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“So…” Torres pulls himself up to perch next to Jane, “here we are.”
“Here we are,” she agrees, resolutely staring out of the wide window instead of looking at him.
The view really is beautiful, even as the last of the light disappears from the sky.
“Locked at the top of the Citrus Tower… no signal… no one around… can’t get out until morning…”
Rasing a disparaging eyebrow in his direction, she deadpans, “That does about sum it up, yes.”
She’s resigned herself to the situation. It’s going to be a long night.
Nick seems less confident with the idea of simple patience, managing to sit in silence for all of five seconds before suggesting, “Hey, maybe we could smash out a window and abseil down!”
“Oh, you’re one of them,” she scoffs, leaning back on her hands and crossing her legs.
“One of what?!”
Holding back a smirk at the defensive look on his face, she challenges, “Federal Agents who think that just because they have a badge and a gun… they somehow possess superhuman abilities.”
To Torres’ credit, he only pauses for a beat before batting right back. “Hey, I will have you know that it isn’t my badge or my gun that gives me my confidence-“
“Overconfidence,” she mutters but he carries on as if he hadn’t heard.
“-it’s my impressive biceps.”
For one long, incredulous moment, they simply stare at each other. Then she detects the twitch to his lips and they both burst out laughing.
“Okay so not completely delusional,” she chuckles, “just using overconfidence as a mask to appear in control.”
“Woah, okay!” he protests, grimacing, “don’t psychoanalyse me, I’ve had enough of that recently.”
That checks another note in the mental catalogue she’s been building of Nick over the last two days. Another hint that there’s way more going on beneath the mask than he would ever willingly let on.
She raises an eyebrow, “Oh yeah, what happened?”
“Aha, you wanna list? Being an agent is never dull.”
“That’s very true,” conceding with a chuckle, she prompts, “but this sounds more personal than being caught in a shootout.”
For a moment, he simply stares at her, expression slightly searching, slightly unsure, slightly wary.
Then he drops eye contact and runs his palms along his jeans, “So, Hawai’i, how come you’re out there? Was there not enough water on the mainland?”
Accepting the change of subject, she tilts her head, “My husband, ex-husband-“ she grimaces internally at the slip up- “is Hawaiian. I was away a lot for work, became a field agent so I could watch my kids grow and when the opportunity came for us to take the whole family back there, we jumped at it.”
She doesn’t regret it. Not the becoming a field agent, or the move to Hawai’i, or even the divorce. They’d all been the right things to do at the time, even if they’d been – and are – hard, in their different ways.
“So, this ex-husband thing is pretty recent, is it?”
He’s prying now, they seem to be taking it in turns.
Although unlike him – and against her better judgment – she doesn’t try and change the subject.
“Signed the final papers a month ago,” smiling humourlessly, she holds back a sigh, “still trying to work out how the whole shared-custody thing works.”
“Ah,” he taps a dramatic beat on the edge of the table, “can’t help you there, I haven’t seen my dad since I was five.”
She recognises the tone. The one that only children abandoned by a parent use, infused with a lightness that’s supposed to disguise the sting that’s still being felt, even decades later.
Sardonically, she counters, “And I haven’t seen my mom since I was seven.”
He eyes her with exaggerated appraisal, nodding in solidarity then shrugging, “Well, I guess you’re already learning from her mistakes. You’re there-“ he nudges their shoulders together lightly- “pretty sure that’s the first step.”
She tries to be. She knows she still misses a lot but she really does try her best.
Swallowing because she really can’t be thinking about this right now, she instead teases, “You didn’t strike me as the advice-giving type, Torres.”
“What can I say, Tennant,” smirk firmly on his face, he winks, “I’m mature.”
“Sure you are,” she scoffs, trying to hide her amusement because dammit he’s charming but no way in hell is she going to let him know she thinks that.
The last few days, she’s watched him, single-handedly organising a party on the very first night, daring other agents to ask silly questions and blowing off seminars when they get too boring for him.
She’d love to say she’s been immune to it. But, hey, she doesn’t exactly have a leg to stand on when she’s here, trapped at the top of a tower. Just the two of them. All night.
“Hey!” he protests, placing his hand just behind hers so the distance between them closes as his voice drops, “I’m mature enough to know that whatever happens tonight, I’m not going to regret.”
She’s put herself in this position and she knows it.
The problem is that he’s just so easy to flirt with. And there is a genuine depth behind the ego. But mostly he’s just fun to flirt with.
Fun is what she’s been needing, a chance to just let go a little bit after the tension of the last year.
Still not quite sure if this is a good idea, she tilts her head, whispering suggestively, “And what’s going to happen tonight?”
His eyes flick to her lips and back, “As much or as little as you’d like.”
And with all the confidence she’s sensed rolling off him in waves the last two days, he closes the distance between them, brushing their lips together gently at first then more deeply, his hand running up her arm until it reaches the back of her neck.
Her hands raise automatically to his shoulders and she lets him lead for a while, soaking in the warmth of it all until his thumb skims her cheek in a movement that doesn’t feel like it’s meant for her.
Then she pushes on his shoulders, applying gentle pressure until he backs off.
“I’m being made SAC of the whole Pacific Rim,” she tells him quietly – her promotion isn’t general knowledge yet but it feels important to be honest in this moment- “with the chances of you working under me at some point… this is not a good idea.”
Amusement shines in his eyes, “Since when did ex-CIA turned Navy cops care so much about being team leaders?”
Leaning back, she narrows her eyes, “Why do you think I’m ex-CIA?”
“You give off that vibe,” he shrugs.
That feels like it could be an insult.
“What vibe?”
Then again, she does understand the reputation the CIA has with other agencies. And she’s not exactly disputing it,
“Mysterious. It’s okay, I know I give off that vibe too.”
He tilts his chin up dramatically and she holds back a snort. “Do you, now?”
“Yeah and together we’re just dynamic, explosive,” his eyes light up, “T’N’T! You know, ‘Tennant and Torres’.”
Staring off into the middle distance, he makes an explosion motion with his hands and the hilarity of it nearly gets the better of her.
“Are you proud of that one?” she snips and he shrugs with an almost bashful grin.
“A little, yeah,” she shoots him a look and he rolls his eyes, brushing their shoulders together again, “come on, Tennant, we’re never gonna actually work together. DC is miles away from the Pacific Rim.”
The pragmatist in her wants to find a hole in his reasoning.
The emotional exhaustion in her just wants to forget about everything, for a little while.
“You that sure you’re not gonna be moving anywhere else?”
“I’m not really a promotions person. I spent too long working alone. And my team, they’re good people.”
It’s a rare moment of sincerity from him that she appreciates.
“Family?”
He pulls a face – another defence mechanism, she knows – but nods, “If you wanna get all mushy about it, sure.”
Despite his defence, she understands the importance of finding family in her team. She’s not quite there yet, a bit too much bad blood with one or two of her teammates who are not going to appreciate her new promotion, but she knows exactly what she wants to build.
Still, there’s something in Nick’s face. Something that confirms what she’d been thinking.
“It’s not just that though, is it?” she asks carefully, “there’s a person?”
A shutter falls over his face immediately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t,” she rolls her eyes – she doesn’t want to push but- “look, Torres, I won’t be used as a way for you to run away from something. I have more self-worth than that. However…” looking him up and down, she smirks- “tempting this is.”
For a moment he just stares back at her, then with a level of maturity that doesn’t fit the mask he puts on, he replies simply, “As you should. And besides, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
She frowns, “I’d like to believe that’s true, I’m just not sure I do.”
It’s not that she thinks he’s purposefully lying to her. Just that she thinks he’s lying to himself.
“Look, you’re not looking for anything, neither am I. We both know where we stand, so why not…” he trails suggestive circles on her leg with his fingertip- “have a little fun.”
Reaching out, she lays her hand over his. “Only if you’re honest with me. There is someone isn’t there?”
The uncertainty seeps out of him in a way she’s not sure many pick up on. Maybe his team, she can’t see something like this getting past Gibbs.
(Then again, she also can’t imagine Gibbs talking to his agents about their love lives.)
He’s not looking at her, his gaze is lowered, a million miles from his previous overconfidence, and she leans down to catch his eye.
“It’s a recent thing, you haven’t quite accepted it yet…”
“Maybe,” he blurts.
His eyes widen a fraction and he takes a shaky breath, removing his hand from under hers and smoothing it down his jeans.
She doesn’t have to ask to know it’s the first time he’s ever admitted it aloud.
“Maybe,” he repeats, more quietly, “I care about her, and recently I realised that… well there was a lake and she nearly drowned and… I just, I haven’t quite worked out how I feel yet. And I don’t really want to, because we’re teammates first and foremost.”
He’s staring down at his hands and she has an impression that might be the only reason he’s still talking.
Silent and unmoving, she simply listens, feeling like she’s hearing a stream of unconscious thoughts more than anything.
“She’s one of my closest friends, she’s had my back from the moment we met. Which admittedly, did involve her holding a gun in my face-“ she raises her eyebrows at his half chuckle- “but after that. And even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise what we have. Not for something that won’t last.”
When he seems like he’s not going to continue, she prompts softly, “How do you know it won’t last?”
He shoots her a sort of grin, sort of grimace. “I’m just not that kind of man.”
Ah, commitment issues. A free-wheeling, love ‘em and leave ‘em type.
Or at least, that’s how he fancies himself. But he’s worked undercover, that rolls off him in waves, and that doesn’t leave a lot of room for relationships – she knows that herself, even if their situations were different.
Maybe he hasn’t had chance to be anyone else.
“I used to think I wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted a family but I eventually realised I was wrong. I wanted a family; I just didn’t want to be defined as a mother. I’m so many other things too-” she smiles privately- “although I am quite probably proudest of my children.”
So many things are important to her but she’d known from the moment she’d laid eyes on Alex that she’d never love anything or anyone more.
Somehow it’s been fifteen years since that moment and he’s the kindest, sweetest boy.
And a big brother with just the required amount of patience to exist in the same house as who Daniel refers to as her double in regard to passion and strength.
Julie is going to grow to be a strong independent woman, she already knows.
“As you should be. They’re amazing.”
His voice breaks her out of her thoughts and she shakes her head at him, amused. “You’ve never met them! You don’t even know how old they are.”
“I don’t need to,” he protests, “they were raised by you, I already know.”
“You hardly know me either!” she reproaches.
Unbothered, he shrugs, “Yeah well, I’m a good judge of character.”
“Sure you are,” this time she’s the one to tap their shoulders together, “anyway, as I was saying. People change. Plans change. We realise we aren’t who we thought we were. That’s just a part of life.”
It suddenly hits her just how surreal this entire experience is.
She’s stuck at the top of the Citrus tower. With lone wolf extraordinaire Nick Torres. Who she has kissed. And is now having a deep conversation about life and love and change.
This isn’t what she’d expected from a conference in Orlando.
“I guess so. I always thought I didn’t want children-” he’s back to refusing to meet her eye, his voice uncharacteristically low- “but I’m beginning to think I’m just… worried I’ll be as shit at it as my dad was.”
Jane takes a breath. “Like you said, just being there is the first step.”
“I think the first step is finding someone you want to have a child with,” he counters ruefully.
“And you’re sure it’s not this… teammate?”
She knows it’s a step too far the moment his gaze snaps to hers, an unreadable emotion shining there for a long second before it drops and his entire face does a reset.
“Okay, if we keep talking about her, I’m not going to be able to keep my promise of not thinking about other people while I kiss you.”
He suddenly seems much closer to her again.
Not that either of them has really moved, they’re still sat on the same table, their thighs are brushing against each other. But he’s facing her, properly facing her, gazing deeply into her eyes like maybe he’s been taking as much notice of her over the last few days as she has him.
“I told you, this is a bad idea.”
“Look, I haven’t…” he flexes his fingers reflexively- “I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this when I haven’t even properly thought it all out myself yet!”
She watches the emotions play across his face, the agitation becoming a resigned resolve.
“Sometimes it’s easier to open up to a relative stranger,” she points out, lessening the weight of the reminder of their current situation with a half shrug, “we might never see each other again after this conference. That feels like less pressure.”
He hasn’t been the only one to open up. She’d been hoping this trip would be freeing, more for the change of pace than anything, but she has to admit – if only to herself – that Nick has been a welcomed addition.
“Right,” he offers her a genuine smile, “but my point is, I know nothing is going to happen with me and this teammate. Not for a very long time, if ever. Tonight, it’s just you and me and this beautiful view.”
As he finishes, his smile becomes more charming… but less real.
Amused because she sees right through the act that she’s sure works for most women (and mildly reproachful because there’s something about him enticing her in anyway), she shakes her head.
“Nick, in order to see the view, you need to actually look out the window.”
It’s the first time she’s used his first name. She can’t quite decide if it carries weight or not.
He ruins her thought train by winking. “Maybe I have all the view I need right here.”
“Uh huh,” she grimaces, “sure.”
The cheesy lines don’t work on her. Which she gets the sense he somehow finds more attractive when a light appears in his eye.
She’s aware she’s not like most of the women he talks to.
“Jane.”
The first time he’s used her first name. She decides it does have weight. Or maybe it’s just the way he’s somehow closing the distance between them without seeming to move, his gaze dancing between her eyes and her lips.
“You say the word, we stop. We can just talk, we can even try and sleep if you want.”
She swallows, her gaze dipping to his lips as he inches closer, hand finding its home next to hers again.
“I don’t sleep much,” she quietly reveals.
Because of her job is what she tells people, the always being on call.
Really, it’s the peace that she finds in the darkness. Nighttime is when she doesn’t have anything else she needs to be doing, no meals to plan or difficult conversations to be had, no one relying on her to be a mother or a leader.
She loves her job, she loves her life. But she loves those moments of peace too, safe in a layer of darkness.
“Me neither,” he whispers in the last moment before their lips meet, “I’m much more of a watch the night sky kinda guy.”
And as his hands rise to her hair and hers find his jaw, she understands exactly what he’s saying. That he finds peace in the night too, a reassurance in the enormity of the night sky above him.
There’s a lingering softness to their kiss, one that feels like it’s actually meant for her this time.
It’s infused with a gratefulness for the space they’re giving each other to talk that neither will actually voice aloud.
“Hmm,” she breathes between kisses, “there is just something about stars. The way they twinkle.”
He pulls away, only far enough to look at her. “Do you know why stars twinkle?”
Amused, she shakes her head, “I can’t say I do.”
With a gentle smile, he nods out of the window. The light that’s been slowly bleeding from the sky for the last hour has finally drained to an inky blue and the pinpricks of stars are appearing all around them.
He trails his fingers up and down her arm. “The atmosphere around Earth is turbulent so it effects the diffraction of light from the stars, making it seem like they’re flickering. Planets don’t twinkle because they’re too close for it to make a difference.”
Raising an eyebrow, she chuckles, “Wow, Nick, I did not take you for a science nerd.”
Instantly his jaw drops and he makes a comically outraged noise, “I’ve been many things in my time, Agent Tennant, but never any sort of nerd!”
“Well, you say that, but I’ve never had anyone stop kissing me to explain the science behind the twinkling of stars before,” she points out, teasingly, “so if that doesn’t make someone a nerd, I don’t know what does.”
Holding back a smirk, he admits, “I just got bored one night and googled it. That’s pretty much word for word from the article. I don’t even know what half the words mean. I mean, diffraction? What even is that?!”
Shaking her head at his dramatics, she bites back her own smile. “You know most people try and pass stuff like that off as things they already know to make themselves sound smarter, not deny even knowing what it means.”
“I don’t need to sound nerd smart. I have street-smarts!”
He levels up his fists to mime fighting but she just pushes them down again, deadpanning, “Uh huh, the street smarts you were going to use to abseil two hundred and twenty-six feet down to the bottom of this tower.”
“Okay, I wasn’t being serious!”
Her eyebrows rise in disbelief. “Sure you weren’t.”
“Well, I obviously wasn’t gonna try and abseil all that way. We don’t have a long enough rope for one. Besides,” he grins at her, “who’s the nerd now? You know exactly how tall this tower is!”
“It’s called being aware of your surroundings, Nick. Maybe I just have more street-smarts than you,” she challenges, watching the way his eyes fill with an exultant light.
“Not possible.”
Crossing her legs primly, she leans back on her hands, “Well, it’s not exactly quantifiable so I don’t know how you’re going to prove that.”
“I can prove it. I can take down more bad guys than you. And faster too.”
If she didn’t know it was a mask, she would probably wonder how his neck is strong enough to support the weight of his head.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. I’m efficient.”
She can’t hold back her scoff at that. “Sure you are.”
Smirking, she covertly inches towards him, pressing their thighs together.
“But what about the times a subtler approach as better? I may be highly capable at hand-to-hand but I also know that sometimes there are more… effective ways to disarm someone.”
He gasps in mock-horror, “Better than a punch?”
“Uh huh,” she leans in to whisper in his ear, “more fun too.”
“Ah, Jane Tennant-“ there’s amusement shining in his eyes as she backs off, sitting as if nothing happened- “you have hidden talents.”
“I do. It means I can take down more ‘bad guys’-“ she despairs at the overgeneralisation- “because they always underestimate me. You wear your talents on your sleeve. Or, under your sleeves.”
She looks pointedly to his biceps and he flexes. It’s not the first time she’s seen him do it and she knows it won’t be the last. It seems to be something of a reflex for him.
“Nothing wrong with a show of strength. Besides, you couldn’t take me by surprise.”
Taking that as a challenge, she raises an eyebrow, “I’m not so sure.”
Nick chuckles, “I mean you can try but-“
She cuts him off with a kiss, leaving him flailing as he trails to catch up, not seeming to be able to decide quite where he should put his hands.
It’s different from their other kisses. The first had been experimental, the second soft. This is a pure passionate joy, a playful fighting for control.
When she finally pulls away, they’re both breathing heavily and he looks at her with that same joyful light in his eye.
“I stand corrected.”
Smirking victoriously, she pulls him close once more, idly wondering how their unlikely situation is somehow giving them everything they need in this moment.