AND WE'RE BACK. This took longer than I intended due to some issues with formatting and distractions. But here's the next chapter! The next one may be slightly delayed because I'm graduating Friday so I'm not entirely sure when I can roll the next one out. Hopefully it's relatively soon. Anyways, enjoy!
"Is this really necessary?" Jessica sighs as she shakes out her hands.
"How many serial killers have you encountered in the past year?" Adolpho raises and eyebrow and she rolls her eyes. He's not wrong. With the Junkyard Killer in her home, racing away from the man with an axe, to the husband of Martin's patient who died on the table, to Nicholas Endicott himself. She's had an unfortunate list of run ins. "It does not hurt to brush up on self defense."
She asked Adolpho to teach her after Martin. She took basic classes when she was younger but they were nothing compared to the real fear that grips you. He taught her to use her surroundings to her advantage. Anything heavy, throw it. Anything breakable, smash it. Find something sharp, protect her children.
She shakes out the uncomfortable feeling again raising her hands to begin again. "I know what I need to do."
He moves before she can react and her back hits the mat with a painful thud. He used the distraction to swipe her feet right from beneath her. "What do you do if they have a gun?" She can't answer the question. He knows she can't. Basic instincts would tell her to find cover, more rebellious ones that sound suspiciously like Malcolm would tell her to disarm if possible. He helps her to her feet despite her huff. "Again."
She ends up back on her back 4 more times, more time in between when she's not on the mat with every passing go, but breathless and exhausted regardless. The fifth time knocks the breath out of her and she wheezes shutting her eyes.
"This is new." When she opens them again Gil is hovering over her, a smile on his face. Over her own breathing and the blood rushing through her ears she hadn't even heard him come in.
"Gil," She breathes. He offers her a hand to help her to her feet, his eyes roaming over her. Although he'd unofficially lived with her for 5 months, she still made sure she was relatively put together most days. It was rare to find her like this, hair loosely tied up and in workout clothes.
It felt oddly vulnerable.
"I'll let you two talk." Adolpho dismisses himself and suddenly she's alone with him.
"What brings you here?" Jessica smiles. Since they found Endicott's remains it's gotten easier to smile. Especially with him.
He twists, a nervous smile gracing his features. "Well, I was actually coming here to see if you wanted to get dinner with me tonight. If you're busy, that's ok I just had a night off and figured-"
"I'd like that." She interrupts him, her heart thundering in her chest. More so than when she was sparring. His nervous grin blossoms into a genuine one, his eyes sparkling with the promise of the next step.
"Ok." He breathes. "Pick you up at 8?"
Her heart jumps again, remembering the nights he'd pull up in his vintage car blasting music she'd never even heard before. His shocked expression when she'd never listened to Rage Against the Machine, Guns n Roses, or Bon Jovi. Her mother never let her listen to more than classical, Martin developed a taste for it to. Said it made him feel sharper in the operating room. His music was everything that the things she'd known her whole life wasn't. Now they're staples in her home. Malcolm picked up his taste on long car rides. The songs bring a nostalgic smile to her face.
"Jess?"
"Yeah. 8 is good."
He leaves with a small wave to Adolpho and he's gone just as quick as he came. Her head is reeling from the adrenaline and the promise of something new. Well, not new. Something that she's missed for a long time.
Oh god, what will she wear?
"Are you ready Ms. Whitly?" Adolpho asks, she's not looking at him but she can practically hear the smile on his face. A knowing grin of one of few people who witnessed that relationship in the past. One of few that saw how it broke her when it didn't work out.
"I have to call Ainsley."
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He guides her gently back into her home with a hand on her lower back. She's still laughing from something he said about Malcolm. Her sides hurt from laughing all night, her cheeks aching from her persistent smile.
Come to think of it, it feels like the first time she's truly laughed in months. He always had the ability to make her laugh even when she didn't want to. She remembers pursed lips and biting the inside of her cheeks when she'd want to be angry with Malcolm for reckless behavior or Ainsley for her rebellious spirit. Then he'd come in with that half smile and break her down easily. For a time she swore the kids used him so that she wouldn't be angry with them if they brought Gil to tell her they broke an antique pot that's been in her family longer than she has.
"Do you have to go?" She asks, like some kind of lovesick teenager. When he smiles, at least she knows he feels the same way. "I could pull some vintage from the cellar. I have a Michter's that I've been dying to crack open."
"Afraid so. It's an early day tomorrow and I'd like to get a jump on work before your son shows up to pester me." He says it with a teasing smile so she knows he's joking. She knows he treasures when Malcolm comes just to sit across from him to talk about everything and nothing at all. Often armed with coffee or lunch he'd take his spot without even being invited in. It's something she remembers doing often when her thoughts grew too loud.
"Another time then. Goodnight," She whispers, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Her heart thumps heavily in her chest when she catches a whiff of his cologne. God help her, she wants him to stay.
"Goodnight Jess." He drops a kiss to her forehead and her eyes flutter closed. Her hands fall on his chest, she can feel his heart thundering against her fingertips. Just as quick as hers. She leans in again, kissing the corner of his lips. She barely pulls away this time, his breath still fanning her face in the close proximity. It's his turn and he closes the distance between them again.
His lips are on hers, his hands holding her against him. Her fingers tangle with the lapels of the coat as she deepens the kiss, not able to get enough of this. Of him.
She wonders, yet again, what the hell took them so long.
She breaks the kiss, ready to dive back in again but he stops her.
"I have to go."
"I know." She whispers, kissing him once more. This one is shorter, sweeter. It's a promise.
"I'll call you. Goodnight." As he leaves, her head rushes again. For once she laments not having anyone to call and scream with because every nerve in her body is on fire with excitement. Her hands shake as she reaches down to remove her heels now that she knew she was alone. With Ainsley spending the night at Malcolm's and certainty that she is alone for the rest of the night Jessica almost wants to put on music and dance.
She hasn't danced in so long.
She's about to turn the corner when a knock stops her dead in her tracks. Her mind races with a million questions at once. Did he come back? Did he change his mind? Is she ready for this?
She decides she is when she moves back to the door, her hands still shaking as she pulls it open. Her heart is in her throat finally, after all this time ready to move forwards.
Yet, it's not Gil. The woman standing at her door is trembling. She's not sure if it's the cold or the fear that has turned her into a ghost. The woman clings to the door frame, as if it's the only thing keeping her upright. Jessica's eyes fall to the woman's chest absolutely covered in blood. The smell is overwhelming her before her minds connect the dots. She recognizes the woman at her door.
"Cricket?"
"Help me."