AN: Three weeks following Blue Bird, I still can't get over quite how beautifully done the episode was, I think that's why it has taken me so long to scramble together this little tag. Hope you enjoy and please review, it means more than I can tell. Happy sailing up Cannon River c:

"I suppose you'll be wanting your job back."

Abbott is looking down at her with a look she can't quite place. It is after noon now, and the sun is high in the sky, shining down on them where they stand just outside the airport. She thinks she can see a smug pride in his look, but how would that make any sense, she wonders vaguely. She feels Jane's grip on her hand and she squeezes his hand tightly as "Yes, please," she smiles ruefully, and she is aware of a change in Cho's expression from where he stands behind Abbott, and he says surely, quietly:

"Glad to have you back, Boss."

Abbott cocks an eyebrow and leans back slightly with a look around behind him to where Cho stands.

"Lisbon," Cho corrects. "Glad to have you back, Lisbon." He shrugs. "Old habits," he says, by way of explanation, and Lisbon's heart softens.

"Hear, hear," Abbott says, returning to his stance. "We'd be delighted to have you back, Lisbon. Some more than others, I daresay," he says, and Lisbon can feel the blush rising on her cheeks.

Jane hums his agreement. "Old habits, new habits," he smiles, gesturing with a wave of his free hand. "Same old us."

Abbott smiles, shakes his head at them and turns away. Jane is watching his retreating back, a smile on his face. Lisbon becomes aware of Cho's presence and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand. She's not uncomfortable - could never be uncomfortable with Cho - and yet it's a situation she never imagined playing out before her.

"So you're in love."

It's not a question. Jane barks out a laugh and Cho folds his arms.

"Very much so," Jane says, a smile as true as ever she saw on him stretched across his face and her heart surges.

"Lisbon?" Cho asks, and suddenly she realises this must be what it feels like to sit across the table from him in interrogations and not alongside.

She nods.

"Yes," she whispers. "Very much."

Cho pauses momentarily and then nods.

"Alright then." And he too turns and walks away.

She looks to her side and sees Jane's look of bemused bewilderment. He meets her look and nods. Silent conversations – they've been having them for years. With another light grasp of his hand, Lisbon drops Jane's hand and goes to walk on, but Jane has immediately grasped her hand, taking it back into his, turning her back towards him so that she stands facing him. He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it softly. Lisbon drops her gaze to the ground and smiles back up at him. He releases her hand from his hold, never breaking eye contact till she herself turns away.

"Kimball."

He is but a few steps ahead of her. He stops and turns to face her. Out of the corner of her eye she spies Jane wandering away out of Cho's line of sight, giving them a moment of privacy.

"Lisbon. Yep."

She looks up at him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Cho, I-"

"What are you doing, Lisbon? What is this?"

"I don't know, Cho."

"I don't understand."

He's looking at her with nothing but the concern of perhaps the truest friend she's ever held dear.

She shrugs, a rue smile on her lips. "Me neither."

"You're sure this is what you want? Not Pike, not D.C. – Jane?"

Cho watches his friend of close to fifteen years exhale and he recognises a deep serenity present in her now which had been absent before.

He smiles.

"If you're sure."

"I am."

"Good. As long as you're happy."

"I am."

"Good." Cho shrugs. "I suppose you always were the only one who could ever get through to him, keep him in check."

He pauses. "Let him know I'll be keeping an eye on him, keeping Rigsby up-to-date. You know. Just in case."

"Will do," Lisbon says.

She laughs and Cho smiles.

"Van Pelt's going to have a field day when she hears."

It's something that hadn't quite occurred to Lisbon before, but now as she thinks about other people's reactions to this recent development in their long relationship, a thought strikes her. She can admit her curiosity as to what their nearest and dearest will think but she also knows she won't care. Whatever they will think, whether they will say so or no, Lisbon will not concern herself. But Cho is right – as always – Van Pelt will likely burst a blood vessel from smiling so hard when she hears. Rigsby – hard to tell, but she imagines he'll think they're as crazy as each other. Hightower – wherever she is – would be satisfied, she knows – would raise a questioning eyebrow and give her a look not unlike the one given to her by Abbott only moments ago. Tommy will be cautiously optimistic and her Annie will be over the moon, she's sure, though her much loved niece might well resist having to share her favourite aunt with so attention-grabbing a person as Jane.

Lisbon feels her blood buzzing at the thought. For she is Jane's now – but somehow, she always has been. She has Jane now, finally, and he has her: indefinitely, completely; they have each other finally and it feels good. And yet they've been so close to this for years that despite the fact it's terrifying, there's a glorious inevitability to it all, a welcome sunset at the end of a long day's labour. They've been working towards this for years. There's not a trifle of doubt in her heart, she knows now and finally they're here; the storm weathered, the battle won, a shared future theirs for the taking. And it's going to be wonderful.

She realises Cho is still looking at her.

"I'm glad you're happy, Boss."

Lisbon smiles and registers the flicker of an upturning in his lips. She walks away to join Jane where he stands, and they watch Cho as he walks away, and begin walking towards their hired car.

"Well?" Jane asks, clearly curious about their exchange.

"I think he thinks I'm crazy."

"He said that?"

"Not in so many words."

Jane shrugs, with a laugh. "Well, he never does."

Lisbon laughs too.

There is a lightness between them, unexpected and new after the tension of the last few weeks and how they had been haunted by those beautifully terrible events and cripplingly wonderful realisations. The air feels tipsy between them. All is well, now. All is light and wonderful and happy and the world feels just a little off-kilter. Heavenly. And then Jane takes her hand and it's wonderful until they both feel the metal of his wedding ring press against her skin and they both sober at the touch. It shocks her as if it is cold, cold metal, but of course it is not, of course it is warm from the heat of his hand where it has made its home for what must be close to twenty years. And she has been here for twelve of them. But they will work through this. And she will try her very best not to rush it, for they've got all the time in the world.

She relaxes her hold on his hand, just in case the exchange has made him uncomfortable but he just holds on tighter, and even this simple act means she's fighting back tears. But whatever else is changing between them, he is still Jane and so of course he notices straight away.

"Hey," she hears, and all she feels is his thumb brushing across the back of her hand. He's looking at her, really looking at her and the love she sees in his eyes almost takes her breath away.

"Hey," she smiles, willing the tears back.

And even now she can't believe it, can't believe what has come to pass between them. These last few hours' events remind her – she can't help it, she's spent so long since thinking on it that it seems unavoidable, even now - of a time, years ago now, but a time so significant that, to this day and this moment, it hurts just a little too rawly to remember it even now. Before that last and final battle – and it had been a battle, a finale of sorts; he had expressed his deep feeling, deep something – love, she knew now – for her and her heart had soared as she'd believed him, laughing with disbelief and love on her own side as she'd thought he was confronting the this between them. He must have known then. Surely, he had known her feelings – seen the meaning behind his words reflected on her face, lit up by the dying sun of that fateful day.

But despite what he must have seen in her feelings for him, he had utterly shattered her then by leaving her there, leaving her alone with a thousand unanswered questions and that most important one which would surely break her heart. She tries to stop herself thinking of that night every time it threatens her, for there are too many heart-wrenching scenarios that might have played out and did not, and though she is thankful these did not become her reality, the fact that they might have been seems sure to overwhelm her.

And after that night he had not mentioned the conversation that had been shared, so of course she had not either. For even previous to that night on the beach he had said two words to her that no one else had heard and she had gathered her courage to raise the exchange with him. He'd brushed her question off then and she had pretended it had not hurt. That night standing alone on a beach she'd never stood on again, she had known in that moment that her heart couldn't take another unanswered question even two years later. And so once again clarity had not been begged and an unsaid cautious ambiguity of a much deeper feeling had reigned.

But now she knows. He's said his truth, and she's said hers. The words have been spoken, their truths been told, never to be taken back. His hand is enclosed in hers and it feels as if it's been there for years; and in a way, she supposes, it has.