So this idea came to me out of the blue. Well, not really out of the blue. I've been re-watching 24 after having found it on Prime and am just finishing season 2 now. The Jack – Kate pairing has always been my favourite pairing and in watching the season again, I think her character is underrated. She went through so much that day and was pretty tough through it all – especially for someone who was not a trained agent and had not been prepared for any of what happened in that day. In watching that season again, I thought that their relationship seemed even more well-suited than what I had appreciated the first time around. She was probably better suited and better able to handle a relationship with Jack and his career in that she knew, firsthand, what he sometimes had to face. Maybe, as I make my way along the later seasons and future relationships, I might change my mind, but for now, I remain a JackKate fan.
Set between seasons 2 & 3, this standalone story is a little look inside the Jack Kate relationship as I envision it to be. Rated M although nothing too explicit. The story goes between a present (a little more than a year after season 2) and a time in the past and hopefully it is clear what belongs in the past versus the present, but I did place the past sections in italics.
The characters and story do not belong to me. I am just borrowing them for a while. No harm is intended with this work of fiction. Please don't sue. If you could provide some feedback, that would be greatly appreciated. Scarlet.
Coming Back to Her
She woke from her light sleep when the mattress shifted beneath her as he climbed into the bed. She had spoken to Michelle earlier that night and had already known that he had made it back to CTU safely from his mission. She had known it might be hours before he returned home and after the first couple of times, had learned not to wait up for his return.
She felt the blankets move and then the warmth of his body replaced the cold air he had allowed in, his presence felt keenly although she knew that inches still lay between them. Minutes passed and she waited, knowing now what was coming next. Knowing what he needed. She thought back to the first time, not his first mission since they had become a couple, but the first time it had happened after a mission. The first time he had given in.
The mattress shifted as he rolled to his side and she felt the soft cotton of his t-shirt against her back as his hand grabbed her hip to pull her closer. She knew he must have been injured, the presence of the shirt testament to his sad attempt to hide the injury from her knowledge, at least for a little while longer. Little did he know how well she had come to know him.
That first time she hadn't known. She hadn't slept and had instead waited up until he had come home. When he had tried to climb into bed with a shirt on even though all the prior nights they had spent together he had slept in just his boxers, she had questioned him about it. He had refused to answer her. Continued to stonewall her as he had since the moment he had walked through her door. They hadn't been living together back then so he needn't have come to her that night or so she thought. She had said as much to him when he wouldn't answer any of her questions and instead had responded with simple yesses or no's or non-committal grunts when neither of those options seemed appropriate.
By the time he had climbed into her bed with his shirt on, she had been so frustrated that she had yelled at him, asking why he had even bothered to come and see her. Why when he could have just called her to tell her that he was alright and that he would see her tomorrow.
"That's enough, Kate! I don't want to talk about it!"
He wouldn't look at her, even when he had been yelling at her. She had reached out her hand then, a slight caress of her fingertips across his reddened temple and along the shell of his ear. He had grabbed her hand and pulled it away from him and her frustration had bubbled over. She pulled at the white t-shirt with her free hand, it's very presence had suddenly become the source of her frustration, and she had tried to lift it up and off of him. That was when she had seen the bandages binding his ribs, the evidence of the injury he had been hiding from her.
"Oh, Jack, you're hurt. What happened?"
As if the discovery of his injury had relaxed him, he had released her hand and she had pulled the shirt off, giving full evidence to the bruises and abrasions that covered his body. He had never told her what had caused the injuries, what exactly had happened to him. He hadn't spoken but he had finally allowed his eyes to meet her questioning ones. He had finally unmasked a bit of the pain he had hidden and she remembered how overwhelmed she had felt with her love for him. She had gently run her fingertips over the marks, had caressed his shoulder, his chest, his abdomen.
Something in her soft touches had incited him then. He had pulled her to him, had crushed her against him with surprising strength given the condition of his body. His lips had met hers and he had devoured her, his tongue quickly thrusting and tangling with her own. The tank top she had been wearing had seemingly disappeared of its own accord and then he had feasted on her breasts, her neck, her collarbone. He had sucked and bit and licked all while he had pressed her firmly against him.
The hand on her hip slipped up under her tank top, caressing her abdomen before making its way to her breast. He squeezed tightly, bordering on painfully, but by now her body responded, knowing well the dance that was to come next. Her nipple pebbled, tingling, waiting and then his fingers answered its call, pinching and pulling while his lips found her earlobe and nipped and tugged drawing warmth to the juncture of her thighs. She turned in his arms, giving him full access, permission granted this night as it had been every other night. He pulled the tank top down, freeing her breasts so he could taste them and she freed her arms from the fabric as he did, running her fingers through his hair as he worshipped at her chest.
She left his shirt alone this time. She didn't want to see what he hid from her. At least not now, not this time.
One hand cupped her breast, angling it to his mouth for better access as he sucked and bit and pulled in a titillating mash up of pleasure and pain. His other hand stroked a path along her ribs and waist until it slid beneath the fabric of her panties, his fingers slipping beneath her folds, checking to be sure that she was ready for him.
He always checked and she always was.
Then he was inside her, suddenly and forcefully, his lips possessing her mouth again. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper with each thrust, possessing him as much as he was possessing her. As his pace quickened, he broke their kiss, unable to maintain the rhythm and the embrace. Her arms held on to his shoulders, while her mouth traced kisses along his neck and she fervently wished she had made him take off his shirt so she feel his skin against her, could taste him all over and not just this little piece of him.
Still the heat built within her, his driving thrusts a wonderful friction and she gave herself to it, knowing he needed her to get there with him and knowing that he was waiting for her. His head dropped to the space between her shoulder and neck, his breath ragged in her ear and for a moment, she worried about the injuries she couldn't see. But then he was sucking on the spot behind her ear and his hand was tangled in her hair, pulling it ever so slightly as he thrust more fiercely. She angled her hips as she met each thrust and felt the pleasure building and building until finally it exploded within her. She shuddered as the waves rolled through her and he answered with a groan that was almost painful, his rhythm more frantic until he gave over to his orgasm and then collapsed on top of her.
The sex that first time had been the first time that she wouldn't have considered it love-making between them. He had been desperate, consumed with consuming her, possessing her but also almost seeming to want to lose himself inside her. Despite the furor of it all, she had still come, he had made sure that she had and afterwards, they had both lain breathless. His forehead had rested on the pillow next to hers, his body a reassuring comfortable weight that had pushed her into the mattress while his ragged breath sounded in tandem to her own breathing.
With a pained grunt, he had rolled himself off her until he had been lying on his back next to her, but once again leaving inches between them. The silence had stretched between them and eventually, much later than when her own had calmed, his breaths had slowed to a more natural pace.
"Kate, I'm sorry."
He had rolled onto his side to face her just before he had spoken and she had wondered what all the movement meant for his injured ribs. His arm had wrapped around her waist and he had tipped his head forward and pressed a kiss against her shoulder.
She hadn't known what to say in that moment. She hadn't known what she had felt just before that moment. But right then, as his arm had pulled her against the warmth of his chest, as his lips had pressed soft kisses against her cooling skin, as his fingers had gently caressed the curve of her hip; in that moment, she had felt loved. She had turned and rested her cheek against his chest, his arms had moved until they had circled her back and held her to him, breaking contact just long enough to pull a blanket up to cover them. And then they had slept, deeply, peacefully without any nightmares to disturb them, never once having moved away from each other despite the completeness of their contact.
The next morning, when they had woken, he had made love to her so tenderly that she had nearly wept. He had brushed his lips against every mark he had left on her body, stared into her eyes as he had brought her to her peak and again when he had gained his own.
He eased up slightly and then shifted until he lay next to her. She tugged her tank top back up over her breasts and slipped her arms through the straps before rolling to her side to look at his profile. She gently placed her arm across his chest.
"Is this okay?" she asked, still unsure of what injuries he hid from her.
His lips moved slightly, a hint of movement really, and for some reason she felt that the movement seemed to hint at a smile. "Yeah," he said simply, but shifted his arm that had been initially pressed between them when she had rolled onto her side. He grimaced slightly as he pulled it up and wrapped it around her, pulling her closer until she finally dropped her eyes and pillowed her head against his chest. He pressed a kiss on the top of her head and his fingers stroked her arm slowly. Eventually, his fingers stopped and his breathing slowed further and she lay quietly, listening to the sound of his heart beating while he slept. Her thoughts traced back to the time when she first realized what this night of sex meant to him, to them.
It had been the third time that it had happened when she first realized. Actually, it had been after the second time, but she didn't tell him until after the third time.
"Kate, I'm sorry."
"Jack, don't apologize. If you apologize then it means you didn't mean it. That you didn't mean to use me. That you didn't want it to happen."
"What? Kate, no. That's what you think? That I'm using you? That's how you feel?" His voice broke at the end. He sat up and turned away from her.
"Jack, it's okay," she had said and shifted until she had sat up and leaned against the headboard. The sheet had come with her and she had gripped it to secure it across her chest. "I want you to use me. I know that it helps you come back. It helps you connect and return to this life. I understand that you need it."
He had looked over to her, his confusion had been clear in his eyes and in that moment, she had realized that he hadn't fully understood the motivation behind his own actions. He hadn't understood but she could see that he did finally recognize the truth as she had said it. He hadn't disputed her statement.
"I understand, Jack," she had repeated. "I spent only one day living the life that you have to live and afterward, it was so difficult. I was so frustrated and I couldn't really understand why. I was upset and angry and couldn't seem to stand to be around people, not even my father. After everything I had seen and done, it was difficult not to snap at people. I mean, after everything that happened, how could I even give any energy or thought to mundane questions like what we should do with the wedding decorations and who to invite to the next Warner charity dinner? It took a long time to get back to my life after that day."
She had reached out and rested her hand against his back as she silently asked him to turn back to her. He had continued to sit and face the other way, his arms on his knees, his head hung low.
"Jack, I think that I know better than Teri ever could have what your work does to you. I know how hard it is for you to put it behind you and return to the day-to-day. And, I've seen how long it can take for you to find that reality and reconnect. I've been through it myself and I've been on the other side with you."
He had turned finally and shifted on the bed until he had been facing her. He had looked up cautiously, almost as if he had been afraid of what he might find when he had met her eyes. She had seen the surprise and relief when he had realized that there had been no anger or accusation in her answering gaze.
"If this," she had waved at the bed and the two of them, "If doing this, helps you reconnect more quickly then I am happy to have you use me for that. And, in my opinion, it does help. Jack, I want you to use me so you can come back to me. But don't say you're sorry for doing it. Then it means that you didn't want to do it. That you didn't mean to do it. That you don't want to come back. Use me but mean it and then come back to me."
He had held her gaze the entire time and she had watched as the relief and warmth replaced the initial look of surprise and guilt. He had leaned forward and had tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his finger lingering on the line of her jaw.
"I love you," he had said and then had leaned forward and kissed her softly.
It had been the first time he had said those words to her. Now, more than a year later, the sentiment passed between them freely and often. She wasn't sure if it had been her acceptance of him or her understanding of what he needed that had made him realize in that moment that he loved her. Maybe it had been that he had just realized that she loved him. Maybe it had been that he had just realized how much she loved him because for her own part, she was fairly certain that she had loved him since that first awful day.
Eventually, the gentle movement of his chest lulled her to sleep and she slept peacefully in his arms, knowing when they woke, they would be connected once again.
Fin.
Thank you for reading. If you could drop a note as well, that would be wonderful! SS
