A/N Sorry I haven't updated for a while, RL got in the way, and it's been a
rather hectic week. I want to say thanks to all who reviewed, read and
enjoyed (shout out to Maple St.ers!). I hope this last installment lives up
to your expectations and if not, well thanks for reading any way.
~~~~~
Martin rubbed his eyes, trying to blink away the haze that accompanied the need for sleep. His head hurt, his feet hurt, and he wanted to get out of that awful tie. He glanced over at Vivian as she started to shuffle around. He checked his watch. 11:45. It was time to go home.
"Hey Viv, give me the rundown one more time of what we got in there," said Martin scanning his notes.
She looked over at him and smirked, she always took better notes.
"Hodges was an investigator that lived here and in Quantico about five years ago. He also went to Melburne and was a student under Dr. Raymond. Very few relationships, studying to get his doctorate-"
"Yeah I got all of that, what about the C4? Why don't you think he told us where he got it from?"
"He said he was in the military, but I didn't think to ask him more than that."
"Didn't he mention something about Dr. Raymond having some sort of cancer, hence the reason for his frequent trips to Albany?"
"That's right, I almost forgot about that. Dr. Raymond has colon cancer. He was going up to Albany for some kind of radical treatment up there but the treatment stopped working. According to Hodges, Dr. Raymond has about three months left in him."
"Did you tell Jack? Because I don't think he knows about that," Martin said as he looked over the very end of his notes.
"Jack knows, don't worry," she glanced over everything one more time then looked up at Martin. "So basically, Hodges said he can be linked to almost everything Dr. Raymond has done over the past eight years."
"Well, he was an investigator, he most likely did whatever Raymond himself could not. I guess that's how that picture room got filled," he sighed thinking about what Danny told him about the apartment. Like once Sam came in the small room, the expression on her face when she realized the wall was completely of her, it was one of the most mortifying things he'd ever experienced.
"Don't remind me. I guess Hodges took the pictures and Raymond assembled them all," Vivian sat back in her chair, turning thoughts over in her brain. "I wonder what it was in the first place that brought them together. What is it that would bind two very different men to do these things?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Martin asked.
Vivian followed his eyes towards Jack's office. She shook her head incredulously.
"No. No way. She's had problems with men in the past, but never like this. I don't think so," she turned back to her report, pressing print for the third time in the last ten minutes.
"I'm just saying, she went to Melburne, she has a wall in the man's house and she obviously lied about not knowing Hodges. There has to be some kind of history there,
Martin toyed with the thought for a moment more, choosing not to continue.
Vivian disregarded his comments. They would all know the truth on Monday, once everything had been worked out. But as the minutes wore on, she began to understand the motives behind Raymond and Hodges, that Martin was probably right in his reasoning. At least at this late hour Martin was making sense out of all this madness. And madness is exactly what it was.
"Sam finished everything up at NYU right?" asked Martin, tapping the side of his head with the file.
"Yes, NYU was where she transferred to after Melburne."
"You don't think-" Martin began, too unsure to finish his sentence.
"We'll know soon enough won't we? Monday will be here soon enough. Hey, I'm heading out, it's quittin' time," she bent down and shoved some files that she'd never read into her briefcase.
"You coming?" she asked as she slid into her jacket.
Martin was looking in the direction of Jack's office, turning some thoughts over in his head. He was way too tired to try to figure this all out tonight, but he wanted to know what was going on.
"Nah, I think I'll finish up here then head off," he paused, glancing down at his nearly completed report.
"Well, see you tomorrow then," she gave him a sly look and began walking away. She stopped and turned around, resting her arm on his desk. "She's not coming out anytime soon Martin. And even if she did, she wouldn't tell you squat."
He avoided looking up at her and cocked his head to the side, searching for a sufficient reply.
"I know that. I was just waiting for Danny. He said he had to run up to the fourteenth floor," said Martin, a light red blush creeping over his features.
"Right. Good night Martin," she turned away, shaking her head. That boy was something else all right.
Martin watched Vivian walk slowly away, fatigue evident in her walk. He leaned back in his chair, stretched out and then settled back down.
Vivian hazarded a glance into Jack's office as she walked by. The young blond was sitting, leaning far back really, in Jack's chair. She couldn't tell if her eyes were closed or if she were staring at the ceiling, lost in that mess of thoughts crowding her head. She wanted to go in there, tell her it was going to be all right, and hug the poor child.
Everything in her being told her that it would be okay, that it didn't matter that they worked for the government - they had feelings and emotions too. Badges, Ids, black sunglasses, those only got them so far. They never teach a class at the Academy as to how to recover when your biggest secret gets blown up in your face for all the world to see.
Instead of stopping and helping her colleague, her feet carried her steadily onwards, towards the path of least resistance. She pushed the 'down' button and waited for the ever so slow elevator to work its way down to her floor. The large doors slid open, revealing Danny.
He looked like he'd been dragged to Hell and back and he'd returned too soon. He offered a slight smile and a nod, acknowledging with his eyes the brevity of the situation. Danny made a small, 'after you', motion with his hands as she walked on to the elevator. She kept her eyes on his beleaguered form as the doors gradually came to a close.
Somehow, maybe it was a woman's intuition, maybe it was just her, but as she stood there, Vivian knew exactly what happened. She didn't need to wait nine hours to hear it from Jack or Danny on the phone the next morning. She knew Sam wouldn't be there Monday. Vivian waited while the doors opened to let in a haggard accountant, the kind that ruin pens and pencils by chewing on them. Her mind drifted back to the woman upstairs.
She never knew how to define her relationship with Samantha. In all aspects, they were completely different women, brought up in completely different ways. She had a family to care for; Sam could go out after work and get drinks with the boys. There was a large enough difference in age that only neutral topics could be the foreground if they ever had a conversation. Of course, looking back now at all the times she and Sam had been on trips together, been in the car with an endless expanse of road before them, shared truly difficult situations with families - she'd never known what to do.
Of course, she wasn't supposed to make friends at work. No, that wasn't what it was for. She was there to get the job done and do it well. Co- workers were there to help accomplish that goal. What happens when the job is your life? Even though she didn't know the details of what happened to Samantha, she had a pretty good idea. In cases like this, rarely was she ever wrong.
She'd always been the mediator - the calm one - when she was a child. She just wished that now, she could find a solution to this problem. She remembered wondering about Jack and Sam months ago. She knew they were having an affair. Should she have done something? Mentioned it to him? No. These people were her co-workers. She knew they were responsible enough to handle the situation on their own. If their relationship or whatever it was, got in the way of their work, then she would have said something.
But it didn't. And Jack wised up. They called it quits. Doesn't mean his family will magically come back together, but he was going to have to end it if he ever thought he could get out of this vicious cycle.
A muffled sound brought her out of her thoughts. She looked around and realized she was still on the elevator. She was elevator riding. A grown woman, elevator riding. Fancy that. Leaning out of the opened doors, she found herself on the sixth floor. She'd never been on the sixth floor in all the time she'd spent there. She recalled that it was an expansion of homicide, the eighth floor had grown crowded and with the influx of new agents, a new department appeared with it's own slice of the F.B.I. pound cake.
Why didn't home look appealing right now? Why did she want to stay here? She didn't want to leave, she wanted to hover nearby in case they needed her. She wanted to stay for the same reason Martin did. Like it or not, those agents were more than colleagues, they were her friends. She would sacrifice herself for anyone of them just as easily as she had for Jack Malone. Why? Because they'd proven themselves over and over again to be talented, skillful agents, dedicated to their work. They all had their faults, as did she, but working together made her have respect for these workaholics.
After looking around a bit, she walked back to the elevator, but instead of boarding, she sat on a bench opposite the doors. She liked the quiet actually. In a city like this, solitude and serenity were rarely ever gotten. Going home was an option, but being alone for a few minutes was more to her satisfaction.
He hated being alone. He really did. He watched Danny put the rest of the evidence in plastic bags, labeling and placing them in certain boxes. He wished he could be as carefree as Danny, just roll with the punches. Of course, Danny didn't have someone hovering over his shoulder, monitoring his every move.
"Hey, you okay?" Danny asked taking a glance at Martin.
"Ah, yeah. I'm just thinking. It's been a rough week you know?" said Martin, swiveling around in his chair.
"Harder on some more so than others, but yeah, it's been tough."
"Do you think everything is going to be all right? With all of this?"
"You know, I want to say yes and mean it, but I don't know," he turned around and leaned against the table, crossing his arms in normal fashion. "I was there and I don't know everything that's going on. I know that Raymond is a psychopathic killer. I know that Hodges helped orchestrate this whole nightmare and that he knew Sam, but that's all I got."
"Do you think Sam knew Raymond when she was at Melburne? What about Hodges?"
"Beats me, but from what I could tell he's a twisted man as well."
"I keep getting different things, I just can't organize it all. How am I supposed to turn in this report when half of the information might be wrong?" Martin sighed, shaking the papers in the air.
Danny got up and walked to Martin, shaking his head. He took the report, tore it in half and threw it in the trash.
"Hey!"
"Wait until the morning. I always do," said Danny as he placed the lids on the rest of the boxes and piled them one on top of the other.
"I've got to drop this stuff off downstairs before heading out, do you want to give me a hand?" asked Danny, placing his weight on one foot to balance the boxes.
Martin looked back towards Jack's office and sighed again, tomorrow was already here. He could wait until Monday to find out what really happened. He hated being in the dark though. It's not like anyone really knew what was going on, but still, it was his job. Investigating, finding clues, putting puzzles together. He liked being able to call it a day knowing where he stood on a case. Having a stance and being in the dark are two opposite ends of the spectrum.
He stood up slowly, slipped into his jacket and grabbed two boxes off of the table.
"Hey. You gave me the heavy boxes!" he said, realizing the weight within the cardboard boxes surpassed that of Danny's.
"No, you chose the boxes that were left," said Danny, marching onward. Martin's probably were heavier, but no one was holding a gun to his head.
Instead of walking past Jack's office like he should have, Danny stuck his head inside. Sam was still sitting at Jack's desk, her gaze fixed upward as her head rested on the back of the seat.
"Hey Sam?" nothing. He figured as much.
"I uh, I just wanted you to know that what you did today took a lot of guts and that I'm think you did a great job. No matter what happens, we're by your side," he offered as Martin hesitatingly poked his head inside.
She lifted her head off the seat and bent her head down; keeping her eyes closed the whole time. If they only knew. She opened her eyes, but couldn't bring them up to meet those of the two men standing before her
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. What could she say? What was appropriate, when she knew that come next Monday, they wouldn't want to know her. It's not like she'd done anything, but they would treat her differently. That was the last thing she wanted.
Forcing a small grin, she glanced in their direction saying in a scratchy voice, "Thanks."
"Later Sam, take care of that hand," said Danny, turning to walk away. She would be better in a few days. Always was.
Martin stood there a moment, trying to find the perfect words, but only coming across two that fit at this moment. He wanted to bang his head into the glass door in frustration. So much to say, so little to work with. He wanted to tell her that he knew about the affair. He wanted to tell her that no matter what happened today or last year, it would get better. He wanted to tell her that he liked her in black. There is a time for everything and every purpose under Heaven. This was not it.
He clenched his jaw and offered what he could, "Night Samantha."
"Martin this elevator waits for no one, not even the son of Assistant Director Fitzgerald," Danny yelled down the hallway.
Sam gave him a small wave of the hand, and let her head fall back once again as he walked away. She was sleepy. Exhausted. Mentally and physically wiped out. Her senses had pulled overtime and she knew she wouldn't be able to handle her next encounter with Jack. Viv was gone, the boys had left. It was time to go home.
She brought her head up once again and glanced at his clock. It was 12:19. Now she'd pulled all-niters before, but she'd never stayed so she could have the opportunity to divulge her locked away past to her boss. And he was her boss. He wasn't Jack, he wasn't her ex-lover, he was the man who held her future in her hands. Damn him.
She stood up abruptly and looked around. There were still people milling around, but none were near their side of the building. She glanced in the direction of the elevator and saw no one coming except for a large man with a hideous tie.
Her heeled shoes pelted the floor, each step hard and even. Maybe it was time for a change. She could always get another job. She could work at an all-women facility upstate, where it's cold and isolated. Men weren't at the top of her list as far as a relocation went.
She looked at her desk and figured she could grab what she needed and be out of there in five minutes. Her apartment was expendable, she'd only need a few items, and everything else was of little consequence. She bent under her desk searching for her bag. This decision was completely irrational, but it was the best plan she had.
Two men walked by the white board, laughing about a crude joke. Sam glanced in their direction, mystified by the opposite sex. Her eyes moved from them to the board. Melanie's picture was still on the board, framed in by male handwriting. The young woman who had a startling resemblance to her was still on the board. She wanted to go over and take the picture down like she'd done so many times before. The person was found now the world will be a happy place once again. The end.
No, it didn't work like that. Was Melanie really found? Or was her soul still dangling off that building, dozens of blocks away? Sam never really gave much thought to the families or the people once they'd been found. She'd always assumed that everything would pick right up again, nothing to come in the way of a lost person now found.
She realized for the first time that she would be apart of the healing process, going along every step of the way to ensure that Melanie would make it, and that the effects wouldn't be too life altering.
Sam walked around the table and hopped up on it, her bag and last chance to start a new life quickly forgotten. Her legs dangled back and forth, and she sat there staring at the board and picture that could have been taken from her own photo album. She knew that leaving would be the easy way out, that running away from her problems would be giving in, she refused to succumb to the urge. She knew in her heart that in some ways, she would be helping herself just as much as she'd be helping Melanie by working through the pain and suffering. It would be reliving the whole thing again, bringing out parts of herself that were better left locked away in that filing cabinet. At least she had what was in there. If they ever went to court, she'd be ready.
She took a deep breath, exhaling all the tension that had built up around her nerves. She felt so - raw, exposed, naked. A mirthless laugh escaped her, knowing that it would only get worse, that when she would walk down the hallway people would give her sympathetic looks. As if they knew what happened. Really understood. They couldn't begin to comprehend the mess that her life had become. In such a short time she'd gone from a hardworkin agent to risking her life, career and the well being of those around her. She picked up a highlighter that was lying on the table, twirling it around as the anger in her began to rise again.
It was bad enough that she'd been - sexually assaulted - but the psychological ramifications were the most difficult to deal with. Raymond knew how to get in the mind, take memories, mistakes, happiness and stretch it all apart, misconstruing it all and then shoving it back in at will. He was the most dangerous type of killer. He was so charming, so charismatic. His ease and ability to detect her thoughts was alarming, in that he was killing people without them knowing, without it being evident to anyone. Anything could trigger the bomb that he planted in the dozens of minds he'd played with.
It was all just a game. Child's play.
She looked up at the board and saw the eyes of an innocent girl peering back at hers. Those eyes knew only tears and pain now.
"Augh," she threw the highlighter at the board, not aiming at any one spot in particular, she just wanted to hit something.
"Hitting the board with a highlighter isn't going to help," said Jack calmly.
Sam jumped and turned to see Jack sitting in a chair on the other side of the table. Her thoughts must have drowned out the sound of him taking a seat right behind her. She tensed immediately. How long had he been there? It didn't matter. How much longer would she have to stay?
"What's going to happen to me?" she asked, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. She turned her head to the side, waiting for his response, but never turned around. She didn't want to face him. Not like this, even though she needed to.
"We'll get there, but I want to know some things before I can fully evaluate the situation," he said. Jack sat back in the chair and loosened his tie. He had no idea why he still had it on. Didn't matter.
Unaware of what his questions could entail, she hesitated before nodding in agreement.
"I do want to tell you first that I uh, I heard everything you said when you were on the building this afternoon," Jack said carefully, unsure of what her response would be.
Her head shot up, not cognizant that he already knew about her part of the story. She wanted to turn around and look at him, to show him that she didn't want anything from him, didn't want sympathy. She sat there for a moment, contemplating what to say. She didn't want to make this any more personal that it was at present. She was fine. Always was.
"Van Doran already knows though. She wouldn't assign me to this unit unless I agreed to her conditions," she said, already stating what Jack had just learned.
"Yeah I knew you had the therapy sessions with Dr. McCaffery, but I didn't have clearance for anything more than that."
She nodded, aware that he wasn't privy to such information. That sat in an awkward silence for a moment, both exhausted and drained.
"I have problems dealing with," she paused trying to find the appropriate word. None would suffice. "I have issues. Plain and simple."
"It's understandable, it really is. Don't worry Sam, you don't have to go any further right now. I just need to know a little bit more," his fingers toyed with a button in his shirt. He was nervous. For one of the first times in his life, he was nervous about asking someone a couple of personal questions. He wanted to tell her that it was okay, what happened to her, that her reaction to this whole ordeal was expected. Instead, he chose to keep it nice and clean for the time being.
He adjusted himself in his chair and cleared his throat, Sam turned her head once again to the ground before her.
"Why didn't you accept the Dubois Fellowship?"
A small laugh escaped her once again. The irony of it all made her a bit too contemptuous. She was growing increasingly bitter as the night drew on.
"Can't you see the headlines now, Jack? FELLOWSHIP WINNER INVOLVED IN SEX SCANDAL," she framed the imagined header in the air with her hands.
"What, would he have black mailed you? Why didn't you go to the hospital, get proof and take him to court?"
She placed her hands with their sore wrists firmly on the table and hopped off, already frustrated with this conversation.
"It's easier said than done. You met him, you know how he is. I wouldn't have been able to stand up against him. It was his word against mine. People were more likely to believe a valued and trusted member of their faculty than an ambitious student," she kept her arms crossed and paced back and forth, unable to stand still.
"I don't understand. Why couldn't you have brought it forth to Dr. Mackenzie or another member of the faculty, whom you trusted," said Jack, unable to get over his confusion.
"Because, I'm not like that, Jack! I didn't want half the world to know what happened to me two days after I got the award," she paused as her voice cracked at the end. She regained her composure and started again, barely above a whisper.
"He told me that if I did so much as mention a word to anyone, that he'd go to the faculty and media, proclaiming me a desperate liar. If I said anything, any hope that lingered of having a good career would have been demolished. He was going to destroy my life," she stopped, her frustration with herself overwhelming her. Reflecting on the past 24 hours, she shrugged her shoulders submissively, "he did destroy my life."
Jack didn't get up, didn't say a word. He sat quietly and watched her deal with the demons in her head before going further.
"Did you ever get any proof?"
"Yeah, I uh. I went back again. I was wearing a skirt and I had a recorder strapped between my legs. I have verbal affirmation and his threat to blackmail me. I just wanted it for protection though," she paused briefly, trying to find the strength to go on.
"There's a type of stigma that attaches itself to women who've been raped. I've seen it happen repeatedly. But it was ten years ago. The system didn't work the same way then as it does now and teachers had a little bit more credibility," she stopped and pulled out the chair on the side of the table next to Jack, taking a seat with little ease.
"Stupid ass, he almost tried it again when I went the second time," she shook her head, marveling at his conceit.
"What happened?"
"You know that limp he has?" he nodded.
"Well, I had my umbrella with me that day. He was out for a week, didn't say a thing to anyone. He touched me and my reflex involved the umbrella making contact with his knee," they laughed anxiously, alleviating the increasing tension that surrounded their conversation.
Sam's smile turned into a frown as she crossed her arms instinctively, her eyes shutting against the vision of his hand running up her leg.
Jack wanted to lean over and just offer her some sort of reassurance, but digressed in fear of her reaction to his touch. Women were not in want of male consolation in a time like this. He was lucky she was even talking to him. Trusting in others was not her forte.
He loosened his tie, struggling to get this whole 'questioning' done. It was mandatory procedure in such a high profile case as this, and especially when an agent is linked to the case.
"Clayton Hodges was in the military right? That's how he got the C4?"
His voice startled her out of her thoughts. Clayton Hodges was a disturbed man in every sense of the word. He deserved to die. He deserved to have Raymond kill him.
"Yes, he went to school with a scholarship from the Marines. He had to pay them back by being in the reserves for five years after school. In the summer he would leave for a month and go to countries like Iran, Bolivia, Ecuador. He was part of a demolition unit," she struck a palm to her head, angry that she didn't remember it earlier.
"What was your relationship with him in college?"
She frowned, wary of what she was saying.
"He was in love with me," she threw her hands up with returning frustration. All the signs were there. How could she have been so blind?
"And you didn't reciprocate these feelings I take it?"
She shook her head, the uncomfortable territory preventing her from speaking.
"You left right after your junior year was over, right?"
She nodded, he knew the rest of the story, where she finished up, where she earned her law degree.
"Did he ever contact you over that period of time?"
"At the very end of my senior year at NYU. He tracked me down. He was the one who came in the first time around after Dr. Raymond - you know - and he was led to believe by Dr. Raymond that we'd been in a relationship while I was at school. He wouldn't listen to me when I told him he was misinformed, but Dr. Raymond is a very persuasive man and I am just a manipulative slut."
"Don't say that. You are anything but that," he said, trying to keep her focused.
"You saw those pictures. You must think I sleep with a different man every night. Who knows. Maybe I do," she was getting angry. Being violated in such an intimate way only left her feeling absolute revulsion with the opposite sex.
"Sam, it doesn't matter what I think. But for the record, I don't."
"How do you know though? Were you there? What makes you think you weren't one more rung I had to climb to get to the top?" her self-deprecating manner was growing too intense.
"Because, I know you!" he matched her volume level then subsided. "Samantha, stop this. You are only going to regret it later."
She didn't hear his words, she could only dwell on her own thoughts and Raymond's words playing over and over in her head.
"I couldn't get the feeling of him off of me, I always felt dirty, like I shouldn't be around others. And after that first time a couple years later, I felt a little of him leave. It almost became an obsession with me, using sex to get him off of me. I was horrible to so many guys, and then one day, I just stopped. I couldn't justify my behavior in my mind, couldn't stand to look at myself in the mirror. The feeling never left though. Even now, I still," she couldn't continue, her voice once again overcome by the lump in her throat.
Jack remained silent, letting her confess was one of the best things she could do right now. His remaining open to her, accepting her without censure was all he could do on his part.
He took a long look at her, noting the changes in her expression and posture. Sadness always took a misshapen form on people.
"Sam, you are one of the most intelligent, empathetic people I know. Your ability to put yourself in someone else's shoes is unfathomable to me. Not once have I ever thought of you any less than a remarkable human being. Don't let him mess with your head like that," he said resolutely.
She blushed under his compliment, but really he was only stating the truth. He leaned forward on the table, trying to remember if there was anything else to ask before she could go home.
"You know," said Sam, her voice growing more hoarse with each word, "compassion, empathy, they only get you so far. Sometimes that's what defeats a person in the end. It overwhelms you to the point to where all you can focus on is what is right in front of you," she stopped, she was truly unable to go much further.
He watched as she braced her arm on the table, cupping her mouth with her hand. Her left hand remained on the table tracing circles around a small dent in the veneer. She kept her eyes glued to the corner of the file in front of him, unable to manage more than a blink.
"Are we done?" she muttered, bringing her hand far enough away so he could barely decipher her words.
He looked over everything, knowing it could wait until Monday, even Tuesday. They all needed a break. Sam especially. Martin would just have to wait until then to find out what was going on.
"Are we?" he asked in a tone that held many meanings. At his question her eyes went up to his, finally looking at him for the first time that night.
The air caught in Jack's throat as he saw the look in Sam's eyes. Fatigue etched her features and her eyes were on the brink of tears. But what got him was the shine that he saw when he looked at her so many times in the past. That shine, that spirit, was gone. In its place was an indescribable look of despair. She reminded him of a free horse who'd been captured and had runaway, only to be captured once again. Her spirit was broken. She was broken.
Without thinking, he reached over and grabbed her hand. It was a simple gesture really, but not appropriate for the time and situation.
She pulled her hand away immediately as if she'd just touched a flame.
"I can't - " the lump in her throat made it exceedingly difficult for her to speak. She stood up quickly and walked behind him to her desk. She was ashamed of herself, aware that she wasn't ready to face the world.
"I'm sorry," she whispered while he nodded looking straight ahead, his eyes gravitating to the picture in front of him.
She grabbed her bag and started to walk away, tears already starting to escape.
"Sam," said Jack, he turned his head towards her now, watching her turn slightly with her eyes fixed on the ground.
"I'm proud of you. Never do that again, but know that without you, Melanie would probably be dead right now. I thank you for that," his voice was low and coarse, betraying the emotions that were overcoming him.
"See you Monday," he uttered, the decision of her future was made. He had evaluated the situation and although she would receive some disapproval, in no way would she be dismissed.
She nodded her head in appreciation and walked to the elevator. She pushed the button with shaking hands, her nerves a mess. As she waited, her mind went back to the man sitting at the table, who was mentally kicking himself for his actions. She didn't know that he was clenching his eyelids together to keep the tears from running down his face. She didn't know that as she would be crawling into bed, he would be sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair interrogating Jonathan Raymond for two hours. No easy task when all he wanted to do was strangle the man with his bare hands. She didn't know that early that Saturday morning, he would be there to witness Clayton Hodges being rushed to the hospital because he'd broken down and tried to kill himself from the psychological effects of working with Jonathan Raymond. She didn't know that he wouldn't go home to his wife and children that night - that he would fall asleep in his two-day-old suit in his stuffy, cramped apartment.
As she boarded the elevator the only thought before her was Melanie. There was going to be a case to be sure, and everyone would find out what happened to her ten years ago, two days after she'd won her award. She knew that the certificate, notebook, cluster of papers, journal and tape were going to be her portion of defense in the case against Dr. Jonathan Raymond.
Breaking down in an elevator wasn't the best idea in the world, seeing as she still had another half-hour before she reached her house, but she couldn't make it any further. The elevator descended as the lone agent stood in the center, her hand cupping her mouth to the silence the gasps and cries that escaped her. The elevator unexpectedly halted on the sixth floor, causing her to choke in an attempt to quickly stop her crying.
As the elevator doors opened, the sight before her was a godsend.
In one glance, Samantha had confirmed everything and no words needed to be exchanged, no mention of what happened earlier needed to take place. Vivian walked on and dropped her briefcase, wrapping the blond woman up in her arms with all the maternal grace she could muster. Sam clung to Vivian who soothed her quietly, rubbing her back in a slow, cautious manner.
"Thank you," Sam managed get out through her sobs.
Vivian and Sam stood there, seeking comfort in the safest way possible. Both knowing that this was difficult for each of them, happy that they had a chance to unleash what never had been in the past. Vivian sniffed as tears fell from her eyes as well, Sam's desperation becoming somewhat contagious.
In the end, it comes down to one thing: they are all a team, and when one falters, they all stop and pick that person up and carry on with their search. For Vivian, it was offering support in the best way imaginable. For she was the calm one: smooth, confident and sincere in every respect. This was her job. Not the badges or the Ids, but the people who shared the same desire - to seek and find.
Although much was left unresolved that night, the world did move on and Samantha came back to work that Monday. Melanie was on the uphill road to recovery, as was Sam, who was also aware of Raymond's condition as well as Hodges. The fact that Raymond had not long to live made her feel much more secure, her spirits slightly uplifted. Each agent had been updated on the case, mindful that they would have to testify in court against Hodges and even Raymond.
As expected, the dynamics had changed at work once a lot of people found out what happened to Sam ten years ago, two days after she'd received her award. However, she was ready to work through this and get on with her life, especially now that two men would not be in it.
But at that moment, at 10:57 a.m. Monday morning, the team sat around the large table with the white board cleaned off. They waited anxiously as their fearless, but very human leader walked across the bullpen with a new folder that held a life within. This was their job, day in and day out. For better or for worse, this was what they worked for everyday, saving the lives of others.
The end
~~~~~
Martin rubbed his eyes, trying to blink away the haze that accompanied the need for sleep. His head hurt, his feet hurt, and he wanted to get out of that awful tie. He glanced over at Vivian as she started to shuffle around. He checked his watch. 11:45. It was time to go home.
"Hey Viv, give me the rundown one more time of what we got in there," said Martin scanning his notes.
She looked over at him and smirked, she always took better notes.
"Hodges was an investigator that lived here and in Quantico about five years ago. He also went to Melburne and was a student under Dr. Raymond. Very few relationships, studying to get his doctorate-"
"Yeah I got all of that, what about the C4? Why don't you think he told us where he got it from?"
"He said he was in the military, but I didn't think to ask him more than that."
"Didn't he mention something about Dr. Raymond having some sort of cancer, hence the reason for his frequent trips to Albany?"
"That's right, I almost forgot about that. Dr. Raymond has colon cancer. He was going up to Albany for some kind of radical treatment up there but the treatment stopped working. According to Hodges, Dr. Raymond has about three months left in him."
"Did you tell Jack? Because I don't think he knows about that," Martin said as he looked over the very end of his notes.
"Jack knows, don't worry," she glanced over everything one more time then looked up at Martin. "So basically, Hodges said he can be linked to almost everything Dr. Raymond has done over the past eight years."
"Well, he was an investigator, he most likely did whatever Raymond himself could not. I guess that's how that picture room got filled," he sighed thinking about what Danny told him about the apartment. Like once Sam came in the small room, the expression on her face when she realized the wall was completely of her, it was one of the most mortifying things he'd ever experienced.
"Don't remind me. I guess Hodges took the pictures and Raymond assembled them all," Vivian sat back in her chair, turning thoughts over in her brain. "I wonder what it was in the first place that brought them together. What is it that would bind two very different men to do these things?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Martin asked.
Vivian followed his eyes towards Jack's office. She shook her head incredulously.
"No. No way. She's had problems with men in the past, but never like this. I don't think so," she turned back to her report, pressing print for the third time in the last ten minutes.
"I'm just saying, she went to Melburne, she has a wall in the man's house and she obviously lied about not knowing Hodges. There has to be some kind of history there,
Martin toyed with the thought for a moment more, choosing not to continue.
Vivian disregarded his comments. They would all know the truth on Monday, once everything had been worked out. But as the minutes wore on, she began to understand the motives behind Raymond and Hodges, that Martin was probably right in his reasoning. At least at this late hour Martin was making sense out of all this madness. And madness is exactly what it was.
"Sam finished everything up at NYU right?" asked Martin, tapping the side of his head with the file.
"Yes, NYU was where she transferred to after Melburne."
"You don't think-" Martin began, too unsure to finish his sentence.
"We'll know soon enough won't we? Monday will be here soon enough. Hey, I'm heading out, it's quittin' time," she bent down and shoved some files that she'd never read into her briefcase.
"You coming?" she asked as she slid into her jacket.
Martin was looking in the direction of Jack's office, turning some thoughts over in his head. He was way too tired to try to figure this all out tonight, but he wanted to know what was going on.
"Nah, I think I'll finish up here then head off," he paused, glancing down at his nearly completed report.
"Well, see you tomorrow then," she gave him a sly look and began walking away. She stopped and turned around, resting her arm on his desk. "She's not coming out anytime soon Martin. And even if she did, she wouldn't tell you squat."
He avoided looking up at her and cocked his head to the side, searching for a sufficient reply.
"I know that. I was just waiting for Danny. He said he had to run up to the fourteenth floor," said Martin, a light red blush creeping over his features.
"Right. Good night Martin," she turned away, shaking her head. That boy was something else all right.
Martin watched Vivian walk slowly away, fatigue evident in her walk. He leaned back in his chair, stretched out and then settled back down.
Vivian hazarded a glance into Jack's office as she walked by. The young blond was sitting, leaning far back really, in Jack's chair. She couldn't tell if her eyes were closed or if she were staring at the ceiling, lost in that mess of thoughts crowding her head. She wanted to go in there, tell her it was going to be all right, and hug the poor child.
Everything in her being told her that it would be okay, that it didn't matter that they worked for the government - they had feelings and emotions too. Badges, Ids, black sunglasses, those only got them so far. They never teach a class at the Academy as to how to recover when your biggest secret gets blown up in your face for all the world to see.
Instead of stopping and helping her colleague, her feet carried her steadily onwards, towards the path of least resistance. She pushed the 'down' button and waited for the ever so slow elevator to work its way down to her floor. The large doors slid open, revealing Danny.
He looked like he'd been dragged to Hell and back and he'd returned too soon. He offered a slight smile and a nod, acknowledging with his eyes the brevity of the situation. Danny made a small, 'after you', motion with his hands as she walked on to the elevator. She kept her eyes on his beleaguered form as the doors gradually came to a close.
Somehow, maybe it was a woman's intuition, maybe it was just her, but as she stood there, Vivian knew exactly what happened. She didn't need to wait nine hours to hear it from Jack or Danny on the phone the next morning. She knew Sam wouldn't be there Monday. Vivian waited while the doors opened to let in a haggard accountant, the kind that ruin pens and pencils by chewing on them. Her mind drifted back to the woman upstairs.
She never knew how to define her relationship with Samantha. In all aspects, they were completely different women, brought up in completely different ways. She had a family to care for; Sam could go out after work and get drinks with the boys. There was a large enough difference in age that only neutral topics could be the foreground if they ever had a conversation. Of course, looking back now at all the times she and Sam had been on trips together, been in the car with an endless expanse of road before them, shared truly difficult situations with families - she'd never known what to do.
Of course, she wasn't supposed to make friends at work. No, that wasn't what it was for. She was there to get the job done and do it well. Co- workers were there to help accomplish that goal. What happens when the job is your life? Even though she didn't know the details of what happened to Samantha, she had a pretty good idea. In cases like this, rarely was she ever wrong.
She'd always been the mediator - the calm one - when she was a child. She just wished that now, she could find a solution to this problem. She remembered wondering about Jack and Sam months ago. She knew they were having an affair. Should she have done something? Mentioned it to him? No. These people were her co-workers. She knew they were responsible enough to handle the situation on their own. If their relationship or whatever it was, got in the way of their work, then she would have said something.
But it didn't. And Jack wised up. They called it quits. Doesn't mean his family will magically come back together, but he was going to have to end it if he ever thought he could get out of this vicious cycle.
A muffled sound brought her out of her thoughts. She looked around and realized she was still on the elevator. She was elevator riding. A grown woman, elevator riding. Fancy that. Leaning out of the opened doors, she found herself on the sixth floor. She'd never been on the sixth floor in all the time she'd spent there. She recalled that it was an expansion of homicide, the eighth floor had grown crowded and with the influx of new agents, a new department appeared with it's own slice of the F.B.I. pound cake.
Why didn't home look appealing right now? Why did she want to stay here? She didn't want to leave, she wanted to hover nearby in case they needed her. She wanted to stay for the same reason Martin did. Like it or not, those agents were more than colleagues, they were her friends. She would sacrifice herself for anyone of them just as easily as she had for Jack Malone. Why? Because they'd proven themselves over and over again to be talented, skillful agents, dedicated to their work. They all had their faults, as did she, but working together made her have respect for these workaholics.
After looking around a bit, she walked back to the elevator, but instead of boarding, she sat on a bench opposite the doors. She liked the quiet actually. In a city like this, solitude and serenity were rarely ever gotten. Going home was an option, but being alone for a few minutes was more to her satisfaction.
He hated being alone. He really did. He watched Danny put the rest of the evidence in plastic bags, labeling and placing them in certain boxes. He wished he could be as carefree as Danny, just roll with the punches. Of course, Danny didn't have someone hovering over his shoulder, monitoring his every move.
"Hey, you okay?" Danny asked taking a glance at Martin.
"Ah, yeah. I'm just thinking. It's been a rough week you know?" said Martin, swiveling around in his chair.
"Harder on some more so than others, but yeah, it's been tough."
"Do you think everything is going to be all right? With all of this?"
"You know, I want to say yes and mean it, but I don't know," he turned around and leaned against the table, crossing his arms in normal fashion. "I was there and I don't know everything that's going on. I know that Raymond is a psychopathic killer. I know that Hodges helped orchestrate this whole nightmare and that he knew Sam, but that's all I got."
"Do you think Sam knew Raymond when she was at Melburne? What about Hodges?"
"Beats me, but from what I could tell he's a twisted man as well."
"I keep getting different things, I just can't organize it all. How am I supposed to turn in this report when half of the information might be wrong?" Martin sighed, shaking the papers in the air.
Danny got up and walked to Martin, shaking his head. He took the report, tore it in half and threw it in the trash.
"Hey!"
"Wait until the morning. I always do," said Danny as he placed the lids on the rest of the boxes and piled them one on top of the other.
"I've got to drop this stuff off downstairs before heading out, do you want to give me a hand?" asked Danny, placing his weight on one foot to balance the boxes.
Martin looked back towards Jack's office and sighed again, tomorrow was already here. He could wait until Monday to find out what really happened. He hated being in the dark though. It's not like anyone really knew what was going on, but still, it was his job. Investigating, finding clues, putting puzzles together. He liked being able to call it a day knowing where he stood on a case. Having a stance and being in the dark are two opposite ends of the spectrum.
He stood up slowly, slipped into his jacket and grabbed two boxes off of the table.
"Hey. You gave me the heavy boxes!" he said, realizing the weight within the cardboard boxes surpassed that of Danny's.
"No, you chose the boxes that were left," said Danny, marching onward. Martin's probably were heavier, but no one was holding a gun to his head.
Instead of walking past Jack's office like he should have, Danny stuck his head inside. Sam was still sitting at Jack's desk, her gaze fixed upward as her head rested on the back of the seat.
"Hey Sam?" nothing. He figured as much.
"I uh, I just wanted you to know that what you did today took a lot of guts and that I'm think you did a great job. No matter what happens, we're by your side," he offered as Martin hesitatingly poked his head inside.
She lifted her head off the seat and bent her head down; keeping her eyes closed the whole time. If they only knew. She opened her eyes, but couldn't bring them up to meet those of the two men standing before her
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. What could she say? What was appropriate, when she knew that come next Monday, they wouldn't want to know her. It's not like she'd done anything, but they would treat her differently. That was the last thing she wanted.
Forcing a small grin, she glanced in their direction saying in a scratchy voice, "Thanks."
"Later Sam, take care of that hand," said Danny, turning to walk away. She would be better in a few days. Always was.
Martin stood there a moment, trying to find the perfect words, but only coming across two that fit at this moment. He wanted to bang his head into the glass door in frustration. So much to say, so little to work with. He wanted to tell her that he knew about the affair. He wanted to tell her that no matter what happened today or last year, it would get better. He wanted to tell her that he liked her in black. There is a time for everything and every purpose under Heaven. This was not it.
He clenched his jaw and offered what he could, "Night Samantha."
"Martin this elevator waits for no one, not even the son of Assistant Director Fitzgerald," Danny yelled down the hallway.
Sam gave him a small wave of the hand, and let her head fall back once again as he walked away. She was sleepy. Exhausted. Mentally and physically wiped out. Her senses had pulled overtime and she knew she wouldn't be able to handle her next encounter with Jack. Viv was gone, the boys had left. It was time to go home.
She brought her head up once again and glanced at his clock. It was 12:19. Now she'd pulled all-niters before, but she'd never stayed so she could have the opportunity to divulge her locked away past to her boss. And he was her boss. He wasn't Jack, he wasn't her ex-lover, he was the man who held her future in her hands. Damn him.
She stood up abruptly and looked around. There were still people milling around, but none were near their side of the building. She glanced in the direction of the elevator and saw no one coming except for a large man with a hideous tie.
Her heeled shoes pelted the floor, each step hard and even. Maybe it was time for a change. She could always get another job. She could work at an all-women facility upstate, where it's cold and isolated. Men weren't at the top of her list as far as a relocation went.
She looked at her desk and figured she could grab what she needed and be out of there in five minutes. Her apartment was expendable, she'd only need a few items, and everything else was of little consequence. She bent under her desk searching for her bag. This decision was completely irrational, but it was the best plan she had.
Two men walked by the white board, laughing about a crude joke. Sam glanced in their direction, mystified by the opposite sex. Her eyes moved from them to the board. Melanie's picture was still on the board, framed in by male handwriting. The young woman who had a startling resemblance to her was still on the board. She wanted to go over and take the picture down like she'd done so many times before. The person was found now the world will be a happy place once again. The end.
No, it didn't work like that. Was Melanie really found? Or was her soul still dangling off that building, dozens of blocks away? Sam never really gave much thought to the families or the people once they'd been found. She'd always assumed that everything would pick right up again, nothing to come in the way of a lost person now found.
She realized for the first time that she would be apart of the healing process, going along every step of the way to ensure that Melanie would make it, and that the effects wouldn't be too life altering.
Sam walked around the table and hopped up on it, her bag and last chance to start a new life quickly forgotten. Her legs dangled back and forth, and she sat there staring at the board and picture that could have been taken from her own photo album. She knew that leaving would be the easy way out, that running away from her problems would be giving in, she refused to succumb to the urge. She knew in her heart that in some ways, she would be helping herself just as much as she'd be helping Melanie by working through the pain and suffering. It would be reliving the whole thing again, bringing out parts of herself that were better left locked away in that filing cabinet. At least she had what was in there. If they ever went to court, she'd be ready.
She took a deep breath, exhaling all the tension that had built up around her nerves. She felt so - raw, exposed, naked. A mirthless laugh escaped her, knowing that it would only get worse, that when she would walk down the hallway people would give her sympathetic looks. As if they knew what happened. Really understood. They couldn't begin to comprehend the mess that her life had become. In such a short time she'd gone from a hardworkin agent to risking her life, career and the well being of those around her. She picked up a highlighter that was lying on the table, twirling it around as the anger in her began to rise again.
It was bad enough that she'd been - sexually assaulted - but the psychological ramifications were the most difficult to deal with. Raymond knew how to get in the mind, take memories, mistakes, happiness and stretch it all apart, misconstruing it all and then shoving it back in at will. He was the most dangerous type of killer. He was so charming, so charismatic. His ease and ability to detect her thoughts was alarming, in that he was killing people without them knowing, without it being evident to anyone. Anything could trigger the bomb that he planted in the dozens of minds he'd played with.
It was all just a game. Child's play.
She looked up at the board and saw the eyes of an innocent girl peering back at hers. Those eyes knew only tears and pain now.
"Augh," she threw the highlighter at the board, not aiming at any one spot in particular, she just wanted to hit something.
"Hitting the board with a highlighter isn't going to help," said Jack calmly.
Sam jumped and turned to see Jack sitting in a chair on the other side of the table. Her thoughts must have drowned out the sound of him taking a seat right behind her. She tensed immediately. How long had he been there? It didn't matter. How much longer would she have to stay?
"What's going to happen to me?" she asked, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. She turned her head to the side, waiting for his response, but never turned around. She didn't want to face him. Not like this, even though she needed to.
"We'll get there, but I want to know some things before I can fully evaluate the situation," he said. Jack sat back in the chair and loosened his tie. He had no idea why he still had it on. Didn't matter.
Unaware of what his questions could entail, she hesitated before nodding in agreement.
"I do want to tell you first that I uh, I heard everything you said when you were on the building this afternoon," Jack said carefully, unsure of what her response would be.
Her head shot up, not cognizant that he already knew about her part of the story. She wanted to turn around and look at him, to show him that she didn't want anything from him, didn't want sympathy. She sat there for a moment, contemplating what to say. She didn't want to make this any more personal that it was at present. She was fine. Always was.
"Van Doran already knows though. She wouldn't assign me to this unit unless I agreed to her conditions," she said, already stating what Jack had just learned.
"Yeah I knew you had the therapy sessions with Dr. McCaffery, but I didn't have clearance for anything more than that."
She nodded, aware that he wasn't privy to such information. That sat in an awkward silence for a moment, both exhausted and drained.
"I have problems dealing with," she paused trying to find the appropriate word. None would suffice. "I have issues. Plain and simple."
"It's understandable, it really is. Don't worry Sam, you don't have to go any further right now. I just need to know a little bit more," his fingers toyed with a button in his shirt. He was nervous. For one of the first times in his life, he was nervous about asking someone a couple of personal questions. He wanted to tell her that it was okay, what happened to her, that her reaction to this whole ordeal was expected. Instead, he chose to keep it nice and clean for the time being.
He adjusted himself in his chair and cleared his throat, Sam turned her head once again to the ground before her.
"Why didn't you accept the Dubois Fellowship?"
A small laugh escaped her once again. The irony of it all made her a bit too contemptuous. She was growing increasingly bitter as the night drew on.
"Can't you see the headlines now, Jack? FELLOWSHIP WINNER INVOLVED IN SEX SCANDAL," she framed the imagined header in the air with her hands.
"What, would he have black mailed you? Why didn't you go to the hospital, get proof and take him to court?"
She placed her hands with their sore wrists firmly on the table and hopped off, already frustrated with this conversation.
"It's easier said than done. You met him, you know how he is. I wouldn't have been able to stand up against him. It was his word against mine. People were more likely to believe a valued and trusted member of their faculty than an ambitious student," she kept her arms crossed and paced back and forth, unable to stand still.
"I don't understand. Why couldn't you have brought it forth to Dr. Mackenzie or another member of the faculty, whom you trusted," said Jack, unable to get over his confusion.
"Because, I'm not like that, Jack! I didn't want half the world to know what happened to me two days after I got the award," she paused as her voice cracked at the end. She regained her composure and started again, barely above a whisper.
"He told me that if I did so much as mention a word to anyone, that he'd go to the faculty and media, proclaiming me a desperate liar. If I said anything, any hope that lingered of having a good career would have been demolished. He was going to destroy my life," she stopped, her frustration with herself overwhelming her. Reflecting on the past 24 hours, she shrugged her shoulders submissively, "he did destroy my life."
Jack didn't get up, didn't say a word. He sat quietly and watched her deal with the demons in her head before going further.
"Did you ever get any proof?"
"Yeah, I uh. I went back again. I was wearing a skirt and I had a recorder strapped between my legs. I have verbal affirmation and his threat to blackmail me. I just wanted it for protection though," she paused briefly, trying to find the strength to go on.
"There's a type of stigma that attaches itself to women who've been raped. I've seen it happen repeatedly. But it was ten years ago. The system didn't work the same way then as it does now and teachers had a little bit more credibility," she stopped and pulled out the chair on the side of the table next to Jack, taking a seat with little ease.
"Stupid ass, he almost tried it again when I went the second time," she shook her head, marveling at his conceit.
"What happened?"
"You know that limp he has?" he nodded.
"Well, I had my umbrella with me that day. He was out for a week, didn't say a thing to anyone. He touched me and my reflex involved the umbrella making contact with his knee," they laughed anxiously, alleviating the increasing tension that surrounded their conversation.
Sam's smile turned into a frown as she crossed her arms instinctively, her eyes shutting against the vision of his hand running up her leg.
Jack wanted to lean over and just offer her some sort of reassurance, but digressed in fear of her reaction to his touch. Women were not in want of male consolation in a time like this. He was lucky she was even talking to him. Trusting in others was not her forte.
He loosened his tie, struggling to get this whole 'questioning' done. It was mandatory procedure in such a high profile case as this, and especially when an agent is linked to the case.
"Clayton Hodges was in the military right? That's how he got the C4?"
His voice startled her out of her thoughts. Clayton Hodges was a disturbed man in every sense of the word. He deserved to die. He deserved to have Raymond kill him.
"Yes, he went to school with a scholarship from the Marines. He had to pay them back by being in the reserves for five years after school. In the summer he would leave for a month and go to countries like Iran, Bolivia, Ecuador. He was part of a demolition unit," she struck a palm to her head, angry that she didn't remember it earlier.
"What was your relationship with him in college?"
She frowned, wary of what she was saying.
"He was in love with me," she threw her hands up with returning frustration. All the signs were there. How could she have been so blind?
"And you didn't reciprocate these feelings I take it?"
She shook her head, the uncomfortable territory preventing her from speaking.
"You left right after your junior year was over, right?"
She nodded, he knew the rest of the story, where she finished up, where she earned her law degree.
"Did he ever contact you over that period of time?"
"At the very end of my senior year at NYU. He tracked me down. He was the one who came in the first time around after Dr. Raymond - you know - and he was led to believe by Dr. Raymond that we'd been in a relationship while I was at school. He wouldn't listen to me when I told him he was misinformed, but Dr. Raymond is a very persuasive man and I am just a manipulative slut."
"Don't say that. You are anything but that," he said, trying to keep her focused.
"You saw those pictures. You must think I sleep with a different man every night. Who knows. Maybe I do," she was getting angry. Being violated in such an intimate way only left her feeling absolute revulsion with the opposite sex.
"Sam, it doesn't matter what I think. But for the record, I don't."
"How do you know though? Were you there? What makes you think you weren't one more rung I had to climb to get to the top?" her self-deprecating manner was growing too intense.
"Because, I know you!" he matched her volume level then subsided. "Samantha, stop this. You are only going to regret it later."
She didn't hear his words, she could only dwell on her own thoughts and Raymond's words playing over and over in her head.
"I couldn't get the feeling of him off of me, I always felt dirty, like I shouldn't be around others. And after that first time a couple years later, I felt a little of him leave. It almost became an obsession with me, using sex to get him off of me. I was horrible to so many guys, and then one day, I just stopped. I couldn't justify my behavior in my mind, couldn't stand to look at myself in the mirror. The feeling never left though. Even now, I still," she couldn't continue, her voice once again overcome by the lump in her throat.
Jack remained silent, letting her confess was one of the best things she could do right now. His remaining open to her, accepting her without censure was all he could do on his part.
He took a long look at her, noting the changes in her expression and posture. Sadness always took a misshapen form on people.
"Sam, you are one of the most intelligent, empathetic people I know. Your ability to put yourself in someone else's shoes is unfathomable to me. Not once have I ever thought of you any less than a remarkable human being. Don't let him mess with your head like that," he said resolutely.
She blushed under his compliment, but really he was only stating the truth. He leaned forward on the table, trying to remember if there was anything else to ask before she could go home.
"You know," said Sam, her voice growing more hoarse with each word, "compassion, empathy, they only get you so far. Sometimes that's what defeats a person in the end. It overwhelms you to the point to where all you can focus on is what is right in front of you," she stopped, she was truly unable to go much further.
He watched as she braced her arm on the table, cupping her mouth with her hand. Her left hand remained on the table tracing circles around a small dent in the veneer. She kept her eyes glued to the corner of the file in front of him, unable to manage more than a blink.
"Are we done?" she muttered, bringing her hand far enough away so he could barely decipher her words.
He looked over everything, knowing it could wait until Monday, even Tuesday. They all needed a break. Sam especially. Martin would just have to wait until then to find out what was going on.
"Are we?" he asked in a tone that held many meanings. At his question her eyes went up to his, finally looking at him for the first time that night.
The air caught in Jack's throat as he saw the look in Sam's eyes. Fatigue etched her features and her eyes were on the brink of tears. But what got him was the shine that he saw when he looked at her so many times in the past. That shine, that spirit, was gone. In its place was an indescribable look of despair. She reminded him of a free horse who'd been captured and had runaway, only to be captured once again. Her spirit was broken. She was broken.
Without thinking, he reached over and grabbed her hand. It was a simple gesture really, but not appropriate for the time and situation.
She pulled her hand away immediately as if she'd just touched a flame.
"I can't - " the lump in her throat made it exceedingly difficult for her to speak. She stood up quickly and walked behind him to her desk. She was ashamed of herself, aware that she wasn't ready to face the world.
"I'm sorry," she whispered while he nodded looking straight ahead, his eyes gravitating to the picture in front of him.
She grabbed her bag and started to walk away, tears already starting to escape.
"Sam," said Jack, he turned his head towards her now, watching her turn slightly with her eyes fixed on the ground.
"I'm proud of you. Never do that again, but know that without you, Melanie would probably be dead right now. I thank you for that," his voice was low and coarse, betraying the emotions that were overcoming him.
"See you Monday," he uttered, the decision of her future was made. He had evaluated the situation and although she would receive some disapproval, in no way would she be dismissed.
She nodded her head in appreciation and walked to the elevator. She pushed the button with shaking hands, her nerves a mess. As she waited, her mind went back to the man sitting at the table, who was mentally kicking himself for his actions. She didn't know that he was clenching his eyelids together to keep the tears from running down his face. She didn't know that as she would be crawling into bed, he would be sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair interrogating Jonathan Raymond for two hours. No easy task when all he wanted to do was strangle the man with his bare hands. She didn't know that early that Saturday morning, he would be there to witness Clayton Hodges being rushed to the hospital because he'd broken down and tried to kill himself from the psychological effects of working with Jonathan Raymond. She didn't know that he wouldn't go home to his wife and children that night - that he would fall asleep in his two-day-old suit in his stuffy, cramped apartment.
As she boarded the elevator the only thought before her was Melanie. There was going to be a case to be sure, and everyone would find out what happened to her ten years ago, two days after she'd won her award. She knew that the certificate, notebook, cluster of papers, journal and tape were going to be her portion of defense in the case against Dr. Jonathan Raymond.
Breaking down in an elevator wasn't the best idea in the world, seeing as she still had another half-hour before she reached her house, but she couldn't make it any further. The elevator descended as the lone agent stood in the center, her hand cupping her mouth to the silence the gasps and cries that escaped her. The elevator unexpectedly halted on the sixth floor, causing her to choke in an attempt to quickly stop her crying.
As the elevator doors opened, the sight before her was a godsend.
In one glance, Samantha had confirmed everything and no words needed to be exchanged, no mention of what happened earlier needed to take place. Vivian walked on and dropped her briefcase, wrapping the blond woman up in her arms with all the maternal grace she could muster. Sam clung to Vivian who soothed her quietly, rubbing her back in a slow, cautious manner.
"Thank you," Sam managed get out through her sobs.
Vivian and Sam stood there, seeking comfort in the safest way possible. Both knowing that this was difficult for each of them, happy that they had a chance to unleash what never had been in the past. Vivian sniffed as tears fell from her eyes as well, Sam's desperation becoming somewhat contagious.
In the end, it comes down to one thing: they are all a team, and when one falters, they all stop and pick that person up and carry on with their search. For Vivian, it was offering support in the best way imaginable. For she was the calm one: smooth, confident and sincere in every respect. This was her job. Not the badges or the Ids, but the people who shared the same desire - to seek and find.
Although much was left unresolved that night, the world did move on and Samantha came back to work that Monday. Melanie was on the uphill road to recovery, as was Sam, who was also aware of Raymond's condition as well as Hodges. The fact that Raymond had not long to live made her feel much more secure, her spirits slightly uplifted. Each agent had been updated on the case, mindful that they would have to testify in court against Hodges and even Raymond.
As expected, the dynamics had changed at work once a lot of people found out what happened to Sam ten years ago, two days after she'd received her award. However, she was ready to work through this and get on with her life, especially now that two men would not be in it.
But at that moment, at 10:57 a.m. Monday morning, the team sat around the large table with the white board cleaned off. They waited anxiously as their fearless, but very human leader walked across the bullpen with a new folder that held a life within. This was their job, day in and day out. For better or for worse, this was what they worked for everyday, saving the lives of others.
The end