I just want to see you

When you're all alone

I just want to catch you if I can

I just want to be there

When the morning light explodes

On your face it radiates


The Pogues – Love You 'Till The End

He knew it was a cheesy line, "You good in a vest"; but it was true, she did.

The beauty of Jess was that most of the time she didn't even try. He'd seen her roll out of bed, pull on jeans and run her fingers through her hair, ready to leave for brunch within fifteen minutes looking hotter than ever. From the sexy dresses and the way she curled her hair for Saturday night dates with him, to the long French braids and Nike pants she wore to run; she always looked good.

There were times he cursed her looks: The night he'd spent a dangerous amount of time during a stakeout thinking about how magnificent she looked in the scraps of lace she called 'underwear', instead of concentrating on the actual task in hand. The morning that she'd worn his last clean shirt as she dried her hair and drank coffee, leaving her scent impregnated on the fabric which taunted him for the remainder of the day. She had however taken pity on him that day; pulling him into a deserted fourth floor record room and indulging at least two of his fantasies.

He didn't get to see her looking good nearly as much as he'd like though, much to his chagrin. Between their clashing shifts, separate friends and family and her willful independence; their relationship was limited to a few dates or sleepovers a week. While he wanted to push for more of her time, he thought it wise, for the time being anyway, to take things at her pace.

He'd been pleased to find therefore, that for once their days off coincided. Hoping he could convince her to spent the time with him, taking a trip out of the city or lazing in coffee bars and the movies, he'd been about to call when she'd texted him, grumbling that she'd been called in to cover a colleague. With his plans for a day with Jess dashed, he'd spent the day moping and reluctantly running errands to the grocery store and dry cleaner.

Lying stretched out on the sofa, beer in hand and aimlessly flicking through the TV channels, he'd been unbearably bored. He'd tried calling her a couple of times to suggest dinner after her shift but each time the phone clicked to voicemail. He could have called other friends, gone for a run or driven to dinner at his brother's, but instead chose to continue to brood.

He'd just about given up and pulled on his sneakers to venture outside when the buzzer sounded. Her voice had been small, lacking the usual exuberance and repartee.

o-o-o

Standing in the doorway, she was dressed more casually than usual; slouchy jeans and sneakers, soft fleece zipped up to her chin and, he noted, his faded Rangers cap pulled low on her brow. She normally met him with a sassy grin and quip but instead crept wordlessly into his arms. It wasn't that she was unaffectionate, quite the opposite in fact, just that it was usually with much more reserve and control. Her sudden urge for contact both surprised and concerned him, although he selfishly allowed himself to simply enjoy the sensation of being close. As he pulled back to greet her, her head dropped, shielding her face from his eyes.

He lifted the cap, about to tease her about her entrance, but instead revealed the fresh bruise on her cheek. "Jesus Jess", he growled, anger flashing in his eyes. She flinched as he brushed stray strands of hair from her face, tilting her cheek towards the light. Sighing and shaking his head, he led to her to a kitchen chair, his jaw tightening as she grimaced to sit. It was a grimace he recognized, one he'd made enough times himself.

Kneeling in front of her he unzipped the fleece, delicately peeling back her t-shirt and camisole to expose the angry reddish-purple over her rib cage. Sitting back on his heels he sighed, scrubbing his hand over his shorn hair, "What happened Jess? Why didn't you call me?"

"I'm fine" she defended fiercely.

Snorting, he spat "You clearly fucking not fine Jess!" before adding more softly, "What happened?"

Usually so tall and confident, she seemed to gradually shrink under his glare. "Becker and I picked up a couple of kids; one of them didn't the way I talked to him…"

She sat silently as he cursed the kid who slugged her and didn't resist as he pressed an icepack to her cheek. The air was uneasy as he shook his head, before smiling wearily, "You should have called me Jess", and leaning forward to embrace her as tightly as he dared.

The ringing of her cell phone broke them apart, holding it out to show him the screen she mouthed, "Ali".

Jess had talked about her friend Ali often enough and, although they'd never met, he liked the sound of her; an ER physician originally from Scotland, she and Jess had met in Paris during their early 20's. While Jess had returned home, Ali had continued to work her way around the globe, arriving in New York some eighteen months previous.

As she held the phone to her ear, he watched over her intently; it was a one sided conversation with Jess only nodding and occasionally offering a quiet "Okay" and "Uh-huh". She frowned a little and then held out the cell, "She wants to talk to you."

"Don? Ali McGregor", the voice barked.

She was a whirlwind; berating Jess for being in a position to be harmed and then speaking dotingly of her, expertly describing the injuries sustained and sighing, "Ach, the ribs are just cracked but I really wanted to keep her in for a wee while. She was having none of it though...you know how she is." He nodded; he was slowly working her out.

Wrapping up the conversation, she lectured him about giving Jess acetaminophen for the pain and making sure she rested. He smiled at the fondness in her voice, although wasn't sure if her final words were of advice or warning; "She's a tough girl but inside…" she paused, thoughtfully, "Just make sure and look after Don."

He didn't need to be told to look after Jess; feeding her dinner and finding the series on TLC he knew she enjoyed, dressing her in his favorite t-shirt and easing her into bed. As she lay, sleeping beside him, he watched in wonder; even when she was fragile and bruised, she looked good.