A/N: I know this is very soppy, but I actually don't mind that much. And this chapter is for Beth, since she's feeling so rotten and needs some sappy Sherry goodness to cheer her up.
Sandra was in Gerry's arms when she woke very suddenly. She wasn't sure what woke her up, but she knew she was no longer comfortable being held tight by Gerry. She wriggled free gently and looked at the digital clock. It read 04:11, and she heaved a sigh as she rolled over to face the window, with her back to Gerry. She closed her eyes again and attempted to sleep, but it was no use.
After what felt like over an hour, she heard Gerry groan and roll over, and she froze dead when she felt a soft kiss to her neck. She pretended she was sleeping. Oh, Christ, what was she meant to do?! "I love you," he whispered. She clearly wasn't meant to be hearing this, as he'd woke in the early hours of the morning to tell her this.
"I love you more than I've ever let on," he told her. She felt something warm inside her in the knowledge that he actually did feel the same as her about all this. "I know I wind you up. I do it on purpose a lot of the time. I act the fool to see you smile when you're miserable. I love it when you smile, Sandra, and you don't do it often enough."
She could feel his hand on her hip, and she forced herself to keep her eyes shut. It took all of her self-control not to turn around and kiss him. It took everything she had not to let him know she could hear his confessions.
"All the times I went after other women, I think part of me was trying to make you jealous, as stupid as that must seem," he laughed lightly to himself. So he'd been trying to tempt her, had he? Trying to make her jealous? Well, it had bloody well worked. All the women he'd had in all those years, and she hadn't thought much of any of them. Especially that ex-detective all those years ago. She had really annoyed her.
"I love you," he whispered again, and buried his face into her neck. She couldn't do this. She couldn't resist anymore. This was where she was going to find it. Whatever it was.
She threw her body around a hundred and eighty degrees and caught his lips in hers. "Boo," she smiled into his lips. She could see the shock in his eyes in the low sunlight of an early summer morning. She broke away from him and taunted, "You really should be more careful and check people are actually asleep before you spill your guts out to them."
"So should you," he accused, and her heart skipped into her mouth. "You didn't actually believe I slept right through everything you said?" he asked her incredulously. "Of course not. I tried to tell you earlier, when I said about having a dream."
That warm feeling in the pit of Sandra's stomach suddenly turned to ice. "This is a dream," she whispered. It was too perfect to be a reality.
She woke with a start, for real this time, in Gerry's tight grip, her head under his chin, on hand on her hip and the other arm under her neck. She could feel cold sweat on her back, and her breathing was uneven. She had definitely kissed him last night – that she remembered perfectly well due to her embarrassment – but that last incident was a fantasy. The past two nights, with Gerry's arms wrapped around her, her sleep had been filled with fantasies that never became reality.
She stuck to him like a limpet clung to a rock. It was as if the only security she could get these days came from him. She had only three people constantly in her life nowadays: Brian, Steve and Gerry. Brian was unpredictable and erratic and had to be watched. Steve was always pulling one stunt or another, and he had a way of causing trouble with mobile phones. But Gerry was easy. She knew when Gerry was going to do something beyond idiotic, and she knew how to stop him. He was consistently funny, and he could make her smile when no-one else could.
A wave of madness fell over her and she tapped his chest, trying to wake him, "Gerry," she said to him gently. "Gerry!" she whispered more forcefully. "Gerry!"
He just grumbled something incomprehensible and tightened his grip on her. She slapped his cheeks very lightly and he woke up. "What?" he moaned groggily.
"Want to go for a walk?" she suggested. It was insane to suggest that when it was only just pushing five in the morning, but she wanted to spend some time alone with him without worrying about other people noticing she was about to break.
"What time is it?"
"Ten to five."
"Are you bloody mad?!" he demanded with a grumpy groan, sitting up and pulling her up with him. His arm was still draped around her neck, and he gazed down at her, trying to make sense of such an odd request. He sighed and got out of bed, getting dressed. Sandra, realising he had decided to humour her, did the same. They snuck out, and Sandra barely bothered with her appearance.
They walked down to Loch Portree, and sat on the banks, both admiring that beautiful view. Sandra was so confused. She was never confused. This was downright scary, falling in love. Because that was what she was doing, and she couldn't stop herself anymore.
"Sandra," Gerry said, laying a hand on her leg. She knew what he was up to. He was trying to get her to open up. "What's all this about? Not that this isn't lovely and everything, but it's a bit odd for you to do something like this."
"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "I don't know what this is. I don't know what I should be feeling. I swear I didn't mean to kiss you last night. You do realise that, don't you? I didn't mean to upset you or anything," she checked. "I just..." she trailed away, picking up bits of grass and stripping them apart just so she didn't have to meet his eyes.
"Look at me," he ordered her. She ignored him, and he put a hand under her chin and pulled her face around so she had no choice but to look at him. "There's nothing, Sandra, nothing you can't tell me."
The sun was warming the air rapidly and she felt it beating on her face. "There is plenty I can't tell you," she scoffed. "Believe me."
She searched his eyes for the answer she wanted from him, to a question she hadn't asked. What was she so scared of anyway? Gerry wasn't going to hurt her. Under all that brawn and that tough cookie act, she knew he was soft as putty. "Explain this. I can't understand it," he explained to her.
"You know me by now, Gerry," she breathed out, so her voice was little more than a whisper. But in the still of the morning it didn't matter. "I'm too hard, too used to being alone, to let anyone in. My own mother has given up on me," she laughed humourlessly, trying to take some of the electric tension for the tiny space between them.
"You're not," he countered. "You're scared. There's a difference. I know you, like you said, and I know when you're scared. You've been terrified ever since I put our beds together. You just didn't push the issue so I wouldn't work out what you were scared of. I get it. I really do. You don't know how to deal with being human anymore, because you've blocked it out for so long."
There. He'd got it in one and he knew it. He had stripped her right down to her heart in one little speech. She had forgotten what human emotion that strong actually was. She had forgotten what it was to have someone to hold her during the night.
"Why do you do that?" she asked gently. "Why do you try and understand me?"
"The other option is to get pissed off with you, which I don't want to do. I understand your motives, Sandra," he reassured her. She didn't think it was even possible, but at that last sentence, she fell in love with him even more. She was in love with him, and she couldn't deny it anymore. She refused to deny it to herself anymore. What was the point?
"That's good, because I'm not sure I understand it," she quipped.
He didn't give her a reply. Not a verbal one, at least. His hand wandered to the back of her head, pulling her in towards him. She just sighed to him, "I'm yours."
She kissed him, and it was different this time. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't spur of the moment. It was emotional, and it was meaningful. It was perfection.
Hope this is OK!
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