Episode tag to 2.4 "Cold Case," in which Jack and Sue continue to dance long after the music has ended and everyone else has left.
~0~
Jack straightened his jacket nervously as he walked up behind Sue—Sue Thomas, the most amazing, incredible woman he'd ever met, the woman who made his heart go wild in ways that his arrhythmia had nothing on. The woman he'd had a thing for since the day she mistakenly stormed into his office ready to read HR the riot act because the building map hadn't been updated.
Sue Thomas. The woman who had bought him as her date.
Did this mean—what did this mean? Was she trying to tell him—? Or was he only wishing that—?
Before he could reason himself out of it, he reached out to tap her shoulder.
He meant to only tap her shoulder. Somehow, despite the many times he'd gotten her attention with a simple tap or wave of his hand, tonight, faced with her in a sleeveless dress, he did not manage to stop himself from splaying his entire hand over the bare skin of her shoulder and resting it there.
Thankfully, when she turned in response and looked up expectantly to read what he wanted, the corners of her mouth turned up apparently involuntarily at the sight of him. That was a relief. If she'd appeared at all upset or uncomfortable at how he'd touched her, he might not have been able to maintain the necessary courage for what he'd come to say.
"Since you bought me, the least I could do is ask you to dance." He signed dance as he said it, always wanting to make an effort to reach into the world that was easier and more natural to her. She devoted so much energy and effort every day to simply exist in the hearing world, and yet the smallest efforts expended to connect in the opposite direction were rewarded with smiles as though she'd been presented with the dearest gift.
She bestowed such a smile on him now, whether at the request or the sign or both. Still, perhaps afraid he asked only to be polite and didn't really want to dance, she left him an out disguised as teasing banter. "I can't hear the music, remember? I could be dangerous out there."
He didn't want an out. He wanted her. He couldn't have her, but for tonight, he could at least have a dance. So he held out his hand and said, "I'll take my chances."
Her smile brightened even more, and she placed her hand in his, right where he felt it always belonged. He led her to the dance floor, their eyes only on each other the whole way.
And then they were there, in the one place where he could justifiably take the woman of his dreams into his arms and hold her close. Not as close as he would like, but closer than he was usually allowed. He slid a hand to her waist as she placed one on his shoulder, their opposite hands meeting, all perfectly synchronized as though they were designed for this. Puzzle pieces meant to click together. As though they could read one another perfectly.
They swayed to the music, turning slow circles as they rocked back and forth. Dancing had never been his strong suit so he couldn't lead her in anything fun or fancy, but her grace exuded here as everywhere. She followed each sway and step easily, almost anticipating where he would move and how, but never taking over the lead. They simply moved together.
She was beautiful. Her face inches from his, she was as beautiful as across the bullpen, as beautiful as in the interrogation room, as beautiful as at dinner together, as beautiful as under the stars or as under unflattering fluorescent streetlamps. It didn't seem possible for one person to make his heart feel like it would stop and like it would pump double-time all at once, no matter what she wore, where she was, or what she did.
He had to distract himself before he did something he shouldn't.
"For someone who ice skates, plays the piano, and sings, I figured dancing wouldn't be too hard," he said, returning to her earlier jest by way of a compliment.
"You know what they say," she replied easily and lightly. "Following is all about who's leading."
Dangit. She would always be able to outdo and undo him.
He wouldn't have her any other way.
After a pause, she asked, "Is Eleanor okay?"
Oh. Right. Eleanor. The woman who thought "blatant flirt" was a little too subtle a technique. Whatever her motivation had actually been, he would never be able to thank Sue enough for managing to buy him out of that woman's clutches.
"She'll get over it."
Sue nodded. "What did she say?"
"Well, she was a little embarrassed. She said she didn't know that you and I were an item."
Sue nodded again, but this time, if he wasn't mistaken, a hint of disappointment seemed to cross her face as she said, "She must have been relieved when you told her we weren't."
That little hint of disappointment at the thought that they weren't really—that's the only thing that gave him the courage to smirk, rather than look chagrined, as he admitted, "Well, I didn't exactly tell her that."
Sue's eyebrows raised, a flash of hope in her eyes. "What did you tell her?"
"I . . . sort of told her . . . that you and I were very close, and that the band was playing our song so I had to dance with you." He hoped he managed to smile confidently as he awaited her response to that, gazing into her eyes. After a beat in which she said nothing, he added, "I hope you're not mad at me."
"No." She left a slight lilt at the end, as though she was about to say more, but then she didn't. She was smiling. She truly wasn't mad. But that was all he knew. She wasn't mad because she understood him not wanting to be with someone like Eleanor? She wasn't mad because she wished there was more truth to that than there was?
But she gave him no more information. She only asked cheekily, "So what is this song of ours the band is playing?"
At least they were still on solid footing. He chuckled slightly as he leaned in a little (as though she needed him to speak softly—he could be across the dance floor and as long as she could see his lips she'd know what he was saying) and admitted ruefully, "I don't know."
She smiled at his self-deprecating amusement, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him—dare he call it adoringly? Or was that only the hope of his own heart?
A moment later, she started looking around the dance floor. His own gaze was only for her. She delighted in people-watching, he delighted in Sue-watching. She saw other couples on the floor dancing with joy, with love, cherishing one another, and her own face lit up with her joy at witnessing the joy of others. Jack's heart, if anything, was all the more enflamed by this woman before him for witnessing once again her heart for humanity.
Looking back to him, she said, "I like it."
He vowed to himself to find out the name of the song as soon as he was able.
Taking a chance, he wrapped his arm a little further around her back, gently pulling her closer to him. She stepped in willingly, their heads now side by side, their bodies only inches from each other. He breathed in her scent, her perfume mixed with whatever soaps and lotions and personal body chemistry it was that made up this glorious scent he'd come to recognize as Sue. He knew the scent, he'd been near her plenty, ridden side by side as they went to investigate leads, stood by her side as they spoke with potential witnesses, hugged her when she discovered the more painful side of FBI life.
He knew the scent, but never had he been able to just hold her, just breathe her in like this. He'd heard of people buying a specific perfume or soap or lotion just to smell because it smelled like the one they loved, but he couldn't understand that. He could get every single product she used daily and scientifically mix them in the exact right increments, and it still wouldn't smell like they smelled on Sue. She was the key that made it all perfect.
As he breathed her in, listening to the lovely piano music she couldn't hear, he got an idea. Backing up just enough so she could read his lips again, he released her hand while saying, "If you'll put that hand on my other shoulder, I'll show you our song."
"How?" she asked, even as she was placing her hand on his shoulder anyway.
With his now-freed left hand, he tapped just above her right elbow, saying, "Low," and then just below her right shoulder, saying, "High."
She smiled, realizing what he was doing. The music, while lovely, had a repetitive quality, so he waited for the beginning of a musical phrase, then started tapping the melody out on her arm, moving his fingers higher or lower for the range of the notes and changing the intervals between taps to match the lengths each note was held. The way she gazed at him, the way she smiled at him—he would do anything to keep that expression forever.
Unfortunately, the band didn't seem to know this plan of his, because they were clearly coming to the end of the song. He slowed their spinning and the way his fingers played along her arm at the same time. She looked at him quizzically.
"The song is almost done," he explained.
She thought a moment, biting her bottom lip as she so often did, then said coyly, "I didn't hear it ending."
He tilted his head, studying her, evaluating what she meant, and upon determining that she really did mean what he thought, he said, "Maybe you're right." As the band began their next song, Jack continued tapping out the rhythm to "their" song along her arm, using the repetitive phrases he'd learned and trying to maintain them despite what his ears were hearing. It wasn't easy tapping out one song while another played, but he thought he was maintaining it fairly well.
"Jack," she said softly after a few more moments of this, "this is . . . probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me."
"Not as sweet as buying my date so Eleanor couldn't," he said, only half-joking. Bolstered by the affection on her face, he dared to ask, "Sue, why, um . . . why did you . . . buy me?"
She blushed a little as she glanced away for a moment, chewing on her lower lip again. She did that so often—in thought, in nervousness, in embarrassment. The number of times he'd wished to rescue her lip and kiss it all better . . . .
"Um, I have a confession," she said, interrupting his thoughts to answer his question. "I . . . didn't." The pang of fear, of concern, of something else unsettled he couldn't quite name, that flashed through him at that only had a moment to wound before she rushed to add, "Not that I didn't want to! I, um . . . at first I wasn't sure if, if agents on the same team could since, uh, since technically teammates aren't supposed to date."
He smiled at that, especially at the implication of her having so thoroughly thought through that rule. "Yeah, things like charity events and galas usually get exceptions. A single date isn't the same thing as an established relationship."
"Yeah, that's what Lucy and Tara said."
He smiled. "You were talking about if you could vote on me?"
"I didn't say we were talking about you," she responded with a blush and a smirk that seemed rather to confirm that they were. "But anyway, I still thought maybe I shouldn't for . . . for other reasons."
"Why?"
She shrugged and said dismissively, "Oh, it was a moot point. With Eleanor's computer system set to outbid every vote on you within minutes, you were quickly far outside my price range anyway! But apparently, unbeknownst to me, to prevent you from being dragged away by Eleanor, Lucy and Tara pooled their money and waited for the very last second so her system wouldn't have time to kick in with a higher bid, and they bought you . . . for me . . . ."
She winced a little as she said that last part, though she couldn't help a tiny smirk too. Jack laughed.
"I see, so I wasn't a selection, but a gift."
"Something like that."
"Not one you intend to regift, I hope."
She laughed. "Never."
After a few more moments of gazing at each other, Jack asked, "So, um, what . . . What other reasons did you have for not, uh, wanting to bid on me?" He felt his face heat up as he said it, but he truly wanted to know.
She glanced away. "It doesn't matter."
"Hey," He said, leaning over a little to reclaim her line of vision. She turned her head back and he straightened again. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but things that concern you do matter. You matter. Your thoughts always matter to me."
She stared for a moment, searching his face, seeking his meaning, then took a deep breath. "Agents on the same team aren't supposed to date."
"Yeah, but like we said, for—" She lifted her hand from his shoulder—the one not being "played" on by his fingers—and placed her fingers on his lips. He couldn't resist bestowing a small kiss to them while they were there, which made her smile again.
"Teammates aren't supposed to be in an established relationship," she amended, "and one date for charity . . . couldn't be followed by more."
He felt his face soften even as his heart melted at her words. "I . . . had very similar thoughts," he admitted. "But I . . . I think I'd rather cherish every moment we can have than fear the ones we can't. At some point . . . maybe that will lead to knowing if . . . if we reach the point that we can be certain . . . ." He swallowed. He knew what he wanted to say but didn't want to sound too presumptuous. But he couldn't not say it at this point either. "I mean, maybe those moments could lead us to the point of being certain enough about . . . a future for us . . . to know it would be worth making big decisions about changes within our careers or . . . or whatever sacrifices might be required. I mean, I've always . . . always believed that you . . . that we . . . would be worth it. I just . . . ."
"It's a big risk to take," she filled in, showing that she agreed and wasn't offended by his wording.
He nodded. "But . . . we have moments. A lot of moments, a lot of time together . . . getting to know one another. And I think when—if—we ever choose to . . . change the nature of our relationship, we might, um . . . well, we might be starting in a particularly good place for already being so close."
"And already having our own song," she responded, and while her words were teasing, her eyes were misty.
After another moment, she whispered, "Keep the song going," while pulling nearer to him, sliding her hands from his shoulders to behind his neck. He happily adjusted his arm around her waist to hold her closer, as close as he could possibly appropriately do without either embarrassing everyone around them or tripping themselves, while continuing to "play" the song with his other hand. She laid her head on his shoulder and he thought he could never be happier in his life.
Until she began to whisper to him.
"For as long as you keep tapping it on my arm, our song will never end. I don't want our song to end."
Me either, he wanted to tell her, but she couldn't see his mouth from her current position. She seemed to know he wanted to speak, but she didn't move to see him. She continued to whisper.
"If the song ends, we have to let go. We have to go back to the real world. With rules and regulations about agents on the same team. I don't want to do that, Jack. I just want to stay here in your arms."
I just want you here in my arms. Forever.
She sighed contentedly and snuggled against him.
The song changed again. Jack still did not change the rhythm of his fingers dancing on her arm. Couples left the dance floor. Others joined it. Jack and Sue did not leave.
There was nothing to interrupt the remainder of the evening, no scheduled time for everyone to stay until. The charity had already been presented, the meal had been completed, the bachelors had been auctioned, all announcements had been made. People stayed for a while, but eventually the party began to wind down.
Bobby and Darcy left.
Myles left.
There were only three other couples still on the dance floor with Jack and Sue.
Even Tara and Lucy, eventually, had enough of watching Jack and Sue dance. As Lucy approached them, two other couples left the floor as well.
Jack saw the awe on Lucy's face as she approached. He knew what she was reacting to—Sue's face was buried in his neck, cutting off her vision to the rest of the room. The amount of trust she was placing in him was not lost on him. She hated having her vision cut off, since it meant her awareness of her surroundings was reduced to only smell and feel. Right now, she was willingly and apparently happily placing herself in an awareness only of him, only able to feel and smell him and unable to see anything going on around them.
"Jack," Lucy said gently. He gave a slight reverse nod to let Lucy know he'd seen her and was listening. "There's no prize for being the last couple standing," she teased.
"She doesn't want the song to end," he replied simply, still swaying and spinning, although in smaller movements than when they'd first entered the dance floor.
"Could you get her for me please?"
"She doesn't want to look around. She doesn't want to know the song has ended."
Lucy stood looking helpless for a moment, looking like she needed him to understand something but she herself didn't entirely know what. "Jack—the banquet's ending. Most people have left. Levi needs to go out, and then get home and get his dinner. At some point the song has to end."
"I know," he said sadly. "But not yet. You take care of Levi, I'll get her home."
From the expression on her face, he could only assume that she was putting supreme effort into not awwwwing out loud, but she only said, "Okay, thanks. And Jackson—take good care of her."
"Always," he replied, before burying his face back into Sue's hair. He resumed his slow circles with Sue and realized that while he'd been speaking to Lucy, the other remaining couple had left. They were alone on the floor. Almost alone in the building—other than event staff cleaning up, there was only a handful of people remaining, and they were all gathering their things or already heading for the door.
Lucy and Tara left with Levi, the women having all gotten ready at Lucy and Sue's place and carpooled from there.
The band stopped playing. "Sorry, buddy," the piano player said. "We really gotta call it a night."
Jack only tilted a nod of gratitude to them and said, "Don't worry. We have our own music."
They gave him a funny look but he didn't care to explain. He continued to dance with the woman he loved, as his fingers continued to dance their song up and down her arm.
"Oh!" he called out just as they were about to head out the door. "What was the song you were playing around, um, 8:30?"
The violinist, who appeared to be either in charge or simply the most organized, quickly flipped open a notebook with a lineup. "Not precisely sure, there are a couple it could've been, you remember the tune?"
Jack hummed a little of the melody.
They all nodded in recognition and one spoke up with the name.
It was perfect. "Thank you. Very much."
The band cleared out. The final event staff and facility employees were finishing the final cleanup. Jack slowly danced Sue over to gather her wrap and purse, knowing the song must come to an end, but unwilling to let this be their final moment.
When they got there, he gently slid his hand up her arm, into her hair, and nudged her head, encouraging her to lift her head. She shook it no. He nudged her again, shifting his shoulder a little at the same time to indicate she needed to.
When she lifted her head, she had a tear starting its way down her cheek. "I don't want the song to end," she said again, soulful eyes pouring into his.
"Me either," he replied, still swaying with her, catching her tear with his thumb. "But I needed your face up here."
"Why?"
"Because as much as I love you snuggled into my shoulder, while your head was there I couldn't do this," he said, then leaned in slowly, almost reverently, to kiss her.
There were no sparks, no fireworks, no exploding stars. There didn't need to be. There was just the comfort of coming home, of being exactly where they were always meant to be. Never had a first kiss managed to be so excitingly new and yet still so completely familiar.
When they separated, he said, "I don't want our song to ever end, Sue. I want to hold you like this every day for the rest of our lives."
"Me too," she said sadly. "But policy—"
"Policy can't decide who we love," he responded. "I—I remember one time, someone told me that when you hug someone for a long time, it's like letting your hearts have a chance to speak to one another. I don't know how true that could be, but after our hearts have been so close together all night, I finally feel like they're on the same page, like they understand each other. So unless I'm entirely mistaken about what you and I both want . . . I'll talk to Garrett Monday. I'll transfer teams if I have to. I don't care. The only way I won't be with you is if you don't want me to, and even then, I still couldn't stop loving you. I can't—I won't—go back to pretending."
She tipped her head to one side, regarding him carefully as he spoke. "You love me?" she finally asked.
He swallowed hard, but nodded. It was the truth, and no matter what came of admitting it, he meant it when he said he wasn't going to pretend anymore. "For a long time now."
She took a deep, relieved breath and said, "Oh good. Because I love you too."
After another long, lingering kiss, they gathered their things and, hand in hand, headed to Jack's car (much to the relief of the last employee who was finishing their final task and then was about to have the unpleasant task of kicking them out if they hadn't left first).
He drove her home, as he'd promised Lucy. After so much time dancing, however slowly they'd done so, they were both very sore and very tired. He left her to change into her pajamas but made her promise she'd open the door once she was ready so he could tuck her in before he left.
When she did, he treated her to a shoulder rub, a foot rub, and a neck rub, helping ease the soreness that had built up from their several-hours-long song. After really and truly tucking her into her bed, and giving her one more kiss goodnight, he left with the promise that he would return in the morning and they could spend their entire Sunday together.
~0~
It was two weeks later when he arrived at her apartment for a dinner in, carrying a dozen roses in a glass vase, and a large but thin staple-bound book that was half-wrapped around the vase. She smiled her gratitude and gave him a sweet kiss in greeting, as though they hadn't just parted only an hour earlier when they'd left work—work, where they had amazingly been granted permission to remain on the same team, under certain stipulations for both professionalism and team safety. But when she reached to accept the flowers, he pulled them back, saying, "Ah ah ah! Not in here."
Instead, he led her out of the foyer and into the living room, where he placed the roses on top of the piano, opened the book to reveal sheet music inside, propped it up on the stand, and gestured for her to sit on the bench, saying, "Do you think you can play this?"
She sat down with a curious glance toward her boyfriend, before turning to study the music itself for a moment. After partly familiarizing herself with it by sight, she began playing.
As she played, he slid onto the bench beside her, caressed her shoulder and down her arm with one hand, and then, on her arm, he began to tap out the notes she was playing.
She gasped as she recognized the rhythm and motions, and realized how it matched what her fingers were playing. "Jack!" she gasped, spinning toward him and flinging her arms around him, almost knocking him off the edge of the bench as she kissed him deeply.
After they both recovered a proper center of balance and (eventually) broke their kiss, she asked, "How did you find it?"
"When the band was packing up and leaving, I asked them what it had been called. Couldn't find it in the music store I went to so they ordered it for me. It just got in today."
"What is it called anyway?" she asked, turning to flip the cover forward.
She didn't know whether to laugh or cry happy tears when she saw the title.
Making Our Own Music
Instead of either, she leaned on the shoulder of the man she loved and said softly, "It's perfect."
~0~
AN: I debated long and hard over the name of the song. In the actual episode, they're just dancing to some generic, probably open license music, so I decided to make up my own name for it. It was down to this title, or "Our Song," but I was afraid that, A., that was a little too on the nose, and B., people might think it meant the Taylor Swift song, which didn't even come out until a few years after this episode and definitely is not what they were dancing to anyway. What do you think? Right choice? Wrong choice? My thanks to RoyalDome2008 for letting me bounce title ideas back and forth and helping me consider options!