Sorry if this chapter kinda sucks…I'm not very good at writing romance, but I really wanted to end the story with it. This is the last chapter, and hopefully I'll be able to start a new story soon. I want to post a new Maltara story, but I'm making no promises. Let's just say that EMT patient reports are awful, even of they're only for practice.

Anyways, review replies:

maltararox21: Thanks, that really means a lot :)

Maltara101: Thanks so much :)

BreezyFan: Thanks! :)

mozzi-girl: Thanks! :)

In the following months I knew of two funerals that took place. I attended one of these, because I belonged there. I was meant to be amongst the black-clad mourners; the crying relatives. I was supposed to stand there and think of what almost was, because that's normal. It's what I'm supposed to do.

The second, taking place about two weeks after Oscar's death, I had no right to go to. It wasn't my place, even if I knew about it. I did not belong there. It would not be normal. It wasn't what I was supposed to do.

A few more months have passed since both of those fateful dates. In fact, the air is already tinted with winter. I am better. Different. The world did not end after the case was finished. Saying that there still aren't times when I still ask myself why all of that happened, and what I would be doing now if it hadn't, would be a lie. But I try not to dwell on it. It's not healthy.

I'm alone now. I don't like it, but at least I'm in a better state than I was before. I don't think I would be able to stand it if I was alone on Christmas before I started to gain a new perspective; which I got not long ago.

There was one day, about two weeks after Oscars funeral, where everything changed. I smiled. I don't remember why, Mal probably said something funny, and the next thing I knew I had the almost alien expression on my face. And then I knew that life wasn't over. That I don't have to always be asking why. That I'm still allowed to live.

That was the turning point, to say the least. It's not a very good word, but it's all I have. After all, we all want a story. In our lives we expect an antagonist, rising action and resolution. And when we don't have those things, we almost lose our road maps. We get lost.

But I'm not lost. At least, not anymore. The time's where I wore my grief on my sleeve, when Mal would look at me with his deep blue eyes like he wanted to say something before quickly looking away, when I kept looking at my phone expecting a call from Oscar; they're gone. And hopefully, they're gone forever. Because I never want to go back there. Not again.

My phone rings and I take a minute to search for it on the coffee table, muting the Tv that had been quietly playing some sort of Christmas special that I hadn't really been paying attention to. I smile as I see the caller ID.

"Mal?".

"Hey". There's a long pause. "I'm guessing your family couldn't make it for Christmas then?".

"Their flight still being delayed because of storms". Another long pause.

"No point in us both being alone one Christmas. I couldn't get out to my sister either. Wanna go somewhere?".

"Christmas dinner at a restaurant?" I say. "Really?".

"Got any better ideas?".

I don't answer right away. My eyes drift to the muted Tv, then to the foggy window. "I guess not".

"Want me to pick you up in ten?".

"Sure, thanks. Bye".

"Bye".

By the time we get to the restaurant, I'm already glad I said yes.

We go to the same place Mal took me the first time we had dinner together. Since it's late, much later than most people eat dinner, the place is open and fairly empty. And the whole time, I can't help but marvel at just how normal everything is; and at the same time how extraordinary. For some reason, I had the idea in my head that I would never be the same after all of this. That those "average" days were over. But here I am, right now, having an average conversation with my best friend. And I wouldn't trade this moment for the world.

After dinner we step out onto the back porch, just like the first time we came here. And for a moment I forget. I forget that I've been in San Francisco for over two years. I forget everything that's happened during all that time, and for just a second it's almost like that first day with Mal.

A sudden wind sends shivers down my spine, and I pull my coat closer to me. "We can go back inside if you want" Mal says.

"No. I want to stay" I answer, not taking my eyes off the gentle waves of the water only a mere twenty feet in front of us. The truth is that I want to stay here, not to pretend that this never happened, but to remember the good times I've had. And then maybe, just maybe, I can let the bad float away.

"I remember when you first came here" Mal says, imitating me and leaning against the railing. "And I had to convince you to go against the rules for the first time".

"You didn't convince me. I agreed".

"After I convinced you".

I shoot him an annoyed glance, only to find him imitating it playfully. We stay like that for a moment, until both of us crack up and laugh. Mal starts to say something, but for some reason I find myself unable to listen and I just look. I have one of those moments when I can't focus on someone's words, and become fascinated by the way they look and talk. I never really payed attention before; but now I notice how he stands his ground as he talks. He doesn't shift his weight from side to side, like many people do. He always has a slight grin on his face, even while he talks, which is difficult for most people. But he does it with ease, without even thinking about it, like he's been doing so his whole life. When I think about it though, it's probably not far from the truth; it doesn't take much to get a smile out of him.

He puts him arm down on the railing, his hand awkwardly resting on mine. The ring I had worn for all that time is gone, as is the faint tan line that it had already formed.

I'm suddenly aware that he's close now, too close. Close enough that I can see his eyelashes, which is a good indication that it's time to back away. But I don't want to, despite the fact that my brain is screaming at me to back away.

I can't do this! No! Stop!

I don't know which one of us is getting closer. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's both of us. Either way, neither of us is backing away. And before I know is, his mouth is on mine. The lips that I've seen smile and frown over those two years, the lips that I never noticed before today. And the protests in my head have stop entirely, turning into acceptance.

Yes. I can so this. Yes. Yes. Yes.