The band stopped playing and a small crowd filed on stage. As Emily appeared in the last group to take their place, Finn felt some of the tension drain from his body.

With purpose, he moved towards her. As did the rest of the people at the party, gathering in front of the raised platform in a teeming sea of bodies. Finn found himself boxed in on all sides. He swallowed his panic and steadied his nerves. Emily was right there. He had eyes on her. No way could he lose her now.

Last in a long line of people, she stood behind an old man taking a microphone from one of the musicians. No sexy green silk this time. Instead, she wore another one of her modest knee-length dresses—this one black. Still, she was radiant in the bright light of the podium. Beside her, looking proud, Lance beamed.

A tall man with jet black hair nestled in on the other side of Emily. With the lack of space on the stage, he angled himself around her. He bent down and whispered something in her ear, touching her arm at the same time. Far too intimately for Finn.

She raised her hand to cover her smile and a small silver object hanging on a chain around her neck caught on the harsh lights, blinding Finn.

How could he have not noticed she still wore his charm? He cursed himself for not paying attention. Her love for him had been right there all along. He recalled many times when Emily played with her necklace, clutching it, moving it back and forth, holding it between her finger and thumb. Why had he not seen it?

Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome was still making Emily laugh, inching closer to her. Was he too late? Emily couldn't have moved on in a few days. Finn must have growled out loud as the woman beside him gave him a raised eyebrow. "Missed dinner," he muttered to cover his blunder.

Attention back on the stage, Mr. TDH's hand gripped Emily's elbow, helping her off the stage and to steady her in those high heels Finn recognized from the night at The Playground. His stomach rolled for the hundredth time over the events of that evening. Like on a ship in a storm, he braced his legs and pushed through the crowd, determined to reach her. He'd make this right.

They headed for the bar and the other man placed his broad hand on the small of her back, below the exposed creamy skin Emily's dress revealed. Finn picked up his pace, veered around people like a high school quarterback running for the winning touchdown. "Em."

Party-goers twisted and stared at his shout. Finn didn't care. This wasn't about what others thought. The only thing he cared about, the only person he cared about drifted away and he needed to paddle faster against the tide.

At last, Finn broke free of the masses and into the corner acting as a makeshift bar. "Em."

Her head jerked in his direction and he desperately hoped the flash of emotion on her face was something akin to excitement at the sight of him. His heart leapt at the quick curve of her lips, then sank as they dipped south. "Finn." Her eyes shifted to his shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"I..." The block of wood in his throat threatened to strangle him. He swallowed and tried again. "Can I talk to you?" Eyes on Emily, he ignored the man who'd stepped behind her. "Alone."

"It's not a good time." Her gaze flickered to his. "I have to practice my speech."

"I only need a few minutes." There he went again, only thinking about himself. "But I can wait."

No one could miss the flinch, her shoulders jumping like a popped kernel of corn. Mr. TDH certainly didn't. "Emily, everything okay?"

The chin he loved lifted and like the calm after a storm, Emily regained her composure. "Yes. Give me a moment to speak to Petty Officer Wainwright."

The formal title grated across his skin, his soul. No Finn. He ignored the cramp in his gut, the one that always foretold danger and followed Emily to the end of the bar, away from the maddening crowd.

Delicate fingers tucked into her sides as she crossed her arms and she studied the floor. He yearned for her pale silver eyes to meet his. For weeks now, she'd spoken to him, silently with her gaze, reassuring him. It was his turn. "I wanted to explain about the other night, at the club."

A small shake of her head paired with a hardening of her jawline. "No need."

He inched forward, freezing when she matched his movement in the opposite direction. "Don't say that. Max said you weren't feeling well." Words he didn't plan flowed from him. As usual, everything got muddled when emotions were at play. Luckily he had a back up plan. The right words written down. "I was...am concerned."

"That's kind of you." The false compassion in her flat statement kicked at Finn. "You needn't worry about me. I'm fine now."

"Em." The damn broke. "This isn't you."

Finally, Finn got what he wanted. She impaled him with a glare, cold tenacity filled her steel-grey pupils. "You don't know me. And I obviously don't know you."

"You do. Better than anyone else. Like no one else."

"Why are you hiding in this dark corner?" Mary sidled up to her sister.

The reception swam in red. Mary. Again. Always. The muscles in his neck constricted. "Go away."

"Unlike you." Mary blinked at him. "I was invited to this party."

The last remaining thread of control snapped. With his full height, he leaned over Mary, forcing her to glare up at him. "I have as much right to be here as you." She put her hand on her hip and opened her mouth to speak. He didn't give her time. "Furthermore, you are interrupting my–" he tapped his chest "--conversation with Emily. That stops here and now. You've interfered way too much in our lives. Go get your own. If you can find anyone willing to spend more than five minutes with you. Leave us alone."

Mary's head jerked back and her lips snapped shut. Color returned to the room and a lightness, almost giddiness played in Finn's chest. At last, after all these years, he'd stood up to the evil older sister.

Emily twisted her sister out of Finn's view. "It's okay. Find us some martinis and I'll join you soon."

The Devil Wears Pink tried to muster an air of arrogance, spun on a heel and strutted off into the crowd. Finn returned to Emily, preparing to get back to the heart of their conversation.

"You really have changed." The grimace on her face popped the balloon of satisfaction under his ribcage. "She looks out for me. Cares."

"I care." The familiar ache in his chest at the denial of his feelings burned.

She snickered. Finn had never seen the disgruntled gesture from his sweet Emily. "When it suits you." The gray eyes he'd spent nights dreaming of bore into him. "How long will I get this time? Of your precious attention. Until your next contract starts and you return to your beloved Navy. A week? One night only?"

"Forever if you'll–"

"Was it all an act?" Her hands flew in the air. "Sleep with the uglier sister because she's easy prey."

"You are not the ugly sister. You're beautiful." His hand reached for her, but she batted it away, ignoring his statement.

Vile words continued to pour from Emily, each one like a bullet to his heart. "Was the plan all along? Have your fun for a summer and slip away the second I'm not looking. Fool the too kindhearted girl. Did you ever even want to come to New Haven with me?"

"It's all I wanted." The desperation in his bellow scared both of them. Emily's chest rose and fell in short, rapid breaths and Finn balled his hands into fists to keep from touching her, holding her, making the pain swimming in her eyes vanish.

"Then why did you leave me?" The crack in her voice on the last word fractured his spirit. Glossy silver begged him for an answer he couldn't give.

"I didn't leave you." A single tear slipped down Emily's cheek and his defences shattered. With a brush of his knuckle he wiped the errant drop away. Tingles dashed from his hand, up his arm to his pounding heart. Finn struggled around the shard of glass in his throat. "You abandoned me."

Her head wobbled back and forth. "Never." She spat the word at him and pivoted away from his touch, swiping at her wet eyes. "I told you in the letter. I had no choice. Begged you not to disappear on me. You didn't wait."

"Wait... What?" He rubbed the smoldering sting in his chest. That wasn't right. Her accusation smashed the perfect picture he'd held on to for eight years and he was having trouble fitting them back together. There were gaps, jagged edges that cut into the fabric of his reality. Finn reached for his inside pocket. "Your letter–"

A hand landed on Emily's shoulder. A hand attached to the man who'd consumed her time the entire party. A hand Finn wanted to sweep away. "I'm sorry to interrupt." Finn glared but the man had the nerve to look contrite. "Mr. Simpson's looking for you."

With a quick nod, professional Emily returned. The version he'd seen every time he'd rebuked her attempts to connect with him since returning to Washington. Every time he'd called her ma'am. The wall of veneer that gave the illusion of harmony but really kept her distant from him. Had he help put up that barrier? A defence she erected to hold the misuse she'd coped with over the last eight years.

"Of course. Speech time." She tilted her head at Finn. ""Go back to the base Finn. Back to your true love."

I love you, whirled in his brain. By the time he choked out the words, he spoke to empty air. Emily had deserted him. Legs unable to support him, buckled. The hard surface of a stool hit his thigh and Finn gripped the edge of the bar to keep from keeling over.

Sirens blared in his head. He couldn't make sense of Emily's words. Or her tears. The room spun around him, the cackle of laughter, the clinking of glasses all at odds with the chaos in his mind. Like figuring out the best way to advance on an enemy target, Finn spun the board around in his head. With all the facts in the air, he plucked out the few that matched, ignoring the tale he'd told himself for years.

The pain he'd seen in her expression could be used as proof she regretted breaking up with him. Or hadn't wanted to break up with him at all.

Lance's explanation of Emily's depression her first year in university. Finn focused on that and reconstructed the story. If she believed he'd abandoned her–a stitch in his side threatened to double him over–that was a possible, almost expected response. He should know, he'd lived it when she'd discarded him.

Lastly, there was his charm. He'd given it to her as a bracelet, too poor to spring for the anchor and a necklace to place it on. She'd not only kept the symbol of their love, but wore it, daily. On a chain over her heart.

What if she hadn't cast him away? What if something else happened?

The ringing in his ears gnawed on his nerves. Until he realized it was the alarm on his phone. A reminder he needed to leave now to get back to base or be found AWOL.

He tossed around the option of being absent without leave. The charges would mar his record. His clean and perfect Navy file. Right now the Navy was the furthest thing from his mind.

Finn summoned courage and scanned the room. Time to sort this out. Find Emily and get the real story. He shut off the alarm and checked the time. If he didn't leave in the next fifteen minutes, he'd be late for the training exercise. Scanning the room, he sought her. No luck. But he did find Lance.

"Did you talk to her?" Lance's smile faded as Finn got closer. "Guess that's a no."

"No. I mean yes. We were interrupted." Finn did another sweep of the room. On the dias, auburn hair caught his eye. She sat on a chair this time, an older man beside her.

"They're starting the speeches." Lance patted Finn on the shoulder. "Settle in, this could take a while."

He cracked his neck. There wasn't time. Never enough time. "I can't stay." He reached into his inside pocket and drew out the envelope, his back up plan. Words always failed him, so he'd written down everything he wanted to say. Included his only proof he'd always loved her. "Give this to Emily for me."

Lance took the held out letter. "As soon as she gets off that stage." Finn attempted to now scowl. "You can trust me."

An ounce of the twenty ton weight on his chest shifted. Lance was a man of his word. Lance was on his side. Lance would get the letter into Emily's hands.

The mission had gone sideways, but he wasn't giving up. Missions didn't always go as planned, but this didn't mean failure. Emily would read his letter and call.

If she still loved him.