Jean rushed to the hospital, mind racing, heart in her throat. Lawson had been the one to call her. She hadn't heard anything beyond, "Lucien stabbed…in ambulance…county hospital…"

She had dropped the phone with a clatter and stool stock-still in the kitchen, legs like lead and shaking all over. Not again, not again, please.

Matthew's shouts of Jean through the receiver finally brought her back and she picked the phone up with shaky hands, telling him she'd be there soon. "And Matthew? Please tell him I'm coming. Don't let him, don't let him–" Her voice broke off in a sob.

But Matthew understood. "He'll be here waiting for you, Jean. Just get here."

She didn't remember grabbing her purse or the car keys. Nor did she remember flying through stop signs and street lights. She couldn't stop for red lights, not when Lucien was hurt.

And now she was here, in the stingingly anti-septic hospital, searching for him, heart in her throat, and desperate. She spotted Lawson at the end of the hallway and, propriety be damned, she ran to him, nearly collapsing in his arms.

She was barely holding it together, everything felt so raw and frayed. "Matthew! Is he, is he–" She let out a sob and Matthew pulled her into a hug.

"He's fine, Jean, he's fine. The doctor just finished with him. He's gonna stay overnight, but he's going to be fine." Jean buried her head against his shoulder and sobbed in relief.

Matthew pulled away from her and brushed the tears from her face. "Hey now, no more of that. The lunatic is going to be fine. And," he added with a grin. "He's been asking for you nonstop."

Jean gaped at him. "He's awake?! Matthew Lawson, you tell me where he is right now."

The superintendent stepped aside and gestured to the room behind him. With shaking hands, Jean pushed the door open and her heart stopped at what she saw. There, sitting up in the hospital cot, was Lucien. He was shirtless with a thick, white bandage wrapped over and over around his chest and abdomen.

She covered her mouth with her hand and breathed out, "Lucien…"

His eyes snapped open at her voice and he struggled to try and get out of bed, to go to her. But Jean was already in front of him, sitting on the bed and wrapping her arms around him, holding him close.

The tears she had previously had control over spilled back over, splashing over the skin of his shoulders. Lucien buried his fingers in her hair, ignoring the stab of pain the movement caused, and pulled her closer, murmuring her name over and over again.

"I'm alright, Jean. I'm alright. I'm here, I'm here." He cooed at her, stroking her hair. Jean pressed a kiss to his shoulder and breathed him in–still warm, still alive beneath her.

She pulled away, taking his face between her hands, thumbs rubbing at his beard. "I thought I lost you."

Lucien smiled at her, his own eyes watery. "Never, love. I'm not leaving you behind. Our story is long from over."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, savoring the warmth of his touch. Gathering herself once more, she leaned back and began fussing over him, instructing him to lay back. But she never stopped touching him, not once. The threat of losing him was still too close to the surface.

Lucien watched her fuss over him and knew she was keeping busy to calm her nerves. He grasped her arm, stilling her motions. "Jean…"

Her face crumpled and she sat back down on the bed, curling herself around him and allowing him to hold her close. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head and inhaled the scent of her. No matter what he may have told her, there was a brief moment when he was lying on that floor, bleeding heavily, that he thought he may not see her again.

And there were things he still hadn't done, hadn't said, that he could do now.

Tightening his hold on her, he spoke into the silence of the room. "Jean, love, when I was hurt today, I thought a lot about the things in my life I hadn't done yet. I thought about you and the life we haven't started yet. And most importantly, I thought about all the things I haven't said yet."

He took a deep breath. Jean had started rubbing her fingers over the thick bandages of his chest, listening quietly.

"Jean, I love you."

She turned her head into his chest and pressed a kiss to his bandaged chest. "Oh Lucien." She propped herself up and looked at him. "I love you, too. So much."

Then, surprising him, she smacked his arm. He winced. "But don't you ever, ever scare me like this again. No more confronting murder suspects alone, do you hear me? I mean it, Lucien."

He smiled, tugging her back down to his chest, thinking having her this close was worth the pain in his side. "For you, my love, anything."