The Safe Bet, by chibiness87
Rating: T.
Series/Spoilers: Set S.25 ep.2 (History part 2)
Disclaimer: Not mine. I would have at least had a kiss *somewhere* in the 6 hours…

Summary: The riskiest roll of the dice is the one you have yet to make.


"You know that saying, what happens in Vegas. Well. If you wanted it to apply here…"

He doesn't finish the thought, leaves that to her, and for one moment all she can feel is relief. Because she knew, she knew, how this was going to end. With him leaving her. The ones she loves always leave her, in the end. Sometimes for little things, sometimes for the really big things.

Sometimes for things she has no idea how to process and then gets annoyed when the he in question doesn't understand it either.

So when Jack sits there on the edge of the bed, dressed down for the night and gives her an out, for a heartbeat she wants to take it. Take it and the memory of their one perfect night together and run for the hills. Hide away before he, she can be hurt by the inevitable. Let's herself think about stepping back, stepping away. And then her heart thumps, painful and crushing in her chest, and she realises with dawning dread she can't.

Can't give him up. Won't give him up.

"What makes you ask that?"

It's not an answer, or at least, it's not the right one. But before she can call him back, before she can utter the word that will destroy her (Stay), he leaves.

It's a relief, she tells herself firmly. It's what she wants. To get out before she hurts him. Before she does something else he can't look past, another secret he can't contend with.

Tom and the baby… it's ancient history really. She doesn't mention it to anyone because it doesn't matter. She's not a mother and she's not a wife and she's not… anything. She's not anything, and she doesn't know how to deal with a guy who knows everything about her, the night terrors and the panic attacks and the deep seated feeling she just isn't good enough, and wants to be with her anyway.

Is in love with her anyway.

Because as much as she pretends to be ignorant, she knows. Knows that when he gasped those forbidden words against her last night as he moved as deep as anyone has ever been, deeper and more perfect than she has ever felt, he meant every one, even though she's sure he never meant to tell her. Not then. Not like that.

But then, last night was the most honest they have ever been, the most stripped down, the most bare, and not just because they were naked.

She still has a dull ache in her thighs, a tenderness in her flexors and abductors from when he pushed that little bit further, made her arch that little bit higher.

She's getting wet just thinking about it, and no one, no one, has ever had that effect on her.

The light from laptop dulls, inactivity making the screen go dark, and it suddenly hits her how long she's been sitting here.

Pining after a man who is literally yards away like she will never see him again, and knowing it's all her fault. For once, there is no one else she can point to as the source of her isolation. She has pushed expecting him to push back like he always, always has, only the rules have changed with that one fateful admission (I kissed you) and she no longer knows what game they are playing.

Is it even a game at all?

They exchanged room keys on arrival, just like they've exchange house keys every time one of them moves. It's sitting innocuous on the desk, a future in the shape of a piece of plastic no bigger than her credit card, if she can only be brave enough to take it.

She sits and stares at it, waiting for the answer, unaware for too long the truth is staring her in the face. Tries to tell herself it's for the best. Has almost made herself believe it, when her phone, all but forgotten at her elbow, beeps its low battery chime, startling her.

It's later than she thought, or earlier than she realised, and she knows it's a bad idea now. He'll be asleep, in bed at the very least, but she doesn't want to do this. Doesn't want to lose him before she's ever really had him, and no. No, this time she won't let herself get in the way of her happiness.

Assuming, of course, he still wants her after all of this.

Key card in hand, she slips her own out of the power slot by the door and in to her pocket. Steps out into the hall, walks the few yards that suddenly feels like miles. The little light on the reader to his door blinks red, red, green, and a lock clicks.

Deep breath, hand on the door, trying to get herself to open it before the lock times out when it opens from within. He's there, awake and hopeful and God, how was she ever supposed to try to give this up?

"I'm staying," she says to his chest. Knows the words are wrong. Still. Knows he needs more. Deserves more. Takes a deep breath, gathers all the courage she can. Glances up to his face and drowns in his eyes. Says three words. "This isn't Vegas."

It's better, still not great, not completely right, and she wants to say more. Wants to say yes and she meant it, what she hasn't ever said to him but hopes he knows anyway, wants to say you're it for me too and I'm sorry it took so long to get here but I'm in this. If you're in this then I'm in this forever too, but she can't.

Can't say any of it, because as soon as she finished stating what this isn't, he'd swooped down from his truly excessive height (seriously, who needs to be that tall?) and captured her mouth with his. And it's like fireworks are going off in her brain, in her blood. No one kisses her like Jack, like she is his very air and he might drown without her.

Deep and consuming and soft and sweet and everything in between. He kisses her like he can't believe this is happening, like he can't believe this is real, and she knows, oh, she knows exactly what he means.