Plain Sight Exception IX

Disclaimer:  NBC and Wolf Films owns them.
Rating:  PG-13
Summary:  Green
Copyright June 2003, Cassatt


I think I'm gonna kill Lennie. I swear if he keeps looking at me like I've got some problem, that if I'd only handle everything would be fine.... Like hell it would. Fine? Uh uh. Maybe he had a point, a slight one, that a workout would be prudent. Prudent. Like some bench presses would fix "whatever," he says, is bothering me. Like hell they would.

But I'm here, in the workout room, pumping. Thinking, too, unfortunately. I thought the point of lifting weights was not to think. Ah, fuck.

I never imagined Jack McCoy would be a man to go wishy-washy. Never occurred to me. Wouldn't have occurred to me in, say, a trillion years?

"Stop...."

I take a deep breath and begin another set of reps.

"Stop," he said, pushing me away, panting and wild-eyed.

I was still reeling, I admit it. I'd been thrown by the intensity of the guy's kisses, the charge, the heat. Chemistry? Praise God, Allah, and anyone else you can think of. Stop? I was dumbstruck.

"Ed," he said as I was still trying to focus. Name said nine times. Nine was not going to be a magic number, I realized. "Ed," he repeated, "I don't know...." He petered out. He stared.

What?? He didn't know? What was eluding him? Had he missed the enthusiastic response his mouth, tongue, hands and body had been giving me? Huh? I was trying to think but my own body was still humming.

"Well," I finally said, albeit with a bit of attitude but shit, I'm only human, "when you figure it out, give me a call, Jack." I left. I left before giving him a chance to respond.

Looking back, that probably wasn't my finest hour. Or minute. Whatever. And it's not like I have any choice but to look back on it. The damned thing replays almost continuously.

Of course, he hasn't called. I did, maybe, perhaps, half-expect him to, last night. One day to think should be more than enough for a man as smart as Jack. And yes, dammit, he's still "Jack." After all, once a man's tongue has been halfway down my throat I ain't gonna fall back on formality. Not in my head, at least.

What do I want here? I'm not even sure I know any more. There've been times in my life when I've simply gone with whatever felt good at the moment. Followed the flow, took the opportunities that presented themselves. Without planning. I thought that's what I was doing again. But for that one minute we were kissing, it felt so right, so good, so perfect. So easy. Flowing now means to let it go just as easily. I don't know if I'm willing to do that. I don't know fucking much right now.

I shove the barbell up and let it rest. I can't lift any more. Barry called me today. Hoping I would have called him by now. I think I'll go see him tonight.



On to Part Ten, Jack's POV, by Tobias Charity

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