So, if you haven't watched the season finale yet, I would suggest not reading further because well, it would essentially ruin the ending for you. This is probably the fastest I've ever written something after an episode so I hope it's up to the usual standard. I hope you all enjoy! And join the campaign to get Moonlight its much deserved second season; there's still so much to explore!

Thank you to 2whimsical and LaFemmeJB for calling me on my misquote of Mick. I rewatched the scene quite a few times but I only have myself to blame for not being more careful, so thank you! And you to everyone for your reviews and kind words. After my crazy week, it really does make me feel all warm inside.

Spoilers: Episode 1x16, "Sonata"
Disclaimers: Moonlight is not owned by me; I'm just playing around with the wonderful characters we've been given.

I'm scared, what more can I say? That night on the roof, I accused Mick of being a coward, but tonight I'm the coward. For months he's been telling me that it never ends well, that it's complicated. And I've always responded by telling him it's a bunch of crap—he was running, plain and simple. I knew what I was getting myself into when I insisted on giving this relationship a try but I never imagined that complicated meant a world of freshies and tribunal vampire councils, secrets that I'd kill for and marriages that literally lasted forever. The bottom line is, complicated is a lot scarier than I had bargained for.

"I don't think I can do this anymore." He can probably hear the way my heart is skipping beats and perhaps even sense the tears that I try so desperately to keep in check. He stares at me, as if in disbelief, and I wonder how I find the strength not to break down and let loose the turbulence of all the emotions crashing inside me. The silence between us is big and ugly and anything but quiet. A thousand words rise to the front of my mind, unbidden. Things I've been waiting to tell him, things I'll never get the chance to say to him now. I can tell he feels the same way. He thinks he's good at masking his feelings but I see impulses racing across his features and warring for dominance. It's as if we're experiencing eternity, letting time crawl by us as we engage in a battle of wills. We're muted, voiceless, and I wonder if this is how he felt with Coraline. Is this what he meant when he said 33 years felt like a long time?

Finally, he turns and bolts out the open door. At human speed. And even then, it takes me a moment to register his action and what it means for us. It's over. It's really over. Numbly, I make myself walk to the door and push it closed. I don't even bother looking out to see how far he's gotten. The tears start slipping down my face in scalding rivulets. How is it that I could never find the guts to break things off with Josh but when it came to fight or flight with Mick, I was more than ready to run? I know he cares about me but the more I see of his world, the more something in me whispers let go, let go, let go. I am not ready. I am terrified, confused, and so many other things. I know that I want to find a way to make things work between us and I know I would do anything to keep his secret safe but I don't know much else and I don't know if all that is enough. I don't know why my head tells me to stay and why my heart tells me to run after him, and I don't know why part of me feels relieved and why a bigger part of me feels empty. Least of all, I don't know the world seems to stop when I hear the thumps of someone banging on the door.

How much time has passed? A minute? An hour? Could it be Mick out there? I feel a flare of wild hope but the fear of disappointment keeps me rooted in place. When the door bangs open anyway, I know right away it's Mick. I lift my head from the wall, not even realizing how tense I am until he begins to speak.

"You wanna know what Emma and Jackson made me realize? That you were right. You were right all along. This isn't about being a vampire. Or a human. This is about us, and how we feel about one another, right here, right now."

He speaks with such conviction that I ache to feel his arms around me, but I need to be sure first. I need to know. "The night that we first met—or met again, whatever… What was I wearing?"

There is a hesitation and I tell myself that he's deliberating not on the silliness and absurdity of my question but on what to say, how to respond. He doesn't disappoint. "Blue jeans, white striped shirt, cream jacket," he says without faltering.

I whirl around. "What about my shoes?" Not caring if he hears the urgency in my voice, wanting him to hear it.

A ghost of a smile tugs his lips upwards. "You were barefoot."

"How could you remember that?" I know the answer but I want to hear him say it. I will him to say the words I want him to say. I know he can—that's why he came back.

"Because I love you."

He loves me. Mick loves me. All of a sudden, I'm breathing again and things don't seem so lopsided and messy between us. We can't do everything together like Emma and Jackson but we have love. We have love and that's enough for now.

This time, our lips barely graze before I feel the shivers gliding up my arms and back. There might as well be butterflies everywhere. Barely a second later, his lips are on mine and it's like coming home at last. I taste the sweetness of his love and the ferocity of his passion and I know it's not just the heat of the moment. The barriers are disappearing, breaking down. And when they're gone, when there's no more space between us, I do want to be able to make the choice. To make that choice.