A/N: I know I've got other stories to finish. And I'm going to finish them. But sometimes, you get to a point where you're stuck. And my head is kind of stuck in everything I'm writing right now. This is kind of my way out.

So, I hope you don't mind.

It's a song five-parter fic and as per my head, it's a Jommy...if you wanna look at it that way. Everything that happened in Season 3 still happened and Jude made her choice...Tommy. This is the aftermath.

Song information is…"Goodnight, Goodnight" by Maroon 5. I don't know what it is with their current album, but I have been in love with it since it was released and I see every song as something I can use in a story. It's so bad! But I figured you'd want to know what the song was now, just in case you'd like to listen to it while you read or if you've never heard of it before. But I will say it does almost make me want to cry.

Um, I've also been writing an entire fic of one shots based on Maroon 5 songs, but that won't get posted for awhile. This one is ready, so here it is.

I hope you like it.

THANKS MUCHO!

Goodnight, Goodnight

Chapter One

"You Left Me Hanging"

"She's yours," she whispered, standing with her head down, her hands fumbling with each other in nervousness.

His eyes widened, his heart stopped, and his stomach lurched as if he had just come to a complete stop on some crazy, wild rollercoaster.

Because that's what his life had become.

He sighed heavily, not knowing what to say.

"Come on, Quincy. Say something," she said, looking up at him, her vision beginning to blur with tears. But she didn't need her sight to know what he looked like. She knew. Always had since the moment she had laid eyes on him.

Even now, standing in the middle of the dim G-Major parking lot, she knew.

His dark hair. His blue eyes. His full lips. She knew. In more ways than one.

Because he was hers.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked.

Her eyes glared vividly. "Something. Anything, damnit!" she cried. She huffed loudly, knowing he was still the placid man she had walked out on five years ago.

He hadn't changed.

"Jude-" he started. He needed her to understand.

He had changed.

For her.

She glanced away quickly and then looked back at him a second later. "Don't. Just don't, Quincy," she spat.

"I love you, Jude," he responded, his voice full of conviction. A conviction he didn't even know he had until that moment.

"It doesn't matter," she said, shaking her head. She pulled her jacket closer to her, a wind beginning to pick up in the midnight sky. "This was a mistake. I've gotta go. She's waiting."

You left me hanging from a thread we once swung from together
I've lick my wounds but I can't ever see them getting better
Something's gotta change
Things cannot stay the same

He pressed his head against the cool leather of his Viper. Her face was permanently plastered into his mind.

"She's yours."

How could he have ever formed words to react to that? How?

There was no way on God's green earth that he would have ever formed coherent sentences to let her know he understood.

Because he did.

Maybe he always had and it wasn't until now that he finally admitted it.

He didn't know. But it didn't matter.

Things had been so different for so long that everything was hitting him from all sides.

He was a father.

He had a daughter.

And he still loved Jude.

After everything they had been through.

He sat back in his seat and sighed heavily, remembering the last time he saw Jude.

He was so stupid. He had lost everything that ever meant anything to him.

He had come home, drunk as usual, only to find her sitting Indian-style on their bed with her bags packed. The bed was made, the sheets tucked in at all sides as if no one had slept in the bed for a while.

At least he knew he hadn't been in their bed for awhile.

"I've had enough," she said, her voice full of venom, her jaw clenched.

Her words had not penetrated his thick skull until it was too late, the front door of their loft slamming loudly. He knew they had had problems.

That he was the source of them. Staying out at all times of the night, worrying her to death until she became numb to it all and stopped caring.

But that night, he didn't care. Because he had also stopped caring.

Their relationship stayed rocky after her 18th birthday. They were good, bad, and in between.

They had been happy, sad, and just okay.

The worst part was that no one knew. Everyone thought they had bounced back and were stronger than ever after Hunter was arrested and he had kissed Sadie.

But they weren't. And it was his fault.

She trusted him beyond belief, but he always managed to find a way to fuck it all up.

Late nights. Parties. Alcohol. Different women.

Although he never cheated on her physically, he had emotionally.

And it wasn't until now, five years later, that he understood he had taken everything she had ever given him and gave nothing in return.

He was a fucking screw up. But he had grown up and gotten his shit together.

He just had to make her see.

Her hair was pressed against her face, her eyes were red with anger
Enraged by things unsaid and empty beds and bad behavior
Something's gotta change
It must be rearranged, oh

He walked into studio A and saw her sitting in the live room on a stool.

He dropped his jacket and leaned against the soundboard, pressing the intercom button.

"Hey Jude," he said, smiling widely.

She looked up from the guitar on her lap and smirked.

It had been a month since he had come back and Jude had told him he was a father.

A long, hard month, but they had persevered.

They were friends.

"It's your turn to pick up Marie from school, you know."

"It's in my crackberry," he said, holding up one of the most offending objects that he owned. At least in Jude's mind.

"I've got a song," she said, smiling.

"Let's do this then," he responded.

He pulled out a swivel chair and planted himself in it. She began strumming lightly. A chord here and there, then when she finally found the perfect structure, she began to sing.

He leaned back, not really paying attention. He just loved to hear her voice. A voice he hadn't heard in years.

A voice that wasn't yelling at him or that wasn't connected to a body part that was throwing something at his head.

When he was in France, he would listen to her four albums on repeat, just to hear her voice. It was an obsession.

Something almost impossible to break.

Even now. On the rare day that he didn't work with her, he would put her albums on and just listen. No one knew but him.

He reveled in the sound that was floating through the speakers, thinking about how badly he had messed up and how much he wish he hadn't let Jude walk away.

That he had fought for them, not against them.

He knew it was still too soon to make any future plans with her.

But they had a daughter together.

And that changed everything.

Whether Jude would be willing to admit it, they were a family.

And sooner or later, he was coming home.

I'm sorry, I did not mean to hurt my little girl
It's beyond me, I cannot carry the weight of the heavy world
So goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight
Goodnight, hope that things work out all right, yeah
Whoa