A/N: I'm so glad you continued this story with me. Thanks so much to those who read and reviewed here and on Twitter. Now, the conclusion of my brief tale.

Chapter 2: Conclusion

"Hey, is that…me?" Shane asked Ms. Capodiomonte.

Sure enough, on the walkway along the Tidal Basin, across from the Jefferson Memorial, Shane saw herself in a flowery spring dress and pale pink cardigan to match the cherry blossoms falling around her. She could smell the sweet fragrance of the blossoms, could hear the almost hushed talking of the tourists, their soft exclamations of wonder at the beauty surrounding them. In future Shane's hand was a picnic basket, and she kept looking down the path as if she were watching for someone.

"What is this? Why am—are we—here?"

"Just watch," said Shane's spirit guide. And from out of the cover of the blossoming branches came none other than her old boyfriend, Steve. Shane gasped, then gasped again when future Steve bent and kissed future Shane's cheek.

"No," said Shane. "No. No. No. No—"

"Why is this so upsetting to you?" interrupted Ms. Capodiomonte.

"Because I don't want to be with him. I left Washington partly because of him. He didn't have time for me. I—I wasn't a priority."

"People can change, you know."

"Is he still a government agent?" Shane asked.

"Yes."

"Then I don't see him changing. Why am I with him? I'm a fairly savvy woman. I try to learn from my mistakes."

"Do you now?" Ms. Capodiomonte asked skeptically. "So running away from your problems instead of facing them—is that a mistake you've learned from?"

Shane flushed, but said nothing. Her attention turned toward the couple that were walking arm in arm. They reached a spot just off the path in the tender spring grass, and future Shane took out a blanket from the basket and spread it out. The future couple sat down, and began to talk. Shane moved closer so she could hear.

"It's so beautiful here. I love this time of year!" Exclaimed her future self. "Thank you for inviting me on a picnic. What a lovely idea."

"I thought so," said future Steve. "I—oh, excuse me. I have to take this."

His cell phone had interrupted them, and it brought Shane right back to the main reason she'd left him. Future Steve shook his head apologetically, then got up from the blanket and walked away from her, talking into his phone.

"See, look," said Shane. "He hasn't changed a bit. He didn't have to answer that, not right then. Or maybe he did. Maybe the fate of the world rested on this call. Either way, how can I play second fiddle to the world?" She watched herself hang her head, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She didn't even bother unpacking their lunch; she knew what was coming. Future Steve returned to the blanket.

"I'm so sorry. I have to go."

"Of course you do," said future Shane dully.

"I'm really sorry, Shane. This is a very delicate situation developing. It could take us to the brink of—"

"Of an international crisis," future Shane finished for him.

"I'll call you, okay?"

But future Shane was already standing up, gathering the blanket into her arms and stuffing it back in the basket.

"Don't bother. Nothing has changed, Steve. I was a fool to think it had."

"Shane—can't we talk about this later?"

"I don't think so. Just go. Go save the world. Now I know how Lois Lane felt," she said dryly.

"I really am sorry."

"Me too."

Shane watched herself quickly wipe a tear, then, basket on her arm, head down, walk back in the opposite direction than future Steve had gone.

"Why on earth would I have done that?" she asked her companion.

"When you quit the DLO, you went to stay with your mother in DC for awhile. You were devastated about losing Oliver, your friends, your job. You were vulnerable, at loose ends, and at your lowest point, when your mother forced you out of bed to get some fresh air. You went out and got coffee, and happened to run into Steve. He still frequented the place where you both used to go. You struck up a conversation, and he asked you to go see the blossoms, to share a picnic. You agreed."

"I…I guess I must have been feeling rejected, lost."

"That you were. And after this catastrophe, what do you think you'll do next? You quit the USPS completely."

"I don't know. I don't know." Shane shook her head, her eyes welling with present day tears. "Can we just leave this time, please? I want to go home."

"Where is home, honey? You quit, remember?"

"Home. To Denver. Please.
"As you wish."

And with a wave of Ms. Capodiomonte's hand, they were back at Shane's house. It was dark in front of her house, and they were afforded a view from the bottom of her porch steps of herself in the very near future, as it was dark and cold, and she was carrying her box of desk belongings. Working on a porch swing, was Oliver.

"Oh my gosh," exclaimed Shane. "Is this tonight?"

"Yes, dear."

"Is that…a swing?" Shane's eyes widened in surprise, and her hand went to her heart. It was both full and aching at the same time. "He got me a swing," she whispered, in awe of his thoughtfulness.

Eagerly, she listened in on their conversation.

"I came here to tell you, something," future Oliver was saying. "I took your advice. I forgave Holly, and well, we decided to give our marriage another try."

"No!" said Shane to future Oliver.

But future Shane stood stoically before him. "Well…congratulations, I guess. I hope you two will be very happy."

"I—I wanted to give you something, an early birthday present, to thank you for being my friend, for listening, for helping me gain insight into the right thing to do."

"You're welcome." Future Shane cleared her throat, and looked over at the swing. "Thanks for this. It's very thoughtful."

"Is it like the one you had as a little girl?"

"Exactly."

Future Oliver smiled. "Good. I really wish you'd reconsider quitting. I don't know how we're going to manage at the DLO, without your mastery of the internet."

"I'm sure you'll be just fine. Now, if you don't mind, I'm very tired, and I need to start packing in the morning." Her voice was clipped and cold, and the current Shane knew her future self was trying not to break down in front of him.

"Packing?" Future Oliver looked from her to the swing he'd just spent two hours putting together. "You're moving too?"

"I don't know where yet, but I think I'll visit my mother for awhile until I decide."

"But I don't understand. I thought you'd grown to like it here."

"I've decided in recent days that…well, this really isn't the best place for me to be. I'm sorry to leave you in the lurch like this. I just am ready to make a change and I don't want to wait to start my life over."

"Oh. Well. We'll miss you."

And future Oliver moved to give her a friendly goodbye hug. Future Shane held on tightly, closing her eyes, and breathing him in for the last time.

"Oh, Theresa, why are you doing this to me? I—this is unbearable." She covered her streaming eyes and turned away.

Once again there was an obvious time shift, and Shane looked up to find that Ms. Capodiamonte brought her to yet another scene. They were back at the DLO, but it was early evening, and Oliver was alone in the office, sitting numbly in his chair. His hands went to his head, and he stared blindly at the letter on his desk.

"When is this?" asked Shane.

"Six months from now."

Shane moved to stand beside an oblivious Oliver, the better to read the letter he'd spread out before him.

"It's from Holly." She read a little more. "She's left him again, gone back to Paris. Oh, Oliver."

She wanted desperately to take him into her arms, but when she tried to touch him, he had no reaction at all. She could feel the warmth of his strong forearm, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. She looked over at Ms. Capodiamonte. "I knew this would happen. See? I'm right to be leaving. He chose Holly, and the last thing I want to do is stick around to see him go through all of this again."

"But without you, how is he going to get through this on his own? His faith and his work helped in the past. I'm not so sure he'll recover this time, not without you."

Suddenly, future Oliver stood, and in a flash of blind rage, he swept everything off his desk, his prized collection of letter openers flying dangerously in all directions before clattering on the floor. Instinctively, Shane stepped back, watching in awe as he fell heavily back into his chair, then laid his arms atop his empty desk, before burying his face in them, weeping inconsolably.

Even though she knew it would do no good, Shane went to him because she had to, caressing his shaking shoulder with one hand, her other moving to gently touch his hair. It was soft, as she'd always imagined.

"My poor, sweet Oliver," she whispered, crying along with him, her own heart breaking. She bent down and kissed the top of his head. "Please, take his pain away," she said to Ms. Capodiamonte, who was still standing off to the side, solemnly observing.

"I can't change the future, dear; only you can."

"Me?"

"You must choose to face your problems, especially since it's not just yourself you have to worry about now. Don't you see? If you quit, even though it's painful for you to stay, what will become of Oliver when Holly inevitably disappoints him? Who will be there with a ready shoulder, with words of encouragement?"

"He has friends—Norman and Rita…"

"But you are the one he'll really want, Shane, the one he'll need most of all."

Shane looked down at the broken man before her. "But he's crying for another woman-one that he chose over me."

"Are you sure about that? Maybe he was just trying to honor his vows."

"Oh Shane," future Oliver sobbed, as if on cue. "I was such a fool to have let you go, a fool to think she had changed. You've been gone so long, but I still feel like you're here, all around me, tormenting me because I let you slip away. Please God, forgive me, and let me have another chance to tell her how much I-I love her."

"What?" said Shane, totally shocked.

Ms. Capodiamonte came to stand by her. "You've come to a crossroads now, my dear. There are many alternate universes out there, Shane. You must take a leap of faith, face your fears, trust that God will put you where you need to be, that He is the one in control."

She looked down at Oliver, then at her spirit guide, then around the quirky DLO which she hadn't technically even left yet, but that she missed as if she'd been gone for years. Her heart pounding in her ears, her mind circled round and round with painful indecision. She didn't want to be hurt again. She didn't want to see Oliver go through the pain of a wrong though well-meaning choice. She didn't want to make the same mistakes over and over—quitting…leaving…Steve. She was afraid, and she was torn.

She didn't know how to pray, but she looked toward heaven for help, closed her eyes, and took that leap.

"I don't want to quit!" she proclaimed to Ms. Capodiamonte and Whomever else might be listening.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shane looked at her surroundings, disoriented. How did I get here? She was in front of her own porch steps, and it was very cold; a light snow still falling. The last thing she remembered before this moment was being in the DLO. After she'd seen Oliver and Holly dancing and kissing at the Mailbox Grille, she'd walked in the cold for a long time, thinking, before she'd found herself in front of the post office. She went inside to get warm, opening the private door in the back of the lobby with her key code, walking down the dimly lit hallway to the DLO. Another key code entry, and she was inside, staring at the soft, lamplit office.

She stared at Oliver's desk for a few sad moments, before taking a seat in his big leather chair. She leaned back, reveling in the comfort that comes when you're the boss. She gave a small smile. She was all cried out now, accepting that Oliver clearly had chosen to be with Holly. It was going to be difficult to see him with her, and her first instinct had been to run. But on her long, cold walk, it occurred to her that that was what she always did when things got hard, or when she felt out of control of her situation—she quit.

This was a revelation, and a difficult one to face about herself. But she'd learned something this past year—persevering often led to satisfying outcomes. She'd seen it as she'd stuck with staying at the DLO, despite the mistake that had put her there in the first place, for she'd come to love her job and the people she worked with. It was hard to imagine what might have happened had she really quit after that first day. Thankfully, she would never know.

She'd felt that satisfaction every day, with all the letters and packages they'd been able to deliver, against all odds, as the POstables put their minds and hearts into it and didn't give up until they'd found the destined recipients. And now, she thought, her fingers running absently over Oliver's desk, she must try to get through Oliver and Holly's marriage, part two. She was in love with him, but he wasn't hers, and that's just the hand that had been dealt to her. She shook her head wryly. She had been the one to put this whole thing in motion to begin with, finding Holly's address in Paris, telling Oliver about it, practically forcing him to make contact with her. Of course, it had been her hope that Oliver would finally be able to move on, to put his wife in the past, to open his heart to someone new, or someone who had been right in front of him.

Oliver had been the one to teach her about trusting the timing; perhaps this was the ultimate test for that. She only wanted him to be happy, even if it was without her. But Shane had a sneaking suspicion that this thing between Oliver and Holly wasn't going to last. They were just too different, and Holly had had a taste of freedom and adventure; it would be hard for her to settle down and stay put in Denver again. And so, if Holly left him, he would need someone, and Shane would be there. Sure, until that happened it would be torture, but if you truly love someone, even just as a friend, you stick around.

You don't quit.

Shane blinked when she heard a shuffling noise above her on her front porch. She turned to look at the street in front of her house. Her car was there, though she was disturbed to find she didn't remember driving home. And another car was there too, behind hers, completely covered in snow, though the distinctive outline show it to be a Jaguar—Oliver's. Heart pounding, she gripped the shoulder strap of her purse with one hand, held onto the handrail of the snowy steps with the other.

At the top of the steps she paused, watching Oliver as he bent and checked if a newly-assembled porch swing was level. Her eyes widened as the meaning of this began to sink in.

"Oliver! What on earth-? Oliver, what is this?"

Oliver rose and turned to see her standing there, barely able to articulate. "It's an early birthday present."

"But…why? I mean, why now, at this time of the night?"

"You mean, the morning? The police had the same question…I had wanted it to be a surprise, but well…happy birthday!" he finished lamely, a bit crestfallen at how his surprise hadn't quite gone over the way he'd intended.

He seemed happy, however; relaxed—Shane supposed he would be, after the cozy scene she'd witnessed between him and his wife. She still didn't understand why he was not with Holly back at his house, celebrating, probably in their warm bed—she shook her head to shake that unwelcome image out of her mind.

"You want to try it out?" he asked, with a hint of excited anticipation and pride at what he'd done.

"Where's Holly?" she blurted.

"Holly?" He seemed confused. "Miss McInerney, my wife has returned to Paris."

"What?"

"We wished each other well, kissed each other goodbye…"

Her eyes flew to his. "You kissed each other goodbye?" She repeated numbly, her heart not daring to hope…

"Yes."

Her gaze dropped to his bare left hand, and she reached for it. His ringless left hand.

"How do you feel?"

"Relieved," he said meaningfully, his eyes intent on hers. "Please, come and try out your new swing. I need to see if it's a good fit."

Her mind reeling, she let him take her hand and lead her to the swing. She sat on the cold wooden bench, but she was feeling so warm inside that it didn't matter. He'd remembered what she'd told him about her childhood home, and the porch swing she used to have, and she was touched beyond measure by his thoughtfulness.

"Is it like the one you had as a little girl?" he asked, joining her, because porch swings are really meant for two.

"It's better," she said happily, realizing that this was really happening. Holly had moved on, and so had he. "I can't believe you did this for me," she said. "Thank you."

He took her gloved hand in his and turned toward her. She could feel how cold his hand was, so she rubbed both of his hands between her own.

"I wanted you to know how much I—" he hesitated, searching for the right words, "how much I've appreciated you these past couple of days. You've been a true friend to me. I know it must have been trying, listening to me ramble on, so annoyingly indecisive."

"Not at all," she said. "This was an important moment in your life. I'm glad I could be there for you."

He lifted her hand and kissed the leather covering her knuckles, his eyes shining in the porchlight. "Tonight, when Holly told me her wishes for us, I was secretly praying that she would say that it was over, so that it would be easier for me to tell her I'd come to the same conclusion, even before we sat down to dinner. For me, no matter what she'd decided, it was over, and tonight was going to be our goodbye."

"Why?" she dared ask, holding her breath.

"Because you can't stay with someone…when your heart is somewhere else."

"You…can't?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

His answer was the sudden, cold, lovely brush of his lips upon hers. He raised his head to look at her questioningly, and she responded by pulling his head back to hers. In that moment, it didn't matter that he had recently been kissing someone else, that technically he was still married, that they worked together, or any of all the myriad reasons why this shouldn't be happening. Shane was trusting in the timing, and the timing had brought him to her front porch on a cold night in February.

Their kisses were alternately passionate and tender, hungry and giving. His hands wove into the chilled strands of her hair, and her knees pressed into the warmth of his coat. Their lips were hot now, warming them both from the inside out, like rich hot chocolate. Shane felt renewed tears behind her tightly closed eyes as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. She gasped into his mouth and he pulled her body closer to his.

A few blissful moments passed before she felt him reluctantly begin to pull away. After a few light kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her red nose, he moved to sit back against the swing, but he drew her immediately to his side, slipping his arm around the seatback. Shane laid her head against his shoulder, and he set the swing in gentle motion. Her hand slipped inside his coat, where she could still feel the heavy pounding of his heart. She smiled, at the feel of his kiss on her temple.

"Have you heard from Theresa Capodiamonte?" she asked breaking the comfortable silence.

Startled, he chuckled. "No. Why are you thinking of her right now, of all people?"

"I don't know," she mused. "For some reason, she suddenly came to mind. Strange."

"Yes it is. But I daresay I've grown accustomed to the curious way that your beautiful mind works, Miss McInerney, though it still frequently befuddles me. It's one of the things I—I love most about you."

Her own confession hovered on her tongue, but she saved it, trusting the timing again. She smiled in boundless joy. "Perhaps tonight's events remind me of the last thing she said to us, about taking the time to dream, to dance, to take care of our hearts. I think we're both finally doing that, Oliver."

His arm settled more firmly around her, and he couldn't resist kissing her rosy cheek once more. "Yes," he agreed. "And it's truly wonderful."

"It's a wonderful night," she said, sighing contentedly, watching the steady fall of the snow.

"It is indeed, my dear Shane."

And somewhere above them, Shane's spirit guide smiled.

"Atta girl," she said, and with a wave of her golden wand, disappeared into the mists of time, leaving behind a lone pink crocus. Never quitting despite the long winter, it pushed its determined head up through the frozen ground.

A/N: Okay, I confess this entire story came from my fervent wish that Oliver had kissed Shane on the swing that night. I know that scene without the kiss was still perfection, and it would have changed the entire course of the show, but hey, this is what fanfiction is for, right? Thanks for reading.