[After this.]

Jack makes a quick pit stop in his room to change into dry clothes, already feeling the burn on his skin as it warms up again.

Heading back out into the hall, he hesitates for a second outside Beckett's door.  After the awkwardness of him falling on top of her--and neither of them moving for a moment--this might not be the best idea.  But then he'd told her he'd be there in a moment, as as much as part of him has misgivings about it, there's part of him that wants to show that whatever that moment outside had been, it was just an aberration; nothing to see here, move along.

Taking a breath, he raps decisively on her door.
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fanofthegenre: (nice try.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


"Are you kidding me? They were evidence," Beckett says.

"He may have gotten to keep one," she adds, before quickly taking a sip of cocoa.
fanofthegenre: (lost in thought.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


"Obviously," she says, winking.

After a moment, she leans back, relaxing further, staring into the flickering flames.

"What about you? Anything new and exciting to share?"
fanofthegenre: (conversation.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


"Yeah?" She misses the non-look, glancing over toward him after he speaks.

"I get the feeling you're not exactly big on the holidays."
fanofthegenre: (conversation.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


"It's okay. I'm not too big on it myself."

She takes another sip of cocoa.

"Probably because I can't remember the last time I didn't work through Christmas."
fanofthegenre: (new.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


"We try to make time. There's always a Christmas dinner every year. But the rest of it, it's pretty much work."

She draws a face, shrugging.

"Life of a cop."
fanofthegenre: (amused.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


She finishes off her cocoa and sets it aside before turning to face him.

"Okay. I've decided. If I don't get Christmas off back home, I'm just going to have to spend it here. Then at least I'll get some semblance of a break."
fanofthegenre: (decompress.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


"With any luck, the crazy time difference means I'll get two Christmases," she replies.

"And you better. I don't like to think about the possibility of you being - "

Beckett nearly stops herself from finishing the sentence, but the sentiment is already there; there's nothing she can do about that now.

" - well, alone," she murmurs.
fanofthegenre: (jack.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


The helpless feeling Beckett's getting is revealing itself in her expression.

"Too late," she replies, with a small sigh.
fanofthegenre: (eyebrow.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


"It's not exactly the same thing," she says, giving him a pointed look.

Not that she even needs to mention the difference.
fanofthegenre: (disbelief.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


"When did I ever say you were an obligation?" Beckett asks, genuinely taken aback.

"I know you don't want me to worry. Just like I don't want you to." She sits forward, clasping her hands in front of her.

"But I can't exactly help it."
fanofthegenre: (side.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


"A certain level of alone time is natural. It's normal. I'm not about to begrudge you that," she tells him.

"But when you're alone more often than not, when that starts to become the norm - you'd better just get used to the fact that I'm going to want to make sure it doesn't happen with you. Because you're my friend, Jack."

She almost moves to reach out, and then stops, fingers curling in against her thigh.

"And because I care about you."
fanofthegenre: (amused.)

From: [personal profile] fanofthegenre


"Coping is good," she says, nodding encouragingly.

"And, well, you're not alone here. You're even in a place where I can keep an eye on you. So, this is me, telling you I'm a lot less worried now. Although that might change in the foreseeable future if you start giving me more reasons to be."
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