Disclaimer: I do not own Samantha Nixon, Jo Masters or anyone else used in this fic, I have borrowed/kidnapped them (whichever term you prefer) from the kind people at The Bill.
This is a one shot with Sam/Jo inclinations. If you haven't guessed by now, yes, they are my favourite paring! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
With her CD player blaring out 'Queen's Greatest Hits' in the background, and her singing along as loud as possible, Sam didn't hear her letterbox clang as a flimsy envelope was slipped through. It was not until ten minutes later when the CD finished that Sam decided it was time to leave the kitchen, a slice of buttered toast gripped tightly in between her teeth. Strolling towards the lounge to grab her bag, she noticed a letter on the mat. Knowing the post had already come that morning, she assumed she had missed it when she picked up the pile, yet on second glance she noticed there was no postmark, or even an address, merely Samantha Nixon scrawled on the front in handwriting she swore she recognised. Turning it around and opening it she pulled out a hand-written note. Grabbing her car keys and shoving the note back into the envelope she decided she was sure it could wait until she got into work, knowing Neil would notice if she was as much as a second late. Climbing in the car and starting the engine, she pulled out of the parking space, annoyed when she drove straight into a long queue of traffic, the last thing she needed when she was already running slightly late. The traffic at a complete standstill, Sam shut her eyes briefly, the envelope popping straight into her head, the writing still bothering her. She was about to get the letter out and see who it was from, just to put her mind at rest, when the queue began to move, leaving her little choice but to move with it. Resolving to read the letter the moment she arrived at Sun Hill, she eased the car into gear and added a little pressure to the accelerator, slowly crawling along the road behind the silver Mercedes just in front of her.
Sam took the stairs two at a time, knowing if she didn't get up to CID quickly, she'd be late and receive a ticking off from Neil, possibly even a warning if he was in a particularly bad mood. Striding into the office, she glanced at the clock, relieved to see she was actually one minute early for her shift. Seating herself at her desk, she was about to get the letter out of her bag when she saw Phil Hunter heading her way, a grin on his face. Not feeling up to another round of his attempted flirting; she quickly rose again, busying herself with Kezia Walker and a burglary case. With DC Walker filling her in on the latest development of the case they had been working on yesterday, Sam soon found herself distracted from the note, becoming engrossed in both the case and trying to stay out of Phil's way. Not getting a chance to sit down until lunchtime, Sam had completely forgotten about the note, the case taking too much of her thoughts and pushing the letter right to the back of her mind. Sam spent the rest of the day on the burglary case with Kezia. Given the fact that the evidence was almost non-existent, Kezia's many theories, mainly impossible or at the very least, improbable, kept Sam occupied for the rest of the day, leaving the blonde no time to remember the letter until she got home.
Settling down to 'CSI-NY', Sam became thoroughly enthralled in the programme, the letter not springing to mind until the end of the second advert break. Too absorbed in the show, Sam left the letter until the end, though when it did finish she found it was in fact a double bill, she felt torn between the two. Remembering it was quite a long letter, she resolved, assuring herself that it could wait until after that episode, opting to watch the second episode.
Pulling herself up from her almost slumbering state, she glanced at the envelope placed on the coffee table, too tired to concentrate properly, she left it until morning, climbing the stairs towards her awaiting bed.
Blinking her eyes a few times, Sam glanced at her clock, springing out of bed when she realised she had overslept, now only leaving herself half an hour to get dressed and into work. Pulling on her nearest blouse and suit, the blonde ran out of her bedroom, grabbing a slimming shake, not having time to make herself her usual toast. She picked up her bag, stuffing the letter from the table in it, irritated that she wouldn't have time to read it until at least lunchtime now.
Racing into the office, she heard Manson's voice call her name as she attempted to sit at her desk unnoticed. Sighing, she walked towards his office, allowing herself to be beckoned in. Responding to his offer of a seat by remaining standing, she endured his lecture on why it is so important to arrive at work promptly, and if at all possible, early. Apologising as politely as she could manage, she excused herself and returned to the office, about to take a seat when she heard Kezia call out to her. Strolling over towards the DC, she was about to give an excuse to remain in the office for long enough to read the letter, when she heard the DC mention something about suspect and arresting, she decided that maybe the case was more important. After all, she didn't wish for Kezia to receive all the praise when she had put in most of the work, the bubbly DC not doing much but chat and fantasise on how thrilling a case it could be, one theory even including Lord Lucan at one point. As much as she enjoyed the young DC's enthusiasm and imagination, she could get slightly carried away at times.
Not returning to the building until two o'clock, with their suspect, Sam had no choice but to grab some lunch and eat it on the go, Kezia impatient to interview the suspect. Annoyed that it now left her with no time but to read the mystery letter until this evening, Sam had a frown on her face for the rest of the day.
Returning home, Sam was about to flick on the television when she changed her mind, remembering the letter. Settling down on the sofa and pulling it out of her bag, she lay down on her back, opening the folded piece of paper and beginning to read it.
Dear Sam,
This is my goodbye to you. I'm leaving Sun Hill tomorrow. I'm not leaving an address or anything like that, and I'm changing my mobile number. I'm sorry to have to cut all my ties with you, but I can't cope any more, I love you Sam. There, I've said it now; there's no going back. I know you're straight, that's why I'm leaving, I can't bear to be around you any longer if I can't be with you.
Every time I see you, my eyes light up, my heart flutters and my pulse races. That's the effect you have on me, I'm getting too tired of trying to act normal around you. This is going to be hard for me, never seeing you again, but at least I won't be living a lie any more. I know I won't ever see you again, and it's breaking my heart, but I'm doing this for both of us, so that we can live normal lives.
I've bottled up my feelings for too long, I think I might explode if I don't tell you. So that's why I'm writing this, so I can tell you without having to be embarrassed as you try to explain in the nicest way possible that you don't feel the same way. I know I'm probably putting too much pressure on you by telling you all this, so I'm sorry, but I can't leave without telling you how I feel, just so I can tell myself I never missed an opportunity, or lied to someone I care about.
I know it's unlikely, improbable, ridiculous to even suggest such a thing, but if you do feel the same way, then please, come and tell me. I'll be at home, packing my stuff. Come and find me, tell me how you feel, tell me that you love me. Oh God, what am I saying? That's stupid, you won't feel the same way, how can you? Please, if you don't have feelings for me, don't come and see me, leave this as our goodbye, I can't face seeing you when you've read this if you don't feel the same way. So please, don't. I'll be at my house until five-thirty tomorrow evening, then I'm going, If I don't see you, I'll understand, and I'll take it as a goodbye. If I do, then, well, we'll have to see, maybe I won't leave. I know that if you do feel the same way, it'll be difficult for you, so you've got over a day to come and see me, so you can sort your head out a bit.
Well, seeing as I probably won't ever see you again, goodbye Sam, I love you. I can't quite explain my feelings properly; I've never felt like this before. You know when you've found 'the one', but they're just out of reach, well that's how I feel now. You are my one. My only one.
Well anyway, I'm sorry I'm leaving, I hope you have a great life, I really do, I hope you find happiness, someone to love you, to take care of you. I wish that person could be me, but I know deep down, it won't. So goodbye Sam.
Jo xXx
Sam clutched the note, now soaked with tears. Shutting her eyes she whispered, "I love you too Jo." Glancing at her watch to reassure herself she was right, she read out the time aloud, "twenty to six," just to assure herself she was too late to tell that to Jo in person. Her eyes still filled with tears; she pulled a tissue out of the box, wiping them dry. The blonde settled down on the sofa, curling into a ball, not wanting to go to the brunette's house just to see for herself that she was too late. She felt her heart drop as she realised, if she'd have read the letter earlier, she wouldn't be here right now, she could be with Jo. The thought broke her heart, feeling like she'd let Jo down, let herself down, ruined their one chance at happiness.
Jo glanced at her watch, seven o'clock. She turned the key in the ignition, a tear in her eye. She'd given Sam long enough, more time than she'd said, having spent the extra time just sitting in the car parked outside her house, convincing herself the blonde was on her way, stuck in traffic or something. Another tear settling in her eye, she drove off, knowing an hour and half extra was long enough, Sam wasn't interested, she would have to accept that and move on with her life. A new start was exactly what she needed. Away from Sam.
Sam climbed the stairs to bed. If only she'd read the letter earlier, she told herself, yesterday even, she could have been with Jo. If only she hadn't been so preoccupied.
