DISCLAIMER: The Bionic Woman and its characters are the property of NBC. No infringement intended.
SPOILERS: Reference to opening scene of episode "Do Not Disturb"
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
WTF?! Why, why, why did I blurt out that I fucked Pope?! And in front of Jaime! Jesus, I must be out of my mind. No, no, I'm drunk out of my mind. Yes, blame it on the booze.
I didn't feel her presence. The intoxicating smell of her leather jacket hit me first, like a runaway train in the dark.
"Are you alright?" Her voice was cool and guarded, making me respond in kind.
I lift my head from the cool tiles of the bathroom wall instantly missing them and see her reflected in the mirror.
"Yes, of course." Forcing myself to stand straight, I mentally attempt to shake the fuzziness from my head, hoping to put the professional mask back in place. The action has the reverse effect and I find myself slumped against the wall and slowly sliding to the floor. My mind tells me to reach out and hold onto something, but my arms don't react. Unceremoniously, I flop down onto the dirty floor.
She snickers at me before walking over to the sink to tear off some towels and wet them. Bending down, she brushes the cool rag against my flushed skin. Her eyes hold a hint of amusement but behind the hard wall she's built in those iridescent orbs I see a rare moment of tenderness.
Her free hand pushes my bangs back while the other drifts to my neck with the damp towel the only separation between us. A smirk plays at the corner of her lips and I watch transfixed, anchored to the only thing in the room not moving.
"Pope, huh?" Her smirk breaks into a full-blown smile, their brilliant whiteness stark against her cascading dark hair.
"And what's so funny about that?"
"I'm sorry, it's just hard for me to picture. I mean, you don't even have a plant in your office, Ruth."
I struggle to stand again, but she pushes on my shoulder to hold me down, "Stay there, relax." She moves back to the sink to wet the towel again.
"I guess it would be hard to picture."
"Me and Pope, you know," I give the universal shoulder shrug of embarrassment over discussing sex. She kneels down again but instead of placing the cloth against my neck, she rests it at the opening of my shirt. In spite of the coolness, I feel my body heat up causing a new flush to spread across my checks.
"Nothing happened," her eyes have warmed from a cool jade to a deep forest green, "between me and Pope, I mean."
"I know," I look at her puzzled.
"How did you know?" She stands and reaches her hand out to me. I take it, the warmth of her bionic hand startling me.
She steps in closer and I feel the softness of her jacket brush against my skin. I have an intense urge to crawl inside its protective shield. She looks at me as if she holds a secret that once spoken will change everything. It's not until the words are spoken that I realize I was holding my breath.
"Your heart didn't quicken when he was around, like it does now."
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