Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry

You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you, tell you I need you

Tell you I set you apart

Coldplay - The Scientist

He'd noticed changes in her during the months they'd been together.

In the beginning she'd been distant and detached, non committal and at times even wary of his presence. She'd frowned if he called her 'baby' and shied away from his affection; when he called her 'beautiful' or took her hand. She'd invariably used a quip to break the moment if it got too intense and switched to French to speak her feelings. She'd kept her cards close to her chest.

Taking things slowly, he'd allowed the relationship to move at her pace. Gradually, French became a language used only to tease him or turn him on. She still joked, a lot, but tried to use words to express how she felt. She slipped her hand into his when they walked along the street and let him kiss her when he wanted. He could call her 'baby' and 'Jessica' without reproach, but 'beautiful' still caused her cheeks to flush.

He told her that he cared and how much he adored her, and although she didn't reciprocate aloud; he felt the passion in her lips as she kissed him and heard her whisper the words at night, when she thought he was asleep.

There were things he was glad that didn't change. She was still tough, savvy and independent; spoke her mind and, at times, had a fiery temper. Her penchant for Julie Andrews, trashy thrillers, loud music and dark chocolate remained firm. She still didn't hesitate to draw her service weapon or ball out a perp. She still beat him hands down at Monopoly and put in him his place. She could still render him speechless with a few flicks of her tongue, make him blush crimson in a second and take his breath away with one kiss.

:-:-:

As soon as he'd said the words, "...Look Jess, I'm sorry; I've got bigger things to worry about right now than Squad Room gossip", he'd regretted them.

The truth was he didn't care about Squad Room gossip or if it was common knowledge that they were dating; the truth was that he was more than happy for everyone to know she was his.

She'd driven the decision to keep things quiet, saying it just made sense for the Precinct; that although they weren't 'partners' he still outranked her, that she didn't want their credibility questioned or for things to get difficult.

While she remained, for the most part, professional on the clock, he'd grown less so; going out of his way to bring to her coffee, sneaking sly minutes with her, snagging a forkful of her salad lunch as he passed her desk and, when she'd objected, shrugging matter-of-factly "You don't like the walnuts anyway".

:-:-:

He called her from the bar, beer in hand and shouting a little over the noise of the game, as he waited for Mac, "Hey".

"Hey"

"You okay?"

"Uh-huh" her response was curt.

"Jess," he sighed, wishing she would just yell at him and let him off the hook, "I..."

She cut him off before he continued, "Look, I've got to go; got a warrant to run down". The line clicked dead and he slammed the bottle onto the table, cursing as the beer frothed over the top and into a messy puddle.

:-:-:

When he left the bar he called again but her cell switched to voicemail. As he slumped in his easy chair, untouched Jameson on the table, he keyed the speed dial button for a third time.

"Jess I'm sorry. I didn't mean things the way they sounded. But I don't care about gossip or if people know..."

He could hear her slow, controlled breaths.

"I know how important your career is though. I know that you hate the gossip and that IA gave you shit 'cause of me; I'm sorry for all of that. And I'm sorry that I hurt you."

She gave a little sigh but remained silent.

"Jess please? Talk to me?"

He was about to give up, to slam down the phone.

"You know Jess? I was quite content; being a cop, playing hoops, drinking beer...and then you came along. Sam used to tell me I had that 'grumpy mad dog thing' going on but now...now she says I actually look happy! Happy Jess, happy 'cause of you. Yeah, I screwed up by saying some stupid words. I'm sorry for being an idiot and I'm sorry for hurting you. But will you just talk to me?! What you're doing now is killing me."

Her silence continued as he mumbled shyly, "I can't help how I feel about you Jess..."

"Okay". Her voice was small, "Okay Don".

:-:-:

His eyes fixed on the late night TCM film, but his mind wandered; only being brought back to reality by a loud, aggressive banging. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he yawned widely. The banging that woke him sounded again; it was a familiar bang, the kind he did just before yelling "NYPD" and crashing through the door. Stumbling along the hallway he yanked at door, opening his mouth to shout out the instigator of the commotion, when he saw her standing there; her palm poised to bang again.

Her hair was loosely curled, the way it was when she let it dry naturally, and pinned back instead of the loose straight it'd been early in the evening. Maroon canvas low tops replaced the heels she'd been wearing in the Precinct, but the leather jacket remained.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, "Hey" then moving aside, "You okay?"

She nodded once, decisively, before stepping over the threshold; simultaneously kicking the door closed and balling her fist in the fabric of his shirt to yank his lips down to meet hers. The kiss was raw, spiraling out of control in a matter of seconds. Her hands pulled at the fabric, gliding across his taut muscles and pushing it up, forcing him to tug the shirt over his head. Pushing off her jacket, he tangled a hand in her hair and spanned the other across her tiny waist; momentarily losing his mind in the heat. Suddenly he checked himself, pulling back a little and breathing hard, "What's going on Jess?"

"I'm sorry."

As her lips crashed against his again, he tasted the need and hunger in her mouth. Surrendering, he slammed her against the door. She could smell his hair, his skin. As he nipped along her jaw, she dug her fingers into his shoulders; grappling for control.

Tumbling onto the bed, he feasted on her; with hands, then mouth, then tongue. Clothes fell to the ground as they were impatiently yanked and torn. As she rose above him, her mind screamed for more; the craving inside of her almost bordering on agony. Her hands streaked over the body she'd grown to know; the stubble on his cheek, the flex of his muscles and the shape of his scar. His eyes darkened to almost black as he drove into her, his hands possessively gripping her hips.

Then her hands came to his face, cupping his cheeks with such gentleness that he was thrown off balance. Brushing her lips to his, she whispered with pain rather than passion, "Don".

As his eyes met hers, blue to brown, she surrendered to him.

Rolling her, he took her in his arms; laying a sweet kiss in the hollow of her throat. She sighed as his lips and hands glided over her, both calming and arousing her.

Her eyes fluttered open, "Don, I'm sorry..."

Shaking his head he soothed, "There's nothing to be sorry for."

Again her hands cupped his cheeks, her words filled with urgency "I was stupid..."

"Shh." He laid a soft kiss over her heart, "Just stay with me Jess."

When his lips reclaimed hers it was with lingering tenderness. They watched each other as he slid into her and as they moved together, as if there was all the time in the world. He watched as her eyes blurred and as he took her hands in his. He watched as he pressed his lips to her shoulder, her throat and her lips.

"Stay with me Jess."

She stayed with him. She stayed with him as she sobbed him name, her hands in his and their bodies in unison. She stayed with him, as they lay shattered and then as they slept.