She beat him to it. "What do you tell her, Jor?"

He shook his head again, the implication of her bitterness finally working its way past his oblivious confusion, and he met her cold eyes and finally understood what was inside. She was jealous. She was jealous, and it would have gratified him if he hadn't been murderously jealous of her and Dominic all on his own. That thought was enough to set him back, and he tried to imagine her imagining him with Lei. It was almost funny in that it wasn't funny at all, given the situation and her anger over his partner, and Jor sighed.

"So that's what you think. That I'm with Lei. Is that it?" She didn't have to say a word; her expression was answer enough, and he pushed away from his desk, paced around his room, a hand on the back of his neck as he tried to think of something tactful to say and came up with nothing. "You think I'm sleeping with Lei."

"I believe you," she said roughly, and slowly calmed herself down. "I believe you," she repeated softly, and looked toward the door, wondering if she should leave now, before she cost herself any ground they might have gained.

Jor was too tired to lie, and too desperate to look away. He watched her stare at the door, and wanted to stop her, but couldn't bring himself to touch her. "She was nothing like you. She-- it doesn't matter. I couldn't stand it. I did it because... because I thought I could forget you. I thought I could forget us."

She continued to look at the door, and he slammed a fist against his desk, making everything jump. She jumped too, and Jor strode angrily to the window, keeping his back to her. He refused to turn around to see her hatred for him. She must be hating him.

"Isn't this the part in our conversation where you remind me that you hate me, and never want to see me again?"

The sad current in her voice kept him silent as he stared blindly out the window. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard her sad. Angry, yes. Hurt, furious, spiteful, bitter... and longer still since he'd heard her happy. But never sad. It made him feel tired, and old, and he had to rest a hand against the edge of the window to steady himself.

"I don't know," she whispered, and he nodded, and looked as if he were going to say something, but she spoke first.

But I could never hate you. I can hate myself, and everyone else, but never you. For some reason you could do anything, and it just wouldn't matter anymore.

He moved toward her, despite himself, and she automatically took a step back. That little motion reminded him of all he'd done, and it was his turn to look sad as he bent his head to look at her more closely. She still had faded remnants of bruises on her skin, and Jor sighed and turned away again.

"I'll go away, if that's what you want. If it'll make you happy. I just wanted to see you again."

Then she touched him.

It was barely contact, but he was hyperaware of any movement, and the feel of her fingertips on his back made him release a breath he hadn't known he was holding. She pulled away, and he sighed and slowly, very slowly, turned to look down at her. He didn't want to scare her. He didn't want to startle her. She looked ready to flee at any moment, but he couldn't stop himself, and reached out to her.

She had plenty of time to move away, to repel him, he made sure of that, but she held perfectly still as he carefully wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to his chest. Neither of them said anything. Neither of them moved to do more. But for a moment, it seemed right, and then Jor released her and stepped away, because if he held her any longer he'd never be able to let her go.

"I'm sorry, Wick."

She searched his face frantically and found that it was true, and she took a step back in a vain attempt to escape it.

He's never apologized to me. For anything. Ever. He wasn't supposed to apologize. He wasn't supposed to cave. He was supposed to outwait me. I wouldn't have lasted much longer.

But look at him. He is sorry. If this were a game, he would be cheating. She blinked helplessly up at him, unable to look away, and realized what she'd just decided.

This is not a game.

He made no further move to clasp her again or touch her in any way, and she hovered there on the edge. To make a concession now would be to say that she'd been wrong, that some of what had happened upon his return had been her fault, and that wasn't something she was ready to tolerate, but to ignore his apology...there would be no healing after that, and she knew now, without doubt, that was something she wouldn't survive.

She closed the door behind her with a nearly inaudible click, but the sound was enough to break his trance. His shoulders sagged and he rubbed his hands helplessly over his face, trying not follow her, trying to ignore what it had felt like to hold her again, and he just barely succeeded. Her quiet footsteps faded down the hallway, and he didn't once move, not until he was certain she was gone.

Only then did he sit down and begin to breathe again, deep labored breaths to calm his heart, which still insisted on beating like a jackhammer in his chest. He hadn't been that close to her since their night together weeks ago, but it had been different this time. Still the bitterness, still the distrust, but for once neither had been deliberately cruel, and it was almost a sort of tentative peace.

Peace?

You didn't tell me that you hated me, Wick. You didn't tell me to leave.

He smiled to himself, faintly, at that realization, and hope filled him. Perhaps she didn't hate him. Perhaps wouldn't ask him to leave. Perhaps she would let him stay, and repent, and prove himself.

That night, when he went downstairs for dinner, she was seated at the table.

A little over a month after their confrontation in Jor's room, she woke up in the very early hours of the morning to the chime of her room line. She glanced at the clock and then wearily extricated an arm from the blankets to lift the receiver.

"...yes?"

"I see you're not up."

"It's three a.m., Adrian. I do occasionally sleep."

"What did you get your husband for his birthday?"

"What?"

"His birthday. It's today, you know."

"What?"

There was a sigh. "It's a foregone conclusion that if you don't intend to divorce your husband, some sort of gift is in order on his birthday."

"Oh."

"I see you have things well in hand."

The line went dead, and Wick stared stupidly at the receiver in her hand and then dumped it back into the cradle and burrowed back into her bedclothing. She'd been aware that Jor's birthday was approaching in the same fashion that she was aware of other major dates, but she'd been too involved with her work to notice the days slipping past. She'd given a great many scattered moments of thought to deciding what to get him, but now that she was faced with immediate necessity her mind was completely blank.

What do I give him? What can I give him? Nothing too personal. It wouldn't...wouldn't be appropriate. She didn't want to admit to herself that she didn't yet know him well enough to choose something he might like now. Almost all her personal information on him was over two years old, and there was nothing he'd taught her about himself recently that brought about any gift ideas.

She lay in the dark and thought for a long time before it came to her, and then she woke Frederick, who took being awakened at too early an hour far better than she had.

"It has to be done by dinner time. No later."

"Yes, miss."

"And quietly. Wait until he's gone. That's enough time, isn't it?"

"Yes, miss."

"Happy birthday, Windhaven. Nice hat."

"Thanks." Jor waved a hand to acknowledge the greeting and went back to his conversation with Lei. "Anyway, as I was saying, we did manage to get a good, clear shot fro--"

"Heeeeeeey, Jor! They say it's your birthday!"

Another interruption. Jor looked over his shoulder to the man in the doorway and smiled tolerantly. "Yeah, that's right, Jay. Thanks."

"No prob, bro. Happy birthday."

"Where was I?" He had to gather his thoughts again, but Lei nodded at him encouragingly, and he continued. "Oh. So we got a good shot and when we took it in to the witnesses, they were able to point ou--"

"Happy fucking birthday, Windhaven, you fuck!"

In the last twenty minutes Jor had been interrupted at least fifteen times, and at this newest interruption he slammed the dossier in front of him closed in disgust and sighed. "I give up... Christ, Lei, did you tell the whole office it was my birthday?"

Lei just grinned. "You betcha, baby."

Before Lei had sent an office-wide email announcing his birthday, Jor had been having a relatively peaceful day. A peaceful week, even, and almost an entire month; since his conversation with Wick, life had been... good. Not perfect, but after fighting for so long they were slowly beginning to slip into a comfortable coexistence, and things were even becoming friendly between them. They dined together, talked a little, and at the end of the day, Jor could look forward to going home to Wick.

He hadn't been expecting a big show; soldiers who were raised in the schools had never had time for birthdays, for holidays, for vacations. Once they came back to Earth, however, those same soldiers wholeheartedly embraced such traditions, and Jor hadn't been Earthside long enough to realize just how important previously-disregarded holidays were.

But now he realized. Now he understood.

He'd come into the office in the morning to find an outrageously gaudy balloon bouquet floating happily over his desk, accompanied by bright pink flowers and the ugliest, most sentimental card he'd ever read. That was only the beginning. Since then he'd received more cards than he could count, four boxes of candy, an unidentifiable stuffed animal with "Jor" embroidered on its stomach, and a cardboard crown complete with feathers and his age drawn on construction paper. To make matters worse, he was "required" to wear the crown as part of his "official uniform," and there was no end of teasing. Jor sincerely hoped that it wouldn't get any worse.

Lei had other plans. "You ready to go? Boss-man is letting us out early for your birthday dinner."

"...birthday dinner? You mean this isn't over yet?"

"Ha!" She snorted at him, and Jor, resplendent in his feathered crown and balloon bouquet, despaired. "Leilei... it isn't bad, is it? You wouldn't do something bad to your Jorjor on his birthday, would you?"

She pretended to think. "Well... give me your definition of 'bad.'"

"Shit."

"Let's go, birthday boy."

The entire restaurant was overrun by M.E. officers when he and Lei arrived, and Jor couldn't decide whether to feel grateful for the gesture or to just run and hide before they saw him. He didn't have long to decide.

A general outcry of "There he is!" quickly let him know that hiding was no long an option, and Jor found himself grinning like a madman before he knew it. People came over and started talking to him immediately, shaking his hand, pounding him on the back, teasing him about the crown. In less than a minute he had a drink in one hand and, well, another drink in the other, surrounded by his closest friends and having the first birthday party he could ever remember.

It was, for lack of a better word, amazing.

There was dinner, where everyone sat around talking, drinking, swapping stories and telling jokes. There was dessert, complete with a cake, where Lei got up on her chair and gave a long, drawn-out, extremely elaborate and rather inebriated toast to Jor. Then there was, as Lei described it, "the ultimate surprise," where Jor was made to close his eyes while they escorted him, en masse, out to the parking lot for his birthday present.

He couldn't quite believe his eyes when they finally let him look. All of this had been unexpected-- the celebration, the dinner, the cake, the party-- but this was beyond anything he could have hoped for. He couldn't even figure out how they'd known, and everyone waiting for him to speak had to wait a very long time, because Jor was speechless.

"Well, say something, Jorjor!"

"Look at his face. I think he just wet himself."

"Damn! I hope my partner ponies up and gets me something that fuckin' great for my birthday next month."

"...don't count on it, Raz. Bentham's much nicer than I am."

"Anyone got a napkin? He's drooling on his uniform."

"Wow, that's pretty jazzy. I didn't know you rode, Windhaven."

"He must be riding something, for Bentham to get him that for a present."

Jor ignored them all and stepped forward. His bike. Lei had gotten him his bike, the same one he'd had in Maui, the same one he'd bought on his first shore leave. It was just as perfect as he remembered it being, and it wasn't until Lei came up and hugged him that he managed to say something.

"...I can't believe you did this, Leilei."

"Yeah, well, I'm your pal. What're partners for?"

"How'd you manage to get it? I mean, it was at my parents."

"Oh, that." She grinned and hugged him tighter. "I just called and pretended I was your wife. They were pretty understanding."

My wife.

"Wick! Shit, what time is it? She didn't say anything about plans, but I was planning on spending time with her tonight after work and--"

"It's only nineteen hundred. If you hurry, you can get there in half an hour or so. I know your baby pegs out at one-fifty, but try not to drive that fast, neh?"

Jor hugged her back and looked around at the assembly of officers. "Thanks, guys. I can't remember the last time I had a birthday party... although, I could have done without the crown."

"But it was the best part!"

"Nothing doing, Windhaven. Get home to your old lady."

"Yeah, most of us didn't really want to stay this late anyway. We were just humoring Lei, after she threatened us if we didn't show up."

"I did not!"

"Happy birthday, Jor."

"Yeah, happy birthday!"

Everyone hooted when he gave Lei a kiss in thanks, and she winked at him before shoving him in the direction of his bike. He didn't have to say how grateful he was, and she didn't have to say anything, either, because she already knew. He managed his goodbyes relatively quickly before climbing on his bike and heading for the highway, his departure accompanied by loud cheers and a few whistles.

This was the best birthday ever.

The trip from New Orleans to Baton Rouge was long, but being on his bike again made it seem impossibly short. The wind was warm on his face as he drove, always too fast, always too daring, skidding around corners and relishing the freedom, and before he knew it the gate to their estate came into view, and Jor was home.

He drove right up to the front steps and revved the engine loudly, wanting Wick to come see. It took a few minutes of pulling u-turns and making donuts in the grass before she finally looked out the front door, and Jor was so excited that he jumped off his bike and ran up to her. He didn't even think as he swept her up and whirled her around, his excitement too much for him to contain, and her face was as surprised as his was ecstatic as he ushered her down the steps and to his bike.

~~~

Wick waited at the dinner table for almost an hour before she gave up the hope of Jordan coming home and had the food put away.

I don't know why I thought he'd come home. Why should he?

But she had expected him to come home, and she felt foolish for the preparations she'd made. Feeling foolish made her angry, at him for his absence and at herself for being so upset by it.

For the last month, Jordan had been courting her. That's what it had to be, courting; he never asked for anything but her opinion, and he was never late coming home. Their dinners together had become pleasant, something she looked forward to instead of dreading. Her husband slept in his own rooms and left her alone, and if she sought him out for conversation he indulged her and then let her retreat. He showed restraint, and that made her respect him. It was a side of Jor she'd never seen, and she hadn't realized how re-attached she'd grown until now.

Wick reasoned with herself and brought her anger to heel. It was hardly fair to expect him to come home if he wanted to celebrate. Spending time with her had to be taxing. He deserved a break from his effort, didn't he?

And Wick replied silently, No.

Angry, miserable and resigned, she went to her room and shut the door and went to sit on her balcony, but she'd only been sulking for half an hour when the sound of an engine reached her ears, faintly. She lifted her head and looked toward the front of the house as it grew louder, but she couldn't see anything through the trees.

She was just reaching for the receiver on her house phone when it rang.

~~~

She arrived on the porch in time to see him carve another swath out of the lawn. She was still blinking at the muddy circles and lines in the grass when Jor got off the big black motorcycle and ran toward her, and she didn't have time to take a step back before he was next to her, lifting her with his hands on her waist and spinning in a brief half circle. She went rigid in shock, and he set her down and put his hand on the small of her back, pushing her forward eagerly.

"...just ride around the estate! Isn't this great, spark? C'mon, get on!" Her brain finally started working again, and she sidestepped him and peered up at his face uncertainly. He looked enthusiastic and happy, but that happiness dimmed a little in the face of her apparent indifference.

Say something.

"I didn't think you were coming home," she said haltingly, trying to change emotional gears as her accumulated anger and frustration tried to slink out without being noticed. His smile continued to waver, so she added what she'd wanted to tell him earlier in a shy tone.

She wasn't beaming back.

"I didn't think you were coming home," she finally said, and his ear-to-ear grin faded around the corners. He felt guilty for his truancy, angry at himself for making her angry, and he stared at his boots and tried to think of something to say when she spoke again.

"Happy birthday."

That made him smile again, a brilliant smile, and his uncertainty disappeared in the face of her sincerity. "Thanks," he managed, trying to be enthusiastic, apologetic, and happy all at once. "I didn't mean to be so late, but they took me out for dinner. Is it okay? I came back as soon as I could."

It took her a moment, but she nodded. "It's alright." She didn't say any more after that, and the silence started to grow awkward as Jor shifted a bit from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. He wanted to hug her again, wanted to throw her on his bike and ride around, wanted to kiss her, but he knew better even now, and waited, avoiding her eyes. Eventually she looked up at him again and he held his breath, but she didn't say what he thought she might. "Will you come inside?"

He followed her, careful to wipe his muddy boots on the doormat before clumping into the foyer. She looked over her shoulder at him and he smiled, hurrying to catch up with her, and she began to lead him through the house. Jor had absolutely no idea where they were going. He might have been living in the place for the last few months, but he'd never really taken the time to wander around; he could find his room, and the kitchen, and that seemed sufficient. So when Wick finally opened a door and motioned him inside, he really didn't know what to expect.

And he certainly wasn't expecting what met his eyes.

She seemed a little hesitant, but so was he, and after looking from her to the pool and back again, Jor asked again. "Can I swim?"

Yes. Something. Leave it at that. But which something is it that I'm afraid of?

She closed her eyes and saw Jor, shaking with rage, his hands tightening into huge fists. No. Not that one. I haven't done anything wrong.

Behind her eyelids, the door to her suite hung precariously on a single hinge. No. Not that.

She opened her eyes and looked at Jor, and saw herself kissing him of her own volition. ...that. That's what I'm afraid of. I'm not ready to let go of my pain yet, Jordan. Not yet. I need time. I need-

"I'll go get my suit! Real quick!"

Once out of sight he actually ran, too occupied with thoughts of water and thoughts of Wick to walk slowly. His door slammed open, and it was a funny sight, to see Jor hopping on one foot as he tried to pull on his swimming trunks as quickly as possible. He fell over, he cursed, he knocked against the desk in his haste and dropped papers everywhere, but he couldn't care less.

The pool was empty and Wick nowhere in sight when he returned, and he tried to wait, but it was like setting cake in front of a child and expecting them not to eat it. He jumped in. Water splashed everywhere and he sank to the bottom of the pool, enjoying the sensation, savoring the weightlessness, and when he finally resurfaced he was breathless and completely, utterly happy.

A noise from behind drew his attention, and Jor turned around quickly to see Wick watching him. He grinned a little guiltily and wiped his face, trying to see through the curls plastered to his head, and she quietly returned his smile.

The suit felt too tight. It wasn't, it was certain, but she wasn't used to such a close fit and it felt confining and uncomfortably revealing at the same time. The tiny faded lines where the skin graft had been applied almost six years ago were barely noticeable, but it felt unseemly to have so much of herself uncovered. Jor had been too distracted by the water to see her approach, but he was looking at her now and it made her want to stand still.

This is ridiculous. This is unsafe. This is not a good idea. But I can handle this.

Her pride undercut her vague apprehension, and she unfolded her arms and let them fall to her sides. Her smile firmed, and she looked speculatively at the water.

So beautiful.

Jor had to shake himself as if from a daze and smiled at her, but it was awkward this time. "C'mon." He motioned toward the pool and backed off, literally, swimming away from her. She looked uncertain, like she needed space between them, and he felt the same way. If she came any closer, he didn't know if he could hold his reserve.

His back was turned when he felt the ripples in the water, and when he looked over his shoulder she was floating there alongside the edge. It reminded him suddenly of Maui, of breathing beneath the surface and playing together in the waves, and his face darkened briefly, but not with anger. The bitterness passed just as quickly, and Jor covered it with a grin and splashed at her.

It was warm, just like he'd promised, and she clung to the side and watched him intently. His swimming trunks were dark green and didn't seem to inhibit his movement. He was still coasting away from her in long easy strokes, and she relaxed enough to move a hand back and forth under the surface to feel the medium. It was unfamiliar but pleasant, rather like a very large bath, and she looked up in time to see him force a smile and send a small wavelet in her direction. "Isn't it nice?" he asked.

He's as nervous as I am.

It should have made her feel calmer, but instead it just made her feel slightly guilty, and she stretched her free hand out under the water to feel the ripples that his disturbance had caused, watching them roll over her fingers before she looked back up at him.

He was watching her, waiting for her to respond, trying to discern her mood. She took a breath and let her hand fall away from the edge as she crouched and immersed herself completely. It was warm and silent under water except for the trickling of the filters, and she came up in the same place, brushing her wet hair back from her forehead, and nodded to him. He said nothing, but for a moment he looked pained. It irritated her for no logical reason, and she gave him a wry smile and then surveyed the distance between them.

When he had retreated to allow her in, he'd moved away from the shallows. Where she stood the water came to just above to bottom of her ribcage. She brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek and began to walk slowly in his direction. The water rose to her shoulders and she stopped.

He'd managed to hold himself in check over the past few weeks. It had taken an enormous amount of effort, but he'd learned his lessons in a very painful fashion, and he wasn't about to lose what little connection between them that he'd somehow regained. She required reserve, needed to keep him at arms' length, and he could do that for her. It seemed only fair.

Now, it didn't seem fair at all. Watching her lithe figure in its little black suit only reminded him of how well she used to fit in his arms. Having her floating in the water before him only a few feet away made him remember other times, other places, and for a moment he had to blink to clear the vision from his eyes. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be here. With his feet on the ground it had been easier to ignore her, easier to pretend that it didn't drive him to distraction every time she was near, but now it wasn't so easy, and beneath the water, Jor's hands turned to fists.

Her voice brought him to attention, and he looked up at her. "I can't go any further," she said, with a hint of discomfort, and Jor stared at her throat and tried to reply.

I can't either, spark. If I move, I'll do something we'll regret, and I couldn't bear for you to hate me again.

His words came out differently. "Why not? It's not so deep."

Not unless he's angry.

She took another defiant-yet-hesitant step toward him and moved to her tiptoes. Another step brought the water just above her chin, and her footing felt increasingly unsteady. She froze and took a step back, slipped and went completely under. She came up spluttering and rubbing her eyes, and then struck the water in Jor's general direction and cast him a baleful glance.

It wasn't until she resurfaced, thrashing about and spitting water, that it occurred to him that maybe he wasn't the source of her discomfort. He was just so accustomed to the water that he couldn't understand other people having problems, but then she splashed at him and frowned, and he finally understood.

"It's too deep for me. A lot of help you are."

You've already shown me, Jordan. Your tenderness, your brutality, your will...everything I ever learned from you I learned from your hands.

She looked up into his eyes. He hadn't been this close to her since their chat in his room, and she could see the months of anxiety and uncertainty in the faint suggestion of lines near his eyes. She became aware of the pulse in his neck, and for a moment she could hear the faint sound of his breathing. Then through the water and the chlorine she caught his scent, diluted by the pool and by the small distance between them, and her heartbeat began to thud too loudly to hear anything else.

Oh, no. No. This isn't fair.

Memories of hundreds of nights she'd spent together with this man rolled over her in a wave, and she swallowed and looked quickly away. She tried to summon the other memories, the ones she knew were there but couldn't quite lay her mental hands on, the ones where he'd injured her, beaten her, almost killed her...but they had been too comfortable around one another lately, he was too close, and it had been too long.

You won't even touch me?

What should he do? He should move away. He should leave. It had been a mistake to even come in here, and he was busy reprimanding himself for being such a fool when he reached out and touched her.

It surprised them both, but she didn't move away, and Jor watched as his hands moved of their own accord. He cupped her face in those hands, traced the line of her jaw with his fingers, and looked into the face he'd dreamed of for the past ten years.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you," he whispered.

I know.

He kissed her, and she melted in slow stages, slowly unstiffening in his embrace. The kiss was soft and gentle - a first kiss. It couldn't have been more different from their first kiss that Jor had stolen so callously when she was twelve and innocent in the realm of kissing, but it was that kind of kiss, the beginning of something new, characterized by hesitancy that would soon give way to demand.

She laid her hand on the bare skin of his chest, but she didn't push him away. She knew she should, but she couldn't. Any moment now, and she would.

I've missed you, Mrs. Windhaven. Oh, how I've missed you.

She put a hand to his chest and he covered it with his own, the other sliding behind her head to slip fingers in her hair. He expected her to pull away at any moment, to repel him, but she made no move to escape, and Jor finally set aside his hesitancy and did what he'd been wanting to do since the moment he'd left.

He kissed her deeply and drew her to him, and he didn't realize how empty his arms had been without her until she was in them once again. His hands caressed up and down her back, ran along her arms, her sides, as if he were mapping her curves all over again, because he was. It had been so long, and unfamiliarity made him careful as he grazed his teeth against her throat and sighed.

The water made her light, buoyant, easy to lift, and he cradled her in strong arms and carried her to more shallow water, never breaking from their kisses as he moved. Her arms were tight around his neck, her knees on either side of his waist, and Jor sat down on the steps leading into the water and held her in his lap. He continued to kiss her, caress her, sliding the straps of her swimsuit down her shoulders and tracing her collarbone with his lips. She made a noise that he took for pleasure, and his kiss turned more demanding, his teeth sinking into her skin to mark her lightly as he'd always done.

"I love you, Wick..."

He was tender and demanding all at once, his kisses gentle on her neck and his fingers insistent across her body. There was none of their usual struggle, and that would have frightened him, would have made him feel as if he were forcing himself upon her, but her response saved him. She writhed and sighed under his touch, and it pushed him further, made him intent on pleasing her and hungry for more.

When he freed them both from their suits and cradled her against his chest, she looked up at him, and he was speechless. He'd meant to say something, to ask permission, perhaps, or tell her how much he loved her, but the depth of emotion in her eyes struck him silent. There was nothing he could say to equal how he felt; instead he lifted her carefully into his lap and kissed her softly as his hands moved to her waist.

He made a noise somewhere between a growl and a whimper as he pulled her down, holding her against him tightly. She could feel his stomach fluttering against hers, and he bowed his head and pressed his lips to her throat. She closed her eyes and put her face into his curls and breathed in, her arms wrapped around his neck, and for a few perfect seconds they were a single creature. She kissed his curls and pressed her cheek against his to whisper his name to him.

Then he lifted her. She clung to him automatically as he turned them, laying her down on the wide stone step he'd been seated on. One arm wrapped around her waist to keep her against him as he used his free hand to push the discarded suits under her head, and then his hands slid across her torso to her hips to hold her still as he began to move.

Jor was warmer than the water she was almost covered by, and far less yielding. At first it was slow, and he moved with a gentle, inescapable rhythm that left little room for her to move beneath him. He knew her better than she knew herself, and he steadily increased his pace in time with her breathing, and when she began to shiver he rewarded her with the fierceness he knew would push her over the edge and take him with her. Her breath caught, her nails digging into his back automatically, and he growled softly against her throat as his pleasure coursed through him and into her.

"I love you," she whispered breathlessly when she'd found her voice again.

And I love you, Moira Windhaven. More than I can tell you, and more than you'll ever know. I love you, and I'll never leave you again, not for any reason. I don't care anymore. I don't care about anything. I just want you.

He crushed her to him and rested his lips on the crown of her head, his hands clutching at her back desperately. For a long time neither of them moved; Wick because she couldn't when he was holding her so tightly, and Jor because his arms refused to let her go.

When he could finally move again it was only to stand and take her with him. He found towels beside the pool and dried them both, covered himself and swathed her in them, then gathered her in his arms like a child and carried her from the room.

"Stay with me," he whispered to her as they made their way to his suite. "Stay." She looked up at him and nodded, and Jor took her back to his bed, shed the towels and nested her into the sheets, and then curled himself around her.

It felt so right.

"I love you, spark." He cradled her close, ran his fingers through her hair, and eventually closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. "I love you."

The next morning she was gone.

He stretched and rolled over, but there was no one beside him, and Jor came awake to look about the room. The only sign that she'd been there at all was her scent on his sheets, and he sighed and rolled over to press his face into his pillow and breathe her in.

Good morning, love.

Eventually he decided that there was nothing else to do but get up. He took a shower, cleaned up the towels on the floor, got dressed. It was so routine that the previous night's events felt slightly unreal, like perhaps he'd been dreaming it, but the memory was too vivid for him to discount as imagination. She'd been there. She'd let him love her. And before Jor left, he looped the chain with its palefire ring around his throat and set out to find her.

She was not at breakfast, and Frederick informed him that she had left the house. Jor waited around for awhile, hoping she'd return, but after noon had come and passed he grew tired of doing nothing, and set off for work. It was a lovely drive on his bike, and the wind helped clear his mind. When he arrived at the office, Lei was waiting to see him, and he worked away the hours until he could see Wick again.

She was not at dinner.

That night he was alone again, staring at the ceiling and wondering where she might be. Hesitance and fear that had been completely absent during their interlude together made itself known again, and Jor began to worry. Perhaps she hadn't wanted it after all. She'd been mostly passive to his advances, and Jor couldn't remember a time when Wick had been passive. He ran over the entire night in his mind, over and over again, trying to decipher her responses, and it increased his fright to immeasurable levels. He didn't sleep a single minute.

The next day she continued to be absent, and Jor was driven to distraction with thoughts of her. He made it to work, but only barely, and after the third time that he fell asleep at his desk Lei took pity on him and drove him to her apartment. She gave him some pills and told him to rest, and in drugged discomfort he managed to sleep a few hours.

Wick was not at dinner that night, either.

By the third day he couldn't stand it any longer, but instead of growing angry or desperate as he had before, he just fell silent. What was done was done. He had tried to love her, tried to be gentle, and there was nothing he could do now. He didn't regret what he'd done, only that she wasn't here with him, and patience that Jor had worked long and hard to earn kept him calm now.

If she meant what she said, she will come back. If she doesn't, then...

He went to work. He did his job. He drove home at a reasonable speed and parked his bike in the garage. He changed from his uniform, ate dinner, worked on his motorcycle a little, then took a shower and climbed into bed. His movements felt automatic, but he was tired, so tired, and there was resigned weariness in his eyes before he closed them and tried to sleep.

The window was open, and the room was cooler than the hallway. She wrapped the thin robe more closely about her and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The canopy became visible first, followed by the posts it rested on. His clothes had been cast onto the floor haphazardly, and the towel next to them was slightly damp under her feet as she crept to the side of his bed.

His covers were tangled. His sleep was fitful, and as she watched him he shifted position, dark skin visible in swathes between the twisted white sheets. Jor had always been such a heavy sleeper. She wondered what made him restless.

Is it because you left me, Jor? Or because you came back?

She climbed carefully onto the mattress. It was too big for her weight to disturb him, and she crawled to him, sat down near his shoulder and touched his cheek.

...spark? Is that... you...?

Sleepily he rolled over to find her sitting beside him, so close he could touch her, and he did. Jor passed a hand over her knee and pressed his face against the side of her leg, and comforted, he was already drifting back asleep when she said his name again.

"Jor?"

"I have something to tell you."

She sat back on her heels, away from him, and tried not to shake. She'd spent the last three days away, ignoring Adrian, calling in to work sick and convincing herself that it wouldn't happen again, it couldn't...but that if it did, it had to happen now. This couldn't be covered up. It had to be lanced. Then there could be healing.

First the needle.

He blinked up at her in sleepy confusion, and then sat up himself, running a hand through his hair and reaching for her again, but she moved just out of reach and he didn't try a second time.

"She was... your opposite. Your antithesis. I... I think that's what drew me to her at first." He continued to look away, unable to meet her eyes. "She was everything you're not. Quiet. Shy. And naive, I suppose; she didn't go to Battleschool, or Command School, so she didn't know about any of that. I'd never met anyone like her, anyone that... that simple. I guess you could call her that. Simple."

"We met a few months after I arrived on Elisabeta. I took her out to dinner, once, and then again. She was... comfortable. Like she listened to everything I said, and never judged me. She didn't know me, didn't know about anything from before-- I mean, even Lei knew from my records, and she'd gone to Command School, but Heather... she just took whatever I said. Unquestioningly. It was empowering, I guess, to be able to make all the decisions for once. I could choose whatever I wanted, and it would happen. I'd never been able to do that before; you," he began, and then laughed, but it was mirthless and a little bitter. "You understand that. We both like that, being in control. It was all my control. She'd never fight back."

At that last revelation he glanced over his shoulder to look at Wick, and she met his gaze until he had to look down. That made his attention fall to his hands, and he clenched them into fists absentmindedly, trying to gather his thoughts as he watched his fingers curl and relax. "I thought I liked that, but... I couldn't stand it after awhile." His nails dug into his palms. "Heather was gentle. And... and I'm not. Even when I tried to be, I couldn't stay that way, not for long. She didn't understand why I needed to fight. All that time in the schools, and then with her I couldn't do anything. I... I needed it, you know I do-- I used to do it all the time, with Nathan, with Daniels, that time in the detention center-- and she didn't like it. I tried not to, but I had to, and... it wasn't right. It wasn't the same. She wouldn't fight back, and it scared her, and finally I couldn't stand it."

Jor looked away again before continuing. "I don't know how it happened. It was on our... our wedding anniversary. And I broke everything. I just... snapped. I told her everything, I told Lei everything, and that... that was it. She left. And one day I went to work and Lei said she'd transferred us to Baton Rouge, so that we could find you again." His face darkened. "I... I didn't want to, or... I thought I didn't want to. I didn't think you'd want to see me again. If I were you, I wouldn't want to see me again." Self-hatred he'd buried the past few weeks resurfaced, and his eyes were hot, full of anger that he tried to hide from her. "And why should you? But I had the orders. Lei arranged for us to go to the ball, so we could see you, and... and when I saw you, I couldn't leave. I was going to, so you wouldn't have to see me again, but I couldn't. And... here I am."

Now it was her turn.

"I wanted to use the twins to kill Terrence. They didn't know I was going to blow the bay. Dominic said he wanted to meet with me to discuss what I wanted them to do. We met in the Command Room an hour before lights out and talked it out." She sighed. "He was so much like me - how I was then," she amended quietly, "but he was better than I was, Jor, and I could tell. He would never have fallen for it if he hadn't thought so little of me. I must have amused him. He was so condescending, so superior. I wanted to bring him down, Jor. I had to. I had to know that he was less than me before he died."

Her words came slowly, and when she opened her eyes to see his face, the moonlight had shifted and his features were only visible in outline. She closed her eyes again.

"He asked me to come back the next night at the same time so we could finish, and I agreed." She paused and swallowed. "I could tell what he wanted even then, I think, but I wanted the chance to reject him, to laugh in his face and leave." She bowed her head slightly. "I should have known better."

"It wasn't me he was interested in, Jor. He just wanted to prove what he could do, what he could make me do. When I got there the next night he distracted me with talk until lights out. The door locked, and I couldn't get out." Her chin came to rest against her chest. "I was angry and frightened, but I wanted to prove I could play in his league. I wanted to prove he couldn't intimidate me. Maybe I wanted him, maybe I didn't, but the first time...the first time I played along, and he won anyway."

She crossed her arms across her stomach. "After that...after that, I think I fell asleep. He was still out when I woke up, and I tried to get out, but the door was coded and then he woke up. We fought after that, if you could call it a fight." Her head came up a bit. "I hurt him. I guess I could have made him open the door, but...but after what he did, I wanted to make him suffer. I wanted to make him do something. So I only hurt him a little...and then I let him go." She hugged herself more tightly and looked down and away.

"I won that time, Jor. I took away his control. But he made me pay for it, and when it was over he acted like it had all been a game and left me alone until I fell asleep. I guess it was a game." Her voice was sad and bitter with self-hatred. "I was like that then. I had to win everything, all the time. I had to. It wasn't until...until you were gone that I realized what losing really was."

She looked up again, but his face was even less visible than before. "I didn't love him, Jor. I didn't even like him. I didn't do it because I didn't want you, or because I thought he was better than you. I did it because I wanted to prove to myself that I was just as good as he was, and all I did was prove to myself how little winning really got me."

He remained quiet and heard the self-loathing in her voice, understood what she'd done and why she'd done it, and the last remnants of anger toward her finally, finally dissipated.

"I didn't do it because I didn't want you, or because I thought he was better than you."

I wouldn't care if you didn't want me then, if you thought I wasn't as good as he was. As long as you want me now, love me now, then I don't care. It doesn't matter, spark. It just doesn't.

Jor opened his eyes to find her looking down at him, pain marking lines in her face that had never been there before, and his own expression darkened, but not with anger. "It's alright," he whispered soothingly, reaching out for her. "I don't care."

She scooted toward him slowly, after a moments hesitation, and Jor pulled her down to lay against him. His hands smoothed over her hair, his arms around her, and he held her to him and kissed her throat, her lips, her hair. "I didn't realize it either, until you were gone. I don't want to feel like that ever again, spark. I don't care. I don't care what happened."

You could do anything, spark, anything, and I would stay. I wouldn't leave you again for the world. I love you.