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2. Paper

Soggy and rumpled, Jack and Carly limped through the parking garage and made their way to the Lakeview elevator. While Jack no longer needed her for balance, she stuck close, his arm resting lightly over her shoulders. Once they were inside, she pressed the button for the fifth floor, then joined him leaning against the back wall.

"You'e sure you don't want to go to the ER? A couple of hours in some hard chairs surrounded by drunks and screaming babies...always a good time."

"There's always the station."

Carly put on an apologetic smile as she shook her head. "Just not the same."

"I told you it was only sprained," Jack insisted. "It's barely swollen, I can put weight on it. All a doctor's going to tell me to do is ice, elevate, and stay off it."

"I almost forgot how much you hate hospitals."

"You're not a fan either," he replied, lifting his eyebrows. "Brain tumors...births...you avoid them like the plague."

"Hey, I was at the hospital. They told me it was BraxtonHicks, and sent me home. I was looking forward to a nice epidural this time around," Carly retorted. "Technically I was at the hospital. I just wasn't in it."

"Touche," Jack conceded.

"It should still be wrapped," Carly sighed, returning to the original subject. "Thank goodness for twenty-four hour drugstores," her purchases-two bags of frozen peas, an ace bandage and a bottle of ibuprofen, dangling by her side. "Maybe we should've just packed it in and gone home," she added quietly.

"The room's already paid for," Jack said gruffly as the car came to a stop. He slid his arm over her shoulders without waiting, not giving her time to support her argument. "Besides," he added as they started toward their room, "...we'd wake the entire house, get stuck explaining everything. And we deserve some kind of celebration...even if's it's only a good night's sleep."

"Hey!" Carly chastised sharply as they stopped in front of their door. Fishing the keycard out of his pocket, she twisted the doorknob once the little light flashed green. "All I ever needed is you."

"Good thing you talked me into marrying you."

"I should have just sprained your ankle; it would've saved me thirteen years of chasing after you," she retorted, giving him a steely-eyed glare.

He gave her a boyish smile. "I slowed down to a jog now and then; it was either that or tell you to take off those heels." Jack bent in close enough to whisper in her ear. "And I like you in heels." Carly looked up at him, simmering desire in her eyes. Jack leaned into her body, putting his hand over hers on the doorknob. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" she asked slowly.

"Just close them," he repeated, distracted by the tingling electricity building between them.

Grudgingly, she did as he asked, but just for a moment before trying to squint through the corner of her eyes.

"No peeking," Jack admonished, taking her by the shoulder and nudging her to take a step into the darkened room. "Keep them closed," he insisted, limping in the semi-dark to the side table. He felt around, found up a remote and limped back behind her. "Okay, open them," he said, as he pointed at the stereo system and pushed the play button.

The distinctive blend of night sounds began to rise and fall as her eyes opened. Crickets, cicadas, bullfrogs and a slow moving current of water drifted around the room. Strings of lights crisscrossed above them, twinkling like stars. Seashells were scattered on the coffee table, with a vase of a dozen red roses. An pair of old-fashioned lanterns hung in the corners, and a musty smelling rope coiled underneath. There was even the smell of freshly sanded wood and paint hanging in the air. If she closed her eyes, she could inhale and imagine they were back at the boathouse where the first of many nights together had started.

"Someone's been busy," she said, awestruck.

"I know it's a little tacky looking..."

"Don't!" Carly spun around, winding an arm around his neck to press a long, lingering kiss to his lips, forgetting his balance was precarious as she nestled her body closer to his. "It's romantic." Maybe not to every woman, but to her, it was just this side of paradise.

"I thought if I couldn't take you out of town...I could take you back in time," Jack whispered in her ear.

Carly slipped her hand though his hair. "I should have worn pink."

"You look just as good in red."

"No wonder you wanted to rush back here," Carly said contritely. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

Eyes glistening, she shook her head. "Let's get cleaned up, order some food, and get your ankle wrapped." She didn't wait for him to answer, stepping to his side and resting an arm around his back as she manuevered him to the bathroom.

In short order, he was in the shower, alone, even though it was bigger than average and roomy enough for two. Carly had stripped him down without a hitch, ushered him under a relaxing stream of water at exactly the right temperature and left to order room service.

Once he was done, she slipped under the showerhead herself, leaving him to wander the room wrapped in one of the Lakeview's obscenely luxurious robes. Grabbing an apple from the complimentary fruit basket, he settled on the bed, stretching his legs out, with a pillow between his back and the headboard.

"That pillow should be elevating your ankle."

Wrapped in her own Lakeview bathrobe, Carly leaned in the doorway, patting the moisture from her hair with a thick towel. Bare-footed, nothing more than her delicate ankles showing as she walked over, Jack still felt a rush as she sat on the edge of the bed, carefully examining his ankle. "Is that your professional opinion, Nurse Tenney?"

"Nurse Snyder," she corrected. "I've gotten a good education since meeting you," she added pointedly. "Sprained ankles, bruised and broken ribs, a separated shoulder, several concussions, and more gunshot wounds than I can count. Not to mention a knife wound and septicemia."

"Chicks dig scars," was his smart-assed reply. "Or so I've been told."

"I'm the only chick you need to worry about, buster," she said, taking the fresh ace bandage out and efficiently wrapping his ankle. Doubling a pillow, she rested it on top and used one bag of peas to ice the area. "How does it feel?"

"Fine," he shrugged. "I've had worse sprains. You forgot the time that time I almost drowned."

"It would take me all day to go down that list," she smiled weakly, preferring not to remember how many brushes with death he'd had. "I'm sorry. I was..."

A knock at the door interrupted her. "Room service."

Carly sprung up to get it, recinching the belt of her robe as she peered through the peephole. Satisfied, Carly opened the door, motioning the server inside. "Over by the bed, please," she asked. Adding a nice tip, she signed the bill, earning a smile as she closed the door behind him. "You must be starved," she said, as Jack stole fries off the plate.

"A little," Jack admitted, stealing more. "I had reservations at that new bistro over on Sullivan," he added as Carly placed the tray over his lap. "This smells delicious," he said with the reverence of a man who was not only hungry, but grateful he hadn't had to guess what he was ordering at an expensive restaurant, just before sinking his teeth in the hamburger she'd ordered.

Taking her napkin, Carly dabbed at a drop of ketchup on the corner of his mouth. "I knew you'd like it," she said, returning to her own grilled chicken sandwich.

"I promise, we'll get over to that bistro."

"I know we will...eventually."

They finished in companionable silence, Carly wheeling the cart out into the hall once they were finished.

"Can you grab my jacket for me?" Jack asked. Reaching into an inside pocket, he fished out an envelope. "It wouldn't be an anniversary without a present, would it? I was going to give it to you at the restaurant, but the night kind of got away from me," he added sheepishly. He held out the long, rectangular envelope to her. "Paper is traditional for a first anniversary," he said with a trace of pride.

"I thought this was my present," Carly replied, motioning at the room.

"Well," Jack reddened, "...I'd hoped this," he copied the move Carly had used just a moment before, "...would have gotten me laid tonight."

Flustered, Carly kissed him an affirmative reply. Her eyes glittered as they looked into his. "So what's this?" she asked, inching closer, as if it was a secret to be kept between them, and only them.

"Open it and see."

Carly ran a finger under the square edge, the foil lined envelope opening easily. "Concert tickets," she said blandly, withdrawing two smaller rectangles.

"I thought you'd like them," Jack cajoled, trying to spin what now seemed like a lame gift. "We'll make it a weekend. James Taylor, shopping on Lakeshore Drive-what could be better-"

"Shush," Carly replied, laying a finger on his lips. Finding her own purse, she handed him an envelope.

"Concert tickets," Jack said, opening his gift. "James Taylor."

They dissolved into a fit of laughter, having given each other tickets to the same show.