Window, Part 2
Author's Note: This is set approximately four months after the previous installment..around Christmastime G.
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"Any plans for Christmas?"
The cold was biting, and it cut easily through the dark winter coat I'd elected to wear. Less than a week away from the holiday in question found Danny and I returning on foot to the unit after a frustratingly unsuccessful interrogation.
"Danny, why are we walking?" I wasn't in a good mood. It was freezing, I was tired, and we had nothing new to report. The crowded streets packed with holiday shoppers who seemed oblivious to the Arctic temperatures did nothing to improve my mindset.
Danny was thoroughly amused by my grumbling.
"It's three blocks, Samantha. Hardly worth driving."
"Well, it's cold." A deep breath, as I jammed my hands in my pockets. I never could remember gloves. "Sorry. To answer your question, visiting my mother, I think."
Sure couldn't wait for that visit. I could visualize the conversation now. There would be the usual formalities, of course, and then I would inevitably be subjected to a barrage of disapproving observations centering around the fact that I was unmarried and hadn't been in a serious relationship since my previous marriage, which, in my opinion, didn't even count. I wondered idly what my response would be this time.
'Well, mom, there's someone I may have fallen for..yeah, he's great. Works the tall and dark thing really well, he's motivated, intriguing, funny..oh, did I mention he's also my married boss? Guess not..'
Heh. Even though the situation really wasn't humorous at all, especially because it was becoming increasingly more difficult for me to avoid my growing feelings for Jack, the thought of her reaction lifted my spirits considerably. I love my mom, but her 'a woman is nothing without a man' mentality got old sometime in the eighteen hundreds. It's not her fault, I suppose, since the idea was undoubtedly drilled into her by my father.
I shook myself out of my thoughts and squinted up at Danny.
"What about you?" I spoke carefully. I didn't know much about the family Danny had lost, but I could imagine that holidays were an especially difficult time for him.
He gave me a smile, though, a real one, as we left the cold behind and entered the FBI building.
"Spending the day with a friend and his family. It's kind of a tradition, I guess."
I was glad to hear that, and I let him know. Over the past months, Danny had become a close friend, and it was reassuring to know he wouldn't be alone during what could be the loneliest time of year.
I was numb.
Two days had passed since Danny and I made that walk in the bitter cold, and, though I was now sheltered in the warm, heated unit, the icy feeling had returned full force.
It was December 24. Christmas Eve, and we'd just returned from the discovery of the mutilated body of Ethan Wood, the eight year old boy for whom we'd been searching during the past seventy-two hours.
I was in my cubicle, pen in hand, trying in vain to finish up my report. The words swam in front of me, and it took all my strength to even begin to describe what we had found.
Beaten. Raped. Killed.
Thinking about Ethan Wood's skinny little body, marred almost beyond recognition and tossed carelessly in a ditch beside the road..it was too much.
I stood up and began to walk slowly around our nearly deserted floor, willing my stomach to calm and trying to keep the tears at bay just long enough to finish the stupid report, and then I could go home and try to deal with the haunting images that were now making concentration impossible.
Except Ethan Wood was never going to go home again.
My little walk had taken me to the partially open door of Jack's office, and, against my better judgment, I pushed it open further and stepped inside.
He was sitting at his desk, head in his hands, and he looked up slowly as I entered.
There was no trace of the unbreakable facade I saw so often during our work together. His shoulders were slumped, his face drawn, his eyes tormented.
I didn't know what to say, or if there even was anything to say. He stood and walked to the window, glancing out before turning his tortured gaze back to me.
"What do I say, Sam?" His voice was rough, wild. "When his parents call and want to know why their little boy isn't going to be home for Christmas, when they want to know why some bastard kidnapped, raped and murdered their child..what do I tell them?" The last query was barely a rasping whisper.
There were no words.
I crossed the room until I was only a foot away from him and, completely unsure of what I was doing, closed the remaining distance, wrapping my arms gently around his neck in a soft, mindless hug.
He was stiff for an instant, increasing my uncertainty, before his body relaxed and his arms closed warmly around my back.
The tension slowly drained away, and I couldn't believe how comfortable I was, how comfortable this was, as if it wasn't the first time we'd clung desperately to each other, trying to ward off the terrors we'd witnessed. I closed my eyes; the bitter and sweet of this moment was something I wanted to feel, not see.
I don't know how long we stood like that, but by the time we pulled apart tears were streaming freely down my cheeks and I didn't care enough to wipe them away.
Instead, I laid a hand on his arm.
"Tell them..tell them there's not always a reason." My eyes searched his. "Tell them it's better not to ask why, because to do that is to give up hope, and accept that there are people cruel enough to rape and murder a little boy with no motive whatsoever. Tell them to remember his life, instead of the end of it." My voice was trembling, and I didn't know if what I was saying made any sense at all. What sense was there to be made out of the murder of an innocent eight year old?
He nodded, and, after a few deep breaths, offered me a shaky smile. Through my tears, I returned it.
"You getting out of here?" After a moment, he sounded almost normal.
I glanced back out of his office. "I was going to finish up my report first.."
"Leave it. You can finish it later, okay? It's been a long day." He shook his head at the understatement.
"Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Jack." My voice revealed my relief at this temporary escape from the horror.
Black eyes again bored into mine. Under his intense gaze, I was naked, completely exposed.
I liked it.
"Hold on a sec." Turning back to his desk, he rummaged around briefly before retrieving a gift wrapped box.
"Merry Christmas." His mouth curved into a small smile as mine fell open in surprise.
"Wha..Jack, no. I can't..I don't even have anything for you!"
I must have looked as stricken as I felt, because an amused chuckle escaped him before he again grew serious, and his voice dropped an octave when he spoke.
"Gifts don't always come in packages, Sam."
He regarded me steadily, honestly, while I tried to speak over the lump in my throat.
"Merry Christmas, Jack."
I sat on the crowded subway, package in hand, and debated waiting until I got home to open it. That didn't last very long, and soon I slid the paper aside, opening the box to reveal a shrink-wrapped, neon green softball.
Then I was laughing and sobbing at the same time, overwhelmed by the touching simplicity of the gift. I couldn't help but imagine the smirk that must have been on Jack's face as he picked it out, and I wondered at how, in its intensity, joy could be just as filling and shocking as pain.
People were staring as I tore the shrink wrap apart and rolled the ball between my frozen hands, but I couldn't bring myself to care. The texture, the faint new smell, the stark red stitches..everything was a reminder of simpler, easier days..times when the only things I had to worry about were stopping the grounder and nailing the throw to first.
Still clutching the brilliant green ball, I rested my forehead against the hard wall of the subway. Life was so complicated now; brimming with turmoil and confusion and heartache. The softball was an anchor, though, proof that some things didn't have to be devastating and difficult.
Things like a warm hug in the office after a draining day, or a gentle smile that accompanied the soft good night.
It was a reminder that not all gifts came in packages.
TBC..