A/N: Big thanks to Diane who got this chapter back to me post-haste! And thanks to Marianne, because she's a good nagger. Trish -now you can finally see the bits I left out!

If you've landed here without reading Sprung, Part 1, then you should go back and read that first -as I posted them both at the same time.

Okay. This is an M rated chapter. I mean it.

Chapter 19

Sprung

Part Two

Xx--

Friday.

Jack lugged the pile of laundry into his bedroom and dumped it on the dresser. It had been hot work and he was tired and bored with it. Checking his watch, he noted that Samantha would be over in about an hour, so he decided to tidy the place up. After diligently washing a few stray dishes, tidying away his laundered clothes, putting some small gifts for the girls on their beds and vacuuming, he thought a quick rest was called for in the heat. Drawing the blinds in the living room, then turning the air conditioner down a degree, he sat down in an armchair, feeling a justifiably house-proud and that the time out was well-deserved.

He had the night and all tomorrow with Samantha before the girls returned on Sunday and was looking forward to whatever Samantha had planned this evening. Saturday night was his and he'd taken up Jeremy Everard's offer by making a reservation at LDF, and had discreetly asked if there would be any Lunching Ladies or Olczyks. He'd told Samantha already so she could plan what to wear. Shutting his eyes, he allowed himself to relax, thinking what a satisfyingly busy weekend had been planned and how wonderful it would be having his girls back at home again.

The girls.

The fish tank.

Shit!

Xx—

Dressed in a flowery cotton dress and feeling a little bit like Carrie Bradshaw, Samantha stood patiently on the stoop as she buzzed Jack's apartment for the third time as she checked her watch. She was on time, but where the hell was he? He was expecting her and she was expecting him to be ready.

Men! Sometimes they were worse than women.

Her fashionable backpack -containing a change of clothes, wine, cheese, bread and grapes- was getting a little heavy on her shoulder, so she put it down beside her as she tried his apartment buzzer yet again.

Still having no luck, she got her cell phone out and called him, and when he answered, told him where she was.

A couple of minutes later he arrived at the door. "He-ey, you look lovely," Jack said, his smile making her forgive him instantly. He took in her dress, something bright and breezy which he'd never seen her in before. "Very summery."

Samantha was pleased he was pleased. "Thanks -I thought it might be nice for a picnic in the park… What have you been doing?" she asked, intrigued by his dusty jeans and tee.

He picked up her backpack. "I've been down in the storage space," he said by way of explanation and then grabbed her hand. "Come down to the dungeon."

Jack wasn't kidding. As the heavy door to the basement shut behind them with a loud clanging thud, Samantha pulled a face. "God, how can you bear the heat?" She then wrinkled her nose, "And the stuffiness."

"Down here on the left," and Jack unlocked one of the several closed doors, pushing it inwards. "This is mine."

Faced by a mountain of boxes illuminated under an old neon light, Samantha hoped he wasn't planning on looking through all of them, although he looked as though he'd been giving it a good attempt. He had gone around the door into the corner and was already busy making a makeshift seat for her out of several solid boxes that contained Maria's law books -sent from her Chicago office- but he didn't feel the need to inform her of that.

He dusted his hands after placing the last box against the wall. "There you go," and then helped her up.

Happily perched she looked around again. "And why are you here?" Her picnic idea appeared to be disappearing as fast as the sun would be eventually setting outside.

"Fish tank –I promised Kate weeks back I'd find it. It's important to her."

"Of course," was all Samantha could come up with, looking around as he pulled a penknife out of his back pocket and turned back to the boxes. She was thankful he'd left the door half open, not that there appeared to be much air coming through. It was like an oven.

Not what she was expecting for her Friday evening, so she crossed her legs, making herself a little more comfortable on the boxes and watched him at work.

After several minutes, the heat was starting to get to her and the stale air was cloying -she hoped she wasn't becoming suddenly claustrophobic and that they wouldn't be here for much longer. Jack was now squatting, peering into another box he'd sliced open, with his t-shirt ridden up just enough to show an inch of his lower back.

She stared at the band of moist skin.

He closed the box and swore as he pushed it to one side. Standing, he surveyed the pile as his hand rubbed his back. "I know it's here, but which one, damn it!" He swiped a hand across his chest in damp frustration before shoving it through his hair.

Samantha shifted position on the boxes, uncrossing her legs to stop them sticking together and spreading them a bit, watching while Jack pulled the bottom of his tee up to wipe his face, this time exposing his stomach.

"I thought I'd written what was in each and every box before the movers took them all away…" He turned to her, hands now on hips. "Sorry Sam, I thought I'd find it quicker than this."

"'S okay," she murmured, watching him turn away and bend over to move a box he'd already checked. The jeans made his butt look good from her viewpoint and his arm muscles tensed as he lifted the box up onto another.

Dear God…

She could feel her hair sticking to the back of her neck and she hitched her hem up and used it to fan herself a bit, although it didn't succeed in cooling her one bit.

Then she pulled it up a bit further so it was mid-thigh. She was finding her breathing was getting a bit heavier, and it had nothing to do with the air and everything to do with the sight of a hot, sweaty, working Jack.

She could almost physically see the pheromones he was saturating her with, floating about in the still air as he continued, unknowing at his effect on her.

Samantha really couldn't stand it any longer.

"Hey."

He was using his knife to slice open another carton top. "How could I lose a fish tank for Christ's sake? It's not like it's a small bowl or anything."

"Jack…"

"Mmm?" He glanced over at her.

And did a double take.

Samantha ran her hands along her thighs, parting her legs further and dragging the dress hem up even further. "Over here…"

He was rooted to the spot, but rallied enough to point to a space between them. "Here… now?" he rasped.

She wasn't in the mood for playing games. "Now."

Far from unwilling, Jack made it over to Samantha in two steps, shoving the knife in his back pocket and pushing two boxes of books aside with his foot.

Throwing her arms around him, she pulled him against her and wasted no time in crushing her lips against his. Standing between her legs, he moved his hands quickly up the outside of her thighs, then hooked a thumb under the thin strap of her thong at her hip. Deciding to slow down, he leisurely moved his hand around her leg until his thumb reached her crotch under the flimsy fabric.

Catching his breath when he felt how wet she was, he buried his face in her neck, half sighing, half laughing. "Jeee-sus, Sam…" he breathed, almost in admiration, surprised that her panties weren't soaked through. "Of all the places for this…"

"We could stop-" she began half heartedly, but was silenced by Jack's mouth finding hers again, his tongue making speech impossible and his fingers making any other stupid ideas vanish.

She moaned in protest as he pulled his mouth away, turning his attention to her thong. He half thought to cut the thin straps with his penknife, but he also knew the inverse law -the less material used, the more expensive it was. So he settled for tugging and Samantha helped by squirming. Once the panties were taken care of, Jack threw them in the direction of the backpack and hitched her dress up as far as he could, while zeroing in on Samantha's hungry lips again, his fingers again seeking her out.

But her moaning implied that his teasing fingers weren't enough, so Jack leaned in on her, gently pushing her body back while bringing her pelvis more forward. "That's going to be an interesting angle," Samantha murmured.

Which wasn't what Jack had in mind at all. "Soon," he said huskily and to Samantha's sheer delight went down on his knees -ignoring the pain he'd no doubt have later- and slid his hands under her ass. Gasping and stretching her legs wider to allow his mouth and tongue full access, it was all Samantha could do to stop from crying out loudly as his fingers dug into her flesh, his tongue lapping her clit and, then pushing inside her, tasting her salty sweetness, his saliva adding to her own juices.

They both could have stayed there blissfully for quite some time. Samantha's hands were running through his hair, gently pushing his head against her; his enjoyment at her reactions and the novelty of not doing it in bed was adding to their thrill. His tongue was firm yet gentle, and as insistent as the waves of ecstasy she was feeling.

It was so damn good...

"Oh God, Jack," she said, breathlessly, "you'd better come up for air..." It was the least she could do.

Not particularly wanting to finish, he indulged her further and took his time, treating her to long lingering strokes of his tongue, before finishing off with a few well-placed kisses, leaving her on the brink, quite happily so. Finally getting up to stand, Jack then put his hands on either side of Samantha against the wall, leaning over her as he gave her a long kiss, letting her taste herself as her hands were busy undoing his belt. "We really need to do something about this-" she whispered against his mouth, blindly fumbling with it all. Jack –his face nuzzling hers- had no problems with letting her take care of him while he was thinking of the best, most comfortable position they could manage in the cement surroundings.

She had succeeded in unzipping him and pulled his jeans down a bit, her hand just reaching inside -as eager for his release as he was- when they heard the unmistakeable sound of the basement door slamming shut. Then there was the racket of some excited children and a parental voice telling them to calm down, unbelievably all coming along towards their door.

They froze, looking at each other as running footsteps slowed down. Samantha hesitantly peeked over Jack's shoulder. The storage space door was partially open and they were behind it –still, a young, enquiring eye at the crack would no doubt see them quite clearly -Samantha's bare legs around Jack's hips, his jeans in the process of being pulled down.

Samantha looked back at Jack, and found herself focussing on a bead of sweat running down his temple. He found he was holding his breath as he turned his head towards the door, just as a voice going past yelled out for the kids to move it or else. He breathed again as he looked back at Samantha's relieved face.

"Upstairs, I think," he whispered.

Removing her hands from inside his jeans, Samantha reached up to wipe away the drop of sweat she'd been concentrating on, and she found she was one hundred percent fine with his idea.

Xx—

Jack gradually woke. He didn't know what the time was and he didn't want to find out. It was obviously morning, and that was good enough for him. Lying face down, he lifted his head from his pillow and looked blearily over to Samantha. All he could see was a riot of blonde hair; he couldn't even tell if she was facing him or not, but like him she was on her stomach. He dropped his head back down, a small sigh escaping his lips, but in a satisfied way. He decided to stay there for a while longer, listening to Samantha's deep breathing and the Saturday sounds of the city.

He was feeling warm and soporific, but awake enough to idly wonder if Samantha would consent to some nice, lazy weekend sex –before or after breakfast, it wouldn't matter. Then he wondered what she might like to eat –he was sure he could rustle up some pancakes and fresh fruit for her. But he was hoping she'd prefer something pre-breakfast.

If she didn't want sex, then that was okay too. It could wait. It wasn't like they'd done nothing the previous evening.

However, it was because of that, that Jack found he was definitely in the mood for more.

His mind wandered over to the living room, where he knew there were a couple of glasses and empty bottles of red wine, along with the remains of their after-sex picnic and their scattered clothes.

Coming up from the basement, he put the backpack down, closing then chaining the apartment door. Samantha, initially pausing with indecision, then headed into the living room. Following, he found himself again hungry with anticipation for her as she shot him a certain look over her shoulder, obviously wanting to continue where they had left off. Stopping by the sofa, she then pulled her hair up, waiting for him to unzip her dress. Jack made short work of it and watched as she stepped out of the dress, wearing nothing but her heels and bra.

It became even better when she got onto the sofa - bending over the arm, facing away from him. He wasted no time pulling off his t-shirt and unzipping his fly, kicking his jeans and boxers off in his rush to curl himself against her back and ass. His damp body stuck against hers as he pushed aside her hair again and buried his face in her neck, heavily kissing and licking her salty skin.

So many flavors to her...

He shifted his hips on the bed as he remembered.

Unhooking her strapless bra and flinging it away from them; now he could touch her breasts more freely from behind. Jack slid his hands between them and the sofa arm, finding Samantha's nipples delightfully hard against his palms, roughly squeezing them. Her hand slipped behind her to run down his hip and trailed her fingernails down his thigh. She then repeated the journey upwards, enjoying the groan he made against her. She didn't seem bothered about him pressing down against her, and had been busy moving her hips and ass against him, sounds of obvious pleasure escaping from her lips as she felt his hardness against her body in return.

"So much for being quiet," Samantha said, by way of apology before turning her head to find his mouth and bite down on his lower lip.

"Then this will have be our last noisy time," he managed to say, pulling her primed and ready body further against him, having no problems maneuvering her pliant body for better access, easing himself gently inside with a few gentle lunges.

But he knew what she really wanted as much he did in the present circumstances, so then he hammered himself forcefully into her.

It had been wonderfully loud, raw, rough and sweaty, and totally left them wanting each other more.

Undeniably in the mood now, Jack rolled onto his side to release some of his ache.

And he was just reaching over to gently lay a waking hand on Samantha's back, when he heard something.

He stopped –the sound was definitely coming from the front of the apartment. He cocked his head, wondering what it might be and rapidly put two and two together.

Oh shit, no, no, no…

He jumped up, grabbed some boxers and a t-shirt from the floor and threw them on. Rushing out of the bedroom, he knew exactly what it was.

The chain was stopping the front door from opening, but it was open far enough for two small hands to be pushed through and two voices: "Daaaa-ddyyyy."

He wasted no time undoing the chain and practically fell backwards as the girls tumbled in on him, a mass of hugs and kisses.

"Hey!" he said, in honest surprise and delight. "You're here!"

"Daddy -look at this!" Kate waved a sheet of paper with a drawing on it at him.

"Check these out!" Hanna was pointing at her feet, clad in what Jack took to be new soccer boots, a soccer ball under her arm.

Looking over them he saw Mickey and Joyce at the door.

"Not too much of a shock is it?" asked Joyce, coming inside. Like she would care, but at the moment Jack was still recovering from astonishment.

"No… no! I was just expecting you all tomorrow morning –that's all." The girls were jumping up and down, still both trying to get Jack's attention. "Okay, okay! Show me your things."

"Can I dump this stuff now?" asked a rather harassed sounding Mickey. "It's a long way up those damn stairs…" he mumbled, dragging in some new luggage Jack had never seen before.

Admiring the cleats on Hanna's boots as she held her foot up and hoping she wouldn't wear them on the wooden floors, Jack just managed amongst the excited squealing: "How come-"

"We're so early?" cut in Joyce. "Mick's got some business that's come up in the city and well…"

"There's something else we have to do," said Mickey, as if in explanation. "I tell you, these bags are heavy-"

Jack pointed in the direction of the girls' bedroom. "I got you some welcome home presents. They're on your bed."

"Yay!" they chorused and ran off, leaving Jack with his semi in-laws.

Xx--

Samantha had been woken by Jack's bounding out of bed and was now near the bedroom door, pulling on her robe, as the girls ran to their room. Transfixed like a deer in the headlights, she stayed hidden by the doorway, wondering what to do next -and trying to listen.

She was sure everything would be all right because Jack said it would be.

Right?

Xx--

"Before you ask, they've been thoroughly spoiled –as is our grandparental right," Joyce said in a tone that brooked no argument. Jack wasn't going to go there, but he couldn't decide if he preferred her crying on the phone to him or her usual demeanor.

"So, where can I dump these?" Mickey asked, starting to tire of holding the bags. "I don't think I'd make it as far as their room, frankly."

"Oh, in there," Joyce said, waving him into the living room before turning back to Jack. "We wanted to ask if we could have them for awhile again next summer," she asked Jack in her most kind-hearted manner, her face no doubt straining with the effort of being nice to him for the favor.

He'd barely registered the request before he turned to see Mickey shuffling in to the living room. He could hear the girls squealing in their room and the sounds of what could be them bouncing on their beds.

Mickey was now standing in the living room doorway looking around as he dropped the bags with a thump.

"Is that okay, Jack?" Joyce wanted an answer.

He turned his attention back to Joyce. "Next year, summer holidays -yes, that's fine… Ah, Mickey –are there any more bags I can help you with?" Jack ventured, but it was not enough of a diversion that Jack suddenly remembered he needed.

Mickey turned to look at him.

Oh crap…

His former father-in-law's face said it all. "What's been going on here…?" Mickey demanded in a very low, dangerous voice.

"What's up?" Joyce went over to her husband.

Jack could have begun protesting but he knew it was useless –Maria's parents were intelligent, but tempered with their own brand of belligerence. He slowly went over to shut the front door before joining them.

He knew there were bottles, glasses and food on the coffee table. He knew that Samantha's dress had been thoughtfully picked up and half-heartedly laid on the armchair before they'd eventually headed to the bathroom. Her heels were on either end of the sofa –where they'd ended up after they'd dug too much into Jack's thighs and he'd practically wrenched them off her. He didn't need to see that her flung bra was on the other side of the room in plain view. Her panties were dangling out of the backpack, while his jeans and boxers had been roughly shoved further away from where they'd initially had been on the floor –they'd been in the way when Jack and Samantha had left the sofa for a firmer surface.

It wasn't looking good, Jack conceded.

It was looking very, very bad.

And he didn't know how the hell he was going to get out of this one.

Joyce took a step into the room, taking it all in. "What on earth…?" She turned back to Jack, an indescribable look on her face. "Have… have you had a… a hooker in here?"

It would have been a funny question at another time, but it was this time at present. Jack knew she was deadly serious. "No, Joyce –definitely not, let me explain-"

Mickey was still looking around. "Then what the hell have you been doing?" He turned back to Jack. "Look at you! Did you know that your t-shirt is back to front? Did we interrupt you or something? And looking at this mess it's obvious that you're some kind of amoral-"

"Mickey…" Jack warned him, his hands clenched at his sides.

Stepping up to the taller man, the typically taciturn Mickey jabbed a finger at him, just short of Jack's chest. "No, you listen to me, you son of a bitch… this was also my daughter's house, her home and she's barely-" he swallowed heavily, "barely dead in her grave and you get some slut in here-"

"No, I damn well am not!" said an appalled voice behind Jack.

Whipping around, Jack saw Samantha standing a few feet away. Mickey and Joyce looked around Jack, staring at the latest development.

"So we did interrupt something," Joyce's voice was edged with disbelief.

"Sam, perhaps it would be best if you went back to the bedroom," Jack said quietly.

Arms folded, she stood defiantly. "No Jack, he hasn't any right to say that about me."

Jack's voice was heavy with resignation. "I know, but Sam…"

Joyce had been looking at Samantha with an inquisitive stare, now she was whispering to Mickey.

His face went redder. "You're kidding!" he cried out.

Joyce shook her head. "I'm sure."

"What now, Joyce?" demanded Jack.

"I remember Maria talking to me at length about a certain 'Sam' from your office. This is her, isn't it?" Joyce asked icily, watching as Samantha passed by her to pick up her dress and bra.

For her part Samantha decided this was not a good time to maintain eye contact. She was suddenly reminded all too clearly of Maria in the break room during the deposition.

Jack hadn't known that Maria had confided in her mother –but it made sense. He said nothing.

Taking Jack's silence for affirmation, Mickey shook his head incredulously. "Couldn't wait for my daughter to die before moving in on her, eh Jack? Finishing what you began years back? Jesus, you really are an asshole –what a great husband you were."

"You seem to have forgotten that we were divorced some time before she died, Mickey. You daughter did quite nicely out of that."

"And apparently you are doing quite nicely of it now," retorted Mickey, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in Samantha's direction.

Jack glowered at Mickey, patience thoroughly thinned, knowing they could stay like this all day -stinging each other. He should know –his final months of marriage seemed to have been full of it and now he knew it must have been genetic on Maria's side. But he was totally on the back foot here, in his own home.

Matters could get worse.

They did.

"Dad, what's going on?" Hanna and Kate had emerged –of course.

Jack realised he hadn't been hearing their background noise for a few minutes –it must have been after Samantha had appeared in the living room. He was suddenly worried about how much they had heard. "Girls, would you go back to your room please?"

Hanna pointed at Sam. "What's she doing here?"

Kate had spotted something else. "Where are all Mommy's pictures?"

Samantha sat down in an armchair her bra and dress bundled up on her lap, hoping to just disappear. This could have gone better, perhaps she should have stayed in the bedroom, but she'd crept out as the voices had gotten louder until she'd had enough.

This was turning into some slice of dramatic, living hell.

Jack knelt down beside Kate. "I just put the pictures away for awhile," they'd been on his list of things to do later today actually, "don't worry, I'll get them out again-"

"I asked you -what's she doing here?" Hanna's voice was getting louder. She wasn't stupid and could also put two and two together –which she certainly did. "You've been having sex with her, haven't you, Dad?" It was an accusation, not a question. "In Mom's bedroom."

Now holding Hanna's hand for comfort, Kate's head swivelled up to look at her sister's face.

Jack was reeling by Hanna's audacity –just what the hell were young teenagers learning these days? No, correct that –his young teenager. But then in his line of work he should have known better. "Honey, you know Mommy and I divorced some time back-" he began, trying to explain.

"No! It's not right! Mom's been gone a few months and she's here!"

Samantha covered her eyes. She should leave but it still meant she had to change, and her clothes were in the backpack –there was only a lonely pair of panties and a sensible bra in her drawer in the bedroom. Worse than that -it meant getting up and going past the family. She pulled the front of her robe more tightly around her, willing herself to disappear.

Jack was going to have to fight for them both on his own. Any opinion she'd have would be ignored, anyway.

"Hanna, sweetie, you don't understand-"

"I don't want her here," Hanna announced coldly. Being babysat by Samantha was one thing, it seemed -having the babysitter sleeping with your father was something else.

"Look, we can talk about it-"

"No, we can't and we won't -you're not seeing her anymore!" Hanna yelled, rounding again on Jack.

"I'm sure you don't mean that."

"You bet I do -and Kate too." Hanna looked at Kate, who nodded. It wasn't a vague agreement for going along to keep Hanna happy –to Jack's growing dismay it was as determined as her down-turned mouth.

Jack couldn't believe it. Mollifying hadn't worked so now he went for the other option. "Now, don't start acting stupid-"

Samantha tried to shrink further into the seat cushions. She could see that Jack –who could come down so hard on suspects and criminals- was not handling the two girls well at all. Not that he'd had all that much training in this current situation. She knew she hadn't, even with an older sister.

"Because if you don't…" Kate's small, quavering voice began. "Then Grandma and Grandpa can look after us. We'll go and live with them."

Looking up at that, Samantha could see Kate's stern face, Hanna's resolute one, but not Jack's. She could see Mickey and Joyce exchange looks –they'd clearly spoken about this subject before, perhaps in jest, perhaps not.

Jack was still as a statue. "What?" he whispered.

Kate's chin was firm. "We don't want you seeing Sam."

Nodding, Hanna kept piling it on, knowing in her young way, she had Jack cornered. "Only at work. No sneaking around."

How much did they know?

How much had Maria told them?

Surely not…

"I see," mumbled Jack, getting up to sit on the arm of the sofa, shocked at the ramifications of what his daughters had said. It hadn't been that long ago when he'd opened the front door –so much had changed in such a short amount of time.

They had to be kidding.

Weren't they?

They're only children…

There was a difficult silence in the room.

Joyce cleared her throat. "Uh, Hanna why don't you tell your dad what else we came back to do -the surprise, remember?"

A smile brightened Hanna's face. "We're all going to see Wicked tonight! Mom had promised to take us."

Unnerved at Hanna's sudden change, Jack could only watch.

"Grandma and Grandpa got tickets for tonight as a surprise," added Kate.

"And that's including you, Jack," Joyce said, softly.

He couldn't look at Hanna anymore and he couldn't look at Sam either, he just couldn't. "No, that's…fine," Jack said, trying not to sound as wretched as he felt.

This couldn't be the way it goes.

Mickey suddenly clapped and rubbed his hands together. "I'm hungry –how about if we go out for breakfast! What do you think, girls?"

"Yay!" Kate said excitedly.

"Let's go the diner around the corner," Hanna suggested. "I'm taking my soccer ball!"

"You're coming too, Daddy," Kate stated.

Jack looked up from his unfocussed stare at the floor. "What? Yes, okay, give me a few minutes…"

Joyce glanced over at Samantha before speaking to Jack. "We'll be waiting for you."

Samantha knew that was meant as the singular, not the plural; as if she was expecting an invitation to join them.

The girls and their grandparents went out, closing the door behind them and Samantha wasted no time in getting up.

"I'd better get going," she said, heading off to the bedroom with her bundle, not really knowing what to say.

Scarcely aware of what he was doing, Jack picked up the backpack and his jeans before following her.

Samantha thanked him as he gave her the pack and she pulled out the jeans and t-shirt that were in there, then she took her dress and bra and stuffed them in. Changing while Jack found a fresh shirt to go with his jeans, she surreptitiously watched him.

Never had buttoning up a shirt taken so much of his concentration.

Finally, when they were both ready, Jack picked up her bag and gently took her hand -like he had as they'd left the basement the previous night, but now in entirely different circumstances. "Come on, I'll walk you to the corner," he said, managing a smile.

Samantha bravely smiled back. She couldn't expect him to use up any more time, especially with the girls and in-laws waiting. They had a quick detour to the living room on the way out to retrieve Samantha's shoes, which she then slipped on.

"I think that's all my clothes, there's nothing left in my drawer –except the robe," Samantha said. "You can look after that for me."

"Uh-huh," was all that Jack replied.

He was somber as they left the apartment and made their way to the sidewalk, and Samantha mirrored him, not being much in the mood for chatting either as they walked along the street.

Looking around and up at the sky, Samantha could tell it was going to be yet another scorching hot day -a good day to spend indoors or somewhere with a cooling breeze and shade. She suddenly remembered their time in the Hamptons –amazed it was only a short while ago and what a perfect time it had been.

Stopping as they came to the corner, Jack put the backpack down, finally garnering the courage to speak as he gestured down the road. "Okay, I have to go this way… Look," he said, feeling terrible, "I'm sorry about tonight."

"No, it's okay. I'm sure Jeremy could fit us in soon when we can make it."

"Ah, yeah…sure," Jack said, forcing false hope into his voice. "Of course." Whenever that may be.

"And I'll see you –not this evening obviously, but how about tomorrow night? Perhaps Stevie could baby sit. I'm sure she'd like to see the girls."

Jack was quiet.

"Okay?"

Still quiet.

Her forehead furrowed -his reticence was starting to get to her. "We will still be seeing each other –right?"

Oh fuck, he's avoiding looking at me.

He could always make his face a cipher, but she knew how to read his eyes.

Everything was always there.

"We'll still be at work together-" he said, blindly focussing on a road sign across the street.

"Just…at work?" The words felt hollow as she said them.

Surely, he can't mean what I think he is…

"For the moment, for a while… perhaps some time." He glanced at her face to find she was staring intensely at him. "I have to think of my girls…" he murmured before finding another sign to look at.

Samantha's mouth was dry and was in no mood to choose her words. "Let me get this straight…You're telling me that you're taking that 'threat' seriously? That you're going to let your two children dictate how you live your life –is that it?" she asked, heart and voice breaking with every word, hardly reconciling what she herself was saying. He didn't turn his head towards her. "Jack… how can you shove me aside –again- like this?"

Jack's eyes flicked momentarily to meet hers once more and Samantha could see the searing inner pain in them -before he inevitably looked at his feet.

"You can't do this to me, to us –all over again," she whispered, disbelievingly.

"Sam, you know I love you… but it's different now. I have no choice-"

"The hell you don't."

"I just don't want to take any chances -I can't risk losing them again. Give it time; I'm sure they'll come around."

"When, Jack? Am I supposed to sit at home and wait for them to give you permission?"

"Being a parent –it affects how things are… Give me time," he repeated quietly.

She rubbed her hands over her face, as if wanting to wake up from a dream –or nightmare. "We've waited so long and it was working so well between us… You can't possibly be willing to be part of this…" she trailed off. She could feel his old duality was back, and it was tearing him apart once more. "It's not good enough…"

Back when he was separated, the girls still had Maria –he'd said that in the office to her and Vivian that time. And now there was just him. It was a strong hand of theirs in play and an impossible one to beat. All of a sudden it made Samantha feel she had no cards to stack against them, except for one.

Her love for him.

And she didn't know if she could even win with that right now.

"It's just not good enough," she repeated as she picked up her bag. She was gritting her jaw together as she looked at him -anything to stop herself from crying on the sidewalk in the morning sun.

Jack reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheeks. "One day…" he whispered, drawing his face to hers, "before long… I swear it," and he kissed her.

She responded hungrily at first but then relented as she sensed he wasn't kissing her that way.

There was no mistaking: it was a chaste 'goodbye' kiss.

Unfortunately, she was no stranger to it from him.

Desperate to cry, she found she couldn't even manage that.

"I'll see you Monday," he said softly, every syllable betraying him, a ghost of a smile on his lips -as some sort of hopeless, useless reassurance for her.

Saying nothing, feeling everything, she watched him turn and walk down the street.

Away from her.

She couldn't believe it.

Xx—

Jack sat in the booth beside his happy, chattering daughters, his gladness in seeing them back home fighting past his internal despair. Mickey and Joyce were restrained, perhaps actually sensing what Jack had just gone through, and perhaps realising it had all gone too far.

That would be a first.

As the food arrived –pancakes, of all things- Jack forced his mind away from Samantha and what he'd just done to her to play happy families, like that whole scene at the apartment hadn't happened

The food wasn't going to fill the gaping feeling inside him.

Letting the girls talk about their vacation, Jack tried forcing himself to eat, but found he had no appetite as he moved bits of food around his plate.

Also hurting him were the small, triumphant looks Hanna kept shooting at him.

God, she's just like her mother.

And of course it was the usually observant Kate that finally noticed it.

"Dad, where's your ring?" she asked, her small face confused as she looked at his hand.

Jack inadvertently looked down at his finger.

It's official. You can add this to the list of the worst days of my life.

Xx—

To be continued