Thanks to all who have taken the time to review; I appreciate it. Extra thanks to Kellie and Lexie for their superb beta skills. And thoughts/prayers going out to Jen and her family who are suffering a family-emergency right now. Love to you, Jen, for all you do for everyone. Thanks to Kellie and Lexi for pinch hitting. :)

This is the final chapter. Thanks for joining me for the ride.

Sleep blurred his vision. He used the back of his hand to scrub his eye as he shuffled down the hall.

Her feet were tucked under her and she leaned against one arm of the sofa, studying the file in her hand. Their new witnesses' info, he had no doubt. She tipped the file closer to the light and he watched her eyes crinkle slightly as she squinted.

He padded quietly to the back of the sofa and leaned over, in her space enough for the coconut scent in her shampoo to tickle his nose.

"Approximately fourteen billion Americans need corrective lenses," he whispered in her ear, tenderly pulling her hair out of her face.

A week ago, he wouldn't have had the nerve to exhibit such intimate contact. But something had changed; she was making an effort to let him into her life in a way she never had before.

He knew if he pushed too hard, she'd still run like a cornered cat. But he was taking what she was offering and being grateful for the opportunity. On a purely intellectual level, Marshall knew that the desperation with which he readily accepted the affection she was slowly doling out was enough to send him to therapy for years. But he held fast to the hope that this wasn't a fleeting fancy for her.

She ignored his presence. Almost. Involuntarily and almost imperceptibly, her head tipped slightly away from him, exposing her neck. "I don't need glasses."

His fingers twitched at the exposed, inviting slope of her neck. Marshall chuckled at her stubbornness. "The right pair of frames can be quite appealing on a woman."

"Christ, Marshall, I don't need glasses," she huffed. She tipped her head again to glare out of the corner of her eye.

The front of her neck taunted him and he briefly struggled with primitive urges – such as the overwhelming desire to latch onto her creamy flesh and leave a giant mark, branding her to all who saw.

Yeah. That may not be worth the black eye, he thought to himself, knowing he'd have to justify that to Stan. However, a broken finger may not be so hard to explain.

He trailed the fingers of his left hand gently down her flesh. Dipping behind her ear, running down her neck and, ever so gently, tracing swirls into the valley above her collarbone; he watched her pulse flutter under her skin and heard her breath catch in her throat.

Mary shifted on the sofa, tossing the file folder onto the coffee table without much regard for orderliness.

"Marshall."

His fingers stilled. "Want me to stop?"

"Not really but… yeah," she said, clearing her throat.

"Ok," was his only reply.

Her ears picked up the hurt in his voice, despite his attempt to hide it.

She reached up and quickly grabbed his wrist, preventing him from retreating to their 'safe' territory where 'just friends' signs were plastered around every waking moment.

"We're not in Texas anymore."

"The dry heat kinda gave that away, Mare."

"I'm serious, Marshall… Anything that happens now is real."

He frowned, trying to follow her. "So Texas wasn't real?"

She turned in her seat, meeting his gaze, her hand still firmly locked on his arm. "I'm a crazy bitch. I don't apologize for it. I have a fucked up family and I come with enough baggage to need a freakin' bell hop. I am cranky and whiny. I'm not sure I know how to have a 'healthy normal relationship' – whatever the hell that means. My biological clock's ticking; I've got to decide soon if I want to pass on my fucked up genetics to the next generation, not to mention burdening some poor kid with Grandma Jinx."

Marshall's gaze never waivered. "Was any of that supposed to surprise me?"

"Seriously, Marshall? What the hell is wrong with you? I don't understand why you don't just set your sights on some nice girl who didn't try to redecorate her house to include a bullet-room. You can pop out some cute little Mann babies- "

Her words were silenced by his lips gently caressing hers. "Mare, 'some nice girl' would bore the hell out of me. I need someone to keep my life messy," he whispered, his breath tickling her lips.

"I trust you not to break my heart," she offered. "I just don't trust me not to break yours."

"We'll figure it out, Mary. We always do," he said, letting her lean in slightly and tentatively kiss him.