A/N: The scenes contained under this title, are in no way related to each other. They are simply what various episodes of series 4 of Judge John Deed inspired me to write. This is my proposed interlude between episodes 2 and 3 of series 4 of Judge John Deed.
A couple of days after the end of the trial that had almost been forced to continue without a jury, John was sitting in his chambers, long after Coope had gone home. Under the guise of going through the papers for an upcoming trial, he was sitting at his desk, staring into space. Had Jo been right? Had his unwillingness to go back on a principle caused a young prostitute to die? He didn't know. He didn't want to believe that Jo was right and she'd said that things were often said in the heat of the moment that weren't really true, but she hadn't been entirely sincere when she'd said that. She'd meant to blame him, and now all he could do was blame himself. What he really needed was a pair of arms, a soft, female body to lose himself in, but there didn't appear to be one readily available, and he didn't have the energy to go out and look for one.
When the knock came on the door of his chambers, he looked up surprised. Who on earth could be visiting him here in the early evening? "Come in," He called, fervently hoping that it wasn't Ian Rochester. "I thought I might find you here," George said coming into the room. "This is a surprise," John said, getting to his feet and walking over to her. "Well, you weren't at the digs," She said, kissing his cheek. "So I thought I'd try here." The brief smile he'd shown on seeing her hadn't quite reached his eyes. "Where's lover boy this evening?" John asked, moving to sit back down behind his desk, which George immediately saw as a sign that he was trying to maintain his emotional equilibrium. "He's in London, and as you backed out on me last week, I thought I would take advantage of my free evening." When he didn't answer, she could tell that something was badly wrong. "John, are you all right?" She asked, moving a little closer to him. "I am trying to come to terms with the fact that I am highly culpable in the death of a witness," He snapped at her. "All because I refused to abandon my principle of conducting a thoroughly open and honest trial. So no, George, I am not all right." Walking over to stand beside him, she turned his face towards her. "You didn't kill her, John," She said quietly but firmly. "So you are not responsible for her death. Yes, you made a decision which you now regret, but that doesn't mean that you are to blame." "Jo thinks I am," He said, removing her hand from his cheek and holding it in his. "And that means you should automatically agree with her, does it?" "I just feel...Oh, I don't know," He said with a shrug. She could see that he wanted her closer to him, but that he didn't know how to ask. "This must be bad," She said with a slight smile. "Because in spite of the position you are currently in, you haven't once looked at my cleavage." "I can do, if it would make you feel better," He said silkily. She could feel his words creeping over her skin in the way they always had when he'd been trying to pull her, heightening every one of her senses. He saw her eyes widen when he said this, and wondered if she might be up for making his evening far more pleasurable than he'd thought it would be. She made no protest when he rose to his feet and put his arms round her, because she knew she needed his comfort just as much as he needed hers. It seemed far too long since she'd had his arms round her, not in fact since that truly horrific day when they'd thought Charlie was dead. "Is lover boy really away this evening?" He asked into her hair. "John," She said, moving her face back slightly to look at him. "I don't want to talk about Neil." "Good," He said softly, gradually moving his face closer to hers.
When their lips eventually met, it almost knocked the breath out of both of them. They hadn't been so close for so many years, but they could both remember just how good it had once been. Their tastes were so familiar, so understood, that it felt as though they were coming home. All the fights, all the tears, none of it mattered in that initial moment of recapture. He pressed her to him as her arms wound round his neck, feeling every contour of her body aligning itself with his. As one they moved over to the sofa, lips refusing to let go. When he pulled her down beside him, he moved a hand to the cleavage she had accused him of ignoring. George gasped as his hand connected with her flesh, feeling every movement, even through her clothing. She could feel her internal muscles twitch as his thumb grazed over her nipple, making her wonder just where all her self-control had gone. But when his hand moved to the buttons of her blouse, she detached her lips from his, and stopped his hand in its tracks. "What?" he gently asked, surprised at her preventing him from taking this further. "Tell me why you want this?" "You are incredibly beautiful, and we both appear to feel like it," He said succinctly. "What other reason is there?" "That's not all," She told him, not willing to let him get away with it. "Start talking to me," She continued. "And I might just agree to it, because I want this as much as you do." Seeing that he would have to do this if he wanted to really make love to her, John tried to phrase how he was really feeling. "I feel quite, miserable," He said, hesitating over the word and refusing to meet her gaze. "I know," She said softly. "And shall I understand miserable to mean both lonely and depressed?" "Don't even think of doing this out of pity, George," He said strongly, which made her laugh. "John, I've never done anything out of pity in my life," She said with a broad smile. "And I'm not about to start now." "Is it such a crime, to want to feel good about something?" He asked, feeling utterly transparent to her. "No, of course it's not," She said, leaning over to kiss him. "See," She said, leading his hand back to the buttons of her blouse. "It wasn't that difficult, now was it." Refusing to agree with her, John resumed where he'd left off.
They made fast work of each other's clothes, their hands reacquainting themselves with the familiar textures of each other's skin. "Why did I ever let you go?" He asked, his scattered clothes joining hers on the floor. "Sh," She said as they lay on the sofa. "Don't go into all that now." He softly stroked her small but perfect breasts, teasing at her hardening nipples. "So," He said, his voice becoming deeper with arousal. "Aren't you going to tell me why you want this?" "Perhaps I need to feel good about something too," She said, her enormous blue eyes telling him that this was the absolute truth. Deciding to leave the many questions he had until later, he trailed his hand down over the extremely narrow waist, and lightly rested it on her thigh. "There aren't still cameras in here are there?" She asked, the thought suddenly occurring to her. "There is one," He told her, mapping gentle circles on her thigh. "But I covered it up as soon as I came back." "Well, how positively devious of you," She said with a smirk, parting her legs slightly to allow him access. He could remember precisely how she liked it, as if their last time had only been yesterday. "I can remember every delicious thing I used to do to you," He murmured, delicately inching two fingers inside her, feeling the intense heat of her arousal. "You're not the only one," She said very unsteadily. Briefly withdrawing his hand from her, he ran a finger across his lips, savouring every bit of her residue. "Have you missed me that much?" George said with a laugh, not remotely abashed by him doing this. Returning his hand to her warmth, he began manipulating her in earnest, his hand effortlessly reminding her of just what she didn't have with Neil. Yes, she slept with him, but she didn't enjoy it, not any more if she ever had. When he kissed her, she could taste herself on his lips and it excited her. Dropping her hand to his fairly considerable erection, she smirked. Only in bed had she ever really been able to make him lose the control he so cherished. Gently removing her hand from him, he made it clear that he wanted her to reach orgasm before he took her. "Please, John," She all but begged. "I need you inside me." He saw a look of such pleading in her eyes, an expression of such desperate desire, that he capitulated. Settling between her legs, he entered her very slowly, both of them committing every inch to memory, for fear it would never happen again. She clung to him as he moved within her, wishing she could die now so as to make her last moment a happy one. John couldn't believe he was really doing this after all these years. He'd made so many predictable attempts to pull her, and not one of them had ever paid off. Yet here she was, writhing under him in complete ecstasy, after having definitely been the one to initiate it. He reached between them to continue stimulating her clitoris, knowing that George always had preferred it when she could have both at once. John had needed this, had needed a way of releasing all the pent up emotions of the last few weeks. Jo wasn't letting him even hug her. She'd even pushed him away when he'd kissed her the other night, though that had only been meant to comfort her. He squeezed George to him with his free arm, needing to feel as close as possible to her for the brief time they might have. He half laughed, half cried out when she internally squeezed him, speeding up his thrusts until they simultaneously came, George letting out a cry of her own.
As they lay afterwards, their breathing gradually returning to normal, he could see that she had tears in her eyes, but that she was desperately trying not to let them fall. "I think I'd forgotten just how good it could be," She said, wondering just why Neil could never have made her feel like this. "Is lover boy not living up to the accolade?" "He never has," She said scathingly. "Ah, yes, I do vaguely remember you once saying that you would have had more fun with a church minister." "Well, there you are then." "George, why are you still with him?" Immediately, her whole body stiffened. "I don't want to talk about him!" She said almost desperately, knowing that if he probed any further, she would be in serious danger of telling him everything, not something she wanted to do today, if ever. "Okay," He said persuasively, running a gentle hand up and down her arm. They lay quiet for a while, both of them soaking up the feeling of being in the other's arms. They had once had times like this, when they'd lain docile and content, happy just to be together. George looked exhausted, the relaxation that only an orgasm can provide, making her feel as though she could simply drift on time until she was called back to the land of the living. John was happy to hold her, watch her as her eyes flickered closed, and listen to her soft, slow breathing. The room was warm, the sofa comfortable, and John had no reason to disturb her brief moment of peace.
But when he heard the approaching firm, female footsteps that he would recognise anywhere, he inwardly groaned, praying that she would simply knock and assume that he wasn't there, but Jo didn't. She did knock, but opened the door without waiting for a reply, coming into the room with a fond greeting on her lips, to find John and George, lying naked in each other's arms. It was all too obvious what they'd been doing, George's slightly tousled hair, and John's softened manhood relaxing against her thigh, all the evidence Jo needed. John looked up at her, every possible apology dying on his lips, because he knew that none of them could ever suffice. Gently shaking George's shoulder, John wondered how on earth he was going to wriggle out of this one. When George opened her eyes, she looked drowsy, content, and softer than Jo had ever seen her. "It seems we have company," John told her. Swiveling her gaze in Jo's direction, George looked stunned when she saw her. "Oh," Was all she seemed able to say. Before either she or John could think of anything else to try and explain their highly compromising position, Jo had turned on her heel and strode out of the door, slamming it so hard that everything in the room seemed to rattle. Neither George nor John said a single word as they hurriedly pulled their clothes on, both of them knowing that no matter how much they'd wanted this, it should never have happened, and that Jo would probably never forgive John for doing the one thing she'd been accusing him of all these years.
When John reached the outside, Jo was striding purposefully towards her car. "Jo," He called, running after her. When she turned, he could see all the hurt, all the anger framed clearly in her face. "My god," She said sarcastically. "You do dress quickly these days. It must be all those beds you have to leap out of at a moment's notice." "Jo, listen," He said, trying to curb her flow of insults. "Go on," She encouraged scornfully. "This I can't wait to hear." Neither of them took any notice of George's appearance. "I'm sorry," Was all John could find to say. When Jo's hand connected resoundingly with his cheek, George gasped. Without further ado, Jo walked the rest of the way to her car, a slightly stunned John following her. "Why do you always do this, John?" She said, when she realised that he wasn't going to let her go so easily. "Why can't you ever manage to keep your word for longer than five minutes?" "Jo," He protested as she got into her car. "Please let me explain." "What is there to explain?" She demanded through the open window. Then, when he opened his mouth to tell her, she said, "No way, John, not this time, not any more. You want comfort, get it somewhere else." Then, revving the engine, she roared away, leaving John staring after her with a look of sheer pain on his face. He'd never wanted to hurt Jo. He knew he'd slept with George, purely and simply because he was lonely and she'd been there. Turning about to walk to his own car, he saw that George was standing beside hers, clearly waiting for him. When he reached her, they just stood and looked at each other. "I'm sorry," She said eventually, with no anger, no malice, with none of the old George's pleasure that he might have expected after such an event. "Are you?" He demanded belligerently. "In the old days, you'd have been delighted." "Well, I'm not now," She insisted, his cruel tone hurting her more than she liked to admit. "Why, George? Isn't this what you've always wanted?" "Don't take your problems with Jo out on me," She hissed at him. "Yes, it is partly my fault that Jo discovered us in the manner she did, but it is not my fault that she clearly expects you to live like a monk until she's ready for you." Turning her back on him, she got into her car and drove away, leaving him feeling even more regret than he had done at the beginning of the evening.
The next morning, George caught up with Jo just before she went into court. She was in the foyer, clearly talking to her client when George approached her. "I think we need to talk," George said quietly, walking up beside her. "I've got nothing to say to you, George," Jo said bitterly, incensed that George was approaching her like this. "Well, there are several things that I need to say, and that you are going, to hear," George said firmly. "So, shall we do this in the hearing of your client, or shall we go somewhere else?" Seeing that she wasn't going to get her way on this without a public scene, Jo excused herself from her client and followed George outside. When they were out of earshot of anyone else, Jo got in first. "Come to gloat have you?" "Don't be ridiculous," George said angrily. "I can assure you that I have better things to do, than rub even more salt into the wound." "So what are you here for?" Jo demanded. "To tell you why it happened, and to try to knock the merest ounce of sense into you." "As to why he slept with you, George, I'd have thought that was obvious," Jo said scornfully. "You were offering it to him on a plate, and John will never say no to anything vaguely attractive in a skirt." "No, you stupid woman," George said vehemently, forcefully holding back the urge to shake some sense into Jo. "That wasn't it, or at least not most of it. Can't you see how depressed he is at the moment? Can't you see that all he wants is a little bit of recognition from you?" "And by recognition, you mean sex," Jo clarified. "No, I don't," George protested. "I am just as familiar with John's fickle attitude to women as you are, don't forget. Jo," She continued, trying to sound more conciliatory. "Your absolute devotion to the cause of adopting Michael Hulsey, is making you virtually blind to John's existence. You can't see how much he needs you, because at the moment you neither have the room nor the inclination to see it." "Oh, and we all know that being committed to the raising of a child, isn't something you put much time and effort into, don't we," Jo said scathingly, hating the fact that George was right. She watched as George's eyes slightly flickered, just for a second betraying the true pain this throwaway comment had caused. "Don't bring my shortcomings into this," George replied quietly. "All I'm asking you to do, is to see what's right in front of you, that's all." She sounded almost defeated, and Jo could tell how much she'd hurt her. But when she turned to go back inside, George remembered something else she'd wanted to say. "I haven't finished," She said, her voice having regained some of its former stridency.
"I think I've heard quite enough," Jo said over her shoulder. Grabbing Jo's arm, George, with far more strength than Jo would have expected in her, whirled Jo round to face her. "Just a little warning," George said icily. "If I ever, see you raise a hand to him again, I shall personally hound you out of a job. Is that clear?" Jo stared at her in disbelief. "Believe me, Jo, if you'd ever had anyone do the same to you, it would be the last thing you would ever think of doing to John, no matter what the circumstances." Leaving Jo in mid gape, George strode across the car park to her car, hoping that Jo might at least have listened to some of the things she'd said. Whether or not she would act on any of it, was anyone's guess.
