Author's Note: I'm sure this has been done before, but seeing as how I'm new to the fandom, and couldn't find any other versions of the scene, I decided I had to indulge the, uh, bunnies in my head. The summary/title is from The Quotes Garden.

"A Matter of Physics"

He catches up to her in the parking garage, just as she's about to pull out. She pauses with one hand on the gearshift, turning to offer him a smile that looks only marginally surprised through the driver's side window. He takes a step closer and raps on the glass, waiting to speak until she's rolled it down.

"And what if I'm not offended by your assumption?" Chase rocks back on his heels as the look in her eyes changes from amusement to something else.

"Then you'd better get in before I drive away."

The snow is letting up, traffic is light, and Cameron's apartment is only a few miles from the hospital. Still, they don't talk, and the stillness necessitated by driving is uncomfortable. Chase doesn't catch his breath again until her door is shut behind them.

Cameron isn't high this time, but she's every bit as aggressive, and as her fingers skim the hat from his head and work his jacket down his arms, he wonders whether the drugs really had as much effect on her judgment as he'd previously thought. Then the back of his head is hitting the wall just hard enough to jar him, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip, and he's amazed all over again that this is the same woman who seems almost asexual in her professionalism at work.

Her hands release his shoulders and drop to his waist, tugging his shirt from his pants but stopping there. Chase angles his head forward into her kiss, laughing into her mouth as his hands in her hair send her white hat tumbling to the floor. Her fingers tease the skin at the hem of his shirt, and he shivers as she brushes the ticklish spot at his hipbone over and over again.

"Cameron," he hears himself mumble around her lips, but then can't remember what was so important to say. He tells himself that he doesn't need to know why this sudden change, how the most moral woman he knows has just proclaimed her desire for sex neatly divorced from any notion of love. But then she's got his belt buckle undone and her hand down his pants, and he's still pressed helplessly against the wall.

Cameron makes an uncharacteristically girly noise as he takes hold of her waist and lifts her, but it's only a surprised second before her legs wrap around his hips. It takes three rather awkward steps to close the distance between the wall and the bed. Chase takes a step back as soon as she's perched on the edge and pulls his shirt over his head, swiping the heel of his hand over the place she's been tickling.

Cameron kicks off her impractically high-heeled shoes, then sits unexpectedly still. She gives him the barest hint of a smile and quirks an eyebrow. "Well?"

He thinks, like before, that he ought to stop. Ought to ask her what's wrong this time to make her act so uncharacteristically brazen. To find out what's hurt her so badly that she needs to mourn every stranger, every insignificant misfortune in order to ignore her own darkness. But he doesn't know where to start. He's never known how to really connect to anyone. Sex and flattery go only so far, but they're the only things he knows. And so he kneels in front of her.

She leans back and lifts her hips, letting him remove her neatly creased business slacks and slide them to the floor. Her panties have a little pink rose at the top, and Chase presses his lips to it before working them down her hips as well. Her heels are cold against the bare skin of his back as he slides between her legs, and he shivers again. Cameron's hands fist in the sheets as he brushes his lips over the inside of her thigh from knee to hipbone.

She inhales sharply as he presses his tongue into her, and shifts closer to the edge of the bed. He pulls back, teasing, and moves a hand to her hip to keep her in place as she protests. He's slowed by the momentary thought that he could probably force her to talk now, but that's manipulative even for him, and he's enjoying this too much to get kicked out besides. Another few moments and she's twisting the sheets almost to ruins, and he's so hard he can't remember why he cared about the reason. He changes the angle of her hips and increases the pressure, and she's spasming in his hands, falling back heavily against her pillow.

Chase gets clumsily to his feet and undoes his pants the rest of the way, letting them and his boxers fall to the floor. Cameron's smiling at him again, though there's less demand in her eyes than before. "Come here," she says.

She rolls him onto his back the second he's on the bed, the sweat-tangled waves of her hair tickling his chest, and he's reminded again of the drugs. Or maybe she's always like this in bed. Her aggression certainly isn't manifested anywhere else in her life. Her hand wraps around his cock, and he bites his lip to keep from crying out as her fingers play lightly up and down his skin.

Cameron produces a condom from somewhere near the bedside table and tears open the packet with her teeth. She takes no time for pretense, biting her lip until he can see blood as she slides down onto him. Chase pulls her shirt over her head and unclasps her bra as she starts to move, feeling for a second that this is all wrong for its haste. But then he's lost again in the friction of their bodies, in the vibrations of her breathing and the heartbeat thundering in his ears.

He comes hard and fast a minute later, his eyes locked with hers. He thinks he sees a glimmer of triumph there, and knows he will be lost for a very long time.