A/N: Watching S8E1 this past week, this little one-shot is the result. Seth calls her the "stubbornest" person he ever met, and I began to think about the fact that she probably thinks the same thing about him. Love these characters; I don't own them!

"He really is the most frustrating man I have ever known! He makes Frank look as though he was positively laid back!" Jessica muttered under her breath, before she slung her shoes off, sitting down heavily on the couch in her New York apartment.

She wondered where Seth had gone off to now, as he had tried to follow her earlier and she had refused. Hearing the water turn on, she realized he must be in the bathroom. Tilting her head back against the couch, she allowed her head to relax and her eyes to close as she thought over the last few days.

Jessica had moved this week to New York to teach criminology because she wanted a new challenge. Life in Cabot Cove was wonderful, but never changing. While that was usually comforting and was why she would never move away permanently, she had become restless over the last year or two. She needed…something. Although, she was not sure what exactly. But the allure of teaching again and in the vibrancy of Manhattan, had been too seductive to pass up.

Her plan had been to rent an apartment and to live in New York during the week and fly home most weekends. She had told herself that she would do it for two semesters and then reevaluate.

But Seth had not taken it well. Oh, he didn't tell her not to do it. Not exactly at least. Instead, he had moaned about all the crime and damn it, he had been right. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought her own apartment would have been inhabited by someone who was murdered in the building days before she moved in.

The dear sweet doorman, Ahmed, had filled her in on all the gossip the day she moved in, and while she certainly knew more than the average person about murders, it had unnerved her nonetheless. Perhaps Seth was right and this was a crazy idea to move here. Even on a temporary basis.

But then, she had arrived home yesterday (would it ever feel like home here?) to see her new apartment ransacked and the glass in the picture frame of her favorite photograph with Frank, broken, the glass now in a hundred small pieces covering his handsome face. She had felt as all the air had been forced out of her lungs and it hurt to breathe, and then, lo and behold, Seth arrived at her door! She might have succeeded in shooing him back home to Cabot Cove, if it hadn't been for him taking in the state of her apartment. His bullheadedness kicked in and he became commandeering, and he disregarded every excuse she gave him. He always said she was stubborn! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!

She told him to go to a hotel because she did not have a spare bed in the guest room yet, thinking that would get him to leave. But he refused, saying he would sleep on the couch. By then she had been exasperated with him. Even so, she knew that short of her having security forcefully remove him, he was not going to leave her.

Oh, how she had wanted him to go away! She desperately wanted to curl up on her bed and clutch the picture of Frank to her chest and cry, alone.

And yet…as much as she detested her own weakness, there was a small part of her that wanted to fall into Seth's arms and let him protect her. Just like Frank would have.

No, she was not comparing them. Nor did she think she needed a man to be safe. But oh, it was terribly exhausting to be alone and always taking care of herself. After the initial grief and first year or so had passed after Frank died, she had gotten into a routine, learning how to do the tasks that Frank had handled. There had been a steep learning curve, but she had asked for help from Grady when she needed and had researched things at the library such as basic home repairs and even how to change the inner tube in her bike tire.

She would always miss Frank. But she was delighted to learn that as she figured out how to handle the chores and tasks that were always viewed as those for men in her generation, she had felt proud of herself and strong enough to survive on her own. It had become empowering and as she adjusted, understanding in her core that Frank was never coming back, she had eased quite peacefully into her new life as a successful author from Cabot Cove, Maine.

In her heart of hearts, she knew she would always think of herself in simple terms, as Frank's wife and an English teacher. Somehow, knowing that others saw her as the persona she had created, gave her a shield to protect herself from the outside world though.

But now?

She was exhausted.

Exhausted of being and doing. Always appearing in control and confident. When really, she was fighting so many overwhelming emotions rattling inside her brain.

Just once, she wished she could fall into someone's arms again and let them handle things. Let herself trust someone to take care of her for a change. Was that so bad to long for?

Was New York a bad idea? Would she ever feel safe here? She had serious doubts now, but in the same token, she did not think she could simply quit teaching the criminology classes and return home to Maine. Besides the fact that she signed a contract for two semesters, she had wanted to be here. She never allowed herself to quit anything due to fear.

She knew deep down she could do this. But she was discovering the more time that passed since Frank's death, the more she wondered if she would always be alone. And that was what she feared the most. Because sooner or later, the exhaustion of going it alone may kill her, even if no murderers ever managed to finish her off.

Still hearing the water in the shower run, she allowed a few tears to trail down her face, not bothering to wipe them off. They felt cleansing. She used to think that crying was weakness, but she learned after losing Frank that crying was actually strength, because it acknowledged the emotions she was feeling were valid and the pain was real.

She thought she could nod off on the couch if she was not careful. But she must have for a few brief moments, because suddenly, she jerked awake, feeling a hand on her arm.

"Jess?"

She flew upright, and Seth backed up in surprise.

He was dressed, freshly shaved, and smelling of his cologne, and all Jessica wanted to do was fall into the safety of his arms.

What was wrong with her?

Appalled, she discovered that she could not stop her face from crumpling into tears once again, even as she held her body back from going to him.

He had no such qualms though.

Wordlessly, he walked over to her, pulling her into his arms a bit roughly. She felt him kiss the top of her head, as his arms rubbed her back.

She lost it then. Sobbing into his chest, she heard him murmur shushing and soothing noises as though she were a young child. She felt her knees begin to buckle, which he must have sensed as well, because he shifted them over to the couch, keeping his arms around her tightly, and began to rock her torso against his own.

"I thought…I thought I could do this, Seth," she moaned through the tears. "I'm not afraid…much. But I'm just so…tired. It is exhausting being on my own, having to be on guard, always taking care of myself, and if I hope to have any respect from the opposite sex professionally, I have to maintain my logic and forthrightness at all times, because heaven help me if anyone sees the woman below the surface."

Keeping his hands smoothing up and down and over her back, Seth pulled away enough to look down into her eyes, "Now, Jess, you can cry all you want. But this nonsense about not being able to do something on your own, is all it is, nonsense."

Bewildered, she responded, "But Seth, you are the one reminding me how much crime there is here and telling me to lock my doors, and now you say it's nonsense for me to be afraid that I can't live here?"

"Because that's all it is, Jess. Fear. The monster under the bed at night. You can't give fear any power and you know that. You are the strongest and most intelligent woman I know. Besides, I have never known you to not do anything you really wanted, and despite my own selfish reasons, you made me realize weeks ago that you did in fact, want to do this. So, as your best friend, it is now my job to support and encourage you and not let you give up. You signed a contract and as much as I will miss you during the week, I suppose I could take off a week or two here and there over the next couple of semesters. Just please…don't get any ideas about moving here permanently. Alright?"

"Oh, Seth. You are my best friend. I'm sorry I was churlish before."

"No, not churlish. You only need to spread your wings a bit. Just make sure you remain a homing pigeon and promise to come home to Maine when you are done with your exploring."

"I promise."

"Now, suppose I rustle us up some dinner. I went grocery shopping before when you shot out of here like a bat out of you know where. Does a steak sound good?"

"Sounds wonderful."

Slapping his hands against his thighs, he stood up, before offering her his hand to help her up as well.

Holding onto his arms, Jessica leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"What was that for?"

"Just telling my best friend that I love him and I don't know what I'd do without him."

"Your best friend feels the same way about you, woman. Now, go wash your face, and come join me in the kitchen."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Chuckling, Seth walked into the kitchen to cook their dinner.

Jessica would be alright here. He would make sure of it.