Well, here we are. I . . . I'm really nervous about this ending, to be honest. It took me by complete surprise, but also to my surprise, I ended up really liking it, and I hope you guys do, too. One final thanks must go out to mscangel2 for her timeline and silent cheerleading, and this story would not be nearly as good without lawand_disorder's incredible talents at beta reading (and also, occasionally reading my mind, as scary as that can be).

And of course, the biggest thanks go to you, my readers, without whom this story wouldn't have been nearly as much fun to write and post. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I ultimately enjoyed writing it.

November 21, 2013, post Children in Need special, Chris' London flat

Yet again, there was silence.

Only this one was exasperated.

By now, Robin knew to expect things to end on a . . . well, not to be melodramatic, but a cliffhanger. Though even for Chris, this was a doozy. It didn't top the 'packing up the house' one, but it could definitely be considered a photo finish.

And from his friend's faintly chagrinned expression, he was well-aware of that.

Still, seeing as Robin's part in this . . . well, 'this' . . . was firmly established by now, he merely sighed and shook his head. "So, how'd that end?" he asked with only a little sarcasm. He was proud of himself for that achievement, for the obvious reasons, and Chris bit his lip, shaking his head and letting out a rueful laugh.

Then again, could the situation get any more ridiculous?

"Nothing," Chris said quietly, inadvertently answering his rhetorical question and proving beyond a doubt that there was no end to how absurd things could get. "She hugged me and we talked a little about the unusual fluidity of the leaderboard that year, and then we went to bed and didn't get a wink of sleep."

It was to everyone's credit that Robin knew what he meant. Of course the couple hadn't had sex, but Jayne's little cleansing of the soul had definitely shifted something between the pair, drawing them closer even as they tried — and failed — to ease themselves apart, for their own sanity.

Those efforts hadn't lasted a week, though, and by the time 2012 came around, it was once more plain to the world at large why everyone and their pet rock thought Torvill and Dean were a couple.

Including them, at times.

And with her getting that cyst . . .

"So when she got that cyst and finally realized what it was, what happened?"

He asked this a lot less delicately than he'd intended, but his curiosity was simply too strong. And, to be frank, his patience was just about gone. Chris blinked at his bluntness but answered readily. "Well, other than me being a worse mother hen than usual because she was hurt? Nothing much . . . other than Phil not bothering to do more than call during the whole wretched time," he spat, eyes blazing with remembered fury. An astonished Robin could only blink. Her husband hadn't even come up for the operation?!

"Why?" he gasped, unable to articulate more than that and grateful that Chris knew him so well.

"To this day, I don't have a clue," he replied in a tight, clipped voice. "Jayne still hadn't made a decision, but that was the last straw for her. She moved out as soon as she physically could, but she didn't file any paperwork or tell the kids. And I guess he groveled enough for her to believe he meant it, because she moved back just before training started again."

His voice was full of pain now, and Robin nodded, his chest tight with empathy. Personally, he couldn't begin to understand how torn Chris must have felt, wanting to be with the woman he loved while not wanting her to destroy her life for him.

Still . . . Jayne had gone back to Phil?

"I really don't know," Chris replied in answer to his expression, since he hadn't actually said that out loud. "I'll never know why she decided to give it another go, and I don't think I'll ever ask. But we couldn't tour the next year — thank you, insurance — which gave us time to look at some other things."

"Like Piers Morgan," Robin filled in, nodding as that small mystery was finally settled. The pair loathed doing those kinds of interviews, and Piers Morgan wasn't remotely afraid to dig deeply into the personal. He wasn't mean or rude about it, but he wasn't shy, either.

Chris nodded in return. "And the Children in Need thing. It also gave us the chance to really look our lives on a professional level and make some practical decisions there."

Like the one to end DOI, which they'd only told the producers, Mark, and Robin about a month ago. Nothing official had been announced and Robin and Mark had only been chosen because of their positions: Head Judge and Head Coach (someone having finally learned from the Karen Debacle of 2011). He was sad, of course, but understood. And he'd be lying if he said there weren't other things he wanted to try as well. It was the right decision, and a good time for it.

"So we limped along all last year and this year, because there wasn't any way to make a simple, clear-cut decision. Not for Jayne," Chris said abruptly, startling Robin back to the present. "We wanted to be with each other and had both acknowledged it, but Jayne . . . she was, she is, less and less sure about Phil, but 'not sure' isn't enough of a reason for her to walk away from everything. And I hate it, but that's Jayne. And I'm her partner and best friend and will be until I die, regardless of anything else, so that's what I've been. That's all I've been."

Indeed. Longing, heated looks and some seriously romantic songs aside, that's what everyone had seen.

It was enough to make a grown man cry, sometimes. Especially one who knew what Robin knew — and that was before this conversation.

"But everything changed the day we did Piers Morgan," came the hushed confession, and Robin blinked. He actually needed a minute of silence to absorb that, because it wasn't remotely what he'd expected to hear.

"I — why?" he finally asked very carefully, his eyes locked on his friend's profile as Chris rose and started pacing.

"Because not only did Phil not agree to any kind of interview," the other man began, his body tense with anger, "but he refused to even come to the taping. Everyone knew that Jayne would be emotional before it was done, and he just abandoned her! And you know, we could have dealt with that, because he never talks to anyone or comes to things if he can help it, but he had the nerve to give her grief afterwards, because she let me comfort her on live TV and 'embarrassed him'."

That last sentence was actually a snarl, and Robin agreed wholeheartedly. It was a wonder Chris hadn't finally snapped and put Phil in hospital. But you know, it explained why Chris had let slip that they'd kissed once. A blatant lie? Well, yes. But one that was designed to tweak Phil's nose.

Come to think of it, Karen hadn't been too thrilled, either, though she'd done a decent job of playing along.

And that was a question Robin would never ask, not even on pain of death. He had not the slightest desire to speed that situation along, regardless of its conclusion.

Also, the use of 'we' had not gone unnoticed, though he managed to keep his reaction confined to raised eyebrows. Chris hadn't even noticed what he'd said, which . . . well, of course he hadn't. As far as Christopher Dean was concerned, he belonged to Jayne Torvill and she to him, so course they'd face things — whatever those things happened to be — as one entity.

"Oh, she was furious," Chris explained, yet again completely unware of Robin's mental realization, pacing for several steps and then stopping in front of the fridge so he could lean against it, looking almost feral now. "She stayed because she knew if she left, she'd come to me and we'd end up . . . yeah. But we won't, we can't. We can't. But she didn't want to be alone. So . . . so she moved into the guest room for a while, trying to reconcile things, and from what she said later, she'd almost convinced herself she'd overreacted when we started working on this Children in Need thing. Do you know, he actually refused to sign the contract because it stipulated that Jayne and I would dance together? They finally had to re-word it so it didn't explicitly include or exclude the possibility, he was that adamant about it."

Robin blinked.

And then he blinked again.

Well. Okay. No wonder Jayne hadn't been wearing her wedding ring these last few months. Oh! So that was why Chris had actually been snippy on DOI for the first time in anyone's memory. Incongruously, he hoped Phil appreciated the man's restraint. And the strength of his feelings for Jayne.

"Of course, he didn't come to that, either, but her phone was buzzing the second we got off the floor," Chris spat, starting to pace again . . . and once again, he was pacing out Fields of Gold.

Robin was suddenly very nervous.

"And . . . and I don't know what happened next," the other man whispered, slowing to a crawl and giving Robin a beseeching look. "It's been two days and I haven't heard a word."

On cue — and so apropos that Robin almost choked on sudden laughter — Chris' mobile pinged and he almost broke his neck skidding across the kitchen to grab it. He'd actually gotten the receiver to his mouth before he realized it was a text message, and his expression was so pitiful that Robin had to smother his laugh in his hand. Hazel eyes flicked over the text once, twice . . . and then a smile so genuinely happy came to his lips that Robin got a lump in his throat.

"She's on her way," Chris whispered, hugging the mobile to his chest and cradling it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Because in that moment, it was.

And it was time for him to go.

With a soft grunt, he rose and put his glass in the sink before going to Chris' side and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Good luck," he said with complete sincerity. "And thank you."

Hazel had brightened to green with happiness and Chris looked ten years younger, his eyes crinkling with joy as he gave Robin a quick hug before loping out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, banging noises were emanating from the sitting room and Robin shook his head, a smile coming to his lips.

He wanted to stay, to see what was about to happen, but . . . no. No, it wasn't for him. And after thirty-eight years, they deserved every last second they could get.

He ducked out of the flat without saying anything; Chris would understand. Once in the hall, he gave the lift a speculative look, but then wondered if the stairs would be better for his nervous energy. Proving that God does indeed have a sense of humor, his decision was made when a soft ding heralded the arrival of the lift on Chris' floor. He instinctively ducked into the stairwell, rolling his eyes at himself even as he did it . . . and then thanked his lucky stars for his instincts when he glanced through the tiny window and saw Jayne step through the opening. She had a suitcase and duffle bag with her, and looked so nervous that his hands started to sweat.

Her hesitation lasted only a minute before she strode determinedly to Chris' door and knocked. After making sure she would neither see nor hear him if he was careful, Robin eased open the stairwell door and craned his neck, listening with every fiber of his being and praying that he was right.

"Jayne."

Chris sounded so . . . so hopeful, it hurt.

But she was his partner, his best friend, and his safe harbor, and he was drowning, too.

"Chris," she murmured back, her voice just as full of hope. But there was also so much love that tears sprang to Robin's eyes. Again. "I'm . . . I want to come home."

Silence.

Robin finally couldn't stand it and carefully peered around the door . . . and broke into a smile so big and bright, his mouth hurt.

They were in each other's arms, holding on like they'd float away if they didn't and kissing so fiercely, flames had sprung to life in the air around them. When they finally broke apart, it was only far enough to allow them to breathe and Chris looked positively radiant as he said, "I'm here, Jayne. And you are home."

Not another word was spoken as they gathered her things and she stepped through the door, but then, what was left to say? This love story of theirs, thirty years strong, was finally entering the penultimate chapter and all was right in the world.

And if Robin Cousins whistled Fields of Gold as he made his way down the stairs and out into the late afternoon sunshine, well . . . yes, yes, he did.

After all, who was he to argue with the King and Queen of the Ice?

But he'd better be the Best Man — or Maid of Honor; he wasn't picky.

He also wasn't naïve. There would be trouble ahead, for all of them. But when it came, they'd face the music.

And dance.

~~~
fin