Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. They belong to CBS, Jerry
Bruckheimer, and other people, I'm sure, but I'm not one of those very
lucky people.
Note: Do FBI divisions even have picnics? Probably not, but they do in this story. It's Sam and Jack, from Marie's POV. Set just before Marie and Jack's separation, and before Samantha and Jack actually began their affair. No spoilers.
[Special thanks to EOlivet for reviewing my other fics. I couldn't think of how to thank you, and I still can't, but I was so nervous about posting those and your encouragement was incredible. Thank you.]
They Were Just Talking
Feeling not just a little bit like a stalker, she watched them through the window. She watched them under the pretense of putting food she did not intend to eat on a white paper plate. She watched them, not entirely sure of why she felt like such an intruder, of why she had the distinct feeling of trespassing, of seeing something she wasn't supposed to. It wasn't like they were hidden; rather, the two were standing in the bright sunlight, surrounded by people talking and eating and laughing and playing volleyball. Why then, did Marie feel as though she should look away?
Jack was her husband, after all. He was her husband, but it was this other woman, this slim blonde agent, who was making him laugh, who was responsible for the way his face lit up when she graced him with one of her brilliant smiles, who was talking to him with such familiarity and ease, with feelings Marie herself couldn't seem to feel around him anymore. They were just talking, but the emotions and elation that crossed Jack's face whenever Samantha's face crinkled into a grin were reminiscent of feelings Marie used to inspire in him, and he in her. They had once talked in this intimately familiar way, teasing and laughing, till the mere conversation filled her with the bubbly giddiness Marie knew this other woman was experiencing. Marie didn't get to feel that way anymore, and she knew Jack didn't either, at least not around her. She couldn't pinpoint when it had occurred, when his nearness stopped offering her warm comfort, when even the gentlest teasing remark began leaving her angry instead of elated, when she had seen the barriers in his eyes go up, rising along with her own walls as they closed each other out. She didn't know when it had happened, but it had, and now the gap between them stretched farther than she had ever imagined.
She wasn't angry with Jack for leaving her at the division's picnic. In fact, it had been Marie who had excused herself to go talk to Vivian, and what had she expected Jack to do? Wait alone for her to return? Of course not. Still, the fact remained that she was now alone, and Jack was reveling in the companionship of slender, blonde Samantha.
Marie wished she could feel something toward this woman, but the complete apathy inside frightened her. She couldn't hate her, because Samantha hadn't done anything wrong, she was merely talking to Jack, and besides, during the few times Marie herself had talked to Samantha, she had found her to be intelligent, warm and thoughtful. But she couldn't like her, either. Not when Samantha was the one bringing the light into Jack's eyes, relaxing him with her words and returning his bright smiles with her own.
They weren't doing anything but talking, and yet Marie was still unable to look away. The glass window that separated them was rather symbolic, because it paralleled the invisible separation that existed even when they were right next to each other. Marie could watch Jack but no longer could she reach what was inside, she couldn't calm him with a soft touch or excite him with a touch just as gentle.
It was this realization that caused Marie to finally tear her gaze away from the window, as she endured the knowledge that she could no longer reach Jack, couldn't soothe or exhilarate or delight him.
But someone else could.
Note: Do FBI divisions even have picnics? Probably not, but they do in this story. It's Sam and Jack, from Marie's POV. Set just before Marie and Jack's separation, and before Samantha and Jack actually began their affair. No spoilers.
[Special thanks to EOlivet for reviewing my other fics. I couldn't think of how to thank you, and I still can't, but I was so nervous about posting those and your encouragement was incredible. Thank you.]
They Were Just Talking
Feeling not just a little bit like a stalker, she watched them through the window. She watched them under the pretense of putting food she did not intend to eat on a white paper plate. She watched them, not entirely sure of why she felt like such an intruder, of why she had the distinct feeling of trespassing, of seeing something she wasn't supposed to. It wasn't like they were hidden; rather, the two were standing in the bright sunlight, surrounded by people talking and eating and laughing and playing volleyball. Why then, did Marie feel as though she should look away?
Jack was her husband, after all. He was her husband, but it was this other woman, this slim blonde agent, who was making him laugh, who was responsible for the way his face lit up when she graced him with one of her brilliant smiles, who was talking to him with such familiarity and ease, with feelings Marie herself couldn't seem to feel around him anymore. They were just talking, but the emotions and elation that crossed Jack's face whenever Samantha's face crinkled into a grin were reminiscent of feelings Marie used to inspire in him, and he in her. They had once talked in this intimately familiar way, teasing and laughing, till the mere conversation filled her with the bubbly giddiness Marie knew this other woman was experiencing. Marie didn't get to feel that way anymore, and she knew Jack didn't either, at least not around her. She couldn't pinpoint when it had occurred, when his nearness stopped offering her warm comfort, when even the gentlest teasing remark began leaving her angry instead of elated, when she had seen the barriers in his eyes go up, rising along with her own walls as they closed each other out. She didn't know when it had happened, but it had, and now the gap between them stretched farther than she had ever imagined.
She wasn't angry with Jack for leaving her at the division's picnic. In fact, it had been Marie who had excused herself to go talk to Vivian, and what had she expected Jack to do? Wait alone for her to return? Of course not. Still, the fact remained that she was now alone, and Jack was reveling in the companionship of slender, blonde Samantha.
Marie wished she could feel something toward this woman, but the complete apathy inside frightened her. She couldn't hate her, because Samantha hadn't done anything wrong, she was merely talking to Jack, and besides, during the few times Marie herself had talked to Samantha, she had found her to be intelligent, warm and thoughtful. But she couldn't like her, either. Not when Samantha was the one bringing the light into Jack's eyes, relaxing him with her words and returning his bright smiles with her own.
They weren't doing anything but talking, and yet Marie was still unable to look away. The glass window that separated them was rather symbolic, because it paralleled the invisible separation that existed even when they were right next to each other. Marie could watch Jack but no longer could she reach what was inside, she couldn't calm him with a soft touch or excite him with a touch just as gentle.
It was this realization that caused Marie to finally tear her gaze away from the window, as she endured the knowledge that she could no longer reach Jack, couldn't soothe or exhilarate or delight him.
But someone else could.