A/N: So, it's come to a close. Where do I begin? There are so many people who have been way too kind to me and this story, and if I listed them all, this would be longer than the chapter. You know who you are. I have to thank the most amazing beta ever to grace the planet. M, you've been a wonderful supporter and friend, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. A, thanks again for the title, the art, and for being the best friend I've ever had. S, B, J, K, M2…you guys have all helped in so many ways. Writing this story helped get me through a really dark period in my life, and by supporting it you've really supported me. Thank you.
Continued from Chapter Eleven.
Chapter Twelve:
Marie filed for a divorce the same day as Melissa filed for a transfer.
Jack couldn't decide if it was fate or coincidence that had him staring at both documents two weeks after Samantha had walked out of his office forever, but either way it was ironic. He now had two voids in his life that could only be filled by the same person who created them.
Irreconcilable differences was the reason listed on the divorce papers; a simple, pat explanation for a separation caused not by infidelity or its ramifications, but because neither side cared enough to overcome them. He wasn't surprised she wasn't seeking anything more than the apartment they had shared; she had always made more money than he did. Custody of Hanna and Kate wasn't an issue, as the current arrangement was acceptable to both parties.
He wondered what was custom in situations like this, if he should take an early day or head to the nearest bar. Shaking his head, he pushed the papers aside. He hadn't even done that after Samantha had left.
Melissa's transfer request hadn't taken him by surprise, but the reason had. No accusations of misconduct or supervisial impropriety. Just a simple "personal reasons" with a request to be placed in a division more appropriate to her background. It would probably be arrogant to think she was protecting him or the office by hedging the real reason; the Bureau didn't like snitches even more than they didn't like supervisors sleeping with their subordinates. It tended to create an atmosphere of distrust and disrupted unity within the team. Something his affair with Samantha never did.
If anything, the opposite had happened.
He hadn't heard from her since she left that day. No calls, no emails, nothing to indicate where she was or what she was doing. Two days earlier he had brought up her profile in the database. The new promotion had not brought a new picture with it. It was the same photo that he had been sent with her new hire paperwork before she had joined his team. Despite all the mandated seminars on diversity in the workplace, he remembered looking at her image with a certain amount of skepticism. A green agent fresh out of Quantico with almost no field experience wasn't his first choice to join what was considered an elite unit. Add to that her almost preternatural good looks and he had almost sent her folder back to personnel. Still, the notes from the recruiter had described her as driven, highly intelligent, and intuitive: all assets in their work.
Any doubts he had about her physical capability for the job was cast aside three weeks later when she was confronted with her first armed suspect. Trapped between a wall and a dumpster, she tackled the man when any other agent would have gone for their weapon. After she had the suspect handcuffed and placed in the back of a police car, he had told her that what she had done was incredibly stupid, and if she tried anything like it again she'd find herself off his team.
Samantha had apologized as she removed her jacket, revealing a darkening bruise there. It had to be painful, but she said nothing as they had driven back to the office, her mind already on their next lead. Her actions might have been misguided, but his skepticism had been erased. Whenever he needed an agent in a volatile situation, his instinct was to send Samantha; she was quick, intelligent, athletic, and underestimated by almost any perpetrator she was likely to come across. It was why she was in the bookstore that day, and ultimately, why she was shot. It was likely instinct that caused her to run at Mashburn, an impetuous decision that almost cost her life.
Jack didn't regret his decision, however. He had no doubt that if someone like Danny had been the one to oversee the drop, people would have died. He was simply too volatile for the situation.
That was why he had always shrugged off the suggestion that he would show favoritism to Samantha because of their relationship. Several times he had to send her into situations where she might not return, and every time he had done it not as an employer, but as the person who would probably be most affected by her death. If Samantha was the best fit for an operation he would send her and try to keep his stomach out of his throat until she came back unharmed.
It was when she didn't that things got complicated, and that was one of the reasons they were in this situation now.
He heard three knocks and the door open. No need to look up. "Come in, Danny."
"Hey boss. HR sent these up for you. I think they're personnel files."
"Thanks. You can leave them on my desk."
Danny crossed the room and placed the files on the corner; when he lingered, Jack looked up. "Can I help you?"
"It just doesn't make sense to me that we have to hire and train another agent for this unit when someone with experience is out there."
"Great, send them in."
"Jack…"
"Samantha is gone. It'd be best for all of us to just move on."
Danny waited a moment before trying again. "Is there anything stopping you from appealing?"
"Appealing what? Samantha's decision to leave?"
"She left before she knew Melissa was going to quit."
"Yes, and the job still isn't open to her." He put down his pen. "Besides, she's had a promotion and currently makes about $15,000 a year more than you do. She probably wouldn't want to come back even if she could."
"You could try."
Jack removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "You don't know the facts."
"I think I do."
The two men looked at each other before Jack motioned at the door. "I have work to do."
Danny turned and walked out, and Jack stared at the stack of files before returning his attention to the transfer request. The rational side of him knew that there was an agent in those files capable of filling the spot that Melissa had just vacated. An agent with more experience than Samantha had when he had brought her onto his team.
That same rational side also knew that going to Van Doran would be pointless. A decision had been made, and control of the situation had left his hands even before the first meeting where Samantha had been sent to Washington. Probably before phone calls and access codes had started raising the eyebrows of people who seemingly already knew where to look.
There was nothing to say she'd come back even if the job was offered to her. She had left and hadn't looked back. He had made his overture with the plane ticket, and the most practical thing for him to do would be to let her go.
The screensaver on his monitor kicked in and he realized he had forgotten what he was working on.
He had made his overture and she hadn't called, hadn't written. Nothing to indicate he was even in her thoughts.
Pushing back his chair, he grabbed the transfer request and slid the file of the one person most qualified for the position from the drawer to his right.
She hadn't called, hadn't written, so why was he about to make one final overture?
"No."
"Come on, Paula."
Van Doran stood from her chair and walked around the front of her desk to face Jack. "Armstrong's transfer request took us all by surprise, but trust me when I say she is replaceable. There's no reason to rebuild old bridges."
"Even when doing so might be the most beneficial thing for the unit?"
"There's absolutely nothing to indicate that's the case here, Jack."
"Look at this objectively. There's an agent with four years experience in missing persons work. One that has worked with this specific unit and has a high proficiency rating. An agent who works well with this team…"
"A little too well. That's my concern."
"I'll make sure to tell the victims that we would have found them sooner, but we have a strict policy against hiring agents that might be the best fit for the task force," Jack responded, not breaking eye contact.
"You know what I mean."
"Do I?"
"300 new agents graduate every year at Quantico. I just think it might be a more prudent decision to find one that you haven't had a sexual relationship with."
"And you're basing this entire process on that?"
Van Doran shook her head. "I know this tends to get forgotten on your team, but the Bureau does have regulations. Procedures to follow. What's next? Firing a weapon at an unarmed suspect? I don't care if IA catches Fitzgerald stealing number two pencils from the supply cabinet. You break the rules, you're going to pay the consequences."
Jack looked down to where his hands rested in his lap. Keeping his voice level, he tried to play the numbers. "I realize Agent Armstrong was only with us a short time, but our solve rate compared to a year ago is down."
"That's completely subjective."
"And Melissa's performance evaluation for the quarter didn't come close to Samantha's."
"The performance evaluation that you administered? I somehow doubt Human Resources will be swayed by that."
Jack couldn't help but smirk. "They should. I actually scored Samantha low in a few categories in order to avoid suspicion."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
"Okay."
"I like Spade, and I won't deny she seemed to be an asset to this job. What you can't deny is that you can't maintain objectivity in a situation where she is involved." Her voice was lower now.
"The Mashburn situation again? You must not have read the press release. All the hostages lived, we recovered the missing woman, and brought an armed kidnapper to justice. Maybe if I hadn't slept with Agent Spade we could have held the arraignment right there in the bookstore and made more efficient use of the FBI's time."
She didn't say anything for a long moment. "If I go to bat for you on this, there are a couple things of which I have to be certain."
For the first time since he had been in this office 12 weeks ago, he saw daylight. "Such as?"
"That Spade is agreeable to returning to her old position. She's been remediated to a new assignment, one on a higher pay grade. I don't want to stick my neck out on this only to have her decide she doesn't want to take a demotion and pay cut."
When she put it that way, it sounded incredibly selfish. Samantha was on the fast track and he was about to derail what could be a meteoric rise up a ladder that most young female agents could never get near. Perhaps it was selfish, but his guilt was tempered by the knowledge that she would jump at the opportunity to return. There was no doubt in his mind, and he spoke with confidence. "She'll come back."
Van Doran raised a finger in the air as she looked at a file that likely had nothing to do with their current conversation. "And second…"
"Yes?"
"I want your word that whatever the two of you had before is in the past."
If anything good had come out of the last few months, it had been the freedom that he and Samantha had been allowed. Free from work and his marriage, for the first time the clandestine nature of their relationship had transformed into one with a certain amount of validity. It had been freeing to be able to touch her in public and not have to worry about the potential effects on his career and hers, not have to worry about waking up to find her gone, her exit necessitated in order for her make it across the city and into work without raising suspicion. It was tiring, unable to commit to a relationship because to do so would be like committing a crime.
To deny his feelings now would be to give up the possibility of a real relationship with Samantha. It would put them back right at the beginning.
He wondered if somehow that wasn't worse than where they were right now-- the end.
"It's over."
Van Doran didn't blink. "I want your word, Jack."
"And you have it. "
She looked back down at the file before addressing him again. "I'm serious. If she's allowed to return to this office I don't want to see you so much as open a door for her, do you understand? She won't get a second chance and I'll have you making copies down in Finance."
"Fine."
"I'll do my best."
"Thank you." Jack stood quickly, as if she might change her mind in the 10 feet between his chair and the exit.
"Off the record?"
"I wasn't aware we were on the record."
"Off the record, I don't want to see you screw this up. I don't care what you do with Spade in the off-hours; if it enters this office I will go straight to Cameron."
He nodded, feeling like he had both lost and found his soul in one brief meeting.
For the second time that day a transfer request rested on his desk, Samantha's name typed neatly across the front and Paula Van Doran's signature scrawled neatly at the bottom. There was another signature there, one he didn't recognize, and he wondered how many strings Paula had to pull in order to find someone high enough in the hierarchy to authorize the transfer, but out of the loop enough not to have heard the rumors about Jack Malone and his inability to keep his personal life personal.
Reaching for his pen, he signed on one of the two remaining lines. The third signature of four required to restore the team, the office, and his life back to the way it was before she had left for Washington.
Picking up the phone, he dialed her office number in D.C. It rang several times and he was about to hang up when she answered. "Spade."
"Hey, it's me."
There was a pause on the line and he wondered for a moment if the connection had been lost. "Samantha?"
"Sorry, I'm here."
"Is everything okay?"
"I'm just busy. What's up?" Her voice was distant, distracted.
"I wasn't sure you'd still be at this number."
"I don't leave for New Orleans until next week. Still some loose ends to tie up here."
"Oh."
Papers rustled in the background. "I don't mean to be rude, but I have a lot going on today. Can I call you back in a bit?"
Her tone was brusque, almost cold, and Jack suddenly found himself wishing he wasn't working on a deadline. "Actually, I have to talk to you about something. It's fairly important."
The background noise stopped. "Okay."
"I talked to Van Doran this morning and they're prepared to offer you your job back." The words left his mouth quickly, which made the resulting silence all the more interminable. "Sam?"
"I heard you."
"Well?"
"What about Melissa?"
"She's leaving."
"This is pretty sudden."
"I know, but you wouldn't have to report here for close to a week, which should leave you plenty of time to get things in order. I could…"
"I can't."
Of all the responses he had envisioned, none of them had ended like this. "What?"
"I can't go back. I'm finally moving on, Jack, and I think you should, too." Her brusque tone had softened, but hadn't lost its firm edge. "I hate to do this to you, but I really need to get to this meeting."
"We need to talk about this. I'll call you back tonight."
More silence. "Can we do it tomorrow? I have plans tonight."
"With who?"
"You wouldn't know him."
Him. Jack suddenly felt sick. "I guess some of us have moved on faster than others."
"It's not like that." She sighed. "I need to go. I'll try to call you tomorrow."
There was a click on the line, and he decided then that he wouldn't be calling.
She wasn't coming back.
The next 48 hours passed as if he was in a daze; there wasn't any anger this time, just a pervasive emptiness that left him numb and going through the motions at work. If the others noticed, they didn't say anything. He caught Danny staring more than once, and Jack wondered if Samantha had been in contact with him at all.
Tempted to make the trip himself, he had sent Vivian and Martin to Connecticut on a series of leads on their latest case. His bag had been packed that morning when he decided that trying to run from himself wasn't going to help. If he was going to move on, it was going to start with his daily routine.
That same routine had him turning his key in the lock of his apartment more out of habit than necessity, but for the first time he found himself not seeking refuge in his work. He started to wonder if he was depressed before realizing he could think of only a handful of occasions in the last year where he hadn't been.
Pushing the door open, he was hanging his keys next to the door when he saw her.
She was lying on his couch, knees bent, eyes closed, her hair down and obscuring part of her face. It appeared she had come directly from work, her black jacket and skirt in sharp contrast to the beige cushions. The sight was unexpected, and for an irrational moment he contemplated walking right back out the door. Standing in place for several seconds, he slowly crossed the floor and stood at the end of the couch before reaching down and shaking her ankle lightly. When her leg retracted at the contact, but she didn't open her eyes, he tried again. "Sam?"
She looked disoriented for a moment, and he waited while she focused on him. "Oh, hey."
"What are you doing here?" he asked, skipping the pleasantries.
"You gave me a key, remember?"
"And what, you decided to fly up here and take a nap?"
"Sorry about that. I didn't sleep too well last night."
"Why are you here, Samantha?" Surprise was turning to irritation now.
"I wanted to talk to you."
Jack took a seat across from her, but didn't meet her eyes.
"I almost didn't come," she started slowly. "I wasn't going to call, and everything was packed. I had signed the lease for the new apartment; all I had left to do was fax it."
"What changed your mind?"
"I was going through my carry-on and found the ticket you had given me. I had forgotten about it, actually; almost threw it away on the plane ride home."
He nodded. "Why didn't you?"
"I don't know."
"Why are you here now?"
"Because I almost threw it away."
Squinting at her, he shifted onto the couch. "You're not making sense."
"I realized I was leaving not because I wanted to go, but because you wanted me to stay."
It was starting to fall into place. "And that frightened you."
"In a way. I've always set the boundaries for my relationships in the past." She paused, as if wondering how much to say. "In high school, I had a boyfriend. He was the first guy I really dated, the first guy I slept with. I didn't love him, but he helped me fit in. He was star of the football team, president of the ROTC. It was a small town, and he was on his way out. I saw him as a means of escape, really."
Jack didn't say anything, wanting her to continue. She did.
"Well, in our senior year he was offered a full scholarship to the University of Nebraska. His parents wanted him to join the military like his father. He felt trapped, so I brought up another option."
"You married him."
"I got away from my parents, he got his scholarship, and we were divorced by finals."
"Why is it you've never told me this before?"
She smirked. "It's not exactly a story I'm proud of."
"So what does this have to do with us?"
Looking up, she stared at him. "I was going to stay with you here…"
"…until I asked you."
"I didn't want to stay and then six months or a year from now have you second-guessing this. Wondering if you gave up one life for another where you're equally unhappy. At least if I made the decision, you could resent me, but I could take the blame. I wasn't going to be responsible for ruining your career, too."
"Did you ever stop to think that the opposite might be true? That you might be taking the choice out of my hands? You have no right to decide what's right for me."
"I do when it involves me."
"You don't want this?"
"That's why I'm here."
"What changed your mind?"
"I guess I figured the more distance I put between us, the easier it would be to let go, you know? I had resigned myself to a new life, and somehow I convinced myself it was what I really wanted." She looked at him. "I had gotten pretty far. Then you called. After I hung up the phone, I realized it wasn't far enough."
Jack couldn't look at her now, knowing that her answer would change everything before he even asked the question. "So you're accepting the job offer?"
"I'm accepting your offer."
His eyes met hers, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. "Are you sure?"
"If you're sure. This will put us right back where we were. I mean, I can take the job, but there's nothing to say we can even spend time with each other outside the office. Are you willing to live with that?"
"I think I'm willing to take the risk. Besides, I think Van Doran gave us her veiled blessing."
"Veiled by what?"
"Threat of immediate termination."
Samantha smirked. "You have the most to lose."
His job, the stability of his life in New York. Pending divorce or no, he had responsibilities that went deeper than her career.
"Yes, I do." Covering her hand with his, he leaned back into the cushion. He had the most to lose, but he wasn't about to lose it again.
"We could set some ground rules."
"No."
She looked up from where their hands now rested on her thigh. "Jack…"
"Ground rules? Fine. It stays out of work."
The job had always been detrimental to his relationships. With his wife. With his children. With friends and the contacts he had made through the years. There was no shortage of irony in that his relationship with Samantha had probably been the healthiest he had been able to maintain. Shared midnight takeout over case files had developed into an improbable friendship. Anything physical had been an extension of that, and Jack saw no reason why the opposite couldn't be true. Full circle.
"That's it?"
"I don't want this to be defined by our jobs."
"So where does that leave us?"
"Wherever you want it to."
"My old apartment is gone. I'll have to find somewhere else to live."
"You could stay here."
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure that won't clue anyone in at work."
"Just until you find something else." At her skeptical look, he continued. "It's the most practical thing to do."
"As long as it's practical."
Her smile was genuine, and Jack wondered how just an hour ago he had resolved himself to a life without her. He moved his other arm from the back of the couch to trail his fingers along the nape of her neck. "So who was the guy?"
"Who?" A look of confusion crossed her features.
"On the phone. You said you had plans."
She cut him a sideways glance. "My hairdresser."
"You could have cleared that up."
"I didn't really see the point."
Pulling her head down to his shoulder, he pressed a kiss into her hair. "I missed you."
"Me too."
They remained like that for several minutes before Jack looked at his watch. "I didn't realize how late it was. It's my night with the girls."
"I should go anyway. I have a lot of loose ends to tie up."
He grabbed her wrist as she reached for her shoes. "I'm just going to pick them up and take them to get dinner and ice cream. I'd like you to come."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."
Her eyes were wide and Jack had to suppress a grin. "If you're going to be part of my life, that means being a part of the girls' lives as well."
"Won't Marie have issues with that?"
"She'll have to get used to it. She filed for a divorce three days ago."
She turned toward him quickly. "You didn't tell me that."
"To be fair, you really didn't give me the chance."
"So that's it? It's over?"
He stood and reached his hand out to her, pulling her to her feet. "It's over."
Her expression of disbelief was replaced by something more inscrutable as she searched his face for any sign that after years of being defined by their relationship, that they hadn't just overcome that last, and largest, obstacle. Her hands went around his waist and she met his lips in a short kiss before relaxing into his embrace.
Stepping away, he headed for the door. "I'll be back soon."
"Okay, I'll just unpack a few things."
"Bye."
She gave him a bright smile. "Bye."
Almost through the door, he almost missed her next words. "I love you."
"Me too." His response was immediate; he hadn't fully registered what she had said.
It was the first time she had said the words, and in this apartment, this night, he had reason to believe they wouldn't be the last.
Now, coming back to New York, she was returning to a relationship with her supervisor, but for the first time the future seemed somewhat clear.
Twelve hours ago, Samantha had been preparing for yet another new life 1200 miles away.
Twelve weeks ago, she had been forced to say goodbye to her life for the very reasons she was standing here now.
"…and where was he? Getting a latte."
"You're making that up." Samantha rolled her eyes as she walked back to her desk.
"I'm not!" Danny turned to Martin, who was standing at the end of the table. "Am I?"
"He wouldn't lie." Martin said, deadpan.
"Now I know you're making it up."
Vivian approached. "He just doesn't want to give you the impression that the exciting cases left when you did."
"He's doing a great job."
"Okay, people." Jack walked through the office and took his normal spot at the head of the briefing table. "19 year old female disappeared from her NYU dorm room. She was last seen yesterday morning, and her parents haven't heard from her in 48 hours. That gives us a window about 24-36 hours to work with."
"Any friends or roommates?" Vivian asked.
"None that can shed any light on the situation. I'd like you to go to the college and see what you can dig up."
"Okay."
"Samantha, Martin…check out the parents. See if they can give you any history that might put some pieces together." Handing her the file, his fingers brushed against hers. It might have been intentional; he wasn't sure himself.
She smiled.
Nothing--and everything--had changed.
FIN.
