Part III: Messy

Mary didn't know what she was doing here. Ok, she knew, but she could barely believe it. It was a little past eleven and she was standing on Marshall's front porch, too scared to knock, too afraid to turn back now.

Ridiculous. That's what this was. And selfish. But she had to try.

His words had followed her to Mexico, taunted her through her time with Faber, and now Marshall was dating. If she didn't move now he would be gone for good.

Taking a deep breath Mary knocked.

"Did you want to come up for a drink before you head home?" Sarah smiled warmly at him.

Marshall shook his head, "Sorry. Early morning tomorrow." And I am still in love with Mary his traitorous mind added.

She looked a little disappointed. "Ok. Call me?"

He nodded. They exchanged a brief goodnight kiss before Marshall climbed back into his SUV. The night had been a success. Sarah was as sweet as she had seemed on their first date and quite a dancer. If only he could shut up the voice in his head, the one that sounded suspiciously like his mother, from pointing out the million ways Sarah wasn't Mary, he could even see a long term relationship developing.

For tonight he would take the small victory of a fun third date and continue to block out the voice in his head. If he tried hard enough he knew he could train himself to move on. And if tonight was any indication he might even have some fun along the way.

He pulled into his driveway a few minutes before midnight. He was tired and didn't notice the blonde camped out on his front steps until he was practically on top of her.

"Mare?"

Mary raised her head slowly, the faint glow from the streetlights highlighted damp tear tracks on both cheeks. "Marshall?"

"What's wrong?" Mary was not a crier. If she was crying on his porch it was something devastating. His chest felt tight and he fought the urge to pull her into his embrace. She didn't want him, if he was going to survive that reality he had to keep his distance.

"I screwed everything up."

He waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't he told her to come in and led the way to his living room.

Mary sat in her usual place on his couch. She looked worse in the full light inside. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her hair was unbrushed and stuck up in weird peaks along the left side of her part and she was still wearing the same blouse she'd spilt coffee on that morning.

"Is it Brandi? Or Jinx?" He prompted, hoping to get her to explain what was wrong so he could fix it and get her out of there before he lost his willpower completely.

"Not them. It's…" Mary said shaking her head. She took a deep shuddering breath, "It's us."

For a moment the silence was absolute. Marshall wasn't even sure his heart was still beating, he'd certainly lost the ability to breathe. After too long he found his voice, "What about us, Mare?"

"I had it all wrong. I thought-" she looked up at him for a quick second and then fastened her eyes on her hands where they twisted in her lap, "I thought if there was an 'us' I would lose us. But I've lost us anyway and I think I've lost you too."

"You haven't lost me, Mare. I'm right here." Marshall told his treacherous heart to beat normally, but it wouldn't listen. In her way Mary was saying everything he'd ever wanted to hear. Is it enough?

Mary truly met his eyes for the first time that night. She seemed to be searching for something in them, rejection? forgiveness? acceptance? He wasn't sure which.

"Really?" She chewed uncertainly on her lower lip.

Marshall steeled himself against the rare vulnerability in her eyes and forced himself to keep his tone neutral. "We're partners. That isn't going to change. I'll always have your back."

"That's not—" Mary covered her face with both hands in frustration. Why didn't she have the words to tell this man what she wanted? Did she even know what she wanted? "I mean..."

Marshall purposefully focused on a spot above Mary's head and counted to ten. He didn't know what to say. For the second time in a year Mary had said something that drove a spike of hope through his vocal chords leaving him mute and on the brink of agony and ecstasy all at once.

After several beats of silence Mary gathered the courage to say something she had never thought before he had pointed out the error of her ways three weeks earlier. "I already trust you with my life, I want to trust you with my heart."

Marshall closed his eyes and commanded his hear to be still. He kept his eyes closed as he spoke, unwilling – unable – to see the pain in her eyes. "I would never intentionally hurt you, Mare, but—" He sighed, "It's been a long day and I need to think about this."

Mary rose too quickly from the couch, and her voice when she spoke was thick with hurt, "I'm sorry, Marshall. I shouldn't have come."

Before he could respond she was out the door and in less than a minute he heard her Mustang rumble to life.

Marshall sank onto the couch and tried to sort out the rush of thoughts in his head. He didn't have a lot of time. He knew Mary, sometimes better than he knew himself, and if she told herself he had rejected her she would slam the door on the possibility of them forever.

Mary made it three blocks before she had to pull over. She couldn't breathe, there was an icy fist squeezing her heart so hard she thought it might burst like a party balloon. She pulled the mustang onto the shoulder and let the tears flow. It was nearly twenty minutes before she was able to pull herself together enough to drive the rest of the way to her house.

She was stuck somewhere between self loathing and hope. It was unbearable.

But what had she expected? Honestly, that Marshall would tell her he was the one for her, followed by hot sex. Which was probably not very realistic she admitted with a rueful half smile.

At least he hadn't said no. Not outright. He'd said he needed to think. Which was fair. It had taken her seven years to clue in to her feelings for him, she couldn't fault him for wanting time for thought. Mary groaned. It was all logical, but the sick feeling in her stomach that told her she'd ruined everything was past listening to logic.

She pulled a bottle of whiskey out of its hiding place in the bathroom cupboard, behind the toilet paper – one of the places she'd hoped Jinx wouldn't accidentally find it. She didn't bother with a glass, just unscrewed the cap and brought the entire bottle with her into the back yard.

It was time to stop thinking.

For once, Marshall didn't think for long.

Logically he knew he was better off moving on. Mary was damaged goods, she was always sarcastic and occasionally cruel – though he didn't think she meant to be – and she would inevitably crush his heart into tiny shards he may never be able to glue back together. Objectively, logically, they would never work.

But sometimes logic failed. Sometimes you needed to just 'let go and let God', to borrow a phrase he'd heard a hundred times in his conservative home town. This simple fact was this: Heart trumps logic.

It was trite, practically a bumper sticker. But it was also true.

Less than half an hour after Mary left his apartment Marshall was on her heels.

Screw logic. He'd been waiting seven years for Mary to wake up and see what was right in front of her. He'd be damned if he let her slip away.

The drive seemed to take forever. He hit every single light just as it was turning red and seemed to get stuck behind an inordinate number of senior citizens given the late hour. When he finally pulled into Mary's driveway the house was dark. He climbed out of the truck anyway.

He knocked loudly, waited a few seconds and knocked again. No one answered. He sized up Mary's porch warily, it did not look like a comfortable place to sleep.

Sploosh. The distinct sound of body hitting water directed him around the side of the house to the back yard. In the moonlight he could see a bottle of Whiskey on the table, and Mary's head bobbing in the water. He smiled but it came out more grimace than grin. They were quite the pair, both diving head first into a bottle of whiskey to numb heartache.

"Mare?" He called when he was still several yards away from the pool's edge. He assumed she was unarmed, but with Mary it was always better safe than sorry.

The head in the pool turned towards him but she didn't speak.

Closer now he could see that the whisky bottle was open, but nearly full. "Mare?" He tried again.

"What?" She watched him but made no move to swim closer to the edge.

"There's something I have to tell you..." He began, toeing off his boots and leaving them to lie haphazardly on the grass. "It's something I've wanted to say for years..." His button down shirt joined his boots. "But the timing was never quite right." His jeans joined the growing pile of clothing, leaving him in only a pair of blue race car boxer shorts.

With surprising ease for a man of his height he slipped into the pool with barely a sound. "And I didn't want to scare you away."

He was close enough now he could make out the features of Mary's face in the moonlight. Her mouth hung open just a little and her eyes were huge. He slowly brought his arms up until they grasped her forearms gently. He made sure she could easily escape his hold if she wanted.

"Because, you see, I am insanely, madly, uncontrollably in love with you." He took a step closer, he could feel the heat of her body through the cool water of the pool. "And I would like nothing better than to spend the rest of my life proving that fact."

Mary stepped forward into his arms, resting her cheek against his bare chest. He held her close and breathed in her scent.

"I love you too." Mary whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear her.

He used one hand to gently tilt her face back so he could look into her eyes. "I meant what I said Mare, I will never intentionally hurt you."

She nodded. "I know."

"That doesn't mean it won't get messy."

"But maybe messy is what I need?"

"Brat."

"Idiot."

They were both smiling when their lips met. It was their second kiss in seven years but this time Mary didn't push him away. She pulled him closer.

It was a little messy. And it was everything they needed.