JO'S REPRISAL
A/N: Sorry Jo/Zane shippers, this may not be your usual thing. You've been warned.
The second real kiss was molten hot. His lips and tongue moved with a fevered heat against hers and it was too much. She'd been fighting this for months, waging a battle with herself every time she saw that taut ass and set of washboard abs. Fighting against the temptation to forget that the man she would have married, if she hadn't been a coward and an idiot, had never existed.
She knew, logically, that it wouldn't have mattered what she had said. If she'd said yes she wouldn't have answered her phone wondering if it was him, and they both would have vanished into oblivion. She wished at times that it had turned out that way, so that she wouldn't be the one left alone. Sometimes she even wished she could be the cold, heartless bitch that the other-timeline version of her was supposed to have been...
Like the first surprise in the Sheriff's Office weeks ago, he'd ambushed her, snagging her wrist and pulling her into an embrace; her traitor body responded with barely suppressed need for the man she'd lost.
A part of her railed and cursed at him (and at her), berating her for this weakness, this sham, but she paid little attention to it. All that mattered in the here and now was the feel him moving against her, pressing into her. His desire was made evident, as well as his confusion. She wanted to straddle him right here, hook his leg and throw him down on the floor and fuck him senseless... and forget that the man she had loved was dead forever.
The spinning whirl of her thoughts and emotions settled on the remains of her new house and it was like being dumped in a frozen lake in mid-winter.
Her house.
Her. House.
She'd had it just right, everything in it's place, perfect. All that effort made to reclaim memories: calling her brothers and father and requesting old photos, if they had them and accepting that some were lost forever; finding a match to her mother's piano, not a grandiose thing to be sure, but it was just like the old one; hell even replacement lingerie for the ones lost when Haberman's rocket had made her homeless to begin with; all of it utterly wasted.
By him...
By him!
But it wasn't his fault, some part of her protested, He was under hypnotic suggestion! He couldn't control his actions!
But that mattered neither to her rage, nor to the wounded, angry woman inside her. She stilled her response to his touch and kiss.
He felt it, pulled back, his face confused and a nascent question just waiting to be asked.
He most certainly did not expect the right-hook that caught him on the tip of his jaw, spinning him to his right and dropping him like a marionette with his strings cut.
Pain flare in her right hand, and she welcomed it. He lay senseless on the ground, a low moan of pain escaping through his clenched teeth.
"What the hell?" he mumbled, half rolling over to stare up at her. She wondered exactly what he saw. She knew she was standing with her fists clenched, the nails biting into her palms despite being sensibly trimmed. She thought that some other woman might cry in this situation, but her eyes remained dry. Whatever moisture they might threaten to spill over was burned away in the cold fury.
"Jo, seriously," he said, rolling into a sitting position. Blood was leaking form his mouth and he ran a finger in as if to check his teeth, wincing. "What the hell?"
Finally she could talk without screaming... "You burned down my house, Donovan," she said with icy calm.
His eyes sparked with indignation, "I was-"
"I don't give a crap that you were 'under the influence'!" she snarled. "We still jail under-the-influence assholes that drive their cars and kill people. Just imagine if you were listening to NiN's 'Closer' or maybe you'd have fucked some poor girl like an animal. Maybe you could've dug the Unforgiven?" she finished waving her hands in the air.
He could've also listened to a suicide song, whispered a voice inside, then you wouldn't have him...
I'd still have my house at least! she reminded it.
"But-" He protested.
"You burned down my house! My! House!"
"I apologized for that..." he said, and it was a small thing, a little broken. "Jo, I'm sorry, I-"
"I don't give a good god damn, Donovan. This is the third damn time I've lost everything in under six months, and you have no idea what that's like, none at all!" She turned to walk away.
"But what about us?" he asked, then tried for a pathetic bit of humor, "Weren't we headed for a happy ending for a moment there?"
She paused and glared back over her shoulder. He had a ghost of his trademark smirk in place, but it fell when they made eye contact. Her voice was tired and heavy when she asked, "Do you know what a happy ending is, Zane?"
He shook his head.
"It's when the cameras stop rolling to early," she said bitterly, then almost whispered, "Never touch me again."
She stalked off into the night, leaving him in the ruins of her memories and shattered dreams.
Disclaimer: I don't own "Eureka" or any of its characters, no matter how much I wish I did. Thanks to UCP, Jaime Paglia, and Andrew Crosby for letting us fanfic authors goof around in your universe.
Author's Notes: Sorry to the Jo/Zane shippers out there, but I had a real problem with the kiss at the end. I know it's supposed to be her finally giving up, but honestly losing her house a second time so quick is not a good thing. As evinced by this I think she should have reacted differently.