TITLE: I Never Knew You
AUTHOR: Tahlia
RATING: PG
PAIRING: (subtle) Sam/Jack
SPOILERS: "Copycat"
DISCLAIMER: Bwah. I wish.
NOTES: My last gasp of air before a month of Nano.
SUMMARY: Case closed?
*
It shouldn't be her taking down Doris Richards' picture, closing her case, but Samantha is. At least, it's what she means to do, before the woman's smiling face catches her eye in just the right light. The angle of her head. Samantha stares, then breaks away and moves from the whiteboard to the table in front of it, straightening some loose case notes. She tucks them neatly into a manila folder and looks up, into that woman's familiar eyes, and has to go back to her desk.
She is captivated by a set of phone records from a week-old case when she feels the balance in the room shift. Samantha looks up and finds Vivian leaning ever-so-slightly in her cubicle. The picture is balanced in front of her. "You forgot this."
She pretends not to notice. "Hmm?" Vivian shakes the picture at her. "Oh, right."
"Case closed, remember?" She starts to walk around.
Samantha pivots in her chair. "Yeah. Thank God."
Vivian crosses her arms, and Samantha knows something is coming. "It bothers you that he wouldn't let you in, doesn't it?"
She must look blindsided, like a deer in the headlights and all the other metaphors she can't think of to describe the way her throat closes up. (It's true.) "What?"
"That he wouldn't let any of us in." She can't tell why Vivian revised her statement.
She exhales. "Yeah." Her shoulders fall. "And I'll be damned if I know why either." She pauses, and maybe she just thinks this: "I don't know which is worse."
Vivian's eyes narrow. "Really?"
It feels like she's seen this before. Samantha blinks. "Sure."
Leaning back on her heels a little, Vivian's eyebrows rise with surprise. "Okay."
(Confused, very confused.) "Viv?" Samantha leans forward, not sure what to make of it all. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Vivian hesitates, and then blows out a big breath of air and smiles. "It's nothing. Never mind. Listen," and she drops her arms, suddenly relaxed again, "I think I'm going to head home. You should, too."
It's all still hanging out there in front of her, but she decides not to reach for it. Pushing it aside, Samantha smiles: "Thanks, Mom."
Vivian shakes her head, and starts to walk away before she stops and turns back. "Sam?"
She has already turned back to her phone records, but she looks casually over her shoulder. "Yeah?"
She points, and says, "The picture?"
Samantha glances up and sees it still sitting there, precariously balanced next to her nameplate. Quickly, she grabs it, avoiding the woman's eyes. "Right, uh, almost forgot." She smiles for Vivian, just in case. And she doesn't understand, but Vivian just shakes her head and turns again, but Samantha can't help herself: "Viv? Can I ask you something?"
She retraces her steps back to Samantha's desk. "Sure."
"Do you think--" Samantha stops. She can't take her eyes off of Doris Richards' long blonde hair. The way her head is tilted and her hair, resting just that way on her shoulders. "What I mean is, do you think Spaulding-- you know."
Vivian glances at Samantha, looking for something more.
She waves her hand. "Never mind." After a breath: "Wait. Do you-- it's just a coincidence, right?" She tilts the photograph so Vivian can see it completely.
She stares blankly at it before replying, "Honestly, Sam, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Samantha sighs with defeat. "Never mind."
Vivian puts a hand on her shoulder. "Go home. Get some sleep."
"Right."
The two women say, "Goodnight," and Vivian leaves, but Samantha stays glued to her chair, picturing in hand. Maybe it is just a coincidence. There's enough women in America with long blonde hair for it to be a coincidence. Of course. A lot. Of course. Anyway, the last thing she wants is to imagine Spaulding, sitting in a car across from the Richards' house, watching Doris and imagining her. She needs to sleep tonight.
Quietly, she slips the photograph into the manila envelope and deposits it in a filing cabinet. Case closed.
*
AUTHOR: Tahlia
RATING: PG
PAIRING: (subtle) Sam/Jack
SPOILERS: "Copycat"
DISCLAIMER: Bwah. I wish.
NOTES: My last gasp of air before a month of Nano.
SUMMARY: Case closed?
*
It shouldn't be her taking down Doris Richards' picture, closing her case, but Samantha is. At least, it's what she means to do, before the woman's smiling face catches her eye in just the right light. The angle of her head. Samantha stares, then breaks away and moves from the whiteboard to the table in front of it, straightening some loose case notes. She tucks them neatly into a manila folder and looks up, into that woman's familiar eyes, and has to go back to her desk.
She is captivated by a set of phone records from a week-old case when she feels the balance in the room shift. Samantha looks up and finds Vivian leaning ever-so-slightly in her cubicle. The picture is balanced in front of her. "You forgot this."
She pretends not to notice. "Hmm?" Vivian shakes the picture at her. "Oh, right."
"Case closed, remember?" She starts to walk around.
Samantha pivots in her chair. "Yeah. Thank God."
Vivian crosses her arms, and Samantha knows something is coming. "It bothers you that he wouldn't let you in, doesn't it?"
She must look blindsided, like a deer in the headlights and all the other metaphors she can't think of to describe the way her throat closes up. (It's true.) "What?"
"That he wouldn't let any of us in." She can't tell why Vivian revised her statement.
She exhales. "Yeah." Her shoulders fall. "And I'll be damned if I know why either." She pauses, and maybe she just thinks this: "I don't know which is worse."
Vivian's eyes narrow. "Really?"
It feels like she's seen this before. Samantha blinks. "Sure."
Leaning back on her heels a little, Vivian's eyebrows rise with surprise. "Okay."
(Confused, very confused.) "Viv?" Samantha leans forward, not sure what to make of it all. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Vivian hesitates, and then blows out a big breath of air and smiles. "It's nothing. Never mind. Listen," and she drops her arms, suddenly relaxed again, "I think I'm going to head home. You should, too."
It's all still hanging out there in front of her, but she decides not to reach for it. Pushing it aside, Samantha smiles: "Thanks, Mom."
Vivian shakes her head, and starts to walk away before she stops and turns back. "Sam?"
She has already turned back to her phone records, but she looks casually over her shoulder. "Yeah?"
She points, and says, "The picture?"
Samantha glances up and sees it still sitting there, precariously balanced next to her nameplate. Quickly, she grabs it, avoiding the woman's eyes. "Right, uh, almost forgot." She smiles for Vivian, just in case. And she doesn't understand, but Vivian just shakes her head and turns again, but Samantha can't help herself: "Viv? Can I ask you something?"
She retraces her steps back to Samantha's desk. "Sure."
"Do you think--" Samantha stops. She can't take her eyes off of Doris Richards' long blonde hair. The way her head is tilted and her hair, resting just that way on her shoulders. "What I mean is, do you think Spaulding-- you know."
Vivian glances at Samantha, looking for something more.
She waves her hand. "Never mind." After a breath: "Wait. Do you-- it's just a coincidence, right?" She tilts the photograph so Vivian can see it completely.
She stares blankly at it before replying, "Honestly, Sam, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Samantha sighs with defeat. "Never mind."
Vivian puts a hand on her shoulder. "Go home. Get some sleep."
"Right."
The two women say, "Goodnight," and Vivian leaves, but Samantha stays glued to her chair, picturing in hand. Maybe it is just a coincidence. There's enough women in America with long blonde hair for it to be a coincidence. Of course. A lot. Of course. Anyway, the last thing she wants is to imagine Spaulding, sitting in a car across from the Richards' house, watching Doris and imagining her. She needs to sleep tonight.
Quietly, she slips the photograph into the manila envelope and deposits it in a filing cabinet. Case closed.
*