Title: Meet Me at Penn Station
Author: Kate Anderson
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters
A/N: Thank you for the wonderful welcome to Without a Trace -- both for the reviews here and for the kind words on Maple Street. I'm not quite ready to give up my lurker status though!
**
I'll meet you at the station. No arguments, Sam.
-J
~*~
She boarded the train with only her small bag tucked under her arm. The seats were cold and vinyl; uninviting. She sat down as the alarm sounded and the train began to move.
Her fellow passengers were quiet as the train moved through the countryside. The conductor took her ticket, clipped it and put it on the back of her seat. Samantha watched him intently, marvelling at what a job it must be. To travel only to end up back where you started.
The soft clack of the tracks and the gentle movement of the train made Samantha's eyes close. She leaned her head against the glass and dozed off.
~*~
It was raining. How dare it rain on the day Sam was going to come home. Jack glared at the sky and willed the weather to change. In response, the rain fell harder, drumming on his umbrella.
The people that he passed were looking at the ground as they walked. Many of them were following a cup of coffee. Jack found himself pausing at a storefront that sold flowers.
"Ten dollar." said a shrunken old man. "Ten dollar for flower." He then pointed at a handpainted sign that read No haggling.
Jack switched his umbrella to the other hand and dug around in his pocket. He handed the crumpled and slightly damp ten dollar bill to the man and picked a bouquet of dripping flowers from a white plastic bucket.
"Thank you." Jack said.
"Enjoy your flower!" said the man, who quickly pocketed the money.
~*~
The door alarm sounded remarkably like a fire alarm. Perhaps that's why Samantha was jolted awake and fought the instinctive urge to dart for the nearest exit.
A few people shuffled into the car and took seats as far away from other passengers as possible. The unwritten rule states that you must sit as far away from the next person as possible. Samantha hated those that broke that rule.
The conductor made another pass through the car, clipping tickets of the newcomers and barely glancing at those that were already there. Samantha shifted in her seat and stared at the window.
Crumbling buildings.
Graffiti on walls.
Rusted bridges.
And the train passed through Queens.
~*~
Jack leaned his back against the wall and watched the letters and numbers flip on the sign. A few people smiled and sighed with relief as their track was announced and proudly headed away.
The station was busy; filled with commuters, travellers and greeters alike. Jack caught sight of a few boys in blue, patrolling the corridors with their hands poised over their guns.
Somewhere there was music playing and people were laughing. The sign flipped again and Jack couldn't help but grin as Sam's track number was announced. With flowers in hand and shoes squeaking on the wet floor, Jack moved to wait some more.
~*~
"Hello," he said, smiling as she approached him.
"You didn't have to come," she said. "I could have taken a taxi."
"You still will," he said. "But I'll be paying for it."
She caught sight of the flowers in Jack's hand. He saw her looking and handed them to her with a shy smile. "Welcome home." he said softly. Resisting the urge to kiss her. "Is that all your luggage?"
Samantha nodded and put a hand on her bag. "I pack light."
"So I see. Shall we?" Jack gestured toward the exit.
They walked in a comfortable silence, each one wondering what the other was thinking. Samantha smiled at the familiar sights as they left the station. The big, grey post office. The subway stop. She saw her smiling reflection in a puddle on the ground.
"We had some interesting cases while you were gone." Jack said, raising a hand to hail a cab.
"Tell me about them."
And he did.