(Untitled)

[trigger_man]

[OOM: A few days ago, Jack helped a flu-ish Beckett up to her room. Of course the next day he can't help but make sure she's okay.]

When he wakes up after another nap, he feels a little warm and sluggish. He needs a walk and some fresh air to clear his head.

After a few minutes outside, he feels better. Much better; almost invincible,

Comments

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett's already feeling much better. The flu took nearly twenty-four hours to work through her system, and after that, she only had a mere sniffle, barely enough for anyone at work to notice.

She's taking a walk outside now, just once around the lake to clear her head, and the air out here is much better for her than some of the streets in Manhattan, anyway.

From where she stands outside, she can almost make out someone standing on the roof of the bar.

Unless she's hallucinating again - and she feels pretty normal by this point - she's half-convinced herself that the person all the way up there is:

"Jack?"

[trigger_man]

He looks down, and for a moment he feels both a friendly kind of affection and a fierce, dark kind of desire.

It's the latter that wins over, retaining only enough sense of Jack to remember the woman's name.

"Hey, Beckett, you should come up and see the view from here."

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett frowns, then squints, using her hand as a makeshift visor to keep the sun's glare out of her eyes as she makes her way closer to the bar itself.

"Why don't you come down here?" she asks, making it more of a kind suggestion. "We can take a walk."

It's strange, she thinks, that he would react this way after what they'd talked about.

[trigger_man]

"Done that already. Come on, you'll like it, I promise," he calls back.

'Come into my parlour', said the spider to the fly...