Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.

'They asleep?' Rory looked up from the couch where she'd settled with a book and a blanket over her feet.

'Josh pretends not to want to sleep but he's been rubbing his eyes like crazy. Aiden is almost asleep the moment he smells the pillow. I left them to play camp in the bedroom. They're reading tales over a torch in your old tent while Cerberus keeps guard outside. Aiden is probably already asleep and I think Josh will follow suite soon enough. How was your day?'

Jess sat down next to her and stretched his feet forward, throwing an arm behind her shoulders at the back of the couch. Rory smiled.

'Took the boys to the park after work, made soap bubbles on the way home.'

Jess' brows rose in surprise.

'Didn't you freeze? It must be what - forty degrees outside?'

'Freeze we did. But it was fun. It started snowing just as we neared the apartment.'

Rory rested her head over his shoulder, closing her eyes.

'What about you? Did you save lives today, Dr Mariano?'

'Ah, the longest twenty-four in my life. I think there's epidemic appendicitis, can't remember doing so many appendectomies in one week.'

'Poor baby.'

He mock pouted.

'Any news from Paris?'

Jess' face turned serious.

'Last time I checked, they were waiting for him to wake up after the anesthesia. The team did their best to get reperfusion.'

'What about her? How is Paris doing?'

Jess let out a quiet sigh.

'Why don't you call her? She'll be glad to hear from you. In her own brutally honest neurotic way.'

Rory's shoulders sagged.

'I don't know... I feel like she's circling me out sometimes. Like I'm this god-blessed, carefree child who's been living in her happy bubble all my life and can't possibly understand the turmoil of real-life grown-ass problems.'

Jess gave her a look, silently regarding her.

'Okay, you need to talk to Paris.'

Rory let out a frustrated groan.

'And say what? That I can relate to her deep shuddering pain? Because this conversation is gonna end so well.'

'I guess it's a no then?'

Rory bumped her forehead against his shoulder, letting out a huff. He rubbed his palm up and down her arm, drawing her closer to put a kiss on top of her head.

'Don't beat yourself up, after all she has Tristan there. I mean, it's not like she has to face this whole situation completely alone, right? Because once he wakes up from the anesthesia, he's surely gonna be of great supp-'

'Okay, mindfucker,' she rolled her eyes. 'Gimme the phone.'

'Why? Are you gonna call your best friend? What made you change your mind?'

Rory threw him a death glare.

'I hate you.'

'Ah, but you love me.'

'True, yet I'm gonna make your life miserable when I get the chance.'

'Can't wait.'

'It's gonna be so good when you're the one squirming.'

'And I'm gonna take whatever you give, gladly.'

She granted him another withering stare that he met with a smile, making himself comfortable in the now empty couch. Even if she pretended to give him a hard time, he knew she was bluffing. He let a satisfied smirk creep up his lips as he heard Rory's voice from the kitchen, calling Paris.

'Happy to see me, Paris?'

'Inwardly singing psalms, throwing confetti.'

He gave her a wink from the bed. She stepped closer and took the nearby chair.

'I see you've missed me,' he tried to joke, addressing her furrowed eyebrows. She was inspecting the outline of his legs, as if she could X-ray them from their place under the bed covers.

She moved her mouth to the side and her frown deepened.

'Do you feel your leg?'

'You mean the aching pile of bone and muscle threatening to disintegrate any minute now? Yep. All nerve endings screaming in agony.'

She blew out a breath, trying not to let the relief show and probably failing miserably.

'The pain is doing amazing things for my adrenaline levels, don't get me wrong, but I asked the nurse for some painkillers.'

Tristan tried to go for what was supposed to be a lopsided grin but the corners of his mouth quivered with the effort not to cringe as another jolt of pain visibly crossed his body.

'Have you by any chance asked the neurosurgeon to displace some nerve endings so that you make me suffer my well deserved share of universal punishment for being too sexy for my own good?'

Paris pretended to slap her forehead in surprise.

'Jeez, how did I not think of that earlier?'

Tristan let out a smile, this one short but more genuine.

Paris started to get up. His hand caught hers. Paris looked down at their joined hands and then towards him. His fingers closed tighter around her wrist for a moment.

'I saw the report.'

She hadn't heard his voice so deep and hoarse.

He had seen the report. The one with his X-rays there. Tristan was a trauma surgeon, he was perfectly aware of the extension of the trauma he had suffered during the accident. He knew the risks related to his surgery. He knew that if his foot healed it would be because of her and her stubbornness. He also knew that if he had gone septic and died it would be because of her stubbornness. Because great determination came with great risks. The stakes had been so high and Tristan Dugray had never been a gambler. Was he gonna choose the same if he had been awake at the time decisions were made? Paris was starting to have doubts.

She felt a gentle squeeze around her wrist. Tristan's fingers were long and warm around her hand, prompting her to look at him.

His eyes were vivid, the blue of a summer storm - warm and intense.

She let out another breath. She had been holding a lot of these.

His look was open and unusually tender. He was grateful. A little short of words. And reaching towards something he was vaguely aware of yet didn't completely understand, pleading for her to meet him halfway. And somehow it all transpired.

And the kindness of his look was unbearable.

Guys like Tristan Dugray weren't supposed to have such intense kindness in them. They were supposed to be two-dimensional and superficial, showing interest in everyday prosaic stuff. Like what's for dinner. Does the car accelerator sound differently today? Is that nurse from pediatrics sporting as big of a crush on me as I'm suspecting she is? How can I make my boss promote me/give me free tickets for the football season/let me drive his new car/insert random stuff guys finds entertaining here. Two-dimensional. Because men like Tristan Dugray were supposed to fit the stereotype. The man holding onto Paris' wrist had layers under the macho exterior and the deeper she got, the more irate she felt. It was getting progressively confusing. In the last couple of months Tristan Dugray had witnessed more Paris breakdown than any of her friends had. He had played some unlikely kind of rock for her and this very fact was confusing and disturbing in itself. She tugged on her hand, slipping her wrist away without resistance because he let it free at the notion, feeling the spell break. Maybe they would reach a point where they were gonna have this conversation. Maybe some day. But it wasn't gonna be today.

'I just can't wait to hear I'm not one night stand material,' she whispered in his ear before she stood up and left the room, passing by Dr Henderson on her way out.

'She's something fierce,' Dr Henderson said as he neared Tristan's bed, looking in the direction where Paris just left.

'That she is,' Tristan said, observing the other man closely. Matt Henderson wasn't a guy who got intimidated by a woman's brains and overwhelming personality. He looked intrigued. Like an art collector who had just stumbled upon a rare piece of work. He was a connoisseur.

And when Matt Henderson looked back at Tristan Dugray, there was a matching feeling of admiration for a woman who would move Heaven and Earth for the ones closest to her. Paris Geller was electric and could never go unnoticed.

'I think I'd like to get drugged now,' Tristan sighed. 'Can you arrange it?'

'Hey, how are you? I got a little worried when I got your call, is everything allright?'

Paris looked up from her place in the booth of the cafe where she had asked to meet Rory and let out a huff.

'I hate how people see me.'

Rory narrowed her eyes, inspecting her friend more closely and took the seat opposite her.

'O-kay.'

'Because when people see me, they see responsibility. They see a mother, a doctor, a friend. They see all the things they want to have done for them. And the burden of being seen like this is just...' Paris made a fist with her hand and thumped it against the table. 'It's anchoring me to the ground so hard, sometimes I just need to... reel. He lets me reel.'

Rory gave Paris a slow nod. Okay, so they were having this conversation. She made herself comfortable in the booth, took her scarf and coat off and let her thoughts attune.

'He doesn't judge,' Rory said with understanding.

'He doesn't.'

'With parenthood your life got more... real?' Rory put it like a question and Paris gave her a nod.

'It's hard to pretend you're anything but yourself, you need people who accept who you are without asking questions,' Rory continued, looking at Paris so she could correct her if she got it all wrong. She hadn't.

Paris bit on her lip and gave Rory a nod.

'Maybe it's good that you found someone who doesn't make you hold your breath all the time,' Rory gave an encouraging smile.

'Thank you for understanding.'

'Thank you for letting me in. And just for the record, you're allowed to screw up.'

Paris opened her mouth to say thank you again but choked on an exhale.

The waitress came and Rory ordered for both of them, sparing Paris the need to talk, making it easier to keep her voice in check.

'He could've lost his leg,' Paris said quietly as the waitress left their table to place their order. 'Or gone septic. He could've died on me.'

Rory sought Paris' eyes.

'You did good.'

''Yeah. Because he survived. We wouldn't be leading this conversation if he hadn't done well through the surgery.'

'Paris, you did good even when it wasn't clear he would make it through. You can't control everything, some things are simply beyond you. You did your best, that's all you could've done and you did it.'

Paris was staring blankly ahead, Rory's words hardly registering in her head.

'It's okay, Paris. You did good.'

'What am I doing?' Paris deflated, resting her head in her palms, both elbows over the table. 'I almost killed him so I could save him. What am I doing?'

'I think you're falling for Tristan Dugray.'

Paris looked up, surprised. Rory shrugged.

'We were in the park and you were looking at Josh with this look of intense care and pride that makes your eyes shine. They were wrestling with Aiden and Tristan in the grass. And at some point your look landed on Tristan. And the shine was still there.'

Paris could try to argue but didn't have the willpower to get into a pointless argument. But it was so confusing - he was the Jack from Hit The Road Jack. And she... she was Paris. She had the subtlety of a Francis Bacon painting, for God's sake.

Rory smiled, seeing the conflicting emotions over her friend's face.

'I won't pretend to understand the specifics of your relationship with Tristan Dugray but you've been more of your tough cookie self since he's been around. So,' Rory looked for a word, 'he's good influence, I guess.'

Paris had done her best not to think about the benefits part of her friendship with Dugray. The non-existent benefits of it. She had tried not to think about that, which naturally resulted in overthinking it completely.

'I don't think I can do the second hand lovers thing with him. I'm feeling stuck in a shameful waste of estrogen when it comes to ogling his cut body. Awfully cut. Appallingly cut. Yet... he makes it feel less like I'm failing.'

'Failing?' Rory frowned, confused. 'At... what?'

'I don't know. Life. Parenthood. Myself. The worst is when I fail at being myself. It's like I have this image of who I am supposed to be and what I'm supposed to achieve, and when I compare my actual life with this image it's all fail, fail, fail. It's frustrating.'

'I guess everybody does. But if you could see yourself from a distance, you would totally adore yourself.'

'Oh, I do. I adore myself all the time. I just have a hard time liking myself.'

'You're holding on so tight,' Rory said with a loving smile. 'You can let go, Paris. It'll still be okay of you allow yourself to let go.'

'I'm such a sap,' Paris muttered irately, resting her forehead against her palm. 'I'm starting to look like a pile of emotional goo, I'm practically you.'

'Smooth, Paris,' Rory shook her head with a laugh. 'Real smooth.'

'Like a criminal. Shit. I should've arranged to meet you in a liqueur store, I need booze to survive this kind of conversation.'

He was lying on the couch when she walked in after her meeting with Paris, kicking her shoes in the hall. She huffed a 'hey' and went into the kitchen to unload the bags of groceries she had brought on her way back. Josh and Aiden were at school and Paris was gonna take them today, so they were free for the night. When she walked back into the living room, Jess was still lying on the couch, one arm folded under his neck.

Rory stopped to give him a studying look.

'Hello there... dark brood.'

Jess' lips twitched but the smile didn't travel up his eyes. He was deep in thought. She knew to leave him be. When he felt ready, he'd talk.

She picked a book from the bookshelf and settled into the armchair at the foot of the couch. An hour may have passed with neither of them talking. At some point he had closed his eyes and she thought he'd fallen asleep.

'I had a patient today,' his voice came, a little raspy due to the lack of current use. He was looking at her from his spot on the couch.

Rory put her book down, a silent indication she was ready to listen.

'A man with punctured spleen. His wife stabbed him with the kitchen knife. He cheated on her with some colleague of his, kept the affair going for some time until she found out. He ended things. His wife split with him. That was about an year ago. A couple of months into the break-up they started talking again. She forgave him, they got back together. Everything seemed fine enough until last night when something snapped and she came at him with the kitchen knife. Guess she did hold a grudge after all.'

He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes troubled but intent.

'What I did to you... It's kind of unforgivable.'

'Jess, are you asking me if I'm gonna butcher you with our kitchen knife due to some deeply suppressed revenge issues?' she asked, amazed.

Now that she put the situation like that, what he was asking her did in fact sound kind of cringe-worthy.

'Maybe.'

He opened his mouth to apologize but then he caught a better look at her. She had sucked in her cheeks, looking up at the ceiling. He stood up from the couch and knelt next to her, tugging at her hand gently, lacing their fingers.

'Ror.'

She shook her head, more to herself than to him, as if she was debating an idea she wasn't fully on board with.

'Come on, Ror. Tell me.'

She bit on her lip, contemplating. She seemed shy, so he gave her an encouraging smile.

'You know you can tell me anything, right?'

She looked at their joined hands, at his thumb drafting small semicircles over her palm as Jess tried to suppress his restlessness. He wanted to coax her into sharing, not freak her out.

'Anything?'

'Anything.'

'Take your shirt off,' she said timidly.

'My...shirt?'

She nodded.

He frowned a little but stood up and pulled his tee off, crumpling it into a ball between his hands. She could see the vein on his neck jumping with increasing anxiety. She looked a little nervous too. He sat at the arm of the couch and rose a hand to cup her cheek, his eyes concerned and affectionate. He gave her an encouraging nod.

She took a deep breath and huffed it out in an attempt to brace herself.

'Your jeans too,' she said on an exhale, as if she would cave out if she didn't get it out right now.

A muscle in Jess' jaw tensed but he kept his mouth clamped shut and stood up stiffly, taking his jeans off. He stood in his socks and briefs, watching as she put her book to the side and rose from the armchair so that they were facing each other.

'I...'

She made a step closer so that their breaths collided on each exhale.

'I wanna spank you.'

They stood facing each other for a long moment before Rory burst into loud laughter.

'God, you should've seen your face... the look on it... priceless...I can't... I can't breathe... Your look... priceless...'

She continued laughing, loud and clear, snorting every now and then.

Jess watched her - at first completely flustered, and then after recovering from the initial shock - moving to sit down on the couch, rubbing his face with both palms.

'Jeez,' he shook his head, a dry chuckle making it out of his raspy throat.

So, payback was a bitch. She'd said she would get back at him for making fun of her, right?J

Jeez indeed.

Rory moved to stand between his knees and then sat straddling him, her chest still trembling with bouts of laughter.

She caught his face between her palms and tilted his head up so that he was facing her. Her thumbs were caressing his cheeks and her smile was so big it took up the better half of her face.

Jess' eyes shifted with emotion.

'You got me for a moment here,' he admitted.

'That's for ever doubting my power to forgive your stupid stunts,' she whispered, her eyes shining with reprimanding mischief as her thumbs kept on caressing his cheekbones with overwhelming tenderness.

'I love you, you psyched boy,' she said as she lowered herself to engage his mouth in an affectionate kiss.

How had he ever imagined he could live without this woman? He had been such a stupid schmuck. No one else compared to her. No one could. Ever.

'Siren,' he mumbled against her mouth.

'What?'

'You have the name of a siren,' he sighed against her throat. My siren. 'Wherever you go, I'll always end up following.'

TBC