A/N: HA! I didn't lie! I have another for y'all...well, who ever reads this anyway...and I think you might like this one. ;)

Chapter 4: Aftermath

About an hour later, a knock came on Sara's door.

"It's open," she called, not sitting up from the cot.

The door opened, then closed again. She heard footsteps coming closer to her.

"Are you all right?"

Sara grinned.

"I think so, John."

"How long have you been lying like that?"

He was closer to her by then. She could see his head if she looked down (without moving her head).

"How long has it been since I came in here?" she countered.

"About an hour," he said, looking at his watch.

Sara made a gesture in their secret form of communication that basically meant 'there's your answer'.

"God, Sara," John mumbled, standing next to the cot.

"Help me up," Sara said, extending her arms up to John.

He took a hold of her hands, and pulled her into a sitting position.

She winced slightly as she let her arms drop back down to her sides.

"Does Sarge know what happened?" Sara asked.

"Not yet, but I'm sure he'll find out soon."

John sat next to her on the cot. "You sure you're all right?"

Sara turned her head to look at John, and saw real sincerity in his eyes.

"Yeah, the pain's fading," she said, unable to look away.

Evidently, John was having the same problem.

Sara eventually tore her eyes away from John's after a minute or so. She looked down to her knees, then across the room to stare at the wall for a moment.

"You sure we don't have any eavesdroppers?" she asked with a smile, while staring.

"I'm sure. They went for dinner," John replied, also with a smile.

Sara's smile faltered.

"Dinner? And you're not going?" she asked, looking back at John.

"Not hungry," he said simply. "Are you?"

"No," she laughed, but then regretted it. "I don't think I could keep anything down anyway."

John nodded as Sara laid back on the cot again.

"Sorry I made an ass of myself today. Must be embarrassing to know me now, huh?" Sara asked, staring at the ceiling, again.

"No, I'm not embarrassed...and you didn't make an ass of yourself. You made an ass of Portman...but we already knew he was," John said, leaning back on the cot also, propping himself up on his elbow; he faced Sara.

Sara laughed again, but stopped abruptly with a groan. She brought a hand up to rub her stomach.

"You gonna pat your head now?" John joked.

Sara whacked him weakly with the back of her hand from her position.

"You're not funny," she said, continuing to rub her stomach.

"Let me look at it," John said, swatting her hand away.

"No, really, I'm fine, John," Sara protested, fighting to keep here hand there.

"Shut up, wuss," John said, wrestling to keep Sara's hands out the way.

When John was finally able to trap Sara's hands, he reached for the hem of her shirts, where he paused. He looked at her face.

"Just do it," Sara sighed. "Watch the hands. Shirt doesn't go any higher than the ribs. Got it?"

"Come on, Sara. I'm not that shallow," John said, as Sara stared at the ceiling, yet again.

John slowly lifted Sara's hoodie and tank top until he could have a good look at her stomach where Portman punched her.

He ran his hand lightly over her ripped stomach (courtesy of the Marines) and Sara stiffened.

"Okay?" John asked.

Sara nodded and John pressed a little harder.

As he looked at her stomach, John noticed some slight bruising.

"Shit, Sara," he said quietly, furrowing his brows.

"What?" she asked, ripping her eyes away from the ceiling to look at John.

"It's bruising," he answered.

"Shit...badly?"

"No. It should be all right in a few days."

Even though John made his evaluation of damage, he still didn't remove or stop his hand movements on Sara's stomach.

The two stared at each other for a few moments.

Sara relaxed slightly, and she felt her heart start beating faster.

John stilled his hand on her stomach, and felt himself leaning towards her slowly.

Not only did Sara's heart beat faster, but her breathing increased also as John brought his face even closer to her own.

When they were an inch or two apart, Sara swallowed subtly and looked from John's eyes to his lips.

John did the same, and finally closed the gap between them in a soft kiss...the first they've shared.

A time later, John pulled back and looked down at Sara. She didn't move; she was barely breathing.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," John whispered.

Sara let out a breath and looked at John.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for that," Sara whispered back.

John grinned and brought his hands to either side of Sara's face. He leaned back down to kiss her again.

Now that Sara's hands were free, she was able to put them on John's back.

The kiss turned out to be more passionate than the first.

John pulled back again in order for both of them to breathe.

They heard a noise outside of the room, and John practically jumped off of the cot. Sara lowered her shirts again.

Seconds later, there was a knock on the door.

"It's open," Sara called for the second time that day.

The door opened and Sarge struck his head through.

Sara sat up on the cot with a wince.

"How's your stomach?" Sarge asked, walking into the room.

"Guess you found out, huh?" Sara countered.

"Yeah. Destroyer explained most of it."

"Most of it? It was just a punch."

"It seems like everything started as soon as you and Portman met," Sarge stated.

"Oh, well, that was more of a warning more than anything," she defended.

Sarge's eyes shifted from Sara to John.

"It's true. It was a fair warning...to all of us," John said.

Sarge looked back to Sara.

"You never answered my question," he said, stepping towards Sara, who gulped.

"It's fine," she said, shortly. "Just a little sore."

"Lift up your shirt," Sarge ordered.

Sara didn't argue like she did with John; Sarge was her CO after all.

She hesitantly lifted up the edge of her shirts to let Sarge look at her gut.

Sarge reached a hand out to run it over the area.

Sara took a sharp intake of breath, and stiffened again.

"Hurt?" he asked, looking up at her.

She shook her head.

"Cold hand," she said, half lying.

Sarge gave a half grin, then pulled his hand away. As he took a step back, Sara relaxed again.

"It's bruising," he said.

"Yeah, found that out already," Sara stated, subtly looking at John.

"Hmm," Sarge mumbled. "Ice it, and get some rest. We need someone to keep Portman on his toes."

"Yes, sir," Sara said with false enthusiasm.

Sarge nodded curtly, looked to John, and left the room.

"Want ice?" John asked after he was sure Sarge was gone.

"Nah...I don't use ice for anything except drinks," Sara replied nonchalantly.

John nodded and started walking to the door.

"John, wait," Sara called.

He stopped and turned back towards her.

Sara reached for the set of keys that contained her room keys. She took one key off the ring and tossed it to John.

He caught it, looked at it, then back to Sara.

"Use it anytime I'm here," she said with a mischievous grin. "Just make sure no one else knows."

"Yeah, that would cause some trouble," John replied.

"Oh, and what time's wake up 'round here?" she asked as an after thought.

"5:30."

"Great," she mumbled.

John grinned at Sara, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sara sighed and carefully got off the cot. She went over to the door and looked it. Going back to her bag, she pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants and a black tank top (one of many). She changed, then dug back in her bag and pulled out a very old book from almost one hundred years ago...The Lord of the Rings.

Slowly easing herself back on the cot, she opened the book to where she left off and started reading.

Sara glanced at her watch a few hours later.

"Shit," she mumbled, rubbing her face; it was almost one in the morning.

She closed the book, still grumbling to herself, and made herself as comfortable as possible on the military cot. Minutes later, she was asleep.

A/N: MWAHAHAHAHA! How 'bout that little scene with Sara and John! I liked writing it...more to come!