5 September 2010
The pain in Jen's arm woke her abruptly just before sunrise; the pills had worn off, and she was aching, burning, miserable before she even opened her eyes. The clever thing to do would be to reach for the glass of water and the bottle of medication on the side table, to take something now, before the pain grew too great to bear, but the thought of moving made her head spin, and she remained right where she was, warm beneath the blankets.
She'd slept flat on her back to keep from straining her arm, but that hadn't stopped Nick from reaching for her while they slept. He was pressed hard to her side, his arm flung out over her belly, his breath warm against her shoulder. It had always been like that, with Nick; no matter how hard they tried to stay to their separate sides when they lay down, as soon as sleep claimed them he would reach for her, wrap himself around her and hold her as if he never meant to let her go. She'd always thought it rather sweet, the way he seemed to want, to need to hold her, the way he seemed to long for comfort, even if he was too proud and too strong to ask for it in waking life. In dreams he had no restraint, and neither of them could hide from the desires of his heart. His desire for her.
What a bloody mess, she thought, lifting her good hand and gently dragging her fingertips against Nick's hand where it rested on her belly. When she'd first stumbled across him in Matt's kitchen, saw that smile she remembered so fondly and felt her heart pounding in her chest, she'd never imagined, not for a moment, that they'd end up here. Back in the Claybournes' lives, back under SIS's power, back in danger. But somehow she felt as if she should have seen it coming, as if all along they had been hurtling towards this reckoning, this moment when they would have to face themselves, and each other, would have to face what they'd done, would have to decide for themselves what the future might hold. They could not continue on as they had done indefinitely, sharing quiet drinks and gazing a little too long and falling asleep together when the world grew too heavy to bear. What she felt for him, what he felt for her, was a bomb that had started ticking the moment they first met in that shitty hotel room years before, and it was counting down the seconds, now, zero hour fast approaching.
She'd have to make a decision. If they both survived this ordeal - which seemed like a pretty big if, given how things had gone so far - they could not go back to the way things had been. A line had been drawn in the sand when she'd woken beside him and told him we can't do this again, and they had pole vaulted over that line and gone running for the horizon together. Having spoken the truth of their hearts, having finally tasted his kiss once more, Jen knew that everything had changed. What she didn't know, what she couldn't fathom, was where they went from here, what would become of them when they finally returned to their own homes. She wanted Homicide, and she wanted Nick, and she could not have them both.
Beside her Nick shifted, slowly drifting up from dreams; she felt his lips brush against her shoulder, the gentlest of kisses, easily hidden from the cameras, and tears threatened to gather in the corners of her eyes to think how badly she wanted him to kiss her properly, how badly she wanted to take his hand and run like hell away from this place, to sell away on that damn boat he'd always dreamed about and never have to worry about anything ever again.
"Hey," he said, his voice so low Jen barely heard it, nevermind the mics. "You all right."
"Hurts," she whispered back. The night before they had spoken softly to one another, devised a plan in breathless whispers while her arm screamed in protest. The night before Nick had reached for her, let his hand drift over her face, and his thumb had caught against her bottom lip in a caress so tender it made her shiver to think of it now. She knew exactly how he'd touch her, if she let him, knew exactly how perfect they felt together, wanted it with every fiber of her being, and yet she knew she could not have it. Not now, not until she'd had a chance to catch her breath and think things through. If they lived that long. The ever-present threat of danger had shattered her resolve before, left her thinking there was no point in holding herself back from him, when either of them could die at any moment. If this operation went on too much longer, she was certain her resolve would not hold.
"Need me to get your pills?" he asked, thoughtful the way he always was. He'd been shot on the previous op, she remembered, in almost exactly the same place; had he hurt this badly, back then? She'd known his arm must have pained him, but he'd never once complained. He must have remembered, though, remembered the depth of this heart, and he was trying, in his own way, to help her through it.
"No, they're here. I'll take them in a minute. You should sleep."
"Nah," he said. Even though she couldn't see him she knew what he was thinking; Nick had always been an early riser, and once he was up, he was up for good. There would be no more sleep for him. Maybe he'd linger in bed for a time, but more likely he'd only stay a minute or two, and then he'd shuffle off to the loo, go and start the coffee. Idleness didn't come easily to him, and morning was his favorite time of day. It was one of the many things Jen had learned about him over their time together, and he had no need to explain himself to her.
"You're worried," he said when she didn't answer him. He hadn't needed her to tell him what she was thinking, either; he must have felt the tension in her, tight beneath the weight of him. "It's not too late to change our plans."
Maybe she did need to tell him what she was thinking. Apparently he thought she was just worried about the op, their plan to track down Abbott on their own. And she was worried about it, of course she was; they could take the car like they'd done in the old days, run away from the house for a bit, and if there was no tracker on it they could do a proper investigation, and explain away their long absence with glib lies when they returned, as they had so often done in the past. The plan seemed almost doomed to end in disaster, but then so too did McAllister's inept attempts at bringing Hartono on side; whatever choice they made, this was going to be a difficult day. It wasn't the job Jen was worried about; it was them. The question of what happens next, the question of how she'd ever manage without him by her side, in her bed, the question of what would become of them when they returned to a station full of people they'd been lying to for the last year, that was what troubled her. Nick was the only person in the whole world she could confess her fears to, but she worried that telling him would only wound him, and hurting him was the last thing she ever wanted to do.
"No," she said. "We'll go ahead with our plan. I just…" her voice trailed off. The pain in her arm made it hard to think, and she didn't quite know what she wanted to tell him, anyway.
Nick's arm tightened ever so slightly against her as he realized the true source of her anxiety, as if he could feel her already slipping away and sought to keep her close.
"The rest of it can keep," he said. "You don't have to decide anything right now."
"I hate that," she answered grimly. "I hate not knowing. I hate not having a plan."
"I know you do." Nick's lips brushed her shoulder as he spoke, a small piece of comfort in this moment when Jen felt herself tumbling, caught beneath a wave she couldn't break free from, unable to tell up from down.
"But I love you," she breathed. "I don't know what to do, but I know that much."
Nick lifted his head slowly, his eyes black as night in the darkness between them, but filled with warmth, still, burning for her.
"I love you," he answered, and her heart gave a funny little flip in her chest; she knew he did, had known he loved her for months, for years now, but to hear him say it, when he'd never been able to before, when he'd never felt free enough to confess to the truth, when he wasn't really free to say it now, moved her in a way she wasn't expecting. He loved her; they weren't talking about fondness or comradeship or vague affection. It was love, this thing between them, and love could kill.
"I've got you, sweetheart," he reminded her. "We will get through this job. I will keep you safe," he continued in that same fierce whisper. "And when we get home, we will figure this out. Whatever it takes, whatever you need. We'll do it together."
He was just so bloody sure, looking at her like she was the most precious thing he'd ever seen, that in that moment she couldn't help but believe him. Fuck the cameras, she thought. It was early, yet, and likely whatever minders had been put in charge of surveillance for the night were half asleep and thinking longingly of their own beds, hardly paying attention. The room was dark, anyway, and given how slapdash the rest of the operation had been Jen reckoned the cameras couldn't have been too good, anyway. Even if they were, though, even if someone was watching them in all their technicolor glory, it didn't matter to Jen, not in that moment. They had given all of themselves, their very lives, to people who did not care if they lived or died. Let McAllister rant and rave, let him threaten to ruin their lives; he needed them, and Jen would not let anyone take Nick away from her, not now.
And so she reached for him, left her fingers drift softly through his hair, and pulled him in close. It was all the prompting Nick needed; his hand slid over her hip, and bowed his head, and when his lips touched hers they both sighed in relief. For a moment they lost themselves in one another, soft lips pressing, searching, parting, his tongue darting out to flick tentatively against hers until she tightened her grip on his hair and he smiled against her lips, their confidence growing. It felt right, somehow, familiar, and her fear faded somewhat, in the face of the love she felt for him, the love he felt for her.
A kiss was as far as they could go; her arm hurt too badly for further exertion, and as much as she was enjoying throwing caution to the wind she wasn't much of an exhibitionist. Anything more would have to wait, until they were home, until they were free. But their time would come, of that she was certain. All they had to do was survive the next few days, and then finally they'd be allowed to rest, would be allowed the chance to talk properly, to come up with the plan she sorely needed. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew that Nick would be a part of it. He always had been, lurking just beneath her skin, a piece of her own heart, and a future without him wasn't one she wanted to imagine. Not now, not when he was holding her, kissing her, when he was the only person in the world she could trust. Nick had promised her they'd get through this together, and Nick always kept his promises.
