Author's Note: I own nothing. This is a story I wrote immediately after the season finale, because, awesome though it (the finale) was, FUCK THAT kiss between Zed and Jim. This story is not related to Mercury or Antiquing.

She knows she's made a mistake the very second she doesn't walk out of that bar to run and chase him, to tell him she is sorry, to tell him that Jim kissed her, not the other way around. She curses inwardly as Jim smiles at her. He is a good man. He is a kind man. But he is not John. And it's too late now.

John ends up in some pub on Barracks Street. He's drinking too much, he knows, even for him, but cannot make himself stop. Too much bourbon and too many cigarettes, and he doesn't refuse when a coffee-skinned, curly-haired woman asks to sit next to him. She is not Zed, but she looks like her, and that's going to have to be enough for tonight, and when she grins coyly at him and asks him to buy her a drink, he does.

In the morning, when Zed knocks at the door to wake him, she is greeted by a woman whose eyeliner has run, giving her a slightly racoon-ish look, curly hair frizzy, wearing a bedsheet.

"Oh. Um, hey," Zed says. "Is John awake? We have to get going, or we're going to miss our flight."

The other woman – Zed cannot help but notice their resemblance to one another – grins and bites her lip, turning around to look at the sleeping form on the bed.

"John," she says. "So that's his name." She turns back and looks at Zed, that same cat-like smile still on her face, and Zed would very much like to backhand it off. "I'll get him up. I'll have him meet you in the lobby, okay?" She shuts the door before Zed can respond.

Zed turns and strides back next door to her own room, slamming the door behind her.

Why. Why? This isn't Corrigan's fault, and yet it is. He is a man who knows he is about to die, and she can't blame him for wanting to live life to the fullest and make every moment count. But did he have to do it right as John walked in?

There is a knock at the door. John. Zed hurries to the door to answer it, an apology forming on her lips as she opens the door to see – the woman. Still smiling that motherfucking smile.

"He says he's going to catch a later flight," she says.

"Oh." Zed stands there for a moment, unable to think of anything to say, and instead, she takes a finger and flicks the door shut. Then she goes back into the room, seizes a pillow on the bed, and proceeds to beat the mattress with it.

Zed relates everything that happened to Chas when she gets back. She tries to explain the kiss, explain how bad she feels, but the words come out muddled and wrong.

"Zed," Chas says gently, passing her a mug of tea, "It's going to be okay."

She's thinking of the time that John told her she was easy on the eyes. She should have said something back, something flirtatious, something to indicate that she was interested, and instead, she had only said, "Wish I could say the same."

This would be so much easier if this was a situation where she could blame him for not having worked fast enough and asked her out. But all she can think about now are the times he has openly flirted with her, expressed interest, and she shot him down. How could she do that, so many times, and the second Jim leaned to kiss her, she didn't have the sense to tell him no? That he was a nice man, but that it wasn't going to happen?

She sips the tea. "I don't really even have feelings for Jim," she tells him.

Chas pats her hand in support. "It'll all blow over. Wait and see."

John walks into the mill three days later. Zed is in her bedroom when he comes in. He grunts a hello to Chas and dumps his duffel bag in the living room. Zed rushes into the living room to say hello, but right as she gets in, she hears his door click shut, and then the pipes creak, indicating he is getting in the shower. Silently, she goes back to her room and shuts the door softly, climbs beneath the covers, and pretends to sleep in hopes that maybe it will work and she can actually get some rest. It doesn't.

The next morning, when she wanders into the kitchen, John is there, frying up an egg. He hears her come in without turning around, and his shoulders stiffen slightly, but he says nothing.

"Morning," Zed tells him.

"Morning," he forces himself to say cheerfully.

And so this is how the next few weeks go. They are awkward around one another now; the closeness they had been enjoying since her hospital stay is gone.

He is exceedingly, unnaturally polite to her, and Zed hates it because she misses his old, cocky self who said what was on his mind and said more than three words to her at once.

If this keeps up, she is going to have to move out. She can't bear to not speak to him anymore. Chas hasn't said anything to her, but she sees the anxious looks he has on his face whenever he is in the room with them, trapped in the middle.

Zed goes to pick up groceries. John has just said goodbye to his latest conquest, and strolls back into the mill, flopping down on the couch.

"You need to talk to Zed," Chas tells him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," John answers, staring up at the ceiling.

"Don't be a fool, John. She told me about what happened with Jim. She said he kissed her, and she doesn't feel the same way about him. You need to quit holding it against her."
"I'm not!" John barks out, annoyed. "She'd be better off with him, anyway. Stick with me, and she'll be dead before summer."

Chas walks over to the couch and stares down at his friend. "If that's really the case, then let her go be with him. If not, quit sleeping with every woman you can find, get yourself cleaned up, stop acting like a sulky mop and go get her, for God's sake. When was the last time you shaved?"

He had a point.

"Is that what you want? Would you really rather her go be with Jim than you?"

"Did you call me a sulky mop?"

"John. Just tell her how you feel."

When Zed gets back, Chas is gone and John is nowhere to be seen. Sighing, she takes the groceries out of the sack and puts them on the counter, before putting them up. She is running on autopilot. Carrots go in the fridge. Bread goes on the counter. Soup cans go in the pantry. The puts these up robotically.

She hears the scuff of John's shoes on the floor and turns around. He looks good, freshly showered and shaven, smells like fresh soap and is standing there, hands in his pockets, leaning in the doorway.

"Hey," she says, and smiles at him for the first time in what seems like days.

"Hello," he answers back.

"Where's Chas?"

"Off to go spend the weekend with his daughter."

She nods. "Oh." Looking down at the remaining groceries, she holds up a can. "You hungry?"

He shakes his head, and takes a few steps forward, looking down at his feet. "Do you want to go back to New Orleans, spend some time with Jim Corrigan?" For the first time in weeks, he looks her in the eye.

"Of course not," she says. "John, he kissed me. I didn't ask for that. I mean, yeah, he's a nice guy and everything, and I'm terrified that something's going to happen to him like I've seen in my visions, but..." she shakes her head. "There's nothing there."

He nods, takes another step forward, and he is close to her now, inches away, invading her personal space, and she is not moving.

"John," Zed says softly. It is not a protest.

He places a hand on her hip, leaning over her, and then rests his forehead where her neck meets her shoulder, just resting there. Zed can't help the small smile that comes to her lips. She strokes the back of his neck tenderly, and then freezes when she feels him kiss her neck. Freezes, but does not stiffen. John takes this as a good sign, and moves upward, small kisses across her jawline. He stops for just a moment, giving her the opportunity to say no.

She doesn't.

He kisses her, grip tightening a little on Zed's hip, and she has her eyes closed and she kisses him back, a hand moving around his lower back. He draws them together more tightly, kissing harder now, walking her backwards until they bump into the fridge, and still they are kissing. Against the fridge, his hand slides down her thigh, hooking her leg up against his hip, and her arm is around his neck, and they are kissing, kissing, sliding into some world where nothing matters except for the heat of his mouth against hers.

Minutes, or perhaps hours later, they break apart, breathing hard. She looks up at him, and his eyes are dark, with lust, and the beginnings of some emotion that scares her, more than just a little, but she's not one to run away. He leans his forehead against hers, hands resting on her shoulders, and they catch their breaths.

"I don't know what's going to happen, where this is going to go. I do know that watching you with Corrigan pissed me off."

She swallows. "I didn't kiss him back. And he doesn't kiss the way you do."

"Damn right he doesn't."

She smiles, and he kisses her again.