Author's Note: Drawing towards the end of this one now. :) Probably two chapters to go. I'll try not to fill them allll with sex.

Jane was asleep in his arms, naked and relaxed against him, and Kurt would have thought he'd never been happier—if not for the fact that in just two days, he'd be leaving Los Angeles to return to New York.

How was he going to kiss Jane goodbye, knowing it would be the final time, then get on a plane to continue his life, nearly two and a half thousand miles from her?

He loved New York. The fast pace, the skyline, the way there was always something going on… He spent most of his life at work, but the job was rewarding in a way he doubted most people ever felt about their vocation. If he'd had the choice after Mayfair's death, he never would have stepped up to fill her shoes, but now he was here, as much as he hated the political side of things, he took satisfaction from knowing that he could stop the NYO from going down the path of the CIA. And he knew Mayfair would approve.

But Jane was here.

He pressed his nose against her hair, soaking in every bit of her presence: her scent, her warmth against him, the curve of her cheekbone and the way her bird tattoo—the only original one she seemed to have kept intact—looked ready to fly from her skin into the room. He could still taste her on his lips. He knew the way she sounded as pleasure made her tremble from the inside out. He'd never forget the way it felt to bury his cock deep inside her as she came around him.

But there was so much more he loved about Jane than just sex. She was the perfect juxtaposition of toughness and vulnerability, with resourcefulness and determination that never failed to impress him. And she cared about people, whether they were strangers in need or beloved friends. Injustice enraged her as much as it did him. Sometimes it was difficult to remember her confidence when it came to personal matters was much lower than her overall attitude suggested. He certainly hadn't taken it into account when it came to letting her move away unchallenged, all those years ago.

No one else in the world made him feel the way Jane did. He sensed, deep down in his soul, that if soulmates existed, Jane was his. And though she hadn't returned his confession of love earlier, he was almost certain she felt just as strongly about him.

Almost.

He closed his eyes, trying not to dwell on the future while she was in his arms, recovering from the most emotionally resonant sex he'd ever experienced. God, he loved her so much. How could he walk away from this? Were his attachments to a job and a city anywhere near what he felt for Jane?

She murmured something in her sleep and snuggled closer, and as her breath tickled his neck with every exhalation, he knew he couldn't give her up.

If she didn't throw him out in the morning—and he didn't think she would—he'd tell her he was willing to move to California to be with her. She was more important to him than anything. If she would give him a chance, he'd do anything to keep her.

When Jane woke to the realisation that someone was holding her in her sleep, her first reaction was a flash of dismay. Had she had another drunken one-night stand with a man she had no intention of keeping around past breakfast time? She'd sworn never again, after the last guy had raged and called her an unfeeling slut when she'd told him she wasn't interested in continuing their acquaintance, but alcohol and sexual frustration weren't exactly compatible with logic.

Then she breathed in, and everything came rushing back as Kurt's familiar scent registered. And the unmistakable smell of sex.

Kurt Weller is in my bed. Is this some kind of alternate universe?

He was spooned up against her back, and by the slow, even breaths he was taking, she could tell he was asleep. She didn't want to wake him if he needed to rest, but shifted slightly to see if she could easily turn over to watch him.

Kurt stirred, then yawned against her shoulder, and Jane couldn't help but smile. Of course he'd wake up. He's Kurt. He's like my own personal guard dog sometimes.

"Sorry," she said quietly, turning over the rest of the way to face him. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

He smiled, opening one eye. "Disturb me whenever you like."

Jane kissed him, still half asleep herself. Warm, slow, sleepy kisses under the covers with Kurt—she could get used to this kind of thing.

Then she remembered, and pulled back with a sigh.

Kurt stroked his hand down her arm. "You okay?"

She tried a smile. "Yeah. Just…thinking."

A flash of understanding crossed his face. "Wasn't I supposed to be keeping you from thinking tonight?"

Before she could reply, he turned over and leaned out of the bed, then slid whatever was in his hand under the pillow—the rest of his condoms, she suspected. The image of him driving inside her again derailed her previous train of thought.

"Kurt—"

He kissed her with enough fire to chase the remnants of sleep from the corners of her brain, drawing her tightly against him. Jane drew back, breathless, to find him considering her with obvious lust. "What are you planning?"

"Right now, it would probably be quicker to tell you what I'm not planning." He gave her a quick, mischievous grin before rolling her onto her front. Leaning over her, he trailed kisses over her upper back, where her lighthouse tattoo now covered the last traces of his name inked into her skin. Jane closed her eyes and enjoyed his touch, her heartbeat quickening as he stroked his hand down her spine, past her tailbone and over her ass. When he dipped his fingers between her thighs, she gave a soft moan to spur him on.

"The lighthouse is beautiful." There was a wistful note in his voice that tugged at her emotions, even as he didn't stop teasing her. He kissed the newer tattoo again, sliding a finger carefully into her.

Jane knew she shouldn't say it, but she couldn't help herself. The idea that he might think she had erased his name because he was no longer important to her was unbearable. "The lighthouse is you."

His hand faltered for a second, but then he added a second finger to her depths, continuing to pleasure her as she arched and rubbed her clit against the bed. "Jane…"

She gasped and clutched the pillow, tilting her hips against every thrust of his fingers. "You… You're the light that guides me. When I can't see the way forward, I think of you."

Her face was turned from him, and she'd have to disrupt her rhythm to look at him right now, but she sensed his surprise. He trailed kisses over her shoulders, nuzzled her neck, kissed the spot right below her ear that made her shiver. His voice was low and heartfelt as he told her, "I love you so much."

Jane came with a half-sob, both hands tearing at the pillow as the climax shuddered through her. As she tried to re-orient herself, she heard the extremely welcome sound of a condom wrapper tearing, then Kurt was holding her close again, his lips on the back of her neck as he turned her onto her side and slid into her from behind.

This time it was quick, dirty; her foot hooked behind his thigh to keep her legs apart as he slammed into her. A second orgasm hit her only a minute after the first, his perfect angle triggering the tingling, clenching response as she gasped his name. He wasted no time after that, his movements urgent jolts as he followed her over the edge.

Afterwards, once he'd dealt with the condom, he traced the outline of the lighthouse on her back with his finger. She sensed his silent wonder that she'd remove his name, but replace it with something she associated with him anyway. As soon as she got back enough strength in her limbs to move, she turned over to face him.

"Jane…" He shook his head. "I don't know what to say."

It's pretty obvious by now. No point in holding it back any longer. Then why was she still so nervous about saying it? "I love you."

His expression didn't change much—just the hint of a smile curving his lips—but his eyes…they communicated everything his face didn't. Joy, love, relief… Then he kissed her as though he was claiming her, almost territorial as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips, between kisses. "God, I love you."

How was she supposed to let this man walk out of her life again? Jane buried her face in his chest, wishing the moment wasn't so bittersweet. Now she had to choose between the man who felt like home to her, and the home she'd built for herself here. The idea of abandoning her new studio saddened her, but if she went back to New York, maybe she could go back to the Bureau, make a difference in people's lives again. Being a tattoo artist had been something she'd fallen into, never her true passion.

And she'd be with Kurt. Really with him, the way she'd always dreamed.

But she'd be giving up her proximity to Patterson, the few new friendships she'd cultivated over the past five years, the California sun and beaches…

When he tilted up her chin to look into her eyes, he immediately saw the tears gathering in them. "Jane…"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm happy, I really am. I just…don't want to lose this."

He kissed her forehead gently. "You don't have to. If you really want to stay here, I'll see if I can transfer somewhere nearby. You're more important to me than anything else."

Jane stared at him, completely taken aback. She'd assumed the NYO was so important to him that everything else—even her—was secondary, but here he was, offering to change his entire life for her. Putting her, and what she wanted, first. Could she really let him do that? "Kurt…"

"We don't have to decide now. But whatever happens, we'll be together. That's the only thing I want right now." The look on his face was intense, sincere, and sexy as hell without meaning to be.

She shouldn't be thinking about sex again already, especially not when such an important decision lay before them, but she just couldn't help herself.

"There's something else I want," she told him, and crushed her lips against his as she pulled him on top of her.