Hey guys!

Thanks so much to everyone who read, favorited, followed and reviewed this little fic of mine! I'd like to start off with saying that every single review is cherished dearly, and because I'm still kind of a newbie at this website, I'm not really sure how to address the anonymous Guest reviews. Until I can figure out an efficient way to address them directly, I'd like to thank all you Anons who were kind enough to leave a review! Hopefully I haven't disappointed any of you guys, and that you continue reading and supporting the small boat that is the S.S Joe/Abby. All the love and support doesn't go unappreciated, and I would like to personally tell you how much it really means to me that you took the time to read this little 6-part One-Shot! I can assure you, there will be more, so keep an eye out for updates on this same fic ;) Happy reading, and enjoy this wrap-up for Barcelona!

"Hey, trooper."

Joe turned around. Abby smiled at him– a bandaged, bruised, and tired Joe Solomon smiled back, albeit slightly painful.

"Guess I won't be needing these, then?" Abby said, leaning off of the doorframe and sauntering his way with a bouquet of wilting flowers hanging from her hand. He looked oddly defenseless and vulnerable like that, shirtless and with a large wrapping of bandage and gauze covering the upper part of his right shoulder. Other than the wound that made Abby's chest twinge, he was looking pretty chipper for a guy who had just taken a bullet for his best friend.

"You bought me flowers. How thoughtful." He gave her a wry smile, nodding to the steadily increasing number of flowers that were gathered by his bedside. "Matt already dropped off some roses. Read the card."

Abby placed her flowers among the rest, picking up a cluster of roses that had a card hanging from it. She read it aloud, bemused.

"Sorry for your loss: R.I.P Joe Solomon's good bowling arm. Har."

Joe laughed. There was a bit of pull on his voice, a strain that indicated the lingering pain from the surgery. She sat at the edge of his bed, eyeing the bandage around his shoulder with curiosity and dampening guilt.

"How are you holding up?" She asked, nodding to his wound. He looked down at it as if he had forgotten; he moved his arm slightly in each direction to display his mobility. "It's actually not too bad," He said, a great deal of conviction in his hoarse voice. "Although I'll be off duty for a little while. That paperwork on my desk should be clearing up pretty soon."

Abby smiled. Joe Solomon was a lot of things– an amazing operative, a smooth talker, an enigma, a man. The entirety of his covert career couldn't have amounted to the courage she saw him muster then, to cover up for the regret and reluctance that she could barely detect in his voice. He was a field agent, above all things, and like a sailor needs the sea, Joe Solomon needed the field. He lived and breathed danger and adventure, as any other agent did when they caught a dose of the excitement that awaited them. Joe Solomon was a bird that had given up its wings for Abby to keep on flying. For that, she was grateful.

"Hey, Joe?" She found a tautness in her voice as she spoke. He looked at her, green eyes attentive.

"Thank you. I know you put a lot on the line for me the other day, and I..."

Joe waved at her, cutting her off. "Stop."

Abby was bewildered. "Stop what?"

"This," He said, gesturing to the air as if it held the answer. "This whole 'thank you' speech. Forget it. Forget all of it." He looked at her, genuine and serious. She felt something come over her, a wave of affection and admiration for the man before her as he said, "You don't have to thank me. You don't have to say anything. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't change anything. I'd do it all again."

And just when Joe Solomon had thought he had endured enough shock to last him a lifetime, Abby leaned in and kissed him.