Four Leaf Clover – 26

Summary: Started from Trinity's challenge of J/N engaging in an affair behind the Evangeline's back (she's, thankfully, dead now). James Moretti kidnapped Natalie. John went in unarmed to save Natalie. A fire broke out. Rex saved John. Moretti's body was not found in the burned club.

A/N: I'm totally appreciating the writers on this list. I'm reading this other fandom fic right now and it's pretty bad…and I don't know why I can't stop...must write something…

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After they had eaten their fill, they sat across the half-empty pizza box looking at each other.

"I'm all right, John."

John sighed and closed the pizza box. "You're safe, but you're not all right. Will you tell me what happened with Moretti?" He put his hand down on the table near hers and waited.

It was on the tip of Natalie's tongue to say that she had given her statement already, but she stopped herself. John deserved better. Their relationship deserved better. She just didn't know if she could go back there herself. She stood up and put their plates in the dishwasher then she stood over the sink fighting off the insistent claws of weariness that dragged at her soul.

John got up and put the box in the fridge without bothering to wrap them up knowing they would either have a midnight snack of the cold pizza or breakfast. He took out two more beers and turned to face her. Part of him wanted to let her off the hook. To tell her she could keep her secrets or that they could do it tomorrow. Or some other time that would never come. But he knew what untold secrets did to a soul and now that they had been dredged up they'd be all that much harder to bury again. He rubbed the bullet wound in his gut in silent affirmation.

John put the beers on the counter and put his hand on Natalie's neck. She was cold and he could practically feel the fear emanating off her. He slid his fingers through her hair and pulled out the makeshift pony tail. She closed her eyes and sighed as he combed through her tangles and sent shivers up and down her spine. He pressed a kiss to her temple and pressed himself against her side.

She turned her head and looked at him, her blue eyes full of shame and anger.

In that instant he could see the sixteen year old tough she must have been, the one who James Moretti had taken such pleasure in breaking. What little John knew of what happened, he knew that much. He bitterly resented that he hadn't killed or imprisoned the son of a bitch before he had ever gotten the chance.

Sensing his anger, Natalie turned her body and pressed herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He heard the small breath she let out as she felt his arousal pulsing against her. He wanted to explain that it wasn't just about sex, but about life and death. He slid his other hand through her hair and tilted her head back. Now, he could see need darkening her breathtaking eyes.

He took a deep breath and moved his hips back. Insistently she followed, once again grinding into him. Her breath was shallow now and it was only the sheer force of will that held back his need to drown in her. She had already been hurt enough, today and back then, he couldn't compound that with his reckless desire.

"I need you, John." She licked her lips and dug her fingers into the back of his head. She ground herself against him again.

He couldn't bite back a groan and he closed his eyes, steeling himself. Her hands moved down to his cheeks and she shook his head, forcing him to open his eyes.

"Erase what he's done."

He searched her eyes for any uncertainty. There was none.

As hot and fast as the fire in the club was the lust flaring between them. Their lips met and devoured. Natalie gasped and moaned as she ground herself against him, practically climbing his body. Their lips never parted as they tore off their own shirts and then reached to help the other with their pants. In a flash he was lifting her hips and she was impaling herself on his hot hardness. They crashed against the counter and then lurched to the kitchen table, a sturdy antique wood table that her mother had given them as a housewarming present little suspecting the weight it would carry. Natalie barely felt the smack of the wood at her back as they pounded at each other. She was only conscious of the pulsing climb of her impending orgasm and the feel of John's inside her. The feel of his quakes triggered her own spasms and her consciousness ebbed and flowed in flashes of color and light.

Oblivion was a bliss from which she did not want to return. But eventually the hard wood and John's weight dragged her back. She wasn't sure who she was as she lay there with him still between her legs. Was she the illicit lover? The loving girlfriend? Or the girl so far in over her head all she could taste was her own vomit as the sound of gunshots and trashy music rang in her ears? Or was she someone else entirely, someone she had never met?

John's words of apology invaded her broken thoughts. She whimpered as he pulled out of her and his weight lifted. It was, she thought, the only thing holding her together. She grasped his arms. "Please."

"Shhhh." He whispered and picked her up and carried her down the hall to their master bathroom.

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She seemed to come back to herself when the water hit her body, but John was still worried at her unresponsiveness.

"Hey, Buchanan." He ran his soapy hands over her body causing the sweat and ash to melt off her skin and disappear down the drain. "You with me?"

"Yeah. Yeah." Natalie and her eyes focused on him. "I'm so tired."

"I know, baby. But you need to stay awake a bit longer."

She looked at him and he was relieved to see the sharpness return to her eyes. She leaned back against the tile of the shower, the light diffused through the glass block wall across from her made her look ethereal and he caught his breath at the sheer beauty of her. She was his Natalie and was always beautiful to him for who she was that sometimes he forgot what a head turner she was.

"I'm a lucky bastard."

"Yeah?" She seemed pleased with the declaration so he followed it up with a playful grin. "Is this going to be the confessional?" She waved her hand around the tile and glass shower stall.

"Up to you."

She ran her eyes up and down his body, raising the temperature of the confined space noticeably. Then with a disappointed shrug she reached behind him to turn off the water. "We might as well be warm and dry for this." She caressed him lightly before turning and opening the door.

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When Natalie was done John had held on to her until she fell asleep. She didn't cry through her recitation, though he thought she should be. Lord knows he wanted to. To cry for what the girl had been through and to rejoice in the woman she had become. So many didn't.

Survivors, they both were. Like had recognized like the moment they had set eyes on each other. Through the lies and the facades, that had been undeniable. More than survivors, John thought as he breathed in her scent and smoothed her silky skin with his hands.