TITLE: Only Thing Missing

AUTHOR: Blaze

RATING/SPOILERS: PG.  Spoiler for Copycat.

SUMMARY: She wishes she'd never asked. J/S

DISCLAIMER: Ooh, I own… nothing. Hank Steinberg owns 'em.

A/Ns: This is a thought I had during Copycat and couldn't let go.  Supposed to be pre-C, and any confusion about pronouns… My apologies. Much love to Maple Street, you all are awesome and I'm lucky to be among you all. Enjoy!

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Then, it had been an innocent question, just something she was curious about, something she wanted to know.

Now, she wishes she'd never asked.

Because you can't take back "What about your mother?" when you're laying in the dark with a man you aren't supposed be with.  And you can't help but hurt for him when he tenses and can't answer.

She wishes she had never asked because she hadn't known, because it is so private, because he cries.

And because it kills her to watch his face and eyes and soul change when he talks about finding her in that car the first time, how he hadn't wanted to keep quiet, but wanted to believe her so badly when she said it wouldn't happen again.  That she just needed some time.  That right now she felt so alone and so lost and just wanted to make every negative thought in her head and that heavy numbness and the pain that pulsed through her with every beat of her heart just stop, but she knew—she knew, Sam—that it wouldn't be long before she got back to normal.  One of these days, she'd snap right out of it, just like she had before.  Don't you worry about me, Jack.  I'll be okay.

How she seemed to get back to normal.  How she started smiling again, joked around, teased him and his father.  But he knew now that it's easy to fake that, easy to pretend you're just fine, nothing's wrong—and how easy it is to see that when you want to believe it.

He tells her about coming home to silence, clicking on the TV because the lack of sound was overwhelming, how he thinks he wondered why she wasn't there and wondered for just a second if he should check the garage.  How he waited until his father got home and knew something must be wrong, because even his father, as tough as he had been, looked worried when he said he didn't know where Mom was.

His voice breaks when he describes walking to the garage door, opening it and hearing the low rumble of an engine and a stuffed exhaust pipe.  Knowing that he'd been home two hours, and two hours is beyond long enough to—

And when he can't continue, she tells him she's sorry and doesn't speak again, just listening to his tears, to the pain on his breath, listens to him missing her.

And wishes she'd never asked.

Fin.