Jassandra One Shots

Flannel Shirt

"Um, guys?" Cassandra's tone sent a chill through Stone's spine. That was her "something is really wrong but I'm trying to not scream so I'm playing it cool" tone.

Cassandra had been bringing up the rear with he and Baird up front. They both turned around at the tone and gasped. Somehow the machinery had been turned on . . .and what was worse is that Cassandra appeared to be stuck on it.

"Cassandra!" Baird shouted, running forward. Stone remained glued to the spot, shock rendering him incapable of moving. Cassandra did scream then as she was unable to keep her footing and was being sucked forward.

"What happened?" Baird yelled, trying to pull her off the machine.

"I tripped I think," Cassandra struggled but that just made things worse.

"Don't move," Baird urged her. Baird gave another tug and then yelled at her colleague. "Stone! Get over here!"

Stone shook his head as if to clear his spell of panic and raced forward. He quickly accessed the situation, there was no visible switch on the machinery to shut it down. It probably had a failsafe but he had no idea how to trigger it. It was best to get Cassandra out.

"Ouch!" Cassandra managed to get her hair out of the machinery but her clothes were still stuck.

"Okay, okay, we have to pull her out," Stone said, grabbing onto Cassandra's waist with one hand and digging a pocket knife out of his jeans. He tossed it to Baird and yelled over the machine noise. "You might have to cut her out."

Baird nodded and they worked together to free the redhead. Cassandra let out the briefest of whimpers as she heard her blouse tear off and then Baird had to cut the sweater off of her to finally free her.

She stood, mostly safe, a little sore because Stone hadn't been able to be gentle with her and a small cut on her hand from freeing her hair. She was blushing because she was standing in front of them, wearing basically rags. Even the camisole she had on under her blouse had a rip in it.

Stone was trying to avoid looking at her especially since her lacy red bra was on display. He looked over at Baird who looked sad. Baird only had blouse on, not a jacket or sweater that could be loaned to the other woman. Without a word, he unbuttoned his flannel shirt and shrugging it off, held it out to Cassandra. He shivered when the air hit his thin undershirt but better him than Cassandra catching cold.

Cassandra thanked him, but still looked embarrassed. She also . . .Stone had to suck in a deep breath when she'd gotten the shirt on. He'd always had a thing about a woman wearing his shirt. But on Cassandra? All he could think of suddenly was that red bra and a Sunday morning and her in his kitchen wearing his shirt. Which would be all well and good if they were actually a couple where that scenario was possible.

She was staring at him and flushed red anew. Was he that obvious? Was she reading his thoughts?

Baird cleared her throat. "Come on, we don't have much time."

Neither he nor Cassandra had any time to change. They were too busy saving the world. There came that point in a mission where one of them had to do something dangerous in order to save the rest as well as a whole lot of other people. This time it was Stone's turn to do that. He and Cassandra were alone, making the last preparations before he had to face his destiny.

She walked over to him, intending to say goodbye. But all that came out was a shaky "Jacob . . ." and then suddenly they were kissing. Wet and hard, passionate and desperate but with just a tiny bit of sweetness and something else. As he broke away with a whispered, "see you on the other side, Cassie." Cassandra realized what the emotion was: hope.

They left her alone after the explosion. She stood in the control room where Jacob had kissed her goodbye, her nose pressed into his shirt, breathing in his scent. She was trying not to cry. He had to have made it. Ezekiel and Colonel Baird would find him. It would all be fine.

But as the minutes ticked by and there was no word . . . .

She found the tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting the fabric. Once they started, she couldn't stop them and she sobbed. It wasn't fair, she and Jacob never had a chance. She was supposed to go first. It wasn't fair!

Then suddenly through the haze of tears, she thought she saw someone come in the room. She went to wipe her eyes, not wanting Baird or Jones to see her like this.

But then she heard a rough voice, "hey now, that's my favorite shirt."

"Jacob?" she wiped her eyes and there he was. Banged up, filthy, but alive. So alive. And she didn't care if he was covered in ashes, she ran into his waiting arms.

"We're getting your shirt all dirty," she whispered, finally lifting her head from his shoulder where she'd had it resting as he held her tightly.

"I don't care," he whispered back, moving so he could kiss her. "And keep it. I have a feeling that won't be the only shirt of mine you ever wear."

Cassandra blushed but giggled softly before leaning back in for another kiss. And that feeling of hope grew. It was going to be just fine.

The End