3 September 2010
The slamming of a car door on the street outside their bedroom window woke Jen abruptly the next morning. She'd been jumpy and on edge from the moment she saw Abdul lying in a pool of blood in his own kitchen, and the nerves were with her still; rather than a slow, languorous rise up from dreams she was immediately awake, eyes open, taking in every detail of the situation where she found herself. Outside the car started, backed slowly out of next door's drive, the sun just beginning to rise beyond the curtains. Inside all was still, and peaceful, and quiet. She was warm in bed, tucked beneath Nick's arm.
It was hardly the first time she'd woken like this, his body solid and steady at her back, his breath washing sweetly over the curve of her neck, his arm holding her tight to him, shielding her from troubles. It was a situation so familiar to her that it nearly brought tears to her eyes, now; through all the many long nights of their first marriage he had held her, comforted her, sheltered her, his proximity the only cure for her sleeplessness. Since then they had shared a handful of blissful, quiet nights, holding on to one another, trying so hard to keep the world at bay. There was a sweetness, a longing in the way he reached for her that echoed the quiet yearning of her own heart, but she could not answer him, now, when they were once more under constant surveillance, when it seemed they had so much more to lose now than they ever had before. McAllister had already threatened to have them both fired and thrown in prison if they crossed him, and somehow she knew he would make good on that threat, given the opportunity.
She could hardly bear it, feeling Nick touch her, knowing she could not accept anything more than this scant comfort from him, no matter how much more she might have wanted to take, knowing that the men who watched them now were far more ruthless and far less forgiving than the ones they'd known before, wondering what the spooks had seen and what conclusions they had drawn from it. It was torture, being so near to him, and yet not being able to touch him, to let her fingertips brush against his face, to tell him of all the fears and all the hopes she carried within her heart, and so she rolled away from him quickly, rising to her feet and snatching her cardigan from the end of the bed, wrapping it tightly around her as she padded silently from the room. The cardigan was hardly so warm as he had been, but its embrace was the only one she could accept at present.
The windows in the sitting room afforded a fine view of the sunrise, and so it was there Jen went, watching the sky turning pink and gold over the treetops.
Indefinitely, that's what the spooks said when she asked how long they'd be stuck in this house. Last time indefinitely had meant thirteen months. It had cost Nick his spot on Homicide, and it was only the timing of Duncan's injury that had given Jen a chance to sneak out of Fraud; disappearing for over a year had made her an undesirable candidate for any other department, and Wolfie had only taken her on secondment, a short posting that was meant to be temporary, though she'd worked like hell to change that. What would happen this time, should SIS need them for months on end? Who would look after her house? Would she even have a job to come back to?
Maybe they'll kick me back to Traffic, she thought glumly. It sounded like a death sentence, but it might also afford her the opportunity to sit the Sergeant's exam; she'd been enjoying the work in Homicide too much to think about moving on, but if the choice were taken out of her hands, that would change things.
And if we're not on Homicide any more, the next time Nick comes round I won't have to throw him out of bed in the morning.
That thought sank its teeth into her, tendrils of hope and fear winding through her heart like some great, choking vine. They had been skirting the edge of propriety, lately, dancing in bars, Jen holding him while he cried, her eyes turning to him in moments of need and wishing he could be more than a mate. So long as they worked together, her wishes wouldn't count for much, but if their professional circumstances changed, everything would change. Would Nick's love be consolation enough, for the loss of her prestigious career? Was it even on offer? He cared for her, she knew he did, but was it enough to take such a risk? That was what she'd never known, might not ever know; without Trish and Wesley, would Nick and Jen ever be enough? If things had been different, she might have liked to find out, but everything was too muddled, now. To take a plunge into romance, only to find they weren't suited to one another, might cost her his friendship, and she could not bear the thought of a life without him by her side. Maybe, she thought, maybe that's all you need to know.
The soft sound of a footfall behind her heralded his arrival, and Jen grimaced to herself. Obviously her attempts at discretion had been for naught; she'd woken him anyway, and he'd come searching for her. That was something about this life she hadn't missed; there was never any privacy. She never had a single moment to herself, for even when he wasn't with her the spooks were still watching. The walls seemed to close in around her, as if there was not enough air in the room to sustain them, Nick and Jen and the beast of Jen's fears.
"Morning," he said softly as he came to a stop beside her, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn't bothered to dress before he'd come looking for her, was wearing only his vest and his trunks, and the sight of his long legs, his arms heavy with muscle, his broad chest, left her feeling light-headed; she could hardly look at him, for the sight of him only served to remind her how much she longed for him. He was a beautiful man, her Nick, with a beautiful body and a beautiful soul, gentle and steady and everything she'd ever wanted.
"Morning," she answered half-heartedly. She wished like hell it wasn't morning, wished like hell she didn't have to face another day of this. Another day of keeping Nick at arm's length, another day of danger, another day of doubt and fear. She would have gone back to bed right then, if she could have.
"You got to sleep in the end," he said. His voice was low and gruff, as if he were still half asleep himself, hardly speaking above a whisper as if that would be sufficient to keep the spooks from overhearing. It was such a typically Nick thing to say; he'd been worried about her, and was seeking assurance now that she was well.
Jen hummed; "Finally," she said. Yes, she had, eventually, ceased her tossing and turning and fallen asleep, but not until he wrapped his arm around her, not until the lullaby of his steady breathing finally calmed the riot of her thoughts.
Nick sighed, turned his body so he could lean towards her, but Jen kept her gaze focused resolutely out the window. If she looked at him now she wasn't certain she could stop herself from begging for him.
"I thought it was going to be easier this time," Nick said softly. "Last time we hardly knew each other."
The last time they had been awkward around one another, had argued and slept in separate beds until they got used to sharing their space, until the threats from outside the house drove them together. It had been hard, the last time, to learn to trust someone new. Maybe Nick had thought it would be easier sharing his space with someone he already trusted, someone he had already worked with, someone he already knew he could live with, but Jen had known better.
"It's different this time," she said, very quietly. This time he wasn't just some random bloke assigned to watch her back; this time he was Nick, the most important person in her whole world, the one person she wanted most and could never have. She'd known from the moment SIS roped them back in that this would be hell, even if Nick was only just coming to terms with it.
He hummed in agreement, and she fell silent, staring at her toes. This time, she wanted him to hold her, and knew he could not. This time they couldn't sneak into the bathroom for a quick shag, SIS turning a blind eye for the sake of the operation. This time they didn't have Abdul, cleaning up their messes and offering reassurances. This time she wouldn't leave him when the job was through; whatever happened in this house would echo through their lives back home, might shatter them both entirely.
Beside her Nick shifted, his head swaying towards her, close, now; it was a familiar movement, the first step in any overture from him, and the pounding of Jen's heart quickened. What she knew now, what she hadn't known then, was the way he looked when he wanted to kiss her, the way his every longing would shine in his eyes, the way he'd put himself within her reach and let her come to him, considerate, always, never forcing her. In their own lives he'd never kissed her once, but in the Claybourne's he'd kissed her more times than she could count. Now they were Trish and Wesley once again, but they were Nick and Jen, too; anything that passed between them now would be theirs, not excused by the operation, would be the desperate clamoring of their own two hearts.
For a moment he was quiet, deliberating with himself, and Jen looked up at him at last, saw the anguish and the need on his face. It was nearly enough to leave her breathless; if she had doubted, before this moment, whether Nick wanted her, she knew better now. She could see that want in his eyes, in the set of his mouth, in the way his body curved around hers, and the memories washed over her hard and fast, memories of dancing with Nick in the pub, memories of the way he'd reached for her on Hartono's yacht, the embers of passion between them catching fire in a heartbeat. This was one such a moment, she could feel it in her bones, a moment when Nick could not hide from his own desires, his desire for her, not for comfort or a warm body or Trish, but for her.
"You know how I feel about you," he said, his jaw working as he struggled to contain himself.
Do I know? She wondered. She thought about that night when he'd first come back, sitting next to him on the sofa, thought about the night after the vigilante killing, with Nick in her arms, thought about every word, every laugh, every quiet after hours drink, and suddenly it occurred to her that she did know. There was no point in wondering whether their friendship would survive a romance, if Nick would even want it; this thing between them had been a romance from the very first, six years in the making. There was no point in wondering if Nick could ever love her; he already did.
And she loved him; Christ, but she loved him. Loved his warmth, loved his laugh, loved his hands, loved his heart, loved the way he held her when she slept, the way he backed her every play, the way any activity, from cooking dinner to chasing down murder suspects, was better with him beside her. She loved him, every inch of him, every piece of him, and this operation might take him from her, and how much would she hate herself if she let this end without ever telling him the truth? He had taken a monumental risk, a catastrophic risk, in saying those words to her, and he would not have done it if he was not certain, if he did not love her so deeply that he could no longer keep his silence. If Nick was willing to be so brave, if he was so moved by his love of her that he had found the strength to speak - when speaking about his feelings had never, ever been his strong suit - then surely, she thought, surely she could do the same. He loved her, she loved him, the world was ending, and nothing would ever be the same. Whatever happened with the operation, whether it ended in a day or a month or a year, whether they had jobs to come back to after this or not, whether they died or not, he had breathed life into their love, and she could not, would not, be the one to snuff it out again.
Slowly she reached for him, her palm coming to rest against his cheek, her thumb brushing the swell of his lip as her heart burst within her chest. This was it, she knew, this was the turning point, the one moment that would change everything - that had already changed everything - between them, forever. And she wanted it, wanted it so badly that she ached with it. His eyes were locked on her face and he was just there, and she lifted herself up -
And the sitting room suddenly exploded with the sound of shouting voices, their one chance at happiness shattered by visceral, overwhelming fear, black-garbed men bursting into their quiet moment to tear them apart as Jen screamed for him, for her Nick, for her love, for her salvation.
