A/N: This story was written at the behest of RussellHolmes, who very much wanted to see a little more of Logan's reaction to Carolyn changing her name. Hopefully I did an okay job with it.

A/N2: Thank you very much to rindy713 for the excellent suggestions!

Logan POV

I was in a state of euphoria.

And it was fairly disturbing.

I didn't do happy.

My life didn't get this good.

Alex had tried to tell me that I deserved it and that I should quit waiting for the other shoe, but that was exactly what I was doing.

Because I knew, without a doubt, that some major catastrophe was about to occur.

Something that would make Carolyn change her mind.

Because why in the world would she want to be Mrs. Logan?

And yeah, she technically was already.

But as much as I'd hoped for it to happen, I never honestly believed that she'd want to take my name.

And it was such a simple thing…something about which I'd bet most men didn't give more than a passing thought.

But I'm not most men.

"I can't decide if that expression on your face is happy or perplexed," Carolyn remarked as I unlocked our front door.

We'd spent the evening with Bobby and Alex at McNally's, commemorating the end of their career with the NYPD and the beginning of our relationship as business partners.

We'd also signed on for our first case as a foursome. In the morning, we were heading to Chicago to help out former Manhattan ADA Ron Carver.

Personally, I had no use for the man, but Jimmy Deakins had asked, so we'd unanimously agreed.

"I can't decide either," I admitted as we went inside.

"Is it Rhonda?"

"What? No," I said quickly. "Not at all. I mean, yeah, she was bugging me earlier today, but…no."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm wondering if maybe I'm pushing my luck," I said honestly.

She stopped in the living room and turned to look at me, her head tilted to one side as she carefully studied me.

"How so?"

"This," I said, shaking my head and looking around the room. "All of this."

"This house?"

"The house…our friends…you…I'm thinking maybe it's too much."

"Mike," she began as she came to stand in front of me. "You don't believe that."

"You know what I come from," I said quietly. "I've told you about my past. About my mother. My priest. I should be dead right now. Or at the very least, in prison. So how can I justify in my mind that I deserve any of this, much less all of it?"

She didn't respond right away, but instead wrapped her arms around me and held me close.

I hated myself for taking such a joyous occasion and turning it into…whatever this was, but I also had to be honest with her about my feelings. I might not be able to give her everything, but I could at least give her the truth.

"Who deserves it more than you?" she asked. She kept her cheek pressed against my chest, her hands idly rubbing over my back.

"You want me to make a list?"

"I'm saying that you worked hard to get here. Nothing was handed to you. If anyone ever had an excuse to go into a life of crime, it's you. You could've turned to drugs, but you didn't. You could've sought revenge against your mom, but you didn't. You could've killed your priest. Hell, I would have done it myself if I'd known you back then. But you didn't do any of those things. Instead you became a cop so that you could take the bad guys off the streets. And you live an honest life. What could possibly make you think that you don't belong here?"

The sincerity of her words brought tears to my eyes and I tightened my arms around her even more.

"Seventeen years of being called worthless tends to stick with a guy."

"Well, I'll just have to keep correcting you until we fix that misconception, won't I?"

"Are you so sure that you're right?"

"Would I be here if I wasn't? I was doing perfectly fine in life on my own. I'm not the type who needs to be married. Hell, I didn't even want to be married. You know that. And if I'd never met you, I still wouldn't be. But I did meet you. And you're this great guy with such a kind soul and deep emotion and a tremendously loving personality."

"And scars the size of Texas," I added.

"We all have them. Some are just bigger than others. It doesn't make you less. It makes you more. You didn't just survive your childhood. You kicked it in the ass. And I can't tell you how proud it makes me to be Carolyn Logan. I never thought it mattered, to either of us. And then when I saw how much it meant to you, I made up my mind then and there to make the change. But honestly, on a personal level, I still didn't think it was a big deal, but I was wrong. It is a big deal, and I wish I'd thought to do it sooner."

"But you're Mrs. Logan. The only other one of those I've ever known was my mother."

She pulled back to look at me and I saw a hint of a smile on her face.

"So you met the worst. And now you have the best."

"That is true," I agreed as I started to relax. "You are the best."

"And I'm yours. I'll get it tattooed across my ass if you want me to."

"Property of Mike Logan?" I teased.

"Sure," she agreed. "In big, bold letters. Or I could just put my name. Carolyn Logan."

"It would be there forever," I reminded her.

"I have no problem with that. Do you?"

I leaned my forehead against hers and let out a sigh.

"I'm ruining the night. I'm sorry. I don't know why I get so paranoid when good things happen."

"You're just not used to it. We need to get you used to it."

"We've been together for a year. You'd think I would be by now."

"You'll get there. This past year we've had bad things happen. But it's different now, because it's not just you anymore. When things happen, they happen to us. And it's a lot tougher for any one thing to bring both of us down, don't you think?"

"I can't imagine anything strong enough to take you down."

"We all have our demons, Mike. Don't give me too much credit."

"You're perfect," I argued as I brought my lips to hers.

I kissed her slowly, letting the passion build at a leisurely pace. Or at least that was my intent. But she gets me too worked up. I want her too much. I was instantly hard and I couldn't keep from pulling her flush against me, desperately needing to feel her body against mine.

"I'm not…" she began when I moved from her mouth down the side of her neck.

"Don't argue," I whispered as I pushed the collar of her blouse out of my way. "To me, you are. To me, you're everything."

She moved her hand between us and firmly ran it over me. I closed my eyes to fight off the nearly dizzying sensation, but then went about leaving my mark on her neck.

I couldn't help myself.

I wanted her branded as mine.

"Let's go in the kitchen," she said. "I bought something."

"I'm not done."

"You don't have to be," she said with a smile. "In fact, I'm really hoping that you're not."

"I left a bit of a…" I said, trailing off as I ran my fingers over the dark spot on her neck.

"You meant to do that," she said knowingly as she took my hand in hers and led the way into the kitchen.

"Uh huh," I agreed unapologetically.

"I could just get that tattoo."

"But no one would see it."

"You want me to get it on my forehead instead of my ass?"

"Now there's an idea," I teased. I stopped in the middle of the kitchen when she let go of my hand and opened the refrigerator. "What did you buy?"

"Champagne," she said as she pulled a bottle from the fridge.

"Perrier-Jouët?" I said in surprise. "Wow, you don't halfway do anything, do you?"

"This is a special occasion," she replied. She set the bottle on the counter to open it, but I took over the task. "It's not every day that I change my name. In fact, it's a once in a lifetime occurrence."

"And I almost blew the whole thing," I said with a roll of my eyes. I popped the cork and then filled the two glasses that she held out to me.

"You didn't blow anything," she promised. "I just wanted you to know how much this all means to me. I know I don't always show my emotions. And I've been so independent for so long that maybe I don't always…I don't know. I don't think about how important the little things can be. But the little things are important.

"And it's not always you who sometimes feels overwhelmed by our life. Sometimes I think about mistakes I've made and…I think that maybe I need to go back to church so that I can properly thank someone for helping me find my way to you. But then I think that I don't need to go to church to say thank you. Because it's you. I'm thankful to you. For giving me a chance after I acted so childishly, and for being patient with my boundaries. I know sometimes I seem cold or unfeeling, but…I'm not. And I want you to know how much I really, really love you and how happy I am that we're together."

I was blown away by her words, struck speechless by her openness. It wasn't something that came easy with her, and I just watched her as she put her glass to her lips and took a drink.

I noticed that her hand was shaking.

This was a big deal for her.

She was the last in her family. She was the last Barek, only now she'd agreed to become Logan.

How could I have overlooked that fact?

I'd been selfishly caught up in my own desire to stake my claim.

I continued to watch her as she drained the champagne from her glass and I was unable to resist kissing her as soon as she pulled the glass away.

The sweet taste of the French wine on her lips was tantalizing and I blindly took the glass from her hand so that I could set it on the counter behind us as I continued to work my mouth over hers.

But despite my sudden, increased need for her, I couldn't let the moment get away.

I forced myself to take a step back.

But not too far.

I kept my hands on the countertop, one on either side of her, and brought my forehead down to hers.

"Maybe you should keep your name," I said quietly.

"What? Why?"

"Because you're the last one. I shouldn't take that away from you."

"You're not taking anything away from me. It was my decision."

"Because I kept asking you," I stated. I pulled back fractionally so that I could look into her eyes. "Trust me, sweetheart. You being married to me is enough."

"It's too late."

"It's not too late."

"Mike, I've made up my mind and I'm happy with the decision," she said with a hint of a smile. "So why don't you quit arguing with me about it? I'd much rather commemorate the moment some other way."

"But…" I began, but then I trailed off. She did seem happy. And she'd bought champagne. Expensive champagne that was still largely untouched. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she replied. She reached back and picked up the champagne, this time taking a drink straight from the bottle. When she finished, she handed it to me.

"I'm not having kids," she continued. "I'm the last one no matter what my name is. So are you. So why not be last together?"

"Interesting spin," I said with a slow grin.

She always had a way of making things okay.

Better than okay.

No matter how fast my moods spiraled out of control, she was right there to help me find solid ground.

I'd never imagined that I would ever feel this way about any person, ever.

"Not a spin," she said as she ran her hand down my chest and grabbed onto my belt. "Just the truth."

And then, because I liked tasting the wine from her lips more so than from the bottle, I set down the bottle and kissed her again.

This time, I didn't hold back.

I felt that sense of euphoria creeping in again and I wondered how I'd lost it to begin with.

I'd been so ecstatic when I'd first looked at that business card with her new name embossed on the front, and then suddenly I'd let my old demons rear their ugly heads and try to suck the happiness from my life.

I had to stop letting that happen.

I had to let myself be happy.

And this was a good place to start.

THE END

A/N: For those who don't feel like looking it up, L'ultimo means "the last one" in Italian.