Shane's Third Self-Termination

By Felicia Ferguson

Author's Note: And we've reached Shane's final attempt at self-termination from the DLO. But given the motivation and impetus really spans most of From Paris With Love, I give you a two-part, fill-in-the-gaps story.

Further note: When it comes to Shane and Oliver or really any other couple I've 'shipped, I will ache. I will moan. I will sigh. But I'm not a crier, and I teared up as I wrote this. So, forewarning, the angst level is strong in this one. But at least we know there's a happy ending and Spring is coming.

As always, none of the characters nor conversation you recognize are mine. They belong to the brilliant mind of Martha Williamson. Enjoy!

Part One

Despite the frigid Denver temperatures, Shane burst through the roof exit desperate for distance from them, from him, even as she clutched the battered envelope in her trembling fingers. She slowed as the bracing cold hit her skin, but she couldn't stall her whirling thoughts. Couldn't keep them from returning to that night in the DLO when they'd danced together, their steps, their hand clasps, their joined breaths binding them together in one gossamer moment of promise.

She was completely, irrevocably, hopelessly in love with Oliver O'Toole. And yet, that Oliver O'Toole was still married to the intended recipient of the letter in her hand. The absent, and yet seemingly always present, Holly O'Toole.

Shane stared at the envelope again. The three forty-nine cent stamps. The barely legible H and O. The pale blue envelope itself. There was no question. It was the letter Oliver wrote to Holly in the bank vault. The same letter Shane had discovered in his desk when she was looking for tweezers. The same letter Oliver had tucked in his suit pocket next to his heart in the hospital lobby.

For all of Oliver's talk of hope at Christmas and the allusion that Shane was his future, Holly still stood between them. Her absence and his commitment making her immovable in his life. So where did that leave her? Leave them?

Shane shivered as the icy wind picked through her purple jacket with chilling ease. She had to return indoors, and especially to the DLO. There was no avoiding the work or Oliver.

She stepped back into the main branch, teeth chattering, fingers tingling, and toes more than a little frozen. Her boot heels clicked hard against the concrete floor, a poor effort to return sensation to the nether regions. Letter still clutched in her hand, she bit her lip. What do I do now?

Her mind returned to the look in his eyes as he'd helped her remove her coat that morning. The awareness, the longing, the wondering. Over the past few months they actually had made progress toward each other. Little looks, tentative touches, even quiet conversations. Giving him the letter could ruin all of that and return them to the professional distance of supervisor and employee.

Could she really risk that?

Shane slowed and nodded to Hazel as she passed by carrying a box of letters to be sorted for delivery. But what if the letter was actually his way of telling Holly goodbye? Maybe that's why he'd allowed himself the luxury of tip-toeing into Shane's waters. And if it was goodbye, then Oliver would still be living in the limbo of his commitment, wanting to be released from their marriage and yet still tethered to it. The only missing piece was Holly's reply.

It had to be a goodbye letter. Shane had been with him as he'd written it. Savored their gentle flirting over her word association game as he'd penned the words. She'd watched his eyes soften as he read Jonathan's words to Katherine and caught his tentative, yet hopeful gaze when they would rest on her.

He wanted to love her.

And even though she later questioned if he was scared of mailing the letter, she knew his greatest fear wasn't that at all. It was what came next. But in the end, nothing had come next. Because Holly hadn't received the letter.

But what if it wasn't goodbye?

No, it had to be.

The only way to know anything for certain, however, was to open it. She cringed at the thought. She had promised, albeit half-heartedly and under duress, to never open another letter without his express permission. She couldn't go back on her word.

Shane paused outside the back doors to the DLO, catching bits and pieces of the conversation behind them. Something about jewelry shops. Then Oliver asking Rita something.

Rita.

Surely his edict didn't apply to Ms. Special Delivery 2014, did it? But was she splitting hairs? Shane's eyes narrowed as a plan began to take shape, and she slipped inside the doors.

Shane sat at the bar in the Mailbox Grille her desperation coffee cooling in front of her and Rita perched uncertainly on the barstool beside her. Her fingers absently refolded the letter, staring back into the past as Oliver's words stabbed at her from the stationary. It wasn't a goodbye letter after all.

"He wanted her back." The words slipped from her lips soaked with disbelief and heartbreak. He had written of his faithful commitment to Holly even as he had looked at her with such gentle longing.

Had he lied to her? No, Oliver was the poster boy of good intent. He couldn't have lied. So, she must have misread his gaze, his attention. She must have been completely and utterly wrong.

How could she not have known? Had she simply allowed her romantic heart to run headlong into love paying no heed to the signs that must have been there?

Rita shifted beside her, taking the letter from Shane's lax grip. "You think? 'Cause I'm not sure that's really what he says."

Rita's sweet voice cut through Shane's questions reminding her where they sat and the people who surrounded them. Shane shoved her devastation aside, grabbed the letter, and stuffed it back in the envelope. She took in a deep breath and forced her lips to curve into some semblance of smile. There was nothing else to do but send it again. If Oliver really did want Holly back, then Shane loved him enough to let him go.

Chugging her desperation coffee, Shane blinked hard squelching the tears that blurred her vision. Get it together. You lost. She won. It's time to let them move on. Together.

Grabbing her purse, she dropped cash on the counter and tugged on her coat. "Come on. Let's go."

Shane could feel Rita's uncertain gaze as they hurried to the DLO, but thankfully she said nothing. By the time they reached the double doors, Shane had cobbled together some amount of professional decorum, bracing herself to face Oliver with his now opened and read letter tucked in her purse. She heaved a sigh of relief as the double doors opened to an empty room. He and Norman must still be on the jewelry store hunt.

She pulled the envelope out of her purse and offered it to Rita, lifting her brows to prompt her to her duties of dead letter redirection. Rita adjusted her glasses and sighed then dug out the usual clear fronted package and slid the envelope inside.

Shane clicked open her browser and once again found Holly's address. Yep. Still in Paris. Still in the fourth arrondissement. Still absent. But still present. "Well," she sighed. "She's still living in Paris. The address label is printing out now."

"Are you sure you want to mail this?"

No. But it's not my decision to make.

Shane sat curled up on her couch, jazz dripping from her Bluetooth speakers, and sipped her red wine. Dinner had been a half loaf of French bread dipped in melted Ghirardelli squares, an odd, yet ironic, nod to Paris while satisfying her need for the comfort of carbs and chocolate. Her thoughts once again returned to Oliver, Holly, and their misdirected letter.

Norman had mailed it. Not Oliver.

And not only that, Oliver still didn't know it had come back. Or that she had read it. Would Oliver have chosen to mail it if given the option? What if he hadn't? What if her heart had been right? What if the signs it read and everything he said to her at Christmas really were true?

That he really was now ready to move forward? Then the letter Norman mailed would have been written by a different Oliver.

Maybe if he'd seen it, he would have decided to change its wording, asking to be freed from his commitment rather than being open to Holly's decision. But Shane would never know. Because Norman had mailed it. Overnight express. After years of silence, Holly would receive it tomorrow.

Maybe this could be for the best. Since Holly had been gone for so long it was highly likely she didn't want to continue the marriage even though Oliver was open to it. Maybe her response would be divorce papers?

Surely, that's what'll happen. I mean why would she hold on to something she obviously doesn't value? Certain she was right, Shane drained her wine glass, turned off the music, and headed to bed. They would find out soon enough.

Maybe.

Shane relished the easy conversation with Oliver about spring and robins and porch swings as the complimentary coffee warmed her cold-stiffened fingers. He could be so easy to talk with, to share details of her life she'd never shared with anyone else. But she glanced away as his gaze warmed with admiration and possibly even more. No, she couldn't allow herself to misread his friendship again. That was done. They were just friends.

They watched as Ramon stole the giant golden scissors from Norman, and guilt flickered through her. They were friends. And withholding the truth of his letter to Holly tainted their open and honest conversation. He needed to know what happened. But telling him would surely destroy the tender moment they'd shared.

Shane took a deep breath and searched for words, pulling them together and lacing them with sincere apology. But try as she might, even accepting full blame for her actions and reassuring him of her care, there was no softening this blow. And possibly no recovering from it.

When they finally arrived at Donatello's after twenty minutes of silence, her question about forgiveness went unanswered. Then Oliver introduced himself to Joey, making no mention of her even though she stood beside him. Even though every previous introduction during these deliveries included words like colleague, Ms. Shane McInerney, or even simply and this is Ms. McInerney. Now, she was nothing. Shane forced herself to overlook the omission. He was still processing, still hurting. He would forgive her in time. He always did.

"Actually, it's now the property of the Post Office. I can see its delivery may cause some distress, but my hands are tied here."

Wait, did those words just come out of Oliver's mouth? Shane rolled her eyes. She covered well, smoothing over his words with sympathy. But her ire grew. Minutes later, Shane stalked out of Donatello's and down the sidewalk her pulse and temper rising. "You know, you're a lot of things, Oliver O'Toole," she bit out, her words as sharp as knives and just as lethal. "Opinionated, a perfectionist, basically a human antique, but I've never figured you for a hypocrite."

Confusion wrinkled Oliver's brow and worried his words. "I beg your pardon?"

She swung around, temper in full bloom. Had she really thought she'd known him all this time? "You stood right there and refused to let that man decide what to do with those old divorce papers. But less than an hour ago you wanted that same chance to decide what to do with your letter…to Holly." She spat out Holly's name with all the unfairness and loathing she'd come associate with Oliver's absent wife.

Hurt warred with disappointment and anger in Oliver's gaze. His words tumbled over themselves. "My letter should have been processed and mailed and treated the same as any other dead letter."

Shane snorted and looked away, unable to stomach his answer in the face of the facts. "Yeah, right."

"My quarrel with you is that you broke your promise to me."

Oliver's hurt-filled objection snagged her attention. Turning her gaze back to him, she watched as his own anger bubbled underneath his pained disappointment.

"You opened that envelope on the pretext of locating an ID when in fact it was to once again. . . satisfy your. . .curiosity."

Fury raged through her like a forest fire. He was not going to blame her actions on idle curiosity when it was the deepest of love and care that led her to open the envelope. "That is not fair. I was just trying—"

"Ms. McInerney, you obviously do not share my commitment to putting your heart and soul into doing your job well."

Disbelief coursed through her. Did he truly not know her? How many times had she stayed late, worked through meals, even mentally prepared her words to ensure the best and most comforting delivery of dead letters to their recipients?

"Into doing the one thing right in my life that. . ."

Horror filled Shane as she stared at Oliver. The one thing right in his life? There's more to this. Much more.

Her accusation had sliced into him tearing away layers of protective shielding that hid real and deep-seated agony. Swallowing the confession and smothering the pain, he pushed past her. But she had heard and seen both. There was no denying their presence.

She turned and watched as he walked away. Did he really not know he was more than his work? That he did so much more good than simply solving the mystery of a dead letter? Could Holly's disappearance really have caused him to doubt his self-worth that much?

Shane reached the Jag a few minutes later. Oliver sat inside, engine running. She opened the passenger door and climbed in, savoring the heat pumping from the air vents even as silence sat between them, thick and heavy. She flicked her gaze toward him, trying to read his mood, to see beneath his shield. But his customary professionalism had returned, armoring him against further questions.

Maybe it's for the best. We do have work to do.

By the time they returned to the DLO, Shane was certain Holly would never be mentioned again. But then the forklift stopped their progress, and Oliver turned on his heel and posed his delicate question about Shane's other knowledge of Holly.

The uncertainty in his voice and gaze clenched her heart. He did need to know what she had found. If he never heard from Holly again, maybe knowing she had established herself in her new life would be enough to encourage him to move on.

...to be continued...