Spoilers for 5.7

She lay in bed tossing and turning, try as she might her body was as restless as her mind. Everything seemed to be running on a loop without a pause. Father Emery. Rose. Mei Lin. Lucien. Edward Bloody Tennyman. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about her, about them and yet it felt as though she was the only one who hadn't been able to put a voice to it. She of course heard about Lucien's outburst at the station, and then again at the newspaper office - a small part of her was flattered. She knew he was only that angry, that expressive because it was about her. He didn't care if they drug his good name through the dirt.

Jean laughed aloud in the empty room filled with darkness. Oh the irony, he couldn't care lest it was about her and she couldn't be bothered unless it ruined him. What a pair she thought to herself, no wonder the whole town saw it before they did.

She glanced at the clock, it was nearly 1am. With a huff she flipped the light on and drew herself up against the headboard. Last night she was angry at Rose and well the town. Yes Lucien too but she couldn't completely feel the weight of her rage until today. Until she found out he had been getting drunk with a potential suspect. Until she got a call from her son, Christopher, worried about her. She realized it wasn't just the two of them, they were a family, but Lucien had forgotten about that when he went behind her back. She understood why of course, and part of her honestly wasn't surprised he had fallen on his sword. What she couldn't understand was the secrecy, and it left her wondering how to forgive him.

He offered her an out, an opportunity to leave with as much dignity as one could salvage at this point, but it wasn't even something she could entertain. Jean felt her body shake as the rage she felt earlier built up once more. The fact that he could be so noble as to even suggest it made her see red. Didn't he know her at all?! After all this time had he really not understood what commitment, love, and partnership really meant?

Her fists pounded the mattress as her body needed an outlet for the waves of emotion flooding through her body. She took several deep breaths trying to calm herself when her eyes caught the light glinting on the ceiling - the pale aquamarine broach he had given her for her birthday was laying on her dresser. The light from across the room struck it at just the right angle to cause it to sparkle and dance across the ceiling. Tears instantly filled her eyes, threatening to spill out.

No, I suppose he doesn't. She realized, answering her own question as she crossed the room and picked up the delicate piece of jewelry. He's gone his whole life having people walk out on him for one reason or another - some unwilling of course, but the result was just the same. Lucien doesn't know anything else but loss.

She wiped her eyes and wrapped her robe around her. She clutched the broach to her chest and quietly made her way downstairs to his bedroom. There wasn't any sign of light beneath his door or sounds that he was awake. She hesitated to knock, on one hand if he was actually asleep she wanted to let him be goodness knows he needed it but on the other she really wanted to speak with him. In the cover of darkness without murders and prying eyes to interrupt she needed to see him.

She raised her hand and was about to knock when she heard a sound down the hall. Quickly she turned around expecting to see Charlie or Matthew coming from the kitchen, to her surprise it was Lucien.

"Jean, what's the matter? Are you alright?" He rushed to her side eyes full of concern.

"You're awake?" She replied a bit confused and surprised to she him strolling the halls at this hour.

"Uh yes," he scratched the back of his head with his free hand, "I couldn't sleep."

Jean pointed to his hand, "and why are you carrying around a waste bin?"

"Oh, uh well," he stammered for a moment, "I was throwing out all the whiskey." He said sheepishly casting his eyes to the floor.

"Why are you throwing out all the whiskey Lucien?" She stepped closer to him peering into the empty basket.

"Nothing good seems to come with it around, so I thought it was time to give it up," he rubbed his beard, "at least until I can keep it to a minimum." His eyes still avoided meeting hers, but she needed to see him. Her fingers went to his chin and lifted his face to meet hers, "You don't have to give it up for me."

Lucien stared at her for a moment, "I'm giving it up for us."

Jean couldn't help the tears that pushed their way out of the corners of her eyes, it was what she needed to hear for two days. The words innocent and true, yet full of deeper meaning. Lucien dropped the basket to the floor and pulled her to him, embracing her fully.

"Oh Lucien," she cried out softly.

"Jean, I know I keep saying it but I'm sorry truly I am. I never want to hurt you, yet I seem to do it time and time again. I love you, and I am going to put this right," he whispered into her shoulder.

"I love you too," she whispered finally replying back to his words from earlier in the night. The sentiment was always felt, but she couldn't put voice to it until now. "Lucien, I'm not going anywhere," she pulled back and stared into his deep blue eyes, "you are never going to lose me because of one fight." Their gazes held steady, as the words sunk in. Lucien knew what she was referring to and it made him love her even more for it. He pulled her back to him placing a kiss to her forehead, "Never love, never."