~~~ Let me preface this small chapter by saying that I forgot to do the
last chapter. None of the characters in this story belong to me. If they
did I would be a very happy person. I would also like to add that I began
this story almost two weeks ago from a couple of spoilers I picked up. So,
I know it may be somewhat similar to the most recent case, but it has a
completely different spin on things. Enjoy. ~~~
Somewhat shocked, Jack skimmed over the report, trying to find the reasons for her administrative leave. He knew there were normally only a few reasons to have it, one being if something happened on the job, such as being shot, or injuring another human, the officer would take leave until innocence could be proven.
Upon further scrutiny he learned that she had in fact shot Bryan Jacobs as well as being shot herself. Realizing her reason for being there, he immediately dropped the folder and headed to her desk to send her home.
Jack crossed the room quietly and upon reaching her desk, saw Samantha turn and look to see who was approaching. He noted that she immediately stiffened as she saw who it was. Jack went to her right and sat against the desk, trying to keep as casual and focused as possible. She didn't say 'hello' or offer a sarcastic remark, but kept typing, apparently trying to finish her report.
Sam heard footsteps approaching and frowned. She was not in any way capable of speaking with anyone, let alone Jack. Her nerves had passed their frenzied point and she had begun to grow tired from the high amount of stress and pressure she had been put under the previous evening. Having Jack come over to speak with her when she had no energy to guard herself did not make Samantha the most amiable person to speak with. She did not feel able to handle anything he might say or do, and didn't like that at all. It was all about will power, strength. Wanting something you shouldn't. Getting it and having to give it back again. She hated that.
"Why didn't you call me?" was the only thing Jack could ask at that point, too shocked not to want more details. He fixed an almost interrogator look upon his face, searching in some way for answers she would not offer vocally, something in her features to betray her.
Sam kept working, not slowing down at all, and replied with a scratchy voice, " It was late, I didn't know where you would be or what you were doing. It was kind of hectic last night. Vivian said she would leave a message."
"That never stopped you before."
"I never had a reason to stop before," she paused, turned over a sheet of paper and kept typing at a quick, mechanic pace. She knew she shouldn't have said that. See what you do to me? Make me say things I don't mean. Please go away. Let me breakdown on my own please.
Jack brushed off her last comment knowing she didn't really mean what she said and looked towards the ground, suddenly finding his shoes fascinating. He actually began to wonder why only one of his shoes was double knotted. He sat there for a moment or two; listening to her type, waiting for her to speak. Scratching the back of his head he turned once more to look at her, this time with a more compassionate approach.
"I shouldn't have sent you," he said regretfully.
"Yes you should have, he admitted to doing it . everything." Ahh, that Samantha, she was always about the job, nothing else.
"That's not what I meant." In no way willing to cross the line that was now a broad stripe, Sam used the remaining energy she had to restrain herself and continue typing.
Jack watched her grind her teeth, clenching her jaw. She was desperately trying to hold everything in, and it hurt him to see her in such a state.
Curiosity finally gave way, and Jack asked what happened that evening.
Somewhat shocked, Jack skimmed over the report, trying to find the reasons for her administrative leave. He knew there were normally only a few reasons to have it, one being if something happened on the job, such as being shot, or injuring another human, the officer would take leave until innocence could be proven.
Upon further scrutiny he learned that she had in fact shot Bryan Jacobs as well as being shot herself. Realizing her reason for being there, he immediately dropped the folder and headed to her desk to send her home.
Jack crossed the room quietly and upon reaching her desk, saw Samantha turn and look to see who was approaching. He noted that she immediately stiffened as she saw who it was. Jack went to her right and sat against the desk, trying to keep as casual and focused as possible. She didn't say 'hello' or offer a sarcastic remark, but kept typing, apparently trying to finish her report.
Sam heard footsteps approaching and frowned. She was not in any way capable of speaking with anyone, let alone Jack. Her nerves had passed their frenzied point and she had begun to grow tired from the high amount of stress and pressure she had been put under the previous evening. Having Jack come over to speak with her when she had no energy to guard herself did not make Samantha the most amiable person to speak with. She did not feel able to handle anything he might say or do, and didn't like that at all. It was all about will power, strength. Wanting something you shouldn't. Getting it and having to give it back again. She hated that.
"Why didn't you call me?" was the only thing Jack could ask at that point, too shocked not to want more details. He fixed an almost interrogator look upon his face, searching in some way for answers she would not offer vocally, something in her features to betray her.
Sam kept working, not slowing down at all, and replied with a scratchy voice, " It was late, I didn't know where you would be or what you were doing. It was kind of hectic last night. Vivian said she would leave a message."
"That never stopped you before."
"I never had a reason to stop before," she paused, turned over a sheet of paper and kept typing at a quick, mechanic pace. She knew she shouldn't have said that. See what you do to me? Make me say things I don't mean. Please go away. Let me breakdown on my own please.
Jack brushed off her last comment knowing she didn't really mean what she said and looked towards the ground, suddenly finding his shoes fascinating. He actually began to wonder why only one of his shoes was double knotted. He sat there for a moment or two; listening to her type, waiting for her to speak. Scratching the back of his head he turned once more to look at her, this time with a more compassionate approach.
"I shouldn't have sent you," he said regretfully.
"Yes you should have, he admitted to doing it . everything." Ahh, that Samantha, she was always about the job, nothing else.
"That's not what I meant." In no way willing to cross the line that was now a broad stripe, Sam used the remaining energy she had to restrain herself and continue typing.
Jack watched her grind her teeth, clenching her jaw. She was desperately trying to hold everything in, and it hurt him to see her in such a state.
Curiosity finally gave way, and Jack asked what happened that evening.