And this is the end. Sorry it's taken me awhile, I've just had a bit of a block, and no time, honestly. I've had the very last part in my head since the beginning, it's part of what inspired the story.

Please, drop a review, I could use a smile right about now.

He'd shown up at her door not 10 hours after they had spoken on the phone and she had revealed exactly what he had been feeling for 10 years. He greeted her with a poorly thought out "Hey, Sam."

And she said nothing.

Not one word.

He wasn't sure what he expected. Possibly tears, possibly anger, or (and he only allowed himself to think it now that he knew she was fine) even possibly dead. But not silence.

Not a girl who simply walked away from him, leaving the door open, maybe an invitation, maybe just not caring anymore. He took it as the former, stepping into the bare apartment and shutting the door behind himself.

"Sam?" he called, his voice echoing in the empty space. She had disappeared, he assumed to the kitchen, wherever it was. "Sam?"

She suddenly reappeared, a bottle of something clear, but definitely not water, in hand. "Where the hell do you get off comin' here, huh? What is this?" she was already showing the effects of what was in her bottle.

"I just came…" he paused, took a breath. "I came to make sure you were ok."

"Oh yeah! I'm just fine and goddamn dandy! Life is just a basket of roses." Now she paused, staring at him while taking a swig of her drink. "What what make you think otherwise?"

"Stop it." he stepped forward, reaching out to grab the bottle from her. "Can't we have one conversation where you're not drunk off your ass?"

"No." she answered simply, snatching back the bottle.

"Sam," gently, he pried the bottle from her hands and set it at the floor at his feet. "I also came here to talk to you. I know it's about ten years overdue, but..." She cut him off, not with words, but with a shove past him, toward the closed door. "Where are you going?"

"Out." Even the single word was unsteady, echoed by the slamming of the door. Without stopping to think, he went after her (maybe he was making up for when he didn't.). He glanced around the hallway; she was gone. Disappeared to God knows where, like she always did.

It crossed his mind to give up. Why should he keep trying? She didn't want him- that much was clear. Maybe he ought to just leave her in her misery; after all, she was choosing it for herself. Why was it his business?

The answer showed itself almost as soon as the question ended. He loved her.

Duh.

He tried to think of where an already drunk Sam would go when avoiding him. California, apparently. He thought wryly, stepping on to the elevator.

The elevator.

The memories he'd been avoiding came rushing back, and he held back tears. This was all so messed up. They shouldn't be in California. Or, maybe they should, but they shouldn't be angry, but rather, spending a second honeymoon... It shouldn't be like this.

Dammit, it was so hard! H knew what he wanted, thought he knew what she wanted. So why couldn't they just sit and talk about it? It could lead to them being together, being happy. But it could also lead to the official end of their friendship. He still always thought of her has one of his best friends, even after ten years.

It was all so confusing. As upset as he'd been, he could admit he saw an appeal in having a drink right now. Besides, if he got a drink, it might give her a little time to cool down. She needed it. Hell, if he was being honest, he needed a little time too. It had all happened so fast… What the hell? It was California after all.

He made a quick search for the nearest bar to the building, finding it was only a half-block away. How had he not noticed when he got here?

Reaching the lobby, he nodded at the polite doorman (maybe it wasn't so much like Bushwell.) and left, taking a right out of the building toward the bar. It was called Puzzles, and looked just like a typical bar. Except, it wasn't. It would be the only bar that at eleven o'clock in the morning would contain Freddie Benson. He ordered a beer nervously, retreating to a dark corner. Maybe he could sort things out in his head. He slid into the booth, taken by surprise at how soft the leather was. Cushiony, too. Almost like… a bed.

And once the thought of a bed entered his mind, the weight of having been awake for at least 24 hours hit him. Hard. I'll just lay here for a minute… he thought, and promptly fell asleep. It would be hours before he was woken up by the very girl he had been dreaming about.

"The hell? Freddie…Is that... Is that you?" she began to shake him, and he shot up.

"I'm not sleeping!"

"Uh, yeah, you were." she laughed.

"Sam?" he rubbed his eyes, both trying to wipe away the sleep and wondering if the girl in front of him was real. "What are you doing here? What time is it?"

"I came to get a drink." she slid across from him. "Or several. And it's almost ten."

"PM?" it was all starting to come back to him. He was in California, trying to win her back. But… she hated him again. Why was she talking to him?"

"PM." She confirmed. "Now, we both know drinking is nothing new for me. The question is what are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd give it a shot." he joked weakly. He glanced at his forgotten, untouched beer. He started to reach toward it, but she stopped him

"Uh-uh. Flat as crap. Here," she placed a half-finished beer in front of him. "You can have the rest of mine. I'll get another." she started to slide away.

"No, wait. Don't go.

"Freddie, if you were any good at stopping me from leaving, we wouldn't be here." she grabbed his old drink and walked away, he could only hope she'd come back. Thank God, she did, two more beers in tow. "So." she said, taking a swig of one of them. "Wanna tell me why the hell you're in California?"

"I wanted to come find you. I love you, Sam. And I'm tired of living without you."

"It's too late for that now."

"It's never too late."

"Yes it is. Besides, you're fine without me. Probably better, actually." she stared down at the weathered wooden table.

"What happened to us? We were…we were meant to be. But look at us now."

"I don't know. One day everything was fine, and the next everything went to shit."

"Wait, I know what happened. You left."

"No, you let me."

They were both quiet. After a few moments, he began to speak.

"Why now?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"No, you can't. I came now because you called me, and I was scared you had…" he trailed off. "Never mind. But the point is, you're the one picked now out of the air. So I repeat: Why now?"

She said nothing, just pulled a picture out of her back pocket. "Here." she slid it across the table.

His breath caught when he saw it. Saw them. They had been so happy. But that fell apart, not six months after the photo was taken.

"I remember this." he couldn't help the smile. "That was the same day we got…" he touched the spot under his shirt where the cross still hung. It was a bit unorthodox, but they didn't mind. Instead of getting promise rings, or purity rings, they bought matching crosses, a reminder to both to stay faithful to each- other, and God.

He had. Whether she had too, or not, he didn't know. But he wasn't going to ask.

"I know." she touched her own shirt, signaling she still had hers.

They were quiet again, both lost in their own thoughts.

After a moment, she broke the silence. "Did you really mean what you said? That we had screwed up?"

He swallowed. "Yeah, I did." he said hoarsely. They wouldn't look at each other, it made things more real.

She leaned her head against the back of the booth, closing her eyes. Damn him. "We did screw up, didn't we? We were in love. Why didn't we think it was enough?"

"Believe it or not, I know the answer." His eyes drifted up, to her face.

She sat forward, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze. "Do you now?"

"Yeah. It was because we tried to be what we weren't. Perfect. With all the crap we went through to be together, neither of us wanted to mess it up. We had all this pressure, and in trying to keep our relationship from caving in, we let ourselves as individuals crumble. And we thought that since that had happened, what was the point? We weren't really happy anymore. We weren't Sam and Freddie. We were Seddie. And that's what really got us. We didn't think we were good enough to be that."

She was stunned. Yes, he was smart. Yes, he often talked funny and made her want to punch him. But it had to be the most profound thing she had ever heard him, or anyone, for that matter, say. "That's it. That's exactly it." she leaned back again, but kept her eyes open, cast toward the ceiling. "Why were we so stupid? Why did we care so much about everyone else?"

He shrugged. "We were seventeen. We didn't know any better."

"God, I wish we had."

"Me too."

"Can I… Can I say something? You know, without you hurting me after?" she didn't laugh, only nodded. "It's almost…funny."

Her head snapped forward."Funny?" she hissed, voice cold as ice.

"Yeah. We let striving for what we thought was perfection ruin something that was perfect in its own way. We balanced each other out, and before we started to worry, we were happy. At least, I was." he sighed. "I was so in love with you. Well, I still am, but that's not what we're talking about now."

She took a minute before she spoke. "I was happy too. We may have fought, but…. the make-ups were worth it."

He chuckled. "Got that right."

"And I am too."

"You…"

"But it doesn't matter. We're different people now. We've got different lives. Tomorrow morning you're gonna get on a plane and go back to Connecticut, and I'm gonna go back to… well, not much. But still. We missed our chance. The more I think about it, I start to think that maybe it's too late for us."

"It's never too late.

"Freddie…"

"I'm serious. You and I are meant to be. I wish it hadn't taken so long to figure it out again, but at least we did."

"No we didn't. Meant to be and all that fate crap…. it's just that. Crap. It doesn't mean anything. I've already lost you once. I don't want to go through that again." Why couldn't he see it?

"Maybe we wouldn't. We'll never know if we don't try. C'mon Sam. Take this chance on us."

She slid out of the booth, frustrated. I can't do this right now!" she shouted.

They stared at one another, both pairs of eyes pretty cold. His a little warmer, heated with hope.

"Last call." the bartender's voice interrupted the tenseness of the moment.

Freddie glanced at his watch. "Aww, crap. It's one thirty. I just… came out here. I didn't think. I've got no place to stay, and it's too late to get a hotel." He looked up at her worriedly. "What am I gonna do?"

She swallowed hard, and held out her hand. "It's never too late, Freddie. You can stay with me."

With a smile, he took her hand, weaving his fingers through hers.

It's never too late for love.