Wham. He pushed her up against a tree. But if it hurt, she didn't feel it. All she felt, was him. Her senses were unusually heightened to his touch, his smell, his taste. The feeling of his hands on her waist drove her crazy, as if his hands were on fire. Because sure enough they burned her. But the fire did not burn of heat. It burned of passion.

She tore at the fly on his jeans, identifying it as the only thing standing between her and Jack. With equal fury he unzipped hers. And before either of them could draw a breath, he was in her. She gasped, her hands under his shirt pushing harder on his back, pushing him deeper into her.

His kisses left her burning, her lips, her cheek, her neck. Her head couldn't process anything more than Jack. Blood was trickling down her arm, presumably from a cut on her shoulder. But she couldn't feel it. And for once, Jack didn't become the doctor. For once he didn't try to fix her . He didn't care. He knew she couldn't feel it, knew that she, like him, was thinking of nothing but that moment.

It started to rain above them, the clear sky suddenly grey and hard, cold drops drenching them instantly. The tree provided little shelter, rain ripping through the leaves like bullets through air.

But again, they didn't care. The icy water replaced the sweat on their bodies, but the fire radiating from them had soon heated it against their skin. He tore his lips from hers, moving his head back slightly so he could meet her gaze. She was ready. He could see it in her eyes. He began to move, pushing her a little further up the tree each time. She tipped her head to the side, her eyes closed and her mouth open and her breath coming in ragged gasps every time he touched her. He watched her, savouring her expression of ecstasy as he drove her closer and closer to the edge.

He loved that she was like this. He loved that it was he that was making her eyes flutter open and close every time he moved, that it was he who was causing her to breathe irregularly and moan in his ear. That it was he who was now the only thing she was thinking about.

His hands were underneath her shirt, rubbing across her toned stomach. She grabbed his hands in hers and pulled them up to her breasts, sliding them beneath her bra and pushing them against her.

His own pleasure came in pleasuring Kate. She was all he wanted; all he needed. She was his world. He leaned forward again and gently caressed her tongue with his own, almost coming as she moaned in his mouth. Not without her…

"Kate" he whispered against her lips, her soft sweet lips. "Are you…"

She nodded her head, breathing in heavily and squeezing her eyes tightly closed. His hands had slipped across her wet skin down to her waist, and he was gripping her hips tightly. Almost as an afterthought she removed her hands from beneath his shirt, bringing them up to his face. Looking into his eyes, she mouthed three words that Jack had waited forever to hear. They seemed even more perfect when he saw them on her lips. Closing his eyes, he leaned his mouth on her forehead, whispering them back. He'd never meant anything more in his life.

And then they came. Together, with her hands fisted in his shirt and his gripping her waist tightly, the sweat and rain running off them.

He opened his eyes, staring into her beautiful face. Almost reluctantly he pulled away from her, feeling incomplete when she was no longer surrounding him. He zipped himself up, as did she. But she still hadn't opened her eyes.

Breathing in shakily, her eyes finally fluttered open. When they met his, he was horrified to see the terror in them. Before he could tighten his grip on her she had sprung away, recoiling in confusion from what just happened. Giving him one last look, she turned on her heel and ran away into the trees, leaving him standing and staring after her.

He felt sick. It was the kiss, all over again. She'd run away…again. Whatever he had expected it wasn't this. He hated her. He hated her, for running from him. He hated her because she ran from him when he loved her. Slowly cracking, he began to cry. He loved her, and he felt as if she had just thrown everything he'd ever given her back in his face. Had what had just happened meant nothing to her? Was it just another mistake, like the kiss so obviously was? Just another fuck-up from a fucked-up criminal. The sound of a twig breaking caused him to look up, and his fury disappeared, suddenly non-existent.

Because walking back to him through the trees was Kate. Through the rain he was blind to her tears, but he could feel them. White and shaking, she walked forward slowly, her soaking wet clothes clinging to her body. Her body that only minutes before had been shuddering with pleasure. Pleasure that he had given her. There was blood now all over her right arm, but he barely noticed. He was too preoccupied with her.

She stood before him, staring up into his eyes fearfully. But defiant. Almost as if she was saying 'I didn't run away. I'm here now. I came back.' Feeling as if his heart would burst he grabbed her, pulling her to him so hard he almost feared she would break. She looked so delicate, so fragile. Lifting her up he buried his head in her chest, eventually lowering her so that he could kiss her.

Of all the kisses they had shared, that was the most important. He had fixed her. She'd come back to him, because he'd fixed her. But it was more than what had happened with Sarah. He loved her. His existence depended on Kate, and he knew that he'd never leave her. If he had to break her out of fucking prison, one day, he knew he'd do it without hesitation. But he knew she wouldn't leave him. He'd fixed her; and now she didn't have to run away. They belonged together.