Title: You're a Good Man (3/10)
Pairing: Jake/Beck
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Overall Rating: NC-17 (it will get there)
Warnings: Some bad words
Disclaimer:  Jericho's not mine.  Read on and you'll find out why.
Spoilers: "Sedition" (2x06)
Chapter Summary: Beck returns to call Jake on his lie, and Jake finds himself slipping.
A/N: This chapter's pretty small.  It's a teeny part but it represents a pretty big shift.  In other words, it's not much but it needed to be there for things to start progressing.  From here on out, I will be delivering one chapter per month.  That's basically all my crazy schedule can handle and so I apologize for the waiting in between.  On that note, lots of love and great thanks to all the readers devoted to this story, because really, you guys give me a reason to keep writing.  *Sends you all heaps of love and gratitude*  Comments are love, but you lovely people already know that.  :)



Part 3

The bright lights buzzed. The air was so dry it nearly choked me.

Beck still hadn’t come back.

 * * *

My head hurt.

Where the hell was Beck? What was taking so long? I shut my eyes tighter, trying to block out the light. It was still too hot.

Hold on now, I thought I heard a voice say. It was calm, comforting.

I heard the locks turn and my heart sped up. So did the pounding in my head.

Don’t you worry, the voice said. You’ll be fine.

The door slammed open.

I could only make out blurry shapes at first. The lights had been turned off suddenly and my eyes weren’t adjusting. I was hauled to my feet and dropped hard on a chair. Damn it. My ass was bruised enough from sitting on cement for so long.

Beck stopped a few feet in front of me. I didn’t bother to look at him.

"That address you gave?" Beck asked shortly. "It didn’t lead us to the Rangers."

I started coughing and almost couldn’t stop. He waited in silence while I got it under control.

"What we did find was a band of fugitives from Newburn."

Was that good? It was getting too hard to think. I could hear something in Beck’s voice, just under the surface. Anger. He was really pissed at me.

Yeah, well, the feeling was mutual.

"Those were wanted men," Beck went on. I glanced at him. "We’ve been searching for them for weeks."

"I’d ask how you knew their location," he said quietly. "But I think I already know. Your vendetta against New Bern? You never put it to rest, and despite my warnings, you were going to play vigilante. And let me tell you, Jake." He bristled, voice turning into a growl. "It is not helping your situation."

"Why not?" I forced out. My voice was strained, hoarse. "I gave you what you wanted. A gang of criminals."

Beck actually looked away for a moment, like he was collecting himself. He turned back, leaning down so his face was a foot from mine. "You lied to me."

"And what did you expect?" I asked derisively. "That I’d just give them up?"

"Your friends broke the law."

"They’re good people," I insisted.

"And they have to pay for their crimes," Beck replied.

"According to who?" I asked. For fuck’s sake, Beck, open your eyes. "Some group who just decided that they should lead? Those people weren’t elected."

"Even under the old government, your friends’ actions were considered crimes," Beck said, unimpressed.

I snorted. "You have an answer for everything?" I asked dryly.

Beck ignored that and continued. "I warned you: if you lied to me there would be repercussions for the people of Jericho."

I wanted to argue but I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept in… No idea. Days, probably. It was better for me to stay calm, except Beck thought he was winning and that pissed me off.

Easy now, the voice said soothingly. Pick your battles. Save your strength for the bigger ones—you’re gonna need it.

I closed my eyes, tried to concentrate. What do I do?

Make him feel what you’re feeling, the voice said slowly. He’s human, too, you know. Appeal to what he knows. Go for his heart.

"You have family?" I asked, eyes opening. The words came out mumbled.

"What?" Beck asked sharply.

He hadn’t expected that. Hell, I hadn’t either. I was running on impulse, something I was pretty good at.

"Do you have a family?" I repeated, forcing each word out.

Beck didn’t miss a beat. "This isn’t about me, Jake. It’s about you."

Somehow I kept up with him, didn’t hesitate. "If these were your friends—your family—would you turn them in?" His face gave nothing away. "I would," he replied coolly. "You would give up your family?" I asked unbelievingly.

"If it was the right thing to do," Beck answered with no hesitation.

He was lying.

"That’s bull and you know it," I argued. "You would do the same thing in my position, Major or not."

He watched me. The poker face was back but I could tell I’d hit a nerve.

"There are other ways to make you talk," Beck replied, almost conversationally.

"Then why haven’t you used them?" I asked, just daring him.

You shouldn’t bait a man like that, the voice cautioned.

He studied me for a long moment, the heat in his eyes intense. I waited.

"Because," he said quietly, "I’m not that kind of man, Jake." He leaned in, his breath brushing against my face. I stared at him. He was so close that I felt myself tense up, waiting. "Believe it or not," he murmured, and I could have sworn his eyes swept to my lips for a second, "we are on the same side."

He straightened.

"I’ll let you think about what you’ve done," he said.

He turned to leave.

I tried to think. Had to stop him from leaving.

"Wait!" I called.

Beck turned. "You think I don’t know what this is, Jake?" he demanded. I blinked. "What?" He walked back over, glared at me. When he spoke again his voice was dangerously low. "I think you don’t want to be alone." He saw my blank look and went on, "It’s a funny thing, what you learn out there in the line of fire. It’s not the lights, or the hunger or the thirst that’ll break a man. It’s the loneliness. When a man doesn’t have anyone to talk to, he’s forced to think and reflect on everything he’s done."

I stared at him.

He leaned down and whispered, "I don’t think you want to remember."

I could only blink. I had no idea what the hell to say.

He left after that, leaving me alone with the bright lights and my thoughts. About Cheyenne. About Beck, and Bonnie, and Stanley and Goetz. And about Iraq.

Beck was right. I didn’t want to remember.



....tbc....

Title: "You're a Good Man" (2/10)
Pairing: Jake/Beck
Chapter Rating: PG-13 (for some bad words)
Overall Rating: NC-17
Warnings: This is a male/male pairing.  IT'S SLASH, PEOPLE.  If you don't like the idea or it makes you uncomfortable, evade it like the plague.
Disclaimer: I do not own Jericho, its characters, or any of its subsidiary rights.  Seriously.
Spoilers: "Sedition" (2x06).
Chapter Summary: Jake puts his plan into action and takes a huge risk.  Beck reacts.
A/N: This bloody chapter nearly killed me.  At this rate I'll be dead within the week.  I apologize for the incredible delay.  Again, many lovely and skippy-loo thanks to the rockin' 

evan_nicholas

Part Two

             One of the things my dad taught me was that plans take time.  They need to be carried out carefully.  And they’re never easy.  So many things can go wrong because people will surprise you.

            And most importantly, for a plan like this one to work, I needed to follow through.

            So obviously nothing happened like it was supposed to.

            Beck returned, like he’d promised, but it could have been two or three days for all I knew.  I was drained, my eyes sore from the bright lights.  When the door burst open and I vaguely recognized Beck’s voice saying, “Get him up,” all I could do was blink and try to see through blurred eyes.

            I was still out of it when they yanked me to my feet and sat me down on a wooden crate.  Beck stood off to my right, but I didn’t look at him.  If I did I’d end up saying a lot of things that I’d regret later.  It was hard to focus on Beck’s words at first, but I got the gist: he was angry because Eric and the others were breaking his rules.

            Beck held out a clipboard with a paper attached to it and told me to sign.

            I didn’t say anything.  The easiest way to get by was to keep my mouth shut.  I wasn’t going to say anything.  Let him rake me over the coals for making the wrong choice.  Eric and the others wouldn’t stop trying to get me out just because I sent them Beck’s paper.

            I hadn’t dealt with hunger in a long while.  It made me think of Iraq and, when I shoved that thought away, I remembered the chaos after the bombs.  Part of my brain had shut down and most of what Beck was saying was white noise.  I caught something about him not tolerating their rebellious behavior and I couldn’t help but smile.

            “They’re putting their lives in danger out of loyalty to you.  Is that really what you want?” Beck asked.

            I didn’t acknowledge him or his clipboard, just tried not to sway too much or fall off the crate.  It was surprisingly easy to ignore what he was saying.  I was too worn out to care.

            Beck’s tone changed suddenly.  His voice grew soft, gentler. He lowered himself to my height, squatting next to me.  I tried looking at him but it was hard to focus.

            "We both know where it goes from here, Jake," he said.  He was being reasonable again, sympathetic.  I tried not to listen.  This was just another tactic to Beck, one more way to make me spill the information he needed. "End it right now."

            Don’t start again, Beck. I can’t do this and you know it.

            I looked at him then, or tried to, squinting through sore eyes.

            Beck caught my gaze and held it.

            "Agree to sign this letter."

            And so help me, just for one moment, I considered it. It was a small thing. Beck wouldn’t let me go no matter what they did.  If they kept on fighting him, Beck would go after them too.

            And he was right about one thing: I didn’t want them risking their necks for me.

            I shut my eyes and tried to focus.

            “Tell me Stanley’s location.”

            I looked at Beck then, really looked at him.  I’d been dead on my feet but all of a sudden I reconnected.  The anger crashed over me like a tidal wave.

            I spat on the clipboard.  Beck’s expression didn’t change.

            He stood.

            “The offer of amnesty in exchange for Stanley Richmond is rescinded,” Beck said, and his voice was cold.  I was torn between kicking myself and yelling at Beck, but he spoke again before I could do either.  “The rangers are now considered fugitives.”  He looked to his men, and I glared at him.  “I want all of them.”

            Beck headed out.  Fuck.  This was too much.

            “Good luck finding them,” I snarled.

            Beck stopped and met my gaze easily.  He didn’t miss a beat as he went on, “Until they’re produced, I’m declaring Jericho to be an open insurrection.”

            Damn it, Beck!

            “Lights, power, food supplies,” Beck said, just daring me with a look to say something.  “Nine p.m. tonight—I’m shutting it all down.”

            “We’ve lived without that stuff before, we can do it again,” I shot back.

            Beck moved close and his voice went dangerously low as he bristled.  “You really want to test me?  You wanna see how far I’ll take it?”

            I gave him a look that I was pretty sure could kill.  But this—what had just happened—that was my fault.  I had no control.  The moment Beck had walked in I’d felt the white-hot anger.  It was so familiar, so comforting that I’d given in without thinking. I was like an angry teenager who had to have the last word, and screw the consequences.  Dad would have been disappointed.

            Beck leaned down close, his face barely a foot from mine.  I felt his warm breath on my face.  “Whatever happens, from here on out,” he whispered, and I couldn’t look away.  “Never forget—you caused it.”

            He left with those words ringing in my ears.

*          *          *

            A few hours passed, slowly under the hot lights, before I finally decided to stop feeling sorry for myself.

            Yes, I was hot and dizzy and thirsty, but I was still all right.  And if I forced myself to focus I could figure out how to patch things up with Beck.  The sooner I regained his trust, the sooner I could…

            What can you do?  I could hear my dad’s voice say.  He’s a soldier; he’s not going to leave Cheyenne without proof.

            Well, then I’ll give him proof, I answered.

            I could see my dad shaking his head, not happy with that.  Kissing up to a man is not proof, son.  You’ll need papers, video footage, fingerprints—hard evidence that’ll convict Cheyenne and put to rest every shadow of doubt in the Major’s mind.

            And how do I get that? I asked.  I’m tied up in a basement.  I can’t just call Hawkins and tell him to bring proof.

            That would annoy him.  Don’t rely so much on Hawkins…Beck would never trust him anyway.  You’re the only one who’s got a shot at this.

            I shook my head.

            Beck will do what he thinks is right.  It doesn’t matter what I say.

            Stop being such a pessimist.  Yeah, Major Beck will do what he thinks is right—so you make darn sure he knows what’s right.  Things are only gonna get rougher from here on out, and you need to follow through despite what may happen.

            It’s not easy, I shot back.

            Of course it’s not.  He’s going to taunt you, humiliate you, and break you down any way he can.  And you’re gonna get angry about it.  Now buck up and deal with it.

            I opened my eyes.

            I had to make Beck listen, and then maybe I could right the wrongs I’d done to Jericho.  For now, I had to swallow my pride and execute my plan one step at a time.  One sentence at a time, if I had to.

            As the moments inched by, I thought about my plan.  Beck and I had flirted a little before, I was sure of it.  Little things here and there, the occasional indulgent look, unexpected smirks, brushing up against each other a little too often.  And before Hawkins had involved me in his plan to take down Cheyenne, before I’d started to work behind Beck’s back, things had gone well.  We’d connected on some weird level, and the two of us striding through town, me with my gold star and him with his army uniform, had both had the same goal in mind: peace in Jericho.

            But Beck saw right through me; saw all my faults and called me on them.  Somehow he kept me from killing Constantino, simply by putting his faith in me.  I’d disappointed people all my life but I didn’t want to let Beck down.  He was giving me a chance to start over; the world was beginning again, so why not me?

            Except I’d failed at that like I failed at so many other things.  Before I even knew it, I had turned into an insurgent, revolting against Cheyenne, and then Ravenwood came…

            I couldn’t start over.  The past always came back.  I doubt Beck had any idea who I had been when he asked me to be sheriff.  Who I was.

            This isn’t about you, Jake.  This is about something much bigger.

            All of a sudden the lights shut off.  I opened my eyes slowly.

            This is for the greater good.

            When the sounds of keys jingling reached my ears and the door opened, I steeled myself.

            Here goes nothing.

*          *          *

            Beck’s men picked me up and dragged me over to a chair.  I bit my tongue to keep quiet when one of the soldiers almost pulled my arm out of its socket.  Beck watched me and I could feel him assessing me, seeing how far he’d broken me.  I slumped a little more in the chair and let my exhaustion show.  Make him think I was more beat than I was.

            “Have you changed your mind?” he asked quietly.

            I didn’t answer.

            Beck walked over to me and I winced; but all he was holding was a glass.  He held it out to me.  I stared at him.

            He was offering me a drink.

            After a few seconds of me staring at the glass, Beck added, “It’s not poisoned.”

            I figured it was safe enough for me to open my mouth now.  “Come on, you wouldn’t tell me if it was.”

            It was banter, almost playful.  Beck raised an eyebrow just slightly.

            I watched as Beck tried to figure out what I was doing.  Apparently nothing set off any alarms, because the suspicion was gone the next minute.

            This might work after all.

            “Either drink it, or don’t,” Beck said simply, gesturing to the glass.  He looked at me, waiting.  “Last chance.”

            I nodded.  He put the glass to my lips and I opened them, letting the water fill my mouth.  My eyes closed in appreciation.  God, it felt good

            I opened my eyes, still drinking, and caught Beck’s gaze.  He watched me intently, dark eyes never leaving mine.  Just for a second I could’ve sworn his gaze flicked to my throat as I swallowed.  Suddenly, it was a lot hotter in the room.  I gulped down too much and nearly choked.

            The minute I broke eye contact he took the glass away.  I licked my lips, wetting them, and Beck watched me.  I felt heat flare up in my cheeks, and I looked away from his intense gaze.  It was a good thing the blush could be chalked up to the hot lights.

            “You never answered my question,” Beck said, breaking the silence.

            I cleared my throat, and then regretted because it was raspy as hell.

            Don’t think about the pain.  Focus on Beck.

            Rather than a flat-out denial, I countered with, “You think it’s easy, being asked to give up your friends?”

            Beck leaned down in front of me.  He replied evenly, “I’m not asking.”

            “Yeah, I noticed,” I said darkly.

            “Stop evading the question, Jake.”  I looked up at him, just a few feet away.  “Are you going to make this difficult?”

            “No,” I said, and I think the answer surprised Beck.  He didn’t really let it show, but something flickered in his eyes.  He’d been expecting retorts and angry comebacks; not this.  Apparently Beck didn’t know me as well as he thought.

            He straightened.  “Then you’ve reconsidered?”

            I shook my head slightly.  “You haven’t exactly given me incentive to help you.”

            “No?” Beck asked, not amused.  “Let me tell you something—I can keep you here as long as I need to.  Now, depending on your cooperation, you could be released months from now, or this very day.”

            I stared at Beck.  “Or I could die here.”

            Beck gave a small nod, like I’d given a good answer.  “Exactly.  It’s up to you.”

            I laughed all of sudden, quietly.  I had no idea why; there was nothing funny about this.

            “You want to share the joke?” Beck asked.

            I shook my head.  “Not a joke,” I said, catching my breath.  I lifted my head to look at Beck.  “But it’s a good way to lay the blame on me.”

            “Excuse me?” Beck asked, his voice very low.  I was pissing him off now.  I needed to back off, but I couldn’t—not before I finished.  This had to be done.

            “You’re torturing me, Beck,” I said, using his name and not breaking eye contact.  It wasn’t easy, but I kept staring into those dark eyes.  “And you make it sound like I’m doing this to myself.  Is that how you live with yourself?”

            I hit a nerve.  I’d pushed him too far and I swear I saw murder in his eyes.  Some kind of dark pride swelled in me, but it was squashed the next minute.

            “If that’s the game you want to play, that’s fine,” Beck said, turning to leave.  “I’ll return in a few days.”

            “No, wait!” I blurted out.  Beck kept on walking like he hadn’t heard me.  Shit.  “Please!”

            He stopped, glanced back over his shoulder.

            “Please, just…” I tried to catch my breath; the headache had returned with a vengeance.  Begging.  I was actually begging Beck to stay.  “Just…give me a minute.”

            Beck finally turned back to me.  He walked over and squatted about a foot away.  I held my breath and tried to ignore the thud of my heart in my head as Beck peered at my face.

            “Are you saying you’re willing to give them up?” Beck asked.

            I hesitated, just long enough to convince him that, yes, that’s what I was going to do.  “What if I did?” I asked dully.  He was so close now, within kissing distance, looking up at me.  “What would you do?”

            “I would bring your friends in to be processed,” Beck said.  “Assuming they don’t resist arrest.”

            I bit my lip.  I was taking a risk doing this, and it might blow up in my face.

            “And if they do?  Resist arrest?” I asked.  I already knew the answer.

            Beck gave me his patented poker face.

            I shook my head.  “I can’t take the chance that you’ll kill them,” I said, looking away.  God, my head hurt.

            “This isn’t a negotiation,” Beck replied immediately.

            I turned my head away, squeezing my eyes shut against the thudding pain.

            I felt a warm weight on my knee.  I opened my eyes and looked at Beck.  His hand was on my knee.  When he saw he had my attention he took his hand away again.

            “Your friends have a much better chance now than they will later, when they’ve committed more crimes.”  Beck leaned in a little closer, imploring with his gaze.  “Every day that passes they’re considered more dangerous.  At some point somebody else is going to be sent in to take care of the problem.  And you can be sure they won’t be as understanding as me.”

            I ignored the part of me that knew he was right.

            “Tell me where they are, and I’ll do my best to bring them in alive,” Beck said.

            I blinked at him.  He was telling the truth.  Don’t ask me how I knew, I just did.

            “I know you will,” I said, meeting his gaze.

            Beck waited.

            I let out a breath.  “You’ll let me go?”

            “Yes.”

            “And what about Eric?” I asked, covering all my bases.  This wouldn’t convince Beck if it stopped short of the real thing.  He had to believe I was really giving them up, and he wouldn’t buy it if I didn’t try to negotiate for family and friends.

            Beck answered simply.  “No.”

            “W-What did he do?”

            “He was involved in the capture of a caravan of supply trucks to Jericho.”

            So that was what they’d done to get Beck riled up the other day.  I almost smiled.  Good old Eric.

            I looked at Beck.  “Well, can’t you just…let him walk?”

            “You know I can’t do that, Jake.”

            That was it, then.  Beck was really sticking to his guns; not that I had expected any less.  But it certainly didn’t look good for my plan.

            “Then I can’t,” I said quietly.

            “Either I catch him, or someone else does,” Beck responded, the voice of reason.  “Letting you brother go is not an option.”

            I shook my head.  “I can’t do this,” I whispered, hanging my head.  I rested a moment, letting the silence build before I took the next step.  Beck was still watching me when I lifted my head.  When I spoke, it was quietly, ashamed.  “Not in front of them.”  I nodded at his men.

            Beck didn’t miss a beat.  “Give us five minutes,” he ordered, never taking his eyes off me.  His men hesitated only a second before they walked out of the room.

            The door shut behind them.

            Beck and I stared at each other in silence.

            “Give me their location,” he said softly.

            I bit my lower lip and turned my head away.  Beck stood.

            “There’s no reason to drag this out any further, Jake,” he said, and I could hear he was losing patience.  “Give me the location.”

            I closed my eyes, kept my head turned away.

            Beck grabbed my chin in his fingers and yanked, turning my face to him.  His thumb rested near the corner of my mouth.  His eyes were practically smoldering as he glared at me.

            He observed me in the silence.  He spoke very quietly, just two words.  “Tell me.”

            I stared back at him.  There were no sounds except for my breathing getting heavier.  My lips parted and my breath came out harsh.

            I shut down my brain, whirring a mile a minute.  I turned my head, just enough so my lips brushed over Beck’s thumb.

            Beck pulled back quickly.

            I froze a moment, not sure what he’d do.  I expected something to prove I was wrong, that I’d made it all up.

            When I looked, Beck was standing very still.  I watched his expression for any signs of disgust, but no, all I saw was the poker face again.  And he was watching me very closely.  I’d caught him off guard.

            I let out the breath I’d been holding.

            “You give me your word?” I asked, letting my voice shake a little.  I was feeling very weak, and it wasn’t the hunger or dehydration.  “You’ll try not to hurt them.”

            Beck was watching me very closely, and answered without hesitation, “You have my word.”

            He was going to kill me when he figured out what I was doing, but this had to happen if I wanted to regain his trust.  He had promised to try to bring them in unharmed and that reminded me that he was a good man.  He was torturing me, yeah, but I was living in a glass house on a cracked foundation.

            “193 Blackberry Road,” I said.  “It’s a vegetable farm just outside town.  Kill the engines about a mile away or they’ll hear you coming.”

            His eyes narrowed just slightly.  He was trying to gauge whether I was lying or not.  I stayed still and hoped I was a better liar than I used to be.

            He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he nodded.  “Thank you, Jake.”

            I closed my eyes and hung my head.  This was about as close to betrayal as I would ever get—I hoped.

            “When we have checked out the area and secured the fugitives, you’ll be set free.”

            I waited.

            “And if you’re lying…”

            I looked up to see him glaring down at me.

            “…then the people of Jericho will deal with the repercussions.”

            I closed my eyes again, heart pounding at the threat.  I kept them closed even after I heard him leave and lock the door behind him.

            And when the bright lights kicked back on, I tried not to think about how I’d just tightened the noose around Jericho.

....tbc....

Title: "You're a Good Man" (1/10)
Pairing: Jake/Beck
Chapter Rating: PG-13 (for some cursing)
Overall Rating: NC-17
Warnings: This is a male/male pairing.  IT'S SLASH, PEOPLE.  If you don't like the idea or it makes you uncomfortable, evade it like the plague.
Disclaimer: I do not own Jericho, its characters, or any of its subsidiary rights.  Seriously.
Spoilers: "Reconstruction" (2x01), "Termination for Cause" (2x05), and "Sedition" (2x06).
Chapter Summary: After Jake is imprisoned and being tortured by Beck, he is forced to think up a plan that will help him escape. This leads to an interesting revelation that has been right in front of his eyes the whole time.  Takes place during the events of "Sedition."
A/N: Oh, man, where do I start?  A tremendous THANK YOU to my awesome beta-reader, 

evan_nicholas

Part One

            The bag was yanked off my head and I blinked at the sudden light.  My eyes stung for a moment.  I tried to move my hands, but they were tied tightly behind me with rope that was damn near cutting off my circulation.

            It took a moment before I could see Beck pacing in front of me.  He saw me looking at him and grabbed a chair, straddling it so his knees practically touched mine.

            He just stared at me.  I glared back.

             Finally I couldn’t take it anymore.  I was pretty damn pissed off as it was.  I’d gone to Beck, and he’d thrown a bag over my head, tied me up, and dragged me off to who knows where.  After I’d willingly given myself up.

            I forced out, “You got me.  What more do you want?”

            I kept most of the anger out of my voice.  Who said the end of the world can’t change people for the better?  And anyway, I couldn’t afford to piss Beck off now.

            His expression didn’t change as he replied, voice low with just a hint of a threat in it, “The truth would be a good start.”

            “I killed Goetz.”  The lie poured out of my mouth, a line rehearsed a hundred times in my head.

            “You’re lying,” Beck replied immediately.  His voice went lower.  He was bristling.

            “No,” I said heatedly.  “He was my problem.”

            I’d barely finished talking before Beck started up again.  “I know that you and the Rangers had a shootout with Ravenwood, killing several men in self-defense.”

            My jaw locked.  What?   How did he know?

            “I know that you subdued and disarmed Goetz.”  Beck looked at me like he could see right through me.  I turned my head, trying to keep my expression from giving any more away.  “I know that you attempted to arrest him.  And I know that Stanley Richmond then killed him.”

            I wasn’t sure what Beck wanted from me, but it was too late to play ignorant.  Instead, I raised my head and ground out, “Where are you getting all this?”

            He held his silence for a moment before he answered, “I have a reliable source.”  Beck’s expression didn’t change, but I caught a flicker of grim triumph in his eyes, in his voice.

            Well, that was great.

            I avoided Beck’s gaze.  I’d never seen this side of him before and it was scaring the hell out of me.  I didn’t want to look at him.

            What a fine specimen of Green I’d turned out to be.  I could just hear my dad saying, You can charge headlong into gunfire but you can’t look your enemy in the eye?

            …Was Beck the enemy?  So he had a reliable source; that didn’t mean much.  He didn’t understand the circumstances that had led to this…this mess.  And he was reasonable; a lot more reasonable than some people I’d dealt with over the past few months.  The best chance I had was to make him understand.

            I looked at him, tried to connect.  “He killed my best friend’s sister.  She was eighteen years old—“

            “I know,” Beck said, and I didn’t know if that was growing anger or empathy in his voice.

            I cut back in.  “And that was the end of a long line of murders.  He needed to be dealt with.”

            Beck wasn’t happy with that answer.  His voice was already low and angry, and it went down to an almost-growl as he said, “You’re not a judge.  You don’t get to make that call.”

            Fuck.  He wasn’t listening.  He’d already made up his mind about the whole thing.  All he could see was the justice side of it—I was nothing better than a vigilante in his eyes.  The reasons why didn’t make a difference.

            Meanwhile, the whole country had been blown to pieces one day and rebuilt another and all I could see was Bonnie’s dead body in Stanley’s arms.  If that didn’t matter—if her sacrifice didn’t matter—then what did?

            There was too much in my head.  Too much truth that Hawkins had put there.

             “Tell me where I can find Stanley,” Beck said coolly, “and all this will end.”

            Don’t ask me that, Beck.  So help me, I can’t give you an answer.  Ever.

            I said nothing for a while.  Neither did he.

            Finally, I spelled it out for him.  “I’m not giving him up.  If that’s what you’re waiting for you’re gonna be here a very long time.” 

            Beck watched me for a good, long moment.  Then he called out, “Bring him in!”

            The door slammed open, and two of Beck’s men came in, holding Russell up by his collar.  He could barely walk.  I was still figuring out what I was seeing when Beck said, “Your friend Russell?”

            I clenched my teeth, swallowed hard.

            “He said the same thing.”

            This time I looked Beck right in the eye.  I was too angry not to.

            “But everybody breaks.”  There was some sort of satisfaction in that statement.  “Eventually.”

            God, Beck, what the hell are you doing?

            “And until you do, these four walls will be your entire world.”  He sat back, watching me so intensely my eyes began to burn from meeting his.  “You will not sleep—“ he stood, moving the chair out of the way but never taking his eyes from mine, “—unless I let you.  You will not eat—“ he moved closer, so close my gaze wavered for a second and my heart sped up, “—until I feed you.  You will give me what I want.”  He leaned down so his face was inches from mine.

            That did it.  I looked away, forced myself at least to not close my eyes.  I went to bite my lip but wound up biting my tongue instead.  He was too close.  It was hard to breathe with him right there, staring at me.

            After a long moment, he straightened.  “I’ll check back with you in a day,” he said.  Before I could register that Beck was leaving, the chair was yanked out from under me.  I hit the concrete and a sharp pain shot up my arm.

            The door shut behind them and left me in total darkness.  I froze, not knowing what to expect.  There was a long silence.

            And then the lights snapped on, blinding me.  It took me a few seconds before I realized what they were doing.

            Don’t do this, I willed Beck in my head, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good.  You’re a good man, don’t do this.

            He had to know what I was thinking, but he didn’t return.  And as the long wait for tomorrow began, I became suddenly aware of how hot it was, and how thirsty I was getting.

*          *          *

            For some reason I kept flashing back to when the town was in chaos and we barely knew how to ration food and water to survive.  I remembered how scared everyone was, and when I went rabbit hunting with Stanley, returning with nothing.  It was survival of the fittest, and I’d made it through.

            There was no reason I couldn’t handle this.

            Still, as the seconds ticked by, it grew harder and harder to ignore the pounding in my skull.  My eyes were sore as hell even though I kept them shut.

            More time passed.  Then more.  Beck’s voice echoed in my head.

            Tell me where I can find Stanley and all this will end.

            No.  I wouldn’t.  And fuck him for asking.

            More time went by.

            Everybody breaks.  Eventually.

            How many people have you broken, Beck?

            I had no idea how long it was before I heard the sound of a door opening.

            Two of Beck’s men came in and yanked me off the floor.  Before I knew it I was blindfolded and being dragged off to somewhere damp and cold.

            My pants were yanked down and I was shoved back onto a toilet seat.  I tried not to think.

            I was dragged back to the basement and thrown down the steps.  I landed hard on my bruised shoulder.   My teeth clenched but I didn’t make a sound.  If Beck was here, he wasn’t going to get anything out of me.

            Beck.

            He thought he was doing the right thing.  Torture me and he would bring Stanley out of hiding.  Except Beck thought he was after a cold-blooded killer.  If only he knew the man that Stanley really was.

            I pushed away the memory of my best friend, standing there with a gun cocked at Goetz.  Stanley had problems killing chickens, and somehow he had pulled that trigger after a long, calculating moment.  He’d shot an unarmed man in the head.

            “Damn it,” I hissed, trying to shove myself over to the wall.  When my back brushed the cool concrete I leaned my head against it.

            For a moment I forgot about the hot, blinding lights as the anger rose.  Beck wasn’t being reasonable.  He could understand but he was choosing not to.  He just wanted to follow orders because it was easier than dealing with the truth.

            Some part of me knew Beck probably had no idea how fucked up the Cheyenne government was.  The rest of me didn’t care.

            He’d stand behind a tyrant, because that’s what Majors do.  They don’t question their commanding officers and they don’t question their leaders.

            Well, if Beck wanted to torture me, then let him.  They’d broken Russell, but they wouldn’t break me.

            Except they could keep me here for months. Long enough to break me down with heat exhaustion and thirst.  I might give up the location without realizing.

            No, I couldn’t just sit here and wait for Beck to come to his senses.  I had to find a way out of this.

            I’d heard them lock the door after the outhouse…it sounded like deadbolts sliding shut.  So no escape that way.  And making a run for it would be suicide.

            So what was left?

            There was Beck.  He was in charge of all of this; if I could just make him see…

            No, he was blind.  He wouldn’t listen to me.

            I turned more towards the wall, blocking the light with my body.  The cool cement scraped against my forehead and I tried to think.

            What did I know about Beck?  Not much.  But he had access to my files.

            “You read my file?”

            “I don’t know.  A lot of files passed over my desk.”

            He’d use that against me.  I didn’t even know if he had family or friends.  Maybe someone who died when the bombs dropped?

            All of this was useless without any answers.  Beck had an excellent poker face and unless I hit a real nerve, I wouldn’t get anything out of him.  And I wouldn’t have the energy for that anyway.  I needed something simple, something I could hold onto even when it got hard to think straight.

            I rubbed my head against the cement, trying to cool myself down.

            There had to be an angle I could play…

            I thought back to when I first met Beck.  After the confrontation with Constantino, he’d brought me back to town.  He’d called me into his office and offered me the Sheriff’s job.

  
          He stood so close, his shoulder almost brushing mine.  He watched me, and I’d never felt so scrutinized in my entire life.  It was like being looked through with a magnifying glass.  His eyes swept over me.

            “Think about it,” he said.

            I left without taking his offer, but I kept thinking about what he’d said to me, and the way he’d said it.  Soft.  Quiet.

            I shut those thoughts down when I came home to see Emily chatting with Eric on the couch.  I gave her a kiss and that was that.

            Then Beck showed me the body of the man from New Bern.  It was like a punch in the gut.  I’d been planning an attack on New Bern that night.  It wasn’t a coincidence he was showing this to me now.

            Beck walked over to me and laid a hand on my arm.  It was strangely comforting.

            “You gotta ask yourself if your father would have wanted your story to end in one of these bags.”

            As soon as he mentioned my father I stopped listening and got up to leave.  Beck grabbed my arm.  I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but all I said was, “My father’s dead.”  Because he was right.

            I was angry about it the entire day, knowing he’d intentionally pushed that button.  And then he accepted my cock-and-bull story about Eric trying to stop a group from attacking New Bern.  He knew I was lying, but he grabbed me by the arm and warned me, “Just so we’re clear: you just saved your brother’s life tonight.”

            I blinked.  The blindfold had fallen off and I’d opened my eyes without even realizing.

            Later that night I returned to Beck’s office.  The place was empty except for him, and dark, except for the light in his office.  I knocked on the door just as he hung up the phone.

  
          “Jake,” he said, as though this was a pleasant surprise and my brother hadn’t nearly become a vigilante a few hours ago.  He opened a drawer.

            I started, “I’ve come by to—“

            He tossed the badge onto the desk.

            I glanced at him. He gave me an expectant look.

            So.  He’d known all along.

            “…take you up on your offer,” I finished.

            There was a long silence.  I looked at the badge for a moment.  When I met his eyes again I asked, “How’d you know?”

            Beck replied immediately, “I tried to tell you before, I’m good at what I do.”

            I caught something in his voice.  Was he flirting?

            We stared at each other for a little too long.

            I nodded slightly, dropping my eyes as I picked up the badge.

            That was it.

            There was an angle I could play.  Beck had been flirting with me (I could practically hear Eric joking about making love and not war).  I could play off of that somehow.  Test the waters and see if I could maybe make Beck’s heart win out over his head.

            It wasn’t the best idea in the world, but it was better than breaking down a deadlocked door or making a run for it.

            Beck had trusted me once.  I had to get that trust back.

            I just needed to figure out how.

....tbc....

Put Your Hands Into the Fire

            Oh, Jake was going to love this.

            I was heading over to Jake’s because we’d gotten lucky the other day and caught a hell of a big turkey.  Actually, who says it was luck?  I think it was our massive determination and skill.  I’d warbled and Jake had shot it.

            On the way home with our bounty, I’d slid my arm over Jake’s shoulder and called us “the great hunters of Jericho.”  He’d laughed a little and shoved me playfully, nearly dropping the turkey.  It had been a good day.

            I walked onto the Greens’ lawn and was greeted by the family dog.  “Hey!” I said, grabbing the dog and wrestling with him a bit.  He panted and barked and wagged his tail.  I scratched his ears.  “That’s a good doggie!”

            “There you are.”  I looked up to see who had spoken.  It was Gail Green, Jake’s mom, holding the door open and watching me with a smile on her face.

            “Hello, Mrs. Green,” I said, straightening up.

            “I’ve already told you, Stanley—you can call me Gail,” she replied, opening the door wider.  “Now come in.  The turkey should be done cooking soon.”

            “How’s that coming along, by the way?” I asked, as I stepped onto the porch and through the door.

            “Jake and his father had to set up a spit outside,” she replied, shutting the door behind me.  I stopped and looked at her, grinning.

            “What?” she asked curiously.

            “Jake and Mayor Green cooking a turkey like two cavemen,” I said.  “It’s priceless.  And by priceless, I mean I would pay to see it.”

            Gail smiled.  “Oh, Stanley.”

            “I’m your ray of sunshine, aren’t I?” I asked, leaning against her shoulder.

            “Just get in there,” she laughed, heading to the kitchen counter.  “Jake should be in the living room.”

            “Okay then.  I’ll bug you later,” I said, giving her a quick side hug.  She laughed and patted me on the back.

            When I walked into the living room, Jake was sitting in the old comfy chair.  He was looking through a book as he drank something from a glass.

            “Hey!” I yelled.  Jake jumped, nearly spilling his drink, then looked at me, eyes wide.

            “Ha ha, really funny,” he said when he saw it was me.  He set the cup down and got up, giving me a friendly glare.

            “Easily overexcited, Jake?” I asked, hiding my laughter.

            “I’ll show you overexcited,” he said, this time with half a smile.  I grinned at him and he shook his head, finally not able to stop himself from grinning as well.  He walked past me and put the book he was holding back on the shelf.

            “What were you reading?” I asked with interest.

            “One of dad’s books: the art of politics,” he replied.  “It’s really depressing.”

            “Speaking of books,” I said, pleasantly surprised at how the conversation had immediately leant itself for what I’d wanted to show him.  I yanked the thick paperback out of my coat.  “I just discovered this up in the attic.  Apparently either my mom or dad had a thing for smutty romance novels.”

            Jake looked at me with raised eyebrows.  “Uh huh.  Sure it wasn’t yours?”

            Hmmm.  Would I like reading novels like these?  Depends.

            “You got me,” I said.  “I just can’t get enough of those…” I flipped open the book and looked for something to prove my point, “…‘spine-cracking orgasms.’”

            Jake actually laughed really hard.  I shut the book.  “Yeah, well…” Jake cleared his throat.  “Those are good to have.”

            “Not sure about that,” I said, setting the book down on the coffee table.  “I might not be able to handle it.  Bad back and all.”

            There was a small silence that bordered on awkward.  Jake and I looked at each other for a moment before he turned away and cleared his throat again.

            “I’d better go check up on dad,” he said.

            “I’ll come with,” I said, not sure what had just happened.  Jake glanced at me.  “That is, if you don’t mind.”

            “Of course I don’t mind,” he replied, and just like that the weird tension was gone.  “My dad’s gotta see you at some point.”

            I grinned.  “Oh, the shame of me being your friend.”

            Jake looked at me for a moment then grinned.  “Exactly.”

            It’d been a good number of weeks since I’d eaten fresh poultry like that.  Maybe the world was ending out there, but in the Greens’ backyard, it was like a really good picnic.

            “Oh, I’m so full,” I said, leaning back against my chair and taking a heaving sigh.

            “You only ate half the turkey, Stan,” Mr. Green said, joking in that wry way of his.  “Sure you’re not up for a little more?”

            I closed my eyes and shook my head, smiling.  “Nope.  Stuffed.”

            “Yes, well you can take some home,” Mrs. Green said.  I started to speak but she cut me off.  “And no arguing.  You helped catch it.”

            “Yeah, he made random bird squawks,” Jake said, passing me by with his plate.  He stopped behind my chair where I was slumped, and I felt his hand slide onto my shoulder.  He leaned down so his face hovered by my shoulder and his breath tickled my ear.  “By the sound of them, that turkey must have been pretty desperate.”

            I swatted at him.  He pulled back, laughing.

            “You know what?” I said, forcing myself to sit up.  “I think I will have some more turkey.”

            A couple of hours later it had started to get dark and everybody pitched in to help salt the turkey and wrap it up to keep it preserved.  We’d cleared the picnic table and I made sure Mrs. Green didn’t have to do anything extra.  She’d protested, but I eased her mind by telling her my Spidey-strength had kicked in.

            Jake and I sat in the living room, all the lights off except for a few lighted candles and a roaring fire in the fireplace.  Mr. and Mrs. Green had gone off to rest.  It was always so cozy in the Green house.  I’d always loved that about it.

            I looked at Jake.  The shadows on his face made him look a bit older, more worn.  I’d always wondered exactly what had made him leave town, and why he’d stayed away for so long without a word.  I’d actually been really ticked off when it happened.  He just took off without warning and for all anyone knew he could have been dead these past few years.  But that anger hadn’t been there when I’d seen him for the first time in five years. Instead, I’d grabbed him in a bear hug and lifted him off the ground.  It felt like the right thing to do.  I’d just been really glad my old buddy was back.

            “I missed this,” I said, breaking the soft quiet.

            Jake glanced at me, and the fire made his gaze more intense somehow. “Missed what?” he asked softly.

            “All of this,” I said, gesturing at the surroundings.  “We used to hang out here all the time, Jake.  I always felt at home here.”

            Jake looked to the fire.  “I always felt more at home at your place.”

            “Yeah, we were there a lot too,” I admitted.  “But I never knew why.  You seemed to have a good family, a nice house, even the loving family pet.”  Jake looked back to me.  “I just don’t know why you didn’t want to stay.”

            “I didn’t have much to stay for,” he replied.  Jake’s gaze went back to the fire.

            “Well, what about your friends?  Me and Bonnie nearly went crazy when you just up and left.  Your mom called me up and she was crying.”

            “I really don’t want to talk about this,” Jake said.

            “I dunno, Jake.  Five years with no word, no explanation, and you just expect me to take it?”  I watched him, trying to keep my anger in check.  Something I’d buried half a decade ago was rising to the surface again, and I didn’t want to get into an argument with Jake.  They never went well, especially since Jake was pretty quick to anger.

            “Yeah, Stanley, I expect you to take it,” he said, and glared at me.  The fire threw his face into sharp relief and I caught not just the anger in his eyes, but the tiredness.  “You never asked questions before; I don’t see why you’d start now.”

            There was a deep silence, punctuated only by the sound of busy crickets outside and the sharp crackling of the fire.

            I spoke again, but this time my voice was softer.  “I was really worried that something had happened to you.”

            Jake snorted a derisive laugh.  “I’m a grown up man, Stan.  What did you think was going to happen to me?”

            “I don’t know,” I said.  I stared at him.  “I don’t know.  And that’s why I was so pissed off, Jake.  Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

            Jake and I stared at each other.  I didn’t even blink.

            “I didn’t really plan it,” he said finally.  “It was a spur of the moment decision.”

            “Oh.”  I looked at the blazing fire and tried to make sense of my jumbled feelings.  I was finally getting some answers, but they weren’t really making me feel any better.

            The silence lingered a while longer.  It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but there were a lot of things unsaid.

            “Was it because of Jonah?” I asked, still staring at the fire.

            I saw Jake look at me out of the corner of my eye.

            “Why would I leave because of Jonah?” he asked.

            I shrugged.  “Not sure.  He’s a dangerous guy.  I thought maybe he’d gotten too bad for you, or something.”

            Jake said nothing.

            “I actually thought…” I said, and I stopped a moment to take a deep breath before going on, “…it was because you two split up.”

            There was silence again.  I moved my eyes from the fire to look at Jake.  His gaze was on the floor.

            “How did you know about…?” he started.

            “It seemed pretty obvious to me,” I said.

            “Well, I didn’t leave because of that,” Jake said, glancing up at me with his eyes.  “Jonah…he was really overprotective at times…he got jealous over nothing.  But it wasn’t that.  I just…I felt like I was suffocating.  I could never live up to my dad’s expectations.  We could barely talk without arguing.  Mom kept trying to keep us from going for each other’s throats.  It was just too hard to stay.”

            “You still could have stopped by and told me.  My house is right on the way out of town, Jake.  Do you know what it’s like to worry about whether a friend is dead or alive, or even just okay?”

            Jake looked at me for a long time.  “That time you got caught out in the rain.  We thought you had radiation poisoning.”

            I nodded, remembering.  I had been so afraid that I was going to die.  It was good to know I could look back on that horrible ordeal and laugh.

            “When I visited you in the hospital and you told me you’d been throwing up, it felt like I’d just lost my will to live.  You scared the hell out of me.”

            I grinned just slightly.  “Yeah, well it couldn’t have been half of what I was feeling.”

            Jake looked at me, and it struck me suddenly that maybe it had been.  Maybe even more.  He looked ready to say something.  He even opened his mouth, but after a minute he closed it and dropped his gaze.

            “I’m glad you’re back,” I said.  “Although I must say you could have picked a better time.”

            Jake actually laughed.

            “Then again,” I said, continuing my thought, “maybe this is the best time.  It gives me someone to be with during the stressful nights.”

            Jake’s head snapped up and he looked to me from his chair.  I don’t know if I’d meant for that last part to actually leave my head and come out of my mouth, but oh well, it had traveled there anyway.  May as well not waste the opportunity.

            I got up from my seat and walked over to him.  He looked up at me, something very deep and intense in his dark eyes.  I’d always liked that deep brown color.  It might have been the color of my favorite crayon back in Kindergarten.

            I slowly lowered myself to my knees in front of him, so my face was about level with his chest.  I looked up at him, hands on my knees, and he looked back.

            I could hear his soft breathing, a little more ragged now, blending with the smoldering of the fire.  I noticed his hands were gripping the chair arms.  I would have grinned at the sight, but I was too busy gathering up the nerve to do something more.

            Finally, after a long moment of quiet, I put my hands on his knees.  I glanced to his face, curious about his reaction.  I watched him as I slid my hands slowly up his thighs, spreading my fingers as I did.

            He licked his lips and breathed in raggedly.  Then he moved forward and took my face in his hands.

            “I wanted to stop and tell you,” he whispered, looking me in the eyes.  I watched him as the pain slowly seeped into his expression.  “I would have told you I was leaving, but I thought…”

            “Thought what?” I asked softly.

            “I thought if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave,” he said.

            I stared.

            “Hell, if I’d even just seen you out in the field planting corn without your shirt on one more time, I know I wouldn’t have been able to keep going,” he said, and there was light humor in his words.

            I grinned.  “I really have that effect on you?”

            Jake nodded.  “Oh, yeah.”

            “Well, why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, my brow furrowing.  It does that a lot when I’m confused.

            “I was dealing with Jonah then,” he replied.  “If he’d had any idea what I felt for you, I have no idea what he would have done.  It was hard enough dealing with his jealousy when we were sleeping together.  After I left him, he was ready to attack anybody.  You didn’t need any trouble like the kind I was in.”

            I moved closer to him, between his knees, and rubbed his thigh through his jeans.  He sighed hoarsely, tipping his head back.  I took the opportunity to press my body closer to his.

            “You don’t need to protect me, Jake,” I said, letting my eyes run over his form.

            “No…” he murmured, resting his forehead against mine.  “You had to protect me.”

            I kissed his forehead and he moved so our lips were brushing.  Looking into his eyes I remembered how often he would visit my place and just drop in.  When my dad had died, though, and my mom had had to go to a home, I’d had to devote most of my attention to Bonnie.  It had been about that time that Jake had stopped dropping in so much.  I was always busy, managing the farm, making sure Bonnie got a good education despite her deafness, and maybe he’d taken that as a sign of rejection.  Had he really?  I wasn’t sure, but not much later he had joined Jonah’s gang.  Jonah must have become his protection.  It was stupid of me; I should have been paying more attention back then.

            “That’s what friends do, Jake,” I replied.  “Everyone needs a place to go when home is out of order.”

            “And you’re it,” he said softly, looking into my eyes as we leaned forehead to forehead.

            “I’m what?” I asked, watching him with a small smile.

            “Home,” he replied.  He leaned down and kissed me.  “You were one of the few things I would have stayed for.”

            I brushed my lips over his and his eyes fluttered closed.  I couldn’t help but run my fingers through his hair and brush the stray strands from his eyes.  He opened them and watched me intensely.  I slid my thumb over his soft, soft lips, knowing several times I had dreamed about just how silky they would be when wet, how they would taste.  Those were wet dreams, to be sure.

            I kneeled lower and dipped my head so my chin was almost on his lap.  I saw the rise and fall of his chest and stomach as he breathed.

            My lips touched his cotton shirt, and I felt the warmth of skin just beneath it.  I slid my right hand to the fringe of his shirt and lifted it slightly.  I leaned in and kissed his stomach, feeling his muscles tense, his breath hitching.  I slid my hand up his side, fingers playing on his ribs, taking the shirt up with it.           

            “Stanley,” he murmured, and the sound of his husky voice saying my name like that nearly drove me over the edge.  I kissed my way up his warm skin to his nipple.  I deftly ran my tongue over it and Jake hissed.  I felt his muscles working under my hand as he squirmed between me and the chair.

            I pulled back slightly and let the shirt fall back into place.  Time to put my attention to other beautiful areas.

            I slid my hand over his obvious erection and his body jerked, hips thrusting against my palm.  I leaned in to press my mouth against his throat.  He breathed in sharply, and the next moment he had moved his head so our mouths were brushing and wetting each others.  I squeezed lightly, and he moaned hungrily into my mouth, moving so he could brush himself against my hand.  I kissed him harder and he sucked on my lower lip, brushed my lips with his tongue.

            “You have no idea,” he whispered against my mouth, thrusting his hips in time with my squeezes and rubs, “how long I’ve…wanted this…” He swallowed hard and then moaned, tilting his head back, thrusting harder.

            “I’ve probably wanted it longer than you,” I replied, grinning.  I took his face in both my hands and kissed him, pressing my mouth hard against his and sliding my tongue past his parted lips.  He groaned into my mouth and his hands went to my arms, gripping.

            I managed to tear myself away from him somehow.  We stared at each other, breathing hard.  All I wanted to do now was keep touching him.  I wanted yank off that green shirt and kiss his stomach and chest, see how loud I could make him cry out when I stroked him to his climax.

            “Jake?” I asked.

            “Yeah?”

            “What say we go back to my place?” I said, brushing my palm over his flushed cheek.  He was so unbearably handsome with those cheekbones and chocolate brown eyes…damn it, would we even make the drive home?  “We need more privacy.”

            Jake half-smiled.

            “What?” I asked curiously.

            He replied, “A spine-cracking orgasm sounds good now, doesn’t it?”

            I grinned.  “Oh, yeah.”

The End

Title: Caught in a Net
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Jack/Sawyer
Summary: Jack goes back into the woods to search for clues, with Sawyer's help.  Along the way they get...caught in a net.  Yes, this is referring to the running joke between Jack, Kate, and Sawyer (and all it's implications).
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost, but maybe someday I will.  :)

Jack looked over at Sawyer’s tent. The small flame flickered outside the long dark green ferns and blue tarp, casting small silhouettes of Sawyer’s figure, almost creating a sort of silent shadow show, telling a tale of solitary and dark. Jack could see Sawyer’s shadow, hunched over slightly, arms probably resting on his legs, one hand poised, holding a small stick, a cigarette.

He watched as the shadow of Sawyer raised that hand, placed the small cigarette shadow to his lips. Wisps of dark smoke escaped his mouth in an almost serpentine shape. The next moment Sawyer tipped his head back, as though sighing or breathing deeply.

Jack felt like a voyeur. He didn’t like that his eyes wouldn’t voluntarily move from the silent shadow show in front of him, barely twenty feet away. The fire swirled left, right, around in a circle, dancing to the breath of the wind. The rest of the survivors had their own small boy scout fires, but the one that Sawyer had built, the one which now allowed quiet dark images to play, was not small, and was not tame. It snapped and crackled, and its flames shot out like a predatory tongue, attempting to whip anything too close. It was wildfire, set in a small stone circle, and set too close to the breaching tide. It was in danger of being extinguished, of extinguishing itself.

He wanted to get up, go over to Sawyer’s tent, call inside or knock on the palm fronds, whatever the etiquette was when approaching a makeshift home on a beach. He wanted to hear Sawyer’s southern accent, his scratchy drawl, the clever puns and nicknames he gave everyone. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he wanted Sawyer’s dark eyes on him, and he wanted his own eyes on Sawyer, looking over his bare flesh, wanting to kiss it, taste it, feel it under his fingertips…

“Jack?”

Jack looked away from the tent to his left, where Kate stood, illuminated by the soft light. She really was beautiful.

“Yeah, Kate?” he asked, trying not to act like she’d interrupted a very private thought.

“How is Michael?” she asked, settling down on the sand beside him.

“He’s doing fine,” Jack answered, glancing back over to Sawyer’s tent. He tried to make it look like he was just moving his head, like he wasn’t doing it on purpose. When he looked back to Kate, she was looking at him very carefully.

“You sure? You seem a bit distracted.” Kate peered at him, the fire making her warm brown eyes more intense.

“He’s in no danger,” Jack replied, looking at her full-on. “He was dehydrated and undernourished when he came out of the jungle, Kate. We’ve already remedied that. He just needs some rest and he‘ll be fine.”

Kate had a right to ask him, he knew that. She had been with him when Michael had come running out of the jungle, out of the Other’s side, and collapsed at their feet. Still, he didn’t like having to account for everyone and every little thing that happened to them, and then having to keep everyone updated when they could just as easily see for themselves. It was just the exhaustion talking, but it didn’t stop him from feeling so strongly about it. He was tired of this leader gig. The problem was, it was either him or Locke, and, as much as he hated the job, as much as every fiber of his being just wanted to step down, to listen to that little voice in his head that sounded a lot like his father, he just couldn’t relinquish the responsibility to someone he didn’t trust. So that left quitting out of the question.

“Well?” Kate after a small silence.

“Well what?” Jack asked, glancing to her expectantly.

“Well…what’s the plan, Jack?” Kate asked, giving him a look. “The Others sent Michael out. Is that what they thought you meant by a trade? Are we supposed to give up Henry Gale now?”

“No,” Jack said softly. “If they’d wanted to use Michael as a bargaining chip, they would have ensured we’d understood the rules and upheld our side of the bargain. We made no deal.”

“Yeah, okay, but what if they operate on a different set of rules than we do?” Kate asked. “They don’t think like we do, and they don’t seem to have any morals. What if they expect us to give them their man, and we don’t? Are they going to come after us again?”

“Kate--”

“It just seems odd to me that Michael crossed the line that not so long ago they held a gun to my head and told us not to cross on pain of death, and then they send him out unharmed while we still have something that they want--”

“Kate!”

She stopped, looked at Jack. He looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown, suddenly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She looked at him with concern shining in her expressive brown eyes. “It’s just--sorry.”

She got up abruptly and Jack looked up at her, feeling like crap now because she had just been trying to help and offer advice. One part of him wanted to tell her there was no need for her to apologize to him, that this was his role, his niche, and he had to perform it without fail or things would go from bad and complicated to far worse. It wasn’t her fault that the weight of the entire world was on his shoulders; it wasn’t her fault, but the other part of Jack was too tired and confused to really care.

“It’s okay,” he finally settled on saying. “We’ll talk about this in the morning, okay? After I check up on Michael.”

She watched him a moment before nodding slightly. “Okay,” she said softly. “Good night, Jack.”

“G’night, Kate,” he said quietly as she walked off along the camp.

She was right. The Others were most likely trying to pull something, and the only way to prevent anyone falling into a trap was to interrogate Michael, although judging from the drivel that had slipped from his lips the past few hours, it didn’t seem likely he would be coherent enough to tell them anything for a while. Or maybe Michael didn’t know anything at all.

Jack was up and walking before he even realized what he was doing. And yet he knew exactly was he was doing, what he had to do.

He walked up to Sawyer’s tent, to the burning fire which hissed angrily at him, and knocked on the small bit of plane fuselage which held up most of the fern and tarps which reflected the revealing play of dark images.

The tarps were pushed aside the next second and Sawyer stuck his head out. His long, dirt blond hair was messy and unkempt. He turned his intense eyes onto the doctor standing before him.

“Damn, doc,” Sawyer commented, sounding amused. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you knockin’ on my door so late at night?”

Damn him, he made it sound dirty. Jack pretended he hadn’t heard the double entendre in Sawyer’s words, although it did cause a stirring in his body.

“The Others sent Michael back out to us without any reason. They could have used him for a bargaining chip to get their guy back but they didn’t.”

Sawyer looked at Jack expectantly. “Yeah. So?”

“So something’s not right,” Jack continued. “Now I’m going to go back out there, to the line we weren’t supposed to cross, and I’m going to do some investigating.”

“ ‘Investigatin’? You mean snoopin’,” Sawyer said, the beginning of a grin fleeting across his soft-looking lips. “Somehow I don’t think they’re gonna appreciate you playin’ Sherlock Holmes all over their property.”

“I know,” Jack said. “That’s why I want you to come with me.”

Sawyer actually looked surprised. “An’ what makes you think I’d wanna tag along?”

“I need someone to cover my back when I go in. You have the guns.” It was that simple.

“Last I checked, you had one, too. What happened, Doc? Did Bonnie over there steal it from you?” Sawyer nodded in Kate’s general direction.

Jack stared at Sawyer for a very long time. Sawyer raised an eyebrow.

“Hell, Doc, you’re makin’ me blush.”

Jack sighed, unable to stop himself from acknowledging the words, or the effect Sawyer’s gravelly voice was having on his body. He pursed his lips, glanced in another direction, any direction, as long as he wasn’t looking at that undeniably attractive face, took a few seconds to get himself back under control, and then looked back to Sawyer, who was watching him with renewed interest. He stepped close, very close to Sawyer, so their faces were barely an inch apart.

“If the Others are there,” Jack said very quietly, all his willpower focusing on keeping his gaze on Sawyer’s eyes and not his lips, “we are gonna need more than one gun.”

Sawyer watched him carefully. Jack felt Sawyer’s breath hit his face. They were almost the same height, with Sawyer maybe barely an inch taller. It made the gap between their mouths even smaller.

Sawyer finally spoke. “All right, Doc,” he said, smirking so the dimple in his cheek became apparent. “You got me curious. I’ll join your little quest for the lost arc.”

Jack nodded. He turned to leave when Sawyer grabbed his arm, and that one touch sent electricity tracing up and down Jack’s spine. He bit his lips so he didn’t gasp, then looked back to Sawyer expectantly. Their eyes met and Jack felt there was something behind Sawyer’s eyes, something barely concealed, something very lusty and dark and dangerous.

“What, Sawyer?” Jack asked, trying so hard to keep himself under control.

“Just tell me, Doc,” Sawyer said, all serious now. “What do you expect to find out there?”

Jack didn’t answer for a moment. Sawyer’s hand stayed firmly on Jack’s arm, the skin-on-skin contact clouding his mind so it was taking far longer to think of a response than he would have liked.

So he did the only thing he could do--he glanced down at Sawyer’s hand, then back to Sawyer, who got the hint and dropped his hand.

“I don’t know,” Jack replied. “Honestly? I hope we don’t find anything.”

Sawyer looked at him, giving the barest of nods.

“Be ready bright and early tomorrow, Sawyer. I don’t want anyone else asking what we’re doing.”

“Something tells me Freckles don’t know you’re planning this little trip,” Sawyer said.

Jack shook his head. “She doesn’t.” He turned and began walking away. “Be ready.”

By the time the sun was just creeping over the horizon and the barest traces of warm colors were seeping into the dissipating night sky, Jack stood on the beach, backpack securely fastened, checking the barrel of the 9mm gun to make sure it was loaded. Sawyer walked up to him, holding a rifle and two 9mm guns.

“This enough for you, Dr. Livingston?” Sawyer asked, grinning as he held out one of the 9mm to Jack.

“Yeah,” Jack said after a beat, taking it and shoving the nozzle under his belt. He nodded at the rifle. “That necessary?”

Sawyer pointed the rifle skyward and leaned it back against his shoulder. “Better safe than sorry.” Jack turned to head off. “ ‘Sides, if the 9mm doesn’t do the job, this here rifle will.”

“If you say so,” Jack said, moving on.

By the time they had trekked deep into the jungle, the sun had risen, small shafts of sunlight spilling down in between thick trees. There hadn’t been much conversation, but the silence wasn’t strained. That was one of the few nice things about Sawyer, Jack thought, that it wasn’t awkward to be in silence with him.

“You know, I’m surprised you agreed to come,” Jack said.

“Yeah?” Sawyer’s southern drawl came from behind him.

“Yeah,” Jack said, stopping and turning around to look at him. “Most people would argue this is an unnecessary risk, that’s it too dangerous.”

“But not you, Doc,” Sawyer said, and smirked.

“Not you, either, I noticed,” Jack replied. It was as if every time the two spoke to each other there was a mental swordfight. Sawyer kept parrying, as if he was trying to get the subject off of himself. But Jack kept on pushing that parrying sword right back up to Sawyer’s throat.

“Well, what can I say? I’m a good Samaritan.”

Jack laughed and snorted simultaneously.

“I got a question for you, Doc: why’d you choose me?”

Jack looked at Sawyer. After a moment he answered, choosing his words carefully, “Because you had the guns, Sawyer. And you seemed the least likely to oppose the idea.” He turned to start moving again.

“Somethin’ tells me Freckles wasn’t gonna say no if you asked her.”

Thrust. Jack stopped and turned back to Sawyer. “Yeah, well Kate didn’t really think going out there the first time was such a good idea.”

Parry. Sawyer walked up to Jack, stopping just a couple of feet away from the doctor. “Lucky for me, then,” he murmured huskily.

Stab. Jack shivered slightly, before he could stop himself, at those softly spoken words and their possible meanings. Jack cursed mentally, hoping Sawyer hadn’t seen, but Sawyer’s attention was on the path ahead of them already.

“How long we got to go, Doc?” Sawyer asked, starting off ahead of him.

“About another mile, I think,” Jack replied, hating the fact that just four words had made him lose control so easily. Four words that probably were meant sarcastically, because that was just like Sawyer--sarcastic. But a part of Jack’s brain wouldn’t hear of it, and kept swearing that there hadn’t been a trace of ill-meaning in those murmured words.

“Damn it,” Jack hissed under his breath.

“What?” Sawyer asked, turning to look at him. “You cursin’ at me?”

Jack looked up quickly. “No,” he said immediately.

“Well then, let’s quit stallin’, doc, ‘less you wanna get there by sunset.”

Jack actually laughed a little at that. Sawyer’s eyebrow rose. “You’re right,” Jack conceded, starting forward. “Let’s get moving.”

“Yessir,” Sawyer said. Jack ignored him.

After about another half a mile, Jack tripped over something, and before he could catch his balance, his knee buckled from the unusual angle, and he fell face first onto the jungle foliage.

“ ‘Bout as dainty as a cat, ‘eh, Doc?” Sawyer’s voice reached his ears.

“Very funny, Sawyer,” Jack said, starting to get up. He glanced up when he saw something out of the corner of his eye, then froze. It was Sawyer’s hand, extended to help him.

“You’re very generous today,” Jack said, not taking the hand.

“Ever heard of not bitin‘ the hand that feeds you?” Sawyer replied, never missing a beat.

Jack swallowed and stared a moment longer before finally reaching out and taking Sawyer’s hand. It was strong and warm, with a firm grip, and Sawyer easily pulled him to his feet.

Jack’s knee buckled.

“Whoa!” Sawyer shouted, grabbing Jack around the middle before he could fall to the ground again. “What’d you do, break it?”

Jack pulled back very quickly, the firm feel of Sawyer’s toned body against his own causing him to shiver uncontrollably. He was so preoccupied with trying to quell his body’s reaction that he forgot to balance on his good leg and toppled over backwards, just managing to reach back and hit the dirt with his hands rather than his back.

Sawyer stared at him, confusion and maybe some anger mixed on his face.

Jack couldn’t stop shivering. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on making it stop.

“You cold, Doc?” Sawyer asked, and Jack’s eyes shot open. He was kneeling by his side the next moment, to Jack’s dismay and delight. “You’re shiverin’.” He went to reach for the doctor.

“Don’t!” Jack’s voice came out shrill. Sawyer froze, then glared at him. His expression said it all: what the hell is the matter with you?

This was ridiculous. Why was Sawyer’s touch causing such a reaction all of a sudden? But then, when had they gotten to touch? The few times had usually been initiated by Jack himself, on fleeting impulse or moments of sheer boldness, such as after he’d given Sawyer his handmade pair of glasses. He had patted Sawyer’s shoulder, very quick, seemingly inconspicuous, but the warmth had stayed with Jack the rest of the day.

“I need to look at it before I move it again,” Jack said, sounding much calmer, to his relief. “It’s probably just a sprain, but just in case….”

Sawyer nodded after a beat, then sat back.

Jack inspected his knee very tenderly. It throbbed at his touch, and it felt slightly stiff, as if it was starting to swell. He pressed gently on the bone and there was a small twinge, but nothing sharp that would indicate a broken bone, and the pain was not so terrible that it implied a torn ligament.

It was nice to retreat into doctor mode. There was nothing to compromise it, not Sawyer sitting barely a foot away, not the desire to turn his head and catch that sensuous mouth with his own.

“Well? Is it sprained?” Sawyer asked.

“I think I just hurt it,” Jack said. “Give me a minute.”

After a few minutes passed, Jack attempted to get back up, slowly. Sawyer heaved himself to his feet and held out his hand. Again Jack froze.

“Not offerin’ again, Doc.”

Jack took his hand and Sawyer pulled him to his feet, Sawyer’s other arm automatically going to Jack’s hip as if to make sure he wouldn’t fall again. Jack swallowed, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe calmly, but he managed to remember to lean on his good leg.

“You need a walkin’ stick?” Sawyer asked, and Jack opened his eyes to find Sawyer’s face uncomfortably close.

“That’d be the best course of action, yeah.”

Sawyer smirked.

“What?”

“You’re soundin’ all ’med-school’ now.”

Jack turned his face away from Sawyer’s and looked down at the foliage, trying not to feel Sawyer’s body pressing against his. “There’s one.”

“So what, you gonna hobble on over there?” Sawyer asked.

Jack glared at him.

“Okay, Doc,” Sawyer said, shifting, his hand sliding suddenly up Jack’s hip. Jack breathed in sharply, then froze. Sawyer’s eyebrows came down and he peered at Jack for what seemed like an unbearably long time. Jack prayed silently, but Sawyer’s look was far too intense…and if anyone could piece things together and figure people out, well, it was Sawyer, the conman.

“Okay, I’ll just mosey on over there and grab you your very own personal Jesus stick.” Sawyer slowly released Jack and started over to the stick.

It was just that moment Jack’s eyesight became suddenly very clear and focused on just one tiny glinting string stretched between two plants.

“Stop!” Jack yelled, just as Sawyer’s foot collided with the string. Jack was already moving as fast as he could, but the trap was sprung. There was a loud snap, a crack, and suddenly Jack and Sawyer were squished against each other in one of Rousseau’s nets.

“Damn it!” Jack hissed.

“Calm down, Hero, we got ourselves some guns,” Sawyer said, his mouth right next to Jack’s nose. “We can shoot ourselves down.”

“Yeah, I know the drill,” Jack managed to get out. “Where’s your gun?”

“Where’s yours?”

“Back of my jeans,” Jack said flatly.

“Yeah, the same,” Sawyer said. “So who’s gonna do the honors?”

Jack just didn’t want to accept defeat that easily. He tried moving his arms down, inadvertently brushing Sawyer’s side, and cursing at himself mentally because, despite the fact that they were caught in a net, a part of him was enjoying the fact that this put him in direct contact with Sawyer without arousing suspicion.

“Any luck with that?” Sawyer finally asked, when Jack finally realized his hands weren’t going to make it around to his own gun.

“Can you get mine?” Jack asked, glancing at Sawyer’s face, which kept brushing his. Sawyer turned his head slightly and their lips brushed. The next moment Sawyer’s hands were sliding around Jack’s waist, under his shirt, searching for the gun. Jack’s lips parted and he breathed in shakily.

Sawyer’s hands stopped for a moment, and Jack tipped his head back slightly to look at him, causing their mouths to connect for another second, lip against lip. Jack closed his eyes and tried hard not to react, not to let loose that little gasp or those soft little whimpers, but it felt so good. When he finally opened his eyes again, he saw Sawyer looking at him, something very like realization dawning in his intense eyes.

“Well, at least one of us is havin’ a good time,” Sawyer smirked.

Jack opened his eyes and stared. “What?” he asked.

Just then Sawyer slid his hands directly up Jack’s shirt, his fingertips spreading along Jack’s skin, up over his ribs, over his stomach, sliding over his chest.

That was more than Jack could willingly handle. He tried to force out, “What--what are you…”

“I’m savin’ us, Doc,” Sawyer said, lips against Jack’s ear. “That’s what I’m doin’.”

Sawyer mouth was on Jack’s neck the next moment and that was when Jack decided he didn’t care anymore. It felt too good to fight, too good to think. Sawyer’s hands slid around Jack’s back, kneading the flesh like bread dough, his soft lips sucking at Jack‘s throat, lips and tongue and teeth marking his entire shoulder. Jack felt suddenly very warm when Sawyer moaned against his skin. “God, Doc, you feel so good…”

“Kiss me,” Jack whispered urgently. “Please, Sawyer--”

Their mouths collided and Sawyer’s hand was on Jack’s ass, pressing their lower bodies harder together so that both could feel they were hard. Jack moaned into Sawyer’s mouth when Sawyer’s hand slid down over the front of his jeans and closed around the telltale bulge. Jack reached up into Sawyer’s hair, gripping the strands, forcing Sawyer’s mouth harder against his own, tongues touching and exploring each other’s mouths. Sawyer sucked hard on Jack’s lower lip, causing Jack to murmur Sawyer’s name with a heated passionate fervor. “Yeah, that’s right, Doc,“ Sawyer whispered against Jack’s mouth, sliding his hand over his erection. Jack thrust into his hand just as Sawyer sank his teeth into Jack’s shoulder.

“You want me, Jack?” Sawyer murmured into Jack’s ear, kissing his way down his jaw. His fingers tugged playfully at the fringe of Jack’s jeans. “You want me?”

“Yes,” Jack forced out, almost whimpering with need. “God, yes…please…”

With one hand, Sawyer undid the fly of Jack’s jeans, his other gripping the base of Jack’s neck, forcing their mouths together. Jack reached for Sawyer’s jeans, but Sawyer caught his hand and murmured huskily, “Not yet, Doc. You first.” With that, he shoved their mouths together, parted his lips wide, and plunged his tongue deep into Jack’s mouth just as he took Jack in his hand and squeezed lightly.

Any cries of pleasure were lost, muffled by Sawyer’s mouth and its hungry kisses. Jack moved his hips in time with Sawyer’s agonizingly slow movements, so full of need that he tried to make Sawyer go faster, but Sawyer was setting the pace, however taunting.

After another few agonizing strokes, Jack finally tore his mouth from Sawyer’s and breathed out, “My God--Sawyer--”

“Didn’t know you believed in God, Doc,” Sawyer whispered, sounding as though he was smirking. “Being a man of science an’ all.”

He kissed Jack’s neck warmly, wetly, and gave a little nip. Jack exhaled sharply and moaned. Suddenly Sawyer rolled his hips, bumping their pelvises together, and Jack cried out.

“You like that?” Sawyer asked, lips against Jack’s pulse, which was beating rapidly. He ran his tongue down his jaw, then kissed his chin.

“Sawyer--please--”

Sawyer’s free hand moved from the base of his neck to Jack’s ass again, pushing him harder into his hand, teasing him, guiding his rhythm. He jerked Jack good and hard twice, just enough to rip another cry from Jack’s lips.

“Say pretty please, Doc.”

“Dammit, Sawyer, don’t--”

Jack looked down, reached for Sawyer’s hand, and covered it with his own, speeding up the strokes. Sawyer grinned against his shoulder as Jack tipped his head back and parted his lips to let more air in, trying to breathe but whimpering with need and building friction as Sawyer finally took charge, doing things with his fingertips and thumb and the way he squeezed and pulled and pushed, his hips striving to meet the deliciously demanding pace…

“Oh, God…” Jack breathed out, cursing under his breath.

“That’s right, Doc,” Sawyer whispered, voice so low he was barely saying the words. The next moment Jack heard a zipper and Sawyer took Jack’s hand and put it around both of them. He slid his hand over Jack’s and began to guide the rhythm, letting loose a purring moan that made Jack, if even possible, go harder.

Without thinking, Jack sped up the rhythm, thrusting his hips in time with Sawyer’s, their sweating bodies rubbing and warming and becoming so hot with the fevered contact. Their mouths met again, the soft or hard pushes of their parted lips and the brushes of their tongues almost falling into the same rhythm as their hips, their breathing turning into pants of need, their murmured words and curses becoming more frantic, more passionate. Jack felt Sawyer’s rhythm beginning to falter, becoming more erratic, and the explosion of pleasure humming and growing just beneath the surface told Jack they were both incredibly close.

Suddenly Sawyer released Jack’s hand and both went to Jack’s ass, his mouth poised an inch from Jack’s, his eyes closed as he murmured, “Bring me, Doc.”

Their mouths collided and Sawyer pulled Jack right up against him just as Jack gave one hard stroke that brought Sawyer with a long moan of release, and then another that brought Jack with a soft cry, muffled by Sawyer’s soft lips.

They collapsed against each other, the net holding them both securely upright. There was a long silence, broken only by the small chirping of birds, the occasional wind rustling the foliage, and the sound of the creaking tree branch holding the net.

“Sure took you long enough to let me in on the secret,” Sawyer murmured against Jack’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jack replied softly, spent.

“Well, I hate to break the mood, but I don’t feel like explainin’ to the French Chick, those Others, or some smoky Hell-Monster what the hell we’re doin’ all hot and sticky in this net.”

Jack started laughing.

“Yeah, very funny,” Sawyer mumbled, reaching around Jack’s back with some difficulty and dislodging the gun from his jeans. He let his fingers slide over Jack’s back and got a small sigh for his trouble. “Now let’s get outta this damn thing before my legs fall asleep.” He aimed at the rope holding them up.

“You should let me do it,” Jack said.

Sawyer looked at him. “What, you think I can’t do it?”

“I bet I’m a better shot than you.”

“Well, you’re on!” Sawyer snapped, turning his attention back to the gun and aiming only a second before squeezing the trigger. The rope snapped and the two men plunged to the ground, Sawyer landing hard on top of Jack.

“Mmm, that’s better,” Sawyer said, smirking down at the doctor.

“We’re going to be missed, Sawyer,” Jack said, somehow managing to keep a level head with Sawyer’s sweat-slicked body pressed to his own.

“Oh yeah. We didn’t tell anyone ‘bout this little rendezvous, now did we?”

Jack actually blushed slightly. “I didn’t have this planned,” he said, pushing Sawyer off and getting to his feet. He hastily zipped himself up.

“Well, that was really convenient then, wasn‘t it, Doc?”

Jack ignored him, placing the gun back in his jeans. Sawyer zipped up his fly, then glanced back to Jack, who looked a little worried.

“What?” Sawyer asked.

“What if someone asks where we were?” Jack said.

Sawyer watched him for a moment, a small smirk slowly spreading across his face. “Tell ‘em the truth, Doc.” He turned to head off and said over his shoulder, “Tell ‘em we got caught in a net.”

The End

Title: My Rooftop Surprise
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/Humor
Warnings: Slash
Summary: JD decides he needs a little more spice in his life.  That's where Dr. Cox comes in.
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Scrubs. :(

J.D.'s POV--

Some days are just one surprise after another. Other days, like this one, were the same old boring routine. Running up and down floors, checking up on patients, giving physicals to jocks who have arms bigger than my head, and addressing, of course, the everyday hypochondriac.

“No, sir, you do not have halitosis. Or gallstones. Or cancer. You don’t even have the common cold really…”

And that got me thinking. Variety is the spice of life, and lately there just hadn’t been enough spice in the life of John Dorian. Maybe I needed to stir things up a bit.

“Hello, Lavern. How about a game of making the nurse smile?”

I got a glare for my trouble.

“Okay, but I’ll win eventually,” I said.

“Bambi?” I turned to see Carla walking up to me. “You have a patient in room 37 with a liver condition. He’s been taking the medications prescribed but he claims there have been unwanted side effects.”

“Okay,” I said, taking the chart. Back to work again.

By the time lunchtime had rolled around, I had dealt with fifteen more patients, and the strawberry waffle I’d eaten for breakfast was long gone from my system. No more sugar rush. I needed to stack up on some carbs.

“What’s it this time?”

I stopped, turned, and found the janitor glaring at me, mop in hand.

“What?” I asked, confused and already on my guard. This man was out to get me.

“You had that look on your face like you’re about to do something. Something evil.”

“I am not evil,” I said, giving him my best glare.

“There, you’re doing it again.”

“That’s my evil eye!” Oh. “I was just going to lunch.”

“So you were going to lunch so you could…what? Give your food the ‘evil eye’?” the janitor asked.

“You know what? This conversation is over!” I said, and marched out of there.

Were my ‘lunch’ expression and my ‘evil eye’ really that similar?

Like I said, some things never change.

When I stepped into the lunch room, and I scanned the crowd, I suddenly realized why things never change. I was comfortable with the ways things were, and as long as I kept to routine, I was never going to find any real excitement.

So I grabbed a banana and I headed to the roof.

It was a little nippy outside, but the fresh air was nice. I unpeeled my banana and ate it slowly, enjoying every last bite. It was kind of weird, eating alone, without Elliot’s constant ramblings, Turk’s pick-me-up jokes, and Carla reprimanding him. The bright side was I definitely wouldn’t have to show the Todd some love. My arm was already a little achy and it just didn’t need that sort of pain right now.

I placed my banana peel carefully on the edge, splaying out all the peeled ends so it looked like a three-armed starfish.

“Well, if it isn‘t Rapunzel! Are you waiting for some handsome young man to spot you up here and yell to throw down your long, wavy hair? Because I can’t help but be a party pooper and say that if, indeed, that young man is foolish enough to try to climb to that ever-awe-inspiring speed bump that is your head, well, he’s going to find himself forever stuck in that enormous amount of hair gel you use, much like a fly caught in some industrial strength flypaper.”

I think my hair looks awesome, thank you.

“Ha ha, very funny, Dr. Cox,” I said instead.

“I know. Now what are you doing here up on the roof, Patricia?” I opened my mouth. “And if you start singing, by God, I will clobber you so hard it’ll make those little doll-eyes of yours spin.”

“I’m just getting some fresh air,” I replied. “You know, a change of scenery.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Dr. Cox said. “Has looking at the parking lot been all you’d hoped it would be? Hmmm?”

“You know what?” I glared at him. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to this.” I turned to walk away.

There was a loud whistle. “Stay, Newbie.”

For some reason beyond me, I froze.

“Good Newbie! Oh, would you look at that…I’m fresh out of treats.”

I turned. “Why do you always have to be so mean to me?”

“I don’t know. I just can’t seem to stop.”

I strode right up to him and stared him in his--very cold and scary--eyes. He could glare all he wanted; I wasn’t going to back down this time.

“Look, I just came up here to escape the crowd and the janitor and Todd and yes, even you, believe it or not, because the world, Perry Cox, does NOT revolve around you!”

Dr. Cox raised his eyebrows. I stood there, glaring at him. “Well, that was harsh, Newbie. I think you broke my spirit.”

“Oh for goodness sakes…” I whispered.

“Now here’s the low-down for you, Newbie,” Cox said suddenly, and there was a growl in his voice. I snapped my attention back to him and he started moving forward while he was talking. I quickly started moving back. “I may have made this clear to you before but as it is you’re usually deaf, dumb, and occasionally blind--” here my back hit the wall for the door to the stairs “--I will tell you once again.”

Dr. Cox placed an arm on either side of my head, effectively blocking any chance of escape. I watched him like a frightened bunny watches an angry cartoon coyote.

“The world does revolve around me. Hell, you’d revolve around me if I told you to, Helen.”

I had a sudden image of me dressed in a Jupiter suit with rings around my stomach flying in circles around a flaming Dr. Cox.

“Snap out of it, Newbie!” I refocused my eyes on the non-flaming Dr. Cox in front of me. Directly in front of me. He was so close to me, in fact, I could have leaned forward right there and kissed him.

Now where did that come from?

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly revolve around you…I’d do more of a pirouette,” I said quietly.

Dr. Cox glared at me for the longest time. Finally, the fact that we were so close together began making me uncomfortable. I swallowed.

“Um, Dr. Cox, do you think you could…maybe…”

I didn’t know how to put it without sounding rude.

Cox raised his eyebrows. “You want me to move, Darla? I don’t think that’s possible, seeing’s how I’m the sun, remember? Everything else revolves around me, not the other way around.”

I felt the heat creep up into my face and I swallowed again.

“Well, I’m just a little uncomfortable….”

“Why? Does being this close to a gorgeous man make you go all weak in the knees?” Dr. Cox moved even closer, so close that our bodies were touching. My breath caught in my throat and I totally froze. “Or is it the fact that you just don’t know how to flirt because you’re sure if you play hard-to-get none of the boys are going to think you’re worth the effort?”

I wasn’t catching everything that was being said at this point. Dr. Cox being so close was sort of overwhelming. I lifted my gaze from the ground and blinked at him.

“That some sort of Morse code, Newbie? Cause I don’t get it.”

“Dr. Cox, please…”

It came out a bit softer than I’d intended. Dr. Cox looked at me for a good long while, then blinked at me.

“Please what? What, Newbie, what?”

So many answers to that question popped into my head at once it was alarming. Some of them I was sure were not the right answer.

“You know, it’s almost cute, this girlish shyness of yours--I’m even impressed by the way your blush brings out your cheekbones--but I’m not fooled, Kira, I’m really n--”

At that moment he moved a little closer and he froze. I was breathing hard now, even--yes--shaking a little bit, trying to ignore the feel of Dr. Cox’s body touching mine. I didn’t look at him but I could feel him surveying me.

He moved his face a little closer until our noses were almost touching. I couldn’t keep myself from breathing faster, and I wondered vaguely if the stethoscope around my neck was magnifying my racing heartbeat.

Dr. Cox peered at my face. Somehow I met his eyes. “Dear God, Newbie, is this turning you on?”

My eyes widened. Oh crap! This was not a good thing. Say something! Deny it!

“No, of course not,” I said, and laughed weakly.

Dr. Cox leaned into me, hands flat against the walls on either side of me, and moved up, thrusting against me hard. I lost my breath for a moment; then I remembered I could breathe and drew in a ragged breath when he moved again suddenly and once more I was breathless.

“Dr. Cox…” I whispered, my mouth very, very dry.

“Shut up, Newbie,” Dr. Cox said immediately, and when I opened my mouth to speak this time his lips were on mine, pressed hard and demanding. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move for a moment, it was all happening so quickly.

Ah, to hell with it!

I grabbed Dr. Cox around the waist quickly, almost needy, wanting him as close to me as was possible without the two of us merging into one horrific super-creature. For a moment I almost flittered off into fantasyland, overtaken by a huge curiosity of what a mix between Dr. Cox and myself would look like. Would it have my nose?

There was a loud (and piercing) whistle right in my ear. I jumped and yelled, “Ow!” My hand flew to my ear, which was ringing.

Dr. Cox was staring straight at me, his face only an inch away. “Stay with me, Newbie. What on God’s green earth could you possibly be thinking about other than this moment?”

“Actually--” I started

“Zip it.” Dr. Cox glared at me. “I’ll say this slowly--I….don’t….really….care.”

This time when he banged his mouth against mine (double owie) I was ready, and willing. He forced his tongue between my lips and I couldn’t suppress a moan. I froze, half expecting him to stop and call me a girl, but instead it seemed to spur him on, and he grabbed the base of my neck, thumb stroking the “spot” I had just at the nape of my neck. Girly or not, I moaned again, more loudly this time, into his mouth. He pinned me harder back against the wall, kissing me so hard the back of my head was scraping the concrete.

I did the only thing I could think to do. I tentatively kissed him back.

“My God, Newbie, you kiss like a girl.”

Okay, so that made me a little angry. Even though I was the one who was vulnerable, with Dr. Cox’s hand creeping up my shirt, I couldn’t prevent the thought that slipped into my brain from slipping out. “I happen to have it on excellent authority that my kisses are very manly. And wholesome.”

“Uh huh…hate to break it to you there, Newbie, but your kissing isn‘t exactly the breakfast of champions,” Cox said.

Now that was just mean.

The next moment he had his hand gripping my hair and tipping my head back. His lips were on my throat and he was planting amazing kisses along my jaw.

“Oh, God,” I said, a little shakily.

Almost immediately after I said that, Dr. Cox bit my throat hard, and I cried out, surprisingly not in pain. While he kissed the wound he’d made, gently brushing his tongue over it and tipping my head forcefully so he could latch onto my throat again, this time more gently, I found myself thinking how Dr. Cox would make a great Dr. Acula. He really had the whole biting thing down.

I felt Dr. Cox slowly loosen the grip he had on my hair, and trail his fingers down my jaw, along my chest, running lightly over my nipple, over my stomach, then stopping just at the fringe of my scrubs pants. I waited, but he did nothing.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered.

“Why not?” Dr. Cox asked, moving his head so he was once again face-to-face with me.

“Because I want you,” I blurted out. Damn it, I have to learn to control that part of my brain. What was it called? The cerebral cortex? No, that couldn’t be right…

“You want me, Newbie? Utterly and for real?” Cox asked.

I stared at him. “Yes,” I answered, never more serious.

Dr. Cox moved in closer so our noses were brushing. I couldn’t help but look at his lips and I was quite happy to notice he also glanced at mine once or twice.

“Then here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna kiss me, and every little moan that you make, every little sigh that escapes those pouting, feminine lips is for me and for me only. You got that, Martha?”

I was going to go crazy if he didn’t kiss me within the next second. “Yes,” I murmured, staring at his mouth.

“I swear to God, Newbie, you are such a gir--”

I didn’t wait for him to finish ranting. Instead, I grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him, kissed him hard, parting my lips and brushing his upper lip with my tongue. I slipped my tongue into his mouth and cried out when Dr. Cox slammed me back against the wall, his hands going to my ass and his teeth nipping hungrily at my lip. I moaned into his mouth as he slid his hands smoothly up my shirt, up my back, then back down. His hands settled on my hips, his grip strong and almost bruising. He used his entire upper body to shove me even harder back against the wall, and I let loose a small whimper that certainly didn’t sound manly.

“Can’t take the heat there, Newbie?” Cox whispered against my mouth.

With a whole lot of force, he pulled my lower body right up against his. My breath caught in my throat.

“Then stay the hell out of Cox’s kitchen.”

He moved against me, holding me still with his hands, creating a friction that became so good and so unbearable that I was writhing against him, trying to break free so I could make him go faster. When I tried to move my hands to his waist, though, he let go of my hip with his left hand and grabbed both of mine, pinning them above my head. I stared at him, realizing Dr. Cox had me fully under his control. He grinned.

“We’re gonna do this my way, Newbie. And I say…” he leaned forward, kissed the soft spot just below my ear, and whispered, “moan for me.” He thrust against me, his thigh brushing against my erection.

I did moan.

“That’s a good Newbie,” Dr. Cox murmured. He kissed me, deeply and passionately, and I murmured into his mouth. I parted my lips more for him and bucked slightly when he brushed his tongue over my lips and used his free hand to tease me through my scrubs.

“Oh, God…” I whispered again, this time the words barely coherent.

“Surprise, surprise, there, Marcia--I’m not God.” Cox grinned, slowly sliding his hand over my erection, giving a little squeeze so I gave a small whimper of need. “Although I am flattered you think of me that way.”

“Dr. Cox…please…” I forced out.

His fingers slipped down into my scrubs and I arched back against the wall, lips parted as I tried hard to breathe. He touched me in all the right places and before I knew it he was tearing small, desperate noises from my throat.

“Kiss me, Newbie,” Dr. Cox said softly, and I obliged.

As he touched me, I poured all the need I felt, all that satisfaction building down below, into my kisses. I started at his mouth, panting softly as he stroked, moved to his chin as he did things with his fingertips I’d never felt before but needed to feel again, then his neck, kissing as far down his collarbone as being pinned against the wall permitted.

Dr. Cox caught my mouth with his own and we kissed, hungrily, deeply, and with such longing as he gave another stroke, and I thrust my hips forward, into his hand. I whimpered, cried out, even murmured his name, using the title “Dr.” of course, and each sound I made seemed to make him do things that were each more amazing than the last.

As I thrust forward with each stroke, I let Dr. Cox kiss me, just savored the feel of his soft lips against mine, of his tongue brushing the roof of my mouth, of his hand as it slid down my skin and brought me to my orgasm. I cried out, coming hard into his hand, arching back and trying so hard just to breathe as the feeling of absolute ecstasy slowly faded, and all that was left was a buzz, like one you’d feel after drinking one too many beers, and Dr. Cox’s breath on my neck.

For a long time, neither of us moved.

“You scream loud, Newbie,” Dr. Cox finally said, breaking the silence. I licked my lips and looked at him, my brain not quite functioning yet. “I’ll be surprised if the whole hospital and parking lot and the innocent people on that golf course several miles over that-a-way didn’t hear you.”

Again, my brain thinks and I speak. “I love you, Dr. Cox,” I said.

Damn you, cerebral cortex!

For a moment Dr. Cox looked at me and I could hear another rant coming, probably one where I was called Beyonce or Marcia or something along those lines. But then Dr. Cox said something I never thought I’d hear him say.

“Well, hell, Newbie, don’t you think I at least should buy you dinner first?”

Not that. The next thing he said.

Pause.

“You‘re not so bad yourself, kid.”

I think I’m going to die from a pleasure overload. There are worse ways to go I guess.

“You do realize that if any of what happened up here gets out, you’ll be dead so fast you won’t even have time to say goodbye to that huge collection of Barbie dolls you keep hidden away in your scrubs locker for when you get lonely and have to resort to fantasy-land with Ken to make all your Barbie-girl dreams come true.”

“Yes, sir,” I said quickly.

With one warm, rough brush of his lips against mine, he had turned and was gone.

I guess some things never change, I thought as I left the roof and cleverly managed to duck through the halls and make it to the locker room so I could change my scrubs. Didn’t need anyone asking questions about that, now did we?

Ah, nice comfy clean scrubs.

“Dude!” Turk’s voice came shrill from behind me. “What’s with all the marks on your neck?”

I turned in surprise. Turk’s eyes widened as he saw the rest of Dr. Cox’s handiwork.

“Uh--um--I was rehearsing for a scene in Dr. Acula,” I said without thinking.

Yup. Some thing’s don’t change.

The end