Comfort
Jack sits quiet and alone on the couch for a moment until he hears the bedroom door click. He knows then that she will not be coming back out or that she is expecting him to go in.
It's like that sometimes. Most of the time.
If she does not invite him or he does not follow her the bedroom, it is their sign that he will be sleeping on the couch or going back to the office. Even after all these months, some things like sleeping together are still not a given.
Obviously neither is comforting one another, although this was a valiant attempt on her part. But she is not equipped to provide him with the comfort he needs. He has no doubts that had he followed her to the bedroom, she would have offered sex as a means of comfort. But it's not her body that he needs.
To be fair to her though, throughout their marriage, he wasn't always very open about his feelings. But he is trying to make his marriage work, so all the old ways are out. He has had to change his ways to be a better husband. Since she was the wronged party, he thinks she must believe she does not have to change her ways. Her job is punishment.
He doesn't need her punishment tonight. He is punishing himself enough. So there he sits on the couch and waits for the click. Once he hears it, he reaches for his cell phone and calls the one person he knows will understand. The one person that can save him like he wasn't able to save Spaulding or his mother.
She answers her cell phone right away and he knows she did not even let it ring long enough for his caller ID to register. "Hello." Her voice so pure and giving. The one word is a lifeline being thrown toward him and it's suddenly too much. Hot tears clog his throat and he is unable to speak. But she hears the quiet on her end and she knows. "Jack. It's OK, Jack. I'm here. I'm right here." And he feels as though she is right there with him. While Marie was offering her body, Samantha offers her heart. He can hear the difference in their voices. He can feel the difference in his soul. "I'm still at the office. I'm alone. But I'm not any more because I know that you're on the line with me now. I think I was sitting here waiting for the phone to ring." Her voice soothes the ache in his chest and he draws in the first real breath he's had in awhile. It feels clean.
She goes on. "You're not alone either. I'm sorry I wasn't closer during the case. But I know Viv was there, and Martin too. And I stayed with the kids for a while because you told me how scary it was when your Mom was gone. I remembered what you said and I wanted to be there for them because I couldn't be there for you. But I'm here for you now. And I'm not going anywhere, Jack. I promise I'm not going anywhere."
For a moment, he flashes to the Barry Mashburn incident and how close he came to losing her, but then he remembers that he got her out of that bookstore, bloody but alive. He knows she means what she is saying and is not just trying to pacify him. He can feel how calm she is on the line with him and how strong she is being because he can't be.
This amazes him because he knows tomorrow she has another counseling session and she will be afraid and looking to him for strength. But that is tomorrow.
Tonight, she will keep the dark away. Just as she had before.
"Remember the night after the Terri Fuller case? When we talked about our mothers? I told you about running away and my mom came to find me. And you told me about the first time you found your mother in the garage. I thought how different we were at sixteen. Me running from my Mom, you taking care of yours. I remember how you let me take care of you that night. That you trusted me enough to hold you while you cried. How our roles were reversed. That maybe we both found something we needed together like that. I didn't have to be just another thing in your life you had to take care of. And I could be the one to let you be that sixteen year old boy who felt so alone and afraid and confused."
He hears a chair squeak and he can easily imagine how she is sitting at her desk in the bullpen leaning back in her chair rolling a pen between her fingers eye turned toward the ceiling but not really seeing what's there. It's almost enough to make him smile. But not quite.
"I asked Martin about you today. He told me that I should be glad I wasn't there. I wanted to tell him he didn't know what the hell he was talking about. I didn't have to be there to know, Jack, how this is eating at you. And Spaulding of all people," she hisses the name.
"Jack, I listened to the Spaulding's tape even though Martin said I shouldn't." She says this conspiratorially. Like he's there at the office next to her in the bullpen and the rest of the team is standing far enough away not to hear them. "But you and I don't keep things from one another, do we? I knew you wouldn't mind. I knew you'd want me to listen. Spaulding was right, Jack. Part of you does die everyday on this job, that part of you that blames yourself for your mother's death. Because every case brings you closer to peace. Even the ones that don't end happily because you know you tried."
He closes his eyes and lets her words wash over him like redemption. The clogged tears from earlier roll easy down his cheeks. "And Jack, it wasn't your fault. Not tonight with Spaulding, not your mother's death," she pauses for a moment before going on almost in a whisper, "and not your father's abuse." He sighs into the phone close to a whimper.
Her voice is still low as she continues but he has no problem hearing her. "You are a good man, Jack. You are brave and strong. It's not weakness to show emotion, and I love that you know that. I love you, Jack. For the man that you became from the boy that you were." The flow of words stop then and she just sits there asking nothing from him in return. Just letting him absorb everything she's said while still keeping the connection open. He knows she will sit there all night in silence listening to him breathe if that's what he needs.
But he knows what he needs. And right now it's not in this house. It's across town at the place he calls work but really means home. He thinks that Marie is right he used to live for his work, but now work is just an excuse to be where Sam is. Where he wants to live when he can while he can.
So he gets off the couch and grabs his keys quietly closing the door behind him. "I'm on my way in." His voice sounds foreign and startles him a little but he hears her grateful sigh on the other end of the line. She would never ask him to and never expect it of him but he knows she was hoping he would come.
"I'll be here. I have some paperwork to finish maybe you can help me." She's trying to keep things on a professional level now so he can regain his equilibrium.
"Yeah, I could do that."
"Thanks."
"No, thank you." And again the line goes silent, a comfortable silence that lasts until he reaches the bullpen and sees her smile at him.
Jack sits quiet and alone on the couch for a moment until he hears the bedroom door click. He knows then that she will not be coming back out or that she is expecting him to go in.
It's like that sometimes. Most of the time.
If she does not invite him or he does not follow her the bedroom, it is their sign that he will be sleeping on the couch or going back to the office. Even after all these months, some things like sleeping together are still not a given.
Obviously neither is comforting one another, although this was a valiant attempt on her part. But she is not equipped to provide him with the comfort he needs. He has no doubts that had he followed her to the bedroom, she would have offered sex as a means of comfort. But it's not her body that he needs.
To be fair to her though, throughout their marriage, he wasn't always very open about his feelings. But he is trying to make his marriage work, so all the old ways are out. He has had to change his ways to be a better husband. Since she was the wronged party, he thinks she must believe she does not have to change her ways. Her job is punishment.
He doesn't need her punishment tonight. He is punishing himself enough. So there he sits on the couch and waits for the click. Once he hears it, he reaches for his cell phone and calls the one person he knows will understand. The one person that can save him like he wasn't able to save Spaulding or his mother.
She answers her cell phone right away and he knows she did not even let it ring long enough for his caller ID to register. "Hello." Her voice so pure and giving. The one word is a lifeline being thrown toward him and it's suddenly too much. Hot tears clog his throat and he is unable to speak. But she hears the quiet on her end and she knows. "Jack. It's OK, Jack. I'm here. I'm right here." And he feels as though she is right there with him. While Marie was offering her body, Samantha offers her heart. He can hear the difference in their voices. He can feel the difference in his soul. "I'm still at the office. I'm alone. But I'm not any more because I know that you're on the line with me now. I think I was sitting here waiting for the phone to ring." Her voice soothes the ache in his chest and he draws in the first real breath he's had in awhile. It feels clean.
She goes on. "You're not alone either. I'm sorry I wasn't closer during the case. But I know Viv was there, and Martin too. And I stayed with the kids for a while because you told me how scary it was when your Mom was gone. I remembered what you said and I wanted to be there for them because I couldn't be there for you. But I'm here for you now. And I'm not going anywhere, Jack. I promise I'm not going anywhere."
For a moment, he flashes to the Barry Mashburn incident and how close he came to losing her, but then he remembers that he got her out of that bookstore, bloody but alive. He knows she means what she is saying and is not just trying to pacify him. He can feel how calm she is on the line with him and how strong she is being because he can't be.
This amazes him because he knows tomorrow she has another counseling session and she will be afraid and looking to him for strength. But that is tomorrow.
Tonight, she will keep the dark away. Just as she had before.
"Remember the night after the Terri Fuller case? When we talked about our mothers? I told you about running away and my mom came to find me. And you told me about the first time you found your mother in the garage. I thought how different we were at sixteen. Me running from my Mom, you taking care of yours. I remember how you let me take care of you that night. That you trusted me enough to hold you while you cried. How our roles were reversed. That maybe we both found something we needed together like that. I didn't have to be just another thing in your life you had to take care of. And I could be the one to let you be that sixteen year old boy who felt so alone and afraid and confused."
He hears a chair squeak and he can easily imagine how she is sitting at her desk in the bullpen leaning back in her chair rolling a pen between her fingers eye turned toward the ceiling but not really seeing what's there. It's almost enough to make him smile. But not quite.
"I asked Martin about you today. He told me that I should be glad I wasn't there. I wanted to tell him he didn't know what the hell he was talking about. I didn't have to be there to know, Jack, how this is eating at you. And Spaulding of all people," she hisses the name.
"Jack, I listened to the Spaulding's tape even though Martin said I shouldn't." She says this conspiratorially. Like he's there at the office next to her in the bullpen and the rest of the team is standing far enough away not to hear them. "But you and I don't keep things from one another, do we? I knew you wouldn't mind. I knew you'd want me to listen. Spaulding was right, Jack. Part of you does die everyday on this job, that part of you that blames yourself for your mother's death. Because every case brings you closer to peace. Even the ones that don't end happily because you know you tried."
He closes his eyes and lets her words wash over him like redemption. The clogged tears from earlier roll easy down his cheeks. "And Jack, it wasn't your fault. Not tonight with Spaulding, not your mother's death," she pauses for a moment before going on almost in a whisper, "and not your father's abuse." He sighs into the phone close to a whimper.
Her voice is still low as she continues but he has no problem hearing her. "You are a good man, Jack. You are brave and strong. It's not weakness to show emotion, and I love that you know that. I love you, Jack. For the man that you became from the boy that you were." The flow of words stop then and she just sits there asking nothing from him in return. Just letting him absorb everything she's said while still keeping the connection open. He knows she will sit there all night in silence listening to him breathe if that's what he needs.
But he knows what he needs. And right now it's not in this house. It's across town at the place he calls work but really means home. He thinks that Marie is right he used to live for his work, but now work is just an excuse to be where Sam is. Where he wants to live when he can while he can.
So he gets off the couch and grabs his keys quietly closing the door behind him. "I'm on my way in." His voice sounds foreign and startles him a little but he hears her grateful sigh on the other end of the line. She would never ask him to and never expect it of him but he knows she was hoping he would come.
"I'll be here. I have some paperwork to finish maybe you can help me." She's trying to keep things on a professional level now so he can regain his equilibrium.
"Yeah, I could do that."
"Thanks."
"No, thank you." And again the line goes silent, a comfortable silence that lasts until he reaches the bullpen and sees her smile at him.