When it Rains

Part 6


The rose on my windowsill lasted longer than I expected, blooming full and beautiful with perfect velvety red petals. I kept it watered diligently, though I was normally horrible with plants. I'm not sure quite why I was so attached to it, but seeing it made me remember his kisses. Made me smile.

When the phone rang that morning, it didn't surprise me. "Hey. It's John."

I smiled at the sound of his voice. It was only ever John who called me. "Good morning, John. How are you?"

"I'm good... listen, I'm coming into the city for the afternoon... I just have a few errands, a few things to check on. I was thinking we could have coffee."

The invitation surprised me, but not unpleasantly. "Of course. I would like that -- very much."

He sounded strangely relieved, and I wondered why. "Great. Lets meet at Nellie's, down near your office, if it's not too far for you? Two o'clock?"

"Certainly. I will see you -- then."


There was a strange feeling of nervousness that accompanied me as I made my way leisurely to the coffee shop in question. Strange because John and I had talked on the telephone many times over the past week, since his defeat of the strangers - about the city, about Shell Beach, about little, inconsequential niceties, though strangely never about Anna - but it seemed like somehow the idea of talking to him face to face unnerved me. Perhaps it was because I felt that I had finally reached a point in my mind where I could separate them somewhat - John and my lost Peter. It was easier to speak with him then, without sorrow, easier to think of John as a new person all together. Even a friend. But I wasn't sure if I could keep that same separation once I saw him.

He was beautiful, waiting for me at one of the tables outdoors, a little tanned from days in the sun at Shell Beach. When our eyes met, he smiled warmly - kindly, like Peter - and stood, pulling out the chair opposite to him. "Hey."

I took the seat, wondering a little at the chivalrous mannerism. "It is good to see you -- again, Mr. Murdoch."

He gave a soft laugh. "John, please. You haven't called me Murdoch since I left the city. Unless of course you want me to call you Doctor Schreber."

He was so kind, so sunny and playful, and it was so much like Peter's teasing that it took me a moment to respond. "No, no. Daniel is fine, John. Thank you."

He gave a little nod toward the teapot steeping in front of me with an empty cup. "I took the liberty of ordering a drink for you, I hope you don't mind."

I shook my head, pouring some and smelling chai. Same as I'd had last time I was with him, or rather, Peter. At this coffee shop, I realized with a sudden shock, though we'd been inside hiding from the rain. "Thank you." I added milk and sugar, stirring the drink more than was strictly necessary, watching as he sipped his coffee before taking a sip myself. "How did you know to -- order tea?"

He gave a little shrug, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "An educated guess, I suppose. You seem like a tea person."

I gave a soft, laugh under my breath, letting the cup warm my hands that were chilly despite the warm weather. Nerves, I supposed. "It seems I am." We sat in silence for a few moments, and I looked up to find him watching me over the top of his cup, green eyes contemplative. I gave him a slight smile. "I hope your trip and your -- errands were successful?"

He shrugged, draining the cup and setting it down. "This was my errand. I wanted to see you."

"Ah..." I felt my mouth go dry, felt my pulse quicken, though I tried to firmly tell myself to stay calm. "Is everything all right?"

"Well... truthfully, I was hoping you could help me with something."

I gave a little shrug, finishing my tea as well. "I will do -- my best."

"Thank you. I just..." He looked out at the street silently for a moment, and gave a soft sigh. "I have these strange things that I'm starting to remember... strange memories I think, just... just fragments really.... I thought you might know something about them."

I watched him carefully, trying to read him. "I can certainly -- tell you what I know. What do you remember?"

He looked to me and gave a little nod, then focused his gaze intently down at the table. "I thought at first it was just..." a soft laugh. "Just fantasies or dreams or something, I... I remember having coffee with you... having coffee here, actually. You left your hat at my apartment, so I had to look you up in the phone book to bring it back. And I...." He stopped, silent for a long moment, then gave a little shake of his head, leaning back in his chair. "Never mind, it's too unbelievable."

I felt my heart stop at his words. Surely he couldn't be.... "Please continue," I said quickly, and he glanced up at me, a little surprised at the intensity of my reaction. "Please," I repeated, willing to beg if I had to.

He searched my eyes for a long moment, intent, then wet his lips. "They are memories, aren't they? From... whoever I was before this, before Murdoch."

"Yes," I managed to whisper, suddenly finding it harder to draw breath than normal.

"Daniel... we were...." He stopped, and the word hung unsaid in the air for a moment. Then he stood in a rush, knocking over the sugar bowl in his haste to arch out across the table, catching my face in his hands, pressing his lips to my forehead, his face to my hair, breath shuddering on my skin. I leaned up into him with a soft, whimpering cry, reaching up to catch his shoulders, cling to them.

"John...."

"We were lovers," he whispered, anguished. "We were lovers, and I hurt you. I promised to take care of you, but I hurt you. Oh god, Daniel...."

"John...." I closed my eyes for a moment, heart racing, hardly daring to believe that this was actually happening. "It's not your fault...."

He drew back a little, trembling fingers stroking restlessly over my hair, my face, over and over as he searched my gaze. "It was you, wasn't it. It -is- you. And the bath house... and your office...."

I felt my cheeks burn, and managed a little nod. "Yes. Your name was Peter. You..." I glanced down with a soft, shy laugh. "You swept me off my feet."

"Peter," he repeated, hands not moving from my face. "I remember that name, I remember...." He stopped. "I did?"

I glanced down, feeling more than a little self conscious, wondering where this would take us. "Of course, John. You were very -- charming. You still are."

He looked a little startled, and glanced around the cafe, as if suddenly realizing what a scene he must be making. He straightened, letting go of me almost regretfully, and tugged a few bills from his pocket, which he left on the table. His hand passed briefly over the toppled sugar bowl, and when it pulled away, it had been righted again, the table spotless. "Can we go talk in your office or something?

I nodded silently, standing slowly, watching him, my heart pounding in my chest. He hesitated for a moment, then moved toward me, placing a hand gently on the small of my back, and I could feel his heat through my jacket, a shiver running up my spine just from the gentle contact. I let him guide me from the cafe, stomach tight with nerves, trying not to hope, but wanting him so very badly.

His voice was warm and soft as we walked, his hand not moving from the small of my back. "Then this is why you tried so hard to get me to trust you. Why you tried so hard to help me."

I looked down at the pavement as we walked, letting out a soft sigh. "Yes. But also... because I am afraid that I -- was the cause of everything that -- happened to you." I glanced up to find him giving me a questioning look, and swallowed. "I am sorry, it... is a little complicated, but -- I will explain everything, John."

"It's all right," he replied softly, still watching me. "Do you want to wait until we get back inside?"

I glanced down the street to the building that housed my office and gave a small nod. "Please. Or if you don't mind, I -- my apartment is on the -- third floor...."

A warm smile. "Wherever you'd be most comfortable."

"Thank you." My apartment was neat and cozy, and I took his jacket from him, hanging it up with my coat and hat. I caught my hands trembling, and forced them to be still, clasping them in front of me. "Please make yourself -- at home. Would you like a -- cup of tea?"

"Daniel." The way he said my name, soft and almost reverent, made me melt entirely. He sat down on the sofa and held out a hand to me, which I took, letting the warmth of his skin comfort me, sinking down beside him. "Tell me what happened," he said softly.

I looked down at our joined hands, taking strength from his touch. "They... they never let me interact with the -- rest of the city. No personal relationships, and definitely nothing intimate. But when we met... it was raining, and we were in -- the bath house, a place the Strangers wouldn't and couldn't check. They couldn't go out -- in the rain, you see. It was the one time I was... free."

He gave a little nod, listening silently, eyebrows knit a little in concentration - or concern. "So you broke the rules to be with me."

I nodded. "I shouldn't have -- continued things," I said softly. "I shouldn't have even... the first time, but... I couldn't help myself, couldn't stay away -- from you, even though I knew what they'd -- do to me, when they -- caught me. What I didn't expect was that -- they would punish you, as well. The Murdoch experiment was chosen for you -- because of me. Because I loved you."

The dark haired man shook his head slightly, gaze sorrowful. "That doesn't make it your fault, not for a moment."

"Please, John -- that is not all." I looked down at our hands, and he gave mine a soft, reassuring squeeze. How long had it been since someone had been so kind to me? There was nothing, before I met him, before I met Peter. "I did not even make the template that -- they wanted me to make. I made the first copy of -- the syringe I injected you with -- in the underneath. The one to teach you -- to Tune. I couldn't let them make you into -- a murderer." I looked up into his eyes, begging him to understand. "So I -- experimented on you."

To his credit, he didn't flinch, features kept carefully calm. "Please explain."

I wet my lips, and told him everything, as far back as I remembered. My skills from before, that they'd allow me to keep. Researching and experimenting in secret. Refining the substance to unlock the power to tune, and the successful tests on the rats. The time it took to gather enough of it to use on a person. How he'd rejected the second implant that would have taught him to use the abilities I'd awoken in him.

"I don't understand," he said slowly, shaking his head. "Why me? Why not yourself?"

I flushed darkly. "For practical reasons... it would do me little good -- without the practice to use it. My access to the memory templates -- was very limited. I would not have been permitted -- to make an imprint that they had not ordered, for myself. This is why even though -- you are not the Murdoch that they -- intended, you still have his childhood. It was a small miracle that I -- was able to make the second template -- for you. And for... less practical reasons...." I gave a soft, breathless laugh, mirthless. "They terrify me, John. Psychologically, I would not -- make a good combatant."

"So you used me."

I closed my eyes at his choice of terminology. "I never planned to. They forced -- my hand."

"I see." He stood abruptly, releasing my hand, and I let my head hang, eyes closed against the misery of his apparent rejection.

"John -- I am sorry..."

I heard him move toward the door and looked up sharply, afraid he was leaving. But he turned, pacing back restlessly, and ran both hands through his hair. "I can't say I like it," he said finally, "but the last time I refused to trust you, it was a huge mistake. I don't want to make that again."

I gave a soft sigh, folding my arms over my chest in an unconciously protective gesture, fingers curling around my biceps. "If you... if you do not want to see me -- again... I will understand, John."

His gaze jerked back to me, and he lowered himself back down to the couch, closer to me than before, gently taking both hands and uncurling them from me, meeting my gaze. "I don't want that."

"But...."

"Maybe I don't like it, but in your place... if they'd threatened someone I cared about and I had no other choice... I can't say I wouldn't do the same as you did." His voice softened. "Daniel. Thank you."

I felt a shiver of relief run through me, and shook my head a little. "I just... couldn't let them -- hurt you."

He smiled softly. "I know. Thank you, really." He gave a soft laugh. "I bet they never saw it coming from you, did they?"

I echoed his laugh, a little self consciously. "No. They did not give me -- that much credit."

He fell silent for a long moment, watching me fondly, stroking the back of my hand with one thumb. "Daniel..." he wet his lips, hesitating. "You said... that Peter swept you off your feet..."

I felt my cheeks burn, and lowered my eyes. "Yes."

He released one of my hands, tentatively, reaching out to touch my face, and I shivered despite myself at the gentleness of his touch. "What are the chances that John could do the same?"

I drew a soft, trembling breath. "Are you certain that -- you want to, John? Your imprint..."

"I am not my imprint," he said fiercely, and I looked up to meet his gaze, green eyes intense. "And I've spent the last week thinking up excuses just to call you. I'm pretty damn certain."

I felt my lips part slightly at his words, heart pounding so hard that I was sure he could hear it. "John... I think your chances are -- very, very good."

He smiled then, warm and beautiful, fingers slipping back into my hair to draw me to him as he leaned in to press his lips to mine. It was tentative at first, just a gentle brush of warm skin against mine, but I couldn't help but arch closer to him, catching his mouth again with a soft whimper before he could pull back. My hand slipped to the back of his neck, drawing him back to me, lips parting under his, and I found that kissing him hadn't changed at all. It still sent the most overwhelming rush down my spine, still made me melt, entirely helpless to him. His passion was still the same, tongue flicking lightly at my lips, then tasting me deeper, arms wrapping tight around me, holding me close. Still gave the same soft little moans of pleasure, gasping against my mouth when we were forced to part for breath.

"God, John...."

He gave a soft chuckle, low and warm against my mouth, dotting soft kisses against my lips, then nuzzling my cheek, breath warm on my skin. "Am I on the right path?"

I tried to catch my breath, pressing my face to his hair, running fingers through his dark curls again and again. "I thought I had -- lost you forever," I whispered, unable to keep back the emotion any longer, shivering against him despite myself.

The soft sigh he gave in reply to my words was almost heartbreaking, arms tightening around me, voice low, all teasing gone. "I'm here. I won't leave you again."

"What about -- Anna?"

"Anna?" he pulled back to look at me, mystified. "The one they tried to make my wife? I haven't seen her since... since the day I ended the night. You thought I'd be with her?"

"I thought you might. She was beloved -- of John."

He shrugged, running a hand through his curls. "I don't think that bit got passed on very well. I mean... I vaguely remember you interrupting somehow with more lessons one time when I was having sex with her, but... it's like watching a movie. There's no emotion there. Not like remembering you."

His fingers came up to touch my cheek again, fingertips mapping my features almost wonderingly, then leaned in to press his lips softly to my forehead. I let my eyes close, turning my face up to the soft kisses that slowly trailed down my forehead, nose, finally catching my mouth again. "I want you," he murmured, and I arched into him, our kisses quickly growing more yearning, hungrier, until he was half over me, pressing me back into the corner of the couch. I let him, craving the feel of him, the comfort of his warmth against me.

"You have me, John. However you want. I've been yours since I met you." I swallowed hard, still not quite believing that he was here with me, that he still wanted me, even now. "I need you."

His lips pressed to my earlobe, then lingered, his breath trembling a little with desire, and when he spoke, his voice was a little husky. "It's so strange, even as vivid as the memories are, I just... I never thought about something like this, never though I'd want... another man. But... Daniel... when I remember us..." his voice dropped, a whispered admission. "It makes me so damn hard...."

I drew a sharp breath at the rush of desire his admittance sent through me, turning to catch his mouth again. I encouraged him with desperate kisses and little tugs closer to me, shifting until I was stretched out under him on the sofa, our words lost to delirious, wanton kisses, legs tangled and hips arching. The same beautiful, helpless need I'd felt with him before, hands tugging at clothing, slipping my hands under his shirt to stroke hungrily over his bare back. "My John..."

He started to kiss down my throat, sucking warmly at my skin, fingers tugging at the buttons of my shirt. "And to think you wouldn't even tell me your name the first time...."

I gave a soft laugh, shivering under his touch, arching my head back. "Well, considering that as soon -- as I did, you started to -- stalk me...."

He gave an teasingly indignant laugh, pushing himself up to look at me. "Stalk you? Here I did you a favor...."

I chuckled, softly, loving watching him smile, and leaned up to kiss him, threading fingers through his hair. "I liked it...."

"Then I'll do it all the time...." He smiled against my mouth, returning the kiss with a soft, appreciative noise.

"Come to bed with me," I murmured, flushing darkly at saying it, but knowing my couch was not the best locale for what I wanted him to do to me. He nodded silently, watching me with a very appreciative smile as he got up carefully, helping me up as well, following me to the bedroom. His hand slipped around to undo the buttons of my vest as we walked, nuzzling my hair. "You know, you wear far too much clothing, doc...."

I turned to face him with a little smile, tugging the button of his shirt undone, speaking softly between kisses. "There are other ways... for you to undress me... if the buttons are too -- challenging, lover." I tugged his shirt off, running hands hungrily over his biceps and shoulders.

He gave a little interested noise, fingers curling around the back of my shirt and undershirt, coat and vest and -pulled-, the fabric slithering over my skin like liquid silk as he tuned it away. "I hadn't thought of this."

It was about the limit of patience for both of us, and I pulled him down into bed with me as we shed the rest of our clothing. I indulged in his skin, inhaling the scent of him as I covered his neck in kisses, feeling his pulse hard and fast under his skin. Teasing him, sucking and nipping until he was fairly writhing against me, grinding hard against me as I was to him.
I needed him, almost more that I had before, needed to be sure that he was really here with me. My body and passion came alive under the hands that stroked my poor rumpled chest so reverently, lips that worshipped my skin with kisses and soft moans of pleasure. Slowly, in the warmth of his embrace and the afternoon sun, I forgot all about them and the indignities and tortures they'd visited on me, and my entire world became John Murdoch.

He built my arousal with attentive hands, fingers slick and careful as they pressed inside me, working my body until I ached for him, begged for him. Then finally, finally pressing me onto my back and taking me, my knees tucked up against his sides, his mouth claiming my breathless cries of pleasure with kisses as he claimed my body.

I held to him tightly, shuddering with the sweeps of pleasure that rushed through me, tearing kisses from his sweet mouth. Arching with him, faster and harder as the pleasure built, more than a little overwhelmed by how very good it was - his cock, hard and deep inside me, coaxing my body to the heights of passion as our forms moved in perfect tandem - one of his hands moving to stroke my erection, coaxing shuddering cries from my throat as he whimpered my name against my lips. "Oh god, Daniel - my Daniel - !"

"John!" My heart was fairly singing, beating hard with love and desire and the most beautiful sense of completion with him, everything that had been denied me through those long years, everything I'd longed for so badly. And all of it now with him, this sweet, beautiful man. It was too much to take, so much pleasure and bliss all at once as we bucked hard and fast together, and he pulled my body swiftly to climax, gasping and shuddering helplessly around him, clutching tightly to him and never wanting to let go. He followed soon after, face buried in my hair, staying pressed close to me as we slowly caught our breath.

I let my fingers tangle in his hair, pressing my lips to his ear, eyes closed as I took it all in. "I love you," I whispered softly, a shiver running through me as the words left my lips.

"Shh... I know." He pressed a gentle kiss just under my ear, reassuring, then pulled back to look at me, green eyes bright with happiness in the sunlight. "My beautiful Daniel."

I felt my cheeks heat, flushing darkly and giving a little shake of my head. "John...."

"Shh," he said again, firmly, and kissed me, soft and warm. "No arguing. I can make you naked whenever I want now, remember."

I laughed softly despite myself, returning his languid kisses. "I have created a monster."

"One that loves you very much," came the reply, murmured against my mouth, and I felt a thrill of happiness run through me at his words. "Even if I did pick you up in a bath house."

The rose on my windowsill had finally begun to wilt, but it didn't matter, not now. I had the real thing, back in my arms again, never to be parted.

~~~Fin~~~

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~c/c are love~