Huge thanks to Lunar_Penguin for the beta and the confidence.

This was written for the 12-days challenge on LJ.

Disclaimer : I own nothing. Seriously. But if you're in IPS writer, feel free to use my stories.

"Love is so simple". Jacques Prévert.

Marshall knew that he shouldn't have asked Mary to come along. He and Abby had planned… to spend the Thanksgiving holiday weekend's skiing in Breckenridge, CO, in order to reconcile their relationship. They had undergone some troubles throughout Mary's pregnancy, as Marshall had developed a kind of obsession for the baby her partner was carrying, and had spent an awful amount of time taking her to sonogram, birthing classes, checking on her diet, and so many other pregnancy-related things that Abby had tried to stop him. They'd had many huge arguments about it. One of the huge arguments, was, ironically enough, interrupted by Mary's phone call informing Marshall that her water had broken. Naturally, Marshall had left on the spot, to help his best friend through the birth. He was inside the delivery room, holding Mary's hand, as per the role of the dutiful father. Delivery had been long and painful, and he doubted that Mary had noticed it when he cut the cord. His heart still ached when he remembered the pain displayed on his partner's face throughout the labour.

It had been one month since then.

One month since the adoption…

Three weeks since Mary was discharged from the hospital…

And fifteen days since she started to get back in shape for work.

She had put a lot of effort into it; undoubtedly to erase the images in her mind and to ease the pain of giving her child away. She worked to block out the whining of her mother and sister and to stifle the deep pain she felt inside. She couldn't help but cringe at the loss of her baby. Although she did not admit it, Mary thought would have been a very good mother: tough, but caring and loving. However, as she told Marshall so often, it was neither the right father, nor the right time for it.

She had lost a spark in her eyes and lost some of her laugh lines. Marshall had come to her house once or twice unannounced to find her with red, puffy, swollen eyes, and tear stains streaking down her face. It was then that, without thinking, he'd invited her on his Thanksgiving vacation with Abigail.

Abby reacted badly, giving him more "there are more than the two of us in this relationship" talks. Marshall maintained his position that Mary was just his friend; his best friend who just needed help right now. He made sure they booked separated, non-adjoining rooms in the resort. If he believed the brochure, they were even on separated wings of the hotel.

If all went according to plan, they would only meet at meal times and on the slopes. He hoped his two women could behave a little bit in the small amount of time they would have to share together. Thankfully, they didn't share the same car to head to Breckenridge, as Mary had an appointment before leaving.

'At least one chance for an argument had been avoided,' thought Marshall as he began unpacking. Abigail was in the bathroom taking a shower, and he noted she'd not asked him to come in. He sighed. A small rift had been developing between the two of them, and he intended to work on bridging it over the course of the weekend. He hoped he could find time to talk to Mary without causing World War III.

-o-o-

Mary sat on the bed, aimlessly channel-surfing hoping something would catch her attention. She knew she shouldn't have agreed to come to this week end, and, though she didn't believe in psychics, she was foreseeing trouble. It didn't take a clairvoyant to see that the detective hadn't been pleased of all the time Marshall had spent with her during and after her pregnancy. Mary hadn't re-qualified yet for field work and he was still coming by often. They mostly ran together in the chilly November nights, or going to a public range, so she could work her shooting. Re-qualifications were due in the second week of December, two months after she had actually given birth to her daughter.

Her daughter.

Even though she willingly gave her up for adoption, deep down in her heart she was missing her baby. But Mary knew that this child deserved much better than what she could offer: a loving family. She would have lived in a single parent home, and Mary knew that she wouldn't have been able to keep her job in WitSec if she had kept her; not if she was alone to raise her. She would have had to transfer to court surveillance, or boring desk duty; something that had a more structured schedule in order to be there at the appropriate times to pick her up from school or whatnot. She knew she would have ended blaming her kid for making her quit her work, or more importantly, leaving her partner.

No, it wasn't the right time for a child, nor the right moment, and most of all, not the right father.

Mary sighed again. She realized the television was on Weather Channel, and that Storm Chasers was on. She remembered seeing this show a lot with her partner; whether at his place, or during a transfer. He was addicted to those kinds of shows. She knew he even had an app on his phone signaling him about the next storms and tornadoes and their locations – in case they were close enough to watch. Once, he had dragged her through one of the Dakotas because he was sure he could see one. They had arrived at the location two hours late; there had been nothing to see but land and clouds.

She smiled as she remembered giving Marshall hell for wasting her time, and how it had lasted a full two weeks. But she would never admit to anyone that she had, in fact, wanted to see the tornado.

She rose from the queen sized bed, and headed to the window, looking at the panorama outside. The view from her room was of the mountains, covered with immaculate snow. Pine trees dotted the landscape here and there, giving the scene a green touch. Three colors were displayed, only three. White, green, and blue.

'I shouldn't be here,' she thought again. It wasn't her place. But she needed so much to get out of Albuquerque for a few days. Everything reminded her of the past year... the restaurant that she'd had dinner at with Mark, Abby and Marshall, the hospital where she gave birth, and the streets she'd wandered, almost alone, feeling her baby moving in her belly. For the first time in nearly ten years, she felt suffocated in Albuquerque and Marshall's proposition to escape for a weekend was a blessing. But she realized the place wasn't important, if she needed to move, it could be anywhere. Denver – no, not Denver because of Faber, or Miami – no, not Miami, because even humidity's humid there, or San Francisco – yes, San Francisco. Oh, crap, I only have winter clothes … Seattle then... she thought, and started packing.

She barely heard the knock on the door, but reacted when she felt a presence behind her. She automatically reached to her back, where her Glock used to be, and found an empty spot.

"You didn't re-qualify for shooting yet, Mare. It's not there for the moment." Marshall's voice was smooth, kind, not mocking.

Mary turned to see her partner, hands in his front pockets, legs slightly apart, his cowboy jacket still on, looking at her. No doubt, his eyes were really the same shade as the sky.

"Yeah, whatever. Sooner it comes home the better." Mary felt naked without her gun close to her, and almost defenseless. Almost. Some instructors and several bad guys could testify she could fight without any weapon.

"What are you doing, Mary? Still haven't finished unpacking?"

Mary turned to see Marshall looking around the room, checking on the empty drawers, and the vanity bag on the bed, close to the suitcase.

"Not unpacking, as I see, but the opposite. Already planning on running away, Sunshine?" Blue eyes were trying to catch the green eyes that Mary kept down.

Marshall sighed, and took a step forward, to meet his partner. His hand went to her left arm, slightly moving up and down in a reassuring manner. He didn't say another word, knowing she would speak when she was ready. He was a very patient man.

Mary stepped out of his hands, and walked back to the windows to continue looking outside. She knew she should tell him the truth; there had never been anything hidden between them. She gathered her courage, and decided to spit it out.

"I'm not staying, Marshall. It's your weekend with Abby. I don't have my place here. I'll leave tomorrow morning." She turned to look at him when she finished speaking.

Marshall was immersed in green eyes, a shade lighter than the pine trees he could see behind the glass.

He nodded his head in acknowledgment, relieved that she had come to the same conclusion as he and Abby.

"Okay. But we're having dinner tonight. The three of us; my treat." Marshall spoke in a quiet voice. "And I don't want you to think I don't want to have you here. I would gladly spend some time with you but Abby…" he trailed off.

"Miss Perky Texas doesn't think it's a good idea to have me around," she finished for him, "I get it, Marshall. You spent way too much time with me already, I know. Is something wrong between the two of you? Not that it's my business, but..." Mary began to look for her Blackberry. She could have sworn she'd left it on the night stand. She moved to the bathroom.

"I don't know, Mare, she's been distant lately. Cold, even sometimes, and the only thing that cheered her up was when I offered to come up here with her. The cheering stopped when I mentioned I had invited you too. I really want this relationship to work …. Would you, by any chance, have any idea of what's been going on with her ?"

She heard the creaking of the mattress and Mary knew Marshall had seated himself on her bed. She was glad to be in the bathroom, as she could grip the sink tightly while closing her eyes without him seeing her. She knew she had to gather herself, before she could answer. She had to stop the tears from coming to her eyes and not let that little bit of hope to rise.

Marshall was in a relationship now. He was happy with Abby, and she didn't have any part in it. Mary knew she had had her chance a few years back, but she let it pass. Now that she knew her feelings for Marshall were not reciprocated any longer, she had to behave as per her role: his friend. She composed herself and stood in the frame of the door, looking at her partner.

"I seriously hope you're joking…" she asked, and Marshall's eyebrows lifted in questioning. "You are really asking me for advice about your love life? Do you remember what my love life is like? Married at seventeen, divorced a month later, then Cowboys, baseball players, FBI crapass, and knocked up by ex husband… the list goes on. Besides, I'm not sure Abby would be very pleased that you asked me; and definitely wouldn't like finding you here right now. You should go and rent your skiing equipment, Bode Miller, and I'll see you at dinner, and then in Albuquerque on Monday."

Mary turned on her heels, and went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She stood there, with her back against the wood, holding her breath until she heard the familiar noise of boots leaving her room.

Mary felt herself falling down on the ground. Once seated, she pulled her knees up to her chin. She didn't know when her feelings towards her partner had changed, when they had turned from friendship to something deeper. She realized all of them in the delivery room, when he, the supportive friend, the loyal partner had been there for her, again, never judging her choice of giving the baby up. When he had held her daughter, and showed her the little pink girl, she remembered clearly having thought it was a pity Marshall wasn't the father, because this is what would have been right.

Afterward, she had blamed these feelings on hormones, and later on the baby blues, when she spent hours a day crying for no reason, and spent days on the couch with Oscar by her side, the faithful dog comforting her. When he had come to her, she had dried the tears, and tried to behave normally, with her usual sarcasms and irony. Marshall said nothing, but came back a few days later, fully dressed for a run and had dragged her along, in order for her to regain her shape and hopefully be able to re-qualify earlier. Mary will never admit that his move (along with the rides to the shooting range) had probably prevented her from having a nervous breakdown.

-o-o-

Dinner was held in the hotel's elegant dining room, and Mary regretted almost immediately wearing her usual jeans and tank top. Her regret grew when she saw Marshall and Abby already seated. Her partner has his usual trial suit on, and Abby was wearing a little black dress with her stupid pearls. Mary wondered whether Little Miss Cheerleader wore them in the shower or not.

'Sure she does, they are embedded into her skin,' she thought, before looking at the whole room again. She really didn't fit in it, with her casual clothes, and could see the brows of several people rising as they looked at her. She also noticed Marshall starting to rise from his chair to come to her help, but she immediately signaled him to stay seated. She was a U.S. Marshal. She had a gun (usually), and she wouldn't let a roomful of posh people ruin her evening. She carefully took her leather jacket of off her shoulders, deliberately going slow, so that she was sure everybody got a view of the shiny USMS badge she was wearing on her belt, at her right hip. She could see the smirk on Marshall's face, and his slight nod of acknowledgment, before Abby turned to whisper to him, obviously not pleased by Mary's outfit or attitude.

The meals were delicious. Mary spent almost of the dinner trying not to react to Abby's comments about what she was wearing ( "Mary, you should have asked. I would have told you it was a classy restaurant, and you wouldn't have embarrassed yourself"), about the quality of the food, or trying to prove both her and Marshall that she knew her boyfriend much more than Mary did. And Mary could see the frown on Marshall's eyebrows going deeper and deeper, as his girlfriend giggled more and more about their "awesome relationship". Green eyes locked with blue, and a silent conversation happened, one begging the other to stay calm, reassuring him that she would be gone on the next morning, and the other finding patience and peace in the deep of her pupils.

Dessert finally arrived, and Mary started to relax. Another few minutes and she would be heading towards her room, being able to fly in the morning. She had booked a flight to San Francisco, finally choosing California instead of Seattle, and had asked for a cab to pick her at 7:00am, preventing her to meet either of them. Mary finally looked at her plate, to see a beautifully crafted jell-o cake in shades from orange to light yellow, and eagerly grabbedtook her spoon to eat it. The sooner the better, she thought, and started cutting her part.

"Marshall! You saw it! She did it on purpose!" Abby was wiping the front of her dress, which happened to be covered in the orange jello that had come directly from Mary's spoon. Marshall was hiding his laugh behind his napkin, and Mary had her hand in front of her mouth blushing all the while.

"No, Abby, I swear, it slipped from my spoon when the waiter bumped into me. I would never do that!" Mary mentally corrected herself, 'I would do that, but not in the middle of a posh restaurant, but otherwise, I would oh so do that.'

"Yes, sweetheart, it happened because of …." Marshall started to try to help his girlfriend with the jello in her small cleavage, but Abby wasn't finished yet.

"And of course, you come to her rescue! You always choose her over me! You spent your nights with her when she was in the maternity, you spent your days covering for her work, you babysat her dog, this horrible drooling animal, and here again, for our weekend, you find nothing else to do than to invite her! It's always about Mary... Couldn't it be for once, just for me?" Tears shone in the corners of Abby's eyes, who stood up, and left the table, hurrying as fast as possible on her impossibly high heels.

Marshall looked between the two women. Mary had her head down, staring at her plate, and he almost didn't hear what she told him.

"Go for her, Marshall. I will be gone tomorrow morning."

The lanky man rose from his chair, and started to make his way to his girlfriend, now sobbing in the lobby while waiting for the elevator, but he stopped beside Mary, whispering to her .

"I'm sorry, Mare, I saw the waiter, it wasn't not your fault..."

The blond woman lifted her head, and Marshall could see sadness pouring out of her eyes.

"It's never my fault, Marshall... but people always blame everything on me... and eventually they even leave me."

"I won't leave you, Mare, you know that..." Mary could feel Marshall's hand on her left arm, and in a second he was gone, trying to save the remnants of his relationship.

Mary sighed, then stood up, grabbed the bill, and made her way to the till, whispering "You've already left me. And I can't even blame you for that."

-o-o-

Mary was laying on her bed, eyes wide open. Last time she checked on the clock on the nightstand, it was 2:37 am; sleep evaded her tonight. Her mind kept replaying scenes from this evening, and she couldn't understand Abigail's words. During the last year, Abby had always behaved normally with her, chatting when they were on the same cases, never asking why two U.S. Marshals could be found on some locations. Mary even remembered some times when the detective came to ask her things about Marshall's tastes, or even trying to befriend. Mary never thought that Abby disliked her this much, and she couldn't think of what she had done to deserve this treatment. As for that judgment on Marshall… well, he definitely didn't deserve that.

She turned to her right side, still trying to find sleep. She was hoping her partner would fix things up with his girlfriend. He deserved to be happy. Mary sighed, closing her eyes, trying to avoid the little voice in her head that said: Are you sure this is what you want? Wouldn't you prefer to be the one he holds at night?

"Oh shut up, Jiminy Cricket", she moaned to that little voice up there, and she dragged the sheets up to her chin, to feel the warmth of it.

She almost missed the knock on the door.

She first thought it was a noise outside, some kind of fucking little stupid animal who had nothing else to do at 3:02 am than partying it up in its nest or burrow, or whatever place it lives in. But then, the part of a brain that was still partly awoken told her it came from the door. And there was no way a squirrel would knock.

In no time, Mary was back in U.S. Marshal mode, then realizing after only a second that she didn't have her gun yet, and headed to the door, being ready to fight as soon as she opened it.

Marshall was standing there, eyes red, and his bag next to his legs, looking tired. He looked at his partner, in her sleeping outfit, and noticed with slight amusement that he had found his missing t-shirt.

"Sorry I woke you up, Mare. Can I come in? It seems I am roomless for the night. Abby asked me to leave to, and I quote, 'Go back to her as quickly as I can.' She is a bit upset." His words were rushed as he anxiously rubbed the nape of his neck.

'It looked like she was more than just upset, if she had kicked him out,' thought Mary.

"Sure, come on in, Doofus. The bed is big enough for the two of us." she said, before adding " but I'm not sure your girlfriend would be pleased to know that we are sharing a bed, so…" Mary trailed off as she gestured to the floor, doing her best to prevent from adding fuel to the fire. The lanky man turned to her, and shook his head.

"Of one of the few things I'm actually sure of, is the fact that I can't call Abby my girlfriend anymore. She made that clear. So I guess I'm joining you on the trip back to Albuquerque tomorrow, Sunshine." Marshall was exhausted; Mary could see it on his face.

She said nothing about California. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough. She simply turned around the bed, helped him to remove his suit vest, and carefully folded it on the chair nearby ( she didn't want to get the speech on how to keep the clothes without wrinkles at this hour in the morning) before going back to her side and getting into bed.

Marshall put his shoes away, and still fully dressed, climbed into the bed, shut off the lights and turned on his side.

A few minutes later, Mary heard his breathing even out and before finally slipping into sleep, She whispered softly, so as not to be heard, " I've missed you. "

Finally, she allowed herself to relax enough for her to get some rest, and was stunned when she felt sheets being moved. Then, she felt an arm come around her waist, lingering, but not holding. Her friend, partner, came closer, finally saying in her ear "I've missed you too, Mare. We have time to catch", before a light kiss was placed on her cheek.

Maybe not love yet, but something more than friendship was blooming. Time would tell.

Here it is ...

If you liked it; please review :) It feeds me to write more stories !