~Alrighty. Once again all this, isn't mine. Well, at least the characters
aren't. I would like to give a shout-out to the reviewers. I can safely
say that y'all are the most hardcore, fantastic, talented people, and I am
downright happy to have this story read by individuals such as yourself. As
to my being a lurker at a certain board that is absolutely wonderful,
hahaha, is all I can offer in response.
I would also like to apologize for any roughness in the conclusion to this
story due to me posting in a hurry. My computer is dying and I am trying to
get his up before the blue-screen of death takes over. Anyway, enjoy the
finale and have a lovely day.~
The infedels live on, part IV.
In their general vicinity, there was only one person who had already come in and begun working and he enjoyed the glow of his computer screen more than daylight and human contact, hence the reason for his early arrival. Sam frowned upon her inability to recall his name. It was something like Byers or Langley, no that wasn't it. He had a thing about helping those people who believed in aliens. Hey whatever floats your boat.
Her wandering mind was brought back to reality when she felt herself responding, "Yes, I'm sure. I'll be fine Jack. Nothing a good nap won't cure." What? Where'd that come from? She really did need a nap. When was the last time she'd slept? Depending on one's definition of sleep, not for a good month or two. As far as closing her eyes for a standard amount of time, that being around five and a-half-hours, she was doing that regularly. Up until about what? 60 hours ago? She put her hand up to her temple again. Too much thinking.
Sam decided to physically distract herself from her thoughts and got the document to start printing. She began fiddling with the mouse, pushing it around the mouse pad out of lack of control and nervousness. Aware that Jack's eyes followed her colorful knuckles, which drastically contrasted with her light skin, she removed her hand and placed it in her lap. Jack returned his eyes to his feet, his arms crossed.
Jack's head was spinning, much in the same fashion as Sam's. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to do ten things at once, all of which would be frowned upon. Jack rubbed his face with his hands, a last ditch effort to wake him from this crazy dream. It didn't work though, Sam still sat in front of him, passive, distant, dazed, pick your synonym. Either way, she was gone. All that was left was that blasted wall again. Almost a shell of where she used to be.
Remembering that he hadn't completely looked at her yet, he returned his gaze to her to see if anything was amiss. As far as he could see, the right side of her body was fine. Without even thinking, Jack brought his hand up to her chin and turned her face towards him. Sam flinched with the contact of his skin upon hers and the pain it sent radiating throughout her face. A rush of heat and emotions flooded her senses causing her to gasp. He hadn't touched her face in a long time. She immediately pushed his hand away, never looking him in the eyes.
Without saying anything, Jack stood up and walked away, confused and bothered. Sam sat there, stunned and pained at the same time. With another deep breath and a loud sigh, she closed her eyes instead of looking for where walked off to. She relaxed in her chair, placed her fingers on her temples and lightly massaged them, hoping her grazed arm would stop making that pulsating feeling every time she moved it or flexed.
Jack stood at the coffeepot, angry because he hadn't been there, angry because she was in so much pain, and angry because she had fortified this barrier between them. He remembered the first time he'd met her. Rumor had it was that she was a sharp shooter who had turned down a high-level job after critically injuring her partner with a stray bullet. He never asked why she chose the Missing Persons Unit as her post, but he never asked that of anyone. They were there to do their job and that's all that mattered. He laughed because at the time when she arrived, he thought she was just a kid, barely out of training, trying to act tough. She had him fooled for a long while, never breaking down, not even after she shot someone again out of self-defense. He never knew that she went home and cried for hours, or that she vomited whatever she ate for two days afterward.
Not until a little over a year ago did she actually show any emotion when dealing with a case. The stress began to take its toll on her after a series of cases that led to dead ends, deaths or unresolved cases, and Sam was a step away from having a nervous breakdown. He'd started watching her carefully then, waiting for her to crack and let it all out. She finally did, when they both went to Montana to pick up a child who turned out to be incorrectly identified and was the wrong child. That broke the last straw all right. And when it rains, it pours for Samantha Spade. When all was said and done, Jack had been introduced to some ice cream and learned the real history of Special Agent Spade. After that trip she became a different person, more lively, expressive, confident.
He felt like he was seeing the old Sam, the one who was bothered by nothing, protected from everything, unwilling to show her feelings. Jack didn't know whether he was to blame or if she was experiencing momentary technical difficulties. All he knew was that this façade, her automatic shutdown reflex, needed to disappear from her system. He wanted to touch her again without her recoiling, wanted to talk with her and look her straight in the eyes and have her return the sentiment.
He filled up the cup, black - she liked it strong, and headed back towards her desk. "Thanks," she forced out as he placed the cup on her left side next to her keyboard, leaning against the desk with his head cocked to the side so he could fully see her face. She turned away and started to back her chair away, but he kept it in place with his feet. Sam looked down at her hands, bringing one up to quickly brush the hair that fell into her face. Knowing defeat well, she knew when to surrender. She sighed and closed her eyes as tightly as possible, then looked up at Jack, straight in the eyes with her forty-foot wall erected and firm.
There were butterfly bandages covering a cut on her left cheekbone, which was now swollen, puffy and an unusual shade of green. Her face betrayed no emotion, as though she were a mime forbidden to show any feeling. He'd seen this face before, but never directed at him and it made him uneasy. What happened to the woman who laughed at the way he walked, or gave him a slight raise of an eyebrow when he entered the room? This couldn't be her. This woman in front of him was completely detached, no emotion, no feeling. He knew enough at this point when a woman didn't want to be around him. Jack broke their steadfast gaze and turned towards the sound of doors opening and one or two people arriving.
Sam sat there expressionless, looking at Jack, but staring right through him. She wanted to completely cut off her emotions until she was in the safety of her own home, where she wouldn't get hurt.
Cutting off her emotions. Was that not her goal? She was a woman in man's job was she not? She had been bested in every way imaginable, and was reeling from its effects and the consequences. She had to be ten times more strong, more intelligent, more assured than the next man, and all she really wanted was a hug and some ice cream.
Sam tried to stop the flow of thoughts running through her brain, but all she could do was stare at the man who had much more of an influence on her than they both knew. The looks they gave each other spoke volumes. We're talking War and Peace sized volumes here. Unfortunately, these volumes were written in Sanskrit. Tough luck. Sam blinked several times after he broke eye contact and looked at the clock, figuring she'd better leave before people started coming in or she and Jack did something they'd regret.
Jack looked back to her and watched as she took the report from the printer, signed it, and carefully slipped it into a manila envelope. She filed the other two copies away, where she would retrieve them once she returned.
"When do you want to come back?" Jack crossed his arms, watching her carefully pull her coat over her injured arm.
"Isn't that your decision?" she asked.
"Three days good?" He said, not really sure of what to do.
"It's your call, you're the boss," she said with a little bit of a sting. She picked up her coffee, grasping it tightly in her left hand.
"Last time I checked yes, I was," he said while she handed him the folder. "Thanks for turning this in, I appreciate it."
"No problem. Next time, I will call you as something is happening, just so you will be up to date on everything. Wouldn't want to leave you in the dark or anything like that," she said with a hint of a smile and turned to leave.
Jack smirked at her, happy to know the Sam he knew hadn't completely left him. "Wonderful. Glad to know you care. Get out of here. I don't want to see you in this office until Friday," he called out to her retreating form. "Hey Sam?" she stopped and turned around. "You okay? Getting home and everything?"
She nodded and offered the best smile she could and turned back towards the exit. He watched her walk down the hallway, her shoulders drew together almost immediately, with her head focused on the ground. She started turning left and looked back one more time, giving him an unreadable expression. Jack's first urge was to follow her, make sure she got home all right, but he knew she wouldn't let him. His phone rang at that moment anyway. It was Vivian saying she had a flat tire and would be a little late to work.
Sam boarded the subway, forging through the legions of people going the opposite direction. She sat near a window and stared out at nothing, except a grimy wall, and thousands of faces. Seven stops later and one train switch, Sam was anywhere but where she needed to be - home.
She nuzzled her jacket tighter around her as she walked through the park, happy that despite everything, the sun still shone. She walked to her favorite bench and sat down carefully. It was right in front of the pond under a tree of which she'd never learned the name. The leaves would be budding soon and the grass would become green and fresh again. She only hoped that the next time she came here, she wouldn't be guilty, perturbed or disturbed. Maybe she would come to this bench and have a book with her or someone to sit and chat with. Perhaps sit and discuss relationships or family with a friend. Friends. She had those, she never saw them though. Maybe she would go out tonight. Or maybe she would just stay inside her warm apartment, waiting for the world to move on without her.
Being significantly insignificant had always been a goal of hers. Maybe this was her chance to breakout and get what she really wanted. Was she a ladder climber? No, but she wanted a more - important role in that office, or at least in the bureau. She thought - no she knew - she could make a difference, but she realized she needed more experience before she ever tried anything. Last night taught her that. Last night taught her a good many things, all of which were swirling around in her brain, forming half finished, incoherent thoughts.
She frowned as the pain began to surge back through her body again, coming in waves that radiated outward. It was time to go home and not think. Just be. Sam downed the last of her coffee and rose from the bench, walking towards a trash can and headed towards the nearest subway stop. She got on and sat down next to the window again, looking out at nothing but grimy walls and thousands of people. She got off at her stop and checked her watch. It was 10:30. She wondered how long she'd sat at the park. She'd left work by 6:45, yet she had no idea where the time had gone.
Sam shrugged her shoulders in contemplation as she stopped in the small grocery store near her apartment. She picked up a pack of peas, for her eye, and stopped by the ice cream freezer. Her two best friends, Ben and Jerry, were waiting for her patiently. She slowly opened the frosted door and chose a pint of Phish food, holding the lid tightly so she wouldn't have to clutch the chilled container. She approached the register where Charley, the kind man who owned the store, was reading the New York Times. Glancing at the front page, she frowned at the state of the world. Was there never a day when good news could be reported? She paid for the food, offering Charley a slight smile and walked slowly to her apartment building. And as exhausted as she was, she still didn't want to go home and be alone.
Sam inserted the key into the door of the building and pushed it open with her uninjured arm. The stairs creaked beneath her feet as she rounded the corner of the landing and ascended to another floor. At the third floor, Sam began looking for her apartment keys in her purse. She always had different keys on different chains just in case something happened. Always be prepared, a credo that had been imprinted in her mind during training. She liked training, it was good for her. The competition with boys with guns and the rush she got before graduation when she had to do a 180 in a van driving 60 mph. She liked that; it was a good time in her life. Of course, being a hotshot was never what it's cracked up to once she got into the real world.
After shuffling through her purse, slightly distracted by her reminiscent thoughts, only to find her keys in the outside pocket, she rounded another corner and proceeded down the hallway. Her head bent, hands in her pockets, and bag knocking against her leg with each step on the carpeted floor. She glanced down the hallway at her door and froze in her tracks.
Jack heard her rounding the corner, a bag or something kept bouncing against her leg alarming him of someone approaching. He quickly stood, waiting for her to look up. When she did, she planted herself to the floor, completely surprised by his being there. He made no move forward, just kept his eyes locked on hers.
She stood there for what could have possibly been three minutes, just staring at him, her face expressionless, her eyes however, betrayed everything. Everything they wanted to say, but could not be said, was expressed in those minutes, just with a look. The kind of look that turned her heart into putty and made his brow dot with beads of sweat.
Sam's brain finally made contact with her legs and she began walking slowly towards him. Her eyes welled up with tears and began running freely down her face. She kept her hands in her pockets the whole time, making no attempts to brush away the tears streaking her cheeks. She stopped in front of Jack, her eyes, or eye for the matter, still returned his steadfast gaze. Mere feet apart, and all they could do was stand on the border of uncertainty. Sam broke eye contact, jumping back to reality, resisting all thoughts that had once again flooded her brain. She sniffed a couple times, shrugged her shoulders and threw caution to the wind. Jack smiled shyly at her, knowing it was hard for her to be like this in front of him. Her chin was doing the quiver thing. Just cry and get it out. You'll only feel better once your tear ducts have dried up anyway. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at this woman. He found her amazing in so many different ways, and her beauty alone was enough to overwhelm his senses. He wanted her to want him. He wanted her to need him. Oh no. A song was creeping into his head. NO THINKING.
Sam took another step forward over that imaginary stripe and leaned into Jack, burying her head into his shoulder. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, constructing a protective barrier around them from the rest of the world. His cheek rested against her head while she stood there, not completely giving in to him, keeping her hands in her pockets with the last shred of strength she had.
She didn't want to be weak. Didn't want to break down and cry. Didn't want to need a shoulder to cry on. But she did, and the last thing she wanted was for the shoulder to be that of a married man's. How was she supposed to know that the man who embraced her so tightly spent most of the previous day trying to sign his divorce papers the previous evening, at an open house no less. How was she supposed to know he sat for two hours outside her door, waiting for her to come home. She didn't know. She didn't know much of anything at that moment, not how she felt about him or why he was even there. The only thing she knew was that it felt good, felt right.
Jack kept his eyes closed, breathing in the distinct scent that was only Sam's. Completely indescribable, completely hers. He remembered when she borrowed his jacket once and it smelt like her for hours after she returned it to him. It was then that he realized that he liked that scent more than he should have. More than a boss should like an employee, more than a married man should like a friend. Jack took in a deep breath and sighed. He had done a good many things that were wrong, that he shouldn't have. But this time, this felt right. This felt good.
Another wave of pain came, her tears increased and Sam lost all that she had left. Sam dropped her plastic bag and her purse to the floor and pushed her arms between him and his jacket, wrapping them tightly around his dress shirt the way she used to. She melted into him completely and all he did was stand there, his powerful arms encircling her.
"I will always be here for you," he whispered into her ear, his warm breath tickling her neck.
"Don't make promises you can't keep Jack," she said, her voice scratchy and muffled by his jacket. He stood there, contemplating whether he should tell her or not. He quickly decided not to, not at least until it had been three months.
He pulled away, lifting her chin to so he could look her in the eyes. His thumbs lightly brushed the tears off her face.
"I went to open house didn't I?" he paused grinning slightly. She knew going to any school-related event was no easy task for him. She cracked a smile that quickly turned to a frown and broke eye contact, remembering once again that he was not hers. She did not like being a mistress, a cohort in adultery. She wanted to back away, grab her ice cream, run into her apartment and curl up on her couch, surrounded by her forty-foot steel walls, where no one, not even Jack could reach her.
He held her firmly, knowing good and well that she was afraid and she didn't know what to do with herself. He didn't like what he had done at all, but he had reconciled the past and his family and was moving on, he still had his girls, and his wife was polite with him, knowing their marriage wouldn't have weathered another year no matter what had happened.
Jack watched her tears continue down her cheek, falling and getting absorbed by her jacket. He didn't know what he wanted, he didn't know how he felt. He did know that he would rather be here, with her, more than anything else.
He repeated himself one more time, a little bit quieter, but more strong and assured. "I will always be here for you," he said.
She stopped struggling, partly from fatigue and partly because she didn't really want him to let her go. She looked back up at him, knowing he meant it, and pushing her conscience aside, she fell back into his embrace. She took a deep breath and sighed, enjoying the feel of him wrapped around her once again, like he used to. But this time it was different. Maybe it felt a little more innocent, a little less rushed and secretive. All that was built up inside of her was released at that moment, and the many more that followed. Jack stroked her blond hair slowly, keeping his arms locked tightly around her.
After seemingly soaking Jack's shoulder, Sam turned her head inward towards his neck and felt a cold metal object brush against her skin. She looked inside Jack's shirt pocket and saw two silver spoons.
"For the ice cream?" she asked, pulling them out carefully. He knew her way too well. "Of course," he said with complete assurance. He'd dug around the office searching for those blasted spoons for almost ten minutes.
Sam smiled at him and pulled away, bending down to pick up her bag. She pulled out the ice cream and sat the bag down. She then leaned against the wall and slid down carefully, discovering new bruises along the way. Jack followed suit and crossed his legs once he'd reached the ground, sitting close beside her, leaning into her slightly. He handed her a spoon and watched as she opened the lid, revealing vanilla ice cream swirled with caramel and full of chocolate fish. Sam took a bite and passed it to Jack. Exactly what she needed, she smiled in utter satisfaction as the ice cream slid down her throat.
She looked over at the man beside her and smiled again. Jack brought his forty-one foot ladder all right. He had is ladder and he even brought a rope to climb inside her steel fortress. That Jack Malone was a smart man. He was all about the job too, but he had learned to somehow keep a little room left for his heart. Just a little.
They sat there for two hours, enjoying their ice cream, talking about cases, the things they hated about work and how Martin always hit on her. Passing time away and simply enjoying each others presence was all they needed, no more, no less.
As a yawn crept its way up her throat, she realized sleep was quickly approaching with or without her consent. Jack bid her farewell like a gentleman, assuring her he would return with news the following day as to what was going on, and perhaps another.
Sam waved goodbye to Jack and closed the door slowly smiling as he walked down the hallway. She was indeed a woman who had emotions and feelings. She was a human who was allowed to just feel about a case and she was learning to be fine with that. Did she feel sorry for shooting that man? Almost. Would she do it again? Probably not, at least not under those circumstances, because she would never place herself in that situation again.
Did she have any idea where she stood with her boss, the man with whom she related to better than anyone, who evoked so many feelings from her? Of course not. She was going to sit back and let whatever was going to happen, happen.
Sam trudged over to her overstuffed couch, pulled off her heels and covered herself with a thick blanket. Sighing loudly, she knew the months ahead were going to be difficult, and that sigh served simply to let out all the bad and let in the good, or to make room for the good. She closed her eyes and smiled once more because she'd had her hug, her ice cream, and now all she needed was rest and relaxation.
"Ahhh. Frohike. That's his name," she stated before sleep took her. She declared her goal the next week was to get to know that unusual man. Being the office hottie was hard work indeed.
The infedels live on, part IV.
In their general vicinity, there was only one person who had already come in and begun working and he enjoyed the glow of his computer screen more than daylight and human contact, hence the reason for his early arrival. Sam frowned upon her inability to recall his name. It was something like Byers or Langley, no that wasn't it. He had a thing about helping those people who believed in aliens. Hey whatever floats your boat.
Her wandering mind was brought back to reality when she felt herself responding, "Yes, I'm sure. I'll be fine Jack. Nothing a good nap won't cure." What? Where'd that come from? She really did need a nap. When was the last time she'd slept? Depending on one's definition of sleep, not for a good month or two. As far as closing her eyes for a standard amount of time, that being around five and a-half-hours, she was doing that regularly. Up until about what? 60 hours ago? She put her hand up to her temple again. Too much thinking.
Sam decided to physically distract herself from her thoughts and got the document to start printing. She began fiddling with the mouse, pushing it around the mouse pad out of lack of control and nervousness. Aware that Jack's eyes followed her colorful knuckles, which drastically contrasted with her light skin, she removed her hand and placed it in her lap. Jack returned his eyes to his feet, his arms crossed.
Jack's head was spinning, much in the same fashion as Sam's. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to do ten things at once, all of which would be frowned upon. Jack rubbed his face with his hands, a last ditch effort to wake him from this crazy dream. It didn't work though, Sam still sat in front of him, passive, distant, dazed, pick your synonym. Either way, she was gone. All that was left was that blasted wall again. Almost a shell of where she used to be.
Remembering that he hadn't completely looked at her yet, he returned his gaze to her to see if anything was amiss. As far as he could see, the right side of her body was fine. Without even thinking, Jack brought his hand up to her chin and turned her face towards him. Sam flinched with the contact of his skin upon hers and the pain it sent radiating throughout her face. A rush of heat and emotions flooded her senses causing her to gasp. He hadn't touched her face in a long time. She immediately pushed his hand away, never looking him in the eyes.
Without saying anything, Jack stood up and walked away, confused and bothered. Sam sat there, stunned and pained at the same time. With another deep breath and a loud sigh, she closed her eyes instead of looking for where walked off to. She relaxed in her chair, placed her fingers on her temples and lightly massaged them, hoping her grazed arm would stop making that pulsating feeling every time she moved it or flexed.
Jack stood at the coffeepot, angry because he hadn't been there, angry because she was in so much pain, and angry because she had fortified this barrier between them. He remembered the first time he'd met her. Rumor had it was that she was a sharp shooter who had turned down a high-level job after critically injuring her partner with a stray bullet. He never asked why she chose the Missing Persons Unit as her post, but he never asked that of anyone. They were there to do their job and that's all that mattered. He laughed because at the time when she arrived, he thought she was just a kid, barely out of training, trying to act tough. She had him fooled for a long while, never breaking down, not even after she shot someone again out of self-defense. He never knew that she went home and cried for hours, or that she vomited whatever she ate for two days afterward.
Not until a little over a year ago did she actually show any emotion when dealing with a case. The stress began to take its toll on her after a series of cases that led to dead ends, deaths or unresolved cases, and Sam was a step away from having a nervous breakdown. He'd started watching her carefully then, waiting for her to crack and let it all out. She finally did, when they both went to Montana to pick up a child who turned out to be incorrectly identified and was the wrong child. That broke the last straw all right. And when it rains, it pours for Samantha Spade. When all was said and done, Jack had been introduced to some ice cream and learned the real history of Special Agent Spade. After that trip she became a different person, more lively, expressive, confident.
He felt like he was seeing the old Sam, the one who was bothered by nothing, protected from everything, unwilling to show her feelings. Jack didn't know whether he was to blame or if she was experiencing momentary technical difficulties. All he knew was that this façade, her automatic shutdown reflex, needed to disappear from her system. He wanted to touch her again without her recoiling, wanted to talk with her and look her straight in the eyes and have her return the sentiment.
He filled up the cup, black - she liked it strong, and headed back towards her desk. "Thanks," she forced out as he placed the cup on her left side next to her keyboard, leaning against the desk with his head cocked to the side so he could fully see her face. She turned away and started to back her chair away, but he kept it in place with his feet. Sam looked down at her hands, bringing one up to quickly brush the hair that fell into her face. Knowing defeat well, she knew when to surrender. She sighed and closed her eyes as tightly as possible, then looked up at Jack, straight in the eyes with her forty-foot wall erected and firm.
There were butterfly bandages covering a cut on her left cheekbone, which was now swollen, puffy and an unusual shade of green. Her face betrayed no emotion, as though she were a mime forbidden to show any feeling. He'd seen this face before, but never directed at him and it made him uneasy. What happened to the woman who laughed at the way he walked, or gave him a slight raise of an eyebrow when he entered the room? This couldn't be her. This woman in front of him was completely detached, no emotion, no feeling. He knew enough at this point when a woman didn't want to be around him. Jack broke their steadfast gaze and turned towards the sound of doors opening and one or two people arriving.
Sam sat there expressionless, looking at Jack, but staring right through him. She wanted to completely cut off her emotions until she was in the safety of her own home, where she wouldn't get hurt.
Cutting off her emotions. Was that not her goal? She was a woman in man's job was she not? She had been bested in every way imaginable, and was reeling from its effects and the consequences. She had to be ten times more strong, more intelligent, more assured than the next man, and all she really wanted was a hug and some ice cream.
Sam tried to stop the flow of thoughts running through her brain, but all she could do was stare at the man who had much more of an influence on her than they both knew. The looks they gave each other spoke volumes. We're talking War and Peace sized volumes here. Unfortunately, these volumes were written in Sanskrit. Tough luck. Sam blinked several times after he broke eye contact and looked at the clock, figuring she'd better leave before people started coming in or she and Jack did something they'd regret.
Jack looked back to her and watched as she took the report from the printer, signed it, and carefully slipped it into a manila envelope. She filed the other two copies away, where she would retrieve them once she returned.
"When do you want to come back?" Jack crossed his arms, watching her carefully pull her coat over her injured arm.
"Isn't that your decision?" she asked.
"Three days good?" He said, not really sure of what to do.
"It's your call, you're the boss," she said with a little bit of a sting. She picked up her coffee, grasping it tightly in her left hand.
"Last time I checked yes, I was," he said while she handed him the folder. "Thanks for turning this in, I appreciate it."
"No problem. Next time, I will call you as something is happening, just so you will be up to date on everything. Wouldn't want to leave you in the dark or anything like that," she said with a hint of a smile and turned to leave.
Jack smirked at her, happy to know the Sam he knew hadn't completely left him. "Wonderful. Glad to know you care. Get out of here. I don't want to see you in this office until Friday," he called out to her retreating form. "Hey Sam?" she stopped and turned around. "You okay? Getting home and everything?"
She nodded and offered the best smile she could and turned back towards the exit. He watched her walk down the hallway, her shoulders drew together almost immediately, with her head focused on the ground. She started turning left and looked back one more time, giving him an unreadable expression. Jack's first urge was to follow her, make sure she got home all right, but he knew she wouldn't let him. His phone rang at that moment anyway. It was Vivian saying she had a flat tire and would be a little late to work.
Sam boarded the subway, forging through the legions of people going the opposite direction. She sat near a window and stared out at nothing, except a grimy wall, and thousands of faces. Seven stops later and one train switch, Sam was anywhere but where she needed to be - home.
She nuzzled her jacket tighter around her as she walked through the park, happy that despite everything, the sun still shone. She walked to her favorite bench and sat down carefully. It was right in front of the pond under a tree of which she'd never learned the name. The leaves would be budding soon and the grass would become green and fresh again. She only hoped that the next time she came here, she wouldn't be guilty, perturbed or disturbed. Maybe she would come to this bench and have a book with her or someone to sit and chat with. Perhaps sit and discuss relationships or family with a friend. Friends. She had those, she never saw them though. Maybe she would go out tonight. Or maybe she would just stay inside her warm apartment, waiting for the world to move on without her.
Being significantly insignificant had always been a goal of hers. Maybe this was her chance to breakout and get what she really wanted. Was she a ladder climber? No, but she wanted a more - important role in that office, or at least in the bureau. She thought - no she knew - she could make a difference, but she realized she needed more experience before she ever tried anything. Last night taught her that. Last night taught her a good many things, all of which were swirling around in her brain, forming half finished, incoherent thoughts.
She frowned as the pain began to surge back through her body again, coming in waves that radiated outward. It was time to go home and not think. Just be. Sam downed the last of her coffee and rose from the bench, walking towards a trash can and headed towards the nearest subway stop. She got on and sat down next to the window again, looking out at nothing but grimy walls and thousands of people. She got off at her stop and checked her watch. It was 10:30. She wondered how long she'd sat at the park. She'd left work by 6:45, yet she had no idea where the time had gone.
Sam shrugged her shoulders in contemplation as she stopped in the small grocery store near her apartment. She picked up a pack of peas, for her eye, and stopped by the ice cream freezer. Her two best friends, Ben and Jerry, were waiting for her patiently. She slowly opened the frosted door and chose a pint of Phish food, holding the lid tightly so she wouldn't have to clutch the chilled container. She approached the register where Charley, the kind man who owned the store, was reading the New York Times. Glancing at the front page, she frowned at the state of the world. Was there never a day when good news could be reported? She paid for the food, offering Charley a slight smile and walked slowly to her apartment building. And as exhausted as she was, she still didn't want to go home and be alone.
Sam inserted the key into the door of the building and pushed it open with her uninjured arm. The stairs creaked beneath her feet as she rounded the corner of the landing and ascended to another floor. At the third floor, Sam began looking for her apartment keys in her purse. She always had different keys on different chains just in case something happened. Always be prepared, a credo that had been imprinted in her mind during training. She liked training, it was good for her. The competition with boys with guns and the rush she got before graduation when she had to do a 180 in a van driving 60 mph. She liked that; it was a good time in her life. Of course, being a hotshot was never what it's cracked up to once she got into the real world.
After shuffling through her purse, slightly distracted by her reminiscent thoughts, only to find her keys in the outside pocket, she rounded another corner and proceeded down the hallway. Her head bent, hands in her pockets, and bag knocking against her leg with each step on the carpeted floor. She glanced down the hallway at her door and froze in her tracks.
Jack heard her rounding the corner, a bag or something kept bouncing against her leg alarming him of someone approaching. He quickly stood, waiting for her to look up. When she did, she planted herself to the floor, completely surprised by his being there. He made no move forward, just kept his eyes locked on hers.
She stood there for what could have possibly been three minutes, just staring at him, her face expressionless, her eyes however, betrayed everything. Everything they wanted to say, but could not be said, was expressed in those minutes, just with a look. The kind of look that turned her heart into putty and made his brow dot with beads of sweat.
Sam's brain finally made contact with her legs and she began walking slowly towards him. Her eyes welled up with tears and began running freely down her face. She kept her hands in her pockets the whole time, making no attempts to brush away the tears streaking her cheeks. She stopped in front of Jack, her eyes, or eye for the matter, still returned his steadfast gaze. Mere feet apart, and all they could do was stand on the border of uncertainty. Sam broke eye contact, jumping back to reality, resisting all thoughts that had once again flooded her brain. She sniffed a couple times, shrugged her shoulders and threw caution to the wind. Jack smiled shyly at her, knowing it was hard for her to be like this in front of him. Her chin was doing the quiver thing. Just cry and get it out. You'll only feel better once your tear ducts have dried up anyway. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at this woman. He found her amazing in so many different ways, and her beauty alone was enough to overwhelm his senses. He wanted her to want him. He wanted her to need him. Oh no. A song was creeping into his head. NO THINKING.
Sam took another step forward over that imaginary stripe and leaned into Jack, burying her head into his shoulder. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, constructing a protective barrier around them from the rest of the world. His cheek rested against her head while she stood there, not completely giving in to him, keeping her hands in her pockets with the last shred of strength she had.
She didn't want to be weak. Didn't want to break down and cry. Didn't want to need a shoulder to cry on. But she did, and the last thing she wanted was for the shoulder to be that of a married man's. How was she supposed to know that the man who embraced her so tightly spent most of the previous day trying to sign his divorce papers the previous evening, at an open house no less. How was she supposed to know he sat for two hours outside her door, waiting for her to come home. She didn't know. She didn't know much of anything at that moment, not how she felt about him or why he was even there. The only thing she knew was that it felt good, felt right.
Jack kept his eyes closed, breathing in the distinct scent that was only Sam's. Completely indescribable, completely hers. He remembered when she borrowed his jacket once and it smelt like her for hours after she returned it to him. It was then that he realized that he liked that scent more than he should have. More than a boss should like an employee, more than a married man should like a friend. Jack took in a deep breath and sighed. He had done a good many things that were wrong, that he shouldn't have. But this time, this felt right. This felt good.
Another wave of pain came, her tears increased and Sam lost all that she had left. Sam dropped her plastic bag and her purse to the floor and pushed her arms between him and his jacket, wrapping them tightly around his dress shirt the way she used to. She melted into him completely and all he did was stand there, his powerful arms encircling her.
"I will always be here for you," he whispered into her ear, his warm breath tickling her neck.
"Don't make promises you can't keep Jack," she said, her voice scratchy and muffled by his jacket. He stood there, contemplating whether he should tell her or not. He quickly decided not to, not at least until it had been three months.
He pulled away, lifting her chin to so he could look her in the eyes. His thumbs lightly brushed the tears off her face.
"I went to open house didn't I?" he paused grinning slightly. She knew going to any school-related event was no easy task for him. She cracked a smile that quickly turned to a frown and broke eye contact, remembering once again that he was not hers. She did not like being a mistress, a cohort in adultery. She wanted to back away, grab her ice cream, run into her apartment and curl up on her couch, surrounded by her forty-foot steel walls, where no one, not even Jack could reach her.
He held her firmly, knowing good and well that she was afraid and she didn't know what to do with herself. He didn't like what he had done at all, but he had reconciled the past and his family and was moving on, he still had his girls, and his wife was polite with him, knowing their marriage wouldn't have weathered another year no matter what had happened.
Jack watched her tears continue down her cheek, falling and getting absorbed by her jacket. He didn't know what he wanted, he didn't know how he felt. He did know that he would rather be here, with her, more than anything else.
He repeated himself one more time, a little bit quieter, but more strong and assured. "I will always be here for you," he said.
She stopped struggling, partly from fatigue and partly because she didn't really want him to let her go. She looked back up at him, knowing he meant it, and pushing her conscience aside, she fell back into his embrace. She took a deep breath and sighed, enjoying the feel of him wrapped around her once again, like he used to. But this time it was different. Maybe it felt a little more innocent, a little less rushed and secretive. All that was built up inside of her was released at that moment, and the many more that followed. Jack stroked her blond hair slowly, keeping his arms locked tightly around her.
After seemingly soaking Jack's shoulder, Sam turned her head inward towards his neck and felt a cold metal object brush against her skin. She looked inside Jack's shirt pocket and saw two silver spoons.
"For the ice cream?" she asked, pulling them out carefully. He knew her way too well. "Of course," he said with complete assurance. He'd dug around the office searching for those blasted spoons for almost ten minutes.
Sam smiled at him and pulled away, bending down to pick up her bag. She pulled out the ice cream and sat the bag down. She then leaned against the wall and slid down carefully, discovering new bruises along the way. Jack followed suit and crossed his legs once he'd reached the ground, sitting close beside her, leaning into her slightly. He handed her a spoon and watched as she opened the lid, revealing vanilla ice cream swirled with caramel and full of chocolate fish. Sam took a bite and passed it to Jack. Exactly what she needed, she smiled in utter satisfaction as the ice cream slid down her throat.
She looked over at the man beside her and smiled again. Jack brought his forty-one foot ladder all right. He had is ladder and he even brought a rope to climb inside her steel fortress. That Jack Malone was a smart man. He was all about the job too, but he had learned to somehow keep a little room left for his heart. Just a little.
They sat there for two hours, enjoying their ice cream, talking about cases, the things they hated about work and how Martin always hit on her. Passing time away and simply enjoying each others presence was all they needed, no more, no less.
As a yawn crept its way up her throat, she realized sleep was quickly approaching with or without her consent. Jack bid her farewell like a gentleman, assuring her he would return with news the following day as to what was going on, and perhaps another.
Sam waved goodbye to Jack and closed the door slowly smiling as he walked down the hallway. She was indeed a woman who had emotions and feelings. She was a human who was allowed to just feel about a case and she was learning to be fine with that. Did she feel sorry for shooting that man? Almost. Would she do it again? Probably not, at least not under those circumstances, because she would never place herself in that situation again.
Did she have any idea where she stood with her boss, the man with whom she related to better than anyone, who evoked so many feelings from her? Of course not. She was going to sit back and let whatever was going to happen, happen.
Sam trudged over to her overstuffed couch, pulled off her heels and covered herself with a thick blanket. Sighing loudly, she knew the months ahead were going to be difficult, and that sigh served simply to let out all the bad and let in the good, or to make room for the good. She closed her eyes and smiled once more because she'd had her hug, her ice cream, and now all she needed was rest and relaxation.
"Ahhh. Frohike. That's his name," she stated before sleep took her. She declared her goal the next week was to get to know that unusual man. Being the office hottie was hard work indeed.