A/N: Here we go; more music. The concert program that Jane and Maura will be listening to is as follows; Rossini: Overture to The Barber of Seville, Ravel: Piano Concerto in G Major, Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 4 in F minor. I encourage you to listen to the pieces, especially the last. Tchaikovsky was a fairly tortured soul; perhaps his most painful secret was his hidden homosexuality. Society's intolerance, especially back then, drove him into a traditional marriage, but his preferences remained unchanged. This piece, his fourth symphony, is a musical representation of a turning point in his life; of facing his daemons. He is one of my favorite composers and this piece is among my absolute favorites. No matter how many times I listen to it...I always manage to hear something new. To all who supplied music suggestions after the last chapter...THANK YOU! I will have fun exploring and finding inspiration in the the works!

Jane and I were both eager to rise this morning and see the sites of London. I have been to the city on numerous occasions, but exploring it with Jane by my side adds a new level of enjoyment.

We spent the entire day going to popular tourist attractions. We visited; Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, London Tower and the London Bridge. We saw the changing of the guard and the crown jewels, then got some great pictures with the royal guards and on the bridge.

We ended our tour at the London Eye and witnessed an amazing view of the city. Jane wanted to go back when the sun had fully set, but I informed her that we had other plans.

These plans began with a small shopping trip to acquire formal wear.

Surprisingly, Jane didn't put up too much of a fight. It helped when I told her she didn't have to wear a dress. I ended up choosing a simple, yet elegant evening gown for myself and Jane picked out a pant suite that fit her form nicely.

We returned to the hotel, showered, and changed for the evening's entertainment.

This brings us to the performance hall of the London Symphony Orchestra.

I took a chance with this. In light of Jane's hidden appreciation for classical music, I did some research on the symphony's season schedule. I could hardly believe it when I discovered that Ravel's piano concerto was on the program for tonight's event.

We are now seated on the floor level off to one side of the hall, toward the back. Visually, the seats are not the best...but acoustically, they're some of the best in the house.

Jane seems genuinely enthused about being here. She asks questions concerning the hall, the ensemble, and the compositions. I happily answer her inquiries to the best of my ability.

Before too long, the lights dim and the concert master takes the stage to begin tuning.

Then, the conductor appears. He takes a bow, faces his orchestra, gives the opening downbeat, and the concert begins.

First up is an overture by Rossini. As the piece's main melodies take shape, I hear a quiet chuckle from Jane and glance over to see a smile on her face. I'd ask her what was so humorous if it weren't highly inappropriate to talk during the performance. The work is short, but very enjoyable.

Next on the program is the Ravel concerto. The pianist walks out on stage and takes his opening bows, then situates himself on the bench. The conductor starts the piece. I hear Jane give a sigh as the work unfolds. She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze before relaxing further into her seat.

The pianist is outstanding; commanding authority over the instrument in front of him, the orchestra, and the audience.

I smile to myself as I remember this piece being played at the hands of my best friend. Jane was so hurt. She had been shattered under the weight of her burdens. She was a shell of her former self. I honestly thought I had lost her.

But now, she's here...with me...holding my hand. She's happy and whole.

I fight back a few tears and give her hand a gentle squeeze of my own.

As the Ravel comes to an end, the audience applauds and gives the soloist a standing ovation.

At intermission, Jane turns to me and begins to excitedly discuss the events so far. My heart swells at her obvious exhilaration. She practically swoons over the soloist's technique and emotive performance. She then goes on to explain that she could picture Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd running around the stage during the overture. The reference is beyond me, but I laugh anyway.

When the break is over the orchestra takes the stage once more and begins the final piece.

I remember the first time I heard this composition; it was an incredibly powerful experience. The first unison chord and rhythmic pattern immediately capture your attention. Other instruments of the wind section join in to add further depth and character to the renowned 'fate motive'. This motive is the seed of the entire symphony. It is representative of the force which impedes the acquisition of complete and untainted peace and happiness.

Tchaikovsky takes his audience on an incredible journey using complex rhythms and harmonies, as well as sweet and triumphant melodies. However, the listener's expedition is interrupted a final time in the last movement when 'fate', once again, intervenes.

In Tchaikovsky's own words...

"Hardly have you managed to forget yourself and to be carried away by the spectacle of the joys of others than irrepressible fate again appears and reminds you of yourself."

The maestro cuts off the final chord and the audience erupts in praise. We are on our feet, providing a standing ovation before the reverberation has a chance to settle in the cavernous room.

I look over at Jane to gauge her reaction to the work...she doesn't return my gaze. She's looking at the stage and clapping, but her mouth is pressed together and I can tell that her thoughts are miles away.

After all of the bows have been taken, the applause dies down and patrons start to file out of the hall. I have to touch Jane's arm to get her attention.

She startles out of whatever trance she has been in and gives me a half smile.

I can't decipher the expression on her face, but it's definitely not the happy or excited one that I had hoped for.

"Are you ready to go?"

She looks around and seems to be surprised at how empty the hall has gotten.

"Oh...sure. Let's get out of here."

We collect our belongings, exit the building, and step out into the night air in silence.

"You wanna walk a little before we head back to the hotel?"

I turn at the sound of her voice. She's not looking at me, but she appears to be a little more relaxed.

Neither one of us is dressed for an excursion, but perhaps a walk would help to further clear her mind.

"I'd love to."

We lace our hands together and begin a leisurely stroll. When it's apparent that Jane is not going to voice her musings, I ask for them.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She finally spares a glance my way. She attempts another smile, but it seems forced and weary.

"Sorry. That last piece just got me thinking." Her eyes return forward

I wait...she doesn't continue.

"...about?"

I see the corner of her mouth quirk in slight amusement at my impatience. However, a frown quickly replaces it as a more serious look overtakes her features. She stops walking and turns toward me, but her eyes drop to the ground.

"Some things just won't change, will they? Some things...difficult things...can't ever completely be put to rest."

It's easy to forget how insightful Jane can be about matters of an artistic nature. She puts up such a disinterested front where such things concerned. I didn't think about the fact that she might pick up on the concept of the fate motive, much less consider how greatly it would affect her if she did.

I understand what she's saying, though. Wounds can heal, but scars remain. Time will pass, memories will fade, and images will blur...but they leave ghostly impressions on our hearts and spirits. This can be a daunting realization and I believe Jane has just reacquainted herself with it for the first time since our trip began.

I place my index finger under her chin and lift it until her eyes lock onto mine, then I press my palm against her cheek. I give her a small smile that I'm sure looks a little sad.

"I love you."

Her question was rhetorical. She already knows the answer to it. So, I simply reassure her of my love.

I hope she hears all of the things that I want to convey with those three simple words;

I will always love you

I will never hurt you

You are my life

My life is yours

My heart is yours

My body is yours

My soul is yours

I am yours

She visibly relaxes and leans her face into my touch, then gives me a dazzling smile. I believe she has heard me.

We face forward once more and resume walking.

"My parents picked me up from boarding school unannounced one weekend. They had never done so before and I remember thinking that something must have been wrong. However, they simply brought me here to London and took me to a ballet. We went out and got gelato afterward. We spent the following few days traveling around the city together. To this day, I do not know what possessed them to do such a thing...but it's one of the best memories I have of my childhood."

I smile at the memory. I don't know what made me share it; it simply popped into my mind.

I can feel her gaze on me, but I keep my eyes forward.

She brings our conjoined hands to her lips and kisses my knuckles then proceeds to rub her thumb across them as we continue walking.

When she speaks, her voice is full of a loving and fierce conviction.

"I love you, Maura. You'll never have to be alone again. Ever."

My mind floods with a thousand thoughts and I am suddenly busy trying to analyze them all. I furrow my brow in concentration and stare down at the walkway. I am happy. I am in love. I am overwhelmed. I am just the tiniest bit skeptical. Could such a wonderful statement be true? Will I really never again have to suffer the crippling loneliness that has plagued my previous years?

I completely lose track of time.

I look up and I'm not sure where we are or how far we've walked. The crowd of people we were traveling through has dwindled to a few people scattered off in the distance. I pull us to a stop and Jane joins me in assessing our location.

She sounds a little uneasy when she speaks.

"Where are we?"

Where, indeed?

"I'm not sure. Let's get back to a main road and hail a cab. I'm getting tired."

We turn around in an attempt to retrace our steps...but our path is blocked.

I feel Jane tense up and she positions herself in front of me.

It takes me a few seconds to actually come to terms with what's happening.

I peek around her shoulder.

A hooded figure is standing just a few feet away...and it's holding a large knife.

My blood runs cold in my veins.

A husky male voice cuts through the night air like a saw cutting through bone.

"Alright, ladies. Bags and jewelry...hand 'em over."

A/N: The end. Ha! Kidding. I know very little about the logistics of London. If I have inaccurately portrayed neighborhoods, I apologize. Also, I think I'm going to make the next chapter M rated. If that's going to be offensive to you PLEASE LET ME KNOW! If it's displeasing, even for just one reader, I will not do it. But I won't know unless you tell me...either leave a comment or PM me. I know the rating on this fic is T and I really don't want to make anyone mad. Thanks so much for reading and for your continued support! -SJR