A/N: Sorry I'm so late in getting out this conclusion. I'm recovering from surgery I had last Friday and just now felt like finishing this up. I hope I've tied up the loose ends and circled the long way back to events in the show's regular timeline (for the most part). I enjoy AU fics, and if you look at my writing for other fandoms, that's sort of my specialty. Thank you so much for all your kind words and encouragement to keep going. I hope you like this ending.

Chapter 7: Conclusion

Oliver

My heart gives a little jolt when I see that Shane's hospital bed is empty. I take a deep breath and calmly go to the nurse's station, where I find she's been moved from ICU to a private room. This is promising news, and there is a lightness in my step as I go back to the elevator and go down another floor. I find her room number and give a knock on the partly closed door.

"Come in," says Mrs. McInerney. I enter a much large, airier space, complete with a couch beneath the window, a recliner, and without as many machines with their annoying little beeps. Shane's roses are now on the nightstand right by her bed.

"Hello," I say to Shane's mother. I don't know how much Shane might have told her about our disagreement earlier, and I feel suitably sheepish about it enough that I have trouble meeting her eyes.

"Oliver," she acknowledges. "I guess you found us. What man in the twenty-first century doesn't have a cell phone? I would have called you…"

"After the events of the past few days, I'm rethinking that myself," I say, as I find Shane's deep blue eyes widening in surprise at this remark.

"Hello," I say to her, and feel myself blush. Mrs. McInerney is fairly adept at reading a room, and excuses herself with a lame excuse I don't register. We are alone when Shane finally replies with a hesitant: "Hi."

I make a show of looking around her new room, and I go to the window to check out her view. In the parking lot lights I can see she'll be able to see the park I was just in and the mountains in the distance when it's light.

"I'm glad you're out of that dreadful ICU. You'll have a pleasant view from this window."

"I'm told they're going to try to get me on my feet tomorrow, if I'm not too dizzy."

"Good news," I say sincerely.

It's odd that I left the park with so much I wanted to say to her, and now I'm inarticulate in her presence. It's been a long time since I felt this awkward around her. I remember that was a frequent state for me when we first met. Unless we were speaking about work, I was decidedly inelegant.

"I saw Rita, Norman, and your dad earlier."

"They've been here nearly as much as I," I tell her.

"I'm lucky to have their friendship."

"Yes." And I am once again speechless.

"About earlier," Shane finally broaches the topic.

"I'm sorry," I interrupt, finally finding my voice, naturally at an inopportune moment. "You must know I was merely voicing my frustration with recent events."

"You had every right, Oliver. Not saying what we really feel has been a big hindrance to our relationship. We've both been a bit gun-shy, I think. Understandably so."

"I read your letters," I blurted. "That's where I've been. Reading them."

"You have?" It's her turn to blush. "And?"

"I—they were very…enlightening."

Her face falls. I've disappointed her again. Drat it, this isn't at all how I wanted this to go. Are we forever bound to repeat this cycle of misunderstanding, hurt, and lack of forthrightness? No! It ends right here, right now. I forcefully push aside my fear and my awkwardness and go to her side. "They were also very beautiful," I whisper. "As are you."

And then I bend over her bed and kiss her. Her lips at first are frozen in surprise, but then she makes a little noise in her throat, and they warm and move beneath mine. She tastes of mint toothpaste and strawberry lip balm and the sweetness that I instantly remember as unique to her. My father advised me to take my time when next we kissed, and so I do. I feel her fingers go to my nape, then slide into my hair, and I am lost. I don't know how long we kiss, but I have never experienced the like of it, the anticipation, the passion, the love, all mingling, all consuming. Her hair is soft beneath my hands, her cheeks like satin. Lack of oxygen is the only thing that draws me away, and I am breathing as if I've run a marathon, my heart racing along with it. I open heavy lids and look at her dazed expression, smile a bit, take a quick breath, and proceed to capture her mouth again.

I know this is utterly and completely inappropriate, but for once I don't care, and the way she's kissing me back, she doesn't seem to mind it either. It's her mother's cleared throat that finally breaks us apart, and I lift my head, and promptly stumble a step back, mortified and shocked at my own behavior, especially in front of her mother. My face is hot with embarrassment.

Mrs. McInerney, hands on hips, presents a wry twist of her lips. "Why, Oliver O'Toole, I never would have guessed you had it in you."

"Oh, uh, pardon me. That was…ahem…uh…totally inexcusable of me."

"You're excused," Shane and her mother say together. Then, my sweet Shane, flushed, her mouth swollen and well-kissed, chuckles softly with bewitching eyes, and I feel warm all over for a completely different reason.

"Would you like me to leave again?" Mrs. McInerny asks tactfully.

"No, uh, of course not. We were—Oh good heavens, never mind." I give up trying to explain the obvious.

Shane, her hand now blessedly free of her IV, reaches out to take mine. "Stay, please. We still need to talk. I have lot of things to say to you."

"And I you," I manage, gently squeezing her hand and glancing warily at her mother. "But later."

I'm very thankful when an orderly brings in Shane's dinner on a tray, and I sit out of the way at the window seat. I watch as her mother arranges the simple repast of what appears to be some sort of chopped meat, mashed potatoes, and green beans, and a small container of ice cream for dessert. It smells better than it looks. Mrs. McInerney tucks a paper napkin beneath Shane's chin, then takes the plastic ware out of its cellophane package and begins to spear a piece of meat with the fork.

"I think I can do this myself now, Mom," she says, glancing over at me in a mixture of amusement and embarrassment.

"Oh, well…if you're sure…" She actually seems disappointed that her daughter can feed herself now. She sits in the nearby chair and watches, ready to jump to the rescue if needed.

Shane takes her first awkward bite, only able to use one hand to eat. She swallows, then turns to address her audience

"Do you two mind not staring? I feel like it's feeding time at the zoo."

I grin, but turn my head to stare out the window, my heart still a bit jumpy after our passionate interlude.

"Have you eaten?" Shane asks, between bites of mashed potatoes.

"No. I find I've had no appetite lately."

"I'm sorry," she says.

"You're not to blame, for any of this." I see she understands my double meaning. As does her mother.

"Well of course she's not to blame," says Mrs. McInerney. "We all know who that is-it's the guy whose face looks a tad worse than yours, Oliver."

"Mr. Marek and I have made our peace," I say. "I see no need to rehash it. I for one plan to move on and look to the future."

Shane sets down her plastic fork. "That's a good idea, Oliver. I plan to do the same. I think we all should." Her gaze rests pointedly on Mrs. McInerney.

"I'm not sure yet if I can. I don't get you two. Because of his actions, my daughter almost died and you two nearly lost each other. How can you be so easy to forgive?"

"My faith allows me to," I tell her. "I was wrong to have challenged him, wrong to have resorted to violence. Shane is here, and she's on the mend, and I am grateful. God is good."

"I agree with Oliver," Shane says, meeting my eyes. "Faith has come to mean a great deal to me. It got me through the past two months; it's getting me through my time in the hospital. It's allowing me to forgive. I don't want to hold grudges or place blame. It only hurts me, Mom. It'll only hurt you."

Mrs. McInerney is obviously upset. She's not ready to let this go, and I'm certainly in no place to judge her. But I am so moved by Shane. She, who has every right to be upset, given her current circumstances, has chosen to forgive. She, whom I know has struggled with her relationship with God, seems to have experienced a complete turnaround. I love her so much in this moment I feel my heart is near bursting.

"I'm going for a walk," say Mrs. McInerney in frustration, and she rises and leaves us. Shane and I understand,and let her go.

"Will she be all right?" I ask Shane, moving to stand beside her bed. "Should I go find her and talk to her?"

"She just needs some time. My mother is very levelheaded, but she's also stubborn and used to being right." She smiles. "Sound familiar?"

"Why, Miss McInerney, I never knew you had so much in common with your mother."

She laughs. "Very funny. Mr. Kettle, I believe you've met Ms. Pot."

"Indeed. In that case, would you like me to cut up your meat for you?"

"You wouldn't dare," she says, and picks up her fork possessively.

I'm smiling, and suddenly she forgets that I'm watching her eat.

"I wonder if she'll go back to your house and rest for a while. She must not have been getting much sleep either."

"Wait. What? She's been staying at my house?" Shane seems extremely dismayed by this news.

"She found your key ring in your luggage. It seemed practical she would stay at your place. She's also been using your car."

Shane pushes her tray table away. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

In the past, I have found her long spate of no's alarming, or sometimes amusing, but I genuinely don't understand why her mother staying in her house would be so upsetting to her.

"What's wrong?"

"Oliver, you have no idea. Imagine going home to find your furniture's been rearranged and everything you've ever loved has been given away or hidden. I'll be running into chairs and looking for days for my favorite shoes. And worse, my car will smell like disinfectant and my freezer will be stocked with portion controlled lasagna. I hate lasagna, Oliver. I hate it." Her eyes are round and blazing blue fire.

I try very hard not to laugh at her obvious exaggeration. "On the bright side, she's mostly been at the hospital, so she hasn't had much time to—"

"Are you kidding me? That woman never sleeps, and when she's stressed—she organizes." She hisses the word like it's poison in her mouth.

To distract her, I pick up the abandoned cup of ice cream from her tray and remove the small cardboard lid. I retrieve her spoon, take a big scoop, and place it at the opening of her mouth.

"Ice cream won't fix this, Oliver."

"Hey, look, it's chocolate."

I nudge her lips with the spoon and she grudgingly opens them to take the bite. She closes her eyes and savors the treat, resting her head resignedly against the pillow with a deep sigh. I watch her with so much love that when she suddenly opens her eyes, I know she can't help but see my feelings clearly on display. She's quiet, and opens her mouth for another bite. My heart skips a beat at the sensuality of the moment, and I feed her the rest of the ice cream while our locked eyes do not waver. Ironically, she doesn't seem to mind that I'm the one feeding her, and when she finishes the last bite, I reward both of us by finding her cold lips with mine.

I lift my head and look deeply into her eyes, and the words come out before I even think to stop them: "I love you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shane

For a moment, I'm shocked, but then I feel my face relax into a smile of pure joy, and I reach up and bring his mouth back to mine. He loves me. It's not that I didn't know this in my heart but hearing him admit it has done more to heal me than any doctor ever could.

He pulls away, both of us breathless, and I see in him a familiar vulnerability. I realize he needs me to say it back. My throat is suddenly tight and I swallow. I don't mean to keep him in suspense, but I haven't said those words to a man in so long, and I've been so very wrong in the past about this stuff…but this is Oliver, a man who knows what hurt and betrayal means as much as I do, and if he can summon the courage to put his heart on the line once more…

I take a deep breath and reach for his hand. I look down at our laced fingers, how large his hand is compared to mine, how easily they fit together, how right. I look up again and his blue eyes captivate me. He's nervous, but he is patient. I take a deep breath, clear my throat, and I feel the hot sting of tears behind my eyes.

"I—I love you too," I say quietly, but the moment I say the words, it's like a pressure valve has finally been released on my pent-up emotions, and I feel instant relief and happiness.

"You do?" he says, no doubt feeling how surreal this is along with me.

"I do," I say. He reaches out with his thumb and catches the tear that's rolling down my cheek. I hadn't even realized I was crying.

"Well."

"Yes."

We smile, and the weight of what we have said hangs palpably in the air. This changes everything.

"I thought of you every day I was gone," I say.

"And I you. I've felt so lost. Nothing was the same without you. I missed you, so very much."

"I wish I hadn't gone." I'd said this in my letters, but I felt that he needed to hear me say it. "For obvious reasons, but some…not so obvious, the night I left."

"I think you made that more than clear a moment ago. But I want to move on from the past, Shane, like I said. I want to move on…with you."

"Yes."

He notices that I'm getting tired; the constant, dull ache in my head tends to wear on me after a while, until I can no longer ignore it.

"Will you sit with me, while I rest awhile?" I ask

"There's no place else I'd rather be."

He rolls the recliner closer to the bed, takes my hand, and I close my eyes. I feel his gaze upon me, and I feel him press another kiss on my forehead.

"I love you, Shane McInerney," he whispers, and that's the last I remember before his words follow me into my dreams.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I'm in the hospital two more days. Oliver is there most of the time. I catch him dozing in the recliner sometimes, and I can't help but stare. I've never seen him asleep before. His face looks much younger, and I admire the curve of his lips, the strong nose, the five o'clock shadow that adds a rough sexiness that under normal circumstances he'd be appalled to let me see. Mom is a constant presence too, fussing and tending to my every need, so Oliver and I have little time alone.

Mom brought me my robe from home and once I'm able to walk without much dizziness, Oliver accompanies me on a stroll around my floor's hallways, my good arm tucked in his. I feel safe and sturdy next to him, and he catches me up with what's been going on at the DLO.

"I can't believe you've found Gabe," I say.

Oliver smirks. "We weren't completely helpless without you."

"That's not what I meant."

He smiles down at me to let me know he's teasing.

"Yes. He's a very nice man. So positive, so Godly. And you would love his music."

I smile. "I can't wait to meet him. I have a good lead on Hattie. I didn't have time to fully investigate before—well, before. But if I could have ten minutes with my laptop—"

"Absolutely not," Oliver says, reiterating the doctor's orders. "No undue strain on your eyes or shoulders. It will only make your headache worse anyway."

I sigh. "Between you and my mother, I have no choice but to get better."

"Precisely."

As we round one hallway into the next, I have a feeling of déjà vu. "This reminds me of the last time we took a stroll together."

"It was a little more romantic than this, as I recall."

"Not a raincloud in sight."

"More's the pity," says Oliver. I look up at him and he squeezes my hand.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Oliver gets permission to take me outside in a wheelchair, and I'm more excited than I probably should be. I'd seen the park across the way, and I wanted desperately to get some fresh air and sunlight. Mom bundles me up to my neck with my robe and an extra blanket, and sneakers from my bag in the closet. Like a child, the moment I'm out of her sight, outside in the warm weather, I pull down the blanket to my hips. I take deep breaths, then delight in the scenery as Oliver pushes me across the crosswalk and onto the path in the park. He wheels me to the pond where the ducks quack happily, and he sits beside me on a bench.

"This is lovely," I say at the sight of the distant mountains.

"I read your letters here," he says shyly.

"I'm glad." He takes my hand and kisses it, and even though I'm in a wheelchair and my head still pounds dully, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Okay, now put your right arm around my neck, and I'll lift you out."

"Oliver, I think I can walk on my own now."

He's poised at the open passenger door of his Jaguar, ready to heroically lift me out and take me up the stairs into my house. Mom has been there all morning, "preparing" my place for my arrival, and I'm a little frightened about what I might find. Since I'll need to take it easy, and with my broken arm, I'll require a little help bathing and getting dressed, she's planning on staying another week. I don't like the idea, and had considered asking Rita to move in temporarily, but at this suggestion, Mom is so crestfallen that I take it back. I guess I can suck it up for a week.

"Please," Oliver is saying. "I don't want you getting dizzy on the steps and falling. Consider it for my peace of mind."

"All right."

He bends and I do as instructed. He's much stronger than I imagined—must be all the boxing—and he lifts me like I'm nothing into his arms. When he's holding me he pauses, and we're at eye level. The look in his eyes makes me reconsider the necessity of his carrying me, and I smile dreamily at him. And then, my very staid and proper Mr. O'Toole plants a tender kiss on my lips outside on a public street, where anyone might happen to see. I kiss him back, and I wonder if we might both be too dizzy now to walk.

He carries me up the stairs with little effort and sets me on the porch by the door. I'm inordinately pleased to be home again, had longed for this place so many times, had longed for this man to be with me. I glance over at the swing, which Oliver had reassured me was now squeak free. I can't wait to sit on it again, with him.

He tries the door, and when he sees with a frown it's unlocked, opens it and I precede him inside. I am suddenly inundated with cheers from Mom, Rita, Norman, Ramon, and Joe. They've strung a hand-painted sign over the fireplace that says Welcome Home Shane! I am surprised and delighted and feel a bit misty that all the people I love most are here to greet me.

I am lavishly hugged and kissed on the cheek before I'm led to the couch and chastised that I should be sitting and resting. Mom and Rita bring out finger foods, lemonade, and beer and lay them out on the coffee table, and everyone is laughing and talking at once.

"Did you know about this?" I ask quietly of Oliver, whose sitting beside me.

He lowers his voice too. "No, but I did suspect. Should I ask them to leave? Are you too tired already?"

"Don't even think about it," I say, and he surprises me again with a warm kiss on my forehead beneath my stitches. There's a knowing look that passes between Norman and Rita, and Joe winks at me. I guess the cat's out of the bag that Oliver and I are together now, but I can't say I'm sorry, and by the contented expression on Oliver's face, I don't think he is either.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When I'm finally allowed the use of my laptop, I find who I think is Hattie located down in Austin, Texas. I immediately encourage Oliver to go and find her, and he leaves, albeit reluctantly. My friends are all back at work, Mom is doing laundry in the basement, and I go out on my front porch to sit on my swing. Oliver was right: the swing rocks without a sound, and I smile in appreciation of his loving gesture. I lay back and enjoy the air and look with happiness at the beginnings of buds on my rose bushes.

I look toward the street when an unfamiliar car pulls in front of my house, and I tense when I see it's Steve who gets out and walks leisurely up my path to the steps. His face holds the vestiges of Oliver's handiwork, but like Oliver's, the bruises are in the yellow and gray stages of healing, though I can see that one of Steve's eyes is still bloodshot. Oliver really must have done a number on him.

I haven't seen Steve since before the accident, and I don't know what to say to him now. He leans against the porch railing in front of me and gives me a sheepish smile.

"You look so much better than the last time I saw you," he says.

"I should hope so."

He's just as uncomfortable as I am. "I see you waited until Oliver left town to come for a visit," I comment suspiciously, wondering if he's been keeping tabs on us.

He shrugs. "I thought it might be best. I'm sure he's regaled you with the play-by-play of our duel in the gym."

"No," I say tightly, "but I know he regrets it. My mom still wants to kill you though, so you'd better say your piece and get out of here before she finds you loitering on my front porch."

"You're mad at me too, I see. I am sorry, Shane. For everything." He looks hurt by my coldness, and it annoys me that he's surprised.

"I'm not mad, exactly, and I don't blame you for the accident. I think I'm more…disappointed in you. I'm beginning to think you asked for my help in order to try to start up a relationship with me again. I think you manipulated me, and that's what I don't like."

"We really did need you—"

"You could have found a much more experienced hacker, Steve, but I was too flattered to think it through at the time. You made it seem like you were desperate for my help."

"I'm guessing it won't make a difference to you to know now that I'm still in love with you, and that, for what it's worth, I've hated myself that you got hurt. It almost killed me to see you in that wrecked SUV. When I found you, I thought you were dead."

"I'm with Oliver now," I say. "I love him, and he loves me. Thank you for getting me to a hospital, for getting me back to Denver, but you'll understand when I say, in the nicest possible way, I never want to see you again."

He stares at me, obviously hurting. I feel sorry for him, but not sorry enough to give him what he needs. He has my forgiveness, but I'm also more than ready to forget him, to get on with my life, with Oliver.

"Shane—"

"Goodbye, Steve. I wish the best for you, I truly do, but I think you should respect my wishes for once and go back to DC."

I think he finally realizes that it's time to give up. "Goodbye, Shane. And I hope that Oliver is smart enough not to let you go."

I nod, and he leaves without another word. I'm sad that we couldn't have ended things as friends, but I know I can never trust him again. I sigh, missing Oliver. Mom opens the front door and looks toward the street, then at me.

"Was someone here? I thought I heard you talking."

"It was no one special," I say. Not anymore.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Oliver calls me that night, says that he found Hattie, and that she is flying back to Denver with him in the morning.

"Oh, I'm so happy. Won't that be an amazing reunion between her and Gabe!"

"Yes," he replies. "And I can't wait for our own reunion." His voice is low and meaningful, and I feel a thrill at his unspoken promise. "Can you keep a secret?" he asks me.

"Of course."

"Norman told me on my way out this morning that he's going to ask Rita to marry him."

"Oh my gosh! That's wonderful news! Everything is finally on the right track at last."

"So it seems. It won't be completely right, however, until I'm back home, and you're in my arms again."

I never knew he could be so romantic, and it makes my heart sing to hear the love there, even from so far away.

"I wish you were already here. I miss you so much."

He hesitates. "I could catch a red-eye tonight, let Hattie know I'll pick her up at the airport when she arrives in Denver tomorrow."

My heart thumps at the thought, but I don't want to be selfish. He must be really tired already. "That's silly, Oliver. Get a good night's sleep and I'll see you tomorrow."

He's quiet on his end, and I wonder if I've hurt his feelings. It's not that I don't want to see him sooner, but—

"We've been apart too much lately," he finally says, and I hear that stubborn determination that I used to find so annoying. "I'm getting a flight tonight. Will you wait up for me?"

"I'll leave the porch light on for you," I say, and my smile is so wide my cheeks hurt. "Come on home."

THE END

A/N: I don't know when/if I'll write another SSD story. All my ideas seem to be alternate universe kinds of things, since I've already written a post-series story. At any rate, should inspiration strike, I hope you take another chance and come back to read again. Thanks so much for your support of this fic.