A/N: OMG, I hear you cry, an update! So, um, yeah, hi. Been a while. I'm sorry about that. Life sort of took over for the past (checks calendar) 11 months?! Eeek. If anyone is still out there and is still waiting and willing to read this, I want you to know I am truly grateful for your patience and support.

They sit in silence for a long moment, hands still clasped between them, not looking at each other. Eventually, just as he is reaching his limit of the quiet becoming too much, she turns her head towards him.

"I know you…"
"I'm sorry I…"

She has evidently come to the same conclusion as him about their self-inflicted silence, as she breaks it at the same time, and they give an embarrassed laugh. The sound makes his heart jump a little, and he nods to her. "Sorry. You go."

"I know you wouldn't hurt me." She speaks clearly, her gaze locked with his as she sooths his soul. Not wanting her to see the full effect of her words on him (because how can she be so damned sure?) he ducks his head away from her. His eyes fix into his now empty coffee mug, the dregs pooling in its base. She squeezes the hand she still has a tight hold of, but even the reassuring pressure of her hand in his can't make him face her.

"James thought I could." (And that is the crux of the matter, isn't it?)

Nikki gives a scoff, and he feels his heart jump (again) at the sound. "Yes, well, obviously James, (and is it his imagination or did she just sneer his name?) doesn't know you like I do."

There is a warmth beginning to grow in his chest at her affirmation, but he still cannot bring himself to look at her. Not quite yet. Apparently his silence is unsettling her though, for she continues much more anxiously before. "I swear, Jack, I tried to tell him, but he kept going on and on… he wouldn't listen to me. He said something about a sister…"

Suddenly, Jack remembers. And it is so obvious to him why James would react like he did that he wants to kick himself for not seeing it sooner. Of course. Of course. With a small glance in her direction, he confirms the story. "Claire." He remembers a picture he was shown once of a petite looking woman. One that was taken before everything apparently went to shit. "I've never met her. He doesn't really talk much about her."

He sees Nikki nod out of the corner of his eye. "He told me she was abused. Said that's how he had that card. I guess…" she pulls her hand away from his, brushing up against the dark marks he will see in his nightmares for years to come. "I guess it, this, hit pretty close to home."

That just might be the biggest understatement of the year, and he cannot help the short snort he gives at that. "Yeah." (At least he had only taken his frustration out on an unsuspecting punch bag (and his knuckles) and not repeatedly against a concrete wall. James had been in plaster for weeks, he remembers suddenly. Refusing to say anything, and had threatened to ban him from the gym if he didn't let it go. At least now he finally knows why.)

"What were you going to say?"

The silence is broken with her question, and brings him out of his memories.

"Huh?" He raises his head from where he has bowed it while the past flooded his brain, meeting her confused look with one of his own.

"Before." Nikki waves a hand in the air between them. "You were going to say something. What was it?"

Before? He was? He thinks back over the past 30 minutes, before remembering the half started apology.

"Oh. It doesn't matter now." If the past half hour has given him anything, it's an absolution he has yet to ask for. He's not about to bring up something that will only cause pain. It is obvious though that this soft rebuttal is the wrong approach, and her next question completely floors him.

"Are… Are you angry with me?"

"What? No." Is she serious? Angry at her? He shakes his head, if only to emphasise his point. "Why would you… No."

"But… You didn't answer your phone." His phone? When had she tried to call his phone? Not before hunting him down at the gym; he'd checked it for messages when he was getting changed earlier.

"My phone?"

She blinks. "I tried calling. Before, when you were out. I called. You didn't… so I thought…" Her words trail off, and now it is her avoiding his searching gaze, instead staring intently at her (tightly clenched) hands. It is obvious she is anxious about his answer, and it gives him pause.

Never, he will never understand this woman.

"Nikki. No. No, I'm not angry at you."

"But," she pauses again, and he can see her draw in a breath as she gives him a sideways glance. "But you didn't answer…"

He cannot let her do this to herself; putting blame on her shoulders where this is none. Not on his account. "I didn't even have it with me. I left it. It's in my jacket. When I left, I didn't… you called me?"

He doesn't know why he is shocked at this revelation. Despite everything, she is still Nikki. Still has the biggest heart of anyone he has ever known. It shouldn't surprise him like it does.

"Wha-? Of course I called you. You just ran out of here… I didn't even… I was worried about you!" There is an edge to her tone now, one that tells him he has begun to truly piss her off. There is a spark of anger in her eyes too, and it makes them turn a shade darker. (There is something else in her eyes, something beyond the anger. He doesn't dare hope to name it. But he still doesn't understand how the intense emotion can aimed at him.)

"Why?"

He has confused her with his question, he can tell. "What do you mean, why? You're my friend. You were upset. I wanted to make sure…"

And just like that, his heart stutters. Friend. Friend. Is that all they are then? After everything? The kisses they shared (shared, dammit) earlier, when he poured everything, everything he has ever felt for this woman sitting beside him, and she throws it back in his face like that? Is that all she thinks she means to him? He feels his temper beginning to rise, and while he will never, never raise anything against her, he can still use his words.

"What? That I wasn't beating up another wall? Is that what you…?"

Her own tone has turned angry now too. (Jesus, what are they doing to each other?!) "God, no, that's not it at all! Stop putting words in my mouth!"

He is too hurt, too wrapped up in his own heartbreak to stop himself from turning to mocking. "Then what is it, huh? What?"

"It was my fault!"

And suddenly his bubble of hurt and pride and pain is burst with what must be an audible pop. He sits there gaping at her for an unprecedented period of time, too shocked to do anything more than stare. Eventually, he manages to rasp, "What? How is any of this your fault?"

(Doesn't she get it? Doesn't she see?)

He tries to get her to meet his gaze, but she is avoiding it at all costs. Muttering in to her hands, she confesses, "Because I should have stopped him."

Stopped him? Stopped who? Huh? "What? James? You said you tried…"

He trails off when she starts shaking her head. "No. Not James. Last night. Simon. I should have…"

This time it is her who trails off. He wants to let it go. Wants to move on. But, dammit it all to hell, he can't.

"What?"

She stutters, already strained voice beginning to falter more now. "I goaded him. I just. He. With Amy. And then…"

No. No. Nonononono. He can't listen to this. He has to make her stop talking. Now. "I can't. I can't hear this."

He pulls away from her, even as her hand is reaching for his. It might just be the most difficult thing he has ever done in his life. Especially when her voice catches on his name. "Jack…"

He needs to leave. Now. He needs to get out. Get away. He feels her hand grasp his wrist, but before she can get a true grip he has shaken himself free, moving away from her. "No. Stop it. Just stop it. I can't... please, Nikki."

"I'm sorry." Her apology comes through a sob, and the sight of her tears is almost enough to make him stop. He feels himself falter for a moment, before turning away once more.

"Don't apologise." He shakes his head. The urge to get away takes over. (Doesn't she get it? Doesn't she see?) He moves on autopilot towards to now finished dryer. Clothes. He needs clothes. He needs to get out of here before he explodes. "I should…"

Pulling the door open, he quickly dresses, trying to keep his grip on the towel to preserve both their dignity (even though she has turned her head away when she realised what he was doing). It is only when he strides past her, intent on getting to his shoes that she speaks again.

"Where are you going?" Away, his mind says. Away. "Jack?"

It is only when she (successfully, this time) catches hold of his wrist and stops his progress towards the hall that he realises he is muttering aloud. "I need to go… I need… I can't…"

Her eyes have widened at his words (it would be comic, but nothing about this whole fucked up situation is funny) and he pulls himself free of her grasp again.

"Goddammit Jack! Stop pushing me away."

The words physically hurt, and he whirls back around, a hard, desperate feeling taking hold of him. Knowing it is present in his eyes, his stare holds her in place, as he growls, "You should stay away from me."

"Wha-?"

He cannot let himself be swayed by her. He is barely holding it together as it is. "I mean it."

He turns away, intent on getting out, when he finds himself being turned back around by her fierce grasp on his wrist. Before he can move, before he can blink, she slaps him, hard, across his face. The echo of it rings loud in her otherwise silent flat, and they both stare at each other in shock.

She is the first to break it. And while the words are not a surprise, the broken tone is. "I hate you."

A tears breaks free from her eye, and his heart stutters.

Oh god.

What has he done?

"Nikki…"

Oh god. He needs to fix this. Goddammit, he needs to fix this now.

"You have no idea what I…" Her voice trails off into another sob.

What has he done? Jesus. Fuck. What has he done?!

Helpless to do anything else, he steps towards her, pulling her trembling form against his chest. He feels her tense for a moment in his arms, but only tightens his embrace around her, relieved when sags against him. Feeling her tears as they soak through his shirt, he begins to rub soothing circles over her back, desperate to stop her tears.

"No, no, don't cry. Not over me. Not… I'm not worth it."

"Says who?" The words are mumbled into his chest, but at least they're not broken by sobs, so that's something.

He gives a sigh, loosening his arms around her small form, but she does not move away from him. "Everyone. Everyone says it."

There is an obvious pause, and he can almost hear her mind turn over what she could say in response to this. Eventually, she just gives a quiet, "I don't."

It is a benediction, one he didn't know he needed until she gives him it. His arms tighten around her again in response, holding her against him once more. "I know."

They stand like that for what? Minutes? Hours? He's not sure. Eventually, though, he feels her push back away from him. He lets her step back, but not fully out of his embrace. Staring at the floor, she mutters, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

(Does she get it? Does she see?)

There is a pause, before she whispers, "For getting hurt."

Oh. Unable to stop himself, he pushes her to arm's length. "That's not why I'm angry." Letting his arms fall away completely, he tilts his head back on a frustrated growl. "God, you just don't get it do you? You really have no idea."

"What?" The confused tone only solidifies his heartache. He needs to explain, needs to let her in, even if will be the end of them.

"It's not that you got hurt." Liar, his mind says. Liar. A quick glance shows that she can tell he is lying, so he stops, and gives a rueful shake of his head. "Ok. It is. But not because…"

He trails off again. How does he make it so that she gets it? How does he make it so that she sees? "I'm not explaining this very well." He pauses. Takes a breath. Puts his heart on the line. "It's what you getting hurt does to me. It's about who, what I am. What I can do. How I can destroy…"

She interrupts him again. "Jack… You could never destroy…"

Jesus, why does she always have to interrupt him? "No. God, don't you get it, Nikki? Don't you see? I'm so completely in love with you, I can't even…"

He stops. The words he has spoken have left his mouth without his permission, and Oh. Oh. So that's what love feels like.

Nikki's voice, hesitant and scared and just a little bit hopeful, brings him out of his own revelation. "Did… did you just say you love me?"

Did he? Oh, well, yes, he did. Great. Fantastic. Brilliant, even. He cannot look at her. Cannot bear to see the rejection he is sure will be written all over his face. Because people like Nikki do not love people like him. "Love? No. No." Except, if this is the one time he gets to say it without being kicked in the balls, he's going to damn well say it. "Well, ok, yes. I mean…

"You… you love me?" there is a breathless wonder to her tone, and it gives his heart, his stupid, pathetic, so-in-love-with-her-it-hurts heart hope.

"Well, yeah." And then he panics. "Ok. Look. That was really dumb. Forget it, ok? I didn't say anything. We'll just put that down to a temporary loss of hearing, or something, ok?" He nods his head, still not looking at her. He needs to go. Before he does something else completely stupid. Like kiss her again. (Even if he really, really, wants to.) "Right. Good. Ok. So I should go. Yeah. I'm just gonna…" He points his thumb over his shoulder towards her door.

He's going to leave. Any moment now.

Just as soon as she stops looking at him like that.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

He opens his mouth to protest, but finds himself being pulled down slightly by her hand in his hair (and just when did that happen?) and all thoughts of protest, of leaving, of anything, fly out of his head when she finally presses her mouth to his.

A/N: Am I forgiven?