A/N 1.0 – I don't usually but this at the top but in this case it was necessary because THIS IS M-RATED. I'd like to think it's tastefully done but it is what it is. I considered posting it as a one-shot but since this has become my playground for episode reaction it seemed appropriate to put it here. Enjoy.

(If you're under 18 or just not comfortable with reading, no problem. There's another A/N at the bottom if you want to skip down and read it, it's semi-important.)

Her hand is like ice in his as she pulls him through the apartment, tentative and bold all at once.

The warm light shines against the back of her dripping hair and he wonders where she's been. How she ended up here shaking and apologizing and kissing him like he's the last person she'll ever kiss.

All I could think about was you.

And all he can think about is her.

Her dark eyes and her lips and her "I'm sorry" and her fingers at his neck and her body pressed against his and his hand on her chest, just over her scar, just over her heart.

His room is unlit and before his eyes have had a chance to adjust she turns and finds his gaze. And they stand still for a beat. Eyes locked in a transfer of a thousand feelings and thoughts and wishes and hopes.

His shallow breath matches hers. He waits. Transfixed by the brightness of her eyes in the darkened room.

He should make the first move. He wants to make the first move. But he just spent the last day putting her out of his mind, carefully placing every last bit of his love for her in a box, sealed by his daughter's beautiful graduation address about moving on.

But now she's here, ripping open that box with her words and her hands and he can't handle it all. He needs her to lead him just a bit farther. Just a bit more from her before he can accept that this is real.

She steps in close, her breath tickling the side of his mouth. She places her palm on his chest, just over his heart where he's certain she can feel the frantic beating contrasting the quiet of the moment. And then she kisses him. It's slow and sweet. Careful. Tender. Perfect.

And the world stops spinning when he brings his hand up to her neck, when he traces his thumb along her cheek, when she slides her hands along his shoulders, up to his collar, to the first button on his blue dress shirt. Her fingers work with reverence as she peels apart each button. He can just feel the whisper of her fingertips at every stop on her way.

She pulls back. Her hooded eyes grab hold of his, unblinking as she pulls the shirt open to his shoulders, like she's opening drapes to reveal a stunning landscape. She drags the fabric down his arms, runs her thumbs along his skin as she does.

The lightness of her touch drives him mad. His breath hitches, his heart skitters along, but he's mesmerized by her eyes. By the silent awe in her face. So he stands fixed. Entranced.

The shirt falls to the floor, a flutter of fabric in the quiet. And she tilts back up slowly to kiss him again.

Their lips move like everything else, at a glacial pace. But he's spellbound. At the mercy of her hands' agonizingly slow exploration of his chest. They are still icy and still shaking, and he wonders through the haze if it's the cold or the moment that's making them shiver, because he's shivering as well. Every inch of him is shaking with the restraint necessary to preserve this moment. This quiet, serene moment.

He's itching to touch her, to frantically tear every piece of clothing from her body and explore every inch of her skin in a frenzy of fingers and lips, to force her against the wall and take her right there, desperate and needy, four years of tension expelled in an eruption of passion.

But he doesn't. She has him in a trance. The smolder of her eyes stills him. The veneration of her touch sends jolts through his skin yet somehow it's hypnotic. Like a dream. A waking slumber.

So he follows her lead and with equal diligence he brings his hands up to the collar of her jacket. He echoes her movements with his own, dragging the sopping material from her shoulders, gliding his fingers along her impossibly soft skin.

She sighs into his mouth as the jacket hits the floor with a thud. He feels her tremble ever so slightly while he finishes the job he started back at the door, parting the last two buttons of her blouse and sliding it from her shoulders.

He's not sure who, but one of them begins the deliberate dance backwards. They take each step together, perfectly choreographed with the fumbling of their fingers as he unhooks her bra, then tugs at her damp jeans and she undoes his belt until they're at the edge of his bed and he's easing her onto the comforter.

Bare skin against bare skin, they sink into the bed, still moving at a solemn, almost sacred pace, but that just seems to heighten the sensation. Every gentle brush of skin sets his nerves on fire. Every taste of her - a mix of sweat and rain - leaves him aching for more.

He revels in her sharp intake of breath with every kiss he plants along her neck. He leaves a trail of them down her collar bone, still further down her now heaving chest to her breasts – one of which he palms and kneads in time with her shallow breathing, while he smothers the other with his mouth, teasing her nipple with his tongue and teeth. She arches into him, her hands brushing through his hair and along his shoulders. Never settling in one place, her fingers traipse over him, until it feels like his entire body is tingling in their wake.

And then he stops.

Bruises. Bruises cover her abdomen. His heart plummets. She'd said she nearly died. Nearly died. And here's the proof. He looks up, tries to catch her eyes, but they're closed. She's biting her lip, still savoring his touch, and his desire pulses with that image. Just how close had he come to losing her? To losing this?

He lets out a shaky breath, part relieved and part terrified. He won't take this for granted. Not this or any moment with her.

He feathers his lips across the nearest patch of blue – worshiping her bruise in the same way he worshiped her scar. Because there's a salvation in the close call. There's rebirth in the near-death. And with every breath he thanks God for sparing her.

After so many Almosts he's just glad she's alive.

He's engulfed by the overwhelming need to kiss her. To feel her breath mix with his own. To bask in the simple joy of an inhale and an exhale. So he inches his mouth back up to hers and latches on. He suckles on her lip as he shifts to hover above her, feels the whole length of her body against his and it's perfect, the way they fit together like this.

He settles inside of her then, the quiet haze and the boisterous need swirling into an ecstasy he can't describe. And they're moving together, slow, lingering movements, her legs wrapped around his hips, his hands roving up and down and around her side. Her breath is hot against his ear as she whispers something over and over, a mantra of always and you until the words blend together and he succumbs to the feel of her, her fingers digging into his back, her hips rolling against his.

Their rapture rises together until their breaths come in gasps and he's not sure who's saying o hGod and who's saying yes and more and please because they're melded together in every possible way, swallowing each others' air and breathing each others' words.

She shudders beneath him, clenches around him, cries into his mouth and it's not long before he follows, always following where she leads. Because she's his solid ground, his north star. And though he thought he'd written the final chapter in their extraordinary book, it was never meant to be the end. Just a conclusion to one part of the story.

The first chapter of a much longer tale starts here, with their bodies and hearts and minds united as one. Together, now and always.

A/N 2.0 – Thanks for dave-ck, fooxoo, and trinxy for being wonderful beta's. And thank you to all the readers who have stuck with me on this ride through the end of this season. It's been a blast and I can't tell you how grateful I am for every review, favorite, and alert. Seriously, you all are awesome.

Of course this may not be the end. I could be persuaded to write a morning-after chapter (*hint hint*). But if it is in fact the end then I want to repeat – Thank you.

As always, please review. "Like" or "Dislike" or more, they are much appreciated.

Fight On and You'll Never Walk Alone