A/N: Yes, this is really happening. I am writing an epilogue to the epilogue. It just wouldn't leave me alone. On top of everything, because this is apparently my life, stuff has happened that left me longing for ... something. Closure. Some semblance of a happy ending, even if it is only in fiction. So there.

Disclaimer: Still AU, still not mine (except for Ben and Hannah).

***POI***POI***POI***

The Epilogue's Epilogue

Snow was starting to cover the windshield of the nondescript grey sedan by the side of the road, thick, feathery flakes that promised a white Christmas.

What an irony.

Despite his years on the streets, the big romantic fool still loved snow. Had loved snow, Shaw corrected herself. Oh, the brutal precision of grammar.

"You waiting for Santa Clause to give you a ride to the front door?" Fusco's gruff voice pulled Sameen out of her reverie.

"Shuddup, Lionel," she replied without heat, reaching for the door handle, then letting her hand fall on the arm rest.

"Would you rather come back another day?" the older detective asked. He could be surprisingly empathetic if he put his mind to it.

"Not gonna change a thing," Shaw bit out. Then, softly: "They deserve to know. They deserve closure."

"And ruin their Christmas?"

"Chanukka, Lionel. They're Jewish," Sameen retorted automatically.

"Yeah, that makes it so much better," Fusco snorted. "Want me to come with you?" he added after a moment, all sarcasm gone.

For a second, Shaw looked like she was going to accept his offer, but then she shook her head. "No. I think I need to do this by myself. But thanks. – Maybe you can let Bear have a run in the meantime? Not too close to the stables, though ..."

Fusco briefly squeezed her wrist and gave her a genuine, sad smile. "Go. I got this."

***POI***POI***POI***

With a wildly beating heart, Sameen raised her hand to knock on the front door of the doctors' house. There would be a heap of emotional displays that she wasn't looking forward to, but she was determined to do this right. Her empathy skills might be lacking, but she had practised carefully, and she would give it her best shot.

The knock sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the December afternoon. A few moments later, a man's steps approached the door, which then proceeded to open and reveal the tall frame of Benjamin Al-Khalil. He seemed as surprised to see Shaw as she was to see him. For some reason she had expected Hannah.

"Good afternoon," she greeted him, her voice just the slightest bit unsure.

"You're alive!" the stunned man replied after blinking a few times.

"Well ... yes. I am."

"And you came here because ...?" Really, the guy rallied quickly. There was no denying his military background.

"I would like to speak with you and Hannah ... if I may ... please?" Every line she had rehearsed seemed to escape her, no matter how much she willed herself to remember. There was something strange about the atmosphere, something ... off ... in the doctor's demeanour.

"One moment," he said curtly, then half-turned his head and called in the general direction of the stairway: "Hannie? You may wanna come down here."

"What is it?" The reply sounded slightly muffled, but Shaw heard steps approaching upstairs, and then Hannah's slender form came into view. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a haphazard bun and looked slightly wet, as if she'd just showered.

"Shaw?" Incredulous did not even begin to describe the tone that Hannah managed to put in this one word. She barrelled down the stairs and unashamedly used her husband to break her momentum. "You're alive!"

"That's what I said," Ben deadpanned.

Hannah gently boxed him in the ribs. "Don't let her stand there in the freezing cold. Come on in, Sameen! We were just going to have tea. Come on, come through to the kitchen!"

Completely baffled, Shaw allowed herself to be steered through the hallway and into the warm, homely kitchen that smelled enticingly of spiced tea and something delicious in the oven.

"Thank you," she murmured as she was seated at the table and a glass of tea appeared in front of her.

Suddenly Hannah was sitting opposite her, while Ben looked to be standing sentry by the door, with a clear view out the window.

"Are you safe?" Hannah asked, and it took Shaw a moment to process that the question was directed at her.

"Safe? Yes, sure, why wouldn't I be?" The niggling sense of off seemed to impede her logical thinking, because both doctors shot her a disbelieving look.

"Really?" Ben retorted with raised eyebrows, and Hannah impatiently shook her head.

"We've been keeping our eyes and ears open ever since ..." the dark-haired woman who had his eyes explained quietly. "We weren't surprised that nobody except for Lionel showed up at the funeral, but none of our contacts were able to dig up any trace of any of you, not nationally, not internationally. Now I realise that could have just been on purpose, but the more likely explanation was that all of you just ... didn't survive ... that day."

"Why would you keep feelers out for us?" Shaw's brain finally got with the programme.

Hannah sat back, folding her hands in front of her and resting them on the edge of the table. A shadow crossed her eyes and her voice was very soft as she answered: "We wanted to know what happened. How ... and why ..." She pressed her lips into a thin line, and Ben stepped over to put his hands comfortingly on his wife's shoulders.

"Well ... yeah ... this is sort of why I am here," Shaw admitted, suddenly wishing Lionel was here – or at least Bear – to lend her some moral support.

"We're listening," Ben said tersely, though not unkindly.

The ensuing silence stretched out while Sameen struggled for words, and like the world's worst cliché, the kitchen clock ticked loudly in the stillness of the room.

The suspense was broken by wild barking outside in the yard. Three heads snapped towards the window, but only Ben could see that was going on. "Dear me!" he stated drily. "That's unexpected."

Hannah half-stood and followed his gaze. "Huh," was all she said.

"What?" Shaw asked uselessly, then shoved back her chair and strode to the window. She saw Lionel at a fair distance, jogging over from where the car was parked by the side of the access road. She saw Bear, a bouncing, barking, yipping ball of fur excitedly greeting the person he had enthusiastically tackled to the ground.

And then the Malinois moved away from the person's torso for a moment, giving her a good view of their face.

Sameen felt her knees buckle, but Ben caught her before she could get hurt. "Easy," he said in a soothing tone that was all wrong, because –

"You'd better get out there and intervene," Hannah interrupted Shaw's train of thought, taking over from her husband who was already halfway out the door.

"How ...?" Shaw choked out, feeling she was suffocating on the tears that clogged her throat.

But if there was an answer from Hannah – which there probably wasn't – Sameen couldn't hear it over the rushing in her ears.

Somehow she found herself back on her chair, a glass of cold water pressed into her hands. "Drink," Hannah ordered, and she obeyed.

It was all she needed to rally, apparently, because the next thing she knew was that she was running out into the yard, stopping only inches in front of the man that had been helped back on his feet in the meantime. Her eyes travelled up to his face, seeing but not understanding.

"Hello Shaw," the familiar voice said, softly, fondly. "Good to see you alive."

And she broke, in a very different way than she had with Root. Her arms went around him in a feeble attempt to hold herself up, her face dropped against his chest, and she wept.

***POI***POI***POI***

She would never remember how they all got back into the house in the end. It probably had something to do with Ben and Lionel guiding – supporting, really – her and John inside. Somehow they all ended up in the living room, in front of the roaring fire and with mugs of coffee and tea in their hands.

When Sameen finally calmed down and managed to really take in what was going on around her, she decided that maybe her breakdown was the most natural reaction she could have had. She was sitting on the sofa, tucked into John's right side, but the arm around her didn't feel as strong as it used to. Lionel was perched on the coffee table opposite them, one hand clasping John's knee, his other hand covering his tear-stained face, his broad shoulders occasionally twitching in a muffled sob. Hannah and Ben both huddled on the armchair, which should have been a physical impossibility given the size of the chair. Only Bear seemed content, lying half on the sofa and half on John's lap, happily rubbing his head against John's stomach.

"I'm sorry," Shaw hiccupped, because she didn't know what else to say.

"Don't you dare!" Lionel huffed, lifting his head and glaring at her with puffy eyes. "I'm having a moment here!"

Sameen laughed helplessly, looking up at John's smiling face. "I've never been so happy to see anyone in my life," she admitted in a voice softer than he'd ever heard from her. Then she blinked away the last of her tears and sat up a little. "How are you, really?"

The arm around her shoulder tightened marginally and she realised it was probably all the strength he had left in the limb. He slightly turned his head to look at her, but his right eye did not track. And when he spoke, there was a faint slur to his words. Still, his familiar husky voice was music to her ears. "I'm really glad to be alive."

***POI***POI***POI***

It was almost midnight before they said good-bye, and when they did, Shaw felt like a gaping wound in her chest (and she knew from experience what these felt like) had closed – tender still, but no longer raw and weeping. She knelt down to rub Bear's back. "You be good, and no more tackling John to the ground, you hear me?" Bear panted and grinned. Yes, grinned, because that dog was more human than most people she knew.

Then she stood and embraced John. "I will stay in touch," she promised.

"I'll make sure that she does!" Lionel added, clasping John's good shoulder. Then he looked at Hannah and Ben, who stood slightly off to the side, arm in arm. "Take good care of each other, will you?"

"You, too," Hannah replied, and John nodded his agreement.

Suddenly Shaw was hesitant to let go of her friend. "Will you be all right?" she asked quietly. Though he seemed content – happy even – it was clear that he would be in physical need of help for the rest of his life.

But John just smiled and lifted his weak hand to carefully cradle her face. "I have all I need."

***The END***