A/N-- Immeasurable thanks to both M and B for all their help with this. Much love to Maple Street as always. Thanks to Andi for her encouragement.

Continued from Chapter One

Chapter Two:

By the sixth box Samantha was tired. Moving was taxing enough when you wanted to leave. She didn't have any of the excitement that usually came with relocation; she didn't want a fresh start or a better job. She was being exiled by the same person who had brought her here.

Jack.

He had left five messages on her machine over five days, each one a little more resigned than the last. On the sixth day there hadn't been a call. She told herself that she felt relief, not disappointment. The anger was still there, but at a more manageable level. She hadn't returned to work; HR had suggested she take the week to get things squared away and she had taken it-- not because she needed the time, but the prospect of going to the office made her nauseous.

Danny had called twice. She had laughed and made small talk before promising to call and write. Presenting the image of someone who was on her way up the ladder and thrilled for the opportunity instead of an agent who had been sentenced to another city for a crime she didn't commit. No one had leveled an accusation, but the OPR only transfers agents for two reasons. Punishment or promotion. She had been told it was the latter, but she knew that wasn't true.

She was a thirty year-old agent with less than four years with the Bureau. Her solve rate was inapplicable, since she worked as part of a unit. Her yearly performance reviews were good, but nothing that would get pinned to the bulletin board. If anything Jack had been conservative with her reports. 'I just want to err on the side of caution' were actually his exact words. It wouldn't hurt her career, but it wouldn't raise any red flags when her service awards didn't match the long list of "outstandings" on paper. And to be honest, she wasn't outstanding. That label applied to someone like Vivian. Good, capable, efficient agents that never tested the system. Never got questioned by the Office of Professional Review for sleeping with their bosses. Certainly never got shot by their own weapon when they let it get into the hands of a vigilante hostage. If the Bureau wanted an agent worthy of promotion, she could think of at least seven on their floor with more seniority and less colorful histories.

Martin had stopped by once. She had been cordial and offered him a drink before feigning exhaustion. She liked him-- a lot more than she had at the beginning--but was finding it easier as the hours went on to break all ties. As she watched him leave her conscience kicked in and she handed him her new number, not minding if he called her. Not caring if he didn't. The less reminders of this job-- this city-- the better.

Keller didn't get a call. Neither did the few friends she had managed to make outside of work. She had lived in New York City for five years, one before she had joined the FBI and four in the Missing Persons Unit. She worked more than anyone else on the team, outside Jack. Perhaps because of Jack, but she convinced herself it was because of her strong work ethic. What little time she had off the job she used to socialize. Not having the opportunity to build relationships, she essentially had contacts. Most of the men didn't seem to mind, and if they did she moved on. Samantha hated herself for it, but she wasn't going to hurt someone or be hurt herself because her career wasn't conducive to a relationship.

It wasn't until the summer of 2001 that the two intertwined.

The first time that she and Jack crossed the line was a muggy July afternoon. A case had ended badly; the body of a teenage boy they had been tracking for almost a week was pulled out of the river. She had taken it hard, but Jack had taken it harder. Somehow a commiseratory hug had ended up with their clothes spread across the floor of an inexpensive motel room. Day had turned into night before he had left with an apology; Samantha simply took a shower and tried to convince herself that Jack didn't mean anything more to her than the flings to which she had become accustomed.

Two weeks later he asked her on a date.

It wasn't a real date; he had asked her to go to a local diner to discuss a case. The invitation was unusual, but she hadn't seen anything to indicate it was anything other than advertised-- especially since Danny invited himself to come along. At the restaurant Jack had slid into a booth as Danny took the seat across from him. She paused a moment before sitting down next to Jack, who laid the paperwork between them. Making notations with his right hand, she felt the fingers on his left rest lightly on her hip. Danny's view was obstructed by her right arm or she might have considered shifting away from his touch. She wasn't sure if it was an advance or an apology, but either way he shared her bed that night.

That bed was now the resting place for a seventh box, filled mostly with small electronics and picture frames. The pictures were mainly of her family; she noted with some measure of amusement that a few of them still held the photos that came with the frames themselves. No pets, no boyfriends. She had one picture of Jack, but it was clipped out of the newspaper after they had done a press conference together. There wouldn't be any Christmas party photos of them; she was sure that honor belonged to Marie. It was funny, because for as tawdry as their relationship seemed when it began, it had ended up as being one of the most significant she had ever been involved in. The most significant, if you excluded her brief marriage and she did. Looking back she knew it wasn't love. She couldn't say the same for her relationship with Jack.

In the beginning it was mostly about the sex. Whether it was a release from the job or from his marriage she wasn't sure, but she was there for him because she wanted to be. He'd show up at her apartment or in a hotel room and it would start at the door. As the days turned into weeks, the boundaries became less clear. Instead of falling into bed, he'd greet her with a light kiss before sitting on the couch. They began to talk more. Occasionally they would watch movies. There were a couple nights where sleeping together didn't involve sex at all. It was ironic that all of her most intimate moments with Jack came with their clothes on. Also ironic that that same intimacy was what would eventually drive him away.

Most relationships end because of a lack of feeling. Her relationship with Jack ended because there was too much. He wasn't juggling two lives, but three. His family, his career, and her. She was sure that she also fell into the second category, at least as far as Marie knew. Samantha wasn't his girlfriend, but 'a case' or 'an important lead.' Whatever sounded plausible to his wife when he didn't come home for a third night in a row. Soon it became hard for him to quantify her as that; just like with work, emotions could get in the way. She shook her head. Most affairs ended because of guilt. Guilt because there was a wife or kids at home. Jack had ended theirs out of guilt as well, but not just because of his family. He could no longer dismiss her.

And she believed that's why she had a 9:30 am flight scheduled out of La Guardia the next morning.

There was a knock on the door and she knew instinctively that it was him. Crossing the room, she looked through the peephole out of habit before opening the door. Swinging it open, she didn't wait for him to enter before walking back into the living room.

Jack had expected that. "Hey."

"Hello." She responded, not trying to disguise the coolness of her tone. Seeing him wince, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction. A relationship often created subtle nuances between its participants and she had just betrayed one of them.

He stood in the doorway for a few moments before he tried again. "I tried calling, but you didn't return my messages."

Staring at the counter, she ran a fingernail along a small crack. "Some people might have taken that as a hint."

"A hint to what? That you've been avoiding me? Not answering my calls or pages? I know that. I just want to know why." At her incredulous expression, he raised his hands. "What?"

Taking a breath, Samantha fought to stay rational. "I could have understood you not telling me. I know there's protocol to be followed, but to learn the reason for all of this the way I did..." She pressed her palms against the surface. "I just thought I deserved more than that."

"They told you why?" He leaned against the arm of the couch, trying to imagine whose idea it might have been to tell her. Cameron had been clear; only the subject of her promotion would be brought up.

Nodding, she made her way around the couch and sat on the opposite edge. Her body language was tense with anger, but her knees were shaking. "Why?"

He sat closer now, but far enough away to give her space. "It was either this or they were going to press harder in an OPR review. I had two choices. Promotion or termination. I didn't have an option."

She stared at him. "This wasn't your choice?"

It was his turn to stare. "Is that what they told you?"

"They said that it was a forced transfer to Washington and that it was ordered by you. What was I supposed to think?"

Standing, Jack walked to the other side of the room. "Did you ever consider asking me about this instead of making assumptions about my motivations? How could you think..." He lowered his voice. "Why the hell would I do something like that?"

"You've been investigated recently. You're trying to reconcile with your wife. It would make your life a lot easier."

Had she spoken to Van Doran? "That's bullshit, Sam, and you know it."

She did know it. Why was she trying to push him away? Shrugging, she sank lower into the cushions. "All I know is what I was told."

"I fought this. I didn't have a choice."

"In your mind, maybe. Did you ever think to ask me my opinion? If maybe I'd rather be fired than shipped off like government property?"

The truth is he hadn't. Hadn't because he had seen an out not for himself, but for her. "If the decision had been mine, I would never have made it. I was between a rock and a hard place and I made the only decision I could have at the time."

They sat in silence for several minutes before Samantha spoke again, almost tentatively. "I don't want to go."

He noticed for the first time that night how young she looked. She was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. He had also never seen her appear as vulnerable as she was at that moment. Taking a risk, he reached an arm across the back of the couch and drew it across her shoulders, pulling her closer. Relieved when she didn't pull away, he allowed himself to tighten his hold. "I know."

"I could quit." The words rang false even as she said them. There was nothing left for her in New York without her job. Professionally or personally. The only person she had truly grown close to in five years now spent his nights across the city with his wife.

"No you couldn't."

She felt his lips in her hair and tried not to cry. "I don't know how to do your job, Jack. I don't think I'm qualified for this."

"I've been censured twice in the last year. I think you'll be an improvement." He was relieved when he felt her stifle a laugh.

Neither of them moved until Samantha felt her arm starting to fall asleep. Extricating herself from his grasp, she stood. "Can I call you for advice?"

"You can just call me."

She smiled at his uncharacteristic response. Their eyes met for a moment until he looked away. "I'm sure you have stuff to do. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

For as angry as she had been just moments before, Samantha felt overcome with an odd sense of calm. "Yeah. Movers are coming at 8 am, which is right about the time I should be getting to the airport."

Jack walked toward the door, but stopped in the foyer. "Do you need a ride?"

"I'm taking a shuttle, but thanks."

Nodding, he took two steps closer to her. "I'll miss you."

There weren't any etiquette books that covered how to say goodbye to someone you had a relationship with, but never should have. Who you loved when they couldn't love you back.

"I'll miss you, too."

The hug was stiff at first. Awkward. Not like on the couch minutes before. Seconds passed before Samantha relaxed and slid her arms around his waist, under his coat. They stood like that for several moments before she felt his lips touch hers lightly. Seconds passed, but it never deepened. It was a comforting kind of contact, and for a moment she wondered what it meant before pushing it out of her mind.

Jack gave her one final smile and turned to open the door behind him. He was halfway out when he heard her call after him.

"I almost forgot." She scribbled her address and telephone number on a takeout menu, having packed all of her notepads in the fifth box. "Just in case."

Pocketing the folded paper, his eyes met hers one last time. "Thanks." She waited until he was out the door before she started to cry.

TBC.