The sun had just begun to peek over the treetops when Nick made his way to Homicide. After six months he thought it would feel less like coming home, stepping off the lift and facing that familiar set of desks, seeing Jen and Duncan and Rhys bowed over their keyboards, yawning and pecking out the last of their reports one letter at time. He'd been wrong on that score; he missed this place, still. Missed the work, missed his friends, but leaving had been the right call, professionally and personally, and he knew it. Things were different now, but they were better, too, and as he marched towards Jen's desk he tried to tell himself that maybe one day he'd come back here. It would have been foolish to follow in Matt's footsteps after seeing firsthand how disastrous it could be, handing a new-made Sergeant his own friends as subordinates. But maybe in a year, or two, he could come back to Homicide, could command his own team. That would be nice.

At the moment, however, he faced a dilemma. He had told Jen he'd come to fetch her after an hour, and an hour had passed, his report was finished, and his heart was aching for her. What he hadn't taken into account was the presence of their friends. Of necessity no one knew what had transpired between them, and he understood Jen well enough to know that she would want to continue to keep their relationship - if that's what it was - private, at least until they'd figured things out between them. He'd need to play this very carefully to avoid arousing suspicion.

"Oi, Freeman," he said, making his way over to Duncan's desk instead. Jen looked up at the sound of his voice, and though her eyes settled on his back Nick did not return her curious glance. He didn't need to; as he spoke to Duncan he could see her out of the corner of his eye, and she was already beginning to pack up her things. She knew exactly what he'd done, and she fell in step with him beautifully. The way she always did.

"All right, Sarge?" Duncan said, grinning. They were all exhausted, running on fumes, but the case had ended well, and they were happy.

"I'm knackered," Nick said. "But I promised you a drink. Friday sound good?"

Duncan leaned back in his chair, and Jen rose from her own, nearly finished now.

"Yeah, all right," he said easily.

"I like drinks, too, you know," Rhys piped up from his own desk.

"I bet you do," Nick told him, grinning. "You and Allie are welcome, too. And you, Jen, if you like."

At last he looked at her, found her standing by her desk with her bag slung over her shoulder. She looked as tired as he felt, but when he caught her eye she smiled, and his heart was lighter for it. Jen wasn't hiding from him, any more. In just a minute they would leave this place, together, and they would say all the things they should have said six months ago, and Nick could think of nothing better.

"Your shout, Sarge?" she asked, her eyebrow lifted in a teasing sort of way.

"Yeah, all right, I'll buy the first round," he answered.

"I'll be there."

And she would, he knew. He could see the certainty in her eyes, and when he cast his thoughts back over every word they'd spoken to one another in the last twenty-four hours he found all the reassurance that he needed. Jen wasn't running from him, any more.

"Me, too," Rhys said. "I'll drag Allie along."

"See you Friday, then," Nick said.

Duncan and Rhys chorused their goodbyes in unison, and as Nick turned and began to walk away from them Jen fell into step beside him. It was easy, the way she went with him, the way her graceful legs kept pace with his much longer ones, the way they both knew exactly where they were going.

"You leaving, Jen?" Duncan called out.

Jen never slowed. "I'm bushed," she said. "I'll see you Monday."

And that was that. Neither Duncan nor Rhys questioned her decision to leave, and if either of them thought it strange that she should choose to leave with Nick, they kept their thoughts to themselves. Nick was almost certain that Duncan, at least, must have sensed something was up, but Duncan was a mate, and he didn't take the chance to rib them, for which Nick was very grateful. A part of him hoped that when next he saw his friends he could take Jen's hand, and tell them all the truth. It was well past time, he thought.

They stepped into the lift together, and as the doors slid closed they both breathed a sigh of relief. There was so much for them to say, but now was not the time; they would wait until they were free of the station, until they were properly alone, and then...well. Then everything would change. For now, just for this moment, Nick stood beside her, his arm brushing against her shoulder, and smiled when she did not pull away. It was enough, for now.

As much as Jen longed to talk to him, to spill out her heart to him, she really was exhausted, and as Nick drove along she slumped against the window, nearly asleep. She did not watch the buildings passing them by, did not take notice of where he was going. His house or hers, it made no difference to her now. She just wanted to be with him. They were quiet, together, but it wasn't a tense, anxious sort of quiet. Hope seemed to hang in the air between them, a tenuous bubble of joy she was loath to burst.

The car lumbered to a stop and Jen jolted awake, looking around in confusion. They weren't in front of her house, nor his for that matter; Nick had driven them to a secluded alleyway between two buildings, and as he put the car in park he stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back against the seat.

"Nick?" she asked softly.

"We need to talk, Jen," he answered. "I'm tired of making assumptions and being wrong. I don't know what you want and I don't think this is a conversation we need to have at home. So," he gestured vaguely to the alleyway. "Neutral ground."

One of the things Jen loved best about Nick was his natural sense of consideration. It would have been presumptuous of him to take her to his house, when he didn't know what she wanted and they both knew Juliet had been there only the night before. And no doubt he thought it would have been inappropriate for him to drive her home, and then invite himself inside, to put that kind of pressure on them both. He had done this thing to show his regard for her, had brought them here so that she could decide for herself where they might go next. It had always been like that, with Nick; he deferred to her, always, made his own wants plain but waited for her before making a move. Jen couldn't recall having ever been with anyone who was half the gentleman Nick was.

"All right, then," she said.

They both unbuckled their seatbelts, tried to find a more comfortable position. He turned his head where it rested against the seatback, watching her, and Jen realized then that he was waiting for her, once again, that he wanted to hear her speak before he said anything himself. That threw her off balance; she had been expecting him to be the one to make a grand declaration, to explain that he didn't want anyone else, that Juliet didn't matter, that he was ready if she was. Maybe he felt it didn't need saying. Maybe it didn't, but Jen still would have liked to hear it, anyway.

What did he want her to say? She wondered as she looked at him. Hadn't she made her feelings plain when she told him she'd driven to his house the night before? Wasn't that enough?

That's how we got here in the first place, she told herself. They had left so much unsaid, before, and the silence had torn them apart. No more waiting, she thought. No more second guessing. What would she have said, if Juliet hadn't been there, if he'd opened his door to her in the dead of night and invited her in? How would she explain herself?

"I love you," she said.

Nick's eyes widened, his expression softening as he watched her. He hadn't been expecting that, she could see it now, and she smiled, relieved at having finally spoken the words she'd kept to herself so long. Love, that was the beginning and the end of everything between them, wasn't it? That was all that mattered, really. The rest of it was just noise.

"When I...ended things, before," she continued haltingly, "it wasn't because I didn't love you. It was because I did, and that scared me."

"Jen-"

"Please, just let me say it."

He fell silent, closed his mouth and gave her a little nod, promised her he'd keep quiet until she'd spoken her piece. He really was the most beautiful man, she thought as she looked at him, not just because he was tall and strong, not just because he had a handsome face and thick hair she loved to run her fingers through, but because he saw her, because he listened to her, because his heart was good, and kind, and true. There could never be anyone else for her; she knew it now, and she'd known it for years.

"I was afraid we'd get caught, and one of us would have to leave. I was tired of lying to our friends." She'd told him all of that before, of course, but there was more left to say, and so she carried on. "And you offered to transfer, and that scared me, too. We've always worked together, Nick. Even when we were Trish and Wesley, that was work. I was afraid that if we didn't have work to keep us together everything else would fall apart. I was afraid you'd resent me for making you leave. I was afraid you'd realize you didn't want me, and you'd regret giving up your career for me."

His dark eyes watched her, calm and thoughtful; he wanted to contradict her, she could see that in his face, but he didn't, just let her talk because she'd asked him to, and she loved him for it, the way he listened to her so completely.

"But then you left anyway. I didn't realize...I thought you were like me. I thought you loved the job and that it was what you wanted but when you left I realized that the job wasn't the most important thing to you."

"It never was," he agreed quietly. Such simple words, but he said them with such heat, and in those words she heard everything else he did not say. It was Jen that mattered most to him, she could see that now; Homicide didn't mean anything to him, if she wasn't with him. His actions had proven that.

"And I've had all this time to think," she forced herself to say. "I had the job. I had the career I'd always wanted and I was living my own life, but I realized last night that it wasn't enough. I could have - we could have - so much more. And I'm sorry I took that away from us."

"You needed time," Nick told her softly. How could it be, she wondered, that after everything he could still be so understanding? How could he accept her flimsy excuses, and not hate her for all the grief she'd brought to them both?

"I've had enough time," she answered. "I know what I want, Nick. I want you."

He smiled and reached for her hand, laced their fingers together and brought the bundle of their hands to rest against the solid muscle of his thigh.

"This is home," she said, gesturing between them with her free hand. "You and me, together, this is our home and I've never really had one of those before and it scared me. I didn't realize how badly I could want it, or how much I'd miss it. But being without you, Nick, it...isn't good enough, for me. I want us. For as long as we can, as long as you'll have me, I want us. And I know you were right, before. I made the choices. I didn't let us do that together. But I want that, now. If we still can. If it's not too late."

Tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes, not because she thought it was too late, not because she was heartbroken, but because as she spoke Nick looked at her like she was the only woman in the entire world, like every word she'd said was already written on his own heart, and because she knew before he even said a word that he felt exactly the same way.

"For the last five years," he said, "I think all I've been trying to do is get back home to you."

A ragged, choking sob escaped her, and Nick reached for her at once, pulled her bodily out of her seat; Jen moved with him, settled herself upon his lap and buried her face in the crook of his neck, his strong arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. No one else would ever understand, she thought, what had passed between them during the year that they were married. Without the distractions of the outside world, entirely dependent on one another, they had drawn as close as two souls could ever hope to be. The rightness of it, the warmth of him at her back as she slept, the comfort of his smile beside her, the simple domesticity of sharing a home and a bed and a life, it had been quite the most beautiful experience of her entire life - apart from the constant threat of danger. And when he'd come back to her, when they'd fallen in with each other once more, they'd tasted it again. It had scared Jen, at the time, the thought that now they could be properly married, if they wished, no expiration date in sight, just the two of them, forever. Before, forever had seemed like a burden too heavy to bear, but now it seemed like a promise she'd do anything to keep.