(Just a little something I've been brewing in my mind since the season five premiere, it just so happens now I have a little more to work with! Please enjoy! Comments and Suggestions are appreciated ) ~Hannanball13

"Oh I'm findin' that's not the way I want my story to end…"

-Sober, Pink

(Post All's Well that Ends)

"I actually like Abigail." Those words tasted like vinegar passing her lips. Yeah sure, she could stand a game night with her; put up with Nancy Drew showing up at a crime scene every now and then, but what she couldn't stand was how she had taken her only friend away from her. One minute he was there, by her side, like he had promised her so many times he would be, and the next, Detective Chaffee was wearing his ring, hair flip giggling at each and every one of his factoids, clinging to his arm at every outing, even Stan's celebratory banquet.

What had she been thinking? Yes, she was perfect, beautiful, and she made Marshall happy, but a Mrs. Mann she wasn't. Maybe Abigail was a great person, a stand up gal, who deserved a stand-up guy, but Marshall just wasn't the stand-up guy for her. Not that they didn't mesh, if they meshed anymore they'd be an all too revealing sports jersey, but Marshall believed in that soul mate phooey and they were most definitely not soul mates.

Jeez, she could barely stand herself these days, going on about this soul mate bull, if it was possible, she had contracted a case of cold feet for her former partner that was discouraging enough to halt the plans even the most sure minded man or woman whose wedding was in the near future.

If it couldn't be any worse, Norah was cutting her first tooth, now mothering the crankiest baby in Albuquerque she had to deal with Brandi, who had been getting worked up over just about anything these days. Mary sighed, remembering yesterday she started blubbering seeing one measly twenty second commercial for Peter's dealership. If Marshall's wedding didn't kill her, putting up with the ball of hormones that was her sister for another three months most definitely would.

One day, on a particularly chilly evening in May, at her wits end she caught herself jamming in the number for Marshall on her speed dial, unfortunately she realized much too late to hit "end" and pretend like it never happened. When his voice poured into her ear, politely curious and thoughtful, she had to shudder,

"Is everything all right?" was his question. Not "What's Up?" or "How's it going?"

It was his "I'm kinda busy right now" reply, it was his way of nicely saying "someone better be dying, Brandi better be in labor or your house better be on fire". Mary cleared her throat, more than ready to ask him to grab a slice after work tomorrow, or get a cup of coffee in the morning, but the impatient Marshall shot back with "Mary, are you there?" before she could even part her lips to speak. Taken aback yet again by his unusually brusque response she fumbled to form words that made an appropriate reply,

"Oh Marshall? Damn, I'm sorry, didn't meant to bug you! My finger must have slipped, I meant to call Mark!" What a lie. She didn't call Mark, Mark showed up and Marshall knew that, he knew that all too well.

"Okay. I gotta let you go then, just discussing some floral arrangements with Abigail. See ya in the morning."

"Yep, I'll bring the coffee kay doofus?" she added abruptly, ready to kick herself in the ass, if only she could have bit her tongue, she could have been spared the awkward, pitiful rebuttal,

"Uhhh, Abby and I, we actually were gonna have a breakfast date tomorrow, you and Kenny interested?" Marshall offered. Mary knew his eyes were now seeking his fiancés look of approval,

"Yeah, nahhh, Kenny just isn't the 'early morning breakfast date' kinda guy, I'll pass, maybe squish can hook me up with a homemade pot of joe tomorrow morning, have fun with your flower's doofus, take it easy."

And there it had been, the most painful conversation she had ever had with him, after how many years of partnership they had just had their first truly uncomfortable discussion over the phone? It was sickening, ever since she had 'let him go', there had been dozens of insignificant changes in their relationship, but as dumb as it sounded every time she turned that exact occasion over in her mind the more it hurt her feelings. Had 'letting him go' really meant cutting off all ties to him when not at work? Did it really mean no late night twelve cuts, half anchovy, half cheese? Was it truly the end to their typical, playful banter? Apparently so, because now that Law Enforcement Barbie had him wrapped around her flawless manicured little finger Mary hadn't had a conversation longer than ten minutes with him.

How could she have been so foolish? She had said it once, she'd thought it a thousand more times this past month; Marshall was her best friend, her only friend. And there had been a time, before Abigail came prancing into his life where it had been the same for him as well.

Mary was lost in her own mind, drowning in Marshall's exact words, "You have to let me go". When she agreed to such a statement it seemed impossible to her that she had dug herself into the seemingly never ending pit, practically concluding the only stable relationship in her life (besides Norah).

She stared at the dress she was forced to purchase for his wedding, the only time she ever got to speak with him always had to be work related, because of his new chief status, or the big Chaffee- Mann soirée coming up in just a little over a week. And to be honest, that was literally the last thing on her mind, what she wanted to talk about was how much baby Benadryl is too much? She wanted camaraderie, full blown, sarcastic bantering, and mockery the whole ridiculing shebang! Was that too much to ask?

As the cries from her screeching infant jolted her back to reality, she realized, this is not the way she wanted it to be. If Marshall had to marry Abigail, Mary wanted at least a tiny piece of him, she wanted that best friend part of him back, the part of him she shared her miniscule pet peeves with, occasionally lent an ear to a recitation of Shakespeare for and the part of him she made pay her back for overpriced coffee every morning. She wanted at least that, she needed at least that, without the soft cushion that was Marshall, when she fell, she would fall hard. If he had truly wished her to be happy that day on the roof , he would have to understand he was necessary in doing exactly that. By the end of the night, she had finally convinced herself, that her life would never be a true life without the intermittent companionship of her best friend. Stuck with her sister, roughing it with Norah and absolutely miserable was not how she wanted her story to end.