A/N: LAST CHAPTER. AGGGH. Now I have to come up with a new story! Shoot. Anyways, please review! This is your last chance!

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Eames is sitting on Bobby's couch, nursing a beer, when she hears the door open and gently close. She is flipping through one of his dense, impenetrable books, and feeling slightly irritated.

"Don't you have any James Patterson here?" She asks, without looking up. "Or at least Janet Evanovitch?"

There is no reply. She looks up just as Bobby's weight comes flopping down on the couch next to her. He has a strange, dazed expression on his face.

"I have…Raymond Chandler…" he says in a faraway voice.

"Bobby?" Eames places a warm hand on his arm. "Are you ok? Did something go wrong with Olivet?"

"Of course…" Bobby continues, his voice growing a little stronger, "Raymond Chandler isn't my favorite noir writer, and Phillip Marlowe isn't my favorite detective of that genre. That would have to be Nero Wolfe. The stories were more cohesive, and he relied on brainpower alone to solve crimes. Pure, unadulterated genius. The writing was less literary, but there was better use of advanced language…"

Then he turns to Eames, and a huge grin growing slowly on his face, lighting him up, erasing some of the lines of hurt and age, lifting him up like he is bathed in joy. Eames hasn't seen a smile like that on him…well…ever. Maybe after the first time they made love, in the momentary afterglow, before the doubts set in. That smile delights and thrills her. It isn't the shy smile of triumph he sometimes gets after forcing a confession out of a killer. It's not the sly smile he sometimes gets while he has a killer in his sights, ready to tear him down. It's not even the secretive, slightly embarassed smile he gets when she tells a joke, or shows him some small sign of endearment. This is a real smile of happiness.

"What is it, Bobby??" She asks, now struggling to keep her voice from rising a few octaves. She is excited. No, screw that, she's positively overjoyed to see this smile on her partner's (her lover's, her best friend's) usually reserved face.

"Olivet gave me a total psych clearance," Bobby says, the smile beginning to recede a little. "I talked to Deakins. He gave me back my badge and gun. I can come back to work whenever I feel ready," he says.

"Oh, Bobby, that's great news—" Alex begins, before she is smothered beneath a deep kiss. Bobby buries his hands in her hair, and runs them down her neck, giving her shivers. She starts to respond, placing her arms on his strong shoulders and then grasping him and pulling him down towards her. He breaks off the kiss, and stares into her eyes, and she is overwhelmed at the love and the trust she sees there, above everything. Above the pain and the wariness, and the years of angst, she sees it there. Love and trust.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Bobby asks, his voice husky with emotion. Alex smiles up at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Yes, Bobby, I think I do," she says, and brings one hand down to stroke his cheek. "I think I know exactly how much you love me," she says, "because I love you just as much." A tear makes a trail down on of her cheeks, and she laughs wetly. "If not more."

And then he is kissing her again, and for a while, for a long while, maybe for forever, there is nothing but love. Love, and them.

//

Ok. Phew. That's it. I hope you all enjoyed it, and that the ending wasn't anti-climactic or anything. I may write a sequel to this at some point in my life, but I think a new, fresh storyline is what the doctor ordered for the next effort. Again, thanks for all the support from everyone.