Mrs. Harrington informed Claire that "that nice man I've seen you with lately" had been by just after Claire had left the previous morning.
Claire felt temporarily light-headed. So he had come by. That had to be a good sign....didn't it?
Upon re-entering her condo, Claire took Lucy into the kitchen and fed her. She went to the living room next, and pressed the playback button on her answering machine. The first few messages were from friends, expressing their relief that Gordon had been apprehended. Shortly after the attack, Claire had spoken to several of her girlfriends, explaining why she would be unreachable at home for an unknown amount of time.
There was a message from Mac's oldest son, Roger, asking if she knew of anything Mac and Jeannine needed for Christmas. Another was from the owner of an antique store, telling her that he'd just acquired something similar to what she'd been inquiring about for her boyfriend's Christmas present.
And then:
"Claire....it's Jack....I.... I would have called last night, but I didn't check my machine until this morning. As soon as I got your messages, I rushed over to your place. I banged on your door, and Mrs. Harrington came out of her condo. She told me you'd gone someplace for the weekend. I tried paging you. I tried about a dozen times. Why haven't you returned any of them? Even if you're angry with me for not calling last night....just....call me."
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
The next one was Jack again.
"Claire...it's Sunday evening. Look...just call me. We need to talk."
She picked up her cordless phone and dialed Jack's number.
She got the answering machine, and suddenly felt on the verge of bursting either into tears, or into a fit of laughter.
She did neither, but instead left the following message:
"Jack...I just got your messages. This is ridiculous. If we're ever going to talk, one of us needs to stay in one place for more than 5 minutes. I would have answered your pages, but I didn't bring my pager with me. I was at my mother's, and I wanted to make sure work couldn't intrude. I needed to shed the mantle of ADA for the weekend." She let out a short, wry laugh, and finished with, "Call me when you get in...I promise I won't go anywhere until I leave for work in the morning."
She clicked the phone off and strode down the hall into her bedroom, and on through into the bathroom, where she drew herself a much desired bath.
She soaked for half an hour before pulling the plug from the drain. After drying off, she slipped into a pair of comfortable flannel pajamas and warm, woolly socks, and headed for her living room.
She sat on the couch, tucked her feet beneath her, reached for the remote control, and turned on the television. She flipped through the channels, eventually setting on "Thelma and Louise", which she had seen before, but had liked enough to watch again.
Not very far into the movie, there was a knock on her door. She went and looked out the peep-hole.
Jack! Claire felt a tingle run down her spine. She hurriedly undid the chain and deadbolt, and opened the door.
"Hi," she said, smiling, and leaned against the frame of the door.
"Hi," he replied, his somber expression breaking into a smile just as wide as hers. "I got your messages."
"I got yours, too," she told him. "About the pages..."
"Forget about it," he said. "I figured you must have left your pager. I decided that you would have called me back if you had gotten them, even if it was just to tell me to go to hell." He paused. "I decided to try coming by again. If you hadn't been home, I was going to sit in front of your door and wait."
"I didn't think Jack McCoy waited for anybody," she teased.
"I don't," he replied. "But for you I was prepared to make the odd exception."
He moved closer to her, and rested his right palm against the door frame, just above her head. With his left hand, he reached up and brushed back a few whisps of hair that had fallen from the bun she'd pinned her hair into prior to her bath.
"I got your messages," he told her again, softly, his eyes boring into hers.
"Those eyes!" she thought to herself, letting herself get lost in them for a moment before saying, "You already said that...." a little more breathlessly than she'd intended.
"Did I?" he all but whispered.
Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her head back and leaned down to kiss her.
He paused an inch form her face, and she could feel his warm breath on her lips as he said, "Before I forget...I brought you something."
"You did?" she smiled. "What is it?"
He pulled her into the hallway and turning his head to the right, said, "That."
It was a Christmas tree, leaning against the wall. When he stood it up straight, it was a good foot taller than he was.
"Jack!" she exclaimed. "How on earth did you manage to get this here on your bike?"
"The same way Santa Claus fits own all those chimneys," he remarked, his voice laden with an air of mystery, "magic."
The way he was looking at her, she could almost believe him.
"Seriously though...how?"
"I paid them to deliver it, and I followed along behind them on the bike."
"No one has ever given me a tree before," she said as she reached down to grasp his hand. She squeezed as she said, "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he replied, squeezing back. "Do you have the trimmings?"
"There's a tree stand and a big box of Christmas decorations of my grandmother's on a shelf in the closet of one of the spare rooms," she told him. "Let's get this thing inside."
They brought the tree inside and placed it in the corner of the living room, by the windows. Jack helped her retrieve the stand and the box of ornaments. When the tree was in the stand, Claire filled it with water and draped the red velvet skirt with white tassels over it. Jack opened the box, pulled out several stands of white twinkle lights, unraveled and tested them. All but one strand were functional.
"Don't put any too low," Claire requested as he began to string the lights. "Lucy's never seen a Christmas tree before, and I don't want her to be able to reach the lights...she might pull the tree over, or worse....electrocute herself," she finished with a shudder.
"No problem, babe." They finished decorating the tree in short order. When they were done, Claire flicked off the living room light so that they might admire their handiwork. The tree, with it's white twinkle bulbs, crystal ornaments, and gold, silver, and pearlescent balls, was a breathtaking sight.
Jack heard Claire sniff, looked over at her, and caught a tear sneaking it's way down her cheek.
He reached over and pulled her into his arms. "What is it?" he asked.
"I, um....I didn't put a tree up in here last year. I couldn't bring myself to do it so soon after my grandmother passed away," she said, reaching to wipe her tears away. "It's sad to see the tree just the way she would have decorated it."
"You two were very close?"
"Closer to her than anybody."
"Then I wish I could have known her."
"So do I," she said, smiling up at him. "She would have loved you."
"Despite my advanced years?" it was a little mean, he knew, but he only said it to see what kind of reaction he'd get from her.
"Look, Jack," she began, "I'm sorry about the other night. I don't know what my problem was...well, that's not entirely true.....I was just trying to come up with any way to get you off my back about my mother. I....said some things I shouldn't have said. Some things I didn't really mean. My only excuse being that I've been trying for so long to please my mother, with so little success, I just didn't want to have to face her disappointment again." She paused for a moment, and laid her head against his chest. He felt, rather than heard or saw her take a few deep breaths. "I'm so sorry, Jack...I acted just like the child I've been fighting for so long to prove to my mother I'm not."
He reached up to stroke her hair. "It's alright, Claire... I could have been more understanding. I also said some things I didn't mean... I didn't need to insult you just because I was pissed off."
"So, I'm forgiven?" she inquired, looking up at him.
"You are," he said. "Am I?"
"Yes!" she replied. "AND you've been formally invited to spend Christmas day with my family. Courtesy of my mother."
"You told her!" He exclaimed. "When?" "Practically as soon as I got to her house yesterday morning," she confessed. "And for all my bellyaching, I'm afraid I didn't do it very tactfully."
"What did you say?"
She told him about the revelation she'd had while sitting in her old room waiting for breakfast, and how she had come to the realisation that it was time, once and for all, to make her mother see her as an adult capable of making informed decisions. She told him, also, about how Mac had expressed the desire to invite Jack to dinner in order to show their gratitude for his having saved Claire's life, as well as his subsequent kindness.
"To which I replied, something to the effect that I'd already thanked you enough for all 3 of us. Mac was amused. Mom got angry, as I had expected. We argued back and forth for a while, until Mac put a stop to it. He spoke to her alone for some time. I don't know what he said, but the up shot is that my mother has agreed not to meddle in my affairs anymore. The change in her since their conversation is so drastic, for a while I was sure she must have been replaced by some sort of pod person. I'm still not quite sure what to expect from her on Christmas Day, but...." She paused....he hadn't actually agreed to come yet. A little worried, she asked, "You don't already have plans, do you?"
"Nope."
"Good," she said, and hugged him.
Her head was turned toward the tree, and she grew sad again, and said nothing for a few moments. Jack moved back a bit and looked down at her. He saw her looking at the tree with a tinge of sadness in his eyes, and it pained him.
"Hey....you going to be okay with that thing in here?"
She looked up at him and nodded, her lower lip and chin quivering slightly with the effort to hold back tears.
"Hey..." he soothed, taking her faced in his hands. "C'mere."
He kissed her forehead, her eyes, which were wet with the tears she did not shed, the tip of her nose, and finally, very gently, her lips. It was electric. He brought his lips down on hers harder, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
It had only been two days since their fight, but those two days had passed with an agonising slowness for both. "God I missed you," she whispered against his lips. "I thought I'd ruined things for sure, and I couldn't bear it."
"It's going to take a lot more than one stupid fight to get rid of me, lady," he kissed her again, passionately, before tearing his mouth away from hers to catch a breath. He pulled her into a hug, and said, "You know...I couldn't sleep in my own bed on Friday might because of you."
"Why not?"
"I could smell you all over my sheets, and it drove me crazy, especially not knowing if I'd ever hold you in my arms again. I did nothing but think of you all weekend," he told her honestly. "I just can't get you out of my mind."
"I know I'm up here, Jack," she said, tapping a finger against his temple. She lowered her hand to lay her palm over his heart. "I want to be here, too."
He lifted the hand she'd pressed against his heart, and lightly kissed her fingertips, saying, "You are, Claire. You are."
They kissed again. Claire's hands toyed with Jack's hair, and he began to stroke her back. With one hand, he reached up, pulled the scrunchie from her hair, and tangled his fingers in her it. Tilting her head back, he effectively exposed her neck. He lowered his lips to the hollow at the base of her throat.
In a series of light, feathery kissed, he worked his way back to her mouth. Against her lips he whispered, "I got your messages."
This time, she didn't remind her that he'd already told her that, but instead returned his kisses with matching fervour. When several moments had passed, they eased apart, and with a sigh, Jack hugged her close.
"Claire..." he said into her hair, "Did you mean what you said?"
"When?"
"On Friday night...on my machine. In your last message."
"Oh..." she said. "That."
"Yeah," he replied, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "That."
Claire cupped his face and kissed him hard on the mouth. "I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't meant it.
The smile broke. "Say it again, Claire."
"I...I love you, Jack."
A wave of pleasure passed through his body. He lifted her up and spun them around, laughing so happily Claire could have sworn he was giggling. Hearing those words pass over her lips as she stared deep into his eyes, Jack felt as if Claire had just given him the most precious gift imaginable.
He set her down and looked down at her, his smile so huge he was sure she must have thought he was grinning like an idiot. Giddy was not a word she normally would have associated with Jack McCoy, but that's exactly how he looked. He still held her in his arms. He squeezed her tightly to him and buried his face against her neck. His breath was warm against her skin. When he pulled back and looked down at her again, his expression had grown quite serious.
He held her face in his hands and said, "I love you too, Claire Kincaid. I love you as I never dreamed I'd love anybody."
Claire felt her heart skip. She had suspected...but hearing him say it was an altogether different proposition. He had gone from boss, to friend, to lover, to love in a short period of time, and Claire cherished each aspect of their relationship.
She kissed him then, not closing her eyes. His eyes remained open, as well, as their lips attempted to express to one another the depth of their feelings for each other. She ran her hands down his sides, and when she met the bottom of the sweater he was wearing, she began to draw it up. He lifted his arms above his head and helped her remove the sweater.
Claire's hands went to the buttons on his white Oxford. They stared into each other's eyes as her fingers manipulated the buttons. Half way down the shirt, Jack grabbed her wrists, pulled her to him, and kissed her.
She sighed happily into his lips. He released her wrists and their arms went round each other. When at last they came up for air, Claire, eyes shining bright and cheeks flushed with emotion, took Jack's hand and led him down the hall to her bedroom.
As they neared the bed, Jack pulled Claire to him once more, bent down a little, and scooped he into his arms. He continued to the bed, knelt on it with one knee, and laid her out against her comforter.
Claire's hands reached for the buttons on his shirt again, as he came down over her. He paused when she had all the buttons undone, removed the shirt, and tossed it aside. She stroked his chest and abdomen as one of his hands went to work on the buttons of the flannel pyjama top she wore. The last button undone, he laid his palm on her skin, just below the base of her throat. His fingers trailed lightly down her chest, the valley between her breast, to her abdomen, and back up again.
With one arm, he lifted her slightly and peeled the pyjama top from her shoulders, tossing it in the same direction as his shirt. He lowered her again, and slid his hands down her sides. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, and made to remove them from her. She lifted her hips slightly to help him, and he eased them off of her.
Her hands tugged at his belt, then the button of his jeans, and then the zipper. He gently lowered himself on top of her, and she slid her hands down his sides: slid them inside his open pants, over his hips. She slid her hands to his waist again, and this time, when she slid them down, she slipped them beneath his boxers.
Jack inhaled sharply as she lightly drug her nails over his behind. She pulled her hands free, and began to push his jeans and boxers down over his hips. He left her for a moment, to finish taking his pants off.
When he returned, he lay beside her and pulled her into his arms.
"You know something, Jack?" she whispered, tracing his thigh with a finger tip.
He was kissing her neck, but paused long enough to say, low, "What's that?" "
There IS one advantage to fighting..."
He slowly pulled his head away from her, and catching the look in her eye, said, "Making up?"
She smiled, kissed him, and murmured, "Exactly."
Claire pushed Jack onto his back and slid on top of him. She leaned over to kiss him, and her hair fell forward, creating a curtain around them. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and bent to lavish his neck with long, moist kisses.
He sighed and lightly stroked her back, sending shivers down her spine. Claire kissed her way to the side of his face, and over to his earlobe, which she gently bit. Jack's hands slid lower, until he was squeezing her behind.
"Claire...." he groaned as she pressed herself down against him and brought her mouth to his.
She kissed him, hard, darting her tongue out to slip in between his parted lips. Her tongue found his, and soon they abandoned themselves to the rush of feeling enveloping them.
His hands came to rest on her hips as she raised herself away from him slightly, to look down into his eyes. He glided his hands up her sides, and they came up to her breasts. She moaned softly as he began to stroke and knead them. Jack took great pleasure in the way his touch always seemed to ignite something almost wild in Claire.
Jack raised his head to capture a nipple between his lips, and was thrilled when a soft cry escaped her. He slipped a hand between them, and delighted as another cry escaped her, this one louder than the first. He reached for the drawer to her bedside table, then rolled her beneath him.
God! how he wanted her. He knew she wanted him. It was more than the mere physical connection they were after. There was that, of course, but it was more. They had expressed their love for one another such a short time ago that the words still echoed through their minds.
"My love," he murmured against her soft cheek as he slid, inch by slow wonderful inch, into her.
She called his name and squeezed him down against her. He slipped his hands underneath her arms, and slid them up to tangle in her hair. She began to move her hips against him, but with a whisper, he stilled her.
"Don't move just yet," he said softly.
She closed her eyes and attempted to gain control of the desire coursing through her body.
"I want..." she said, voice strained, "I can't...."
"Shhh," he whispered, and kissed her deeply, "Look at me, Claire."
Her eyes fluttered open, and he saw such passion there, such love.
"I adore you," he told her.
"I love you, Jack." She kissed his neck. "Love you....This is so perfect...so right. You make me feel things I've never felt...never even imagined I could."
He gazed down into her eyes, and saw that there were tears there. If he hadn't been on the verge of tears himself, he might have thought something was wrong. He understood that they were tears borne of happiness, and they mirrored the elation he felt.
He rolled to his side, pulling her with him, and drew her leg up so that her inner thigh rested against his hip. They never broke eye contact.
He was still within her, still not moving, when he said, "You mean the world to me, Claire. I can say that... tell you I love you, but it isn't sufficient. Words aren't enough. I can show you, like this...in other ways....if you'll let me."
She nodded her consent.
"I may get moody, may say ugly things, and push you away...but, please, don't listen...don't go.."
"Jack, I..."
"Shhhhhh... please... I need to say these things to you, now, when there are no barriers between us."
She touched her hand to his cheek and nodded.
"I don't think I'll ever understand how I got lucky enough to have you love me," he continued quietly, "God knows I've never done anything to deserve you, but I'm going to try. God, I feel like we're rushing, that I've fallen too far, too fast, and it scares the hell out of me. But along with that goes the realisation that I'm not getting any younger. I can't afford to waste time when I feel the way I do. I love you in a way I never thought existed, and I can't think of anything that would ever change that," here, he paused, and averted his eyes. "All I ask is that you love me a little, if you can, and let me love you. I'd be content with that much."
She took his face in her hands, and forced him to look at her. There were tears in his eyes, and hers. "Where does all this self-loathing come from, Jack? What's happened to you that you feel you don't deserve to be loved? Why shouldn't I love you with everything I have? Because I do, you know, rushing or no."
He opened his mouth to say something, but she placed her finger against his lips.
"Shhh, you don't have to answer now. Someday...when you're ready to face your demons....then you can tell me. I'll be there with you, like you have been for me through this ordeal. I love you, Jack McCoy... and I could never love someone who didn't deserve it."
"Thank you, my darling," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion.
With one hand, he reached for her leg while the other went up to lightly grip the back of her neck. He pulled her closer, as close as he could, and kissed her, their tears mingling on the blanket beneath them.
At last, he withdrew from her slightly, then thrust forward again. Low moans escaped them both as they began to move together. It was a consummation, an affirmation of the words of love and affection they had just uttered.
They kissed and touched each other as they made love slowly, gently, murmuring names and terms of affection, until, at long last, their hands and mouths became frenzied as the demands of their bodies became more urgent. They cried out in unison, slipping into a vortex of pleasure unlike anything either of them had ever known.
They remained still, silently clinging to each other for a long while, afraid to move for fear of breaking whatever spell it was that had surrounded them. Eventually, they eased apart having grown cold lying naked and damp on top of the covers.
Jack got up and went into the bathroom. Claire pulled the covers back. When Jack emerged, Claire moved to go into the bathroom, but he intercepted her, and pulled her in for a kiss.
He released her, and she entered the bathroom. When she returned, Jack had gotten into her bed. She crawled in next to him, and snuggled close. They didn't make love again, but kissed and touched one another until they fell asleep in each other's arms, content, secure, in love.
*****
Some time later, Jack woke up. Claire's head was nestled in the crook of his shoulder. He kissed her head, then turned to look at the alarm clock. 2 am.
He shook Claire gently.
"Claire?"
"Hmmmmm?"
"Babe, I..."
"Mmmmm, Jack..." she said huskily, still caught somewhere between sleep and the waking world, "I was having the most wonderful dream...."
"No more nightmares?" he asked.
Through the fog of half-sleep, she understood what he meant.
"Jack, how did you..." she began, then it dawned on her, "Liz."
"You spoke to Olivet?" he asked.
"Mmmhmm, this afternoon. We had lunch," Claire told him. "I'm a little shocked she told you about my dreams."
"Claire, I didn't need Liz Olivet to tell me you were having nightmares."
"Then how did you know?"
"I slept in the same bed with you for a week, Claire. I'm not a heavy sleeper. Don't you think I noticed every time you thrashed about, or jerked awake?"
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I wanted to let you come to me with it."
"God they were so awful, Jack," she said, shuddering, and snuggling closer to him.
"I know, baby, I know," he murmured into her hair.
They were silent for a time, until Claire asked, "What?"
"Hmmm?" Jack responded, perplexed.
"You woke me.....I assume it wasn't just to tell me you knew I'd been having nightmares."
"Listen, Claire...I have to go home. I didn't bring anything I need for work tomorrow."
She nodded. "Okay," she said. "Right now?"
"I should, before...."
She interrupted him with a kiss.
"Well, maybe I cant stay a little longer."
He returned the kiss.
"So....are you going to tell me about this wonderful dream I interrupted?"
She shook her head. "But I'll show you..."
Her hand fluttered over his stomach, then lower, and Jack groaned into her hair.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she asked, seductively, staring at him intently.
He nodded, and groaned again as she increased the pressure of her hand. He succumbed for a few moments, then grabbed her hand and whispered hoarsely, "Enough."
Before she knew what was happening, he had rolled her to her back. He came over her and pinioned her body to the bed with his own. He kissed her neck, then moved lower, to lavish her breasts with his lips and tongue. He kissed lower, and lower still, until he was kissing the soft, silky skin of her inner thigh. Finally, he lowered his head between her thighs.
Claire gasped with the pleasure, and pushed his face harder against her. She arched her back as he pushed her higher, and higher. He drove her to the edge of fulfillment, then stopped.
Her breath was coming hard and fast, and he adjusted himself so that he was lying on his back next to her. He turned slightly, and reached for the nightstand drawer, then rolled to his back again, and pulled her astride him, saying "Make love to me, Claire."
She did so, eagerly, lovingly. She stroked and kissed his chest as she loved him. His hands played maddeningly with her breasts, and alternately, her behind.
She reached the brink of fulfillment as he shuddered his release within her, and cried, "I love you."
This sent Claire spiraling over the edge, and she collapsed on his chest.
He stroked her hair and held her close until their breathing slowed. She rolled off of him, and he turned to his side, facing her. She laid her cheek against his heart, and listened to its rhythmic beating.
He lay with her until he was sure she slept again, then got up, dressed, stroked her hair and kissed her lightly, and made to leave. On his way out, he encountered Lucy in the hallway. He scooped her up, and petted her for a few moments, He nuzzled her fur and said, "Be a good cat and go sleep with Claire," before letting her down to the floor.
He watched until she disappeared into Claire's bedroom, then turned, and headed out the door.
*****
When Claire awoke later that morning, she shut off the buzzing alarm, and smiled to herself at the memory of what had passed between her and Jack so few hours before.
They were in love, and she prayed, though prayer was not something she generally resorted to, that nothing would ever change that.
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