Title: Walk Away
Author: Kate Anderson
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I'm just borrowing them and playing with them for a while.
**
Samantha Spade ran a brush through her tangled hair and stuffed her nylons into her purse. With bare feet, she tiptoed across the wooden floor and opened the front door. She cringed as the hinges squeaked and then with a soft click, she was gone.
Three years, two months. That's how long it had been since she'd left New York.
Two years, eleven months. That's how long it had been since Jack had died.
She called Washington home now and had a cubicle in the J. Edgar Hoover building. Look ma, I finally made the big time.
The inside of her car was cold, Sam turned the ignition and let the heater and defrost run for a while. Her eyes felt gritty and she longed for a shower. The car was still sputtering as the engine tried to warm up but Sam threw it into drive and backed out onto the snow covered road.
She and Martin still had the occasional conversation that consisted mainly of, Hey...what's up? and other trivial details such as the weather. Samantha didn't give a rat's ass if it was raining in New York but it was nice to talk to someone who really seemed to care about her. She suspected that Martin had never quite gotten over his crush on her.
Danny had moved to San Diego for reasons that Sam could not fathom. Last she'd heard, Vivian was still doggedly working the missing person's unit with Martin. The old-timers, they were.
She was supposed to be at the office now and seated in her cubicle, staring at a computer screen while pretending that she was doing something useful. Instead she was trying to avoid black ice after leaving her lover's house.
Once a mistress, always a mistress. Busy and unavailable, just the way she liked 'em.
Sam arrived at her tiny apartment and kicked off her pumps. They skittered across the lino of her kitchen that needed to be cleaned.
"Hey," Sam said, addressing her fish. "I bet you're hungry."
Jack, for that was her fish's name, opened and closed his mouth and gave her a sad look. Sam tapped some food from a small container into the water and pursed her lips, examining Jack closely.
The fish was Jack the fifth. The first one being her Jack, the namesake and the other three being unfortunate victims of neglect. Sam was sure that a fish support group was going to come barging through her doors any minute now and arrest her.
Jack took a few small nibbles of his food before swimming to the bottom of the tank again. He gave her a mournful look and hid behind a plant.
"Sorry buddy," Sam murmured. "Maybe I should get you a friend."
And she would name it Sam, after herself.
~*~
Sam brushed her hand over the nameplate on the outside of her cubicle. Samantha Spade, special agent and office whore. There was a pile of papers on her desk, just waiting to be sorted through and tossed into the blue box by her feet.
She sat down in her chair and tapped a few keys on her keyboard. You have no new messages. No one bothered to send her the office gossip - she was the office gossip.
"Ah, Samantha...late as usual, I see."
James but you can call me Jimmy after a few beers, was her boss. She had slept with him once and he hadn't been the same since.
"I had to feed my fish," Sam muttered and picked up the stack of papers.
"Meeting at eleven in the conference room. Don't be late." James said and winked at her.
Samantha buttoned up the last button on her blouse and sent James an icy stare. He smirked and disappeared. She set the papers down again and idly pushed her mouse around on the screen.
The one photograph in her cubicle stared at Sam, the eyes of the dog unblinking. It was the picture that came with the frame.
~*~
"Jack Malone..."
"Agent Malone..."
Samantha stiffened upon hearing the whispered name. Why were they talking about him? Why now? Her ears morphed into radar dishes and she attempted to swivel them toward the source of the voices.
He's dead, Sam thought.
"Agent Malone is dead..."
Sam glanced at the clock on the computer screen. Ten minutes to eleven. The voices had vanished, leaving Jack's name ringing in Sam's ears.
She had thought Jack was ancient history. Just another agent buried under the stars and stripes. She thought about his girls from time to time.
The pile of papers had been thrown into the blue box, ready to head through the shredder. Using the shredder was one of the perks of this job. Eight minutes to eleven. She could induce simultaneous heart attacks and be early for a change.
Sam stood up, smoothing down her wrinkled skirt. Her iron was broken. Probably happened when she threw it across the room. The conference room was on the floor below hers and rather than wait for the elevator, Sam took the stairs.
"Agent Spade, you're early. What a pleasant surprise."
Samantha looked suspiciously around the room that was empty save herself and James. She wasn't in the mood to polish the table again. "Is this really a meeting?"
"You, myself and someone else," James replied. "He's running a bit behind, I'm afraid."
Sam slumped down in a high backed chair. James leaned against the table and smugly crossed his arms. He wasn't even all that handsome.
"Could you at least tell me what this is about?"
Sam wondered if she was being let go. Could they do that? We're sorry Samantha, but it's not working out for you here at the Hoover building.
"I'm afraid that I can't," James replied. "But you'll know once he gets here."
Sam held her hand in front of her face and pretended to give a shit about her nails. The red polish was chipped and she had lost her polish remover.
"Sorry I'm late..."
Sam's hand fell to her lap.
"There was an accident..."
You're dead. He's dead. Samantha felt herself falling and she couldn't hold on.
~*~
Her eyes opened slowly and she marvelled at how much Jack the fish looked like his namesake. Jack the namesake seemed to opening and closing his mouth.
".....okay? Samantha?"
A cup of water was pushed into her hand but she was shaking so badly that the water ended up down the front of her shirt and onto her skirt.
"Could you leave us alone?" Jack spoke to someone behind him and looked pleased when that someone, presumably James, obeyed his wishes.
With a tissue that he had produced from nowhere, Jack began to wipe at the water on Sam's blouse.
"You're supposed to be dead." she said, rather stupidly.
"Ain't that a bitch." Jack replied, dabbing at her skirt now.
"But you're not?"
"Does it look like I am?"
Sam put her hand over his. "No."
Jack threw the wet tissue into a trash can and sat down in a chair, which he wheeled over to her. His knees were touching hers. "It's a long story..."
~*~
"So you just walked away?"
"I had to, Sam."
Samantha shrugged and tried to pretend as though her dead former lover hadn't just come strolling into the conference room. "I think...I think I understand."
Stuff like this happened every day.
If you were Mulder and Scully.
"I'm sorry," Jack whispered. "I've been keeping tabs on you...I really had no idea that any of this would have happened..."
Jack didn't need to say anything. Sam understood. He had no idea that she would become emotionally unstable, prone to violent outbursts and promiscuity.
"So you're undead now?"
Jack looked pretty damn good for having just crawled out of his grave. "Yeah, I'm undead."
"I think I need to go home," Samantha said. "I have to feed my fish."
~*~
Jack stared at Jack. "I can't believe that you named your fish after me."
"Who says he's named after you?"
"He's very handsome, for a fish, so he must be named after me."
Samantha pushed aside a pile of laundry on her sofa and found her nail polish remover. "So does everyone know that you weren't dead?"
Jack shook his head and gingerly picked up something that resembled a hamster. "When was the last time you cleaned your apartment?"
"Yesterday and that's a no, no one knew that you weren't dead?"
"Having people know would sort of ruin the whole idea of being dead, don't you think?" Jack opened the window and threw the hamster shaped object out.
"But what about your wife...and the girls?"
"Don't think this hasn't been the hardest thing I've ever had to do, Sam."
~*~
It was the first genuine laugh that Sam had laughed in over three years and it felt good. She grabbed another slice of pizza, her hand brushing Jack's as he reached for a slice at the same time.
"How long are you staying?"
"Until tomorrow."
"Can I call Martin and let him know?"
Jack shook his head. "I thought you understood,"
Sam threw the pizza down onto a stained napkin on her lap. "I do, I just don't like it. Why even bother coming to see me if you just have to go back to being dead?"
Jack shrugged. "I guess I wanted to say hello."
Sam turned her gaze on the snow falling outside. It was coming down in clumps. Wet snow. She shuddered. Jack's finger traced the line of her jaw and moved down onto her neck.
She pressed her lips against his and realized that she was crying.
~*~
Samantha slipped out of bed and grabbed her skirt from its place on the back of the chair. Her blouse was at the foot of the bed.
She left quietly, not wanting to wake him up. It was snowing outside and she had to scrape the windows of her car.
She thought of Jack as she brushed the snow from the roof and of the kiss that tasted like ham and peperoni and mushrooms.
"Shit," she muttered as she felt the tears threaten to fall. "It was just a dream."
She slid on black ice on her way to the office.
~*~
"Is Jack Malone really dead?"
"Is who really dead?" James, her boss, looked confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Special Agent Jack Malone! Was he really killed three years ago?"
"Your old boss?"
Samantha nodded.
"Of course he's dead."
Sam nodded again. "Thank you," she whispered. "I think I have to go home. I have to feed my fish."
~*~
Her car spun out of control and slammed into a passing SUV.
Special Agent Samantha Spade died on impact.
Jack the fish died a few days later...of a broken heart.