Now, first of all thank you for all the great reviews that I got. Every time I find one of those in my mailbox I'm a really happy little fanfiction writer.
Jbird has done her good work on this chapter, too and is working on the next one. So if you're still waiting for Another Life to be continued, wondering what takes her so long, I'm prepared to shoulder part of the blame. You're all in for a treat when she updates! As I speak she has done so! Great!
Special thanks to Mariel for being supportive and caring about this story.
Now that I've got all this off my chest, let's get on with the story…
Tomorrow
by Serataja
-Chapter 1-
In the Beginning, Part 2
Twenty minutes later they pulled up in front of Steve's building. Jack was out of the car in a flash and Samantha followed him more slowly wondering how he could move that fast with his leg, assuming that it was less painful than it looked. A police car was parked at the curb and an ambulance was backed up to the entrance. No one was in sight but the driver of the ambulance. He was leaning idly out of the window, smoking a cigarette and calmly regarding the throng of onlookers who were waiting for some action.
Jack narrowed his eyes. He felt his chest constrict with foreboding. He hurried inside, striding up the three flights of stairs, gripping the railing hard because he could feel the bad leg buckling under him. There was really no time for that. He knew he would pay for it later but right now he was pumped so full of adrenaline he couldn't feel anything.
Danny was leaning on the wall next to Steve's apartment. His shoulders were slumped and his face white. When he heard the steps he looked up, saw Jack approaching and felt a paradoxical hope rise in his heart. Jack would set things right. Jack would rescue them out of this mess.
Jack glanced at him, giving his shoulder a short squeeze and pushed past him only to find his way blocked by a big police officer filling the door-frame. "I'm sorry, agents," he said, "This looks pretty straightforward to me. No indication of foul play."
The last sliver of hope died in Jack. The officer in front of him seemed like an insurmountable wall and the trust he could see in Danny's eyes only served as a reminder of his failure. Samantha stepped up behind him and although she was the new agent, not even really part of the team yet, her presence was comforting. He could feel her warmth and pulled together the strength to nod at the officer in acknowledgement. Pushing past him, he vanished inside. Danny slid down to a crouching position, hanging his head between his knees. Samantha bent down and put a hand on his arm.
"You all right?" she asked concerned.
He looked up at her with dazed eyes.
"I'm fine," he answered.
"Just hang in there, okay?" she said, worried about him.
"I'm fine," he said again, his voice a bit more convincing, "You better go with Jack."
She thought it odd that both he and Vivian were urging her to go after Jack. She was sure Jack could take care of himself. Having a rookie following him around wherever he went couldn't be very helpful. But she kept quiet and straightened up.
"Sorry," she said, stepping around the officer to follow her new boss inside.
She entered a small living room. Two paramedics and another police officer stood in one corner, talking in hushed voices. It was a nice room with a patterned rug on the floor and a comfortable sofa in front of a television. A young man lay sprawled on the grey cushions. There was a gunshot wound to his right temple. A narrow ring of gunshot residue surrounded it. Samantha averted her eyes from the messy exit wound, noting that a spray of blood had blemished the cushions behind it, noting also the hole the bullet had left when it ripped into the material. His face was untouched, peaceful, his right arm extended, the hand almost touching the rug near the gun that he had dropped in death.
Jack carefully stepped around the gun, not touching anything with his hands but his eyes taking in every detail. He stood stooped over the body for a long moment and Samantha got the impression that he held himself back not to touch the young agent'sface. Finally he turned away, brushing past her on his way out, his face set in stone but tears brimming in his eyes.Not knowing what to do Samantha turned to the big police officer who had entered again. His face was stricken under a cool exterior and his hands fiddled with his sunglasses.
"He's taking it hard, huh?" he said. "It's too bad. But things like that happen. I could tell you stories." He didn't look at the body, instead staring at a spot somewhere over her left shoulder.
"Have to wait for the ME. The detectives are down on the next floor taking statements. Apparently someone heard the shot. You guys want to hang around?"
Samantha suspected that Jack would want to talk to Steve's family.
"I have to check with my colleagues," she told him.
Leaving the apartment she found Danny talking to the Medical Examiner. He looked pale but composed and flashed a reassuring if slightly trembling smile in her direction. Jack was nowhere in sight. Danny pointed up the stairs, so she went up three more flights and came out on the roof. Jack was standing near the ledge, oblivious of the height talking on his cell phone.
"Yeah…yeah…," he said, "No, Vivian, we don't need her any more…it's too late."
His voice broke and for a while he just seemed to listen.
"Yeah, his gun," he finally continued. "No, I don't think so…What...? No, let me take care of that…Yes, I'm sure…Yes, I'm fine, Vivian…I'm fine. See you later."
He rang off and just stood there, immobile, looking down at the phone.
Samantha stepped up to him. When he didn't notice her she put her hand on his arm. She noticed that his muscles were trembling and gripped him harder, wanting to support him.
His other hand went up to cover his eyes and he took one deep breath. When he lowered it again his face was calm and he pulled away from her grip.
"We have to tell his parents. Are you up for that?"
"I am."
"Let's do it, then."
000
Silence is often more telling than words.
Jack Malone knew they had been spotted when he saw the curtain of one of the downstairs windows twitch. There was no need to ring the bell, the door was opening even before they reached it. He could tell by the anguish in the woman's face that she knew. They had met once, not long ago at a fundraiser and that he came to visit her home could mean only one thing.
"Ma'am…" he started to say, not yet knowing how to put his next words, but she cut him off with the mere look in her face, clenched hands pressed to her heart.
"Steve?" she asked.
He nodded.
She turned her head a fraction.
"Marc," she called out to someone in the house, probably Steve's father.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs Reed."
She stopped him with a movement of her hand and Jack complied, waiting until he heard heavy footsteps approaching. Steve's father appeared behind his wife, looking curious at first, then realization dawned on his face and with it sorrow… and rage.
"Steve?" he asked, his voice wavering.
His wife put a restraining hand on his arm, turning around and starting to sob.
Jack stared into the man's face. He fully expected to be hit in the next five seconds but he made no move to pull back.
"I'm sorry," he said again. He had done this before, more than once, but he had never been this involved before.
Marc Reed's face flushed a dark red.
"Is he dead?"
Jack nodded.
"And you got him killed. I can see it in your eyes. How dare you come and tell us."
"Mr Reed…"
Afterwards Jack thought that if his new agent hadn't stepped between them in that moment, calmly and professionally, telling Marc Reed that, in fact, his son had shot himself, he would have ended that day at the hospital.
He would not have fought back.
Marc Reed apologized for his words, later, when they had identified the body at the morgue. Jack had not been able to meet the man's eyes. In his heart he knew that Steve's father had been right. He had gotten him killed.
000
"It's not your fault, Agent Malone."
"What…?"
He had been deep in thought and now he cast a short glance at Samantha not daring to take his eyes away from the heavy traffic.
It was late in the evening. Within ten minutes of their return to the office a 6 year old boy had been reported missing. So they had gone on working, because there was nothing else to do and freezing up in guilt would not bring Steve Reed back.
"Sorry," Samantha said, "You just…I just had the feeling you've been thinking about this all day and I…"
She didn't know how to continue.
His face took on its stony cast again.
"You don't know me and you don't know what is my fault and what is not. You can spare yourself the platitudes."
With anyone else she would have been angry. But she saw the raw hurt in her new boss' face and she let it go. It had been a long day.
Jack closed his eyes briefly then turned right, entering the FBI garage. When he had parked the car he spoke again:
"I'm sorry. I was out of line."
"Was it your fault?"
He bellowed a short laugh and turned to face her.
"Considering that you're new on this job and I'm your boss, you're extremely outspoken."
But he didn't really mind. She had been there at his side all day, quietly supportive, stepping in when needed and he had felt more comfortable around her than he did even with Vivian, whom he had known and worked with for so many years.
She did not smile and her eyes were intense.
"You can't prevent people from screwing up You didn't order him to talk to that man and you didn't put the gun to his head. You had to trust him to be responsible," she said.
He was quiet for a moment.
"I lost my temper," he finally said. "I may not have been able to stop Steve from talking to that guy but I could have left him in a better state of mind. I pushed him over the edge."
"You didn't know he would react that way."
He looked her straight into the eyes.
"It is my job to know things like that. Steve felt that he was responsible for the death of two people. I should have known that that kind of guilt would drive him crazy. But I was too busy being angry. Please, don't try to make me feel better. Maybe it wasn't my fault but it was my call and I missed it."
Her eyes were staring into his, seeing him and he felt a jolt go through him at being recognized like that He tried to remember how old she was. 25? How much life experience could she possibly have? Yet, in that moment she saw through to the core of him and to the guilt that he had buried there. She didn't know what had happened to his mother and the part he had played in it. She wouldn't for years to come. But he could see that she understood that he was hiding something, and that she understood what it was doing to him. No one had ever understood before and apart from one sociopathic mass-murderer no one would ever again.
He tried to get his emotions under control.
Samantha wasn't saying anything, but her gaze was still steady on his and she gripped his arm again, like she had done on the roof of Steve's apartment building, in support. Her face was very fragile and very young but her eyes were deep and wise.
He expected her to say more. Something like: "Don't let it get to you," or "Don't let it tear you apart," but she never did. Giving him peptalks would remain Vivian's department. Being there would become hers
He pulled away from her and she smiled, opening the car door. He followed her. They still had a missing child to find.
000
Later that night the boy was found, unharmed and deeply asleep in his grandparents' apartment on Staten Island. They had picked him up at school the day before and spent the day at an amusement park oblivious that they had been supposed to do that one week later. Just a case of a date remembered wrong.
"This is one of the cases we get from time to time," Danny said to Samantha. It was 4 a.m and they were all gathered around the conference table in the bullpen. "People are reported missing, we go out looking for them, working around the clock and suddenly they're standing on our doorstep, saying: What, you were looking for me? How come? I was just visiting my aunt Ethel in North Dakota for a couple of days."
"Yeah, so right," Vivian said.
Jack looked at his people. There was strain in all their faces and it was not just the lack of sleep. It would take some time to get over what had happened to Steve and they would never forget it.
He removed his reading glasses, rubbing his eyes, unaware of the haunted look on his own face.
"Go home, all of you. Grab some sleep We can deal with the paperwork in the afternoon."
Vivian dropped the pen she was holding.
"You don't have to say that twice. I'm out of here."
She stopped behind Samantha, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Good work. I don't know what we would have done without you."
With Danny and Vivian gone Samantha picked up the sponge to wipe the whiteboard clean.
"Agent Spade," Jack said behind her, "I meant it. Go home. You've done a great job."
Smiling she wiped the board and turned around to face him. She noticed that the gold band he wore on his left hand reflected the overhead lights and although she had seen it before, regret swept through her.
I'm just tired, she thought. He will only look half as attractive in the morning. Shit, it is morning already. How will he look in the afternoon?
It occurred to her that he didn't exactly look attractive at the moment. He wore the same clothes that had been rumpled 24 hours before and his hair was sticking up. Still, he was attractive to her. Little did she know then that the attraction would never pass.
She prepared to leave. Jack had reclined in his chair and looked as if he wasn't about to move in the next couple of hours.
"Aren't you going home?" she asked.
"Just about to," he answered with a little smile, not about to show her how much pain moving his leg would cause him. He had barely made it to the conference table without anyone noticing.
She gave him a look that made him strangely warm on the inside. Then she was gone and he sighed, closing his eyes. He would have to get out of this chair, into his car, drive to the all-night pharmacy and get out of the car again to find the relief he needed. After that he would just sit there and wait until the painkillers kicked in. That was the part he looked forward to.
000
When Jack came home two hours later his wife Maria was already up, preparing breakfast for their daughters, Hanna and Kate. She responded to the small kiss he gave her and he was surprised that she was in a good mood, although he had been gone all night. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, in need of comfort. She stiffened slightly and touched his hands that were clasped on her stomach while she continued to set the table.
"Is the boy all right?" she asked.
"Yeah, everything is all right," he answered, wanting to talk to her about Steve, whom she had never met, but unable to summon up the courage. He would never really get around to telling her the whole story
He buried his face in her neck.
Maria sighed inwardly. She felt that he was in need of something more than just a kiss but she wasn't up for it. Not for the first time she cursed the hot, Irish-Italian blood that ran through his veins. She extricated herself from his arms.
"Do you want breakfast?" she asked.
He shook his head.
Maria pushed past him on her way to the sink. If she had known the man that she had been married to for almost 10 years a little better, she would have detected the residue of pain on his face and known that taking her to bed was the last thing on his mind right now. Being held for a while was all he had wanted.
When she turned around again he was gone. She heard him quietly open the door to the girls' room to check on them and she smiled to herself, relieved. She remembered the early years of their marriage and how often he had gently coaxed her into giving him the passion he needed. After a while she mostly gave in, pleased that he wanted her so much. She had loved him after all, even if she didn't enjoy the physical side of their relationship. But the early years were long past and they had stopped to talk about their different needs. They didn't talk much at all these days, to tell the truth. And Maria didn't realize that she had no idea what his needs were anymore.
000
Samantha came back to the office late in the afternoon. She felt fresh, rested and didn't mind the heat or the stack of paperwork that was waiting for her. She set to work with enthusiasm.
The blinds to Jack's office were drawn and he didn't make an appearance, although Vivian told her that he was in.
When she had finished her last report she went to see him so he could read through it. She sat in his visitor's chair and watched him go carefully through the written pages. She was shocked by how worn he looked, his face drawn from lack of sleep.
Finally he looked up.
"This is perfect," he said, "I don't know how this report could get any more detailed and precise. Good work."
A small smile touched her lips and he responded in kind. The smile transformed his face. It was as if a barrier had been broken down, making him open and accessible.
Sam felt a flutter in her chest. The first stirrings of something that in time would grow stronger than anything else she had ever felt.
It had not been love at first sight.
But it had been pretty close.
TBC
