Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
Rating: Down and dirty M, baby.
Summary: What if Kate goes to meet Jack after he leaves in "Something Nice Back Home"? Will she get the apology she's looking for or something else?
Dedication: To Marie, who is my constant, and to all the other members on . I don't know what I would do if it weren't for all of you!
Author's Note: This is loosely modeled after the Julia Roberts/Clive Owen fight in "Closer." If you haven't seen it, please do. Also, this is kind of dark, so please be aware if you don't like that kind of thing!
Kate POV
I've been thinking about coming here for a while now. As I sit in my car across from his small, ranch-style house I can't help but feel dread washing over me. I want to drive off, but something isn't allowing me to leave.
I watch as he shuffles around his living room. His head is down and he's moving slowly, almost as if he's in some kind of stupor. I start to tear up as I see him sit down on the couch, completely alone.
I slowly unbuckle my seat belt. I take a deep breath and open the door, the cool LA breeze sliding across my face. I hit the "Lock" button on my key ring and walk across the street and up his driveway, the click of my high heels echoing through the desolate neighborhood.
As I approach the front door I'm trying to tell myself to turn around before it's too late. I'm attempting to convince myself that what I'm doing is foolish and rash and that I'll only regret it later. Like always, though, some unexplainable force is pulling me closer and I just can't resist it.
I never could, really. No matter how many times I tried to run from him I always came back. And no matter how many times I did something wrong he always forgave me, even if I didn't necessarily deserve it. I've always loved him for that, and now that he's gone again I feel the loss every day.
I knock on the door and freak when I realize that I don't know what I'm going to say. I've never been this nervous to see him and I can feel my palms start to sweat. I straighten my shoulders and wait but there's no answer. I knock again and finally I hear a muffled "I'm coming" from inside the house. My heart races faster with every step he takes closer to the door and when he opens it, I try to look poised and in control.
My face falls at the sight of him. He's still holding that damn beer can and his facial hair has grown longer. This is not the man that I fell in love with and it kills me to see him this way.
"Hey, Jack," I say. He takes a swig out of the can and steps back, lifting his arm to allow me entrance. I gingerly step into the apartment and survey the surroundings, noticing right away one of the paintings that had been in our home lying on the floor and covered in dust, abandoned.
He shuts the door and stands there, indelibly concentrated on his drink.
"Nice place," I offer flatly, completely insincere.
He laughs, then. It's hollow and empty and when he looks at me, I'm completely taken aback at the deadness in his eyes.
"What do you want, Kate?" he asks.
I look around the room and adjust my purse on my arm, fingering my keys in my hand.
"I've been thinking about you, Jack. I was worried and just wanted to make sure you were OK," I reply. He laughs again and something about the way he does it makes me increasingly uncomfortable. I need to get out of here, now.
"This was a bad idea. I should go," I squeak out. I start to make my way to the door but he grabs my arm and pushes me up against it. The beer falls to the ground, splashing everywhere. His breath is hot on my face and as much as I don't want to, I react.
"No, Kate. You came to see how I'm doing and I'm here to tell you," he sneered. He leaned back enough to sweep his hand across the room.
"Welcome to my humble abode. As you can see, my decorator never showed up. Thankfully, the hospital cut my hours and you're not around anymore so I've had plenty of time to contemplate a color scheme."
He leans into me more and I have to bite my lip to not moan. My body is reacting without my command and Jack knows it. He takes the bag off my shoulder and throws it to the ground, his hand sliding back up my arm and grasping my shoulder tightly. It vaguely reminds me of that time all those years ago when he switched our backpacks in the jungle.
God, it's like a different lifetime.
"You can't make this about me, Jack. You're the one who walked out," I seethe. I try to push him away from me but my comment only makes him more worked up.
"I just have one question for you, Kate. One thing and then I'll let you go," he whispers. "Did you scream for him like you screamed for me? Was he as good as me?"
The tone of his voice makes me wet, but I wish with everything in me that it didn't. I struggle against him, trying with all my might to push him away but he's too strong and too solid against me.
"Jack, don't do this…" I say weakly. He sticks his hands into the lapels of my coat and pushes it gently off my shoulders so it falls to the floor next to my bag, his hands warm despite his steely demeanor.
"I need to hear it, Kate. Did he make you come as hard as I did?"
He starts unbuttoning my blouse and I bring my hands up to stop him but he pushes them down. I put them back against the door for leverage and lock my knees so I don't fall down.
"I won't…" I whisper again as he undoes the last button. The shirt falls open and exposes my black lace bra and tight stomach, my muscles shaking with anticipation. He puts his hands on my waist and bends down, kissing along the edges of the fabric. His one hand reaches up and pulls my one breast out of the cup and massages it roughly, forcing me to cry out.
"Tell me, Kate. Did he make you feel like this? Could he make you feel this hot?" he asks.
"Jack, please don't do this…" I sigh as his mouth latches onto my nipple, sucking hard. My hands come up and grab his head, my fingers sliding through his too-long hair. The beard is an interesting sensation, one that makes this whole experience feel brand new.
He moves his other hand inside my jeans, roughly shoving my underwear aside to thrust one finger inside me. I moan loudly and grip his head a little tighter, nearly falling to the floor.
"Say it, Kate. Dammit, I need you to answer me," he answers against my breast. He sticks another finger inside of me and pumps furiously, completely unforgiving. He bites down onto my nipple again and for some reason, that knocks me out of my passion-induced haze. I work up enough force to push his head away from me, which causes him to fall back.
His eyes are dark, but for a moment I can see the old Jack. The Jack that drank wine with me, that would bring me a towel after I was done with my shower; the Jack that would read to Aaron and make love to me over and over throughout the night. Who I see now is only a shell of that man and I wish that he would come back.
"Why do you need to hear it, Jack? My thing with Sawyer was nearly two and a half years ago. If you can't handle that then that's your problem, not mine." I start to re-button my blouse but he comes up to me and shoves them away again. Before I know it, he grabs both of my legs so they wrap around him and brings me over to the sorry excuse of a coffee table, laying me down on it.
"I need to hear it, Kate," he starts. He unbuttons my jeans and slides the zipper down. "Because every once in a while I would think to myself, 'God… what if it's him that she's picturing right now? What if she wishes he were here fucking her instead of me?'" He pulls my underwear and jeans down and throws them onto the nearby couch.
"Jack," I whisper, as a tear falls down my cheek. "Don't do this to yourself. It was never like that."
He unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down to his knees. He leans over me and for the first time all night, he kisses me. The beard is like sandpaper on my skin but I don't back away. I feel a tear fall onto my eyelid and realize that he's also crying, trying so hard to maintain control. I grab his face in my hands and kiss him back, my tongue delving into his mouth over and over again.
He breaks the kiss and lifts me up off the coffee table. Our eyes lock as I settle onto his hardness, sliding down inch by blissful inch. I bite my lip on the way down but I never break eye contact. I don't know when the next time is that I'll see him and I need to remember as much of this as possible. What started out as a tete-a-tete has now turned into the most somber goodbye I've ever had to endure.
I kiss him again, our tears mingling together as I slide up and down his shaft, our bodies moving in a rhythm that we'd perfected long ago. He grips my waist and helps me move, over and over and over again as euphoria overwhelms me. The more frantic pace of his movements tells me he's close, so he reaches down to my clit and rubs in circular motions over and over again.
I start to shake as my orgasm hits me hard and fast. I hold onto him for dear life as he follows right after me, his head dropping to my shoulder, his hands clinging to me. When we both come to, he helps me stand and we dress silently. I fix my hair and wipe the tears from my eyes as I make my way over to the door. I lean over to grab my purse and coat and try as I may, I can't stop these damn tears from falling.
I put my coat on and throw my bag over my shoulder. Against my better judgment I turn around and go to him, hugging him tightly. I pull away and kiss him on the forehead, pausing for a moment to wipe the tears from his own face.
"I love you, Jack. That's all that matters. Please don't ever forget that," I whisper to him.
Without another thought I turn away from him, open the door, and walk out.
The End