LITTLE 18
By AliLamba
Rated: NC-17
Notes: Um. Head's up. This chapter's weird? I don't know I'm weird and weird things get me going. LOL OKAY SO NOT FUNNY AND TMI, Ali. I meant writing-wise! lol no I didn't. ;-D Enjoy!
Jack continued to thumb the side of his coffee cup, then checked his watch for the twenty-eighth time.
She was late.
He wasn't expecting her to show, anyway.
The paperwork was almost finalized, expected to be sent in the next week or so. They weren't demanding much of each other. Neither had wanted the apartment, and neither wanted much of their combined assets. Their divorce had been surprisingly simple – as if they'd had nothing of worth in their marriage anyway.
"Come with me."
There was the slightest of hesitation in Kate's affections. Her lips paused on their way to his collar bone, that barest of stutters as what he said sunk in.
Had she been meaning to do this all along? Is that why she went to him?
No. She went to him because she knew she couldn't avoid him any longer. She knew that eventually their paths would collide again, and no amount of precautions Kate could make would prevent it. That night, with Sawyer, with Sawyer shoving her out of the way and with the counter right behind her head…
Kate winced in memory, though no pain remained. Her fingers instinctually reached up to curl in her hair, inches from the cut Jack had sewn.
Kate opened her eyes, all the way. No. No – she hadn't meant to sleep with Jack tonight. She hadn't meant for any of this to happen. She was trying to be good!
Part of her emotions tapped into the misery of her guilt. Every inch of her skin felt dirty. Disgust started bleeding and writhing within her, and she pulled away the barest amount that would part them.
"Jack—" she whispered, needing to explain. "Jack, we can't—"
He tried to kiss her again. His lips found hers and tried to make her follow him, but Kate was resisting; she wasn't kissing back. He tried again, and again she wouldn't let him sweep her under.
"Kate," he blurted, when he'd finally given up and was resting their foreheads together. Anguish lay barely dormant in his voice, pure desperation.
In a fit of clarity he tried to make her see. "I need you, Kate."
She sucked in a rattling breath. What he said was an echo of her heart's desire, and she recognized it even though her conscience had blocked the emotion. She needed him, too.
Staring into his face, feeling the tears sting the corners of her eyes, and as every part of her face was already seared raw with the extinguished effort of crying, Kate tried to be brave.
"I have to go," she announced, and the shock and pain that split Jack's face was enough to break her heart.
She stood up to leave. She grabbed her jeans and her t-shirt and walked to the far side of the room to put them back on.
She couldn't stop him from starting at her. His eyes were round and full of her as he blindly stood and buckled his pants.
"You…you can't go," he finally said. The man was drowning on dry land. Her heart constricted.
Kate hid her face, tilting her head down so that her hair shielded her expression. "Jack, I have to." What she meant was bubbling up her throat, was clogging her airways. She needed to say it, needed him to know, but knew it only left her vulnerable—"You don't deserve me."
Self-loathing propelled her from the room before she would let Jack try to stop her flight.
A bell chimed. He absently thought how silly it was, that bells only seem to exist these days to alert for patrons in coffee shops. Jack craned his neck towards the sound.
And he couldn't help it. He smiled.
He saw her weaving her way inside, through the mass of people, before pausing briefly and looking around.
Her big eyes found him. Jack barely knew how long it took her to settle in the seat opposite him.
Though he knew his mouth was working, it was still hard to voice the words around his smile.
"You came."
He didn't have her number.
He couldn't believe he didn't have her number.
Breaks at work were now spent poring over the phone book or on the internet, going down the long list of Austens and Fords featured in the greater Los Angeles area. After a failed surgery one afternoon, and a failed attempt to reach Kate immediately after, Jack ran his pen so furiously into the yellow stack of pages that he tore half the book apart.
Jack leaned back roughly in his chair, and it threw him backwards an extra few inches he hadn't intended. His hand roughly grabbed the lower half of his face, his finger tips rubbing his lips and the stubble on his cheek and jaw.
Because he knew someone who had her address.
Juliet went over there for dinner once, a meal Jack had missed because of a surgery that had run over. It had been before he'd really met her, when he'd only known Kate as a vague name of a wife to a person in the room.
It was obvious what was stopping him. He felt the overwhelming humiliation every time he reached for the phone, bleeding and twisting and tangling with the shame, feeling the crushing weight literally sagging his body towards the ground.
It was tearing him apart.
Jack's face suddenly came apart, his mouth opening as his eyes screwed up and he started to cry in the insurmountable frustration. He just…needed…to see her. He needed more of an explanation – no – he needed to change Kate's mind. Though he would never come to this conclusion himself, his life would always depend on her.
"You came."
She wasn't smiling, her face a careful mask of indifference. She was wearing a plain, camel-colored coat, freshly pressed or perhaps newly owned. And suddenly he remembered his ex-wife as the slightly frazzled, haphazard dresser, whose sister bought her all the right clothes but who barely thought to put them together. Juliet took the seat opposite him.
Her big eyes were trained on him, drinking in every expression that flitted across Jack's features. He knew that he was having trouble maintaining his composure, as their unimpressive conversation was surely rattling towards the conclusion that frightened him and filled his heart with hope.
Would it help her to know the why? Or would it hurt her to know how deeply his desperation ran? His heart stopped. Did she know why he'd asked her here? Was she already destroyed?
"Juliet—" he tried to start, but was immediately crushed by the realization that it had been so long since he'd said her name out loud. The familiarity of the syllables triggered something awful inside him.
"Juliet I asked you here, today, because I need a favor." His eyes were clouded with tears. His voice was choked and useless. The bright blue paper cup felt weak and insubstantial in his hands.
"It's…it's Kate."
The reaction was instant and subtle. Juliet gasped quietly and looked into her lap, closing her eyes before her brows could quickly crease. He kept watching her in some sadistic way. She shook her head, just one shake, and looked up at him. Her mask had broken, and now she looked so sad.
"What?" she whispered, breathless.
"Her—her address. I, I need it Juliet."
This all sounded so wrong to his ears. Juliet's expression was pulling into confusion, to bewilderment, her brain working out the pieces. It clicked. Oh…
"Oh," she whispered, for all intents broken. "Oh," she whispered again, and looked out the window.
"Jack how could you ask me for that," she finished, after a strained and awkward silence, where the rumbles and conversations of the people around them filled the gap between them and became suddenly more pronounced.
"If you had any idea—" Jack tried to say, but his voice broke in the middle and he had to regain his composure. "Juliet. You have no idea how much it hurts to have to ask you this. But I do." It was no surprise his voice was now pleading. "Juliet I need it."
"Why couldn't you need me?" she suddenly hurled, the scratchiness of the sounds betraying her deeper anguish. She had let more slip than she'd meant to, had revealed more of the emotions she'd been trying to hide.
Jack was suddenly aware that this was completely the wrong setting to have this conversation. "I'm sorry I brought you here," was all he could think to say. And then he knew he needed to apologize for more.
"I'm so, so sorry Juliet."
It should have made everything better. It should have calmed her, made things hurt less. But tears were rushing to Juliet's eyes and she was trying to cover her twisted mouth with her hand. And then suddenly she was rushing away from him, she was fleeing the café, and he knew he'd never get what he'd asked for.
It was late.
Jack was sitting in his office chair, not knowing how long he'd been sitting there. Not known how long it had been since he'd slept. The lights were off in his office besides the little lamp on his desk, his legs were spread wide with lack of effort. He was cradling his eyes and forehead in one of his hands, trying to block out the world, trying to change the images flashing through his mind's eye.
His life was turning into a slow, slow torture.
Kate.
Was all he could think about. He was thinking about her now. In his mind he saw his own hands in front of her body, could see the contrast of his skin against hers. While she was milk he was sand, and he both dreaded and needed to mix the two.
Touching her should be like fire to ice, but it was like dipping his hands into warm water. He was afraid his palms would be clammy but they weren't, and his digits slid over her curves like silk on silk. Her torso twisted and turned beneath his touch, and she arched towards him, inviting his mouth to touch her as well. He complied gratefully, his dry lips softly sucking on little patches with perfect tastes. He didn't realize he was moving down her body instead of up, until he reached her navel. It inspired him to dip lower, to continue until his nose and lips were getting caught in the tight, curly hairs he loved.
Her whole body gave a tiny spasm, a twitch to betray that she knew what was coming, to let him know she was gloriously anticipating it.
His tongue slipped inside her folds, her hips held easily by his hands and arms. She gave another spasm, and his tongue tasted sweetness.
He let out a groan, a wonderful groan, for this taste was wonderfully surreal. He probed her deeper, looking for more of that taste, his tongue working around her clit as he placed little kisses against her bare sex. His mouth was almost full of her now, and God how he wished he could identify the taste. It was just pure…sex. This taste was having sex with Kate.
Suddenly she was gone. Kate's chest was heaving, and she had ripped herself away from him, one hand covering her sex from him and the other hanging limp and useless to her side. Through her fingers he could see the flow of liquid he loved, and he tried to crawl closer to her again, tried to slip his tongue past her fingers to get more of her taste, wondering if she was self-conscious and he was assuring her, or if he had been doing it wrong or not enough—
"Jack…" she whispered, and he could hear the laughing in her voice. He looked up at her smile, and changed directions, instead crawling up her body and wiping his face with his hand. She kissed him willingly, almost spent, inclined to indulge whatever Jack wanted to do next. He felt his erection against her skin, so he angled himself to take her. She moaned when she felt his intention, and he felt her beating heart beat faster, and it made his cock twitch in his hand. He slid inside her as her thighs parted, locking instead around his waist so that her heels could slide up and down his spine—
The computer sounded with an unhealthy chime.
Jack was thrust back into his office, the shelves filled with books, the degrees framed on the wall, and the cabinets full of supplies. He was breathing hard, his eyes bleary with delirium, and he was almost surprised to see his erection in his hand. The memory of his and Kate's second coupling – in that bedroom – so long ago – was still scattered through his consciousness.
Argh! he didn't realize he voiced aloud, slamming a fist onto the arm of his chair in pure anger.
What was wrong with him? He gripped the sides of his head and tried to rip at the small strands f his hair. Furious with himself he stuffed his cock back in his pants and used his free hand to check the computer. It was uncomfortable and his pants felt tight, but he deserved the pain, however mild it was. He deserved everything.
It was an email.
From Juliet.
He now knew where she lived.
Jack had been avoiding the clock on his dashboard for the better part of 20 miles, but now as he rounded the suburban corner the glowing blue numbers caught his eye. It was just past one in the morning.
This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy, he kept whispering to himself, as his subconscious begged him to turn around, come back later, come back anytime later. He was such a fool. Such a glorious fool.
Jack pulled to a stop in front of her address. The street was dark except for the moon above, as everyone was asleep. The windows in Kate's house were on.
Now what, the thought finally occurred to him, and he ran a shaking hand through his hair. If he thought about this too much he would leave within the minute, so instead he threw open his door and stood from the car. He buttoned his blazer over his abdomen for something to do with his hands, and then walked toward Kate's house. Making a quick decision, Jack walked toward the illuminated window instead of the front door. It wasn't difficult to peer in.
Kate was in the kitchen, wearing a button-down shirt and underwear. She was doing dishes by hand, slowly sponging and rinsing each plate as if lost in thought, or trying to prolong the exercise. There was a bruise as big as a frying pan on her exposed upper thigh.
And suddenly she looked up and saw him. He barely had time to see her gasp.
Even Jack could hear the crash of the plate as it shattered.
This was a mistake.
Kate was jogging on tiptoe towards the door, and Jack anticipated seeing her by smoothing his jacket down his chest. She was suddenly in front of him, eyes wide.
"Jack, what're you doing here?"
He took a stop closer to her, onto the porch. Kate stood in front of the open front door. She wrapped her arms around herself and Jack knew the night was cold.
"Kate I had to see you. We need to talk."
She was shaking her head, not with dismissal, but with fear. "No, Jack. Not here. Not now. What were you thinking?"
I wasn't, is all his mind could come up with. Jack wisely didn't voice his thoughts out loud.
"Please, Kate," he begged, taking a step closer. Her eyes lit up with sadness and deep-seeded longing.
"He's here, Jack…" she whispered, and suddenly, he was. Sawyer was in the doorway, clad only in boxers, sleepy confusion turning to anger.
"Fuckin' A, Jack, you just can't leave my wife alone!"
"Sawyer, I'm here to see Kate. I really need to talk to her."
Sawyer took a territorial step between them, his bare chest inches from Jack's. Jack's jaw clenched, nerves spiked through his body, but he didn't back down.
Jack looked past Sawyer's shoulder and saw Kate shrinking.
"Kate," he pleaded, "please, just come with me. Just come with me for little while."
Sawyer's shove shouldn't have come as such a surprise. Jack caught his weight on his second step backward, his arms out to his sides.
"That's enough!" Sawyer bellowed, and before Jack had the time to recuperate, Sawyer's weight was crushing through his abdomen, sending him to the ground. Jack responded on instinct, and suddenly all his fury and frustration swept through him. Sawyer was trying to pin him to the ground, but Jack had a free arm to throw a well-aimed punch at his jaw. There was a crack as Sawyer's head whipped around, and then the blonde's muted scream of rage, before they were tumbling toward the street, arms rippling, elbows and knees seeking purchase.
Jack felt tiny arms scrambling at his neck, and he threw them off.
He heard her tiny "Ah!"
And Jack turned to stone. He tried to pry Sawyer off of him, but the man just wouldn't quit. Jack had the upper hand, and he piled all his weight into his fist, and sent two hits at Sawyer's gut in quick succession. The man groaned and went limp. Curling around himself, Sawyer moaned on the lawn.
"Kate," Jack pleaded again, feeling like a man close to death as he crawled to a standing position and took three shaky steps toward her. Kate almost screamed and threw her hands up to shield herself. From him.
"Jack, don't!"
He didn't know what to do. He sunk onto the ground in front of her. A dog barked from somewhere on the block. A light turned on in the neighbor's house.
"Jack, just – just go. Just leave me alone!" He shook his head, fighting back the agony. This was such a huge mistake.
And he saw it all from her perspective: he was the interloper, interfering with and ruining her life. She was trying to piece it together and he kept tearing it apart. This wasn't just about him, and she was trying – she'd been trying so hard – to make her decision known to him. And he just wouldn't listen.
While his heart was breaking, Jack lumbered to his feet.
"I'll help you get him inside."
By the time Jack was getting into his car, there were a few lights on down the once-sleepy road, and a few people standing on porches to figure out what all the fuss was about.
He sat at the wheel for a long minute, staring at Kate's face. She stood at her window, looking sadly at him through the glass, and he couldn't find the strength to leave. He couldn't say goodbye.
She lifted her hand, and placed her palm against the window. And that was Jack's undoing.
Notes: Yes okay just one more chapter. I couldn't in good faith publish an 9000+ word chapter so I'll break it in to two...even though I've done it before and I'll do it again. You get one week, my pretties, before the bitter end!
