A/N: Yep, it's me again which means this is another Michael/Jackie fic. I'm sorry, but I may as well confess: I'm a little bit in love with Michael myself. And though I have nothing against Robbie, I do wish there were more Michael/Jackie fics out there and I am really sick of slash, because Robbie/Michael is just plain wrong. So I have decided to write my own. Thanks for all the encouragement I've had on my stories. I'm enjoying myself immensely and it's nice to know that I'm not boring everyone else :)
This is set after the episode Apocalypse.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, if I did this (or something like it) so would have happened...
Safe
The smell of the petrol filled her nose and she hugged the little girl she carried closer to her. The screams of Burns' congregation as they realised that he meant to burn them all alive almost drowned out the sound of the pounding on the door. The banging grew louder as Burns pulled out a cigarette lighter from his pocket...
Jackie woke with a start. It took her a few moments to orientate herself; to realise that she was safe in her own home. That the little girl in her arms was actually one of the cushions from off the couch. It took another moment or two for her to realise that the banging had actually been someone knocking on her door.
She opened the door just as Michael was about to use the spare key she had given him.
He gave an apologetic shrug as he put the key back in his pocket. "You weren't answering your door, I was going to make sure you were ok," he explained.
"I was asleep," she told him. He looked a little embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, Jackie, I should have known. I'll let you get back to sleep."
He made to go but she grabbed hold of his sleeve to stop him. "Don't go, please," Michael turned and regarded her for a long moment before he nodded. She didn't let go of his sleeve until she shut the door behind him, half afraid that he'd leave.
"I came to see how you were, I didn't get much of a chance to speak to you," he told her, coming into her living room. He noted the cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table and frowned.
It was a little known fact about Jackie Reid that when she was really upset, or needed some comfort, it was chocolate that she turned to rather than booze. As such Michael had gotten pretty good at gauging her mood by her level of chocolate consumption.
He counted it as a good sign that, although she'd had a hot chocolate, there were no signs of chocolate bar wrappers.
"I should be checking up on you," she said ruefully, coming in behind him.
Michael grimaced slightly as he touched the gash on his forehead. "Well, perhaps we could both do with a little company," he said, somehow making the statement sound more like a question.
By way of reply she sat down on the couch and indicated that he should join her.
"I'm sorry Jackie," he said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. She looked surprised, "You were right, I was getting a little paranoid about my brother." He sighed, "If I hadn't been so concerned about him I might have been able to come to your rescue."
She was tempted to comment that she didn't need a knight in shining armour, but she recognised that he was not in the mood to be teased.
"It's not your fault Michael," she assured him instead, "if I'd been more observant I would have noticed what was going on before I was locked in that room with the others. We both made a mistake, we're not infallible, Michael," she reminded him.
"We should be when our mistakes could cost lives," he muttered, more to himself than to her, "you all could have burnt in there and I wouldn't have known." He closed his eyes briefly, trying not the think about the charred bodies of those who had not been so lucky; thankful that none of them had been her.
She put a hand on his arm, "Don't forget we could have lost you too," she said softly, shying away from the thought of what might have happened if Stuart hadn't shown up when he did. He gave a small shrug and she pursed her lips.
"That may mean nothing to you," she said firmly, turning his face towards her, "but it means something to me," she told him seriously, blinking back the tears that threatened at the thought of losing him.
"I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you," he told her in return, just as seriously.
She gave him a small smile as a lone tear slipped down her cheek. He wiped it away with the pad of his thumb as he cupped her cheek.
"Well," she said after a long moment, when she had found her voice again, "we both cheated death, I think that calls for a celebration, don't you think?"
Michael didn't answer; he just continued to regard her, stroking her cheek absently. Presently he leaned forward and kissed her.
"Absolutely," he said finally.
She smiled as he pulled her close, planting a kiss on her forehead as he did so. And for the first time since Burns' men had poured out the petrol, she felt safe.