Author: Solitary Wanderer (Lis)

Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to own the characters in Without a Trace, I do not. They belong to Steinburg, Bruckheimer and all the CBS people. I only own the ideas. (Don't own the Song either, it's owned by R.E.M.)

Everybody Hurts

When you're sure you've had enough, of this life,
Well hang on.


Special Agent Spade frowned, running a hand hurriedly through her blonde hair that hung in her face. She was hunched over her cubicle, staring at the bright and happy picture of the beautiful caucation blonde girl who smiled brightly up at her.

She bit her lip, trying to force back the emotions and pain that she felt begin to arise within her. One thing they hadn't really prepared or prepped one for this job, was to deal with the pain... the aching saddness one got from finding their Missing Person dead, murdered, raped...

They hadn't done it. They hadn't made it this time around...

The girl hadn't even had a chance.... She was seven years old and-and...

She sniffed, and wiped a tear that threatened to run down her check away with the back of her sleeve. She couldn't do this. Not at work... She needed to be strong. After all... that's what she was. Strong, tough... She didn't need any sympathy crap from anyone else.

Checking her watch, she saw it was 7:47pm, Christmas Eve... What a day... The day before Christmas and it had to be depressing.

"You can't save them all. As much as we'd like to. We can't Samantha. We're only human..."

She knew like the rest of the team that they couldn't save everyone they looked for. It was impossible. The world was just too big, too unpredictable, too imperfect...

Too human.

Two years ago... two years ago this same day she had had the same kind of case. Missing person was a young girl, a young Mexican girl.

They had worked on the case for two days, racing against time and a sick psycho. They had ended up finding the girl's body weighted down by weights, under one of the docks of the main Harbour.

Two years ago... She gazed out the window in deep, nostalgic thought.

She remembered that cold December Christmas Eve night as if it were present day...

"Samantha..." His low gruff, yet somehow gentle tone stirred her out of her daydream.

"Yes Jack?" She looked up.

He frowned, his dark eyes and eyebrows narrowing as he gazed into her eyes. He noticed deep, dark circles surrounding puffy pink rimmed eyes. "Why are you still here?"

"Just looking over some old files..." Samantha said, dropping her gaze from his.

He continued gazing at her. Crossing his arms, he looked down and a few of his longer bangs fell in his eyes.

Samantha shivered slightly. Never before had she felt so insecure and like an open book to someone's gaze. She hated it when people tried to read her... She felt so open and... vulnerable.

"Would you like to talk about it?" He asked, his voice gentle, trying to hopefully coax it out of her. Things like this, hard casesl ike this needed to be talked about. He of all people knew about that. If you allowed things to fester and grow inside without sharing, it could prove dangerous in the future.

Samantha sighed. She wanted to talk about it... but whenever she tried talking about it to someone, she just shut down, either breaking out in tears or shutting up and never speaking of it again.

Jack frowned, gazing at the empty traveling Coffee mug sitting beside her computer monitor. "What's that?" He asked. Reaching over, he brushed a few small bits and crumps onto his hand. "What's this?" He repeated, after not getting a response from Samantha.

"My dinner." She replied, trying desperately to hold her tone, and keep her cool. How embarassing it would be to let her feelings out... especially to her boss. To Jack...

"Looks like a cross between..." He held it up to the nearby light, frowning as he tried to find out exactly what it was.

Samantha didn't respond to his attempt at a small ha-ha, so he placed it back on the edge of her desk. "Anyway, I wouldn't call that dinner."

"What would you call it then?" She asked, raising her dark brown eyes to meet his own.

Jack shrugged. "I don't know what the hell I would call it," he admitted. He paused, waiting to see if she would do anything else, but she merely looked down, not saing anything. So it prompted him to speak, breaking the growing silence. "Would you like to get some real dinner?" He asked.

A slight smile appeared on Samantha's beautiful features. "That sounds nice." She admitted, in a quiet tone.

Getting up off her swivel chair, Jack nodded. They decided on the place and grabbed their coats. As they walked towards the elevator Jack's hand found the small of her back, gently guiding her...