Well. Here we go. Let the earthquake begin. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and again, I need to give a massive 'thank you' to lawand_disorder and mcsangel2 for their awesome beta reading. And cheerleading. And stern school-marming me when needed.

So: have some answers. I hope they're satisfying. And please let me know what you think of Seismic; I love hearing from you guys!

Cataclysm

April 22, 2012

Chris was settled in his chair in the tunnel, watching on the monitor as Jayne skated circles, literal and figurative, around the men and, as always, feeling both proud and smugly amused at not just her abilities, but also at the reaction — and involuntary submission — of the pros when she was in 'I'm the best in the world for a reason, bitches, so get out of my way' mode.

But as she began to ascend the silks in preparation for the dénouement, he was unable to prevent a twinge of unease, and even though he had nothing but confidence in her, he still found himself unconsciously holding his breath as she rose higher and higher until she was as high as the silks go could go.

And then he stared in stunned, disbelieving horror when one of the men, displaying the arrogance that made him and Jayne so nervous, decided to throw in a non-choreographed twizzle and stumbled, trying and failing to keep himself from falling by grabbing the silk dangling next to his hand.

Right as Jayne was flipping herself around to get in position.

And as all four men went down like dominoes beneath her, crashing to the ice in an obscene pile of sparkling sequins and shining blades, she lost her precarious hold and was unable to compensate.

Chris didn't hear himself scream her name as she started to fall, but he did feel the combined weight of all four women waiting with him as they flung themselves against him in a desperate attempt keep him from embarking on a doomed effort to save his partner.

Robin Cousins, who was less than ten yards away, heard the commotion and came tearing down the tunnel, all four male celebs hot on his heels, as well as fellow judge Kyran Bracken, who was skating next. He took the situation in with a glance and somehow retained the wits to use the resource he had literally a step behind him, pivoting sharply around and roaring, "GO!" at the men with him.

They obeyed, skate guards flying everywhere, even as he stretched an arm out and forced himself to switch off the monitor before turning his full attention to Chris. Sending the celebs out to catch Jayne was a fool's errand at best and they all knew it, but there were five of them and they were upright, which was more than could be said of the pros.

So there was a chance, however slight, that they would get there in time.

Chris had turned into a madman; other than his single cry of her name, he hadn't made a sound, but he was so crazed and desperate to get to Jayne that he'd actually thrown Jodeyne and Brianne to the ground and the other two were rapidly losing the battle to hold him down when Robin spun to face him and grabbed his shoulders, leaning hard against his friend to keep him in the chair.

For his efforts, he took a brutal knock to the chin and was fairly sure his descendants for the next ten generations had just been cursed. But despite the strength that fear had given him, he was losing his grip on a frantic, terrified Christopher Dean when help came from an unexpected source. Nicholas du Lac appeared from nowhere and caught Chris from behind in what looked like some kind of martial arts hold, working in concert with Robin and the girls to keep him in the chair.

Once he was unable to escape their combined hold, Robin met Nick's eyes and they both swallowed. With the monitor turned off — because Robin would stab himself in the heart with a skate before he made Chris watch Jayne die — all they had to go on was sound.

And the rink had gone ominously silent.

Chris was no longer fighting them, but he was tense and brittle beneath their hands, and everyone knew his next reaction would be violent. The only question was whether the detonation would be internal or take out the entire building.

And then there was a single, collective gasp from the audience, followed by—

Nothing.

No screams, no applause, no clapping. No talking.

There wasn't so much as a hint of sound.

As horrified understanding hit everyone in the tunnel, Christopher Dean snapped.

He gave one vicious heave upward, Jayne's name falling from his lips in a choked, desolate gasp, but when he was unable to break free, he went utterly boneless with an anguished sob that shattered everyone who heard it and would have slid out of the chair into a crumpled heap on the floor had Nick and Robin not still been holding onto him.

The girls were crying as they stared at Chris, faces full of stunned disbelief, and the tunnel had gone as quiet as the audience, with everyone just standing in grief-stricken shock, when Kyran skidded in the entrance and snapped, "Chris! Get up here!"

Even under the circumstances, it was funny how everyone jumped at the sound of his voice before turning every which way to see who had just spoken, but the only one who recovered enough to respond was Nick — and only because he was facing that direction to start with.

"What?" he asked harshly, breathing hard and protectively tightening his hold on Chris, who was glassy-eyed and unmoving in his grief.

"Get him out here," Kyran repeated impatiently. "We caught her but she's confused and needs to see him."

Silence.

Then—

"You caught her?!" Robin demanded incredulously, eyes bulging with shock while his hands flexed on his friend's arms.

"Yeah," his fellow judge replied with a nod. "She managed to slow herself down a bit, so we had time to get there. And God knows how, but the audience thinks it's part of the routine, but she needs to make her bow to keep them thinking that, only she needs to see Chris, so h—oh, no," he breathed, finally taking a good look at Jayne's partner. "He doesn't know," he added in an understanding voice.

"No," Robin replied shortly, and Kyran nodded again, needing no further explanation.

While they'd been talking, Nick had gently urged everyone else out of the way so he could get in Chris' line of sight. But Jayne's partner was completely unresponsive; he thought she had hit the ice and was catatonic at the realization that she was gone. Nick knew from bitter experience that there were very few ways to snap someone out of that . . . and even then, there was no guarantee.

But he had to get Chris up and moving. Jayne needed him.

So he turned, frantically searching for a bottle of water and silently thanking God when he saw one, reaching out one long arm to grab it and breathing another 'thank you' when he realized it was chilled. And without further ado, he uncapped it, tipped Chris' head up, and poured the entire contents over his face.

There was an endless moment of shocked stillness, and then he jumped back, barely managing to catch Chris' fist as it headed for his mouth and using the momentum to haul the other man to his feet and spin him in Kyran's direction before taking several prudent steps away.

"Go!" he snapped when he got a murderous look in response. "She needs you!"

"She's dead!" Chris roared before his breath hitched on a sob and he sagged, coming dangerously close to crashing to the ice before Kyran and Robin lunged forward in concert and caught him.

Once he was stable, Kyran grabbed his chin and refused to let him look away.

"No," he said fiercely. "She isn't. We caught her. But she needs you now, so get out there."

Chris just stared blankly at him, clearly not believing him, so Robin muttered a curse and shifted his stance, nodding to Kyran before giving his friend a firm shove that propelled him down the tunnel. Muscle memory took over and Chris caught his balance immediately, skating forward out of habit, but he was still numb and apathetic, so he let Kyran direct him to the entrance to the rink. Once he was safely on his way, Robin pivoted around sharply and switched the monitor on, hoping the cameraman had had the presence of mind to keep filming.

Amazingly, he had, so they all bore witness to the sight of Chris actually seeing that Jayne was alive and well.

It was a moment that was so intimate, so profound, so shockingly passionate, that they all found themselves teary-eyed and suddenly feeling like voyeurs, so they turned away, giving him what little privacy they could. Because they thought they had known, you see, but not a single one of them had truly understood the intensity, the depth, of their feelings. And they hadn't touched. Or even seen each other.

This was Chris realizing that Jayne was alive.

That she hadn't been taken from him.

When the audience gave an almighty roar, the watchers spun back with no small amount of alarm, only to see Jayne waving at the crowd from the shoulders of the four celebrities holding her off the ice, with the four pros kneeling in a circle with their heads thrown back and their arms spread wide. It did indeed look like that was exactly what should have happened and, continuing the trend, the guy running music was just as on top of things as the rest of them: he had somehow worked another minor miracle by ending the song so that it sounded completely natural. This served to put the audience even further under the spell of what they thought was a spectacular performance and they were eager for more. So when Kyran had tried (and failed, because she didn't see him and he didn't have time to wait) to silently ask Jayne if she was okay by raising his fisted hand to get her attention, the arena thought he was asking for silence and were overjoyed to participate in this amazing routine.

Hence, the complete lack of sound, even when he skated away to get Chris, until Jayne acknowledged them.

And as the celebs slowly lowered her to the ice, the wild applause that greeted this action made it obvious that the audience really did think this was all part of the show, to everyone's immense relief. Jayne still didn't realize what had happened, other than the brief moment of danger she'd experienced when Matt jostled the silk, but she was a consummate professional and performer. So even though she was a bit puzzled by what was unmistakably the end of the routine instead of the changeover, not to mention the absence of her partner and his group of pros, she bowed immediately, while the eight skaters who were surrounding her (the celebs on their feet, the pros still kneeling) presented her with proud and unspeakably relieved smiles.

But she had no way of knowing how close they'd all been to disaster, so when she saw Chris, she went utterly motionless for a few tense seconds, simply taking in the emotional trauma he was clearly suffering. Then, as the rink slowly dimmed in preparation for Andy Collins to do a quick stand-up routine, while also taking focus off Chris and Jayne (and giving everyone else the chance to figure out what the hell to do next), she bowed one more time to the screaming, thrilled audience before making her way to her partner, almost flattened from the raw intensity that met her eyes when they locked onto his.

He was staring at her like a man who has been blind his entire life and has just gotten his first look at the sun.

The strength and power of their feelings was absolutely breathtaking and once again, the men not just in the tunnel but on the ice found themselves trying not to cry; the women didn't bother making the effort.

And Kyran, bless the man, had figured out where to stop Chris so that he and Jayne could see each other but the audience wouldn't be able to witness their actual reunion. Thankful beyond words that they weren't filming for the DVD tonight, he caught sight of their little corner of the ice on the overhead monitor and scowled. It took a few seconds to locate the cameraman, but once he did, he gave him a look that promised a lingering, agonizing death if he didn't stop recording Right. This. Instant.

That look jarred Bill out of his own stupor, and, since he wasn't remotely stupid, he did indeed stop recording right that instant, as did the man responsible for the backstage monitor, who happened to be the next camera over. There would be no video footage of this moment, and one shared glance confirmed that no mention of it would ever be made by either man, something that spread like wildfire through the rest of the crew (the loyalty of the DOI company to Chris and Jayne was deep, unswerving, and absolute — and something that would astonish them both if they ever realized it).

The skaters on the ice all turned away, moving to create a barrier by bowing to the audience one final time while also blocking any possible view of the couple despite the rink being almost black now from the dimmed lighting and giving them as much privacy as they could before following them to the tunnel.

Oblivious to everything but Jayne, Chris pulled her so tightly to his chest that he was able to take her full weight with one hand while the other tucked her face against his shoulder, his fingers buried in her hair. Then he actually lifted her off her feet and swayed a little, unable to say anything as he let his body take in the fact that she was alive.

Alive.

She was alive and well and in his arms, and all he could do was hold her and try to breathe.

When she finally wriggled against him in a silent request to be put down, he reluctantly did so and she instantly wrapped her arms back around him, knowing that he still needed the reassurance of her touch, though she had no way of understanding the violent passion radiating from him. But he needed her, so she gave him what comfort she could, given where they were.

Unfortunately, this meant that their hug could only last about a minute before they had to get off the ice. Chris wasn't nearly calm enough to let go of Jayne and he didn't, but she could have asked him to walk off a cliff and he'd do it joyfully and at a dead run, so long as it meant she lived.

And that was what Jayne saw in his eyes when she finally eased back enough to see his face.

But then, she didn't know that he'd seen her start to fall . . . but not the save.

Nor had what almost happened hit her yet, because she was supposed to drop and be caught by four male skaters.

And that was exactly what had occurred. That they were the wrong four male skaters was a fact she remained unaware of for nearly a full day — and things happened so fast, she never actually saw Kyran, which left her totally unaware of what should have happened.

So.

You had a calm, unflapped Jayne Torvill.

And you had an on-edge, barely clinging to sanity Christopher Dean, who had just been hit with a true understanding of something he'd known almost his entire life, but had been given no chance to process it. All he could do was feel. And what he felt was . . . was . . .

He felt—

He didn't know what he was feeling; he knew only that it was hot and violent and intense and rushing over him like a tsunami, obliterating his sense of stability and giving him no solid ground where he could just stand and breathe.

Because Jayne had died. She had left him. But she hadn't. And he simply could not process that. Not yet. No, he—

He needed to be alone with Jayne. Right now. He needed to wrap himself around her so tightly they became one and let her body imprint itself on his, let his lungs take in her scent, and give his fractured soul the time to absorb the fact that she was alive.

Absorb it, and believe it.

She hadn't been taken from him.

He needed that more than he needed to breathe.

So he simply gathered her in a carry, her body curving into his with an effortless, natural ease that soothed his agitation enough that he was finally able to take a deep, full breath for the first time in what felt like days. When she found and held his gaze as he turned and skated back down the tunnel, heading unerringly for his dressing room, he gave her a tiny smile. But his lips were trembling and his eyes were fever-bright, and Jayne was actually afraid to find out what the hell had happened to so thoroughly frighten her partner.

Especially so fast.

Once again, Kyran and Robin were top of things and, while Andy kept right on with the show by improvising a short stand-up set, they worked quickly to clear the corridor of people — or at least get them plastered against the wall, which was unintentionally absurd because it looked a lot stupider in real life — until Chris and Jayne were safely ensconced in a dressing room, though Robin came very close to actually throwing Karen down the hall while he was herding people out of the way.

She had been closeted away with one of the female celebs who had fallen during her skate and so had no idea what had nearly happened. And that wasn't her fault, but his nerves were beyond shot and his temper was on a hair-trigger due to the disaster that should not have happened and, in all honesty, also shouldn't have been averted, so her refusal to accept 'not now' as an answer was in the process of pushing him over the edge.

Luckily for her, Nick — who couldn't stand her on a good day and so could not give less of a damn about her or her opinion — solved the problem by grabbing her arm and hauling her down the corridor with him, firmly pushing her into the 'quick change' dressing room (or Narnia, as the pros irreverently called it) and locking the door before slamming it shut.

If nothing else, it would slow her down for a few minutes.

Then he moved further down to Chris' dressing room and took a position in front of it, making sure no one approached so it was safe for Chris and Jayne to come here. Barely a minute later, the man in question stalked down the hall — on naked blades — carrying his partner, who had one hand curved around his neck and the other cradling his cheek, and their eyes were locked; had Robin not been subtly guiding him, everyone who saw them was sure that Chris wouldn't have gotten past the second entrance before running into and/or tripping over something, his attention was so completely given to Jayne.

The sheer power behind that look had sucked all the air out of the room, so the people still present were actually breathless and awed yet again at the strength of the bond between the two. Nick was not immune to this, but he retained enough wit to know better than trying to talk to Chris as he opened the door for the pair, though he did manage to catch Jayne's sleeve as he stepped aside and whisper, "We can give you thirty minutes," to her, which got him a nod before the door was firmly slammed in his face.

The sound of the lock clicking was so loud, people in Wales heard it.

Robin gave him an approving nod when he gestured a hovering security guard to him and told him in no uncertain terms that no one, up to and including the Prime Minister, so much as knocked on the door of that dressing room unless the building was actually on fire.

Once he was sure the pair would be undisturbed, he headed for the back exit at a fast trot, phone at his ear as he started to make arrangements to get them away and alone after the show, while Robin took a split second to be grateful that he was surrounded by competent people tonight before turning to find Kyran. His intention was to send him out, since they were supposed to skate next anyway and Andy was still doing a short stand-up routine to give them all a few minutes to recover and regroup.

He had to gape when he realized that Brianne had beaten him to it and was already waiting at the arena rink entrance with Kyran, gesturing urgently to the middleman: he was miked and therefore the man who communicated with everyone. And as Robin watched, he clearly told Andy that it was safe to announce the pair, because he wrapped up immediately and did so.

And just like that, the show went on. The male celebs hovered anxiously for a minute, still hyped up and understandably uncertain about what to do now, so Robin thanked them profusely and from the bottom of his heart before he sent them to their dressing room to get ready for their next routine; nothing had changed for them, even if Chris and Jayne didn't dance their second number (which was unlikely, but . . . well. Yes.).

And he wouldn't find out until much later how close the pros, having arrived at the same conclusion, had come to being rendered unable to walk, much less skate, for the rest of their natural lives when Andrei hesitantly suggested to Sam that they go ahead and do the Team Challenge, if only to give Chris and Jayne more time. Matthew had to be physically restrained from punching him, but once he was contained, they all reluctantly agreed that it was a good idea (the reluctance was because the pros suggested it, not because the celebs thought it was a bad idea. This would be a recurring theme for the rest of the tour.).

So Sean was sent to inform his wife, who gave him a look so disappointed and yet so sympathetic, it actually hurt, before going off to tell the other skaters, while he let Andy know, so he could get the music and Biggins prepped as well as figure out where to put them so it wasn't hideously out of place.

But Robin was blissfully unaware of this and as the tunnel emptied, he caught sight of Vicky barreling to the arena entrance like she was giving speed-skating a try, only to return not even thirty seconds later and promptly make for Jayne's dressing room.

Unable to fathom what in the hell she was doing, he blinked and said, "What on earth—?"

She didn't bother looking at him as she waved — skate guards? — over her shoulder before opening Jayne's door, just called, "She'll need her next costume and makeup kit and I'm getting them so she doesn't have to mess with it."

. . . right.

Unwilling to ask the obvious question (or hear the equally obvious answer), he just shrugged before finally turning his attention to the reason for the entire fucking nightmare.

The male professionals stood in a silent, shame-filled line, unable to meet his eyes for more than a second, and Robin gave them a look of such mingled disgust and disappointment, they all took an actual step back.

"It's not the fall," he finally said, his voice so icy the rink felt a little inadequate. "It's that not one of you had enough wits to get up and at least try to catch her. We were all back here and they got there faster than you lot recovered."

He didn't reference the fact that they'd managed to help turn potential disaster into a triumph because every single one of them knew full well that those actions had been nothing but showmanship. Quick thinking, yes, but ultimately useless.

The silence deepened, as did the shame.

Robin let it linger until even he felt uncomfortable before he proceeded to put the fear of God (and, more importantly, Torvill and Dean) into them.

"If you have a brain in your heads, you won't go near Jayne, you won't look at Jayne — hell, you won't think her name — until Chris has calmed down," he told them, observing with malicious glee the collective flinch he got, followed by hard swallows and more than one queasy look.

Then he went for the jugular.

"And if you don't want to be castrated with a dull skate, you'll stay the fuck away from Chris until Jayne says otherwise," he finished, and smirked with vicious satisfaction when all four of them went fish-belly white.

But not one single objection was expressed, so Robin had to be content with that as he sent them off to find their partners and get ready for the rest of the show.

It wasn't much, unfortunately, but it was all he could do for his friends right now.

God willing, it would be enough.

July 24, 2012

The day that Phil Christensen was served with divorce papers, Chris was with Jayne.

The timing had fortuitously worked out not only that Kieran was at some science camp for the week and Jessica was on a four-day playdate/camping thing with the other girls from her Reception class, but the DOI Olympic athletes showcase had been two days before, so he was already in town and planning to stay for his birthday, which was only three days out. When she had expressed trepidation at this, he had said only, "Fuck him. Like hell I'm leaving you alone today," and she hadn't protested again, despite the fact that she had several friends who would have been happy to provide support for her and lived considerably closer than America. And who Phil didn't utterly despise. Including Nick, but he had only given her a relieved, understanding smile when she told him that Chris was insistent about it. The profanity had startled her somewhat, as it wasn't typical of her partner, but it also warmed her heart because she was the only one he would curse for (but not at; 'cursing at' was reserved for people who weren't Jayne).

Had they mentioned that their relationship was unique?

They had, after a short discussion, chosen to barricade themselves in his flat (the doorman and gate guard having been given strict instructions to refuse entry should Phil turn up), which looked remarkably like a road trip gone mad: snacks covered every flat surface within arms' reach of the couch, there was enough alcohol to sink (or was it float?) the Titanic, and an impressive number of chick-flicks and bad horror movies was piled next to the telly. There were also some old-time records — as in actual vinyl, need-a-record-player-to-work records — when they couldn't stand their stomachs churning from the movies any longer.

Jayne was currently curled into her partner's chest, idly nibbling on a piece of a very nice, mature white cheddar while they watched the last few minutes of a rom-com even she admitted was bad. To his credit, Chris had been completely accepting of his fate; not only had he indulged her desire for mindless fluff, he hadn't given so much as an annoyed sigh, never mind the sarcasm she'd waited the entire movie to hear (and secretly hoped for; his acidic observations tended to be both hilarious and accurate).

As though reading her mind, he groaned into her hair with comical relief as the movie finally ended and gently shifted her off his chest, coming to his feet and padding to the bathroom while she finished her glass of wine and debated the merits of music or a (hopefully) better rom-com for their next outing while carefully ignoring the fact that her phone hadn't gone off yet with Phil's ringtone and just as carefully pretending that this didn't worry her. Chris' hand coming to rest on her shoulder startled her and she jumped, giving him an indignant look when he grinned, smugly pleased with himself at catching her off-guard.

But his expression shifted immediately into something serious and he held her eyes with unusual gravity as he settled on the couch, taking her hands in his and pulling them to his chest as he leaned back against the cushion, drawing her with him, so they were at a comfortable tilt but facing each other.

Suddenly nervous, she licked her lips as she watched him and swallowed hard when he let her look, as patient as time itself while she wrestled with her answer to what she knew he was going to ask.

But even time ran out eventually.

"Tell me, Jayne," he said quietly, his eyes full of compassion but also blazing with resolve. "I've waited because I know how brutal this has been, and you had to deal with that. But you need to tell me, and I need to know. It's time."

Slowly, she nodded, because he was right.

So she took a long drink from a chilled bottle of water and, steadily holding his eyes while he tenderly stroked her palms, began.

April 19, 2012

Jayne was only vaguely aware of her surroundings as Chris carried her down the tunnel to his dressing room. His eyes were holding hers, burning like a supernova, and they were the only thing she could see.

She still didn't understand why he was so on edge (he didn't even stop for his skate guards!), but a breakdown was clearly imminent, so she cupped his cheek with her free hand, knowing that her touch would ground him . . . and as fast as he was moving, that grounding should last until they got some privacy.

She heard Nick's promise of thirty minutes in a bit of a daze and Chris just ignored him entirely, slamming the door behind them with a finality that would have alarmed anyone else.

Jayne wasn't 'anyone else' and was therefore thrilled to hear that slam, instead of a carefully controlled 'click'. It meant that he was no longer teetering on the brink of . . . she still wasn't sure what, but this was a positive sign.

She reconsidered her thought when he set her down on the bed so carefully, she almost didn't realize he was no longer carrying her — until he went to his knees at her feet and buried his face in her neck as his arms clamped so tightly around her that she actually had trouble breathing for a minute. Mystified and more than a little worried, she ran her fingers though his hair, knowing how calming he found it, and lost herself in the soothing motions as well . . . only for a choked sob to escape his lips, followed by another and another, and then he was crying like his heart was breaking, the precarious hold on his control that he'd managed to maintain against unbearable pressure finally shattering in the safety of her embrace.

Shocked, she tried to pull back but his grip was unyielding, so she lowered her cheek to the top of his head and kept her breathing regular and steady, relieved beyond words when his fell quickly fell into sync. It didn't stop his tears, though, and after a few minutes, her concern finally made her draw back enough to cradle his face and force him to look at her.

The desolation in his eyes brought tears to her own, but it was the unfettered joy behind it that choked her up. In all their years together, all the joys and triumphs, the sorrows and tragedies, she had never seen such a crushing — and devastating — deluge of emotions from her partner.

"Chris—" she started to ask, only to be cut off when he roughly removed her skates and his, then surged to his feet and, in one of those lithe moves he was so damned good at, slipped onto the bed behind her and pulled her down with him, curving his body completely around hers so that she was wrapped in an actual cocoon of Christopher Dean.

"Shh," he breathed in her ear, somehow managing to pull her even closer. "I just — I have to hold you, Jayne. I have to know you're real."

"Okay," she whispered back, going pliant and molding herself to him even as he shook against her back, the strength of his emotions still overwhelming him. Her heart ached yet again for his pain and she pressed more firmly into him, offering what comfort she could with her body.

Only to realize with shock that he was hard.

And he was making no attempt to hide it.

But he said nothing, nor did he move, and Jayne herself went very still. She wasn't sure she even breathed for a minute. He hadn't stopped trembling and she could hear how thick his breath was with unshed tears, and she was well and truly alarmed now. She still didn't know what had caused this trauma, but it no longer mattered. He needed to believe, to know, that she was alive and real and with him, and holding her clearly wasn't enough.

She bit her lip as this realization spread through her whole being, then carefully twisted enough to see his face without pulling loose from his embrace. Those brilliant hazel eyes were black with everything he was feeling, but he met her gaze without flinching and they simply looked into each other for a short eternity before Jayne lifted her right hand up to caress his cheek. His eyes fell closed as he nuzzled into her palm and she licked her lips as she allowed herself to accept what he might need from her.

But she never hesitated.

If this was what he needed to become whole again, to come back to sanity and be her partner, her other half, she would gladly give it to him, and without a second of indecision or regret.

So she stroked his dimple with her thumb before brushing her lips against his to get his attention. He stopped breathing and his eyes flew open, and their gazes locked while time stopped around them.

"Will it help?" Jayne finally murmured, and felt him swallow hard. But his eyes never wavered as he nodded, though they did fill with hope and a fervent resolve, and she gave him a tender smile.

"Then take what you need, Chris," she whispered, and when he groaned in unspeakable relief and crushed her against his chest, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to him in complete surrender and total, unconditional trust.