The Second Missing Kiss

By Felicia Ferguson

Author's Note: After an amazing POstables on the Go trip to Colorado, writer girl needed some DLO playtime to get back into the writing groove for the current novel-in-progress. Ergo, another fic request is getting checked off the list, lol.

Every rewatch of Home Again results in the collective POstable groan: WHY did Oliver not kiss Shane before he dashed off to New York? So, here y'all go, a ficlet to remedy that oversight. If you're wondering about the title, the first missing kiss was at the end of Truth Be Told on Shane's porch and was rectified in a ficlet called The Missing Kiss. Side note: this story does draw from my post-Higher Ground piece, The In-Between, but you don't have to read it first.

As always, I own none of the characters. They belong to the brilliant mind of Martha Williamson and the uber-talented Eric Mabius and Kristin Booth. Some parts of the Home Again DLO conversation have been pulled from the movie and are not mine but have been used to expand this story.

I love hearing your feedback, so let me know what you think. Enjoy!

1/1

Shane sat at her desk, eyes ready to cross, as she scanned yet another art and antiquity database to the warbling tunes of the peacenik trio. She shook her head again then clicked to the next page. Still nothing. Her gaze shifted to Oliver where he stood by his desk, rotary phone receiver clutched to his ear, and waited on hold. Again.

Peggy had been right to ask for their help in finding Mary Lou, but even with Mary Lou's business card, the process wasn't any easier. Shoulders stiffening with growing irritation, Oliver tapped his pen against the top of his desk as he sighed. As near as Shane could tell, he'd been routed through several staff members at the Roper News Agency in an attempt to track down Mary Lou's boss.

Her cheeks wrinkled with a small smile as she studied him. She longed to run her hand along his back and soothe his impatience. They would find Mary Lou, the history of the vase, and make the delivery right on time. Oliver's Divine Delivery Theory could have no other result.

A moment later, he greeted the new contact and once again began the lengthy explanation for his call. Shane glanced back at her search results then shook her head. No, she needed a break. A real one. Her gaze caught on the empty frame, her treasure and Oliver's trash, and her lips lifted. Maybe she could try finding it a home again.

She pushed her hair back over her shoulder, grabbed the frame, and began her search. But the only spot it would fit continued to be the former blank wall that had revealed their current assignment. A frustrated huff slipped between her lips. There had to be a place for it somewhere. It was too pretty to return to the junk heap. She scanned the walls again and smashed her lips together. That place, however, was unfortunately not going to be in the DLO.

Her gaze landed on a take-out menu peeking out from one of Norman's reference books. Bistro Ramon. She swallowed her mirth as she shook her head. Ramon was quite the jack-of-all-trades. Dance instructor. Weatherman. Lottery announcer. And now restaurant mogul.

Wait. Bistro Ramon is new. Maybe he'd like a restaurant warming gift?

Pursing her lips, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the frame. It would need to be painted to fit with the modern décor, but that was nothing a can of spray paint couldn't fix. And hanging an empty frame somewhere other than the DLO would definitely make Oliver happy. Hmmm …

The peacenik trio fell silent as "Turn! Turn! Turn!" came to its natural close, but the gentle strains of Sunny's strumming soon returned joined by Bil and Joe's voices and accented by the low growl of the drill. Shane set the frame near her desk and let the gift idea percolate. It had definite possibilities.

Oliver's polite, professional tone turned quick, interested. Her gaze darted to him and held. Had he finally found Mary Lou's boss? She grabbed her phone and joined him at his desk, listening to one side of the conversation. Her hopes soared only to be dashed by Oliver's disappointed end to the call. She watched as he hung up the phone then fell silent, and her brow furrowed. "So?"

Frustration mingled with his customary professionalism, clipping his words. He picked up a letter and a small package and walked toward the sorting wall as he gathered his thoughts. Shane waited, giving him space and knowing he would share the details once he fully reviewed the conversation.

He shot the letter up through the pneumatic tube with a satisfying whoosh, but his irritated concern remained. "Ah … Mary Lou's news crew is embedded with an undisclosed combat unit in an undisclosed country shooting footage for a television news special."

And here she thought the government had a lock on stonewalling. "Does she have an undisclosed phone number?"

Oliver took in a quick breath as they made their way to the sorting area. "She communicates occasionally through satellite conferencing, but sometimes that doesn't even work."

Concern flickered through her. "Oliver, that's not going to help. The auction is in three days."

Oliver flinched at the reminder as he settled the package in the outgoing box. But a moment later, his gaze sharpened, and Shane watched his brilliant mind piece together an alternative to admitting defeat. "However … the news director was willing … to try another call if I can make it to New York."

His eyes met hers, resolve firming his gaze, as they walked back toward her desk. "Ms. McInerney, would you book me a flight tonight?"

Her lips lifted in a quick understanding smile as hope once again flickered through her. There was still a card to play. With a nod, she said, "Sure." Slipping behind her desk, she pulled up her bookmarked travel company and typed in DIA to JFK.

Oliver's clipped professionalism warmed as yet another option came to mind. "If it doesn't fall under the Task Force budget, I'll cover it with the O'Toole Foundation."

The flight search results returned just as Rita and Norman burst through the DLO doors, bubbling with further details from Mr. Benahan, the art dealer. Not only was the vase old and valuable, there was an offer to buy it. Shane grinned. The Kellsers might yet have a way to save the dairy farm.

As Rita and Norman hurried to the new room to relay the news to Bil, Sunny, and Joe, Shane slipped over to Oliver, ready to share his flight options. But as she mentally reviewed the dates and times, uncertainty clenched her heart.

She'd been home from D.C. less than two weeks. Ever since their picnic date on Saturday, she and Oliver spent most every evening together, talking, teasing, but mostly settling into the rhythm of their new couplehood. She'd allowed him to lead, trusting him to choose a comfortable pace for their new progress, slow though it might be.

But what if another separation set them back? She couldn't face the thought of losing the ground they'd fought so hard to gain. And then there was her lingering PTSD. With Oliver, all memories of the Homeland Security assignment disappeared. Would the panic attacks and nightmares return with his absence? Despite knowing their work had to come first, hesitation still filled her voice. "I can book you on a red eye that leaves tonight … um … and returns?"

As if he could read every one of her fears, Oliver's tone warmed with reassurance. "As soon as I'm able."

Her worry eased, lifting her lips and brightening her eyes. Yes, they would be fine. She would be fine.

But on the heels of that comfort came another question. How would he leave her? He'd kissed her goodbye at the end of every evening since the picnic date. Her lips wrinkled as she glanced around the DLO. Those kisses though had all been shared outside the post office and mostly on her porch before he descended the stairs and headed home.

But despite being here in the DLO, this goodbye was different, wasn't it? They could be apart for days not just hours. Surely, he'd kiss her before he left.

Her gaze returned to him, and she read the stiff lines of his shoulders. But, maybe not. After all, they were at work. Rita and Norman were just in the next room and the rest of the postal workforce was only one door away.

She lifted her eyes to his and watched longing flare in their depths.

Hope flickered across her heart. Then again, maybe so. Maybe he just needed permission to bend his rule. She took in a quick breath. There was only one way to find out.

Shane bit her lip as her gaze fell to his hands. Filled with his suit coat and briefcase, there would be no raising of her knuckles to his lips. Nor clasping her hand and pulling her into his embrace. Any parting affection fell to her. Lips flickering curving into a tentative, inviting smile, she held his gaze as she cupped his cheek. Her thumb stroked the high bone, and the barest hint of beard scraped against her skin.

It's okay to kiss me, Oliver. It's not like we're a secret any more. Not that we ever really were.

Shane watched professionalism skirmish with the longing and waited. She'd learned the hard way not to push him. But heartbeats passed, and still he made no move. When it looked like professionalism had won, she bobbed her head in one accepting nod.

Not here. Not yet.

But as she slipped her hand from his cheek, he turned his head.

And his lips brushed her palm.

Her hand dropped away as her eyes widened. Pulse hiccupping at the brief caress, her gaze remained locked with his. Had he done what she thought he'd just done? The touch was fleeting, disappearing almost as soon as she felt it, but confirmation of its existence glowed in his eyes. He had kissed her. And meant it. Her heart melted.

Then, with a quick flicker of his lips, he was gone.

As the DLO doors swung closed behind him, Shane tucked her hand into a fist, cuddling his whisper of a kiss to her heart. A promise of his return and their continued progress.