A/N: Okay, I don't know if some are still reading this apart from me and my Beta (Thx again to you!). But in this one is more Jack and more action. I hope you like it. Please let me know if you do! Pretty Please! And there are only two more Chapters to follow. But I have a sequel planned. Let me know if you like to read one. Your Dela

CHAPTER FOUR

And so I turned and made one step away from him and then another and then the next until I reached my car and drove away.

It hurt more than I thought. To know that I left him, standing there, thinking about what decision I had made for the two of us. It hurt to know that I risked, knowingly, something that could turn out to be great. He had to hate me. I hated myself.

No wait!

My heart told me to go back and tell Jack that I was really thinking too much and that we would come up with something and that everything would be just wonderful and full of green grass, flowers and slow motion skipping. So that would mean being with Jack and that would make me feel... dare I say... happy!

But my mind told me run for dear life. To think it all over until I'd decide for the safe, not heart wrenching, not complicated way and just never meet this man again.

But that... would that make me happy? No.

So, the conclusion is. It was my mind's fault. I hated my mind! I had nothing... absolutely nothing to do with that.

Yeah, okay... not the best argument... I know, darn.

Well I know all that now, but that night running seemed to be the only way to deal with this whole "Beverly Hills 90210" drama.

So I left for Bali two days after the eventful night. I kept myself busy. I worked non stop. I didn't take the breaks my body sometimes demanded. I knew that I had told Jack to think about all of this and that I was too coward to do so myself. I just didn't know what I wanted. Because when I would let myself go through my feelings for him I either came up with "I want him, to hell with the consequences!" or "This is never going to work. Don't get deeper into that before it hurts too much!" and I didn't know which one I liked better. Both sides had their rightness but both sides had one thing in common: They assumed that no matter what Jack and I wouldn't work out.

After the third week I wasn't able to not think about it anymore. My return home wasn't so far away and the reunion with Jack was just as close. At night I sometimes almost got claustrophobic when I was without any distractions, left alone with my thoughts.

The facts were: I was way younger than he was. What could we have in common? We would bore each other to death after the hot sex phase was over, assuming that there was something like a hot sex phase of course, when we would find out that we had nothing to talk about.

Fact number two: Even if we could overcome this talking problem, sooner or later he would see the little Hannah in me again and after that he would inevitable think about the child he had lost. I would be the daily reminder of his dead child. Tell me, which relationship survives that?

Fact three: Jack, as long as I can think, had always been the ideal father figure for me. Even in the ten years I hadn't seen him I always, when I needed fatherly advise or wanted to know something about boys or sports or... gee, anything else a father would know, I thought: "I wish Jack was here!". And now I was starting to fall in love with him. It's natural that I was confused, right?

There was only one way to solve this problem: I had to really talk with Jack. After that I still could decide what to do. Yeah, that was a plan. Good idea. I had a plan. Wow. The first thing I'd say when I first saw him, so I imagined, would be: "Jack, we need to talk!" Woohoo, I had a plan. Okay, I admit I could have talked to him earlier, but I had no idea that he was interested so... well better later than never, right?

Now, as I told you before: Things don't always work out the way you plan them!

I returned home. I arrived at the airport and almost expected Jack to wait at the entrance for my arrival. But on second thoughts why should he? I never told him when I was about to return.

So, first things first. I was tired, hungry and smelly. These hotels we stayed in where not the most comfortable ones. So I needed a good nights sleep, one or two tons to eat and a hot, long, relaxing bath.

When I got home, fumbling with my keys on my apartment door I called Rebecca to tell her that I arrived home safely.

"Hey, Becca. I'm at home. So no need to worry."

"Crap!" I swore under my breath because the door didn't open no matter how hard I tried.

"What's up?" she asked. I groaned. Why did I call her again? I didn't need that.

"I'm exhausted, I want to sleep and this stupid door simply doesn't work, Becca."

"So you're at home? Like in at you apartment home?" she asked. What was wrong with this woman? Of course I was at home, that was the reason I called her. Oh right, I remembered the reason. Cool.

"Yes!" I hissed.

I still tried to open that damn door, with my cell phone balanced between my shoulder and my cheek and two bags still dangling from the other shoulder.

"Excellent!" she exclaimed way louder than my ears could handle at my momentary state of wakefulness.

And suddenly my front door burst open, ripping the keys that were already in the lock out of my hands.

From my crouching position I looked up at a gleaming Rebecca who just switched her damn cell phone off.

"Perfect..." I mumbled and stumbled with my bags clenched in my hands in my apartment. Becca didn't help me carry them. I just can't remember why we were friends right now... must have slipped my mind.

To add up to my not very helpful friend my other not helpful friends were there, too.

Peachy!

Yeah... home sweet damn, full of people, home. Shit!

That really was the last thing I needed. They all sat in my living room/kitchen, drinking wine... my wine and had the time of their lives as it seemed. I didn't need company now, least guests I had to serve.

"Hey guys. Whatta you doing here?"

"Relax, Hannah. This is just a welcome back party. You don't have to do anything. Just enjoy the show. You were gone for so long and missed two Ladies Nights. So we thought that we could do a little catch up."

Nice idea in theory but not when all you wanted was to be left alone and just have a little peace. Only for a while. I didn't demand too much, did I?

They forced me to sit down on my couch and began to update me on everything that had happened.

I didn't get the half of it because I after good twenty minutes fell into a nice, peaceful slumber.

My grumbling stomach awoke after some time. The girls were still there, unfortunately, but were busy doing something, anything, I didn't care, in the kitchen and front door. Luckily they had brought some pizza and left some (now cold) on the couch table. Hungrily I snatched one piece and gulped it as fast as possible.

After I finished the nice bit of a double cheese double onion tuna pizza I took my chance and slipped into my bathroom where my bath tub was waiting for me.

"I'm taking a bath!" I called out to them before I looked myself in for a hot bubble bath.

I switched on the CD player while the water was already running. The rhythm of Blues engulfed me and I relaxed immediately.

The next one and a half hours I was indispensable. Nothing but the lavender smell of my bath salt and the guitar sounds of Mister Eric Clapton made it up to my brain.

After that I got ready. Well, I wrapped the bath robe around me and tied my hair up in an untidy bundle.

Content and calmed I stepped out of my bathroom, deep in thought about if I should drive over to Jack's today or wait until tomorrow to talk to him.

I don't want to spoil anything for you but someone answered this question without my knowledge.

When I got into my living-room smell of food reached nostrils. Frowning I followed this smell into my kitchen where I found him.

Yeah, him.

Standing at the stove he was so engrossed in his cooking that he didn't hear me at first. At least I thought so. But as a Air-Force Colonel he probably felt my presence the moment I left the bathroom.

"Jack?" I dared to speak, trusting my voice after the first moments of shock passed.

He turned only slightly, acknowledging me.

"Hey!" he only said.

"How...?"

"Rebecca... that's her name I think, let me in."

Gosh, this woman. I knew something was going on when I found her here. I had to do a serious talk with the young Lady some time soon. After I talked to Jack, of course.

"Here, taste!" he said and ripped me out of my daydreams of how I was going to kill my so called friend.

I was dumb-stuck for a moment before I realized that he held a spoon with red sauce on it out for me.

I obeyed and stepped closer, instantly feeling my knees go all wobbly and jello like due to his proximity. I tried it and was positively surprised at how good it actually tasted.

He must have seen my astonishment because he chuckled and turned back to the stove with the words: "As a bachelor you have to learn how to cook."

I had to smile at this. He always made me smile. I like to smile. I want to smile all the time.

"It really is good." I confirmed and he nodded.

"Thanks!"

"You're welcome."

And then he turned and looked at me with a look that was so intense and demanding that when he asked: "Really?" I only was only able to say an honest:

"Yes."

He stared at me for another moment and then went back to the cooking.

I was not entirely sure about what happened but I think I passed... what ever it was because after that he didn't say a word.

I watched him work and wondered whether I should use the silence to start with "The Talk", or if I should wait until I was able to speak louder than my stomach grumbled.

"This really, really smells good." I tried to break the silence of the moment.

"Just a few minutes and it's..." he said and was suddenly standing right in-front of me.

Air? Where did the air suddenly go?

"I need something from the fridge!" His voice was low, he swallowed hard and watched my face though he really tried to look me in the eye.

I remembered leaning against the fridge when I arrived... but everything apart from that was lost. What might he want from the fridge? Surely he needed something cold because it was darn hot here so abrupt.

'Talk!' I told myself over and over again. 'Just talk!'

But I completely lost my breath. I wanted to talk to him, I really did but somehow it all went a completely different direction.

All of a sudden I found myself pressed up against the cold door of said refrigerator.

What's a refrigerator?

All rational thought slipped my mind.

His one hand held my face his other held me in place at the cold making dohikey thing.

"Hannah, I want you..." he said, almost whispered, the sentence, leaving it unfinished. His eyes lowering their gaze to where he held me and my heaving chest. Uncertainty written all over his face.

"Want me to... what?" I breathed, feeling his hand on my face stroking me softly.

His look became slightly distant before he focused again and was more clear and resolute than I have seen him in a long time.

"I just want you. Nothing more."

And after that my intend of talking to him was no more.

He leaned down and at the same time guided my face up where our lips met. Forcefully he pressed his lips on mine but I had nothing object. I answered with the same boldness and grabbed his collar.

This was bliss and agony all at once because this felt so good but I wanted more of it. So much more.

The longer we kissed the more passionate the kissing became. Everything got unleashed: the want, the desire to do something we could regret afterwards without further consideration, his frustration that I had to think too much and my frustration that I had to think too much.

I felt him everywhere. My skin became so sensitive that I could feel his touch before it happened.

His lips left my mouth only to explore my neck and my shoulder that was exposed because I only wore a dressing gown. And those don't stay at the place they are supposed to under this kind of treatment.

He grabbed my hip with both of his hands and pushed me further up the fridge and I slid one leg around his waist so we were pressed as tight against each other as we could.

Sometime ago I had begun to yank his shirt from his pants and had sneaked my hands under his shirt to caress his skin.

Then without a warning he withdrew.

His body spoke volumes. He was, like me, gasping for air. He wanted more, just like me. But his face, he looked at me through desire fogged eyes and I could see that they were observing me for any signs of regret or doubts.

I made sure he wouldn't find any.

Because I didn't feel any.

I made a step towards him, rising, standing on my tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"Jack, I want you..." I left the sentence as open as he had done, though I did it intentionally.

"Want me to... what?" he breathed, repeating my words.

"I want you to come with me now..." I whispered in his ear.

I could feel him shiver. I was almost proud that I could make a U.S: Air-Force Colonel shiver.

Slowly I walked around him to my bedroom, not once turning to see if he followed.

I sat down on my bed, opening the knot of my bathrobe when I heard the bedroom door being closed...

...from the inside.