A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been ill, and then had to catch up RL stuff from being ill. But on the plus side, I'm better now, so there shouldn't be such a huge delay before the next chapter. Thanks for sticking with me.

They sit in silence for a long moment, hands still clasped between them, not looking at each other. She lets the heat of her mug warm her hand as she cradles it, taking the occasional gulp as the coffee turns cold. Eventually, with her mug now empty, the quiet becomes too much, and she turns her head towards him.

"I know you…"
"I'm sorry I…"

He speaks at the same time, and they give an embarrassed laugh. Jack nods to her. "Sorry. You go."

She takes a breath, knowing her first statement is the most important one. "I know you wouldn't hurt me."

When he ducks his head away from her, staring into his now coffee mug, she squeezes the hand she still has a tight hold of. Still facing away, he rasps, "James thought I could."

"Yes, well, obviously James doesn't know you like I do." When he still doesn't meet her gaze, her tone becomes anxious, desperate for him to believe her. "I swear, Jack, I tried to tell him, but he kept going on and on… he wouldn't listen to me. He said something about a sister…"

She sees Jack nod, finally glancing in her direction. "Claire. I've never met her. He doesn't really talk about her much."

"He told me she was abused. Said that's how he had that card. I guess…" she releases his hand for a moment, bringing it to her neck. "I guess it, this, hit pretty close to home."

He gives a snort with no mirth behind it. "Yeah."

They lapse back into silence. She feels him shift slightly beside her, and she wonders what he's thinking. Placing her mug on the table in front of them, she leans forwards, resting her weight on her arms where she's resting them on her knees, her hands clasped together. When he still doesn't say anything more, she turns her head slightly to look at him.

His form is still hunched under his borrowed towel, head bowed again, but at least he has stopped shivering, and his pallor has returned to a somewhat normal shade. Confident he's no longer on the cusp of developing hypothermia (just as well, she really didn't relish the thought of having to explain that one to the others at work (Read; Clarissa)), she tries again.

"What were you going to say?"

"Huh?" Jack raises his head, meeting her gaze with a confused one of his own.

"Before. You were going to say something. What was it?"

"Oh." He shakes his head, looking away from her again. "It doesn't matter now."

His quiet tone and soft rebuttal confuse her. After everything they've been through today, he's going to push her away? Has she somehow pissed him off that much he no longer wants anything to do with her? (No. Don't be stupid.) Hesitantly, not sure how she'll cope if the answer to her question is 'yes', she asks, "Are… Are you angry with me?"

That at least seems to spur him into some sort of life, and this time when her gaze is met he doesn't drop it. "What? No." He gives a firm shake of his head. "Why would you… No."

"But… You didn't answer your phone." It's not the moment she's really thinking of, but now that she's said it she realises his cold brush off earlier has stung more than she thought it would. Because, if he's not angry with her, why would he ignore her frantic attempts to reach him?

"My phone?"

The confusion in his tone makes her pause. "I tried calling. Before, when you were out. I called. You didn't… so I thought…" She trails off before the accusation she can feel building is released, staring intently at her hands, unable to meet his gaze for fear of seeing his… what? Disappointment? Judgement? She's not sure.

Before she can work it out, he gives a sigh beside her. "Nikki. No. No, I'm not angry at you."

"But," she pauses, daring to give him a small glance out the corner of her eye. "But you didn't answer…"

He interrupts her before she can finish. "I didn't even have it with me. I left it. It's in my jacket. When I left, I didn't… you called me?"

She finds she is shocked by his shocked tone. He had ran out on her, clearly upset, and he expected her to what, ignore it? Let him run away thinking she thought that about him? Seriously?! Anger building in her tone, she gives him a scathing look. "Wha-? Of course I called you. You just ran out of here… I didn't even… I was worried about you!"

"Why?"

She is staring openly at him now, truly baffled by his behaviour. "What do you mean, why? You're my friend. You were upset. I wanted to make sure…"

His own tone has become angry, the volume raised. (Jesus, why can't they ever just have a normal conversation without everything getting so screwed up?!) "What? That I wasn't beating up another wall? Is that what you…?"

"God, no, that's not it at all!" She can feel her own anger building again. "Stop putting words in my mouth!"

"Then what is it, huh? What?"

It's the mocking in his tone that finally breaks her, and the truth of the previous night come out unbidden.

"It was my fault!"

They sit for a moment in silence, the quiet after the yelling a shock to the system. God, why did she have to go and say that? Convinced he's about to walk out on her again (clothed or not), his quiet voice stalls her. "What? How is any of this your fault?"

Avoiding the eye contact he's trying to make, she mutters to her hands, "Because I should have stopped him."

She can tell she's confused him when he says, "What? James? You said you tried…"

Understanding dawns, and she shakes her head. "No. Not James. Last night. Simon. I should have…"

"What?"

She finds herself stuttering over the events of the previous night. The memory of his grip around her throat after she had distracted him away from Amy making her voice falter. "I goaded him. I just. He. With Amy. And then…"

Jack interrupts her again, and she can hear the anger in his tone, making her wince. "I can't. I can't hear this."

She reaches for him, trying not to show how much he hurts her when he pulls away from her hand. "Jack..."

He evades her grip, standing up, clearly intending to leave. In desperation, she stands too and goes to grab his wrist, but he pulls himself free, taking a step back. "No. Stop it. Just stop it. I can't... please, Nikki."

She is crying again now, can feel the tears as they well unbidden, before one breaks free and escapes. "I'm sorry." She doesn't know what she's apologising for. Anything. Maybe everything. All she wants is for him to stop running away from her, and the apology comes out in desperation.

Her tears, at least, seem to stall him momentarily. "Don't apologise." He shakes his head, but still moves away from her, heading towards the dryer that she has belatedly realised has stopped its cycle. "I should…"

Following him with her gaze, she watches silently as he pulls the dryer open, quickly turning her head around when he pulls his clothes out, the grip on his towel faltering slightly. After a few minutes (during which she does not look round to see him dressing (ok, so she might have peeked. A little,)) he walks back past her to his shoes. When he doesn't stop, but proceeds to put them on, she panics. "Where are you going?" He doesn't answer, but instead heads towards her hallway. "Jack?"

She reaches for him, and has successfully managed to get him turned to face her when she finally hears what it is he's muttering. "I need to go… I need… I can't…"

He pulls away from her again, and she gives a small cry of frustration. "Goddamn it Jack! Stop pushing me away."

He turns back to her without her guidance this time, and she starts at the hard look that has returned to his eyes. "You should stay away from me."

"Wha-?"

"I mean it." He turns back around, and suddenly the hot-cold emotional rollercoaster he has put her on is all too much. Grabbing his wrist, she spins him on the spot, and, without another word or thought, slaps him, hard, across his face.

The echo of the slap rings loud in her otherwise silent flat. She stares at him in shock, desperate to say something. Anything. But what can she possibly say? He stares back equally silent, a red mark appearing on his cheek. She wants to say sorry. Wants to beg for forgiveness. What comes out (on a broken sob, and it is that which she hates the most) is, "I hate you."

"Nikki…"

"You have no idea what I…" She breaks off into another sob. Jack, at least, has stopped moving towards the door, but she is still shocked when he wraps his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. She resists for a moment, struggling against him, but his hold is strong and secure, and (because she is weak and has no will power against him) she gives up.

She feels his hand as it rubs soothing circles over her back, and she leans slightly further into his embrace as he mutters words of comfort to her. "No, no, don't cry. Not over me. Not… I'm not worth it."

"Says who?" The words are mumbled into his chest, and she more feels than hears his sigh in his response.

"Everyone. Everyone says it."

She pauses. There is so much she wants, needs to say in response to that. But she knows he won't hear any of her reasoning at the moment. Instead, she simply tells him, "I don't."

Jack sighs against her, his arms stilling, holding her to him instead. "I know."

They stand like that, two people entwined, the air heavy with everything unsaid, for a long moment. Eventually, she pushes away from him. The beginnings of humiliation (seriously, when is she going to start acting like an adult instead of some sort of emotional wreck?) stops her from being able to meet his gaze, and instead she stares at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

There are too many answers for that to be classed as a simple question. Eventually, she settles for, "For getting hurt." It's not everything, doesn't even come close to everything, but at least it's a start.

Jack, however, seems to find this answer inadequate, and she finds herself being pushed back to arm's length. "That's not why I'm angry." He drops his hold on her, tilting his head back with a frustrated growl. "God, you just don't get it do you? You really have no idea."

She is back to being confused. "What?"

"It's not that you got hurt." He pauses for a moment, before giving a rueful shake of his head. "Ok. It is. But not because…" Again he trails off, and she wonders what exactly it is he's trying to convey to her. Seemingly finding the words he wants, he continues. "I'm not explaining this very well. It's what you getting hurt does to me. It's about who, what I am. What I can do. How I can destroy…"

Nikki interrupts him. She has to. "Jack… You could never destroy…"

Apparently her interruption was the wrong move, however, because he suddenly meets her gaze with such fierce passion she cannot look away, even if she'd wanted to. "God, don't you get it, Nikki? Don't you see? I'm so completely in love with you I can't even…"

He stops suddenly, a look of… something she cannot even begin to describe passing over his face. Barely daring to breathe, she asks, "Did… did you just say you love me?"

She can see the panic in his face, even as his eyes break their captive hold on hers and he begins to look at everything in the room except her. His voice has a slight hysterical tone to it that, had the subject matter been anything else, she might have found humorous. "Love? No. No. Well, ok, yes. I mean…

"You… you love me?" There is a sort of breathless wonder to her own tone now. She had known he was attracted to her (she has eyes, and he isn't always as subtle as he thinks he is) but love?

Before she can dwell on the shock reveal (but really, is it a shock?) he is speaking again, haltingly at first before becoming quicker. "Well, yeah. Ok. Look. That was really dumb. Forget it, ok? I didn't say anything. We'll just put that down to a temporary loss of hearing, or something, ok." He nods his head, still not looking at her. It's oddly sweet. "Right. Good. Ok. So I should go. Yeah. I'm just gonna…"

Smiling now, she stops his rambling with a gentle touch on his arm. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Before he can say anything else, she reaches up, bringing his head down slightly, and kisses him.

TBC

A/N: does this count as fluff?