Waiting For The Axe To Fall
Jessica S

Summary: This will end.
Classification: Angst. K/J.
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Coveted at breathe@mail.nu
Disclaimer: Third Watch and its characters do not belong to me, but of course, you knew that.
Notes: This is my first Third Watch fic, any criticism welcomed.
Thanks: So very much to Karen T, aka the best beta reader in the whole, entire world. I love you so much dear. You're just so incredible.

Somewhere in his soul, he knows this will eventually end.


Hearing the click of their teeth a moment before her tongue intertwines with his, before her eyes flutter shut, lashes brushing against her pale, smooth cheeks.

Pushing Kim against the wall. Feeling her soft skin against his palms, against his fingers. Feeling vibrations tremble down his throat at her gasp.

Exploring her mouth with his. Her hands wandering, sliding up his chest. A touch of her fingers against his arms, his shoulders, and his collarbone through the cotton of his old shirt. His hand sliding up her sweaty back, dusted lightly with pale freckles.

Tightening the grip of his hands on her bare shoulders, submitting to his weight. Her ragged breathing and desperate pleas as he pushes inside her. Her shout as she tumbles over of the edge of ecstasy.


Waking up in the morning, golden sun bathing across bare skin, the stark, white sheets bearing the depression of their joined bodies. Waking up to her steady, even breathing or a gentle shove and exasperated "Jimmy!"

Kissing her in the morning, gentle and loving, while his hands tangle in her hair. And her smiling, smiling wide and happy, eyes round and green, so green.

Smelling fresh coffee drip through the filter, gathering, gathering. Cutting tomatoes into small, perfect cubes, cracking eggs against the pristine counter.

Sitting at the table, a family, after being broken for far too long.


Leaving home and arriving at Camelot together, his fingers on her hipbone. Sunlight filtering through the clouds, the pollution, the wind whipping her hair into his face.

Enduring the good-natured ribbing of Walsh ("It's about time you guys got back together. You were driving all of us crazy with the lovesick eyes and high-pitched screams"), DK ("Let's hope we're not in for another round of Kim and Jimmy, the unfortunate love story") and Lombardo ("Oh God. No, not again. I almost went blind five years ago when I caught you two doing it in the shower").

Watching Doc smile when he kisses her cheek or touches her elbow.

Answering Alex's questions ("How did Joey react when he found out you guys got back together?") with "I think he was really happy. He's wanted this for so long."

Meeting Kim's eyes across the room and smiling reassuringly as the fire alarm rang, rang, rang. Seeing her mouth, "Be careful," and answering silently, "I will. I love you."

Seeing her smile.


Picking up Joey at Catherine's, listening to the Beatles on the car stereo, and singing with Joey at the top of his lungs while Kim shakes her head, teeth flashing.

Unlocking her door with his own key, flicking on the light and watching the darkness fade away. Telling Joey, "It's late young man, go to sleep," and ignoring his shouts of, "C'mon Dad! I'm eleven!"

Talking with Kim at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee. Talking about everything, anything, just like they used to. Talking about Joey, Brooke, Melanie, Bobby, and the future.

The future.


Lying in bed with her in his arms, warm and solid.

Her whispering into the silence, "Goodnight, Jimmy. I love you."

Him smiling, and rubbing her back.

Talking about the memories, the past.

Falling asleep with the echo of her words in his head, in his heart:

I love you...


Has happened before.

The fights will, inevitably, begin again.

She will cry and he will slam doors behind him.

Joey will cover his ears and hide in his closet.


Will End.

He knows it.