Jay looked at the sink again as if sheer willpower could make it all disappear. But even though the mess seemed hard to tackle, it was still much easier than to deal with the tangled emotions in his head.

"I'm serious, Jay," she said, her voice softer now. "Don't worry… Just leave it all there," she said, rolling her eyes, knowing pretty well she would have worse things to deal with after he left. The mess and the sink was way low in her priority list.

He nodded, but his posture was still rigid. "Okay," he said flatly. "Sure."

She didn't like the way that "sure" sounded. She knew it pretty well. She studied him closely, the furrow in her brow deepening. "Jay? Talk to me… please…" she said gently. She could see how upset he was. The frustration in his eyes was clear. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head slightly. "You don't have to apologize. This is on me." He said it firmly, with resignation.

Erin stepped closer, her hand twitching at her side. She wanted to reach out but was afraid it would only make everything worse. "I just…" she began, her voice trailing off as she glanced away, searching for the right words. "I just don't want to make things harder than they already are."

His eyes softened, and a faint smile crossed his face. "I know… I don't want to hurt you even more." He paused, letting the silence linger between them. "I'm sorry if it feels like I'm pushing you into something you don't want."

She shook her head. "You know it's not that… it's just not easy. You're leaving… and I don't know—"

"I shouldn't have come here," he interrupted, his voice low and filled with regret. "I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."

"Don't say that," she said quickly, stepping closer. "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad we talked. I just… I just wish we had more time. I wish you didn't have to leave." She hesitated, her words trembling. "I'm still not convinced you'll be okay, and that scares me."

"You don't have to worry about me, Er."

"How, Jay? How am I supposed to not worry about you? Just… please tell me…" she asked, her tone rising with frustration.

He shrugged helplessly, not meeting her eyes.

"Exactly," she said with a small, bitter laugh.

She could see the deep sadness in his eyes and that was enough to disarm her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, then opened them back slowly. He was still staring at her.

After a moment, she stepped toward him, opening her arms. He hugged her, and as their arms wrapped around each other, Jay's mind spun as he realized just how bad their timing had always been. There was always something between them—job, Hank, grief, Bunny, Abby, Hailey—and always their inability to talk about any of it.

He knew this time it was totally on him. But it was really frustrating to realize that they were never really able to simply let go and fully embrace their feelings.

"Let's make the most of the time we have left," she said softly. "Let's do something fun."

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of playful confusion returning to his expression. "What do you have in mind? What kind of fun?"

"Not that," she replied quickly, laughing as she pushed him lightly. She knew exactly where his thoughts had gone—again.

"I said nothing!" he protested with mock innocence, raising his hands.

She smiled, her gaze softening as she looked up at him. "Hhmm… let's watch the game on tv. I miss watching the games with you. Remember when I used to come over to your place, pretending I wanted to watch the game?"

"Pretending?" he asked, a teasing grin forming on his face.

She shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. "I just wanted to be close to you…"

"And yet, you always kept me at arm's distance…"

Her smile faded slightly, and she winced at the reminder. But she met his gaze, her voice quieter now. "Just because I didn't want to lose my job doesn't mean I didn't want to spend time with you."

"It was torture, you know." He chuckled softly.

She laughed, shaking her head. "Oh… Yeah… THAT was torture, uh-huh," she shot back with sarcasm. If that had been torture, what were they doing now?

He laughed along with her. "Okay," he said, his smile lingering. "So let's pretend to watch the game."

With a small smile, she grabbed his hand and led him back to the couch, the weight between them feeling just a bit lighter than before.

They spent over two and a half hours on the couch, absorbed in the game. Cheering, commenting, complaining—he would get completely caught up in the action, jumping out of his seat with every big play, while she became even more animated, talking non-stop about every little detail. Her voice was full of energy as she dissected each move, her excitement blending perfectly with his.

She said she was good when he offered to get her a beer but she sipped from his bottle instead.

He used to think that he was lucky to have a girl that loved sports and shared so many interests with him. His girl.

She couldn't help but drift back in time, trying to remember how they used to celebrate the end of the game—before they were officially together. Because after, the victory would often lead to them getting lost in each other, the adrenaline of the game fueling the passion that always seemed to end with them tangled together on the couch.

He glanced at his watch, the reality of time pulling him back from the haze of the moment. It was already after 5 p.m.

"Er…" His voice wavered slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the clock. "I should probably get going…"

"No…" she protested, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. "You said your flight was only at 11:30 p.m. We still have time…"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I need to get my stuff and change…"

"It's still early, Jay…" she urged, unwilling to let go just yet. "I can order us something to eat later… please…"

He gave her a wry smile, his eyes softening. "Order something? Are you kidding me? I'd much rather eat those lunch leftovers!"

"Really?" she asked, with a proud grin spreading on her face.

"Absolutely."

The two of them fell back into the couch, lingering in the comfort of each other's presence for another hour. Their conversation bounced between deep talks, playful teasing, and bursts of laughter. Every so often, they'd slip into silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

"You still haven't told me about the whole Maggie thing," Jay said, his voice casual but his eyes searching. "When I heard your partner calling you Bell, I pictured this whole other life—married, a couple of kids… I almost walked away."

Erin raised an eyebrow and turned her head toward him. "Couple of kids? For real, Jay?"

He shrugged, a small, sheepish grin tugging at his lips. "Well, it crossed my mind."

"I'm glad you didn't walk away." She shifted slightly on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. "It's not protocol for every agent, but my team deals with some heavy stuff. High-level risks. We do a lot of undercover missions, and we put ourselves in their hands—the people we're after, I mean. They don't just sit back and let us do our jobs. They dig, Jay. They find names, addresses. They go after families, friends—anyone they think will hurt you the most. We've seen it happen too many times before."

Jay's brow furrowed as he processed her words, his fingers brushing absently over the arm of the couch. "So you… just live like that?"

She let out a slow breath, glancing down at the cushion between them. "Coming from the other side of the country, I had no one they could use against me. No family, no ties. I was the perfect candidate. That's why they recruited me so heavily. That's why…" She hesitated, her gaze dropping. "That's why they didn't care about what I was being accused of within the CPD," she added quietly. "And about Bunny."

Jay's head snapped up, his expression sharp. "Bunny?"

"Can we talk about that another time? Please?" she asked gently, her voice softer.

His jaw tensed, and he shook his head as if brushing the topic away. The thought that she'd given up so much to protect Bunny—it was too painful, too heavy to unpack right then.

"I wish we'd talked about that," he said after a pause, his voice low, tinged with regret.

She met his eyes, her own filled with guilt. "I know, Jay. I wish we'd talked about a lot of things… but we just didn't."

"Erin—"

"Not now," she repeated firmly. "Please… Not now."

He nodded reluctantly, and silence settled between them for a while.

"You still do these undercover missions?" he asked after a long moment, his tone lighter.

"Not that often anymore," she said. "Not personally. But we have people on the team who still go under."

"But you still go by Maggie?"

A faint smile touched her lips. "You kind of live that second identity on the job. It's not like in Intelligence, where you just drop it after the operation's over. It becomes a part of you."

"You said I could've gone inside and asked for you."

"It's not like they don't know my name, Jay. I mean, not everyone knows, but if you'd asked about me, someone would've pointed you in the right direction." She paused, as if thinking it through. "Though they probably would've run a whole background check on you first."

Jay smirked faintly. "You don't use your real name at all? Is that why you dropped your coffee when I called you Erin?"

She laughed softly. "Not at work. But I dropped my coffee because I heard your voice—not because I heard my name, silly."

"You knew it was me?"

"Of course I knew it was you."

He shifted slightly, leaning back into the couch cushions, his expression growing more thoughtful. "Your place, your phone… everything's under Bell?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Oh."

"What?"

"That's why I could never track you down."

"That's kind of the point… yeah."

"You just vanished."

It was clear in his eyes that he still couldn't understand why she had never reached out all this time. And if she was being honest to herself, she wasn't even sure why anymore.

Her gaze softened. "I'm really sorry, Jay. I guess I was just lucky you picked the FBI headquarters for your late afternoon jog." She tried to lighten the mood, mentioning his first excuse, knowing pretty well he had waited for her the whole day.

A small chuckle escaped him. "Pretty lucky, yeah."

Jay exhaled slowly, letting her words settle. There was so much they had never talked about. So much they had both walked away from. And yet… here they were. Again. Still drawn to each other.

He glanced at his watch. Too late. And not nearly enough time. She was right, they couldn't simply dive into their past right now.

Without a word, he rose and walked toward the window.

He rested his forehead on the cold glass, trying to steady himself.

Outside, the city seemed to pause. The sun dipped lower, casting a warm, golden light that softened the edges of the concrete buildings.

Trees below swayed slightly in the autumn breeze, their fiery reds and deep oranges glowing under the fading sunlight. The colors seemed almost too vivid, too alive, for a moment that felt so heavy and sad.

"It's beautiful here," he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

"It is," she replied softly, though her words caught on the emotion she tried to swallow. Quickly, she brushed at her cheeks, willing away the evidence of her tears.

When he turned back to look at her, she was still seated, her gaze fixed on him. He raised his hand, a subtle gesture, and nodded for her to join him.

She hesitated, then stood. Each step felt deliberate, heavy, as if she feared what the moment could mean. She was not ready.

As she reached him, her eyes flicked to his, then to the window. Her hands fidgeted briefly before she stilled them. "It's still early," she murmured, her voice just above a whisper. "The sun is still out there."

He stepped closer, slipping his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. His cheek rested against hers as he drew her into a loose embrace, his head tilting just enough to press a small, fleeting kiss to her cheek. She felt the warmth of his breath, the steadiness of his hold.

For a long moment, they simply stood together, the quiet enveloping them. Neither spoke. Neither moved. They just watched as the sky shifted from gold to amber, then to deep hues of orange and pink. The colors played across the horizon, a reminder that this moment—like the sunset—would soon fade.

It was around 7 p.m. when they sat down to eat again, they knew the city was busy outside, with its nonstop noise but inside, the only noise was their own heartbeats.

"I swear I'll dream about eating this every day in Bolivia!" he said, careful with his words this time, taking another bite of the beef Wellington, clearly savoring the flavors.

She smiled at him, her heart swelling with pride. That was exactly what she'd hoped for—to make something he would remember.

"It's not the only thing I've learned to cook, you know," she teased.

"That's really something I never expected!" he responded with a laugh, clearly impressed.

"Hey!" she shot him a mock glare, trying to hold back her grin.

"C'mon, Er… you were able to burn water if I left you alone in the kitchen!" He gave her a playful smirk. "I had to clean tomato sauce off the ceiling once! And let's not even talk about all the times I had to patch you up after you cut or burned yourself…"

She raised both hands, showing him the unblemished skin.

"See? No cuts, no burns," she said proudly, wiggling her fingers for emphasis.

"Impressive!" he said, clearly enjoying her triumph.

But then his gaze dropped to his watch, and the cheerfulness in her eyes seemed to vanish, replaced by a sudden heaviness.

"You sure you don't want me to help you clean this mess?" he asked softly.

"No…" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her face clouded with the weight of what was coming.

"Babe…" His voice trembled, barely above a whisper, but heavy with so much emotion. His heart was shattered, but the cruel tick of time reminded him that he was already late.

"No… Not yet…" She pleaded softly, her voice fragile, as though saying goodbye would shatter her completely. She couldn't bear to let go just yet, not without giving herself a moment longer, not without holding on to him just a little bit more.

He stepped closer, pulling her into a tight embrace, his arms encircling her with a sense of finality, but also of desperation. They stood in silence once more, the weight of everything hanging in the air between them. The minutes passed like hours, their breathing the only sound filling the room. But as she had asked, he didn't say goodbye.

"I… I really have to go now, babe. My flight is in three hours," he said, his voice breaking slightly as he pulled her closer.

She nodded against his chest, her head heavy with sadness, a quiet acceptance in the motion. She gently pulled away and offered him her hand. The walk to the door felt like an eternity, each step heavier than the last. Her heart felt like it was crumbling beneath the pressure of it all.

They stood there, lingering in the doorway, not saying anything, just looking into each other's eyes. The silence was deafening. Both of them had clouded eyes, each struggling not to let the tears fall.

"I feel like I failed you so bad," she whispered, the words barely audible, filled with regret, as if the entire burden of the moment was hers to bear.

"Failed me?" He asked, his voice low with confusion. He didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

"You're still leaving, and I'm still not sure if this is the right move for you… If you're gonna be okay…" she murmured, her voice shaking as the weight of his departure loomed over her.

"I need to go, Er," he said softly, his voice full of sorrow, but resolute. "I need the structure. I need the black and white. The rules. I need to find myself again. And I need to fix all the mistakes I've made."

A single tear slid down her face, catching the light, as if it were a reflection of everything they were both trying so hard not to say, not to feel. Her heart shattered a little more with each word, but she fought the urge to break down completely. She had to be strong… for him.

"You didn't fail me, babe," he said, his voice full of conviction, as though he needed her to believe him. "You gave me exactly what I needed…"

Her brow furrowed, confusion clouding her eyes as she looked up at him. "I gave you… what?"

"You gave me a reason to come back," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Last night, I had to use every ounce of strength in my body not to roll over you and make love to you. But I want to do it the right way. I want to settle things with Hailey, and I want to come back to you. You gave me hope. You gave me a reason to really find myself again and be better… because... because I want to fight… for you… and you deserve better."

His words hit her like a tidal wave, washing away the remnants of her doubts. Hope. That was what she had given him all along, even when he thought it was lost. She hadn't realized it, but she had been giving him pieces of her heart, even in the silence. The love was still there, deeper than ever, waiting for the right time, for both of them to heal and rebuild.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time, they weren't filled with sadness alone. There was something else—something stronger. She didn't know how to put it into words, but in that moment, she realized that they were both still holding onto the hope of a future together. It was just waiting for them to find their way back.

I'll wait for you, she didn't say it, but with the way she looked into his eyes, he was able to read it, as if making a promise, not just to him, but to herself.

She couldn't take it anymore. The weight of everything, the aching pull between them, the unspoken longing—it was all too much.

She sucked in a shaky breath. Screw it. She crashed into him, their lips meeting in a desperate, hungry kiss

The force of it nearly knocked him off balance, but neither of them cared. Time seemed to stop, and in that moment, nothing existed but the feeling of each other—raw, unfiltered, and so desperately needed. He pulled her closer, his hand on the back of her neck. Their lips moved in fierce sync. There were no past or invisible lines. No walls or barriers between them. No ring.

They allowed themselves to get lost in the delicious taste and softness of each other's lips. The roughness of his stubble was scratching her soft skin in a mix of pleasure and pain that she couldn't even describe.

He pushed her slightly against the doorway deepening the kiss even more. They only pulled away when the need for air became too much, both of them breathless and shaking.

"Sorry…" she whispered, but there was not an ounce of sorry in her voice. If anything, she was relieved.

"Don't be…" he breathed, his voice hoarse. The truth was, he had wanted to do it from the moment she turned around after dropping her coffee. The tension between them had been building, and neither of them could fight it any longer.

"Just promise me you'll take care of yourself," she asked, her voice soft, her hand resting against his chest so she could feel his heart beating through his shirt—her shirt. "Please?"

"I will. I promise you," he replied, his gaze steady, full of the sincerity she needed to hear. "And I will come back."

Her heart ached, a mix of hope and fear swirling inside her.

"Can you keep in touch?" she asked, barely above a whisper, her vulnerability laid bare.

"Would you even reply if I write?" His voice cracked, even though he tried to keep it steady.

"Yes… every time," she answered quickly, her voice laced with regret. "I'm sorry for that… for… everything."

"You take care of yourself too, babe," he said, his words lingering between them, more of a promise than a suggestion.

Before she could respond, his phone rang, pulling him out of the moment. He got it from his pocket and glanced down at the screen, expecting to be from work—but it was Hailey's name flashing on the display. His stomach dropped. He closed his eyes for a second then clicked the red button, rejecting the call without hesitation.

"I'll fix this," he said, determination in his voice, but there was no escaping the sadness he saw in her eyes.

He stood there for a second, torn between walking away and staying. He looked at her one last time, his heart heavy with everything unspoken. They had shared so much in the last 27 hours—so much that neither of them could deny. But still, there was so much left unsaid. A moment of silence passed between them.

Screw it, he thought. Who were they trying to fool?

He couldn't walk away like this—not after everything. With a deep breath, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently, tenderly, a kiss that spoke more than words ever could. It was goodbye, yes—but also a promise. A promise that something between them still existed, something that couldn't be erased by time or distance.

It wasn't like the first kiss. It was soft, and gentle. So full of love.

When the kiss broke, he hesitated for a moment, their eyes locking one last time. Then, without another word, he removed his dog tag with his military id from his neck, placing it over her head.

He walked out the door, leaving her standing there, her hand curled tightly around the tag with his name, tears silently falling, but a glimmer of hope was flickering in her chest.