A/N:Ok, so, we've neared the end. I apologize if some of you find this chapter sappy compared to the rest, but i couldnt do anything about it. However, don't hesitate to let me know if the sap was bad enough to make you cringe and bang your head against your keyboard... sometimes i respond that way, too. anyway, here's the last chappie of the fic! stick around for the epilogue coming up next! (which is, like, now).

The buzzing phone on the nightstand forces Terry to finally open his eyes. Reaching out with a heavy arm, he grabs the tiny gadget and holds it up to his ear.

"What?" He groggily asks, closing his eyes again.

"I knew you'd forget," Max irritably replies.

"Shit!" He suddenly curses as he leaps out of bed. He hangs up as he pulls on a pair of jeans and grabs his shirt off the floor before sprinting out the door.

Checking her watch again, Max lets out an annoyed sigh as she thinks of ways to let Terry have it. This is the last time she'll ask him to drive her to the airport. She finally catches sight of him on his bike speeding towards her before parking in between two cars.

"I know, I know," he starts, taking his helmet off.

She tosses her car keys his way. "The bag's already in the trunk. Let's go," she orders as she gets into the passenger seat of her car.

Sliding into the driver's side, Terry turns the car on and eases into traffic. "So, what happened?" Max starts, looking over at him as he merges onto the highway.

"I forgot to set the alarm," he sheepishly replies. After giving him a reprimanding look, a sigh escapes her lips bringing the matter to an end. "So, Tokyo," Terry tries changing the subject. "Are you excited?"

"Cut the crap, McGinnis; I still remember the conversation we had last night before you pretended a crisis came up," Max accuses. During his patrol, Terry had called Max and accidentally let it slip that he confronted Jazz.

"I wasn't pretending," Terry counters.

"Yeah, okay," Max unconvincingly replies, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, I believe we were at the part where you ran into her."

Terry squirms in his seat; he feels uncomfortable with recalling what happened the day before. What he and Jazz shared was personal, and he wants to protect that information even from his best friend.

"Look, I can't really spare the details. Would it be enough to say that we're back on good terms?"

"How good are these terms?" Max curiously asks wondering if something happened between them.

"Don't get any ideas," Terry scolds as if reading her mind.

"What's wrong with my ideas? It's time you started dating again, Ter."

"First off, she's still with Henry; and second, who appointed you as matchmaker?" He asks as he takes the airport exit.

"First off," Max counters, using the same format he did, "I don't have to be a matchmaker to have an opinion. The last date you went on was, what, two years ago?"

"Three," Terry quietly corrects.

"Yikes. And second, I never suggested you date anyone in particular; I was just making a general statement," she finishes while suspiciously eying him. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Just drop it, Max," Terry replies getting more uncomfortable and wondering why it's taking so long to get to her terminal.

She narrows her eyes as she watching him shift in his seat and avoid her gaze. A sly grin crosses her lips. "Terry…" She prompts, "do you have someone on your mind?" The color that rushes to his face makes her light up with realization. "It's about damn time!" Max gleefully exclaims.

Terry scowls at her before sighing. "Fine, yes, it's true," he confesses as he parks in front of the departure gate.

"Tell me everything!"

"Ooh, sorry, no time," Terry grins. "You're flight leaves in less than an hour."

"How convenient," she grumbles as she gets out of the car. "Expect to explain everything the second I call, got it?" She orders as she watches him unload her luggage.

"Sure, if I haven't changed my number by then," he teases lifting the handle of her suitcase. She gives him a warning look before he pulls her into a parting hug.

"At least tell me when it all started," Max pleads as she pulls away and grabs her bags.

"I would if you had more time," he grins, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"You're a cruel friend," she replies, looking disappointed.

"I know. I'll see you in August."

"Yeah, yeah," she says as she turns and disappears into the building.

Getting back into the car, Terry's smile disappears when he realizes just how complicated the situation is. He wishes Max did have more time so she could help him dissect the issue, and maybe help him get over it; for now though, he tries putting the thoughts behind him and drives off.

She has never hated a long driveway as much as this one. The steps she takes are small, and barely make a mark in the gravel underfoot; but no matter how many she takes, the manor doesn't seem to be getting any closer. Thoughts of how Bruce might react to her visit begin flooding her mind and wiring her nerves. How is she supposed to get her foot in the door? And if she manages that, what's next? Explain what happened? He wouldn't want to hear that. She's not even sure if he'll listen to how she's reached the decision to visit today.

Running into Terry the other day was unexpected, but she is grateful it happened. The darkness that engulfed her receded because of their conversation. Her fear of losing control was replaced with courage and confidence she hasn't felt in months.

'That fear of turning into a monster,' she remembers him saying. 'That's what keeps you human.'

It's a statement that reassured her, that showed he's been through the same thing. However, it also means she shouldn't let herself drown in it, which is why she's pushing herself forward and up the steps to the front door. Tucking the Tupperware under her arm, she raises a finger to ring the doorbell and waits with rising anticipation. It takes a few minutes before the door swings open to reveal Bruce wearing an icy glare that shifts between her face and the container of food under her arm.

"He's not here," he grumbles.

"I'm not here for Terry," Jazz quickly replies, stopping the door from slamming in her face. "I need to talk to you."

For a moment, Bruce's hardened face just stares back wondering why she's standing on the steps with food under her arm and a desperate look on her face. With curiosity getting the better of him, he steps aside to let her through, and leads the way to the kitchen.

"What do you want?" Bruce starts without an invitation to sit.

She sets the food down and begins fiddling with her fingers. "I'm sorry… for everything." His brow twitches at the unexpected apology, but he remains silent. "I didn't mean to cause this much trouble." She lowers her eyes away from his. "I know it looks like I don't care about anyone or anything, but that's not true."

"If you're here to relay a sob story, save your breath and get out."

"Bruce," she firmly replies, lifting her eyes. "I'm not here to explain myself; I'm here to ask you if I can come back."

Her request surprises him, but years of practicing self-restraint stop him from showing it. Instead, he narrows his eyes as he studies her face. Something is different about her this time. She seems to be standing taller, and the light behind her eyes burning brighter as though the kerosene had been refilled. She's a different woman now, but this difference isn't enough to win him over.

"Why?"

"Because I have a debt to repay. What I did was selfish and stupid, but I want to make up for that."

"How do I know you won't run out again?"

"By trusting me," she replies, internally wincing at what she just said. After everything she did to them, asking Bruce of all people should just trust her is like asking a mouse to trust a cat.

Without surprise, he scoffs in reply. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I care about Terry," she replies, surprising him for the last time. "I don't care if that doesn't mean anything to you, but…" she hesitates. "But he means everything to me."

Bruce doesn't pretend he wasn't affected by her statement. He knows it wasn't easy for her to say what she did, but he still has to consider what's good for Terry. Flaky behavior is not something he wants Terry to deal with, but he can't ignore the fact that Terry needs her; after all, he figures she must be the one behind Terry's sudden improvement in performance. He has a difficult decision to make, and although he would love to say no and kick her out, his conscience keeps him silent while he evaluates the situation. The last time he tried to drive Jazz out, it resulted in a back lash from Terry; but when he tried to get Jazz to help him, she was almost ready to run out. He doesn't understand what they want, but a decision has to be made, and he's not about to let these two make it.

A growling stomach draws Terry straight to the manor's kitchen. Hypnotically heading to the fridge, he opens the door and searches for something substantial enough to stop his stomach from caving in. However, as he scans the shelves, his eyes widen when they fall on a food container with a note written in very familiar handwriting. Forgetting his hunger, he sprints out of the kitchen heading towards the cave entrance. He runs down the first few steps before leaping off the staircase and onto the main floor.

He freezes when he realizes the computer is being used by someone hidden behind the high-backed chair. "Jazz?" He hesitantly asks as he takes a step forward.

When the chair slowly spins to face him, his stomach sinks at the sight of Bruce staring back with a placid look on his face. Terry's shoulders slump forward with disappointment as he mumbles an apology.

Bruce turns the chair back to face the console before saying, "she's upstairs."

The statement surprises Terry for a moment before he sprints back up the stairs with the second floor music room in mind. He doesn't need to check the other rooms because he's sure she'll be in there, sitting in front of the grand piano with a frown on her concentrating face as she tries to perfect her scales. So it doesn't come as a surprise when he hears the notes being played behind the closed doors. Drawing a steady breath to compose himself, he pushes the door open and finds her just as he had imagined.

Jazz stops her exercises to look up at him. "Hey," she greets with a small smile.

Somehow, that one word says it all: she's sorry she ever left, she's grateful for everything he's done for her, she won't disappoint him again, and he should stop staring at her and start the lesson already. So, there's only one thing he can say in response to her speech.

"Hi."

- to be continued - reviews welcome -