Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Accept it and move on.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: The Bus
Summary: All Samantha wanted was her gun back.
A/N This was produced off the sheer energy generated from watching the episode. Please pardon any inaccuracies. This goes out to my home away from home, Maple St. Enjoy!
'Chink chink.' The sound of a solitary ring making contact with his glass door echoed through is office. Without glancing up he knew who it was. He made a motion with his hand and she entered.
Her posture was reserved, doubtful even. She wondered if he knew how small he made her feel. All she wanted was to be on his level, for them to see eye to eye. However, in many areas of her life, or their lives, this would never be.
"I can come back some other time if you are to busy," she said quietly, as though she were wary of her voice breaking the tension in his office.
"No, sorry. Let me just finish this up," he looked up briefly. "I don't want to lose my train of thought. Sit," he said the last word as an afterthought, more of a polite gesture than anything else.
She remained standing, fearful that lowering her height would make it more difficult to get her point across.
Looking around she observed recent pictures of his daughters in the frames, although his wife was not among them. She almost winced at the thought of him going back to her. He was married to his children, not his wife.
"I take it you came back for this?" He held he gun in its holster from the tip of his fingers.
She nodded and leaned forward to take it back, but he pulled away in a teasing gesture.
"Nope, not yet," he looked at her seriously. Her face betrayed her thoughts and he continued. "Just because OPR passed you, doesn't mean I think you are fit to go out there."
Her face started to grow hot and the lump that was already in her throat grew larger. When was he going to stop doing this? Could he not trust her? Did he think she was not worthy of this?
Instead of replying, she turned around and took a deep breath. He watched her intently. He knew that she wanted her weapon back, she wanted to regain full status, but her eagerness was what scared him. Jack bent his head down and looked at the smooth leather that housed the weapon.
He wasn't sure what scared him more: the fact that Sam used her gun to take two lives or that the situation itself caused her to use that weapon.
She spun around on her heel with tightness in her voice.
"Jack, what is it going to take for me to get it all back again?"
"Time," he responded nonchalantly. Did he really believe that? Did he want to admit that he never wanted her to leave his sight again? He realized how much she meant to him when she was bleeding to death in that bookstore. He knew then that even though he couldn't have her, he would still do everything in his power to protect her.
She sighed and crossed her arms, her blond hair wrapping around her shoulder.
"Do you trust me?" Samantha asked quickly, almost like she was afraid of the answer.
Jack took off his glasses and plopped them on the desk. He clasped his hands beside his head and looked up at her, directly in the eyes.
"Yes."
"Then what is the problem?"
"There isn't a problem. Samantha, I just need you to take it easy, there is no rush for you to go back out there."
"Like hell there isn't. I am fully capable of doing my job and you know it. All I need is for you to have a little bit of faith in me. This proves that you don't think I can handle a simple assignment. Do I really seem that different to you?"
"Slow down. I think you can handle a lot, but I don't need you going out and taking unnecessary risks."
"I'm in the F.B.I. it's what I do. And who says I take unnecessary risks?"
"No one, but that doesn't mean you won't in the future," His voice was calm and calculated, which only made Samantha more angry. "Given your recent history, you are more prone to be on the aggressive in hostile situations and should one arise, I don't think you would be the best person in that situation."
Her face grew red and she placed her hands firmly on her hips.
"So basically you think that I am incapable of doing my job. That I can't control my emotions enough to execute a simple exercise." She paused and collected her thoughts. "Thanks for believing in me Jack, because coming back was so much easier with you on my side."
Her words bit him sharply. He thought what he was doing was right. He was right. She needed to learn how to taper her emotions before exploding at people. Especially her boss.
She turned quickly and headed towards the door, a virtual cloud of smoke coming out of her ears.
"Samantha," he said with a tone of authority. She didn't stop. She kept walking, past Danny, past Vivian. He watched her sit down at her desk and take in a few deep breaths. She then turned towards Vivian and asked for a file, then went back to work.
She didn't pitch a fit or throw anything. She didn't grab her stuff and leave. The old Samantha would have done that. That would have been her point to prove. He didn't know if she was proving a point or if she was doing her job now, but either way, she had made one.
He never thought his decisions could be misconstrued in such a way. He felt that he had been supportive of her. Telling her that Martin would accompany her wasn't more of an issue of her capability, but more of him knowing that she was in safe hands. After she took out those two guys, Jack knew that nothing was safe anymore. It was a false sense of protection that he was trying to provide, and if not for her, for his own selfish reasons.
He sat there for another hour, contemplating what should be done. Maybe protection wasn't what she needed after all. She was the one that said she needed him behind her. Maybe all she needs is support and for someone to believe, that even though she makes mistakes, she is still a good agent. It is what she has worked for, and strived to achieve for so long.
Not once had he ever told her that he was proud of her. Nor had he ever said that she was a good agent. He didn't complement people like that. It wasn't his style. He never thought to consider what it was that she needed from him: validation.
Sam shut her drawer with a little more force than she intended. It was more than just the gun. That was only a symbolic gesture. If OPR found her free of any residual effects, then why couldn't he? She knew their standards were higher than his, and she passed their questioning without too much trouble.
The paragraph in front of her had no meaning. All the words jumbled up together and she couldn't discern a simple phrase among them. Her frustration had reached its threshold and now the tears were beginning to build in her eyes. The last thing she wanted was another reason for Jack to doubt her.
She pinched the top of her nose, her fingertips stopping the flow of tears falling from her eyes. A few deep breaths later, she pulled her hand away and brushed her hair back from her face. Her jaw was set in determination as she began digesting the information in front of her.
He would not win. Jack had taken a good many things from her, but her confidence - that he could not have. It was all she had left. Right now, all she could do was suck it up and move on.
She glanced around and realized Martin and Danny were gone. Unlike her, they were allowed to go out. Vivian sat at her desk, deep in concentration. Samantha did not dare look in Jack's direction.
His footsteps were uneven as he placed his weight on his stronger leg. The click of his shoes against the marble floor was distinctive, emitting a light clip followed by a heavy thud. Jack saw Vivian sitting at her desk, speaking on the phone in a professional voice. Samantha was busy using her favorite highlighter as evidenced by the striped sheets of paper that lay on her desk.
As he neared her desk, he could see her stiffen. It saddened him to know his presence had that effect on her. He glanced back at Vivian then placed both hands on Samantha's desk, virtually trapping her as his arms surrounded her. She stopped reading and took in a sharp breath. Beneath his right hand was her gun - her savior and betrayer.
Chills went up her spine as she felt his warm breath on her cheek. His hands maintained their position on her desk, and all she could do was sit there, hopelessly paralyzed.
"I've always been on your side, Samantha. Always."
He pushed off from her desk and headed back towards his office, his distinctive step marking his passage through the bullpen. He knew she would still be staring at her gun, her hands most likely feeling the soft leather than enclosed the weapon.
As he sat down at his desk, he knew he made the right decision. She was a prime example of a true agent. It only took a few years for him to realize it. No matter what, he would believe in her.
She placed her weapon back on the desk and looked straight ahead. As her head rested on the palms of her hands, all she could think was one thing.
All you need is to have a little faith.
A/N This was produced off the sheer energy generated from watching the episode. Please pardon any inaccuracies. This goes out to my home away from home, Maple St. Enjoy!
'Chink chink.' The sound of a solitary ring making contact with his glass door echoed through is office. Without glancing up he knew who it was. He made a motion with his hand and she entered.
Her posture was reserved, doubtful even. She wondered if he knew how small he made her feel. All she wanted was to be on his level, for them to see eye to eye. However, in many areas of her life, or their lives, this would never be.
"I can come back some other time if you are to busy," she said quietly, as though she were wary of her voice breaking the tension in his office.
"No, sorry. Let me just finish this up," he looked up briefly. "I don't want to lose my train of thought. Sit," he said the last word as an afterthought, more of a polite gesture than anything else.
She remained standing, fearful that lowering her height would make it more difficult to get her point across.
Looking around she observed recent pictures of his daughters in the frames, although his wife was not among them. She almost winced at the thought of him going back to her. He was married to his children, not his wife.
"I take it you came back for this?" He held he gun in its holster from the tip of his fingers.
She nodded and leaned forward to take it back, but he pulled away in a teasing gesture.
"Nope, not yet," he looked at her seriously. Her face betrayed her thoughts and he continued. "Just because OPR passed you, doesn't mean I think you are fit to go out there."
Her face started to grow hot and the lump that was already in her throat grew larger. When was he going to stop doing this? Could he not trust her? Did he think she was not worthy of this?
Instead of replying, she turned around and took a deep breath. He watched her intently. He knew that she wanted her weapon back, she wanted to regain full status, but her eagerness was what scared him. Jack bent his head down and looked at the smooth leather that housed the weapon.
He wasn't sure what scared him more: the fact that Sam used her gun to take two lives or that the situation itself caused her to use that weapon.
She spun around on her heel with tightness in her voice.
"Jack, what is it going to take for me to get it all back again?"
"Time," he responded nonchalantly. Did he really believe that? Did he want to admit that he never wanted her to leave his sight again? He realized how much she meant to him when she was bleeding to death in that bookstore. He knew then that even though he couldn't have her, he would still do everything in his power to protect her.
She sighed and crossed her arms, her blond hair wrapping around her shoulder.
"Do you trust me?" Samantha asked quickly, almost like she was afraid of the answer.
Jack took off his glasses and plopped them on the desk. He clasped his hands beside his head and looked up at her, directly in the eyes.
"Yes."
"Then what is the problem?"
"There isn't a problem. Samantha, I just need you to take it easy, there is no rush for you to go back out there."
"Like hell there isn't. I am fully capable of doing my job and you know it. All I need is for you to have a little bit of faith in me. This proves that you don't think I can handle a simple assignment. Do I really seem that different to you?"
"Slow down. I think you can handle a lot, but I don't need you going out and taking unnecessary risks."
"I'm in the F.B.I. it's what I do. And who says I take unnecessary risks?"
"No one, but that doesn't mean you won't in the future," His voice was calm and calculated, which only made Samantha more angry. "Given your recent history, you are more prone to be on the aggressive in hostile situations and should one arise, I don't think you would be the best person in that situation."
Her face grew red and she placed her hands firmly on her hips.
"So basically you think that I am incapable of doing my job. That I can't control my emotions enough to execute a simple exercise." She paused and collected her thoughts. "Thanks for believing in me Jack, because coming back was so much easier with you on my side."
Her words bit him sharply. He thought what he was doing was right. He was right. She needed to learn how to taper her emotions before exploding at people. Especially her boss.
She turned quickly and headed towards the door, a virtual cloud of smoke coming out of her ears.
"Samantha," he said with a tone of authority. She didn't stop. She kept walking, past Danny, past Vivian. He watched her sit down at her desk and take in a few deep breaths. She then turned towards Vivian and asked for a file, then went back to work.
She didn't pitch a fit or throw anything. She didn't grab her stuff and leave. The old Samantha would have done that. That would have been her point to prove. He didn't know if she was proving a point or if she was doing her job now, but either way, she had made one.
He never thought his decisions could be misconstrued in such a way. He felt that he had been supportive of her. Telling her that Martin would accompany her wasn't more of an issue of her capability, but more of him knowing that she was in safe hands. After she took out those two guys, Jack knew that nothing was safe anymore. It was a false sense of protection that he was trying to provide, and if not for her, for his own selfish reasons.
He sat there for another hour, contemplating what should be done. Maybe protection wasn't what she needed after all. She was the one that said she needed him behind her. Maybe all she needs is support and for someone to believe, that even though she makes mistakes, she is still a good agent. It is what she has worked for, and strived to achieve for so long.
Not once had he ever told her that he was proud of her. Nor had he ever said that she was a good agent. He didn't complement people like that. It wasn't his style. He never thought to consider what it was that she needed from him: validation.
Sam shut her drawer with a little more force than she intended. It was more than just the gun. That was only a symbolic gesture. If OPR found her free of any residual effects, then why couldn't he? She knew their standards were higher than his, and she passed their questioning without too much trouble.
The paragraph in front of her had no meaning. All the words jumbled up together and she couldn't discern a simple phrase among them. Her frustration had reached its threshold and now the tears were beginning to build in her eyes. The last thing she wanted was another reason for Jack to doubt her.
She pinched the top of her nose, her fingertips stopping the flow of tears falling from her eyes. A few deep breaths later, she pulled her hand away and brushed her hair back from her face. Her jaw was set in determination as she began digesting the information in front of her.
He would not win. Jack had taken a good many things from her, but her confidence - that he could not have. It was all she had left. Right now, all she could do was suck it up and move on.
She glanced around and realized Martin and Danny were gone. Unlike her, they were allowed to go out. Vivian sat at her desk, deep in concentration. Samantha did not dare look in Jack's direction.
His footsteps were uneven as he placed his weight on his stronger leg. The click of his shoes against the marble floor was distinctive, emitting a light clip followed by a heavy thud. Jack saw Vivian sitting at her desk, speaking on the phone in a professional voice. Samantha was busy using her favorite highlighter as evidenced by the striped sheets of paper that lay on her desk.
As he neared her desk, he could see her stiffen. It saddened him to know his presence had that effect on her. He glanced back at Vivian then placed both hands on Samantha's desk, virtually trapping her as his arms surrounded her. She stopped reading and took in a sharp breath. Beneath his right hand was her gun - her savior and betrayer.
Chills went up her spine as she felt his warm breath on her cheek. His hands maintained their position on her desk, and all she could do was sit there, hopelessly paralyzed.
"I've always been on your side, Samantha. Always."
He pushed off from her desk and headed back towards his office, his distinctive step marking his passage through the bullpen. He knew she would still be staring at her gun, her hands most likely feeling the soft leather than enclosed the weapon.
As he sat down at his desk, he knew he made the right decision. She was a prime example of a true agent. It only took a few years for him to realize it. No matter what, he would believe in her.
She placed her weapon back on the desk and looked straight ahead. As her head rested on the palms of her hands, all she could think was one thing.
All you need is to have a little faith.