LITTLE 18
(part four)
By: AliLamba
Rated:
Oh who am I kidding. You know what this is rated.
Notes: The end! The bitter end. That phrase is not really what I mean to imply. Kind of. Heck with it, we're off! Lots and lots of doing it ahead. Because I just can't help myself and you have been so incredibly patient. Happy Valentine's day…xoxo


He'd just killed someone.

No, someone had just died on his table. Semantics. There was an oversight – Goodwin hadn't run all the tests he could have, and the patient had died from a reaction to the anesthesia. Jack had let the nurse tell the family while he went tearing through the halls to his office, still in the scrubs he'd worn through surgery. They stunk of sweat and antiseptic and open bodies.

Jack threw himself into his chair and sunk his head into his hands. His fingers dug into his scalp near his hairline and he tried to pull on the cropped strands. These days his predominant feeling was anger – anger at everything. Anger at the world for handing him such a shit hand.

There was a message waiting for him. Jack lifted the phone to his ear and dialed in the numbers to retrieve it.

"Hey, it's…me."

Jack sat straight up in his chair. He had to close his eyes against the onslaught of sudden images, of sudden feelings. Why was she calling? Why now?

"I know this is probably going to come as a shock, but I think I owe it to you to explain…everything." There was a long pause and then a deep, shuddering breath. "Sawyer's out of town until tomorrow, so you should – I mean you could – come over tonight, if you…wanted." There was another pause, and he imagined her biting her lip, and picking nervously at the counter. "I'll be waiting."

The line went dead, and the phone went slack in Jack's hand.

This was not what he had in mind for his evening. He tried to figure out how long he'd been at the hospital, but he lost track some time around Tuesday. Jack glanced at the clock. It was just past seven in the evening, and there was nothing stopping him from going to see her.

Nothing except for the fact that he didn't want to deal with the pain. Just forget her, his subconscious whispered. You were moving on, Jack…just move on.

Again he tried to dig his fingers through his hair, trying to find the best decision. There wasn't one.


It was close to ten by the time he pulled up in front of her house. He'd worn a jacket over his dress shirt and slacks, but he left the jacket unbuttoned. The last time he'd worn one to her house, it had ended up torn at the seams. The old jacket hadn't even been worth taking to the tailor…it had just gone straight into the garbage, filling the space between the empty bottles of vodka that had piled up in the last week.

The lights in her house were on, and he strolled slowly to the door, deep in thought. There was no good reason to be here, and he kept flexing his hands in his pockets as he changed his mind over and over.

He could easily go, and he could just as easily not have come. But he wanted to see her – he wanted to fuck her… Jack stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, tilting his head ever so slightly back. That last part was true, as much as he didn't want to admit it. His heart felt like a bleeding machine, completely unrecognizable after its long, hard exercise. It was hard to say he hoped she wanted to be with him and wanted to tell him so tonight. A part of him anticipated rejection, and…a part of him hoped that she wanted to fuck him anyway.

If she does…could I do it? Could I be with her at all if Kate wants to stay with her husband? It wasn't something he wanted to think about, and he wasn't sure what his decision would be should she lay that option at his feet.

Jack sighed and started moving toward the door again. He spied her through the window before he knocked; she was curled in a tight ball on the couch, her head down. He looked away while he rang the bell. The door opened less than three seconds later.

Kate was still beautiful. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her face pale. Jack sucked in a breath when he noticed she'd lost weight.

"Jack," she breathed, sounding awed. She stepped aside to let him in, and Jack walked a few feet inside.

The house was mostly unfurnished, with the odd prop-like decoration sitting on the mantle or coffee table. The walls were all beige, and Jack was reminded of the way houses were staged when someone put them up for sale. He decided not to dwell on it.

"Come," Kate whispered, closing the door. "Sit." She gestured toward the sofa before leading the way, taking the same spot she'd vacated before he rang the bell.

Jack took a seat in an armchair. Both recognized that this was the farthest away he could have chosen to sit.

Kate was staring at his feet, biting her lip, and Jack could tell she was fighting back tears. There was a long, terse moment where neither of them said anything.

"Do you love him?"

Kate sunk her teeth harder onto her lower lip, and brought her fingers up to hide her mouth. With tears welled in her eyes, she shook her head. "I thought I did," she whispered, not unkindly.

Jack nodded, not feeling at all sentimental. He was merely processing facts. As far as he was concerned, this might as well be business. "Do you love me?"

A tear snaked its way over her cheek, and Kate looked up at the ceiling. "Fuck, Jack, it's only been…two months? Six weeks?" She shook her head, but it seemed more a frustrated motion rather than denying his words. "We barely know each other."

"You're right," he admitted. Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Then why am I here."

Kate stood abruptly. "I don't know, Jack!" she cried. "You know what, maybe you should go – maybe this was a mistake."

Jack stood as well. "Fine," he nodded, turning toward the door.

"No!" Kate wailed, and she collapsed back on the couch, sobbing.

There was an awful full minute where Jack listened to her cry, completely immobile. This is just so fucked up. Jack sighed, long and laboriously, as he took the seat next to her on the couch. He didn't touch her, instead leaning his forearms on his knees. On a primitive level, he understood. What would have happened if Juliet hadn't made everything easy for him? Because in a way, she had. By leaving, Juliet had made the decision for him. A part of him still felt attached to her, but it was in the sense that he still lived in their apartment, and still used the dishes they'd bought after their wedding. The memory of his wife and the life they'd had together was all over his daily living space, as detached as he was to all of it.

Kate's sobs began to ebb. He listened as they turned to hiccups, and then after a long while, calmed to deep, shaky breaths.

"I don't want to lose you, Jack."

Jack looked up at the wall opposite them, not willing to speak. His heart gave a painful squeeze.

"But I can't leave Sawyer. I don't…I don't know how."

Jack looked at her then. That intangible string he'd found the two months or the six weeks ago was still there, and just as strong as ever. He felt like she was tugging on it now. In all that time they'd spent maybe 36 whole hours in each other's presence, and it came down to this. Two confused, heartbroken people waiting for this to get easier.

"Kate, I don't know what you expect from me."

She inhaled a shuddering breath. "I don't know either," she whispered.

The confession made him relax, to a certain extent. As he stared into her eyes, looking for answers, it didn't go unnoticed by him that she licked her lower lip. And that, after a brief pause, he leaned forward, just a fraction of an inch, confused and unsure. Kate crossed the distance easily and touched her lips to his.

And suddenly, they were both lost.

Jack's eyebrows raised, afraid she would stop at any time or afraid that she wouldn't – he wasn't sure. Immediately Kate opened her mouth and deepened the kiss, sweeping their tongues together and invading him. Jack let himself get swept up in her, turning just enough to allow her closer. Then he was responding, and then he was putting his arms around her, and she was arching her back so that she was closer to him, and she was running her hands into his hair. Jack spread his hand across her lower back, pulling her toward him. He grabbed the fabric of her t-shirt. He released it to run his hand lower, over the curve of her ass. It felt so good under his hand, so fucking good…and so terribly, utterly wrong when the curve that turned him on was not his alone to touch. His body was responding to every move she made, and suddenly it terrified the living shit out of him. He couldn't do this.

Jack ripped himself away with a guttural sound, standing and pressing the balls of his hands to his eyes to stop the spilling images. He was remembering her naked beneath him, wanting him, begging him.

"I can't," he said simply. "I can't do this anymore." He was echoing one of her previous sentiments, and the irony was not lost on him.

"Kate I can't just have half of you…I can't share you with him."

She nodded, tearing up once again. "I never thought…" she started to say, but then stopped, unable to continue. She shook her head again as tears spilled over her cheeks.

Jack felt so exasperated. He felt so exhausted. Unceremoniously Jack folded himself in the armchair, observing her with an implacable gaze.

They stared at each other while Kate calmed her tears. She stared out of the window for a long while. Jack looked at the clock. It was almost eleven.

"I'm going to go take a shower." It sounded like she'd been trying to make the decision for some time, and Jack watched her stand and cross the room. She didn't turn to look at him, she just went. He heard the sudden spray of water from not too far away.

Jack leaned back on his chair, and tilted his head to stare at the ceiling. He didn't want to picture her naked and wet, but he did anyway.

He surely couldn't want her this badly. He couldn't want her so badly that he was willing to ruin another person's life, because surely nothing else could be possible in what they were doing to Sawyer. He was fantasizing about fucking another man's wife. The fact that he felt something so strongly emotional was momentarily immaterial. Jack dragged both hands through his hair, thoroughly frustrated. Frustrated because he knew he was going to stand and follow her to the bathroom, and frustrated because she wanted him to. He stood from the chair unwillingly.

Jack found himself staring at her, in this other man's shower. Glass walls surrounded Kate, steam billowing over the top and dissipating in the room beyond. She turned to look at him, partially twisting her body so that she could see him over her shoulder. He saw the water cascading through her hair, down her back, and over her ass. Her handsome skin was still marred by the bruise on her thigh, and there was something newer on her back, dark blue and as big as Jack's palm. He felt overcome with shame and helplessness and rage.

Kate was still looking at him, not moving. He felt so frustrated, and he already knew she would get her way.

She was watching as Jack slowly discarded his jacket, shirt, socks and shoes. He hesitated over his belt buckle. She was still staring at him, her mouth slightly open, the expression in her eyes a heady mixture of nerves and desire. He wanted her. All thoughts aside he wanted her, and she wanted him, and both were willing to give in to temptation.

Jack let go of the rest of his clothes and stepped to the glass door of the shower. He opened it and stepped inside, and with the door closed there were two feet between himself and Katherine Ford. She looked down, her eyelashes wet, and then took a perilous half-step forward. Jack let his eyes close as he felt her moving closer. Her hand touched his chest above his heart and headed up his body, until she was cradling the side of his face. Oh how he ached to give in to her touch. Had he not already? He'd given in the minute he stepped out of his car.

Her lips touched his lips – she must have been on tip toe – in the most fleeting of kisses. It was completely engrossing. He tilted his head to follow her as she pulled back, and then her body was leaning against his, and he felt every inch of her bare, flushed skin.

How many times had he dreamt of this skin? He couldn't stop to think. Kate deepened their kiss too easily, and too quickly his arms were around her, pressing her to him, squeezing every pound of flesh for validity.

She moaned into his mouth as he reached her ass again, and he flexed his hips into hers. She responded immediately, tilting her head back, moaning again. He didn't want to be gentle. Jack moved his hand to her front as he claimed Kate's lips again. His fingers reached over skin until he found the apex of her thighs, and he slid a long finger inside her. He groaned himself. She was so deliciously wet. Jack slid his finger in and out of her, rubbing the heel of his hand against her clit, eliciting another wet moan from her mouth as she amplified her assault of his mouth. She wrapped her arm around his neck and put weight on his shoulders, and Jack acknowledged she was ready for more.

Jack withdrew his hand and stilled her hips. He pushed them slightly away from himself, and Kate let go of his head as he nudged her whole body around. Kate brought her hands against the glass wall, pushing her ass back against his erection.

Jack stilled. Was this too much? Was it time to stop? His chest was heaving from the build-up, and he observed her with a hooded gaze. Scalding water was pounding against his back. For the first time he was going to have sex with Kate, not in the crazed heat of the moment, but because he wanted to. She belonged to Sawyer, but he was going to fuck her anyway. Jack dragged a hand down her spine, then grabbed her hips again on either side. His fingers flexed over her flesh. She was real in his presence.

Kate lifted her ass above his erection, moving so the length of him would slide against her most intimately. She stroked against him, once…then again, and Jack's fingers were digging into her skin, his teeth clenched with need. Need for what she was so freely giving.

He felt her fingers surround his length and guide him to the opening of her sex. He felt her hot and wet, and with eyes closed he sunk into her, grateful and unthinking. She seemed to unravel around him – shoulders slacking, back bowing, as a shuddering breath left her lips. He leaned forward, pressing her against the glass wall, and relished the way she hissed through her teeth at the coolness of the glass. He began to move, in and out of her, slowly, making sure she felt every inch of him. His hand moved to the small of her back, and he applied pressure, arching her in such a way that he could push in further. She let out a gasp, and Jack looked sharply at her face. It was sweet with pleasure, and Jack started moving faster. They were such beautiful machines, and all thought was concentrated on the heat of her.

"Jack," she whispered, her face contorted with the brink, and Jack lost it. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her up an extra inch, slamming himself easily in and out of her, damned with her pleasure. He felt her legs shudder, her muscles tighten, and when she moaned his name on her release he heard himself echoing his response.


The water was getting cold. How long had it been?

Kate systematically began to relax her muscles. She pushed herself against the glass wall and pulled herself off of Jack, standing shakily. Her legs felt like jelly. Kate turned to see Jack and found him not looking at her. She was not surprised by this.

What was she supposed to do? The choice was on one hand obvious, and on the other, decidedly not. Leaving Sawyer, trying for a life with Jack…was that the right choice? Sometimes it felt right, but how could she possibly know for sure? This man she'd known for so little time… She'd married Sawyer in such haste, and look what that had left her with.

It was hard to disentangle how she felt about Jack from how she felt about their situation. He had so much goodness in him, and was so handsome, and the way she felt when he was looking at her…she felt so alive. But was that only because they were carrying on this affair? Did she feel so strongly because she was acting in spite of Sawyer, or because she had an honest connection to Jack?

She was undeniably pulled to this man. At times she ached for him. And her husband seemed to know whenever she was thinking about Jack. She was marked all over with the proof of Sawyer's knowledge. And why had she let him hurt her? She had never let a man touch her that way before…never.

…Was it because she felt like she deserved it? Kate felt the familiar prick of tears, stimulated by the frustration she felt towards herself. She bit her lip, squeezing her eyes tight.

The spray of water stopped, prompting Kate to open her eyes on a hopeful gasp. Jack was looking at her, his soulful brown eyes stripping her bare.

"Let's get dry."

Kate nodded, biting her lip again with her two front teeth. She would not cry again…she would not cry again…

Jack opened the glass door and let her out first, closing the door behind them. Kate stood anxiously on the bathmat, suddenly embarrassed by her nakedness. She shielded her chest with her arms, fists curled under her chin as her skin started to pucker because of the cold. Unwelcome shivers began at her teeth.

Jack grabbed a towel – she wouldn't mention it was Sawyer's – and wrapped it around Kate's shoulders. It hung just past her hips. Naked and seemingly immune to the cold, Jack rubbed her upper arms through the towel, and then her back. He grabbed another towel, this one just a bit smaller, and patted her hair dry. He inadvertently tipped her head back, and Kate looked up into his face. The set of his lips and the clench of his jaw belied his emotions. She wanted to kiss every inch of his face to smooth his worries, but stopped short under the realization that his fears were founded, and all because of her. Oh, what was she supposed to do? Kate released a tumbled sigh.

He looked to her lips, and his jaw unhinged. Oh Jack… She wanted to sigh, but instead she pulled herself out of his embrace and turned to leave the bathroom. The towel he'd used to dry her hair fell to the ground as she went, and she didn't stop to pick it up. Kate walked into her bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed she shared with her husband.

Of one thing she was certain: she didn't want to stop sleeping with Jack. Kate sighed again, for once releasing a smooth breath. She needed time and space to think. Sawyer's absence was supposed to afford her both, but instead she'd found herself reaching out to the subject of her midnight anguish.

Jack padded into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. After an indecisive moment, while Kate observed him with detachment, Jack took the seat next to her on the bed. Kate didn't turn to look at him, instead biting the inside of her lip, toying with her surfacing feelings. Her brain was such a muddled mess. What she could identify, what she hated, was that she had to actively fight the urge to be relaxed and content around him, because their relationship just wasn't that simple anymore.

Hazily she recalled the afternoon, after Jack and Sawyer had played golf together. Her and Jack had been so carefree then, and it had been such an exciting revelation to feel that liberated after so long. That afternoon had been like…like she was eighteen again, working on her neighbor's farm, sneaking beers with Tom under the dogwoods. It was just so easy to be alive then.

Jack seemed troubled by his own thoughts. He had his feet on the ground, and, leaning most of his weight on the arms propped against his thighs, he seemed to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. The carpet was on the receiving end of his pensive glare.

Kate couldn't help it. She shifted herself closer to Jack, and then leaned her tired head on his shoulder. He tensed immediately, and for a bated breath she thought he might throw her off of him. But soon enough he was relaxing, and after an anxious moment, he turned and kissed her forehead.

"Oh Kate," he breathed, kissing her chastely again, this time on top of her hair. He put his arm around her, squeezed her close, and then contented himself with rubbing his hand over her upper arm. They stayed like that for a minute, and then Kate brought her legs over Jack's lap, leaning more against him. Jack clasped her to him with a massaging hand to her ankles.

…There really wasn't anything to say. This was simply an impasse.

"Jack—" she tried, looking up at him. He shushed her immediately, and then covered her lips with his own. If she was startled, it was nothing against the sudden flood of emotions. Above all, she was shocked that he had taken such a step. Their last coupling, not ten minutes ago, he'd seemed so frustrated at himself to be swept up in their implacable passion. But now…

Jack was deepening their kiss so effortlessly, sweeping her along with him. She had been worried it might be their last time together in the shower; one final giving in. Her mind was reeling under Jack's assault of her mouth. What did this mean? What could it mean? They hadn't talked – she hadn't decided to leave Sawyer yet. Could this mean…Jack didn't care? That he didn't care that legally, she was Sawyer's? And that even if she was Sawyer's, he was going to take her anyway? They were going to have sex in Sawyer's bed. Jack wanted to have sex with her in Sawyer's bed.

Heat, deliciously molten, throbbed below her navel. Oh…this was hot. This hot, sexy man wanted her…and she wanted him, and damned the consequences. Kate moaned into their kiss. She slid her hand over Jack's chest, through his soft, wet smattering of chest hair, moving until she was cradling the back of his head and threading her fingers through the very short hair at his nape. She wanted to see his head between her thighs, and she wanted to feel his cock in her hands. The images shocked the hell out of her, and brought a surge of heat between her hips.

Jack was waking against her inner thigh, making Kate wonder when she'd shifted to straddle him. He had one hand curled against the inside of her knee, and one hand kneading her ass. She tilted her hips forward, wanting more, wanting his fingers inside of her. As if reading her mind, Jack reached around her hip, and the pads of his fingers were suddenly at her opening. Kate inhaled his moan as he sunk two fingers into her. Oh, Jack… Had she said that out loud? She had, and a thrill ran up her spine. It made it her feel so good to say things out loud. This man made her feel so utterly wanted. She hadn't felt so wanted in all her life.

Kate dipped her hips, following the ministrations of Jack's fingers. She took her mouth off his, kissing along his face, feeling his stubble against her cheek. She found his earlobe and took it between her teeth. Jack's thumb found her clit, and Kate released a heady moan. "Oh Jack," she whispered again, lifting herself on her knees and dropping her hips. Jack kept up perfectly. "I want you…"

Jack groaned, consenting, his fingers rubbing faster, circling within her. She felt the familiar licking, the mounting smolder and beating of her core.

Kate pulled back. She stepped off Jack's lap and he almost followed but for the forceful hand she put on his chest. Kate's towel fell to the floor. Jack's was mostly unraveled across his thighs, but as she settled her weight on her feet Kate pushed the fabric to the side. Jack's erection bounced eagerly before her, and a glance to Jack's face saw his mouth sagged open; he looked shocked and turned on as all hell. Kate folded her fingers around the base of his erection, and gingerly kissed the tip. She heard Jack gasp, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him fist the duvet. Kate opened her mouth more fully around him, her wet mouth making quick work of his length. He was warm and silky smooth against her tongue, and the invasive proof of his desire for her sent an aching throb to her sex. It was amplifying her desire for his man, and the familiar tension came on suddenly. This was the brink, suddenly real, and she moaned around the cock she had moving in her mouth. She released him, panting for more.

Jack's hands were under her arms, and she flew into the air. He scooted back over the bed and then lowered her over him, grabbing her ass when her weight was settled on her knees outside his hips. Just as she was anticipating riding him sweetly from above, he flipped them. Kate's eyebrows shot up as her back found the silky duvet. Jack didn't give her the opportunity to adjust, thrusting himself inside her in one fell swoop. Her head fell back, a loud moan on her lips, partly from surprise and partly from being oh, so aware. She was aware of every bit of him, and the way he started pumping in and out of her had her whole body reeling. The tension flared in her groin, the smolder whipping to a frenzy.

"Jack—" she moaned, again and again, until finally she was lost, a tumble of passion, her orgasm sweeping through her like wildfire. Jack didn't let up all at once, and she was privy to the way she split him. He came gloriously, full of ardor and all for her.


It might have been six in the morning. She really wasn't sure when the sun rose at this time of year, but there was a lightening grey outside her windows and she smiled in spite of the clouds.

She hadn't slept much. Jack's chest was pressed against her bare back, and he felt so warm and soothing she couldn't be bothered to move. The moment was blissful. Her body was deliciously and intimately sore, yet even now she wanted more from him. She hadn't had enough of Jack yet, and again she was reminded of herself at eighteen, first discovering the pleasure of a man. That man had been different; a friend, whose comforting presence had been as easily given up as it was easily found. Everything about Jack was harder to come by, just as everything was more difficult to give up. He was more consuming than anyone she'd met in her short life.

Parts of Jack were waking up before other parts, and Kate smiled, giddy and happy. What the rest of the day held she had no idea, but she knew how she would meet it. Wiggling gently, she turned beneath Jack's weighted arm, so she could see his sleeping face. Kate couldn't remember the last time she had seen his face so soft and relaxed; she might have never seen his forehead so smooth and his jaw so slack.

Kate snaked one arm beneath Jack's neck, and she toyed with the hair at his nape. Her free hand slid down his arm, then across his stomach. She traced further down until she found his erection, which had been so enjoyably pressed against her ass. She gave him a light, smooth stroke, and watched with pleasure as Jack woke up. Before he could open his eyes she kissed him, and his momentary resistance softened like so much butter. She leaned so he would allow her to move on top of him, her hair cascading over her shoulders as it obeyed gravity.

His mouth tasted stale and warm and hers couldn't have been better, so she released his lips and carried hers to his face, his ears, the underside of his chin. She closed her mouth around his adam's apple again and again, gratified by the way it vibrated against her lips. Kate leaned up, brave in her nakedness with him. She loved the way he sucked air through his teeth at what she hoped was the way she appeared in his eyes. Jack himself was becoming visible in the early grey of dawn, his eyes and lips shining in the weak light. Lightly Jack bucked his hips against her, giving her enough of a suggestion that she held her weight with her thighs.

Her pelvis melted as she watched him angle his cock toward her sex. She throbbed when she felt the head of him against her, and then slip inside, so thick and overwhelming. He went slack beneath her, momentarily enraptured. Her heart echoed the sentiment, and slowly she began to move. He rested his hands lightly on her upper thighs and allowed her to set the pace. This was it. This was all that she needed. She needed Jack in her bed, with her, just like this. She'd never felt so in control as she did when with him, and so assured of herself. She felt confident when he was loving her like this. The confidence made her all the more aroused. Jack's fingers flexed against her skin, driving Kate steadily in the direction of the edge. She sped up the rise and fall of her hips and let her eyes close. Only when she felt Jack's thumb on her clit did she realize he'd moved beneath her. His thumb was warm and wet, and he slowly moved it against her as she moved herself. It was brilliant.

Her breathing increased and not from fatigue; inhales became wet with the increase in her pleasure. Jack's thumb swirled deliciously and intimately, and she stopped thinking. Jack was having sex with her. Jack was having sex with her. She shifted her weight forward and rested her hands on either side of his chest, using a new set of muscles to move herself up and down. The motion became secondary and forgotten as her brain focused on the building and satisfying sensation they made together.

Jack's hands traveled up her sides and to her breasts. He cupped their fullness as she ebbed and flowed against his palms. His warm thumb circled her nipple, and then Kate sensed Jack move before she felt him. He tensed beneath her and then the heat of his chest was inches from hers, and his mouth captured her nipple. His tongue dragged against her breast with a light suction, and Kate let out a small shout. She was ablaze with him.

His mouth opened against her breast as his breathing began to catch up with hers, and soon quiet moans were vibrating against her damp skin. Kate threw her arms around Jack's neck and threw herself into the motion of her hips, and Jack buried his head against her neck. The pleasure in her core was pulsing at the edge, waiting for release. Jack's hands were on her ass, but now not as support. His gripped her flesh and pulled her up and down. She felt his brow against her bare shoulder, his exhales against her breast, and his ardor took her down.

"Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate," he chanted as her most intimate muscles spasmed and flexed. He was still pounding her against him, but slower now. His mantra soothed her as she faded. After the smallest of respites, Kate renewed her attention to the man she surrounded. Her goal wasn't to arouse but consume and imprint. If the morning never came she wouldn't care; this moment could last forever.

Jack began to mimic the way she held him close. He breathed deeply into her skin, only to bring her down onto the bed with his exhale. They lay tangled up in each other, not speaking, until the first beams of sunlight were eking through the windows.

They kissed, and sighed and looked toward the east.


Jack checked his watch for the twenty-ninth time. He had no idea why he was so anxious. A part of him was terrified she wouldn't show, and a part of him was terrified that she would. She was late.

His coffee cup was long past empty, but he held onto the paper container anyway. It gave him something to do with his hands, and kept him from staring outside the window.

He would be okay, he resolved, for the twenty-ninth time. He would be okay if she didn't show. Their time together had been so short, so he could easily move on with enough time – and he had the rest of his life. It was a life he had hoped to spend with her, yes, but given enough time… Jack's heart was racing as much as it had been the first time he'd checked his watch. He was a jumble of nerves. If he'd been mature enough to explore his feelings, Jack would realize that he was nervous because literally every card in the deck was in her hands. Sitting by himself at a nondescript coffee shop at sunset…Jack was powerless, and that was terrifying.

They hadn't talked much that morning. They hadn't figured out why they wanted to be together, and in what context their relationship would be realistic or okay. It kept coming back to the fact that theirs was a story not worth telling.

He remembered all too well the look in her eyes when he saw her last, and the way her eyes looked like the ocean. "I'll be there this afternoon. All afternoon. But if you meet me…that's the end. If you meet me, you meet me for real." He had left her that morning wanting to believe her promises. He chose to believe her promises when he was stretching the definition of afternoon and coming up with every conceivable reason she would be late by fate's design.

A bell chimed softly.

Jack's head snapped in the door's direction.

She was there.

Of course she was there. The lies he'd been telling to himself were exposed by his rush of unrelenting relief. Of course he wouldn't be okay without her, and no amount of time would make the rest of his life okay without her.

She was beautiful in the way her big toothy smile split her face. She was sunlight. Jack unknowingly stood, having found himself walking toward her. At sunset the coffee shop was all but empty, and he embraced Kate. He wrapped himself around Kate and he kissed her mouth to breath in some of her light.

They were smiling too much to kiss.

The reality that she was in his arms was catching up to the fantasy of her he'd made in his mind. There was nothing stuck between them anymore. Kate was against him, and her arms were pressed into his back as if she was similarly verifying his existence.

"Let's go," she whispered, and all he could do was nod. Her light was flooding him with a happiness he'd never known, and which he never thought he deserved.

Together they walked out to her car. There were a few boxes in the backseat, overflowing with the obviousness they'd been packed quickly. Kate took the driver's seat, and Jack sat in the passenger's. He couldn't stop staring at her, and he couldn't stop smiling. Kate put the key into the ignition but didn't turn it. She turned to Jack instead, reflecting his joy. They had no idea where they were going, but they were going together.

This was the beginning of their story.


The end.

I am so sorry it took me so long to finish this saga. I hope it has all been worth it, and I hope you've enjoyed reading this strange story. Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading.