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theywhowriteandknowthings · 5 months

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Spotify Wrapped Challenge 29: Who By Fire – Pj Harvey, Tim Phillips Reader x Jack Daniels

NSFW 18+ minors DNI. Warnings: canon-divergence, grief, angst with a happy ending, fluff, unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, teasing, emotional baggage. Let me know if I missed anything!

29: Who By Fire – Pj Harvey, Tim Phillips And who by fire, who by water Who in the sunshine, who in the night time Who by high ordeal, who by common trial Who in your merry merry month of may Who by very slow decay And who shall I say is calling? - Thank you @noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal for betaing this! [AO3] Wordcount: 3.5k oops

You slump down into the pleather booth with a sigh, your bones ache. You just want to go home, forget about this wild goose chase, but there’s something boring into the back of your brain about it all. A nagging, errant anxiety worrying away at your mind.

You’ve been on Jack’s tail for months, unsatisfied by the account that he simply fell into an automatic meat grinder and met his fate. You’d heard it first hand and read every word of the after-action report, but you’re still not convinced.

First it was a sighting of a handsome man carrying an electrified whip, bloodied and broken at an ER in Dallas, then it was the CCTV footage at an ATM in Swindon, UK. You’d started to connect the dots; Jack Daniels is alive. Eggsy and Hart are convinced, devout even, that they saw him turn to mush in a blender. But there’s something in the back of your mind that gives you pause.

It’s all too convenient.

And that’s why you’re here, in a dive bar in Michigan, following one last lead before you finally throw in the towel. Your phone vibrates and you snatch it from your pocket, your stomach drops as you see the message on the screen.

Statesman HQ: Agent Whiskey, where are you?

You turn your phone off, ignoring your organisation’s check-in. This mission is off books. Personal. You nurse your scotch and wait. But it’s been two years, and the trail is running cold. It’s been weeks since the last tip, months since the last blurry photo sighting. But this was your last-ditch effort, intel from an old CI of yours.

Maybe I should just give up.

You think to yourself as you glance around the bar, your eyes flicking from patron to patron, desperately trying to find a ghost amongst the living.

“Y’always were a stubborn son of a bitch,” Jack’s voice slices through your mind like a blade cutting through paper. Loud, distracting, palpable.

You look up to see a grizzled, broken echo of the man you once loved. A patchy beard, unkept and scruffy peppering his jaw. His eyes are watery, broken as he looks down at you with despair.

“Jack?”

“In the flesh,” he wheezes as he settles down on the other side of the booth, his denim shirt and trouser combo stirring nostalgic desire in your gut. He always did manage to subvert expectations.

You sit there, a broiling tempest of emotions burning through you as you try to figure out what to say to him. You want to throw yourself at him, lose yourself in his familiar, strong arms. You want him to devour you like nothing happened.

But it had happened. So much has changed since you last laid eyes on him. You want to hate him, turn him in and let him suffer for his indiscretions. You want to claw at his face, gouge out his eyes and spit on his remains.

But you can’t.

“I’ve missed you,” you wheeze as you study his broken façade. You want to take him back to your motel, look after him. Anything to confirm this isn’t some sick joke.

“Not as much as I’ve missed you.”

The words hang in the air like a promise, a challenge.

“Bullshit, if you’d really missed me, you’d have let me know, given me something to tell me that you were alive!” you spit with a venom arcing from your tongue. Your eyes shedding tears unbidden as you try and reconcile almost two years of abandonment.

“You know why I couldn’t do that Sugar,” he sighs as he leans forward to take your trembling hands in his. Your gut twists at the nickname, something you’d lost along with him. Your sweetness, your joy.

You flinch at his touch, almost pulling away, almost keeping your dignity. But you don’t. You let him thread his thick fingers through your own. You let yourself feel at home in his touch. At home under his skin.

“Jack, we have to talk about it,” you breathe as you smooth your thumbs over the heel of his palms his well worn callouses are non-existent now. Yet, despite feeling so very different, he’s the same Jack, the same man you’ve mourned for two whole years.

“If we do, it needs to be somewhere private, gotta prove you’re not wearing a wire, Sugar.”

You frown at him, pulling your hands from his, anger slighting your ego as you begin to unbutton your shirt, willing to strip bare here to prove to him you weren’t. Your fingers tremble as you worry at the buttons, your gaze downturned as you concentrate.

“Sugar,” Jack warns as he leans over the table, grasping your wrists gently, pulling them away from your blouse, “Let’s take this back to my place.”

You look back up into those soft, chocolate brown eyes that glisten with desire after so long apart. You watch as his lips twist up into a smirk, the grin of a predator cornering his prey.

~*~

You watch Jack disappear inside his apartment building, waiting for the agreed amount of time before following him inside.

Your stomach flips as you watch the minutes tick by on your car stereo. After two long years, waiting five minutes should be simple, easy even. But your body vibrates with unease, it thrums with nervous energy as the seconds slip by slower than you could ever imagine possible. You tap your fingers on the top of the steering wheel, trying to disperse some of the kinetic energy tumbling through you on a loop as the time crawls by.

Four minutes fifty seconds go by, and you see a twitch of a curtain on the second floor, you know it’s him. You’ve waited long enough.

You dash across the empty street and bound straight up to the top step. The moment your foot connects with the concrete, you hear the sound of Jack buzzing you in before you’ve even lifted your arm to press the call button.

Your heart is racing as you ascend the stairs two at a time, heading for apartment 2B. You barely have time to register the clean, almost modern refit of the apartment building, your mind is focused on one thing and one thing alone.

Jack.

You reach the apartment door and knock firmly, bouncing from one foot to the other as you wait for Jack to answer. But you’re met with silence as you pound the door with your fist. Your heart sinks at the lack of response and your mind races as you fear the worst.

He’s gone. Again.

But before you could manifest your anger into anything physical, you hear it.

“Ain’t no grave, can hold my body down,” the sound of singing you’d thought long lost floats through the door, and you can’t help but laugh at his choice of song.

You push open the door, locking it behind you as you take in the well lived-in apartment. Two brown leather sofas angled just right at a TV hung on the wall. A coffee table strewn with ranching magazines and gun catalogs. A small kitchen-diner at the far end of the open-plan room.

You pause in your analytical scan of the room as you see the door at the far end ajar. You move on instinct, no longer thinking about danger nor consequences. You can only think about him, the man singing a dirge to himself in the shower. Waiting for you.

You push into the bedroom and smile at the open door to the ensuite bathroom, steam billowing into the dark room from the illuminated doorway.

“I see a single angel, and she’s coming after me.”

You shake your head at the modified lyrics as you shed your clothes in a pile at the end of the bed. You’re supposed to bring him in, that was your plan, you’re supposed to cuff him and take him back to HQ to prove everyone wrong.

But you didn’t really expect him to be alive, not really. You’ve been chasing ghosts just so you don’t have to admit to the desperate truth that he was really gone.

You lean against the doorframe and let yourself admire the view. On the sink sits a pile of prosthetics, skin and hair that you now realise formed the beard he was sporting in the bar. Then your eyes fall to the steamed-up shower door.

The glass is fogged up, leaving a view of his silhouette as he stands turned away from you. But you can see him without seeing him, you know every curve of muscle in his back, the swell of his ass, the scars and freckles that pepper his tan skin.

“You gonna stay out there starin’ like a pervert,” Jack calls through the barrier, “Or are ya gonna hop in and join me?”

You answer by sliding the warm glass door open, stepping in behind him as you trap yourself inside the modest steamy space. The door seals with a thud and Jack looks over his shoulder at you. Water cascades down the planes of his muscled form and it’s like seeing him anew, for the first time all over again.

You gasp despite yourself as you take in the strong curve of his nose. Then, the plush, pouty lips framed with his thick, dark moustache. His eyes glimmer as creases form at the corners, his lips curving up into a rapturous smile.

“Hey there sugar, you miss me?”

You grab Jack by the waist and spin him around, hands sliding up his slick, muscular body to tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck. You pull him down, lips crashing up into his as you press yourself against him.

It’s like a dam bursts, every pent-up moment of self-imposed isolation exploding into a rush of tears, arousal, and desperate moans. Your tongues clash and you whimper as he cups your cheeks with his broad hands. He nips on your bottom lip as he comes up for air, his strong nose bumping against yours as water flows between you.

His strong hands paw at your body, fingertips trailing over the swell of your breasts, tweaking at your nipples before shifting lower. His thick fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he rolls his painfully hard erection against your stomach.

“Didn’t let me finish my song,” he breathes as he presses his forehead to yours, panting wildly as water streams down both your faces.

“You can sing later cowboy, dry off and meet me in bed.”

You growl as you grasp the base of his cock, giving him a gentle, barely-there tug before slipping back out of the shower. You hear him snarl behind you and you smirk to yourself as you grab a towel to dry yourself off as you practically dive onto the bed.

There’s a nagging in the back of your mind, telling you to stop before you get hurt.

But the voice is getting quieter and quieter with each passing moment. You finally have Jack back, your Jack. And for the first time in two years, you don’t feel alone, empty, broken. It’s like breaking through the surface of a lake you’ve been slowly drowning in, and breathing fresh, nourishing air into your deprived lungs.

The shadow in the doorway draws your attention and you gasp at the sight of Jack, leaning against the frame. His body is bathed in shadow but you can feel his eyes on you, predatory as his gaze roves over you.

“Jack, please.”

You hold your arms out as you spread your legs for him, no doubt putting on a show with how wet you are.

“Missed you, Sugar,” he says as he saunters over to the end of the bed, kneeling down on the edge as you feel his thick fingers ghost along your calves, “Should’a known you’d be the one to find me.”

“Just knew you were alive, couldn’t give up on you.”

“Stubborn as ever,” he chuckles as you feel his fingers lock around your ankles, you yelp as he yanks you down the bed. He spreads your legs wide as he settles his head between your thighs, moustache tickling against the sensitive skin there.

“Jack, fuck need your cock, please!” you whine, you’re already wet, you just want him inside you, fucking you until neither of you have anything left to give.

“No way,” he purrs as he nips at the soft flesh of your inner thigh, hands hooking under your knees to manoeuvre your legs over his shoulders, “Haven’t tasted you in too long Sugar, gotta remind myself how sweet you are.”

You prepare a witty retort, but it dies in your throat as he mouths at your clit. His tongue darts forward, teasing your swollen bud as he groans against your folds. He wastes no time, bringing a finger to your core, pressing slowly into you as he flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit.

“Taste better than I remember,” he mumbles as he devours you, “Come for me Sugar and I’ll let you have my dick.”

You whine in frustration as you lock your fingers in his hair, pulling him in closer as he adds a second finger to your desperate cunt.

“Fuck, Jack. Missed you so much,” you wail as he curls his fingers up inside you, pressing into your g-spot with ease. You arch up off the bed as he licks broad, wet strokes over your clit, pressuring it just right as you feel your core tense. Pleasure burns under your skin as your spine tightens at the base.

“Missed you too,” he breathes as he looks up at you, admiring the way your face contorts in pleasure as you reach your peak, “Now come for me, show me how much you missed me.”

You come undone at his command, clenching hard around the fingers fucking into you at speed. Jack rolls his tongue over your clit again and again as you see stars behind your eyelids. You cry his name again and again as you come hard, pulling roughly at his scalp to bring him impossibly close as you grind your cunt up into his eager mouth. His moustache scrapes against your swollen folds and you whimper as overstimulation rocks through you.

“Such a good girl,” he groans as he places one last sloppy kiss to your clit before easing his fingers out of you. You whine at the lack of sensation, “You doin’ ok Sugar?”

“More than ok, c’mere,” you cup Jack’s cheeks with your hands and rub your thumbs over his cheekbones as you tug gently to guide him up to you.

He crawls up the bed, pushing your thighs further apart as he settles his pelvis between them. He leans down, the heft of his cock pressed between your bodies as he leans in. He rests his forearms either side of your head.

“I love you Sugar,” he croons as he places a soft kiss to your lips, barely there, tender, “Never stopped loving you.”

You kiss him back, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth as you savour the way his moustache tickles your skin. You commit to memory the way his strong body weighs on you, pinning you to the bed as you try – and fail – to arch up into his body. The corner of his mouth quirks up and his dick twitches as he feels you move under him.

“Love you too Jack, always have, always will.”

“You ready for me?” he asks with a final nudge of his nose against yours as he shifts backwards, lining his tip against your core. You feel his silken foreskin glide through your folds as he nudges your oversensitive clit.

“Please, Jack. Please.”

You cry out as he presses slowly into you. Every ridge and vein pressing against your fluttering walls as you adjust around his girth. You wrap your ankles around his waist as you pull him down by the shoulders. Your lips crash together as you press your tongue into his mouth, desperate to feel him, all of him, as he bottoms out inside you.

You both gasp at the sensation as you come up for air, foreheads pressed together as you pant into the air together breath intermingling as you smile up at him. He grins back down at you as he strokes the side of your face with one hand, the other palming your breast.

“So fucking beautiful Sugar.”

“Right back at you cowboy.”

You roll your hips up as you drop one hand to your clit, the other planted on Jack’s shoulder, anchoring you to him.

“Fuck me Jack, make me scream.”

Jack growls, the vibration coming from deep in his chest as he pulls almost all the way out. He snaps back into you without warning as he fucks you hard and fast. You rub desperately at your clit as every snap of his hips sends shockwaves through your body.

“Always so fucking good for me,” Jack pants as he fucks down into you frantically, rolling his hips at the end of every thrust. You whine at every press of his cock against your g-spot, at every circle of your fingertip on your swollen bud.

It’s like no time has been lost between you, both of you working in perfect rhythm as you use each other to chase your high. You cant your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him deeper, pressing him harder inside you.

Jack grunts above you as he feels your cunt spasm around him, his own release painfully close as you feel your second orgasm cresting with him. He snarls your name over and over with every staggering thrust as his rhythm gets sloppy.

“Come inside me Jack, fill me up,” you whine as you feel the hot burn in your core, pleasure streaking through you as you cry out, coming hard around his cock. Jack hisses as he feels your pussy clamping around him as he tries to hold on a little longer.

“Such a good girl for me, fuck!”

Jack buries himself in your wet heat, pressed to the hilt as he comes hard. You feel him pulse inside you as he paints your walls with his spend. Rope after rope fills you up as he falls forwards, catching himself on his forearms just in time to stop your heads clashing together.

You lie there for some time, shuddering through aftershocks together as you trade sloppy kisses. You come up for air every now and again as you giggle together, elated energy buzzing between you as you both come down.

“Need to clean up,” You whisper into the dark room as you trace swirls and patterns against Jack’s shoulder with your fingertips.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your nose before pulling out, immediately your combined spend drips from your cunt and you shiver at the sensation. Jack takes you by the hand and you fall into a familiar routine. Both of you pee, both of you clean up with a hot towel. Then Jack goes to get you both a bottle of water and some snacks.

“You ok there, Sugar?”

He asks as you feel the bed dip under his weight, your eyes fluttering open to look up into his concerned face.

“Better than ok, baby,” you sigh as you take the water bottle from his hand, snuggling into his side once you take a big gulp before setting the bottle on the nightstand.

“Good, good.”

You lie there together, unspeaking as you allow yourself to forget the anguish of the last two years. You forget about the pain and the hardship. You remember the good, the love, the promise that you once shared.

You begin to drift off but something in your chest aches for validation, for security.

“Don’t leave me again.”

You whisper into his chest as you cling to him, desperation getting the better of you.

“This is my house, Sugar.”

“You know what I mean,” you grumble, and he turns over to drape his strong thigh over your hips, pulling you against him with a strong hand cradling the back of your head. He cages you in fully, wrapping you in his embrace.

“I do, and I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

You grunt your assent to his promise and allow yourself to smile, unburdened for the first time in a very long time.

“Love you, Jack.”

“Love you too,” he whispers your name into your hair and the two of you sleep soundly for the first time since you were parted two years ago.

Fuck the consequences, you would leave everything behind for him. And you know that he will too.

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geliditramonti · 2 years

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Fallin' (part two)

Pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) xf!Reader

Summary: You miraculously survived the fall from the roof and wake up in the Statesman’s medical room.

Warnings: none, fluff

[Part 1]

Your eyes barely open, two very thin cracks looking around as you try to figure out where you are. The head hurts like hell and in this confusion you think there's some voices coming from nearby, maybe from an adjacent room. What the...you can't figure out what they're saying and neither if they're talking to you or not. You don't even know if they're real or a figment of your imagination. Maybe you're dead.

This neon light is really disturbing and your eyes are burning. You try to move a little the fingers of your right hand that feels so numb, on these white sheets that cover you up to half a torso. This slight humming in your ears it's drilling into the brain, but it seems to be decrease more and more as you try to remember what happened and why you're here. The monitor that controls your heart rate is beeping at every beat as you look around, it takes you a few minutes to recognize the Statesman's medical room. Your tired look falls on the bed next to yours on a large oxygen tank, on a desk on which there's a computer on and then is captured by the only note of color in the room: a bouquet of flowers, now a little wilted, placed in a glass vase resting on the bedside table next to you. They look like wildflowers...it's a shame you couldn't smell them as soon as they were picked up, they probably used to smell very good. Seeing them makes a strange sensation grow inside of you, something you can't explain. Something you can feel right down your throat. What happened?

"Agent Brandy?"

You don't recognize this voice.

"Oh my God. Brandy? Can you hear me?"

You turn your head a few inches and look at a woman in a white lab coat approach your bed. Her skin has the color of caramel, her hair is cut into a very short bob and she looks at you from behind a pair of black frame glasses, smiling incredulously in front of what she's seeing. She comes even closer to you and takes your hand, smiling softly almost to hold back some tears.

"How are you feeling? You know where you are?"

As you nod quietly she keeps softly smiling.

"Hi, Ginger."

Ginger's been taking care of you since day one here at the Statesman. She's always been the only woman in the agency and ever since you were recruited she's treated you like a little sister, taking you under her wing. For your part, you were always ready to draw your guns on the nose of some passing prick who dared to make petty comments about her, putting them back in their places.

"You scared us, you know that?"

You don't know what to say, remaining silent. Just feel so confused. Ginger takes a stool and brings it to the bed, sitting right next to it.

"Do you recall what happened that day?"

"What day?"

"The day you had...the accident."

She looks you in the eye and clears her throat.

"You...fell off the roof of a building during the mission that was assigned to you and Agent Whiskey, and-"

"Jack."

His name comes out of your lips like a sigh and you feel something tighten your chest as her eyes soften.

"How is he? He's okay, right?"

Ginger smiles sweetly while her hand caresses yours.

"He's fine. He got away with a bad wound to his shoulder and some bruising. You instead had a tough time, huh?"

His look.

As you fall.

"Is he...is he in here?"

Ginger's eyes change and for a few moments you can feel her hesitation. It's like she's looking for the right words, like she's...afraid to hurt you.

"Agent Whiskey retired from his duties as Statesman agent the day after it happened."

Something hits you right in the chest.

"...what?"

You just can't believe it.

"He gave us no explanation. Within two days we'd lost the best and the most promising agents in our team."

You don't understand. Why would he do that? He was your team leader, Champagne's right-hand man...why would an agent of his caliber decide to do something like that? Your brain is struggling to process all this informations as you realize that you'll never see him again. All you want to do is just go back to sleep in the hope of never waking up again.

You feel lost.

"I know that you feel confused and scared right now...and I know how close you were to Agent Whiskey, but...it's not the time to give up. You must recover, our war is not over yet."

As Ginger speaks, your gaze hangs in the void towards your motionless feet under the covers. You don't know why you feel like this, you should be happy to be alive. But this news, the fact that Jack left...is it possible that he did it because you let him down so much? Whiskey had never failed a single mission in his entire career and the last one was a failure because of you. You didn't have his back like he asked. He had faith in you. If you'd been good enough he wouldn't have been unarmed and hurt, if you hadn't been scared maybe you wouldn't have lost your focus and-

"Brandy."

Ginger always understood you without talking.

"Jack came back here every day. He sat next to you and stayed here for hours hoping that you would wake up. He brought you fresh flowers every morning and he happened to fall asleep here, on the stool or on the next bed."

Words get stuck in your throat as you listen to her talk. Now you're even more confused and your heart starts to beat faster.

"But...he's only been here two or three times a week in the last month. I think seeing you like this was making him...suffer too much."

What?

"In the...last month? How long...how long have I been here?"

"You've been out for over six months. We've used our cryogenic storage system so that you don't completely lose your cognitive and physical abilities."

You must have heard wrong.

"Six...months?"

Ginger nods and you feel like you're dreaming, it can't be true. How many things have you missed?

"Are you ok, Brandy?"

"Yes, I'm...okay."

You can't stop your brain shredding, shredding, shredding thoughts and questions. Why did Jack come here every day? You're sure he feels guilty about what happened and thinks it was all his fault, putting all the responsibility on his shoulders. It must have been terrible for him.

In a split second you frown, closing your eyes like when you get overwhelmed by your regular migraine episodes. You squeeze your head with the hands while, like in a flashback, you clearly see his face as you’re falling down. His Stetson that flies away, his jacket dirty with blood, his silent scream as he reaches out to you.

"I need to see him." you say firmly, hardly moving your legs now dangling from the bed.

"Brandy, are you crazy? What do you think you're doing?"

You observe your bare feet for a few seconds, in silence and carefully, fully aware that your legs will collapse, that they won't hold the weight of your body after five months of inactivity...but with a little push of the arms you finally put your feet on the cold floor, continuing to hold on to the mattress so as not to risk falling as Ginger's hands promptly gird your hips, supporting part of your weight.

"Don't do this. You're in no condition to..."

"You can't stop me, Ginger. And you know it."

She looks you in the eye, a few inches from you. She knows she can't change your mind, anything she can tell you. You need to understand. You need to know.

* * * * * * *

You've never been to this part of the country before. The helicopter that Champagne made available to get you here landed not far away, in a wheat field in the middle of nowehere. When your feet touch the ground your legs tremble again and you can't say if it's because the effect of the serum that Ginger injected you just before leaving is disappearing or because, finally, you can see in the distance the ranch where Whiskey should be. The large wooden farmhouse stands in the middle of a wonderful golden field, the sun that's going down illuminates everything with a beautiful orange light and, for a few minutes, you remain motionless taking some deep breaths. When you finally find the courage to take the first step one follows the other, slowly approaching the house as your heart beats faster and faster. What will he say? What if he's not happy to see you? If he came here to stay away from everyone and you just...bother him? Fear is gripping your stomach. There's this absolute silence that amplifies your thoughts, you can only hear the sound of the wind blowing that moves the ears like some waves of an ocean. You've not reached the house yet when, from a distance, you can see a figure standing in the middle of the low grass. He's grooming a beautiful brown and white spotted horse, caressing it from time to time with calm and care as your heart is about to pop out of your chest. You find yourself holding your breath looking at his back, at that snow-white t-shirt and his hair...you don't know if you've ever seen him without his hat. You can't remember.

You wonder if you're doing the right thing.

"Good boy..."

Hearing his voice again hits you right in the stomach. You take another step forward and, finally, find the courage to let your voice out in a faint whisper that you hope is more audible than it seems.

"Agent Whiskey?"

All of a sudden he freezes. He doesn't turn, just a bit his head while he's waiting to hear more and convincing that no...that's not possible.

"Whiskey is dead." he answer in a deep, calm voice while starts brushing his horse again, without turning towards you even a second.

Your hands are shaking, you whisper his name between your lips without him hearing and you do it two, three times before being able to say it out loud.

"Jack."

He gets stuck again but only for a moment, his lips half open and his breath stumble before he turns and finally sees you. You look at each other in the eye for an indefinite time, something that seems like an eternity while his initially shocked dark eyes begin to shine inside yours.

"Brandy?"

"So it seems," you say in a smile "but call me by my name."

He drops the brush in his hand on the grass and then approaches you.

"What...how you feel? I thought you, you..." Jack stutters as his beautiful brown eyes roam your face, incredulous and amazed "...when did this happen? I clearly said to call me if..."

"I didn't give them time, I...had to see you."

Jack remains silent and keeps looking at you, his eyes are sweeter now and your heart is beating even faster.

"So, uh...it's true you've decided to retire." you say looking around, the sun caresses your skin and in the air there's a good smell of freshly cut lawn. He looks down, saying nothing.

"Jack, if it's because of what happened...I mean, you don't have to do that. It wasn't your fault."

"What? It was all my fault. I couldn't hold you, I fuckin' dropped you. You almost died because of me"

"You almost died too. You were wounded and unarmed but did everything you could to save me. You can't quit the job you were born to do. The Statesman needs you."

You get a little closer, a gust of wind brings the scent of his cologne to your nostrils.

"And...I need you."

Jack barely smiles, you're even closer now and his fingers gently touch your cheek, sighing.

"Seeing you in that bed every day, without knowin' if I'd ever see your eyes again was killin' me. I couldn't bear the thought of havin' failed that mission, of havin' done that to you and I just...didn't want to do that anymore. Not without you."

Your heart skips a beat.

"But now I'm here..."

"But now you're here."

Jack takes another small step towards you, now your bodies are really close.

"So why'd you come out here today?" he asks you with a low tone of voice as moves a lock of hair from your face. You almost miss your breath and can't answer while your eyes look into his.

"I wanted to see where those flowers on my nightstand had been picked" you answer a little embarrassed, making him smile a bit.

"Ginger told you that?"

You nod, seeing Jack getting stiff as he looks down and with a little cough clears his voice. You can't say anything else, observing his face in silence and trying to keep calm.

"I never thought I'd see you again." he tells you then, before looks up again straight in your eyes. "There's a thought that's been botherin' me all this time, and...it's somethin' that I just couldn't forgive myself for. I couldn't live with the regret that I didn't do somethin' I should have done a long time ago. Thought I'd never get a chance to do that."

"To do what?"

Your voice is shaking as his fingers grab your chin and lift up your mouth to his. When finally his lips lean on yours with such delicacy your legs tremble. His kiss is warm and slow, his lips are soft and delicate while you feel an electric discharge inside your body, like a defibrillator that's making you come back to life. Again. His moustache caresses your skin and smells just as good as you imagined and in a liberating gesture you threw your arms around his neck, kissing him more deeply as he embraced you and held you to himself. Maybe you're still in a coma and dreaming, or maybe you died in that bed and this is the paradise you chose...but when the kiss ends and Jack keeps holding you tight, claiming part of the weight of your body that starts to get tired, his look and smile make you realize that it's all true. You're holding each other in the middle of this beautiful field, the sun is going down and finally you feel like you're in the right place.

"You must be tired. Let's go inside, shall we?" he whispers on your lips.

You nod, smiling. He gives you another soft kiss on the lips and then takes you by the hand.

"I'll take care of you, sugar."

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