Chapter Six: I Am Heaven Sent, Don't You Dare Forget.

"This can't happen with us like this."

She doesn't realize until he touches her that she's placed a hand over her stomach. She doesn't mean to wince, but sort of sickly enjoys the obvious pain it brings him when he sees her reaction to his gentlest of gestures. She knows she should move both arms, and grab her waist on either side. She knows she should. Instead, she just lets her hands drop to her sides.

Her old, ratty jeans aren't holding up like she'd hoped they would. Of course, it's not helping that the wind is blowing in from the north, and her face feels like it might freeze off. Her jacket (Jim's jacket) is keeping her warm, and she thinks for the most part, sane.

"I don't," he starts. He really can't find anything to say that could fix this, so he lies. "I don't think I should be alone tonight." He's cast the line, prays she bites.

"What does that have to do with me?"

He sighs. Don't make him say it. "Stay with me. Please." He means forever, but if she takes it as just for tonight, it'd be fine. One step at a time.

"There's no room at your place for me."

"You can take my bed and I'll --"

"No, I'm not gonna put you out like that."

He thinks. "Can I borrow your couch?"

She hates him. In this moment, she hates him so badly. How dare he do this. How dare he invite her over, and then himself to her place. On top of that, how dare he turn it into something that makes her smile.

Still fighting a smile, she nods. Why can't she shake her head? "I don't think that's a good idea, either."

"Do you have like a blanket in the car or something?"

She grunts in frustration. "Fine. Get in the back. And...Lie down. I don't want to look at you right now."

The drive to her house is short. He's glad she gave in so easily, and he knows he's going to pay for that, too. He knows how he can make it up to her, she just has to let him. "We need to --"

"I don't want to hear you, either."

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She stares at the clock on her stove. For the longest time, he just watches her stare. Nothing comes to mind except...He's just really glad to see her. Her. At 3:37 AM. In her kitchen. Drinking coffee. Knowing he has to go to work the next day. HAS to. She doesn't want to go, more than anything she'd like to just spend all day in bed. She really can't handle the gossip, though.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, still staring.

"No, you're not."

She glares at him.

"You're not, I won't allow it." He leans back and rests the back of his head in his palms, his long arms sticking up. "I am, though. I fucked up." He whispers.

"Yeah, you did."

"Six hours of talk won't fix it. I know. Just...This is a start, right?"

"Yeah." She goes back to staring at the clock. "Thank you."

"For?"

"Listening to me. Finally." She wills herself to look at him. Just look. She can't. "Everything I said...I just needed you to know."

"I can't say I'm glad I know all of it," he confesses. "You were right, though. Feels good to have that out there." Pause. Too long of a pause. Too damned long.

"I'm so sorry."

"Why do you keep apologizing? You didn't almost fuck up our --" Dare he say it? "Family...?"

"What?" She snaps her head towards him. Whiplash? Not this time. She stares at him.

Oooh. The stomach touching thing.

"Oh. Um...No." She shakes her head. "Family?" She stares in disbelief.

"Yeah, I thought you...? You said "this" and like, touched your stomach like...No?" Say yes. He prays again.

"No," she shakes her head and stares into her coffee cup.

He leans across the table and kisses her gently on the lips. Pulling back, he takes her hand as he stands up and walks to her side, helping her stand up. "Come on," he says. "We need to fix that."

"Not tonight," she whispers, kissing his cheek. "My bed's mine. You're on the couch."