A/N: This is my first fic so reviews would be wonderful because I'm nervous about how good this is.The pairing is J/S becasue they're obviously in love with each other. I don't own the characters, just the story.

I can't take this. Samantha Spade threw herself on the couch and collapsed into it. She hung her head and cradled it with her hands, just wanting everything to go away. The images of the case leapt out at her; the body, the horror, the shock, the girl's eyes, closed forever. It was all too much. She needed a drink, a tall one. Summoning enough energy to drag herself into the kitchen, she poured through the cabinets, but came up empty handed. Overwhelmed with frustration she began tearing the contents of the cabinets onto the floor until they littered it.

"All I want is a FUCKING drink!" She practically screamed out her frustration, kicking a box of crackers in anger. Still angry, she slammed all the cabinets shut and stalked back over to the couch, collapsing again. The tears began to flow, soft at first, but steadily increasing. She did her best to wipe them away. The craving for the comfort of alcohol slowly crept back into her system, gnawing away at her. Giving in, she dragged herself off the couch and clumsily put on her coat. There was a bar just a few blocks away, the closest source of a drink. She knew she wasn't in the best shape to go to a bar, but her emotions were overruling her logic and she grabbed her purse.

She hailed a cab due to the chill of the night. Clouds that threatened snow hung heavily in the night sky. The cab ride was short and soon Samantha found herself stepping into the smoky bar. It was late, but a good amount of customers were there, and they were making a good amount of noise, suggesting that some of them might have had a drink or two too many. Samantha sat by the bar and ordered her drink, praying that it would give her the satisfaction she needed. Before she got it, a man sauntered up next to her and gave her a drunken smile. She forced a small smile back.

"You here alone babe?" His words were slightly slurred and alcohol clouded his breath. When she didn't respond right away, he moved in closer. "Cause I can fix that if you are." He reached out his hand to touch her face, but she slapped it away.

"Don't touch me." Her emotions were already working overtime; she didn't want to have to deal with a drunken sleaze-ball as well.

"Oh so you're feisty?" His eyes glowed as he moved even closer to him. "I like that." He reached out to grab her, but she jerked away from him.

"Leave me alone!" She yelled at him, drawing the attention of the majority of the customers. The guy came toward her, but the bartender came out from behind the bar and got in his way.

"I think you better get out of here buddy." The bartender's words were gruff and final. The drunk backed away slowly before slinking out the door. "Are you okay miss?" The bartender turned to Samantha who was leaning against the bar for support.

"Yeah, thank you." She could tell he wasn't convinced, but left her alone and went back to making drinks. She soon received her drink and after quickly downing it and paying, she left. Wanting to clear her head, she decided to walk. The streetlights illuminated pools of light in the air that otherwise was thick with darkness and cold. She pulled her coat around her tighter, despite the feeling of warmth and comfort her drink had provided her.

She was only about a block from the bar, when a moving shadow caught her eye. She whirled to see what it was, but not fast enough. A familiar odor of strong alcohol surrounded her as she was grabbed.

"Miss me?" His voice was cold and filled with anger. "You're gonna regret turning me down." He was surprisingly strong, but Samantha struggled with him all the same. He threw her against the side of a building, whacking her wrist against the brick. Searing pain shot up her arm, but didn't stop her. She lunged at him, landing a kick to his gut. He grunted, but came after her, tackling her to the ground. He had her pinned, but Samantha pounded on his back, yelling for someone to help her. He put his hand over her mouth, yelling at her to shut up. She bit down on it, hard. He hollered in pain and released his grip on her momentarily. It was enough for her to squirm her way out from under him. She was almost free when he grabbed her ankle, halting her progress. She twisted and kicked, trying to get free, but he had a good grip on her and wasn't letting go. He started to pull her back and she frantically searched for something to grab onto. She clawed at the ground, grasping for anything, but to no avail. She tried kicking free again, but in response, he twisted her ankle, causing pain to ripple through her leg. She had just about given up hope when she heard the sound of sirens. Almost immediately, the hand at her ankle was gone. Samantha twisted her head and saw the headlights of a squad car stopping right in front of her. Relief washed over her.

XXX

"Is there someone who can come get you when you're done at the hospital?" the officer looked at her questioningly, putting his notepad back into his pocket. The police were still looking for the guy, but Samantha had jut given her statement and been checked out by the paramedics. She had managed to come through with only a few scrapes and bruises, but her wrist hurt like hell and the paramedics wanted an X-Ray of it.

"I can just get a cab." She was already not excited of the fact she had to go to the hospital, calling someone in the middle of the night to come pick her up wasn't an enthralling idea.

"The man got away with your purse ma'am.I would suggest having a friend pick you up." The policeman explained.

"Fine." Samantha didn't have enough energy to argue. "Yeah, I can call someone when I'm done at the hospital."

XXX

Fortunately, her wrist was just sprained. Unfortunately, she now had to call and wake someone up at two o'clock in the morning to come pick her up. But who should she call? Samantha looked around the busy ER, dreadinghaving tomake the phone call.Sighing she picked up the pay phone's receiver and dialed a familiar number. She called the person who always made her feel safe. She called the person who always knew what to say. She called the person who she knew would help her however and whenever he could. She called Jack.

TBC...