Title: Choices
Author: Obsidian
Disclaimer: None of these amazing characters are mine. I'm just grateful for the chance to get to play in the world of Hank et. al. I don't intend any infringement of any kind, so please don't kick me out of the sandbox.
Spoilers: The infamous TV Guide article.
Notes: This started as another response to Cheers' challenge at Maple Street, but it took on a whole new life of its own. Consequently, it's longer than 3 minutes and it's not even close to being subtle. You really have to watch out for the falling anvils in this one. Hell, the whole thing is an anvil. I guess that I didn't go to subtlety school. Sorry Cheers, I just couldn't do it. About the only thing that it retains from the challenge is that it does not go into the characters heads for their feelings. It only uses dialogue and scene description. And it IS a moment that changes the Jack/Sam relationship. Just not a subtle one. LOL. This story exists in a timeline where "the triangle" has begun. Erk. Thanks to Maple Street for making Jack and Sam's world all that much more fun to play in.
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The elevator door opens and without sparing more than a glance at the bullpen on his way toward
his office, Jack bellows in cold, clipped tones.
"My office . . .now."
Sam jumps. Looks up. Her eyes wide. No one else is in the office yet. He has to be talking to her.
When she gets up and moves into his office, he is waiting for her by the entrance. She tries to walk
past him, but he slams the door with one hand and grabs her arm with the other. Roughly.
As he pulls her around to face him, his eyes are wild. And, in return, hers are huge. Unblinking.
"Jack" She swallows. "Jack . . . you're hurting me."
He drops her arm quickly and lets out a harsh breath. "Sorry," he says quietly. He looks away.
"Jack, what the hell are you doing?" And then more loudly, "What is WRONG with you?"
He looks at her and shakes his head. He snorts. "You want to know what's wrong with me?"
"Yes."
He grunts again. He's almost yelling now, "What the fuck is wrong with YOU. . . I SAW you. I
know what you're doing."
"What are you talking about?" She practically shouts at him.
He looks in her eyes. Searching. And after seconds of silence, he says, in tight, controlled tones, "I . .
. I. . . Saw. . . You. . . I saw you. Last night. In the restaurant. With Martin."
"Oh, God . . . Jesus, Jack. . . .I wanted to explain before . . ."
He cuts her off. "What the FUCK are you trying to do." He is screaming now. . . "Does this SEEM
like a good idea to you?"
"Jack"
Speaking through clenched teeth, he spits out "You. . . Can't. . . . Do. . . This. . . I WILL make sure
of that. I will order you. I . . .I will transfer him. I will do whatever I have to. But you will NOT
do this." He is breathing heavily now, barely able to catch his breath.
And with that ultimatum, she simply stares at him. Her eyes roaming. Searching his face. The
silence is deafening. It goes on much too long. Until, with an inexplicable look in her eyes, she
takes a step towards him. She is inches away from him now. She leans into him and whispers in his
ear. "You. . . you of all people will NOT tell me what I can or cannot do. . . .You. Have. No. Right. .
. You had me. . . . And you walked away. . .You . . . abandoned me."
Tears form in her eyes, "You chose. . . And you did not choose me. Now, you do NOT get to play
God with my life."
She is shaking now. Gasping for breath."What do you want from me, Jack? What? Do you need me
to make you and your precious ego feel better? Is that it? Is that what you want?"
Her voice breaks. She finally straightens up and pulls away from him, "Tell me, Jack. Does this help?. . . Does it help knowing that when I'm with him . . . I think of you? Always. . . Always of you. Does it help that I wonder where you are? What you're doing. What you would say if I were telling you all the things that I'm telling him."
With every word, her voice grows louder, more angry. Her eyes are unfocused. She is almost
choking on the words now. "Does it help to know that I wonder all the time why you don't want me?
Whether you ever cared about me at all? Would it please you . . . please you to know that after you
saw Martin with me last night, I told him that I couldn't do this. That I couldn't see him anymore.
God, Jack. Does it make you happy to know that even though you don't want me, I can't forget
you? That I can't move on. Because everywhere that I go and everyone that I see . . . reminds me of
you?"
She is openly crying now. Tears streaming down her face, "Does this help? Seeing me like this?
Does it make you feel better? Knowing how much you hurt me. Knowing that I still want you
despite everything. Despite the pain that you caused me. . . Do you like knowing that I don't know
how to stop loving you? . . . Even now."
"Is that all the things that you wanted to hear?"
She can barely speak through the sobs wracking her body. "Are you satisfied now?"
She spins away from him trying to escape the claustrophobic confines of his office and spits out over
her shoulder. "Damn you, Jack. . . I used to think that I hated you for not loving me. But now I
know the truth. I hate myself for not being able to stop loving you."
Before she can leave, he lunges after her and grabs her again. Gently this time. And he finally breaks
the silence in which her pain and sorrow had immobilized him. "Sam. Don't."
With one hand on her wrist and the other behind her neck, he pulls her into him until her entire body is pressed against him. Her head on his chest. His arms around her. As he holds her, he rubs a pattern on her back and runs his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. "Shhh. Sam. Shhh. Don't. Everything is gonna to be OK. I promise you. . ."
She stiffens against him. He sighs. "I won't break this promise. . . I swear. . . Not again." And with
that, she relaxes into him. Letting him hold her.
As her sobs quiet, he lifts her head so he can look into her eyes. And he says so quietly that she has
to strain to hear him. . . "Sam. Tell me. What would you do if I said right now that I do choose you?"
fin
