For OQ Happy Ending weekday 5 - cursed world happy ending. It's been a lot of fun to write for Roni and Joe again, even if I did hastily write it this evening! Thank you, Lindsay, for the usual beta! :)

Tell the ones you love that you love them while you still can. That way, should anything happen, that's not a regret you'll have to shoulder day in, day out.

Roni wasn't thinking any of this, not yet, as she wiped down the counter of her beloved bar. She could hear Joe plucking at some guitar strings in the corner of the room, testing the mic for their performer later. There was only so many times he could test it, however, so when Roni calls him over, she tells him so.

"I just want to make sure it's perfect."

She shrugs. "Come help me with these glasses instead."

He picks up a dishcloth and starts drying said glasses. "You know I do love you when you're bossy."

Roni raises a brow. "Bossy is not all I'll be if you test that mic again!" She jokes, leaning over the bar to peck his lips before heading to her office.

He watches her go with a heavy sigh. He's told her he loves her several times, both just like he did and straight up, but she's yet to say anything back. He knows she finds those words hard to say, but he can't deny that it stings a little. Still, he's a patient man and she doesn't have to say it to show it.

The Mad Hatter was the alter ego of a musician who purely went by the name Jefferson, with a reputation for a catchy beat and antagonising everyone around him. Roni knows he's a talented young lad who'll bring the punters, and booked him on a promise that he would keep all the trouble he seems to bring firmly outside her bar. He gave her his absolute word and now, looking at the heaving bar, Roni thinks she's made a good choice.

At least, that's the case until there is a scream from the crowd. He's got a gun! one young attendee tells frantically, causing a mass panic, the crowd running out of any and all exits they can. All Roni can do is make sure her patrons make it out safely and trip the emergency button without making it obvious. Thankfully there's enough of a commotion to mask her actions.

"Oh don't worry," the gunman spits, looking the band up and down. "I'm not here for the riff-raff. I'm here for the star." Accentuating the word with air quotes, he cocks his gun in the direction of the lead singer who, for all his everlasting arrogant air, looks petrified.

"Can't we talk about this?" He asks. "Neal, can we just..?"

"Shut the fuck up." Neal growls, stepping closer to the stage as Roni rounds the bar. "You better stay right where you are, lady," he says, Roni's hands coming up in defence, not daring to make another step.

"Whoa, what the—" Joe's sudden presence from the back room spooks Neal to the point that he lets off a rogue shot, the bullet of which barely misses Roni's leg and ricochets off a metal plate mounted on the bar and elsewhere in the room. Roni puts her hand out to Joe to stop him from coming any closer, a hint which he takes. "What is this about?"

Neal looks genuinely surprised that someone is asking him what's wrong, turning to Joe with a confused look. "What's wrong!?"

"Yes, that's what I said, son." The boy can't be any more than 16, 17 at a push, and he reminds him of himself at that age. Perhaps without the gun in his hand. "What is it? Is it something we can talk about without the gun?"

"No." His steely mask is well and truly back in place. "There is nothing we can talk about." He turns his attention back to Jefferson. "I trusted you, you asshole, now Pan wants his money back."

"I don't have it…" is all Jefferson manages before Neal is stepping forward, as is Joe, slowly moving up behind the boy, with all intentions to grab the weapon from his grasp.

Roni can do nothing but stand and stare, hoping that the police department had received her signal. It looks very possible that Joe could reprehend the child himself, but Jefferson's expression gives it away, Neal's gun pressing directly into Joe's chest.

If he's afraid, then he shows absolutely no sign of it. His breathing is even, his eyes squarely on the boy's. He knows that a moment's hesitation could end up with one or more bodies and he wants none.

"Get back," Neal snarls, pushing the metal a little harder into his torso.

"I'm trying to help you," Joe pleads, hands rising into the air in surrender again.

"How can you help me, huh?" He turns back to Jefferson, waving the loaded weapon about like a toy. "He is who I'm after."

"I was a thief too," he tells Neal and the disbelief on his face is clear to see. "Second chances are what ensures people who have had bad intentions see what they've done, to direct them to the right decision, the right path. I don't really know what this person has done to you, what he's stolen, but you don't need to do this. Don't become what society expects of you."

Neal considers for the most fleeting of seconds, but it turns out it doesn't matter, for Rogers, Weaver and company come bursting through the front door with warning shouts, their guns poised to shoot at the first sign of movement.

It's tense, incredibly so, and there are several long seconds where it could go either way for any of them. Neal looks at his gun, back up to Joe, and lets out a piercing cry as he drops the offending object, letting it clatter to the floor, letting Joe kick it away out of reach, his arms coming around the sobbing teen in comfort.

…

Joe's adrenaline is through the roof, pulsing and coursing through his body as the police cart both Neal and Jefferson away for questioning. Turns out Jefferson had been wanted on a separate charge and the officers had enough to arrest him. He's relaxing on Roni's couch, fingers flexing as he comes down from the surge.

Roni passes him a glass of water (as well as something that bit stronger) and sits in her chair. "I could say that was stupid, or that was reckless," she starts, raking her fingers through her curls, "but Joe, that was… heroic."

He shakes his head. "No, it's what anyone would do."

"With a gun in their face? Hardly."

"It wasn't in my face," he shrugs and she rolls her eyes.

"Close enough."

"He didn't want to shoot him. It was to scare him," Joe explains but Roni shakes her head.

"He had every intention of using it. It was loaded, left a lovely hole in my bar," she winces. "Still, rather the bar than you."

Joe nods. "Sometimes situations aren't as they seem."

"Well, you're very lucky that you're right," she tells him, taking a generous gulp of whisky.

"Luck or otherwise, we're still here and together."

"I love you." Roni blurts it out without thinking and her eyes widen at her own words. "I mean…"

Joe's tumbler is resting on his lips and he's about to take a drink when she says those three words he'd been waiting for. He blinks once, twice, unbelieving in what he's hearing.

"Oh god, don't make me say it again!" She says, hands coming over her eyes.

He laughs, placing his glass on the side and jumping up to embrace Roni. "Go on, say it again."

"Joe!" She drawls before pulling back to look at him. "I love you. I love you a lot."

He kisses her, deeply.

"I love you too, you know."