Author's notes: Thank you to Jane Doe51, LouiseKurylo, Wolfhound159, mayzee, MissDonnie for their reviews of the last chapter. I chapter from Jane's point of view was requested so that will be coming up. I hope you enjoy this one.
He's still attempting to kiss her as she closes the door on him. She turns and leans against it and looks at the boxes stacked against the wall, a symbol of the biggest mistake she almost made in her life. She licks at her lips capturing the last taste of his kiss and then her features return to the smile that hasn't left her face since their first kiss. She realises her cheeks actually ache. Marcus never made her feel like this. She cares deeply for him and she's sad to hurt him, but its better this way. They wouldn't have made it together and he doesn't deserve second best. That's what she told him during the most difficult phone call she's ever had to make. But she's not going to dwell on that, he wasn't very courteous about it, and who can blame him, she'd accepted his wedding proposal just four hours earlier.
While waiting for the airport authorities to allow her to see Jane she'd called him, deciding it was best to get it over with, plus there was a plane she wasn't on. No matter how things went with Jane, she knew she shouldn't marry Marcus. He'd thought she was joking, at first, which was awkward. Then he'd pleaded before getting angry, she was glad the airport official interrupted and she had to end the call. She'll text when he's had time to calm down.
She pushes herself off the door and looks at the keys in her hand, Jane's plan may not have gone entirely to plan, but without the trip to Miami, the keys would be handed back to the landlord and her things on their way to DC. She shakes her head and her smile grows wider. Instead she's still here, her things are still here, and Patrick Jane loves her!
She'd been so mad at him, playing games, manipulating her, not thinking about her feelings at all. She hated leaving the way she did, but she couldn't bear to look at him, even hearing him breathe on the other side of the door was turning her stomach into knots. But then he appeared on the plane, confessing his love, baring his soul. No underhand tactics, no manipulation, no trying to get her to stay. Just Patrick telling her his feelings, wanting her to know, to understand, whether it was too late, or not, whether she stayed, or not.
And she wasn't staying, she meant it when she said it was too late, but as he was led away by security, as he disappeared from her view, she realised, he was part of her, that without him, she wasn't whole, that she couldn't, wouldn't be happy, if he wasn't in her life. She almost laughed out loud, she'd experienced it often enough before that it wasn't really a revelation, but she'd buried it deep to keep herself safe.
Her mind takes her back to facing him across the detention centre table. She unknowingly bites her lip at the memory of his smile as she told him that she felt the same. A mixture of happiness, relief, vulnerability and hope. She loved him even more. A warm thrill passes through her body, she shakes herself out of her revelry she needs to get on. She needs to empty her bag and pack some new things, he's waiting for her at his airstream. Tomorrow they will start unpacking, again. Tonight she doesn't even have sheets on the bed.
As she passes the kitchen she spies the box she left on the counter and detours in. She'd hummed and ahhh'd all about what to do with his letters. She couldn't really take them with her, could she? But she couldn't throw them away. In the end she'd decided to leave them on the counter, leave it to fate as to whether the moving men picked them up or not. Deniability, her best friend!
She opens the box and traces her fingers along the edges of the letters and then picks up one of the turquoise fragments that now shared the space. Why hasn't she been able to bring herself to dispose of these? She doesn't know, but she's glad she didn't. She picks up another piece that's caught her eye and places it against the other, they fit, perfectly. She fingers through the rest and finds the next piece, it fits again, no little holes showing daylight. Soon she's tried every piece and can't believe that the cup broke so perfectly. An idea forms and she closes the box, knowing now why she kept the pieces.