Forbidden Fires, a northern exposure fanfic

"Forbidden Fires"

—a Northern Exposure alternate episode ending for "Soapy Sanderson"

Rating:M (some sexuality)

Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional and is in no legal way connected with the actual t.v. show, Northern Exposure.

Joel poured himself another glass of 1975 Lafite-Rothschild and topped up Maggie's glass. He was starting to feel seriously tipsy from Soapy's generous gift and was mostly relieved to see that the bottle was nearly empty. He hadn't tasted such a magnificent wine since Elaine's birthday two years ago. They had gone to dinner at a posh little place uptown—way beyond his means as a student—and Joel had spontaneously decided to splurge on a bottle of the best. Elaine loved to be spoiled like that. She was nothing like Maggie. He looked at Maggie now, chewing the pasta she'd made for the two of them, the firelight casting playful shadows on her face. She was really beautiful, in her own way.

"What?" she said.

"What what?"

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I was staring?"

"Yes, you were staring. What's wrong—do I have sauce on my face or something?" She wiped at her mouth with her napkin.

"No, you're good. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Oh, nothing. Just the usual—you wouldn't want to hear it."

"You mean, how much you miss New York and want to get out of this rat hole, as you call it?"

"Yeah…Look, I don't mean to offend anyone here when I say things like that. Cicely's a great little town—it's just…not for me." He took a sip of wine and swallowed hard. Maggie watched his lips on the glass.

"Do you miss your girlfriend? What's her name?"

"Elaine."

"Elaine, right."

"Yeah, of course I miss her." He was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Are you really engaged?" Maggie asked, twirling the linguine around her fork as she spoke. She kept her eyes on her plate.

"Yeah, we are." Joel had to admit to himself that it did seem odd to be engaged and be so far away from his intended—in body and in mind. Thoughts of weddings, life in the City with Elaine, just seemed so incongruous with his life here in Alaska.

"Is she Jewish?" Maggie asked.

Joel looked up from his dinner. "What? Elaine? Yeah, why?"

"I just wondered. Is that important to you, that you marry a Jewish woman?"

"Yeah. No. I mean, I dunno. I never really thought about it. I guess I just assumed my wife would be Jewish."

"Oh."

"So what are you, like, Catholic or something?"

"Used to be. These days I think more in terms of spirituality than organized religion. Ed's taught me a few things about his people's beliefs, treating nature with respect, things like that. It makes a lot of sense to me."

"Wow."

"Wow what?"

"No, it's just—I didn't peg you as a spiritual kind of girl."

"Oh, right—what do you think I am, Fleischman? Just a dumb bush pilot? I actually do have complex thoughts and emotions, y'know." Her voice was indignant, but somehow her hostility only excited him.

"Really? So tell me—what are some of those complex thoughts and emotions? What are you thinking right now?" He smiled mischievously.

Maggie wanted to be angry with him, but his grin was annoyingly contagious. Despite herself, she could feel her lips turning up into a smile of her own. "Just how nice this is—the firelight, the peacefulness of the evening. It's nice to get away from my cabin."

"What about Rick? Won't he be expecting dinner?" He was obviously fishing for information.

"We don't expect things from each other." Maggie turned away, unable to continue looking into Joel's deep brown eyes. She concentrated instead on the flickering flames in the fireplace.

Joel cleared his throat and stood up. "Well, O'Connell, I should probably hit the hay. Six a.m. comes early. Thanks for dinner—it was great."

Maggie was hurt. Why was he rushing her out so soon? Had she offended him with that Jewish question? Was he afraid of something happening? Or was he trying to send her a message—I have a fiancé and besides, I don't like you? She pretended to be unfazed by his rudeness, and abruptly got up. "No problem. I'd like to get back to Rick, anyway. I'm sure he's wondering what I'm doing." She walked past Joel on her way to the door, brushing against him accidentally.

He grabbed her arm as she went by. "What are you doing?"

At his touch, her eyes lit up with a fiery defiance. "I'm leaving. I'm not doing any--" Suddenly he was kissing her, his warm lips insistent on hers. "—thing," she finished when he finally separated his mouth from hers. Their eyes met briefly and he could see plainly that his own desire was reciprocated.

"Maggie, I…" he started to say.

"Yes?" She wondered if he would start backpedaling now or later.

"Nothing." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her again. This time his tongue was in her mouth and his hands roamed freely over her full curves. She didn't stop him. He was about to move his hands up under her shirt when he stopped himself. Panting slightly, he pulled his body away from hers. "I can't do this. I'm sorry."

Frustrated and confused, Maggie just stood there, her face flushed.

Joel continued. "I—I don't want to lead you on, Maggie. It just wouldn't be fair."

"To who?"

"To whom."

"Oh, go to hell, Fleischman!" Now she was pissed off again, and he couldn't resist the way she scrunched her face up into an adorable little mask of anger.

"Screw it," he said, throwing himself back into her arms. They stumbled together to the couch, falling onto it without unlocking their lips. He tore at her clothes with an aggression she had never suspected, baggy cotton garments falling rapidly onto the floor. She raced to unburden him likewise, the cardigan sweater and pleated-front dress pants proving so cumbersome that he had to help her get them off. Soon they were lying on the cushions in their underwear, and he was blazing a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone and down the deep v between her breasts. One hand kneaded a soft mound while the other struggled behind her back to undo the clasp of her bra. Impatiently, she half-sat up, reached around, and unclasped it herself. "Sorry, I'm such a klutz. Wow." His eyes opened wide at the sight of her naked torso. She folded her arms defensively across her chest. "No, don't—you're beautiful, Maggie. So beautiful…" He pushed her gently back against the sofa and carefully rested his body on top of hers. Then his hand was inside her panties and he was surprised to find them soaking wet. His finger just grazed her body and she trembled uncontrollably.

"Oh, Joel!" she said breathlessly. Taking the hint, he pulled off her underwear and his own and paused, studying her form in the soft light. She opened her legs to him and put her hands on his back, drawing him near. "Please." He was more than ready. He couldn't remember the last time Elaine had excited him like this. He wanted nothing more than to be inside Maggie as soon as possible. As he entered her, she gasped, shocked by the overwhelming satisfaction of his hardness filling her. He made love to her slowly, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her lips. She ran her fingers through his hair, affectionately combing the thick waves. Her hands traveled down his back, reveling in the feel of his smooth skin under her fingertips. Their bodies rocked together in perfect rhythm, mirroring the building of their emotions.

"Oh, God!" he groaned, desperately trying to stop himself from climaxing, and failing. But it didn't matter—hearing his cries of intense pleasure brought her to her own shuddering orgasm and she continued to moan even after their hips had stopped moving and her body was still, but quivering, beneath him. Every one of her nerve endings was flooded with sensation. Joel raised himself up slightly and kissed her full lips tenderly. "I—that was—you're amazing," he gushed.

"Mmmm…" she smiled. Then a look of pure panic washed over her face, draining its formerly rosy color. "Uh-oh."

"What?" he asked, wrinkling his brow with concern. "What is it?"

Maggie didn't answer, but raised her hand to cover her mouth. "Shit!" she whispered.

"What! Tell me! For God's sake, what!" He was sitting up now, covering his lap with a nearby throw blanket. Then his look changed to one of suspicion. "Oh, no. You are on the pill, right?" Silence. "Right?"

"Don't yell at me, Fleischman!"

"Oh so now it's Fleischman again is it? Okay, O'Connell, I won't yell at you. Just please tell me, calmly and quietly so I can understand, why you would let me do this, knowing--"

"Why I let you?" she shouted. "Oh, no! I'm not taking all the blame for this! You're responsible, too! You're a doctor! You should know better!"

"Well, I—I—I assumed that if you weren't using some kind of protection, you would have the sense to tell me!" He had risen from the couch was angrily trying to pull on his undershorts.

"Fleischman, you're an ass."

"No, you--" Losing steam, he sat back down and sighed. "You're right. I am an ass."

Maggie stared up at him. "Joel, what are we going to do?"

He rested his head in his hands and shook it sorrowfully. "I don't know, Maggie. I just don't know." After a minute, he raised his head. "Well, hold on, let's not be ridiculous about this. I mean, let's not exaggerate things. Chances are, nothing will happen. You won't be—you know. I mean, there's about an eighty- or ninety per cent chance that you're not. Medically speaking. So I'm sure we're worrying over nothing."

"Yeah, you're right," she nodded. The color started to return to her cheeks. "There's no reason to get all worked up now about something that probably hasn't even happened. We should just chalk this evening up to…to what it was, and go on with our lives. Shouldn't we?"

He turned his head to look at her sideways. "I dunno, what was it?"

"Well, it was just sex, after all. Wasn't it?"

His eyes took on a rare and painful gleam of sincerity. "Not for me."

"No," she said, without smiling. "Not for me either."

They stayed quiet for a few minutes, absorbed in their separate thoughts. Joel wondered what the hell he was going to do now, and what she expected of him. She said she expected nothing of Rick. But he didn't want to be like that. He knew it probably looked like he did, but he didn't. And he didn't want to hurt Elaine, either.

Maggie saw the worry etched on his young face, and she pulled him down to rest against her. He lay with his head on her chest and she stroked his hair, whispering, "Sshh…Don't worry, baby…sshh…"