I'm Open to Falling from Grace

Spoiler-y for Season 6. Emma has dumped Peter, Sean may get out of jail soon, and now Emma looks back on her experience with Jay, wondering how she will tell Sean about it. Rated M for sexual content during flashback. One-shot.

"You're perfect," Sean had said to her.

Emma winces, thinking back on their last visit. He's in her heart, there's no denying that, but sometimes, but there's a part of her that just wants to rail at him. To tell him that he's not being fair, she's not perfect, not even close, she never has been – no one is! She knows she wants to be with him, but she also knows he put her on a very high pedestal, and she's scared of what will happen when he realizes she's fell off of it a long time ago.

Emma finds herself at the auto shop where Jay works. It's not like she put any conscious thought into it. Her feet just sort of found their way there.

"Jay," Emma says softly. He looks up from the car he's working on.

"You visit Sean again?" Emma nods.

"How is he?"

"Okay. I mean better, considering … his Public Defender says he may be able to get him out soon."

"Well, that's good."

After a minute, Emma just blurts it out. "I dumped Peter."

Jay nods. "It's about damn time."

"He planted that pot in Sean's locker. He admitted it to me." Jay doesn't look surprised. "Wait – did you know that?"

"He basically admitted to it right before he and Sean raced, yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Oh come on!" Jay says, bristling at her indignant tone. "You wouldn't have believed it! Not coming from me, anyway…"

"Good point," Emma mutters.

Jay smirks. "So … it looks like you and Sean will get back together then, huh?" Emma gives him a warning look. "Okay, okay, easy Greenpeace, I get it, it's none of my business, but let me just say - it's about damn time for that too."

A few moments of awkward silence follows, as Jay continues working on the car. After a moment, he looks up again, seeming surprised she is still there.

"Is there something else you wanted to say to me? I mean, we both know you're not here because you enjoy the pleasure of my company-"

"Did you ever tell Sean about … you know," Emma lowers her gaze, then looks back up at Jay. He looks at her, his expression guarded.

"Do you really want to have this conversation?"

"Want to? No. Need to? Yes." Jay sighs, stops working on the car, and walks over to her, taking care not to stand too close.

"You think I have a death wish or something? No, I never told Sean about it. I wasn't planning on telling him about it. Why does he ever have to know?"

"Jay, I need to tell him-"

"Tell him what, Emma? It's not like you were cheating on him! He was shacking up with Ellie when he left, remember? Let's not re-write history here."

"Look, it's just – I want to be honest with him, okay? He thinks I'm perfect, but I'm not!"

"No one is." He looks at her with an expression Emma doesn't recognize, probably because she hasn't seen it on him very often: sincerity.

"Look, I'm - I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I – messed up your life, got you sick, damaged your reputation – whatever."

"Gee, thanks," Emma snaps sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, I didn't think it would be worth much, but for the little that it's worth, I do actually mean it. For once." Emma takes a deep breath.

"I know. And it's not like … it's not like you forced me to do anything."

Jay shrugs. "Well, there are some lines even I won't cross. But if I guess – I guess I should've just left you alone."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because I wanted you."

"Why?"

"Oh come on!" Jay scoffs. "Because you were – I mean, you still are – look in the goddamned mirror, Emma! That's a really stupid question. And, you know, I liked … how you had -"

"Virtue, or whatever?" Emma asks acidly. The silence hangs in the air between them, heavy, thick with the things will never say to one another. After a moment, Jay speaks again.

"Look, I really don't think you should say anything. But … but if you have to tell him, just – give me a warning, okay?"

Emma nods. "Okay," she says softly. "I'll let you know what I decide."

"Fair enough."

She turns to leave.

"Emma," Jay calls after her. She turns back. "Don't – don't stress over it, okay? I mean, if you do decide to tell him, he'll be pretty damned shocked, but he'll get over it, eventually. At least, as far as you're concerned, anyway. If he ends up hating anyone – it'll be me, not you. So don't worry."

Emma looks at him curiously. "And that won't bother you?" Jay looks away, shrugs again.

"Of course it will. But you know – whatever. Bummer times. So he'll just be one more person that hates me. Big deal."

"If you expect me to feel sorry for you-"

"I don't!" Jay snaps, his eyes sparking, and Emma realizes she hit a nerve. Being hated, Jay can handle. But it appears being pitied is something he won't stand for. Emma leaves.

Walking home, Emma starts thinking about it … what actually happened between her and Jay, almost two years ago. She doesn't really want to think about it, just like she didn't want to talk to him about it, but …

Emma walks up to Jay. He sits in the same spot as before, looking sulky. Their eyes meet and lock, for an instant.

"You already had the tour." Jay looks away.

Emma takes a deep breath. "Show me again," she says, and he looks up at her. "Show me again for real."

Jay nods. He inclines his head towards the van. "After you."

Emma walks over to the van, with Jay trailing behind, glancing back only once. She climbs in, Jay climbs in, and he shuts the door behind them. Then he turns to face her.

"You gonna run from me this time?"

"No."

"Good."

They both just stand there for a minute, until Emma finally realizes that he's waiting for her to do something, that what he wants is for her to make the first move. Maybe so there's no doubt in his mind that she actually wants to be here? So she moves over to him, and puts her lips to his.

The first few kisses are soft, almost tender. Almost. Then his tongue is her mouth, and the kisses grow hot, hard, demanding, and before she realizes it, she's responding in kind, and her arms wind around him, their bodies pressed tight against each other, and …well … he's exciting, she can't deny that. She can't deny that, or she wouldn't be here.

It's wrong. It's wrong to be here, it's wrong to help him cheat on his girlfriend, it's wrong to even want him in the first place. But for once in her life, she doesn't care. Her whole body feels good, just because he's touching her.

Jay's lips leave hers as he moves to devour her neck, and Emma tilts her head back to allow him better access, trying and failing to stifle the soft whimpers of pleasure. After a moment, she feels him tugging at her shirt.

"Emma, can we take your shirt off," he whispers breathlessly.

"Okay."

She lifts up her arms to help him get it off her. Jay looks at her, appreciating the view, his gaze intense, lust-filled, the barest trace of a smirk on his lips.

"You too," Emma says softly.

"Huh?"

"Why should you get to wear a shirt if I don't?"

Jay grins, almost laughing, and removes his shirt as well. Okay, okay, she'll admit it; he looks pretty damn good with his shirt off. Not too muscular, but definitely not too scrawny, either. He leans in to kiss her again, softly this time, Emma's hands pressed lightly against his bare chest. After a moment, she pulls back. Jay looks at her questioningly.

"You okay?"

Emma hesitates for an instant longer, and then she swallows, and makes her decision. Her hands reach behind her back, undo the clasp to her bra, and she takes it off, letting it drop on the floor of the van beside her shirt.

"Damn, baby," Jay says huskily. He wraps his arms around her, crushes his mouth with hers, and lowers her onto the floor of the van, his hands caressing ever inch of her bare skin. When his thumbs brush across her erect nipples and his fingers nimbly massage her breasts, she gasps, she moans softly, despite her best efforts to remain silent. Her eyes half-closed, she senses rather than sees him smirking.

"You like that, huh?"

"Don't gloat, Jay."

"Hmm. Well, what about this?"

His mouth drops from her neck to breast, kissing softly around her nipple, until his mouth finally closes on it, and Emma moans a little more loudly than she wants to, her back arching. He lifts his head up, that infuriating smirk more pronounced than ever. God damn it, this is Jay! She tries to remind herself. He's a jerk. She doesn't even like him. So why does what he's doing to her feel so good?

She quickly loses her train of thought when he begins doing the same thing to her other breast, not stopping until he gets her to moan again. She puts her hand on the back of his neck, drawing his head down so that their lips meet again, just so she doesn't have to see that infuriating self-satisfied smirk on his face. She feels his hands sliding up and down her legs as they continue to kiss, creeping up underneath her skirt to caress her thighs, reaching closer to…

"Hey," she protests, breaking off the kiss, feeling the first stirrings of fear. "I thought we were just gonna – I was going to -"

"Relax Greenpeace, you are. I just … I wanted to do something first. To you." She looks scared, he's realizing. Damn.

"Hey, hey, easy there. We don't have to do anything you don't want to, okay? I'm not … I'm not like that." She appears to relax a bit.

"I know."

"I was just going to … you know … with my hand?" Emma looks at him questioningly. Jay almost laughs again. He puts his lips to her ear.

"You'll like it," he whispers. "If you don't, I'll stop, okay? I promise."

"Okay," Emma whispers. His hands creep back up her thighs. He reaches up and pulls her panties down towards her knees, and then his fingers find her, slick and hot with desire.

"I – oh," Emma sighs, like she's realizing something. She bites her lip.

"Damn baby, you're wet. You're wet for me."

"Yes," she admits, in breathy moan. He strokes her, and before she knows it, she's panting, she's writhing, she's forgetting about right and wrong, she's forgetting about everything but the pleasure he's giving her. For the first time in a long time, she's feeling good, in a mindless, reckless sort of way, her thoughts free of pain, of fear, of the shooting, and –

"Are you close?" A strangled moan is her only response. "Come for me," he demands, and it sends her over the edge and - "Jay!" – she screams, and comes in his hand.

Emma's head falls back as she tries hard to catch her breath. She looks at him, eyes wide, hardly believing what he's just done. Even in the darkness of the van, she can see his erection straining through his pants.

"Told you you'd like it -"

She cuts him off with a kiss. She puts her hand on his chest.

"Jay?" She says softly.

"Yeah?"

"Lie back."

He grins and does what she says. Emma's hands trail down his stomach and swiftly undo his pants. As he watches her, his eyes gleaming, she pushes his boxers down, lowers her head, and does what she came there to do.

As she's doing it, Emma feels a strange, perverse sort of empowerment. He's more in her power and under her control than any boy has ever been – as he moans beneath her, seeming helpless with pleasure – and when he comes in her mouth, he calls her out name, and she swallows, reflexively, and then – it's over. Just like that. She's done it, and there's no going back.

She looks at Jay, wondering what he thinks of her now. "Wow," is all he says. Emma lays her head silently on his chest. His reaches out, smoothing the hair on her head, and, a moment later, absently plants a kiss on her forehead. They stay like that for a few moments. Then, quietly, almost awkwardly, they both start to put their discarded clothes back on. As Emma stands up, ready to leave the van, Jay reaches in the pocket of his jeans, pulls out another bracelet, and puts it around her wrist, next to the old one.

"You earned it this time," he says. They exit the van together, Jay's arm draped loosely around her shoulders. Emma looks around at the other kids there, but nobody seems to take any notice of them.

"I should go," Emma says. Jay just nods, as if not trusting himself to speak. She kisses him once more and walks away, not allowing herself to look back, but wondering, if he's watching her go.

Later, when Manny finds out, she will ask Emma if she's in love with him, and Emma will tell her the truth, and answer "No." It wasn't love. Not even close. At best, it was a passionate, dirty little encounter, followed by a brief, stolen moment of something approximating tenderness. Something very wrong, but mutually enjoyable, that happened between two seriously screwed up people.

But Manny had been right about one thing. What she did was stupid. So damn stupid. She should've realized that just because they didn't have "real sex," the kind that could get you pregnant, as she'd so cruelly pointed out to her friend, didn't mean there wasn't any risk involved at all. She'd wound up with gonorrhea.

It would be so easy to just to blame it all on Jay, but if months of therapy had taught her anything, it was that she needed to take responsibility for her own actions. She'd talked about a lot during those sessions, not just her eating disorder, but of the things that may have led up to it – dealing with the shooting, getting an STD, her parent's marital problems – all of it. She realized that, when so many things in her life seemed to be out of her control, she'd turned to the one of the few things she could control – her own body. But really, she hadn't been in control at all. The disease had been in control of her.

And she wasn't ever going to let that happen again. She was going to own her mistakes, and because she loved Sean, she was going to be honest with him. She was going to get off that goddamn pedestal he put her on and plant her feet firmly on solid ground, right by his side. It wasn't going to be easy, but she believed that they could get past this.

Jay, of all people, had told her that she had virtue. Emma lets out a bitter little laugh. Virtue? Yeah, right. When she thinks of what they did together, "virtuous" is not one of the words that spring to mind. But then, she supposes even good people falter sometimes. Sean, of all people, should be able to understand that.

Still, it shames her. It always will. It shames her to think of it, how open she'd been, to falling off that pedestal, to falling from grace.