Okay, by popular demand (and the fact that I've been wanting to write this one for about three months), here's an episode tag to Heroes Part II, I think you know the scene I'm talking about. I really enjoyed writing this one, and I hope you like it, too:) By the way, this little fic assumes that none of those nasty Sam/Pete moments happen in Season Eight.


Sam entered Jack's room, her hands sweating. Strictly speaking, she didn't need to be here, but she wanted to see him. The image of that blast hitting him in the chest, of him falling to the ground… no, she couldn't think of that right now.

She just wanted to tell him… to tell him…what? That she was glad he wasn't dead? That she couldn't have faced losing him, especially on top of losing Janet? That had been hard enough. Losing Jack would have been… no, she couldn't think about that either. But she was. Even as mundane words about the service and Cassie came out of her mouth, filling the void between them, she was thinking about it.

And now the tears were coming, and as much as she hated it, she couldn't stop them. And then she was in his arms, his big hands across her back and shoulders, his warmth and alive-ness enveloping her in hope and, maybe, love. She held him tight, careful of the wound in his torso, and felt his face slip down to her shoulder to the place where he fit, where he always seemed to belong whenever they embraced.

And she cried. She cried for Janet, cried for him, and cried for herself. She cried for a long time and still he held her. She knew he hated tears, and still he held her, lending his strength, letting her pull from him what she needed.

Finally she began to quiet, and he partially released her, knowing by her body language that there was something else, but she was too embarrassed by her tears to look him in the eyes. So he put both hands to her face and stroked away her tears with his thumbs. She looked at him then, surprised by the tenderness and intimacy in his touch.

"What is it?" he asked quietly. Three little words, but she knew exactly what he was asking.

She swallowed, afraid of his reaction, but knowing she could no longer hide from him.

"I can't do this anymore, sir."

"Can't do what?"

"I can't pretend anymore. I can't keep going, pretending there's nothing… that I don't… that I…" she struggled momentarily to find words, but then stopped trying as his mouth closed over hers, effictively eliminating all coherent thought from her brain.

He was the only thing that existed in her world, even as that world blew up around her. His touch was warm and soft, his kiss as tender as it was urgent. His lips caressed hers again and again, and each time the touch seemed to say, "I'm here, it's going to be okay, I'm here."

Then something changed and now her hands were in his hair and she was opening her mouth, seeking his tongue with hers, and the heat that rose within her matched the despair she had felt a moment earlier in its intensity. A second later, his hands were on her back, lifting her shirt and caressing her skin. He was hot, almost feverish, with passion and she shivered as he stroked her.

Fully meshed with him now, Sam gripped his neck and hair as he slid kisses over her neck, sucking on her ear and hearing her gasp and moan. He moved back to her mouth, his hands on her sides now, sliding up to cup her neck, and slowing them down, still kissing her lightly, taking his time. He still wanted to touch her, didn't want to break the contact that had grown so vital in the last five minutes.

Finally, foreheads still touching, still brushing kisses over her lips, Jack spoke. "Marry me, Sam."

"Absolutely." she said immdiately

He did smile then, his cockiness returning. "What about Pete?" he asked.

"Pete who?" Sam returned, putting a hand behind his neck and pulling him to her once more.