, there was a part of him that had liked it as well. That part of him had felt that, perhaps, there were worse things than being bound to this woman he loved, in a concrete way that no one could have denied, and that to have made something that was of her and of himself would have been beautiful, no matter how bad of an idea it was.

"I love you, Mary Shannon," he whispered, giving voice to the feeling that lay at the center of his tangled thoughts, knowing that in her sleep, she wouldn't hear him.

A/N: I love Marshall when he's jumping to conclusions. I really, really do. =P

Thank you to my readers for reading, and thanks also for all the wonderful reviews! Let me know what you think, and stick around for next time! =)