A/N: M rating for this chapter and a warning for sexual content, if that's not your cup of tea avert your eyes elsewhere, otherwise please enjoy. Thanks for coming back for chapter 2! And thank you for your lovely comments and encouragement!

Chapter 2

Under Cover Lovers

He let his fingers slowly tangle into her hair, pulling lightly and then more sharply as she responds to him, her fingers biting into his sides, her kiss becoming rougher. His hand slides up and down her back, gripping on to her dress and cradling her against him.

Feeling was pulsing through her from the points where his body met hers. Warmth rippled through the numbness that had flooded her since she heard the news; as though he was being carried through her bloodstream to every part of her, setting her on fire and bringing her back to life better than a shot of adrenaline.

His hands grip tightly onto her waist, lifting her easily into his lap. Her tongue presses urgently against his lips as he does so. Her body melted against him, relaxing in to him, trusting herself to him, letting him take over a little, pushing in to her, deepening the kiss.

Her lungs were beginning to cry out for air, the brief snatches of oxygen that she was able to steal weren't enough but she couldn't let him go. Her palms were pressed flat against his chest, her fingers pulling apart the buttons on the jacket he worse, curling around the hem as it fell open, giving her something to ground herself with, using it to tug him closer to her.

Her hands were sliding under his jacket, dragging it from his shoulders; carried away by their kiss and unwilling to stop now. Her arms were wrapped around him, holding him to her, his doing the same to her, their bodies pressed so closely that she could feel the heat pouring from his skin, even through his shirt.

She finally broke the kiss, panting faintly, her fingers searching blindly at his shirt, picking it apart. He was softly murmuring her name between gentle kisses. His hands were gently peeling off the light shawl that was keeping him from her, his lips continuing to brush tenderly against hers.

His fingertips found her skin hot and flushed beneath his touch. She shivered as he touched her, her own fingers finding the warmth of his chest murmuring beneath them as she undid the buttons on his shirt. She heard her name again falling softly from his lips once more, soft and tender.

She looked up again, her hands still holding on to him, keeping them pressed together, his hands curled around her hips, reinforcing this.

"Kim..." He breathed gently, his hand moving from her waist to tenderly cup her cheek, his thumb lightly stroking her skin. "Kim."

He didn't have to say anything else. She knew. Knew why he was doing this, knew why there was doubt flickering in his eyes and why his touches had become light and protective.

"Yes." She told him firmly, pressing her lips against his, "Yes, Kimball. I'm sure...I'm sure."

He would understand. She knew. He wouldn't need any more than that from her. He trusted her judgement, he just had to be sure himself.

He kissed her. Hard.

She responded to him, tearing open his shirt as she neared the bottom and lost patience. She pulled it from him, dropping it on the floor behind them and letting her hands reach behind his shoulders, his fingers burying themselves in her thick hair.

She was breathing hard when he pulled away from her without warning, causing her eyes to snap open in surprise.

She had barely opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong when the words were replaced with a low, throaty moan of pleasure as his lips found her neck and began gently sucking there, instinct seeming to guide him to where she was most sensitive.

A soft gasp burst from her lips, her hands reaching out and desperately searching for him, holding on tightly when she found him. Her eyes clamped shut. Her senses filled by him. Every breath she took drew him deep into her lungs, drowning her in him.

She could still taste his kiss on her tongue. Hungering for him. The soft sound of his lips at her neck filled her ears, mingling with her own throaty snarls of pleasure.

His mouth was hot and barely as delicate as he needed to be, his teeth nipping at her skin every now and then making her shiver.

Her nerves were on fire, sparking at the lightest touch, his kiss causing pleasure to rip through her with apparent ease.

Her breath was coming in short, desperate pants now as she struggled to control herself. Her body arched against him in pleasure, electricity crackling through her spine and she clung to him, whispering his name.

He was making her feel again. He was bringing her back to herself. Bringing her back to him. And she was coming willingly. Rushing to him, surrendering to him, her lips finding him and kissing him, her body pressing against his, melting against him, wanting more of him, all of him, even as she gave him all of herself.

He was softly murmuring her name between kisses, easing off a little, letting her catch her breath. His hand was gently cradling her body to him, his other hand seizing a fistful of her hair as she began to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses across his neck. His fingers slid the zip of her dress down to her waist, his hand lingering there for a moment.

He paused. Savouring her. Then began to tease her from her dress, slipping it from her shoulders, his hands lightly caressing every inch of her as he reveals her to him, bit by bit, tormenting them both.

His lips gently trail delicate kisses from her collarbone, down over her chest to her stomach, feeling her relax, closing her eyes and letting his hands gently wander over her as he slowly and gently let the black silk fall from her like water.

She felt him pull her free of the dress at last and took her cue, undoing his belt and tugging his trousers from him. Her actions were and at odds with his gentle patience; rough, hungry, demanding.

She kissed him again without warning, her lips missing the feeling of his pressed against them. He indulged her for a moment, responding to her, his hands settling on her hips. She felt him beginning to guide her back down gently before bracing himself over her and kissing her again.

His fingers begin to gently tease her through her underwear. Pleasure ripples through her and she hisses faintly, grabbing the sheets beneath her and trying to ground herself as he does she. Panting, sweat slick on her skin now, feeling herself close to breaking point and unable to wait any longer, kissing him roughly and tugging him down onto her, irritably pulling away the last pieces clothing separating them.

He slides her underwear slowly down her legs, taking his time. Her eyes find his as he hovers over her again, leaning down and tenderly kissing her as he enters her. She breaks the kiss, gasping, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out, a rough growl escaping from her throat as he begins to thrust inside her. She clings to him, her nails biting into his skin, pulling him closer, kissing him and letting him guide her body into a rhythm with him.

Faint whispers of ecstasy begin to spill from her lips when she shatters against him without warning, nipping at his shoulder in her pleasure, her nails raking over his sides, mouthing wordlessly against his skin, feeling the tension in his body snap a second later as he softly snarls her name, his lips murmuring over her neck, his body collapsing against her a moment later.

They lie tangled in the dark, panting and struggling to calm themselves down. He shifts slightly and her body protests automatically as he withdraws, her hands clinging to him instinctively.

He kisses her gently, settling her again, somehow reassuring her in that moment that he has no plans to leave her just yet, slowly moving off of her to lie beside her.

She relaxes again as their bodies connect once more, side by side. She doesn't want him to leave. Which is unusual for her. She wouldn't exactly call herself a stranger to casual sex or one night stands. But she never stays any longer than she has to. She's never wanted to. It never works.

The job is too much of a barrier between her and anyone else. They never understand. They can never adjust to her lifestyle. She can't say she blames them. And it was always just easier for everyone involved if she never lingered where she could never be wanted.

Yet now she can't leave. And she couldn't bear it if he left either. He likes the feeling of him there beside her. The warm pressure of his body pressed close to her was comforting. It soothed her. She trusted him. She felt safe with him. She had missed feeling that way with anyone.

She liked being with him like this. She had missed being with someone the way that they were together now, close; intimate; comfortable. She had missed feeling this good with another person; because of another person.

She had been lonely. She had been so lonely, and she hadn't really noticed until now. Until she felt so safe in another person's arms again. And from the way his arms slid around her and held her closer to him; she guessed that he felt the same. She closed her eyes and let their bodies melt together. Their skin was still scorching and sensitive to him beside her, his body brushing against hers every now and then and sending ripples through her.

She felt him turn onto his side, his arms wrapping around her and pulling against him. His body fit around her like he'd been made for this, holding her tight to him. His lips gently feathered the back of her neck, just enough to let her know he was there. His hand settled protectively on her stomach and she placed hers on top, his skin was still hot and she liked the way he let his thumb absently stroke her as he held her.

She exhaled slowly, letting her body cool down, letting herself unravel slightly in his arms, her muscles relaxing, the tension in her fleeing from his touch. They lay entwined together on the bed, breathing each other in, savouring the time they had stolen from the night.

She had stopped feeling anything but him. Had ceased to be aware of anything in this world but him. His body wrapped around her, his fingers drawing endless, absent circles on her shoulder, his lips still brushing over her neck, his breath hot and soft on her skin, his chest rhythmically rising and falling as he breathed beside her, his heartbeat, that she was sure she could feel pulsing through her body, filling her with feeling, keeping her lost in him.

She was at peace with him. She was at peace with herself for the first time in so long that she had forgotten what it felt like. What it was like to be trapped in a moment and never want to escape. She never wanted to open her eyes again, she never wanted him to leave her side, she never wanted to leave this bed, she never wanted this to end.

She wants to be with him. She wants that until they both faded into nothingness together.

His lips paused for a moment on her neck and she shifted against him, confused.

"Kim." He murmured lightly in her ear, bringing her back to herself a little, "Are you alright?" He asked her quietly.

The question was more of a reassurance than an expression of concern.

"Yes, Kimball." She breathed softly, pressing closer to him to further her point.

He smiled faintly and lightly kissed her again.

They lay entangled together for so long that time seemed to stop for a little while. But pieces of her began to slowly remember where they belonged, trickling back and making her shiver. The reality of the situation was forcing itself on her without warning. Doubt crept in on her like cold, stealing into her like a shadow and she trembled a little.

It was good. It was so good. She knew him. She trusted him. It worked. They worked. It felt right. It felt as though they had been like this for years. Instinct had driven them. It was natural. It was easy. She wanted more. She wanted so much more from him.

If it had been anyone else, anyone but him, this would have been the best thing that she had done in so long. He knew her. He understood her. She had opened up to him. Let him in with barely a thought. He was good with her. He was good for her. Everything was right. But regret was suddenly flooding her.

It was a mistake. It was all a mistake. She was his superior for a start. She shouldn't have let him in like that. She shouldn't have shown him that part of her. That vulnerability. And if anyone found out about this, if anyone found out about them, if anyone knew what they'd done they could both lose everything.

Panic was pulsing through her system. She didn't know how she felt. She didn't know what was beside. She didn't know what she wanted. She didn't know what she was supposed to want.

All she knew was that he shouldn't have this effect on her.

She closed her eyes feeling his arms tighten around her, worry murmuring through him. She lightly squeezed the hand that he still held tightly on her stomach to calm him.

Her mind took a step back and began blocking him out. It wasn't him. It was her. She had been upset, emotional. She had wanted comfort, she had wanted someone, someone she knew, of course she had turned to him, of course she had gone to him when she had wanted someone, when she had needed someone, when, oh God...

Grief suddenly crashed around her. He had found a loose thread on her earlier and had gently pulled on it until she had come undone in his arms and now the emotions she had tried so hard to keep in check were threatening to drown her. She felt her throat tightening convulsively as tears formed in her eyes. She blinked them back, hunching away from him.

They returned in force a second later with a flood of grief and panic and uncertainty crashing over her at once and confusing her.

She sprang up and staggered away from the bed, keeping her back to him. She heard him stir behind her, concerned.

"I'm fine." She muttered quickly, forcing herself to turn and face him, fighting the urge to crawl back into bed with him, keeping her voice as steady as she could as she said, "I'm fine, I just, I was just thinking that, that I should probably be going now." Her voice was too high, and too casual and she was sure he wouldn't believe her but she could not back out now, "We don't want to get caught together, so, I'm just going to-"

"No."

She stared at him in surprise at his curt interruption.

"No." He said again, more softly this time, "Stay," he told her gently, adding a moment later, "If you don't want to get caught you'll have an easier time of it in the morning when the halls aren't crawling with people coming up to bed."

She almost bought it. Almost. His voice was steady and composed, his tone practical, believable. With his voice alone she would have done anything for him but his eyes gave him away. It was bullshit. All of it. And they both knew it. Neither of them gave a damn about getting caught by anyone here. They both wanted her to stay because neither of them could stand being alone tonight.

A shiver ran through her. She found herself nodding. Agreeing. It couldn't hurt. Surely it couldn't hurt. To finish what they had started. For this one night. This one night alone.

Her earlier reasoning deserted her. Or perhaps she found she just didn't care anymore. She still wanted to be with him...But her doubts still lingered for all of that. So too did her grief. It was still coursing through her body pulsing through her bloodstream with every beat of her heart. She wanted to be with him but not like this. Not in the state that she was rapidly heading towards.

She didn't want him to know how upset she was. She didn't' want him to be able to look into her eyes and see the vulnerability and insecurity that she hid so well from everyone but him.

And she couldn't let him see her cry. She could never let anyone see that.

But her body had turned against her and tears were threatening in her eyes once more. A hasty excuse sprang to desperate lips,

"Do you, do you mind if I use your shower?"

His eyes widened for a moment and he said nothing, prompting her to shrug and mutter pathetically, "habits."

He blinked once more then nodded. "Sure." He told her evenly, "Take your time."

He knew. Knew she was upset. Knew she needed time to herself to calm down a little. Knew all of it. But he wouldn't push her. He would never do that. Not when she was clearly uncomfortable talking about it. A part of her had almost expected that. He was a good agent. Of course he would notice. And she wasn't exactly herself tonight, he could hardly fail to spot that.

Still, another part of her almost hated him for it.

But mostly she hated herself, For making it so easy. For letting him in at all. For not walking away from him. For being unable to. For that part of her who knew how easy it was for him to see her, to really see her and wanted him all the more for that because no-one else ever could.

She turned away from him and locked herself in the bathroom. She hastily turned on the shower and slid down the wall, cradling her knees to her chest and praying that the sound of the water rushing against the tiles would muffle her faint cries as she let the tears that had been building up in her for weeks finally fall.

It was stupid, she thought, after how intimate they had just been, after what they had shared already that night that she couldn't bring herself to share her grief with him, that a part of her was afraid to let anyone see her cry. Even him. With whom she had shown more of herself to than anyone that night. Outside and in...

The reticence was a legacy from her mother, no doubt. But she had too much conspiring for the attention of her emotions already without letting that thought compete as well. She blocked it out and turned back to her sadness, to the tears that were beginning to stain her cheeks and rub her throat raw.

She wasn't exactly a stranger to funerals. In the job that she did they were difficult to avoid, but they rarely hit her as hard as this one had. He had been there during a part of her life where nothing had made sense but him. And even that only barely.

She had lost herself so many times and he had always pulled her back, rescued her from the stupid things that she had done after that op, saved her from herself when she had been at her worst. He had been her rock, her partner, and she had owed him a debt that she could now never repay because he was gone...

She picked herself up at that and forced herself into the shower. The water was scalding and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out and bringing Cho to check on her. She set it to a lower temperature and then began to turn slowly beneath the jet of water, her thoughts racing unpleasantly.

She dragged her fingers through her hair, trying to think what to do. It had rattled her when she had lost him. When she had gotten that call and found out he was dead. It had felt as though she had lost a little part of herself He had known her, her thoughts, her moods, almost before she knew them herself. He had grounded her. She would listen to him when she had gone deaf to everyone else. And now he was gone. And there was no-one left in her life like that.

A shiver ran through her, despite the heat of the shower and she felt alone.

Unless...

Her thoughts wandered back to Cho. She had told him about that op, things that she had never told anyone before. And she had been upset, yes...but she was still glad that she had told him. She didn't regret letting him, in, not really, didn't regret letting him help her. Even though she was hiding from him now...Perhaps that said more about her than it did about him.

They had gotten closer at work too, almost without her noticing. And she had told him. Maybe not all of it but she had told him...

She closed her eyes again, focussing on her breathing. She calmed herself down and finished up then, stepped out of the shower and dried off, cursing faintly when she realised that she had nothing to wear.

She tugged a bathrobe from the back of the door and shrugged it on. She wiped her eyes quietly and padded back outside, irritably puling the bathrobe over again as it slipped sideways a little.

"Here." He told her, handing her one of the t-shirts from his own bag, clearly having anticipated and countered this problem before she had.

"Thanks." She muttered, accepting it and not the ready excuse that it gave her to escape back to her room.

She tugged the t-shirt on along with a pair of underwear. It smelled like him and that made her smile a little as she noticed that. I t was also a little too big for her and hung loosely off of her but that was okay too.

"Are you alright?" he asked her flatly, watching her closely.

"Yeah." She lied, "Yeah I'm fine."

He hesitated and she knew that he didn't believe her but he nodded, not willing to try and force her to tell her anymore and invade her privacy, risking upsetting her further.

"Come on." He murmured softly.

His fingers curled gently around her waist. He body welcomed his touch and she let him lead her back to the bed. She slid under the covers first and he followed a moment later. The unspoken invitation and acceptance of this arrangement presented and agreed to in a second's look they shared.

They lay side by side, their bodies brushing against each other when they moved. Exhaustion suddenly settled over her and she felt herself reluctantly sinking in to an altogether too familiar nightmare.

She was forced to watch from above, as always, an empty puppet suspended on strings, useless, helpless. She couldn't help. She couldn't run. She couldn't fight. She could only watch.

She could feel the gun on her hip but she couldn't reach it. She couldn't even scream to warn him. Her voice had been stolen from her too.

Still she tried.

She struggled and twisted and fought against her bonds but they only cut into her wrists and ankles and body and sent a flurry of scarlet tears onto the scene below.

Because somehow, however much she fought and thrashed and even closed her eyes at the end. She always saw him push forwards ,challenge, protest. Bravery. Stupidity. She was never sure. But she always froze as the gun fired. As she was sure the bullet ripped through them both.

Only then was she allowed to go to him. Too late. Always too late. When she screams around him had long since faded to broken, haunted echoes of a tragedy that the world had already begun to forget.

But this time when she knelt beside him to tug him into her lap and give him what comfort she could as he did it was not him. Her stomach clenched painfully and she gasped his name in terror and grief,

"Kimball!"

She was awake again.

Panting. Drenched in cold sweat. Her hands clenched tightly around nothing. His name still on her lips. She hunched in on herself. Her throat closing over like a vice, making it almost impossible to breathe, her eyes stinging with terrified tears.

She could feel the heat from him beside her. The reassuring pressure of his body there. She could feel it rising up to press against her as he breathed. He was fine...He was fine. She was fine. But her heart was still pounding in her chest as though it was trying to escape, blood was still thundering in her ears and her body was still shaking with the effort of having to contain her silent crying.

She turned onto her side, away from him, her shoulders shaking, stuffing her fist into her mouth to muffle her cries, squeezing her eyes shut and curling in on herself.

Her whole body was shaking and tears were still flooding down her cheeks even as she fought to make them stop.

She felt his arms tenderly slide around her. Pulling her in close. He let his body slowly wrap around hers, enveloping her, trying to help her.

She flinched automatically at the contact, the insinuation, the pity. She tried to squirm away from him, struggling pathetically, her will to fight this any longer all but gone. But some instincts still lingered from childhood that made her reject him, made her withdraw from him and pull away. The walls that had been built so high for so long and had seemed so strong had crumbled before but now she scrambled to rebuild, to keep him out, to take care of herself.

She didn't want his help. She didn't need his help. And she couldn't let him think that she did. Her body was rigid, desperately trying to shut him out, her muscles hard and tense, closed off.

But he did not draw away from her. He persisted. His hold tender and intended to comfort, which it did if she would let him. She would not accept him, she couldn't, and choked thickly, "I'm fine."

He ignored her feeble protests, his thumb gently stroking her shoulder.

"I'm fine." She repeated stubbornly, her firm tone ruined by the tremble in her voice, "I'm fine. It was, it was just a nightmare." She pressed, almost telling herself now as much as him, "I'm fine." She tried again, but her words were lost in the strangled whisper that her voice had become. And she could feel herself melting in to his tender embrace once more.

His warmth was spreading through her numb, taut muscles and calming her down a little.

Though when she tried insisting once more, "I'm oaky, Kimball, I'm-" Her voice broke entirely and she shattered against him and he pulled her in close and held her tight, gently stroking her hair and murmuring to her.

She turned over in his arms until she was facing him, burrowing in to his chest and softly whispering his name and her thanks over and over again.

She could feel herself shaking still. But after that nightmare, only his arms around her, the rhythm of his chest rising and falling against her, the steady beat of his heart could have soothed her. And it did. He did.

She could feel the terror that had flooded her veins slowly draining from her. She could feel her body beginning to respond to him. Shifting slightly to fit a little better with him. She felt safe and content buried in his hold, surrounded by his warmth, finding safety in the darkness he provided that was lost in the suffocating dark that the room forced on her.

Once she felt herself settle a little she expected the gentle questioning, the push for answers, for an explanation, for him to try and press her into telling him something.

But it never came.

He just held her in his arms, murmuring softly to her whenever faint tremors shivered along her length, his hand now absently rubbing her back. She could feel her body relaxing again, slipping once more into exhaustion. Her eyes feebly failing to stay open. She found herself quietly drifting off once more. He gently soothed her and she felt herself sinking in to sleep once more with his name on her lips.