Jack crossed to the bed, and collapsed on it, kicking off his boots and lying silently, staring huffily at the ceiling. Tara, on the other hand, had questions to ask.

"What are we doing?" she hissed.

"Spending the night here, and escaping in the morning," he replied in a blunt, quiet voice.

She rolled her eyes and sat in the chair. "Typical. Perfect. I've never heard a plan which could go quite so wrong."

His eyes snapped down to her. "Ye think o' a better one, let me know, savvy?"

She glared at him. "You're more stupid sober than you are when drunk."

He shrugged. "What would ye know?"

Her lips fell into a pout. "What would I know? What would I know? I was bloody engaged to you!"

"Was. Past tense."

"And who is to blame for that?" she hissed.

"Who called it off?"

"Who murdered my mother?"

He sat up angrily, his eyes dark with fury. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Don't yer dare, dare bring her into it. I loved yer mother. It was a mistake."

"What was a mistake, Jack? Loving her... or killing her?"

His eyes misted over with sadness. "Both. I never should have killed her... because it made me loose you, I never should have loved her... because I love you."

Tara turned her head away, tears filling her eyes. She was melting, she was going to forgive Jack... and she couldn't. She chewed her lips to keep from saying those three words, and closed her eyes. She jumped when she felt his hands on her shoulders, and slowly opened her eyes to see that he was leaning over her, his face an inch or so from her own. She raised her eyes to his, and felt her stomach melt.

She threw her hands around the back of his head and raised herself up from the chair, pressing her lips against his forcefully, kissing him with such passion that her lips were sore, tearing at his hair with the hatred she felt for him. He kissed her back with the same wild, painful passion, clawing at her neck in response to the pain she was causing him.

He pulled away finally, turning away from her, and she fell limp into the chair, hugging herself, tears rolling silently down her cheeks, blood pouring down her chin. She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the pain, the hurt, the hatred, the love.... Jack....

Her eyes flew open as she felt a rag being used to clean her chin, and saw that Jack was crouched beside her chair, gingerly cleaning her face. She saw that his lips were torn and swollen, much like her own.

"Jack..." she whispered.

He didn't look at her, just continued wiping at her chin. "I'm sorry."

She sighed. She gently prised his wrist away from her face. "I think we should just avoid each other once this is over," she said softly. "It was working that way."

He watched her sadly, then shrugged. "Fine. Whatever, luv. Whatever."

She stood up and crossed to the bed. She lay down on it. Jack blew out all the candles and watched in the dark as Tara fell asleep. Once she was asleep, he climbed onto the bed beside her and lay down too. He couldn't resist kissing her cheek gently, feeling her smooth skin under his torn lips.

"Yer told me yer loved me," he whispered.