A/N: My heartfelt thanks to Mariel, my beta, who knows a writer's mind, I'd be lost without her...

Since my last update I've been fortunate enough to meet the wonderful Anthony LaPaglia, Jack Malone himself. Gosh... and gorgeous does not even begin to describe him, really... Certainly helped/helps with the writing, I must say!

Disclaimer: CBS are still a bunch of toads, and by the look of it, their new season sucks. I will not be tuning in. They still own WAT, and the characters are theirs, even though they don't deserve them.

Nearly forgot, this chapter is M rated.

ETA: I've fixed a few typos since I posted this, so sorry about that folks.

Chapter 23

In Wisconsin

Xx--

Was it actually a bad thing, to have Jack in Kenosha?

Samantha was still a little impressed he'd come all this way to see her - but as usual, she was of two minds about it.

She wouldn't be impressed if he were going to get all possessive, but there had been no signs of that in the short conversation they'd had out by the road, one-sided as it admittedly was.

She'd left New York on her own terms, and his coming here made her feel as though he'd intruded on her in some way. Of course, she'd been thinking of him - in between her mother's bursts of keeping her busy - but the initial thought that he might follow her had been shoved further and further into the back of her mind as each day had passed.

With her brain going at one hundred miles an hour, she wandered aimlessly through a small food market, paying no attention to the things she was placing in her basket. One thing she knew for sure: she couldn't hide from him this time.

Over an hour later, Samantha pulled up into her mother's driveway. Jack's car sat where she'd last seen it, but he was nowhere to be seen. The house was quiet when she went inside. Scanning the living room before putting down her bag of groceries in the kitchen, she turned her attention to the back yard. With the house obviously empty, she wasn't surprised to find Jack and Patricia sitting in deckchairs on the grass.

Her mother's meddling idea, no doubt.

"What are you doing?" Samantha asked in resigned tone.

"Drinking some of your mother's fine iced tea," Jack said, raising the glass as proof.

That was blatantly obvious -but she couldn't make sense of it. "What?"

"It's very nice out here."

Between his placid face and her mother's knowing look, annoyance crept in. "I see - this is the old thing where you charm my mom into liking you, maybe flirt with her a bit, and then the two of you gang up on me -am I right?"

Neither Patricia nor Jack had even thought of that -they had been talking about general Wisconsin things, movies and the weather, while keeping an eye on some grey clouds that had meandered across the sky.

Jack decided to take another sip from his glass and looked meaningfully over at Patricia. "I have to say, Pat, this iced tea is the best I've ever tasted." His tone was exaggerated and ingratiating.

Picking up on it immediately, Patricia responded in a syrupy voice, "Why, thank you Jack! I can rustle you up some peach cobbler to go with it, if you'd like."

Jack's eyes widened slightly. Dropping the act, a nostalgic look appeared on his face. "You know, I haven't had homemade peach cobbler for years."

"Oh, shut up both of you," Samantha grumped. She turned and stomped back to the house. This was not how things were meant to be.

After watching Samantha leave, Patricia finished up her tea and then eased herself up out of her chair. "I'm going to do some more gardening while it's a bit overcast. You stay there," she said, waving her hand airily at him, "enjoy the afternoon."

Jack, however, rose as well. Reaching over to pick up her empty glass, he looked towards the backdoor of the house. "I think I'll go inside."

Patricia let out a laugh. "Your funeral," she said. Shaking her head in amusement, she turned towards her flowerbeds.

Xx—

Jack found Samantha putting her store-bought things away in the kitchen. "Can I help?" he asked, putting the glasses in the sink.

Trying to ignore the space he was taking up in the kitchen, she purposefully carried on.

"Look, just tell me you want me to leave and I'll go," he said, not wanting to be an aggravation any longer.

That stopped her a moment.

Of course she didn't want him to leave.

As she put the milk in the fridge, she paused. "I really don't know what I want right now." It may have been the most honest thing she'd said or thought the entire day.

"All right." Jack took a step towards her. "I thought you might like to read this," he said, taking a letter out of his pocket.

She stared at his hand as she closed the fridge door. "You came all this way to deliver that?"

"It's a thank you letter from Garrison Mitchell, and it seemed like another good excuse… We also solved the Joyelle McCaffrey case, by the way."

That stopped her again. "Really -alive?"

Nodding, he smiled, his eyes tender as he gazed at her. "Plus her boyfriend, Trent Bachmann, as an added bonus."

"That's great news, although he doesn't sound familiar," Samantha said, moving to the sink.

"It's a long story." He placed the letter on the counter and stepped back. "Anyway, I'll be in the car. Come and tell me what you want me to do when you're ready."

As a further refuge from looking at him, she had crouched down to rifle around under the sink. At his words, she stilled. Speaking towards the open cupboard, she asked hesitantly, "Just like that?"

He couldn't see her face, only the top of her head. "Just like that," he said quietly.

She heard him walk away and gently close the door behind him

Xx—

Patricia looked up to see Jack walk dejectedly down the driveway. As she pulled out a stubborn weed, she wondered –not for the first time- what it was with Samantha and her men. At least one good thing, she noted, was that they weren't boys anymore. Jack seemed pleasant enough, but she'd only spent a short time with him and she was wary about jumping to any conclusions. At least there hadn't been any shouting or yelling when he was in the house with Samantha, which was a good thing. As she tossed the weed onto a growing pile, Patricia watched as Jack turned, took several paces backwards as he looked towards the house, then, his hands deep in his pockets, turn once more to continue his way down the driveway. He was obviously conflicted about something, she thought. Turning her attention back to the garden, she decided to keep her nose out of it and not find out what was going on - from either him or her daughter. Samantha was big enough to sort out her own problems and Patricia's own advice –particularly on men- had never been welcome.

Xx—

Two or so hours later, a tap on his rear window woke Jack from an uneasy nap. He looked up to see Samantha standing there, with her arms crossed. She'd read the letter, and had been pacing and thinking –especially thinking- before coming to the decision to see him. Tipping her head in the direction of the house, she set off without waiting.

A somewhat gratified and relieved Jack heaved himself up from the uncomfortable back seat and got out of the car to follow.

Xx--

Patricia was now messing about in the kitchen, with a small, shrewd smile on her face. The nature of that smile didn't escape her daughter's notice when she returned with Jack in tow. It remained as Samantha gave Jack a grand tour of the house designed to lead them to a place where they could have a proper talk.

"…And this is my room," Samantha said, pushing the door open on the last room to view.

"Nice," said Jack obligingly, looking around, "cosy -and surprisingly messy."

At that, Samantha moved to pick up some clothes she'd dumped on the other bed she hadn't been using. Her suitcase was also on it and she'd been using it instead of drawers, not wanting to get too comfortable and thinking that remaining half-packed meant she could have a quicker getaway from her mother if she needed it. "I think I've reverted back to my old ways," she muttered, embarrassed.

"It doesn't look like… you," he commented, looking around at the various bits and pieces in the room.

She finished tidying haphazardly and watched him as he looked around. "After I got married and left, Mom decided to turn it into a guest room pretty quickly and redecorated. She threw a lot of my stuff out."

"I can relate to that…" Jack was thinking of Frank and what he'd been like.

"It could be worse; Emily's room was the sewing room I showed you – it morphs into whatever handicraft my mother is into at a given time."

"Which I guess explains the patchwork quilts on the beds." Jack was finding it all very charming and quaint. He smiled as he noticed an empty glass with a fine handmade cover, complete with beads to weigh it down, on her bedside table. It definitely wasn't a Samantha thing.

She noticed his attention. "The cover's an old habit of my mom's. She always says it keeps the water from getting brackish –or something." Good grief, this is small talk at its finest…

Jack was thinking the same thing. "I guess it works then…" Seeing nowhere to put himself, he sat down on Samantha's rumpled bed and looked up at her. She was still the Sam he knew, however in her old family surroundings, he couldn't help but see something of the girl she had once been. "Come here, Sam," he asked gently.

Sitting herself purposefully on the other bed across from him, she had a questioning look on her face. "Why did you come all this way?" she asked directly. "Realized that you couldn't live without me?"

They both realized that it was not the best start.

Jack, however, chewed the last question over before replying. "To tell the truth Sam," he said carefully, "I've found I can actually live without you-"

"Oh, well, all right then-"

"I just don't want to."

Regretting her earlier flippancy, she asked in a quieter tone, "So why are you here, then?"

"I don't really know, I can't really even explain it to myself."

"You could try," she pushed, wanting to know.

"Okay then…" he sighed, thinking for suitable words; he hadn't rehearsed anything in his head, not knowing he'd get past the front door. "I just had to come and see you because I needed to, because you know how I feel about you… It's all been wrong. Everything's been wrong between us lately."

"I could have told you that."

"And I didn't like how we finished that day in the interview room."

To his surprise, Samantha hung her head down. "I know." She couldn't find much else to say.

"Will you please just come here?" he asked again, softly, wanting her beside him, wanting to feel her next to him.

"Jack..."

"Please."

"No," she said steadfastly, staying opposite him, feeling a bit wretched.

He couldn't quite understand her coolness, but he supposed he deserved it. He hadn't been too hopeful for a big reunion scene, and she didn't appear to want one right now in any case. "All right," he acknowledged, but continued to look at her while she now focussed on the floor, somewhat hunched in on herself.

Could he have hurt her that much, or did she feel bad for hurting him? Perhaps it was a combination of both.

Something was necessary as he was quite lost. "Another thing is that it feels…" he looked around the room for a moment as he sought the words, seeking help, "…it really feels like you've left me."

That made her look up. "What?"

"It felt like you'd left me," he said, changing tense.

"I know it all got too much in the interview room. It wasn't meant to be like that-" And I was only running away… for a short while…

"Well, it certainly seemed like it at the time -and then you were gone. It's just that… everyone seems to leave me, Sam, and I just can't bear the thought that you could have done that too…" The last time he'd talked like this was with Barry Mashburn and Jack thought he'd come a long way since then, but it didn't appear to be so.

"Jack, that wasn't how it was supposed to be," Samantha reiterated.

"I hope so, because it sure seemed that way."

"Words got said -you know what we're like. I've been so upset with everything that's been happening…" Or not happening.

"We both have," Jack said, wanting her to know he was suffering just the same she was.

A compromise was needed.

Jack leaned forward. "Then how about some sort of truce? We're here, now, and New York is a long way away."

She stared at him a few moments, surprised. How typically male of him; brush everything aside in favor of a quick fix. "It's not a truce I want," she stated with certainty, "I want my Jack back, my Jack of the carriage ride and that night, Jack of the Hamptons..."

"I want to be that too... I want my Sam back." He looked at his hands, now resting on his knees. "I really hate not having you around. I'd even rather have you there, not talking to me, than anywhere else. Being angry at me is fine. I'll take anything." He hoped he didn't sound desperate, but it was how he felt.

"I doubt you're really sure of that," Samantha remarked, knowing Jack wasn't quite that masochistic.

"I do know I certainly miss you at work, and everywhere else."

"And I hate being away from you... It's horrible," she admitted.

"I came here for you, Sam. I want us to be together."

"I want that more than anything, you know that..." It was just finding the ways and means. She could tell him a few places to start but that would no doubt lead them back to more arguments.

"So why… why is this all so damn hard for us?" Jack said, frustrated. "It was going so well…"

They stared at each other again, each in the same frame of mind -that something needed to be done and here they were, in yet another ridiculous, unresolved circle.

"Look, I just want to know… are we okay?" Jack asked, hesitantly.

Knowing it was the best for the moment, Samantha knew she had to give in, and nodded.

He raised his eyebrows in hope. "A truce then?"

"A truce, yes –but it's not a total truce," she added, not wanting to give in one hundred percent.

"That's fine."

They looked at each other with relief –knowing they were getting there, even if it wasn't going to be totally determined right here, right now. At least they wouldn't be fighting over trivialities.

Samantha stood up after a few moments. "You can stay the night –if the sofa will do."

"Are you sure you want that?" Jack asked, taken aback at her offer.

"I'd rather have you here than sleeping in some old Norman Bates motel."

Not wanting to stay another night in that dull, beige place either, and happy to be asked, Jack was fine with the suggestion. Preferring naturally to share the single bed he was sitting on, Jack wasn't going to push his luck and stood also. "The sofa will do. It would be nice to stay here, where you spent some time growing up… Me being here –it's not going to freak your mom out?"

Samantha shook her head. "She's quite unfreakable after all these years and not as old-fashioned as you might think. She was a bona fide hippie once."

He remembered her saying something like that before, usually in a tone of reproach.

Not that she really wanted him to, however she thought she'd ask, in a voice that clearly didn't imply it, "Do you want to go and sit in your car awhile longer?"

Hell no. "I would rather hang out with you here."

"Be warned, Mom likes old movies."

"And she already knows I like old movies from when we were talking."

"She doesn't do schlock."

"Good, and you know I don't either."

They smiled at each other, almost shyly.

Truce.

Xx--

His head bent to one side, Jack perused Patricia's DVD collection with squinted eyes; he'd left his glasses in his jacket pocket back at the motel.

"I like your collection, Pat," he said, when she walked over and wordlessly hovered.

"Nothing like a movie to make your day. You want to choose something?"

"What would you like?"

"Well, unfortunately there's always Sam's Bogart aversion to remember."

Nodding, Jack slid a DVD out. "Then how about this Hitchcock?" proffered Jack, choosing one without Jimmy Stewart for a change.

She grinned her approval. "North by Northwest –good choice. James Mason, Cary Grant, lovely -although that henchman of Mason's is a bit creepy at times. Then how about Sunset Boulevard?"

"Great film, but too gloomy I think."

"Then I'd like to watch Some Like it Hot, as it has something for everyone… Sammie! Popcorn ready yet?" she called out to the kitchen, much to Jack's amusement.

There was a muttering from Samantha, as she'd been there while Jack had been poking about.

Patricia sat down on the end of the sofa. "I thought we'd have dinner in-between shows, if that's all right." Then she looked over at Jack as he sat himself into the armchair by her, an inquisitive look on her face. "So, spell it out for me, if you and Sam were a movie, what would it be?"

He thought a moment as he put his cell phone, wallet and car keys on the small side table by the chair. "Well, boy meets girl, girl loses boy, time passes and things get confused, boy gets girl back, then it seems like boy loses girl again..." It sounded odd to him, breaking his and Sam's history down so basically and easily.

"Good grief, that's an epic! Because of what?"

Jack sighed. Yes, an epic, years in the making… "There's a long list, but lately I'd say mainly because of his daughters," he stated, truthfully.

"Daughters…" Patricia shook her head ruefully. "You're preaching to the choir here." She leaned over towards Jack. "And how does the movie end?" she asked in a hushed tone. "Does the boy get the girl back?"

He glanced over to the kitchen where Samantha was still organizing the popcorn, the smell wafting over to them. "I think so Pat, I really do."

Xx--

They ate a very civilised dinner at the table, Jack and Samantha opposite each other and Patricia on the end. Jack filled Samantha in on the Joyelle McCaffrey case, in detail. Patricia was wide-eyed, and -unusually for her in her daughter's eyes- silent. Jack elaborated on how they'd been trained to automatically hide themselves in the back of their respective bedroom closets when unexpected guests arrived; of how they'd clung to each other, crying like children, when they realized they were finally free of Melco. Jack said it was going to be tough for them, especially in their personal lives, and while hoping they'd make it together, he knew the toll it had taken on them both.

"Are all your cases like that?" Patricia finally asked, touched by the plight of Joyelle and Trent.

Samantha decided to answer. "What did you expect, Mom? That we wander the streets handing out leaflets hoping the missing will get one and wander back home?"

"Well, not exactly –I have seen some TV shows and I was just wondering…" Patricia said as she filled up all their wine glasses again.

Jack reached for his wine. "People can be a lot sicker and weirder than you think, Pat. It's not always a happy ending," he pointed out, catching Samantha's eyes as he drank; they'd seen too much in their jobs to know just how much that was true.

Patricia was thoughtful. "Well, it's lucky for us that there are people like you and your team that care enough to find people and help them."

Samantha blinked; it had sounded like her mother was paying them both a compliment -or it could be just for Jack. Either way it would do. "Ah Mom, can we start watching the next movie now?" she asked, to cover her surprise.

Nodding, Patricia got up. "Sounds good –and we'll eat the cobbler while we watch," she said, beginning to clear the plates.

His mouth beginning to water at the thought of the promised homemade cobbler, Jack rose and started to help.

Patricia reached out a warning hand to stop him."You just go and sit in the living room," she fussed. "The Spade Women are here and looking after you."

Samantha shot Jack a sharp look that clearly said: Don't even think about ever using that line on me.

Silently chastened before he had even thought it, Jack retreated to the living room.

Crossing the room to his chair, he remembered the time and grabbed his cell phone, then he moved to the front door. Hand on the door handle, he called back to the kitchen that he was going outside to make a call. Examining the night sky as he stood in the cool air, he phoned his daughters. They were fine and enjoying themselves, but the call degenerated into trying to settle a fight between them about going to the movies the next day. Lauren, Stevie's mother, intervened and said she'd sort it out. After hanging up, he looked at the stars until he heard Patricia calling for him to come in.

He wandered back to find a bowl of the promised cobbler and ice cream waiting for him by his armchair. Samantha and her mother were already ensconced on the sofa, waiting for him so they could start. He toed his shoes off while the movie started and slumped himself down comfortably. After the dessert was finished off -and between that and the tasty dinner and wine- Jack found himself contentedly sated and mellow. He was even prepared to confess to himself that it was pleasant to actually have a real night off with no family and no work to worry about. The snug and homely surroundings also contributed to his relaxation. Some Like It Hot was well on its way and hadn't lost its timeless charm.

He'd caught Samantha's eye as she glanced his way on one occasion and the same thing happened a few times further. Smiling back each time, he knew it wasn't a game they were playing; it was just the continuation of a nice and pleasant evening and he decided he liked this truce, as much as he liked being around Samantha again. Patricia seemed agreeable enough –not quite what he'd imagined after all these years of Samantha's various comments, however.

Although he was definitely enjoying the current movie, he thought he'd shut his eyes, if only for a moment…

A few minutes later, Patricia noticed him, and nudged Samantha. "He's out like a light," she said quietly.

Looking over, Samantha was amused to find that Jack had indeed nodded off, his head resting back a bit. She smiled. "Then maybe we should call it a night too."

"I'll get a blanket and a pillow for him," said Patricia, bustling off.

Switching off the TV and DVD player, Samantha watched him indulgently while she put the disc back in its case and returned it to the collection. He looked serene as he slept, so peaceful. It was amazing how one man could have her heart so completely, and drive her crazy at the same time. It couldn't last for long; he'd sort things out.

He had to.

He must.

Her mother came back and draped a blanket over Jack while Samantha rearranged the sofa cushions and put the pillow on one end.

"It's nice having a man around the house again," remarked Patricia.

Samantha smiled again as they left the living room, knowing what her mother was really like and quite sure she was still never lost for male company after all these years. She found she was glad that her mother seemed to actually like Jack, not that she'd said anything out loud, but she hadn't said anything bad, either.

"Jack's a nice man to have around," Samantha said, taking a look back at him as she turned out the light.

Xx—

Later in the night, Jack woke with a small start.

It might have been a rural thing, like a hooting owl, or the quietness of the countryside, or just from sitting in jeans too long. He had to orient himself in the strange surroundings for a few moments. The blanket that had been placed over him had slid off somewhat and he noticed a large pillow placed in readiness for him on one end of the sofa. Slowly getting out of the chair, he padded quietly down the hallway to use the bathroom. Of course that required going past Samantha's room.

He paused outside her shut door on the way there, and on the way back, not daring himself to go in as much as he'd like to, before going back to lie on the sofa. Pulling the blanket up to his chest, he stared at the various pictures on the wall for a while, knowing Samantha wasn't sleeping too far away from him for the first time in weeks. Eventually his eyes shut again and he slept.

Xx--

Something was niggling in the back of sleeping Samantha's brain.

There it was again.

Insistent.

She reluctantly surfaced from her sleep, blinking at the thin shaft of light coming through a crack in the curtains.

"Mmph..." What was that…? She groggily assessed her situation before realizing what had woken her.

Fingertips.

Lazily circling her breast, lightly brushing the nipple through her t-shirt before moving away, then returning –not a bad way to start the day in normal circumstances, but this wasn't what she'd call normal circumstances.

"Jack…" she murmured, wondering what he was up to now -although that was patently obvious.

"Shhhh," he comforted from behind her, spooning cozily, his fingers now gently coaxing her nipple harder. "I thought it might be a nice way to wake you," he said as he nuzzled her neck, breathing in her scent and regretting how long it had been.

"Oh, you're joking," Samantha muttered drowsily. "Here, in my mom's house… This wasn't part of the truce."

The nipple stroking ceased and his hand fell away, to rest lightly on her side. "Well, if you don't want to…" He couldn't hide the tinge of disappointment in his voice. "We were interrupted last time."

She thought back to the last time they were together -before his daughters and damn in-laws turned up. "No… we weren't."

"Okay -I was about to be interrupted."

"Don't tell me, is this one of those 'what happens on the trip, stays on the trip' things? Because I hate that."

That line had been in Jack's back-up arsenal. He changed tact. "We're here, in your bed and sometimes my actions do speak more loudly-"

Samantha wasn't having any of that. "No, Jack. You do not follow me here and then expect me to give in just like that," she said, despite the snug feeling of him pressed against her in the small bed which was all so familiar and inviting.

She also knew that if she took one look into his eyes she'd be a lost cause, especially this close.

Which wouldn't be a bad thing –it had been weeks, after all…

Jack propped himself up on his elbow. "Sam."

She willed herself not to react, certainly not to that lovely early morning rasp his voice always had.

He stroked her ribs, fingers lightly pressing. "Sam, look at me…"

Yielding, she turned her head. Damn…

"I came here because I wanted to see you, out of work, without my family commitments and if it worked out then great, but definitely just us…" he said, squeezing her for emphasis.

His eyes, his beautiful hazel eyes, looking at her, not imploring but just there, full of what she knew was love and caring. There was no way she could say no to him right now, not after all his effort. "It's not just us here, there's my mom," she pointed out lamely.

He tipped his head. "It's been great to meet her -in a getting-to-know-you-kind of way."

"She's just down the hall," she added.

"Well, we're good at being quiet."

Samantha had no comeback to that. "I doubt you brushed your teeth last night," she said, reaching over to get her glass of water and passing it over and behind her.

Jack took a big gulp and swirled before swallowing and before handing it to Samantha, who followed suit.

He was thrilled she hadn't kicked him out.

Waking earlier than usual - being on NYC time- and throwing all caution to the wind after a few minutes' not-so-deep thought, Jack had gone to see if Samantha was awake. He'd even asked her quietly if he could share her bed and her muzzy reply hadn't been a 'no'. He'd quietly undressed to his boxers, making sure his keys didn't jangle as he put them with his phone and wallet on the floor, on top of his jeans before slipping in behind her, where he'd been contentedly for half an hour. The caressing of her breast had almost come instinctively, as it was such a natural thing for him to do.

There was a sudden sound of water in pipes. "That's Mom, she's awake."

"How long do her showers last?" Jack asked, about as casual as a brick through a window.

"Long enough… Plus she'll be washing her hair today, and there's all her hair drying and fixing afterwards."

"Ah…" said Jack -the immediate future was looking better.

That settled that then. She lifted his dropped hand back to its original position. "Okay, but you're on your own for this one. I'm going back to sleep, I'm on Kenosha time…"

She could have sworn she heard one of his eyebrows rise and she knew he couldn't see her smug smile. "I like a challenge," and his fingers resumed their familiar circling and nipple tugging for a few moments before he snaked his hand up under her tee. "And I'm sorry," he said, "but these clothes really have to come off." After brief frantic moment of stripping later, they were back in the same position.

Sliding one of his arms under her neck, Jack's other free hand resumed the foreplay with her breast. Satisfied when that nipple was good and hard again, his fingers slowly but surely traced a light trail down her ribs and stomach –with a brief detour into her navel, before an excruciatingly long fingertip dance to her crotch.

Samantha pressed herself further against his groin. "You're like a kid who's found their favorite toy again."

"Shhhh, you're asleep, remember?" he reminded her, concentrating on his objective. Sam breathed out contentedly, sighing as she did so, as she lightly placed her own hand on his, pleased with where his hand was going to finish. She could feel Jack's lips, tongue and scratchy, unshaved face on the back of her neck where he'd pulled her hair aside; she always loved that and was immediately transported back to their last time, on his sofa.

After gently entwining his fingers in her lower, shorter hair, Jack guided his middle finger to her now aching clit. With an exhalation of pleasure from both of them, he began slowly and lightly rubbing it.

She moved against him again, feeling his rock-hardness in return. "Mmmm, nice," she murmured, her breath quickening as his adept fingers continued their work.

"Sssssshh," he quietly told her again, his hand action getting firmer and quicker; her slick wetness making it easier and smoother.

His leg came between hers, giving him better access and he took his hand away from her front to bring it round from behind, seeking her slipperiness. Deftly he slipped two fingers inside her, not too deeply, moving them around gently, in and out.

Her own hand slid down to her sensitive clit, taking over what Jack had started, using her own moistness.

"Oh God," Jack breathed huskily in her ear. "You feel so good…"

"Sssshh, I'm supposed to be asleep…" Her hand was quickening; he responded by licking and biting her earlobe, his busy fingers still going in and out. He broke off his ear attentions as the small bed wasn't designed for that position to go any further comfortably.

"Roll over," he whispered.

She was on her back in an instant, parting her legs for him, groaning happily as he lay himself between them.

With his chest pressed against her, he could feel her breasts in turn against him, and propping himself up on his elbows, he decided to stop moving.

He stopped so he could gaze at her, so he could gently push the hair out of her eyes, to savor the sight of her beneath him, to find her still wanting him as much as he wanted her, thinking of the time back at his apartment a few weeks back, where she'd had the same look on her face after all those years –total desire for him.

"Oh Sam…" he breathed, practically bursting with love and longing. "My darling, darling Sam…" He ran his fingers over her cheeks as she reached up to do the same to him, before losing them in his hair. He gently pressed his lips to her parted ones, their first kiss for so long -as light as a feather, as pure as an angel's -almost to check that she was still real and still his, through their long haze of yearning.

"I love you," he said, simply.

There may have been the start of tears in Samantha's eyes but she held his gaze. "And I love you so damn much. I was beginning to think that you'd given up on me, on us-"

He didn't hesitate. "That is not true, and I do love you, you shouldn't doubt that ever again…" and he lowered his mouth to hers again, to kiss her as deeply as he could. She shifted her legs and hips so he could enter her, as seamlessly as ever.

As he slowly started to move inside her, almost finding his way again, she wondered how she could have ever qualms about him. Clasping her legs around his waist, she let him set the gradually increasing pace, wishing they could stay in this moment forever –his arm now under her, clasping her body to his as much as he could, his mouth fastened over hers, her inner muscles clenching hold of him, their tongues becoming more frantic in their need to reclaim what had been so recently misplaced.

He pulled his head away as he liked to watch her, see her face contort with the pleasure he was giving her, mirroring it with the ecstasy she was giving him in return.

"Oh…" she sighed, not caring that the water pipes were now silent, not caring that this was her old bed, in her old room, that this was her mother's house, and that was her Mom just-out-there. These things did not matter. Her mother was going to be busy primping and preening for awhile; the bed didn't squeak too much, and Jack was being Jack –throwing himself into making love with her, as he always did –wonderfully and generously. He loved her and he'd traveled all that way to prove it and if that had been his agenda all the way here, it was of no concern.

This was her Jack, thrusting into her; her Jack, enveloping her body with his, his actions doing exactly as he'd said they were –louder and far better than his words ever could.

However Jack did have four breathless, straightforward words for her just then: "Come with me, Sam." To help, his fingers had found a way down to her clit yet again, while she dug her fingernails into his back as a reply, marking him as hers.

"Yes," she managed, urging him on to deeper, rougher thrusts -if that were possible- to achieve the treasured goal.

He was losing himself in the sensation of being with her. Jack had been luxuriating in her velvety softness and waves of pre-orgasmic spasms for long enough.

And then she came, as he knew she would, as he liked her to -shuddering, gasping and he was determined to wring every last orgasm he could out of her for as long as he could, until he heard a stuttering intake of air from Samantha, which sent him over his teetering brink, holding her tightly as he joined her finally.

They lay there, in the small room, as their heartbeats returned to normal. Jack's cheek pressed against Samantha's face, perhaps longer than he usually would, lost in the afterglow, lost in their thoughts.

Not wanting the bliss to end.

Jack lifted his head to kiss Samantha again. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Thank you back," Samantha smiled before reluctantly squirming under him, a signal for him to pull out. He gently rolled off her onto his side to curl around her, his arm under her head, while she hooked her legs over his and stayed on her back.

It was quiet beyond the door. Samantha figured her mother must have finished drying her hair by now, and was probably in the house somewhere. She would have seen straight away that Jack was not on the sofa, and she knew her mother wouldn't be surprised.

Lightly stroking her stomach, Jack needed to speak and break their snugness. "Two things. It seems that Danny and Viv know about us."

Damn. "How?"

"They bumped into your 'boyfriend' Soft Toy Boy, some time back."

"Oh, crap… The list is getting longer." She didn't really want to know.

"As if Olczyk wasn't bad enough. We'll worry about it later I suppose. They seem cool about it."

"I'll try not to piss them off, anyway."

"And my flight's not until this afternoon, if you want to do something… else, that is." He doubted they could hole up in her bedroom until he left without some reprisal from Patricia. It might be a bit much, even for her.

"I'm not too bothered. We can just hang around here, or go and discover the delights of Kenosha." In reply to his touch, she slowly slid her hand along the side of his ribcage and then his waist, coming to rest where his leg hair began below his hip.

"Such as?" Jack the New Yorker sounded doubtful that there could be such a thing.

"I think the Renaissance Faire is on." It had been threatened on a list of things to do by her mother.

"Uh-uh, that's a big pass there."

"There's the Jelly Belly jellybean factory tour."

"If you're serious, then that is actually heading in the right direction…"

"No! Over the Renaissance Faire? I'm disappointed."

"Liar," Jack teased, fingers tickling her.

"Stop it…" she chided, giggling, slapping his hip for emphasis, so he leisurely did. "Just hold-"

Jack's phone rang, startling them both. "Jesus…" muttered Jack, pulling away from Samantha to reach for it on the floor beside the bed.

Samantha groaned in annoyance. "Don't answer that, Jack."

"You know I have to -it could be the girls." He now had the phone in his hand and looked at the ID. "Christ," he said in disbelief, "it's Martin."

Samantha wasn't sure if Martin calling right then was irony, or karma being a bitch. "Look, two seconds, you can call him back-"

It was if the rings were getting louder. "He was on call this weekend," Jack explained, sitting up. "I have to take it…"

She irritably turned away from him as he answered the phone.

Listening with a sinking feeling, he knew he was needed.

Further, from what Martin was saying, he'd be either getting a call from Olczyk, or Director Baines –at his personal beck and call again it seemed- fairly soon as he again had some connection with the case. He told Martin he was out of town and wouldn't be back for several hours as it was. Thankfully Martin wasn't enquiring any further and the implication of Baines and Olczyk was enough to say it was high-profile.

Fuck.

Ending the call, Jack looked down at Samantha. "I have to leave," he said succinctly.

"So I gather."

It's always been something.

His wife.

His kids.

Their work.

She felt idiotic to imagine things would change that quickly.

Jack watched her profile a few moments; she'd shut her eyes then open them again, clearly in thought and mulling over something.

Not good.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly. Samantha said nothing as she closed her eyes again. He took a gamble. "Was that a mistake?"

She opened her eyes at that.

"You need to tell me… Sam?"

"We needed it," she said bluntly, meaning the sex; her emotions obviously a stark contrast to the way she had been a few, short minutes ago.

"But it hasn't helped matters…" He studied her expression a moment. "I honestly don't know what to say. I thought we were fine… I know what you want and please, if you'd just understand that I'm trying my hardest to make things right for us."

She wanted to be angrier than what she felt, but she couldn't stop the disappointment from her voice. "Yes, yes, I've heard it all before. Look, I'll be back soon, and we can go back to just… existing together at work I suppose." That's how it would work: He'd go back to New York right away, and she'd come back in a few days and they'd go back to their earlier ways.

So much for their very brief idyll.

"You know I want to be with you-"

"I get it. You've been very clear about it all. It's happened on the trip and it can stay on the trip." She kept her head still turned away from him. "You'd better get going. I'll see you at work."

Truce over.

Xx—

"Leaving us so soon?"

"I have to go," Jack said, almost sheepishly. Hanging around with mothers -especially 'afterwards'- wasn't his usual thing, and even if he wanted to, he still had to leave.

Patricia shrugged non-committally. "If you say so," she said in the tone of someone who was used to it. "Your shoes are by the sofa."

"Thanks," murmured Jack, going to find the one thing he didn't take to Samantha's room. Putting them on, he was waiting for Patricia to come over, lecture or question him, but she stayed in the kitchen, drinking her coffee and flicking through the newspaper. Getting up and going back to the kitchen, he felt he should say something. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"I hope you came all this way for more than just… that." Her blue eyes weren't being judgmental, just vaguely curious.

"I did -and it wasn't just for… that."

She nodded. "I hope things work out between you both."

"I'm sure they will, Pat." At least they were for a short time.

"Coffee?"

"Uh no, thanks. I really should be on my way –I have to get back to the motel, return the car and get an earlier flight," he said, rummaging around in his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed. A quick shower and shave at the motel was also on the cards.

"See you again sometime?" asked Patricia.

"That would be nice."

Small talk exhausted, he took another look in the direction of Samantha's room before leaving.

He wasn't expecting her to come out.

Xx—

Patricia poured another mug of coffee and went to Samantha's room, knocking gently before going in. Samantha was now sitting up in bed, her t-shirt back on.

"He's gone?" she asked her mother, taking the mug.

"Yes. I'm not going to ask what's up with you two," Patricia said, going over to open the curtains.

"I don't even know if I could tell you," Samantha said, blinking in the bright morning light.

Patricia sat on the bed, looking at her daughter in a sympathetic way. "But… he's the one."

"Yes." She hadn't hesitated.

"That's good. It's nice when you're sure."

The Spades sat for a few moments in silence as they both contemplated this. Patricia looked down at the bed. "Looks like we'll be doing the laundry today after all; I think these sheets were overdue as it was."

"Sorry, it wasn't planned." Jack leaving just like that certainly wasn't, either.

He could have stayed an hour longer, at least; he was going to be late for the investigation as it was.

She blamed herself as she sipped the coffee.

Stupid, stupid.

She shouldn't have said anything, just lay there in his arms, but oh no, she just couldn't help herself.

She had to stop this self-inflicted sabotage.

"Mm," agreed Patricia, "that's what he said, that it wasn't planned." She paused to look at her daughter, not unkindly. "And don't you think you're a bit hard on him?"

"Wha-?" Samantha frowned. "You ask too many questions."

Patricia now gave her daughter an earnest look. "I've learned I have to after all these years, and besides, you never give anything away."

Samantha didn't even have the strength to start an argument.

Sometimes your mother was right, whether you liked it or not.

Xx--

TBC.