Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I did own a bag of jelly beans but ate them in the furious process of...wait for it...wait for it...FINISHING this story!

Rating Note: WARNING! The language and violence steps up in this chapter...

A/N: I was inspired last night after a great meeting at work and worked into the wee hours to finally finish the story. I have one more chapter after this to post and then the Epilogue. Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you for the reviews. I am more than delighted that you like/love/tolerate this story. It's been a favorite to write and I will miss the characters once I am done posting it. This chapter is dedicated to Meg Cabot and Jane Austen, simply because great writers inspire me and push me to be better and create my stories.

Read, review and relax.

Ella

Grant House

There was a safe and quick successive knock on the Grant door. Judge Grant knew that it wasn't January yet a small piece of him hoped this was one big mistake. He hoped against everything that Keith Mars was wrong and his daughter was fine. He was right to never be a betting man, on the other side of the door was a private investigator and his daughter's personal hero, Keith Mars.

Keith stood at the door with trepidation and his rapid mind firing on how he should approach this delicate situation. Because not only did he have to worry about his apprentice possibly being kidnapped and killed but he had to worry about his granddaughter. His granddaughter was missing. He didn't know how to tell the Grants this or explain why any minute Veronica and Logan would be there, too. Because what did a photographer and a movie producer have to do with a missing teenager?

In this case, everything.

He held his composure and greeted Judge Grant solemnly and outright. No pretense or pretending on why he was here. He was here because he was very good at his job and finding people and rescuing them was one of them.

"Judge Grant. Mrs. Grant." He smiled slightly, trying to calm them as he entered their home. First thing was first, make sure everything was set-up in case of emergency. "I need to ask you, I know January has little brothers. They aren't here, are they?"

Mrs. Grant merely shook her head. Her voice was barely above a whisper as tears kept dripping from her eyes. "No, I took them to Lizzie Guan's house. She agreed to watch them and didn't ask anything…"

"Good. Good. Next, you haven't alerted any police officers…anybody of the disappearance, have you?"

"No." This time Judge Grant spoke-up. "We didn't. I told everyone at work that January had come home sick and my wife would be out with the boys till late this evening."

Keith nodded that this was a smart move. He'd give Judge Grant one thing- he could think on his fast and sound in a moment of crisis. "Now, I need both of you to sit down because this is about to get a whole lot worse and a whole lot more confusing."

"What are you talking about?" Judge Grant asked, his voice already beleaguered by the circumstances and not fond of being ordered to sit down and told things were going to "get worse."

"Please, Mr. and Mrs. Grant- sit down." Keith spoke in the authoritative voice he occasionally used with the over-worried parents he dealt with in his job. They looked at each other in pure confusion and sat down. "Mr. and Mrs. Grant how much do you know about January's birth parents?"

"How…" Mrs. Grant choked. There was no need. Her husband finished for her.

"Nothing. It was a totally closed adoption with no record of her mother or father. I am assuming January told you about our fight and her being adopted."

Keith placed his hands at his mouth and elbows on his knees as he sat and shook his head. "No, she never told me." His voice almost sounding aloof. "Her parents'…that is to say her birth parents' told me."

"Wait, how could…her birth parents' are here? They know for certain January is theirs?" Judge Grant asked, more confused and not really believing it either.

"They know because they ran a D.N.A. test on her. She is also born at the very time and date that their daughter was born and in the very place."

"Have you been working for them this whole time? Is that why you got close to her?" Now Judge Grant was standing in anger.

"No. I didn't know till five minutes ago when they told me."

"Why would they tell you?"

"Because January's biological mother is my daughter, Veronica."

There was a stone silence in the room as if anyone was afraid to move. Keith had finally said it. He never said it when she was born and never once spoke about since. Today, on the day he could possibly really lose her, he said it out loud to himself and to her adoptive parents. Keith wouldn't have to worry about breaking the silence because at that moment Logan, Veronica, Eli and Wallace burst through the unlocked door.

So much for a secure environment.

Keith was quick to stand and make the proper introductions amongst what was appearing to be a volatile crowd of people in a small living room.

"Judge Grant, Mrs. Grant- this is my daughter Veronica Mars. Logan Echolls. My partner, Eli Navarro and the Vice-Principal and family friend, Wallace Fenell."

Veronica began snapping mental images of the couple. They were so…normal. She'd seen them before, in the information she had Googled and pulled-up since her "discovery." They were normal parents, older than her and Logan but only by a few years. She'd given her daughter the perfect home life. Two stable parents and a pair of younger brothers; obviously and purposefully missing in her mind-shots.

Logan had taken in the picture in the very same way. It could easily be said that he didn't have the best of childhoods. His parents were notorious, infamous, and dead before his 21st birthday. He'd been beaten and neglected as a kid. Although he had money, he missed out on the normalcy of a loving family. Veronica, while having a "super-swell" dad, still was missing an alcoholic mother who had run off with her savings. Her mother was also an adulterer and could have made Veronica's life a Greek-tragedy by way of Mr. Kane. How could they have ever raised a normal-adjusted daughter between the home lives they led? And standing in front of him were the perfect parents. They probably bought her a pony and everything. January had two loving parents to raise her and for a brief glimpse, he was jealous of her.

"I hate to interrupt what is an awkward moment but Keith you got two minutes to tell me what Echolls is doin' here before I kill him." Eli replied, cutting to the chase.

Keith glared at Eli but knew he'd have to answer at some point. "Eli, January is the biological daughter of Veronica and Logan." There, he said it again. It had to get easier, right?

"Oh." Eli had no other reply. It was as if someone had spiked his Cheerios with acid. Veronica and Logan reproducing wasn't a thought he wanted or ever cared to have.

"I think we talk about that later. What I'm worried about is that neither January nor Alex Guan, Heathe Mitchell or Hannah Kane showed up for school today. That is half-of the newspaper class. What's going on?" Wallace asked, reinstating the worry in the room.

"January and I had a fight last night about her seeing Heathe. Under the current circumstances and disappearances I didn't think it was a good idea. We had a pretty hefty screaming match before she admitted she knew she was adopted. She went to her room last night and I left early this morning before she did---for what I assumed would be school." Judge Grant realized they had to begin to go over January's steps and emotions and motives in order to judge where she was.

"I ran into her at the cemetery early this morning. She asked me about the grave in the picture. I told her the whole story. She left in a hurry after that…" Logan spoke, continuing January's movement over Neptune.

"She didn't come to school, we know. Neither did Hannah, Alex or Heathe…" Keith filled-in.

"Hannah and Alex were at Duncan's before we left. Hannah said that Alex believed January had figured out we were her parents and would be acting on that information. He took Hannah's car and went to find her. He mentioned something about her meeting a guy from school for a date, a mutual friend and catching her there." Veronica continued.

"The mutual friend is Heathe Mitchell and if I'm right and if your daughter is right- he's the Cheerleader Serial Killer." Keith stated.

"And since it's your kid V, there's no doubt she's gone after Psycho Teen-Throb all by herself." Eli keenly observed.

Before Veronica could reply, she caught Logan's eye who had been motioning her to follow him. The two politely excused themselves and Logan pulled out his cell. He had received a text from Duncan.

ALEX CALLED HANNAH. SAID SOMETHING ABOUT A PIPE WAREHOUSE. NEEDED TO CONTACT KEITH, ASAP. CALL ME BACK.

Heathe had taken January to the old abandon Pipe Warehouse. Veronica reappeared and motioned for her father and left Wallace to talk to the Grants. She told him of the text.

"Alright, Veronica and…Logan, God I CAN'T BELIEVE I AM SAYING THIS---," He gritted. "Go to the Warehouse. Find Alex and January and be very careful of Heathe. Call me when you get there. I will with the Grants go to the Department and be there as soon as I can with the authorities and emergency crew if needed. I will have Eli and Wallace make sure we have all the information ready to hand over about the case. Go. Now." His voice low and commanding as he spoke.

He paused and if he ever believed in God he prayed. Prayed that January was still alive and that this case would have a happy ending and that everyone stayed alive. He went into the next room and began his strategy with the Grants.

Veronica and Logan sped off in her car. She was shaking and racing and this was all happening too fast for her. She felt a hand cover hers over the gear where she had let it rest. Her shaking stopped and she took a quick glance at his hand, his eyes fixed out the fast moving roads behind them. She knew he wasn't only doing this for her but for himself. At this moment, whatever happened in the past was just that- they were racing for a future.

--------------------------------------------

Pipe Warehouse

"No matter how nice the company one might be with, however, it is never pleasant to have a rifle pointed at one's back." Meg Cabot

Alright, so maybe it wasn't a rifle…

Actually it was a tricked out semi-automatic that was probably procured on E-Bay and Heathe Mitchell was holding it to my back while forcing me down stairs in the abandon Pipe Warehouse. Oh goody, an abandon building where a sociopath hides their bodies. This wasn't the first time I had had a gun pointed at me but I can honestly say you never really enjoy the feeling of the cold metal pushing against your skin. Nope, not pleasurable at all.

As we made our way down the stairs I wondered over my options:

Option A: Remain silent and hope that the senseless psycho behind me has pity and decides not to let me "join the others."

Option B: Try talking to the psycho and get out his motive and talk him out of butchering me. Note to self: if I take this option try not to use the words "psycho" or "butcher" when appealing to him.

Option C: Taser his ass and push him down the stairs and make a run for it. Another note to self: He's holding a very large gun to my back and may get off a round before I get to him. I'd really like to walk away from this without bullets in me or you know…being dead.

"You know this is entirely your fault."

Okay, Option B it is.

"And how would that be Heathe?"

"You didn't have to know anything. You could have stopped investigating."

"Are you serious? We met at the school newspaper. You really think I would stop trying to figure this out, even if it meant I discovered your dirty little secrets."

He shoved the gun harder into my back. Maybe being sarcastic wasn't a good tactic to use with the psycho.

"You think you know everything…"

"As a matter of fact I do. But I'm sure you know the story- let's play it out. Your creep-a-zoid of a father, a once prominent plastic surgeon, had multiple affairs with the high school cheerleading squad back in your hometown. Small town usually means big mouths, and it wasn't long before the whole town knew what "daddy dearest" was screwing- including your family. Your darling mother, who is anything but darling and passive, beat your father into submission and all the way to California. She managed to get the Sheriff's job through good ole' fashioned family money. Your dad skirks away in a second-rate plastic surgeon business and you all pretend it never happened." I pause as we reach the bottom of the stairs and for effect. If I'm going to tell "Michael Meyers" back here his motive then I am going to do it with flare, dang it! "So you, not adjusting at all to the fact that your father betrayed your family and made "ya'll" the laughing stock of town- decide if you kill a cheerleader then he won't ever look at them the same way again. No more cheerleaders, no more illegal sex and no more disgusting daddy. Am I right?"

He grunted and shoved the gun harder into my back.

So, I was right. I had only one unanswered question. And really, it was sort of bugging me. "I'll admit I don't know everything that happens in that cute little psychotic head of yours…why the jewelry?" I asked referring to the different pieces of the victims' jewelry he had left.

He smiled and suddenly the smile I thought once dreamy was literally frightening- like the smile I imagined Ted Bundy had. Ewww. "Daddy-dearest as you called him use to take my Mom's jewelry and give it to whichever pom-pom screw buddy of the month. My mother's family heirlooms left on the corner of a nightstand in a sleazy motel where he paid them like whores. But then again, that's what they were…or are…."

"Really? That's the reason you left the jewelry? That's the most trite and boring thing I have ever heard."

He used his gun to shove me to the cold hard floor of the basement of the Warehouse. Another bright idea is not to go and insult the serial killer's bizarre and bland yet twisted clues he has chosen precisely to leave behind. To each killer his own…

I turned around slowly, facing Heathe. My arms were beginning to already feel the weight of the shoving and grabbing and dragging and beating. They felt heavy and stiff and sore. My body had begun to ache and I was fairly certain in this last push I had heard something crack in the ankle region of my body. I felt warm blood drip down my lip and then down my cheek as my face had made impact with the floor. I was afraid. I might say stupid things and you know, do stupid things like go after a serial killer all by myself but I wasn't so stupid as not to be scared for my life. Heathe had without a doubt in my mind killed four girls my age and if I wasn't careful and if the hand of God didn't intervene there was also little doubt I would be number five.

Heathe kept the gun steadily aimed at me, more specifically my head as he began to ruffle through a dirty Neptune High gym bag on the floor that had almost magically appeared at his feet. He pulled from the bag a water bottle filled with something other than water, a dirty rag, and what looked like handcuffs. Just a guess but that bottle was filled with something he would shove down my throat with help of the rag and little resistance from me bound in the cuffs. I could feel in my pocket my taser. I knew that even though I was sure he could outrun me in my current state and he could shoot me- I had better odds if I was conscious than knocked out with whatever was in the bottle. As he continued his set-up and holding the gun towards my head, thoughts raced through my mind.

When your life flashes before your eyes you're supposed to see all the things that have happened, right? The good and the bad times all become a montage set to a hardcore soundtrack as you see your past life. I didn't see my past, I only saw what could have been my future that would never be. I saw Logan Echolls. I saw him as I remembered him in the cemetery; broken and open and still so strong. I saw Veronica Mars. I saw her as my hero; her eyes seeing everything I wanted to see but missed. I saw Keith. I saw my Mom and Dad and my brothers and the lives I would miss. I saw a future that I could never…solve. And then the adrenaline burst through me- I was a Grant and I wasn't going to give that future up so easily. Not without a fight. Heathe began to approach me with the gun in his right hand and the cuffs in his left. He didn't move the gun's aim but went towards my back and was likely going to try to cuff me from behind. As he reached back, in a swift movement that summoned most of my strength I pulled the taser from my pocket and aimed at whatever piece of his flesh I could connect with…in this case, his arm. I pushed the button with all my might not letting go till he'd screamed and fallen, dropping the cuffs at least. I pushed up and I made a bolt for the stairs and freedom. I wasn't as fast I thought was nor did I hurt him as much as I needed to because in the blink of an eye- midway up the stairs I felt his full body pull me back down. My face met every stair and I yelled in complete agony as the steel tore my cheeks, my forehead, and blackened my eyes. He pulled me back down and without the handcuffs but the leverage of a weapon forced my mouth open and with the dirty rag heaved chemicals down my throat. As they slid down and I did everything within my power not to swallow I felt as if my throat and chest had been set on fire. I prayed they had so I knew this pain would eventually end; even if it were death. I gagged and choked and my head began to feel heavy. I was losing consciousness but while I had underestimated his speed and ability he had underestimated my determination not to die. The fight or flight within me was all fight as he had laid me on my taser. I reached one last time and tased the poor shmuck in the face and heard rage in pain and throw his gun. I smiled.

Moron.

My eyes began to drop, my chest felt as if it were ripping, and just before I blacked out I heard the shot of the gun and what I thought to be the voice of my guardian angel.

Alex had come to save me.

To say Alex had never fired a weapon in his life was an understatement. Alex generally stayed away from pointy objects such as butcher knives too. The thought of harming another being never appealed to him in the least.

Till now.

Till he saw January Grant's battered and barely recognizable body on the muck dirt floor of the Pipe Warehouse and Heathe slowly gathering back from the tase January had issued him, he hadn't wanted to ever hurt someone so much. In this case, Alex wanted to kill the S.O.B.

Heathe Mitchell had not only harmed the girl he knew he was in love with since the moment he met her but he had also kidnapped and murdered his cousins. In Alex's mind ethics consisted of him killing Heathe to be the good and decent thing to do.

Heathe looked around for the source of the gunshot. Someone had followed him. He had a pretty good idea who and with that knowledge grabbed the unconscious body of January Grant and placed her in front of him. His face was stinging from the tase but he was still mobile and intent on seeing this through. If he had two more bodies, he'd simply buy a bigger freezer. Anything to stop the incessant and ridiculous cheering and whoring of the cheerleaders. From the shadows of the Warehouse, Alex Guan moved with the gun directly pointed at Heathe. Heathe leered at Alex. "You're not going to shoot me and her. I know you man, you like her. You want her alive then you're letting me go."

Alex's eye lit with rage and fury and even managed to make Heathe flinch in surprise. "Don't kid yourself. I don't want to see January dead but over my cold dead body will you get away."

"That can be arranged, just ask your cousins."

That was it. Alex fired another shot that barely missed Heathe's ear and ran almost through January's hair. Heathe was unnerved as he headed towards the stairs and up them, the gun never moving. Alex followed closely behind.

"You're going to pay for this. Everyone knows it's you."

"The only people that know are you and "Sleeping Beauty" here. Everyone else will believe it's my dad. It's all set-up. Poor fool couldn't have what he wanted anymore so he took it anyway. No one will ever believe someone like me is capable of this."

"Whatever." Alex grumbled. In truth, Heathe was mistaken because if he ever thought about where he lived he would know teenage serial killers were a dime a dozen in Neptune. Neptune wrote a whole new chapter on teen violence and it would have no problem believing once again it had produced another adolescent with serious daddy issues and love for death, especially others' deaths.

They made it to the door and Heathe began to open it, never really letting his eyes leave Alex or the gun and that was Heathe's mistake because on the other side stood Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars. Heathe began to turn towards his freedom and found the last person he should ever want to see standing there while he held a tortured January…

Logan took one fail swoop and grabbed Heathe and pulled him outside and began to beat him senseless. January's body began to fall and Alex dropped the gun and caught her, as they both slammed against the side as not to fall all the way back down. Alex felt the crack of his ribs and the weight of her body and heard her slow gasps. He pulled her up and outside to the dark brisk night and into the dim lights of the back alley city. He held onto her and took in that she was alive and slumped against the side wall outside and watched as Heathe met his match in the arena of pure rage and hate.

"NO ONE LAYS A HAND ON MY DAUGHTER! NO ONE!" Logan continued to hit Heathe full force with his fists. He kicked Heathe and picked the beaten boy up by the collar. Veronica ran and pulled with all her force Logan off of Heathe, who was lying beaten on the ground. Her arms surrounded him, holding him back and then just holding him.

Logan pulled away quickly, broke free of Veronica's grasp and ran to January's side, where Alex was holding her in his lap. His ribs were aching from the force of supporting both their bodies on the stare and his eyes were blood shot and red; full of fear, hurt and that ever unmistakable rage that both Logan and Veronica had known well that still was within him.

January's face was almost unrecognizable. Cut and bruised, her eyes were hidden in the matted blood and darkness. She was breathing heavily as the chemical Heathe had used to stop her from talking was scarring her throat. Pain shot thru her entire body each time she gasped for air.

Logan met eyes with Alex and Alex gently gave January to him. Logan leaned against the concrete side and held his baby girl. Veronica was quick to follow- taking off her short jacket and ripping into shreds. She placed strips in her mouth and carefully started to clean January's wounded face and body. She took her daughter's hand and held it tightly- she felt a return squeeze-small but oh so big. Tears poured from Veronica's eyes. Logan gently whispered to January that everything would be okay-over and over again.

In the distance sirens pierced the night and the lights bore down over the ghastly scene. Heathe lay on the concrete- tased and beaten- with little life in him. Alex was standing against the steal door that led to the bodies of four young girls, dead and abused, rotting away in the cold freezer in the muck of the abandon factory. Logan continued to hold January and Veronica would not let go of her hand.

Alex remembered very few things in what happened next. He remembered Keith Mars arriving behind the Sheriff. Sheriff Mitchell being pulled away from the scene by Deputy Ankersen. The ambulance arriving. Judge and Mrs. Grant running to their daughter and slowly pulling her away from Logan and Veronica. The medics placing January in the ambulance. Cops everywhere asking him questions. Keith pulling him away and putting him in a car. Eli driving him home.

The last image Alex remembered, really remembered before being pulled away, was the image of Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars leaning still against the concrete wall- now holding each other-watching their daughter disappear from their grasp once more.

Grant House

January's Bedroom

"You're awake?"

"I have been for awhile."

"How long have you known?"

"Since I was thirteen; my blood type was O- and you and Mom and Fritz and Brock are Type A."

"Why didn't you ask?"

"I was afraid to. I love you. I didn't want to hurt you or Mom. I thought if I asked you'd think I was looking for something better; something other than you."

"You really felt that way?"

"I still do. I don't…I don't…I don't want to lose you."

"Oh, my beautiful girl…we found you first- how could you think you would ever lose us? I remember the day they placed you in my arms. I didn't think I could love anyone as much as I loved you after that moment. Here you were- this small gorgeous little baby girl and you were all mine. I thought- I hoped that would be it. You were mine and I would never have to share you."

"Dad…"

"January, I haven't always been there. I'm old enough to know where I've made my mistakes. You have grown-up into this beautiful courageous young woman, who has spirit and is full of life. I missed that and I can't get those days back. It ends here. No more missing moments; no more letting you grow-up without me; and no more secrets; okay?"

"Okay, Daddy."

"January whatever happens and whatever you decide you will always be my baby girl. And as my baby girl if you ever go chase a murderer again I will ground you for life. Got that?"

"I think so."

"I love you the ends of the earth."

"I love you further."

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Grant House

I felt a hand gently brush my hair out of my face. I opened my still swollen eyes slowly to the dim room. My mom was sitting on the edge of the bed- the edges of her face, in spite of everything, lined with worry. Her voice was soft and tender. "Honey, Alex is here to see you. Do you feel like company? Maybe you could even take a walk down on the beach… you really do need to get up."

I looked around my room. I hadn't moved from bed in three days. I hadn't talked to anyone except my parents and Fritz and Brock- who brought me their game system in case I felt like playing because it always made them feel better. I had shut myself off. My secret was out. But I wanted to see Alex, I needed to see Alex. "Will you help me?" I asked my mom, my voice still scratched and hushed from the chemicals.

My mom's voice broke. "Of course, sweetie. I'll help you with whatever you need." She helped me up and washed my face. She combed my hair. She went to my dresser and picked out a comfortable t-shirt and pair of faded black shorts. She helped me up and dressed me. She pulled my hair back. I then consented to let her put a little make-up on me to cover the bruises and swelling. She then went to a sack; one of the many sacks full of "get well" and "thank-you" gifts, and pulled out a pair of large expensive sunglasses. She placed flip flops on my feet.

Before she began helping me move downstairs to meet Alex, I pulled my mom into an embrace. I hugged her tighter than I ever had before- just like I had Dad that night. Years of wondering why I didn't belong had clouded me from seeing how much I was loved. My mom returned the embrace carefully, kissed my forehead, and whispered a small quiet, "I love you, too." Then she helped me downstairs to greet my visitor.

Alex was standing in the doorway. He looked different. He was wearing a dark blue collared shirt, nice khaki pants, and his hair was stylish and combed. His demeanor was a mixture of sadness and joy. It was then I realized- funerals. He had gone to his cousins' funeral today. I stopped and caught my breath at the thought of it. Two young girls who had a life ahead of them were dead and the only justice the family had was knowing the kid who did it was being sentenced as an adult to life without parole. He didn't die. He would go on living. Kami and Kara would not. My Mom gave a worried look before I nodded and continued.

"Hi."

"Hi."

I tried to smile. My face was still sore. Alex smiled for me. He looked to my Mom, "Hello Mrs. Grant. I just needed to talk to January- if that's okay."

"That's fine. Why don't you two walk down along the beach? Just be sure it's not too long… she's still recovering."

I sighed. I was standing right there. I am sure Alex was full aware that I wasn't in supergirl condition. "We won't be long Mom." I walked over to Alex, took his arm and we made our way to the shore.

We didn't say anything till the sand hit our feet. I removed my flip flops

"How's Isa?"

Alex and I didn't look at each other- we just faced the horizon and long path of sand.

"She's in shambles, Jan. Her best friend murdered her neighbors and tried to murder you. She refused to come to the funerals and she's all but locked herself in her room. I tried to get her to come with me today but she wouldn't."

"She feels guilty." More of a statement than question.

"Yeah, she feels guilty that she couldn't see what no one else could."

"Even me…" My voice trailed.

"Jan…you saw it. Eventually you figured it out."

"So did you, my hero." I paused and stopped us both and looked at him for the first time. His eyes were darker, he was taller, he'd grown-up in all of this- hadn't he? I tried to sound glib, "I think that's what I am going to call you from now on- my hero."

He smiled sweetly at the gesture and turned his gaze to the ocean and I followed it. "Everyone's talking about you…"

"Surprise. Surprise."

"January Grant the illegitimate love child of Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars… You are the story at school."

"Surprise. Surprise."

"Then there's the fact you caught a…murderer. You've impressed a lot of people. I think I even heard Hannah Kane say something remotely nice about you. Meredith and Michael Casablancas asked how you were doing, too."

"Now I am surprised." I laughed at the irony. I moved to Neptune thinking I had removed myself from ever really finding my birth parents when in reality, I moved straight into them. "How did I miss that Alex? Why didn't I see who I was? Who they were?"

He didn't say anything right away. I could tell he was thinking. He turned his head towards mine and met me eye to eye. "January, it doesn't matter. You are who you have always been. Being the daughter of a famous photographer and TV producer for two weeks doesn't change the fact you were the daughter of a judge and housewife for 16 years before that. You are January Grant and you've lived this amazing life- with or without them. You would still live that life- with or without them. The question is: which is it going to be? It's all up to you."

"I don't want it to be. I thought I did but I don't… I just want to…"

"Be yourself."

"Yeah. Be me and I'm not sure if I'm ready for them… does that make me a horrible person? After all these years of wondering and wishing and waiting and I got it but I'm not sure I want it…I'm selfish."

"Jan, the last thing in this world you are- is selfish. You willingly put your life in danger to save others. You took chances to bring people back together again- whether you knew or not. You are not selfish. You are beautiful and strong and brave and…"

Before Alex could finish, I had my arms around his neck and my mouth covering his. I tasted his lips and he returned the kiss. I was aching from reaching him but it was worth it. He had saved my life and been my friend and had intrigued me, too. He was another mystery that I wanted to solve. He wrapped his arms around my waist and gently lifted me up, easing my pain. Our kiss went deeper as our bodies closed in on each other.

I don't know how long we stood in the sunset and "made out" but each moment was thrilling and exciting. Eventually, I slowly pulled away from him and sank into his arms- which he enveloped me with. This was peace. This was healing. He gently kissed the top of my head and whispered, "You are my hero." He then took me by the arm and led me back, his hand never leaving mine.

I was good at losing things, but as my Dad had said often when I was younger, I was really good at finding them too.