Post ending to season 4, where Keira finally realizes that maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to let everything go. I firmly believe that if the show had been allowed to continue, and the writers didn't enjoy torturing us so darn much, Keira would have eventually made her way back to Carlos where she belonged.

It was raining. When wasn't it raining anymore? Carlos flipped the collar of his jacket over his head and smiled ruefully up at the black sky before jogging out to his car. He was glad for the rain. It gave him an excuse to cover his head and run for it instead of having to walk, remembering the hundreds of times the two of them had made this walk together.

He missed her. Partner. Friend. Whatever. Missing her was a dull ache in his gut, a quiet in his life that hadn't been there since she blew into town. He thought he'd be glad to have that back.

He was wrong.

Slipping behind the wheel, he pulled the visor down and glanced in the mirror. Spearing his hands through his hair, he briskly shook the water out, smiling at the memory of Keira yelling and laughing and slapping him with both hands the last time he'd done that. She was everywhere, he thought dryly. Shaking his head, he flicked the visor up and twisted the key in the ignition before he could give in to the automatic instinct to turn his head and smile at her in the passenger seat.

"She's not there," he reminded himself firmly, kicking the car into reverse. "She's back home where she belongs."

Funny how it didn't feel that way.

Driving down the rain swept city streets, taillights blurring in front of him while his wipers kept time with the radio, he tried to focus on what he was going to do that night. There were reports in his briefcase that needed to be read. There was a game on TV. And the sweet woman from down the hall that came in to clean once a week was threatening to quit if he didn't get around to cleaning up after himself.

Time to get back to his real life. A life that didn't include soldiers from the future and women straight out of a sci-fi novel. The life he'd lived before she came barging in.

He was happy that way, once. He could be happy again.

Pulling into his apartment, he beeped the locks and tucked his keys in his pocket. Wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't notice the dark figure curled up in his doorway until he almost tripped over it. When that pale face tipped up to his, tears streaming from her eyes and dark hair clinging to wet cheeks, he thought he was dreaming.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, the seconds ticking by while he struggled to figure out what he should say. Were you supposed to talk to your hallucinations? Then she pushed to her feet so they were eye to eye. His nose filled with the scent of her perfume, his arms moving seconds ahead of his brain to reach out and grab her. She was warm and wet and real, and tears stung the back of his eyes.

"I thought you were gone," he murmered into Keira's crown of hair, pulling her closer when she would have pulled away. "I didn't think I was ever going to see you again."

"Me either," she said softly, her voice muffled against the front of his shirt. Reluctantly he pulled back, realizing for the first time she was soaked to the skin, shivering from the cold. With a firm arm still wrapped around her, he unlocked his door and led her inside.

"You want a drink?" he called out, hustling down the hall to grab a towel, scooping up a pair of sweats out of his room as an afterthought.

She didn't answer. Walking back out, he saw her standing in his front hall, arms wrapped around herself, dripping a giant puddle on his floor she didn't seem to see. Her eyes stared vacantly around his living room, flicking from one thing to the next. Concerned, Carlos walked over and wrapped the towel around her shaking shoulders. He was relieved when she reached up to grab it and hold it on her own.

"What happened?" he asked softly, chafing her shoulders.

"We did it," she said woodenly, still staring at a spot over his shoulder. "Everything we were working for? We did it."

The words were like a punch of joy to the chest, happiness mixed with relief that he could barely hold onto. "That's awesome. Isn't it?"

Keira shrugged one shoulder restlessly, then, finally, turned her head to look him in the eye. "I saw Sam. He was…great," she said, eyes tearing up. "Laughing and happy…playing with that little soldier he gave me right before I left."

"That's great, right? That's what you were hoping for."

"It is. It is," she said forcefully. When Carlos continued to look at her, saying nothing, the dam finally broke. "I saw me," she said quietly. "Other me, that is. Playing with my son…her son…near the fountain.

"Oh Keira." Carlos pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to her head, heart breaking for her. He finally got it. She'd finally achieved everything she wanted, only to have it ripped away from her again. Keira grabbed on to his shirt and clung, shoulders shaking with the sobs ripping out of her chest.

He would have given anything in that moment to make it okay for her, but there was nothing he could do.

Nothing any of them could do.

When she finally lay quiet against him, emptied of the storm that had raged through her, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the couch, settling in with her tucked against his chest. They sat like that forever, it seemed, each lost in their own thoughts. Hers, he knew, were of Sam. His weren't so charitable. He was furious with Alec and Jason and Brad for putting her through this. They had to have known, or at least suspected, that she'd never able to go back to the life she'd left behind. They hadn't warned her.

No, they hadn't warned him, or he would have fought harder to get her to stay. But then, since when had he been able to make Keira Cameron do anything. She'd been so single minded, so absolute in her quest to get home. There was nothing he could have said that would have convinced her to change her mind.

He felt like a bastard for the joy in his gut at having her back, regardless of the circumstances. Speaking of…

"What happens now?" he asked softly, squeezing her tighter to hold on to her when she would have pulled away.

"I don't know." Her voice broke, fresh tears trickling down the bare skin of his neck. "For the past three years, Sam's been the only thing I've lived for, and now…I don't know." Pushing back so she could look at his face, she wiped the salty drops from her cheeks. He could see her pulling herself back together. "I know I don't belong there. Even if we could come up with some sort of story for explaining why I had a doppleganger walking around, it would be too hard. Too hard to see him every day and know that I can't hug him, can't tell him I love him, can't tell him who I really am. He's okay. He's going to grow up happy and free, and that's all I ever wanted for him. But I don't have any part of that anymore."

Sliding off his lap, she sat next to him on the sofa and leaned against his shoulder, letting him pull her close. "When Alec told me that this was the price of love, that I was never going to be his mother again…it broke me. I spent days in the guest suite of a hotel, staring out the window, watching the city go by. After a while, the pain started to numb, and…I missed you," she confessed, pressing her head to his shoulder and refusing to look up. "I missed all of you, so much I could barely breathe with it. I told Alec I wanted to come home, and…well, here I am." She shrugged, a wet laugh leaving her lips. "Carlos…I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I asked Alec to bring me back close to the time I left so I could apologize, before you forgot. Selfish, maybe, but when I was sitting in that hotel room thinking about everything I left behind to get where I was, the only thing I could think was how badly I wanted to apologize to you…but you were already dead, and it was too late." Tipping her head back, she met his eyes. "I never thought about you, that last day. When the station was attacked, when everything was falling, all I could think about was that Kellogg got away, and he took my chance to go home with him. When we were taking fire in the warehouse, my only thoughts were for Brad, and getting through the portal so I could go back home. It never occurred to me until it was too late and you were actually gone that I could have lost you a hundred times that day. And you were only thinking about me. Carlos, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, don't worry about it." Pulling her back into his arms he rocked her gently, pressing his lips to her head, closing his eyes at the pleasure/pain of having her in his arms. "I'm fine."

"I didn't know that. Oh god, Carlos, I didn't know that." She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, holding on for dear life.

"Hey. I'm right here. I'm fine." He was surprised at how good it felt to know she'd worried about him, even if it was after the fact. He'd be lying if he said there weren't times during their last hours together that he'd been angry with her for her indifference, furious at the way she'd pushed him away time and again like she didn't know he'd walk through hell for her. Bitter when she'd told him she'd leave their time in a heartbeat, like she didn't care about the wreckage she was going to leave behind…or the people that cared about her. Hurt and angry that she didn't realize how much he loved her, even if that love was all tangled up in duty and responsibility and friendship and loss. Then the rest of what she'd said finally sank in. She'd said she was home. "So…does this mean you're going to stay?"

He could have kicked himself the moment the words came out of his mouth, but he had to know, and relief was a sweeping wave when she nodded. "There's nothing there for me anymore, but maybe…maybe there's still good I can do here," she said softly, and he closed his eyes while emotion banged and cracked inside of him. These were things he could sort out later, after the practicalities had been dealt with. She was going to need a place to live, and it was going to take time for her to get used to living life in the now instead of tomorrow. They had time. All that mattered was that she was going to stay.