Disclaimer: They're still not mine and I'm still not making money with it. It's all pure pleasure (or it will be once we work through the pain…)
Rating: T
Summary: Sam is planning to leave New York. Jack has moved on. Everyone is happy. But sometimes not everything is as it seems... A look at what happened in the past and what will happen tomorrow. Totally JS.
Author's notes: May you all have as much fun reading as I have writing! Thank you to my wonderful beta jbird, whose advice is invaluable. I still wonder how I got through Taken without her…
Tomorrow
by Serataja
-Chapter 1-
In the Beginning, Part 1
January/Now
It has been snowing lightly for a couple of hours and the great expanses of lawn in Central Park are covered by a thin layer of white. Sam makes her way across, heading for the line of trees on the other side, hearing the surface crunch with every step she takes. Her hands are buried deep in the pockets of her coat, her head is bent.
She looks up and sees the figure of her colleague Vivian in the distance, waiting for her. There is a man standing at her side. She does not know him, so he must be the one who found the baby blanket.
Above the skyscrapers that surround the park, the skies loom grayish-white and heavy, filled with snow.
Sam shivers.
It scares her that they found the blanket. She hopes whoever took the baby will keep her warm.
She reaches the trees, their barren arms reaching heavenwards. Only the thinnest sprinkle of snow has made its way beneath them. Sam cannot make out any footprints. It is now early morning, the baby was taken late yesterday from its carriage just outside the park and the forecasters have predicted heavy snow before the evening.
A couple of stray snowflakes are settling on Sam's hair, her shoulders, her exposed skin. She never liked the cold and she never liked the snow but she remembers a winter when that didn't bother her. When she had felt protected, warmed and loved. Of course, that is long past. It was only a short interlude and she has gone back to hating the winter a long time ago.
Now she has decided not to put up with it any longer. She is finally moving on.
She is going away.
July 2000
It was not love at first sight. But it was pretty close.
On a hot July morning the sun was rising mercilessly in the deep blue sky. In the streets of New York the heat was baking.
Samantha Spade did not mind the heat. She welcomed it. She removed the jacket of her gray business suit and relished the feel of the hot sun on her skin. She stopped in front of 26 Federal Plaza and did something no born and bred New Yorker would ever do, tipping back her head and gazing up at the tall building. It was not one of the tallest buildings in town, not by far, but in terms of the small town in Minnesota she grew up in and the double-wide trailer her mother raised her in, it was something.
Lowering her head she looked at the entrance doors and took a deep breath. She felt giddy with anticipation. She was fresh out of the FBI Academy, graduating at the top of her class, and this was her first assignment. She had been working at the NYPD before she applied for the FBI and she was pleased that she was staying in New York. Working Missing Persons out of the New York FBI office was a treat, a reward few rookies ever got. She knew agents who would have given their right arm to get a chance like this.
She stepped through the revolving doors and was enveloped by the cool shadow of the lobby. Identifying herself she walked through the metal detector and was given instructions how to find the Missing Persons Unit on the 12th floor.
When she stepped out of the elevator a couple of minutes later it was like entering another world. The place was cool and calm at this time of morning. She was surrounded by soothing brown colors, the offices had walls of glass and there was transparency everywhere. Later she discovered how busy this floor could be with agents, technicians, visitors and the occasional suspect milling about, but her first impression was that of an oasis, far above the usual hustle on the streets.
She walked down the corridor, noticing the big office to her left, which she later learned was referred to as the bullpen for some unknown reason. She could see several agents seated at their desks, which where separated by wooden sound partitions. A whiteboard with a horizontal red line was pushed up to the window front. There was nothing written on it and she wondered what it was used for.
Samantha stopped at the office to her right. The door was open, but even if it had been closed the glass walls would have allowed her to look inside. A middle-aged man with a heavy build was seated at a desk, black-rimmed reading glasses perched on his nose, head bent over some papers. Samantha knocked and he lifted his head, studying the early visitor.
"Yes?" he asked.
She could see that he was preoccupied. He seemed to have difficulty focusing on her as if she had pulled him out of a bad dream.
"Special Agent Samantha Spade, sir. We met in Paula Van Doran's office last week and I was told to report to work today?"
He pulled himself together and motioned for her to come in.
"Yeah, I remember," he said wearily. "I forgot it was today. Do come in. Sit down."
He pulled himself up from his chair and she saw that his suit was rumpled and that he was in pain. He looked like he hadn't slept all night.
"Jack Malone," he introduced himself, reaching across the desk and offering her his hand. She took it, surprised by the bad shape he was in, expecting his grip to be limp and soft. Then his hand closed around hers, firm, almost squeezing it too hard, the skin warm and smooth to the touch, surprisingly pleasant. He looked her right into the eyes and she felt herself wither a bit under the intensity of the stare. Here was a man who expected a lot, not only from others but from himself as well. A man who would not take it lightly if a member of his team screwed up, someone with a lot of passion and a lot of anger pent up inside.
She looked back, trying to keep her gaze steady, not minding the expectations she could read in his eyes, because she intended to give her very best. If that was not good enough for him she could not help it. But she was weary of the other things she could see in him and about what kind of man he was. After all he would be her boss, maybe for a long time.
Jack Malone tried hard to take his mind away from yesterday's events and focus on the new agent in front of him. He was tired to his bones and his left knee was shooting sharp bursts of pain into his upper thigh. The bottle of painkillers he kept in his desk drawer was empty and he had been too busy to get another one.
She was far too beautiful for an agent.
He took in her delicate features, the long blonde hair and the slender figure. She was a real looker. She looked even more striking than he remembered from the short interview last week.
Jack Malone took off his reading glasses and started to rub his eyes.
He would have preferred someone plainer. Paula Stein, the agent who had left because of her pregnancy two weeks ago had been just that and he had been comfortable working with her. There had been no need to guard his reactions and Maria had had no reason to be jealous, like she had been so often before. She accused him of being attracted to other women or having affairs at regular intervals. It was, of course, his own fault. He had slipped once, years ago, after his first daughter Hanna had been born. The woman had been a fellow agent and they had both been drunk. Afterwards he had been so riddled with guilt he had told his wife that very night. But he had not been able to contain the damage. Some basic trust had been broken and Maria had never entirely believed him again.
He put the glasses down on the papers he had been reading and looked at Samantha Spade again. She was more than just a pretty face, though. He could see that. There was a weariness in her eyes. Something that told him she had seen her fair share of life already. She also looked tough and compassionate at the same time. He suspected she would be good at this job.
Samantha tried to read in his face. He was hard man, she could sense that. Dangerous? Probably, if he got pushed too far by the wrong people. She wouldn't want to try to mess with him. Charming? That, too, if he chose to be – or if he had a good day. Arrogant? He certainly looked that way, aloof, inaccessible, but she would wait and see. First impressions could be so wrong. She only hoped he would not turn out to be like so many others in the bureau, convinced of their own superiority, doing things strictly by the book or bending the rules in a way that served their own needs.
He opened a drawer and took out a folder.
"I've looked through your file," he said, "It's impressive. Your instructors were quite taken with your investigative skills."
They talked for a while and she felt comfortable with the conversation and with him. She noticed that the color of the gray suit he was wearing didn't flatter him and that he was wearing an awful tie with yellow and grey stripes. He was not good-looking in the usual sense, but she liked the dark salt and pepper hair that had grown a bit too long, touching his collar and falling across his brow.
"I've noticed that you were also offered a position with the Violent Crimes Unit in Miami. Why did you choose Missing Persons?"
She smiled. Certainly not because of the miserably cold winters we have in New York, she almost said. Instead she tried to explain to him how the work had appealed to her, the notion of looking for someone that was lost, not just dealing with bad things happening but also with hope. She did not yet know that hope would sometimes be the worst part of it. That there was nothing more crushing than hope lost.
His gaze was fixed on her, his face cool and unmoving but she could see warmth in his eyes and recognition of her motives and thoughts. She felt something else vibrate beneath his professional outer attire. Maybe passion. A strong drive. Single-mindedness. Some strong emotion waiting to erupt. It could be good or bad, there was no way for her to tell, yet.
The light was doing a strange trick with his eyes. One moment they would look at her, their color a dull brown, then his gaze would shift and they'd become dark, almost black.
In his own way he was a very handsome man.
"I'd like to introduce you to the rest of the team," he said and she tried to ignore the current that had begun running between them. She was sure he was married, she was sure he had kids and she was not eager to be hit on. That had happened to her plenty of times before and she hoped he was not that kind of man. So she gave him a small tight-lipped smile, the one she reserved for unwelcome attention, although he had done nothing inappropriate. So far the inappropriateness had been merely in her own thoughts and she intended to keep it that way.
He pulled himself out of his chair. While Samantha followed him across the corridor to the bullpen she noticed his limp and she noticed that he tried to hide it. It looked painful, but that was really none of her business.
Two agents were sitting at their respective desks near the mysteriously striped whiteboard.
"Special Agents Vivian Johnson and Danny Taylor. Two of the best you'll ever work with," he introduced them and she was surprised to hear not only pride but affection in his voice.
A Hispanic looking man and a dark-skinned woman were looking up at her. She smiled at them, liking them instantly. There was nothing of the ambiguity in them that she felt in Jack Malone.
"This is Samantha Spade," he continued. "Let's see if she is as good as they think she is at the academy."
He looked around, visibly shifting track from light banter to concern.
"Where is Steve?"
Vivian sighed and dropped the pen she was holding.
"He called ten minutes ago and said he didn't feel well. Not that I'm surprised. I asked him if he had made the appointment with Dr. Harris and he said she would be seeing him in the afternoon."
Jack nodded.
"Slow day today, huh?" he said.
"If you want to put it that way," Vivian muttered.
"People don't disappear in weather like this," Danny chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. "They melt and the puddles are real easy to find." He grinned up at Samantha
"Right," Jack said. "So, Danny, why don't you go and visit Steve? And be sure to tell him what happened to Rider down in Violent Crimes. We all make mistakes. We have to deal with them."
"Aye, sir," Danny said with a mock salute.
"Get going," Jack Malone grumbled without really seeming to mind Danny's attitude. He shifted his attention back to Vivian and Samantha.
"You could introduce Agent Spade to the computer. And make sure to show her the coffee-machine. I'll be in my office, finishing the last ton of paperwork."
When he was gone Samantha raised her eyebrows.
"I hope he wasn't implying that he expected me to bring him coffee?"
Vivian laughed.
"Don't worry. He's not that kind of man, he's just showing off. Do you want a cup of coffee?"
"That would be lovely."
Vivian led her past the desks to a small table with a coffee-machine and big cups with the FBI logo stamped on them. She watched with amusement as Samantha added a shocking amount of cream and sugar to her cup. Samantha noticed.
"I'm just nervous," she explained. "I only need that much sugar when I'm nervous…or very comfortable," she added with a grin.
"I was nervous, too when I started here," Vivian said, "but I don't think you need to be. Jack is a really good boss."
"Have you worked with him long?"
"Ten years. He's the best."
"Okay," Samantha said, reassured that Vivian seemed to like him.
She followed her back across the office.
"This is yours."
Vivian pointed to one of the desks.
"Make yourself comfortable. Do you have any questions?"
She hit a key on the keyboard, opening a program.
Samantha was silent for a moment looking at the whiteboard.
"If you drag a chair over here I can show you how this works."
Samantha sat down and rolled over to Vivian's desk.
"I'd like to know how this works," she said pointing at the board.
"The timeline," Vivian grinned. "Looks a bit enigmatic the first time you see it, I guess. Especially when it's blank. We'll get to that. Now, look at this."
The program was something Samantha had used before and she was a fast learner. Vivian looked satisfied at her grasp on things and that gave Samantha the courage to ask a more intimate question:
"Should I know what happened to Steve?"
Vivian froze up.
"I'm sorry. I just noticed. If it's none of my business it's okay."
Vivian leaned back in her chair. She continued staring at the computer screen.
"It does affect the team," she said, "so now it does affect you, too, and, yeah, you should know…"
She swiveled around in her chair, facing Samantha.
"Yesterday morning a hospital reported that a mentally unstable man was missing. He had lost his wife in a car accident two months before and was admitted after a nervous breakdown. Add severe depression and a beginning psychosis. He was in a really bad state."
Vivian paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and seeming to gather strength.
"Actually, he was not that hard to find. In the early afternoon one of his neighbors called us and reported she had seen him on the stairs of his apartment building. She said he had gone up to the roof… And that's where Danny and Steve found him."
She sighed and her gaze traveled out of the window. Her hands were very still, clasped on the desk in front of her.
"He was crouched against one of the chimneys. When he saw our agents arrive he panicked, went to the ledge and threatened to jump. They backed down immediately, of course, and Jack decided to call in the psychiatrist who had treated the man at the hospital. But when they couldn't reach him Steve decided to try to talk him down on his own. Danny had gone to the hospital to track down the doctor and Jack was on the phone with me so no one tried to stop him…."
Her face grew still.
"That's when things went so wrong. They talked for maybe a minute or two. Then suddenly the guy freaked and pulled a gun. We hadn't suspected anything like that."
Samantha looked at the tension in her features, dreading what was to come.
"The guy started to shoot. He was not aiming at anything in particular. But he hit a man standing at a window just across the street, watching."
"Oh God!"
"Yeah. The bullet struck him in the chest, killed him instantly. The man was 38, married, two children, stayed at home from work because he had a cold. And the shooter jumped."
She dropped her gaze to her hands, shaking her head.
Samantha exhaled slowly.
"So you can see we're not in the best of shapes right now. Steve is taking it very hard, which is good, of course, but we got a bit concerned about him. And Jack…well…"
She leaned back in her chair and looked over at his office. They could see him hunched over his desk, the telephone pressed to his ear, obviously having a conversation that didn't please him.
"Steve wouldn't acknowledge that he'd made a mistake and Jack got very angry. Right now he is tearing himself up because he thinks it's entirely his fault for not stopping Steve in time."
Vivien shot a glance at Samantha, not sure if she had given away too much of her supervisor's personality. But Samantha merely nodded.
"Thank you for telling me."
Vivian turned back to the computer.
"Let's get back to work. I'd rather not think about all this right now."
After only a moment they heard Jack's voice behind them.
"Danny called. Steve isn't answering his door or his phone.He says the door is too solid to kick in so he's called in the NYPD to help him."
Vivian and Sam had turned around. Jack was pale and Vivian looked at him with alarm.
"I'm heading over there now. Could you please try to reach Dr. Harris?"
Without waiting for an answer he turned and headed for the elevator.
Vivian gave Samantha a motioning sign with her hand.
"Go with him," she ordered.
Samantha looked startled.
"Go. He won't wait for you."
ooo
She caught up with him at the elevator. He shot her a dark and preoccupied look but strangely enough that didn't intimidate her.
"I'm going with you. Agent Johnson filled me in about yesterday."
He looked at her for a moment, maybe trying to discern just how much Vivian had told her. Then the elevator doors opened.
"Okay," was all he said.
It was hard to keep up with his long strides on their way to the car. He seemed to propel himself forward with the help of his upper body and she realized that there had to be something seriously wrong with his left leg. His face had knotted with pain but his eyes were somber and focused.
TBC