"I could tell," he answers. "Come on," he helps me to my feet and into
Detective Connor's car for a lift back to the station to retrieve Jack's
car.
******
We finally get back into Jack's vehicle and he offers to drive, giving me some peace of mind. "You ready for dinner?"
His eyes meet mine and I shrug, not really caring much at all.
"Connor mentioned a small restaurant north of the crime scene. You want to try that?"
"Whatever you think," I whisper, relaxing into the seat cushions.
"We could also order in?"
"No. I could use a real meal," I answer. "Thanks."
He nods his head, turning us into town and up a few blocks till we get to the small, cozy joint on the north side of the woods.
We're escorted to a table and we both take a seat, glancing through the menu before ordering. The waiter comes back twice and we still haven't decided on what we want to eat.
"Maybe it's the case, but I don't have much of an appetite," I eye Jack thoughtfully.
"Me either," he muses. His eyes stare into mine and for a moment I feel as though he's about to confide something, until we're interrupted by someone's loud, high-pitched shrieks from the kitchen. Jack and I both jump up. "We're FBI," he announces, as everyone turns around to see the commotion.
One of the waiters takes us back to show us what's going on.
"It's back here," he says, his eyes wide and his breathing erratic. "Stewart found it in the dumpster."
"Found what?" I calmly question as they open the back door, and the lid to the dumpster, to see a body lying inside and a matching shirt to the sample we found in the forest.
"Shit," Jack gasps out with a sigh, shaking his head as he pulls out his phone and calls the local PD.
After the body's transported and the scene is preserved, Jack and I head back into the restaurant to grab our coats and pay for our sodas.
"How about our usual?" I suggest, eyeing him intently.
"What?" He's slightly confused as to my comment.
"Chinese," I remind him, thinking back to the restaurant and how I have no desire to eat their food.
"Good idea," he adds, as we slip into his car and head back to the hotel.
"I don't get it," I whisper, shaking my head. "Why anyone would do such a thing?"
"We don't know all the details yet," he reminds me. "The local PD are taking over the case and the investigation to find the killer."
"So that's it? We found Damon dead, but we don't find any answers for ourselves?"
"It's not our job," he points out briskly. "Listen, Sam, we can go back in the morning and offer our services. I already called the rest of the team up here. They should be checking into the hotel tonight." He lets out a sigh. "I knew I should have waited to call them."
"Don't blame yourself for that, Jack." I rest my hand on his arm as he nods his head.
We make it back to our rooms, and I grab my bag from the backseat and head into my room. We've left the adjoining doors open and I watch as Jack drops his bag on his bed and lies down with a sigh.
I'm too tired and maybe still too in love to shut the door. I take a seat on my own bed, remembering last night and how he was so great coming into the room and putting me to sleep. I rummage through my bag for my unworn pajamas and head into the bathroom for a quick shower to unwind.
Once I'm finished I slip on my clothes and run a towel through my hair to dry it. The wetness of the locks tangle and fall around my face, as I look at myself in the mirror with a soft, sad smile. It's a messy look, but I personally think it looks cute.
I open the bathroom door, feeling the cool air hitting my lungs as I head into Jack's room.
Immediately as I step through the doorway, his eyes open to meet mine. "You smell good," he muses, taking in a breath of my scent.
"A shower does wonders," I tease with a smile.
"Yeah, I'll say," he grins back, a dangerous dance forming between us. I feel the slow tension brewing and know if I play my cards just right, things will turn out the way I want them to.
I move to take a seat beside him on the bed. "About last night---I wanted to thank you," I whisper, holding his gaze. "I wouldn't have slept nearly as good without your help."
"I know how it is with cases and going over them. I just wish I would have known sooner that you were up. I would have tucked you in earlier," he bites down on his lips at his choice of words and grimaces.
I laugh softly, trying to break the tension and hear the doorbell. Jack moves off the bed, answering the door to see the Chinese food already here.
"You're favorite," he eyes me with a smile, as he pulls out the containers of dinner and we start in.
We take a seat at the small table in his hotel room, grabbing forks and spoons to dish out the food. "Did you call Eva yet?" Jack eyes me curiously as I begin eating.
"Yeah, last night. She's doing good," I answer.
"She looking for a job?"
"She's supposed to be," I smile in response. "Who knows where she's going to work, though," I laugh softly. "How's Maria?" Jack's eyes glance at the food on his plate, his fork turning the noodles as he ponders how to answer. "Jack?"
"Things haven't been so good lately."
"I figured that when she called me on Christmas," I remind him. "You want to talk about it?"
"What's there to talk about? It's an on-again, off-again marriage. Although it's her decision to be this way, she also accuses me of having an affair every time we're 'off' again."
"There's got to be some way to make it up to her."
Jack shakes his head no. "It's not about that. She doesn't agree with the work I do anymore. She thinks it's too time consuming and doesn't understand the dedication it takes to do a job."
"Have you tried talking to her?" I whisper, finally catching his gaze.
"That's the hardest part," he answers with a sigh.
"When I come home at night, it's like talking to a brick wall. All we ever do is fight. I'm fed up with it and I'm out of ideas."
"Jack, I know you want this to work out. Maybe there's other options."
"Like what?" he eyes me intently.
"Marriage counseling?"
"Yeah," he scoffs at the idea. "We tried that. It became too expensive when I couldn't make the appointments because of the job," he lets out a sigh.
"Maybe you should try and find a job that requires less of you. If that's what your marriage needs," I offer.
His eyes glance up into mine. "Maybe," he shrugs, "but this is what I do. This is what I live for." He shakes his head no. "That makes me sound like such a horrible person."
"You're not," I tell him, taking his hand in mine.
"Yes, I am. I've betrayed my wife, I've failed my children."
"Jack," I stop him from such horrible thoughts. "You've done nothing wrong."
"How can you say that? You of all people?" His eyes tear up.
"I don't feel guilty about what we did," I tell him, "and neither should you."
"It was an affair!" he reminds me.
"That's all that it was," I point out. He looks slightly confused, perhaps even hurt. "Wouldn't it have been worse going to a prostitute? Or finding someone at a bar to sleep with for sex? At least you found something you weren't getting at home."
"Sam, don't make this about me," he shakes his head no.
"It is about you, Jack. You deserve all those things, you have a right to be happy."
"You can't ask me to leave her."
"I wouldn't," I answer him. "I would never want to live with that decision," I remind him. "You're dying inside, though, and I see it, Jack."
He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of such thoughts. "It's because of you," he answers as I see his walls crumbling down. I'm not sure if I should feel hurt, ashamed, or used by his words.
"Jack," I whisper, moving my hand over his.
"If I'd have never fallen in love with you, I wouldn't be dying inside with Maria." His eyes are red with tears and he drops my hand and moves to the bathroom to hide his face.
I feel awful inside, but there's nothing I can do to comfort him---not really. What I want to do will only cause me more pain and make it harder to get over him. I bite down on my lower lip and the ultimate decision I need to make.
"Jack?" I knock softly on his bathroom door and hear him unlock it and step out. His tears have mostly dried. It's rare to see him cry, and every time it breaks my heart. I pull him into my arms, soaking in his body and trying to give him what he so desperately needs---love.
I feel his head falling into my chest. "Sam," he breathes out, his tears soaking through my tank top as he holds me close against him.
We move to sit down on the bed and he pulls me to lie down beside him. I feel my stomach in turmoil at the intensity and repercussions this might have. His body nestles along mine, as my hands feel over his back, soothing his breathing.
I glance down to see his eyes dry and his face red. "How did you do it?" He breathes out, his mouth so close and entirely out of reach, given the context of our emotional bond.
"Do what?" I whisper, running my hand through his hair, smiling softly at its length.
"If you really loved me, how did you manage to get over me? I can't for the world forget about you," he tells me.
"Jack, I never forgot about you," I reassure him. "There's things I want now that you won't offer me and I need to look to someone who can."
"Like Martin?" He grimaces at his name and I feel my stomach plummet as well. This feels so right, being in Jack's arms, and yet I know in the morning this will likely never happen again. Do I allow myself to love him one more night and take the chance I'll have longer to wait to get over him?
I smile softly, feeling my heart torn in two directions, and neither feeling the 'right' course of action. "Jack," I press a soft kiss to his cheek and his eyes momentarily close before meeting mine. "Sometimes the only way to move on is to let go."
"Is that what you did?" He eyes me with sad sorrow-filled eyes.
"I--" the words are lost on me and I let out a soft sigh and pause before continuing. "I usually keep from becoming attached to people, Jack, you know that."
"That wasn't the case with me, though, was it?" His eyes hold curiosity and fear that I was only using him as a pawn in such an elaborate game.
"Of course not. You were different. The few I did become attached to I learned to get over because I honestly ended up hating them. It was the only way I could see that I was doing something for the best---letting go."
"So you hated me then?"
"No," I laugh softly, "I could never hate you, Jack. You're the exception."
"So, then how'd you get over me?" His eyes grow heavy from the pain he's endured not from just today, but from his lifetime.
I smile in response, giving him a soft, brief kiss on the lips before pulling a blanket over him and shutting off the light. He lay there, beneath the covers, and doesn't move. I'm not sure if he's asleep just yet, but he doesn't ask me to stay, so I don't.
I grab the cartons and toss them on my way back to my room.
I leave the door ajar, letting Jack come to me during the night if he needs to. I quickly change tops, since the one I'm wearing is soaked through and I slip into bed and close my eyes with a soft breath.
******
We finally get back into Jack's vehicle and he offers to drive, giving me some peace of mind. "You ready for dinner?"
His eyes meet mine and I shrug, not really caring much at all.
"Connor mentioned a small restaurant north of the crime scene. You want to try that?"
"Whatever you think," I whisper, relaxing into the seat cushions.
"We could also order in?"
"No. I could use a real meal," I answer. "Thanks."
He nods his head, turning us into town and up a few blocks till we get to the small, cozy joint on the north side of the woods.
We're escorted to a table and we both take a seat, glancing through the menu before ordering. The waiter comes back twice and we still haven't decided on what we want to eat.
"Maybe it's the case, but I don't have much of an appetite," I eye Jack thoughtfully.
"Me either," he muses. His eyes stare into mine and for a moment I feel as though he's about to confide something, until we're interrupted by someone's loud, high-pitched shrieks from the kitchen. Jack and I both jump up. "We're FBI," he announces, as everyone turns around to see the commotion.
One of the waiters takes us back to show us what's going on.
"It's back here," he says, his eyes wide and his breathing erratic. "Stewart found it in the dumpster."
"Found what?" I calmly question as they open the back door, and the lid to the dumpster, to see a body lying inside and a matching shirt to the sample we found in the forest.
"Shit," Jack gasps out with a sigh, shaking his head as he pulls out his phone and calls the local PD.
After the body's transported and the scene is preserved, Jack and I head back into the restaurant to grab our coats and pay for our sodas.
"How about our usual?" I suggest, eyeing him intently.
"What?" He's slightly confused as to my comment.
"Chinese," I remind him, thinking back to the restaurant and how I have no desire to eat their food.
"Good idea," he adds, as we slip into his car and head back to the hotel.
"I don't get it," I whisper, shaking my head. "Why anyone would do such a thing?"
"We don't know all the details yet," he reminds me. "The local PD are taking over the case and the investigation to find the killer."
"So that's it? We found Damon dead, but we don't find any answers for ourselves?"
"It's not our job," he points out briskly. "Listen, Sam, we can go back in the morning and offer our services. I already called the rest of the team up here. They should be checking into the hotel tonight." He lets out a sigh. "I knew I should have waited to call them."
"Don't blame yourself for that, Jack." I rest my hand on his arm as he nods his head.
We make it back to our rooms, and I grab my bag from the backseat and head into my room. We've left the adjoining doors open and I watch as Jack drops his bag on his bed and lies down with a sigh.
I'm too tired and maybe still too in love to shut the door. I take a seat on my own bed, remembering last night and how he was so great coming into the room and putting me to sleep. I rummage through my bag for my unworn pajamas and head into the bathroom for a quick shower to unwind.
Once I'm finished I slip on my clothes and run a towel through my hair to dry it. The wetness of the locks tangle and fall around my face, as I look at myself in the mirror with a soft, sad smile. It's a messy look, but I personally think it looks cute.
I open the bathroom door, feeling the cool air hitting my lungs as I head into Jack's room.
Immediately as I step through the doorway, his eyes open to meet mine. "You smell good," he muses, taking in a breath of my scent.
"A shower does wonders," I tease with a smile.
"Yeah, I'll say," he grins back, a dangerous dance forming between us. I feel the slow tension brewing and know if I play my cards just right, things will turn out the way I want them to.
I move to take a seat beside him on the bed. "About last night---I wanted to thank you," I whisper, holding his gaze. "I wouldn't have slept nearly as good without your help."
"I know how it is with cases and going over them. I just wish I would have known sooner that you were up. I would have tucked you in earlier," he bites down on his lips at his choice of words and grimaces.
I laugh softly, trying to break the tension and hear the doorbell. Jack moves off the bed, answering the door to see the Chinese food already here.
"You're favorite," he eyes me with a smile, as he pulls out the containers of dinner and we start in.
We take a seat at the small table in his hotel room, grabbing forks and spoons to dish out the food. "Did you call Eva yet?" Jack eyes me curiously as I begin eating.
"Yeah, last night. She's doing good," I answer.
"She looking for a job?"
"She's supposed to be," I smile in response. "Who knows where she's going to work, though," I laugh softly. "How's Maria?" Jack's eyes glance at the food on his plate, his fork turning the noodles as he ponders how to answer. "Jack?"
"Things haven't been so good lately."
"I figured that when she called me on Christmas," I remind him. "You want to talk about it?"
"What's there to talk about? It's an on-again, off-again marriage. Although it's her decision to be this way, she also accuses me of having an affair every time we're 'off' again."
"There's got to be some way to make it up to her."
Jack shakes his head no. "It's not about that. She doesn't agree with the work I do anymore. She thinks it's too time consuming and doesn't understand the dedication it takes to do a job."
"Have you tried talking to her?" I whisper, finally catching his gaze.
"That's the hardest part," he answers with a sigh.
"When I come home at night, it's like talking to a brick wall. All we ever do is fight. I'm fed up with it and I'm out of ideas."
"Jack, I know you want this to work out. Maybe there's other options."
"Like what?" he eyes me intently.
"Marriage counseling?"
"Yeah," he scoffs at the idea. "We tried that. It became too expensive when I couldn't make the appointments because of the job," he lets out a sigh.
"Maybe you should try and find a job that requires less of you. If that's what your marriage needs," I offer.
His eyes glance up into mine. "Maybe," he shrugs, "but this is what I do. This is what I live for." He shakes his head no. "That makes me sound like such a horrible person."
"You're not," I tell him, taking his hand in mine.
"Yes, I am. I've betrayed my wife, I've failed my children."
"Jack," I stop him from such horrible thoughts. "You've done nothing wrong."
"How can you say that? You of all people?" His eyes tear up.
"I don't feel guilty about what we did," I tell him, "and neither should you."
"It was an affair!" he reminds me.
"That's all that it was," I point out. He looks slightly confused, perhaps even hurt. "Wouldn't it have been worse going to a prostitute? Or finding someone at a bar to sleep with for sex? At least you found something you weren't getting at home."
"Sam, don't make this about me," he shakes his head no.
"It is about you, Jack. You deserve all those things, you have a right to be happy."
"You can't ask me to leave her."
"I wouldn't," I answer him. "I would never want to live with that decision," I remind him. "You're dying inside, though, and I see it, Jack."
He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of such thoughts. "It's because of you," he answers as I see his walls crumbling down. I'm not sure if I should feel hurt, ashamed, or used by his words.
"Jack," I whisper, moving my hand over his.
"If I'd have never fallen in love with you, I wouldn't be dying inside with Maria." His eyes are red with tears and he drops my hand and moves to the bathroom to hide his face.
I feel awful inside, but there's nothing I can do to comfort him---not really. What I want to do will only cause me more pain and make it harder to get over him. I bite down on my lower lip and the ultimate decision I need to make.
"Jack?" I knock softly on his bathroom door and hear him unlock it and step out. His tears have mostly dried. It's rare to see him cry, and every time it breaks my heart. I pull him into my arms, soaking in his body and trying to give him what he so desperately needs---love.
I feel his head falling into my chest. "Sam," he breathes out, his tears soaking through my tank top as he holds me close against him.
We move to sit down on the bed and he pulls me to lie down beside him. I feel my stomach in turmoil at the intensity and repercussions this might have. His body nestles along mine, as my hands feel over his back, soothing his breathing.
I glance down to see his eyes dry and his face red. "How did you do it?" He breathes out, his mouth so close and entirely out of reach, given the context of our emotional bond.
"Do what?" I whisper, running my hand through his hair, smiling softly at its length.
"If you really loved me, how did you manage to get over me? I can't for the world forget about you," he tells me.
"Jack, I never forgot about you," I reassure him. "There's things I want now that you won't offer me and I need to look to someone who can."
"Like Martin?" He grimaces at his name and I feel my stomach plummet as well. This feels so right, being in Jack's arms, and yet I know in the morning this will likely never happen again. Do I allow myself to love him one more night and take the chance I'll have longer to wait to get over him?
I smile softly, feeling my heart torn in two directions, and neither feeling the 'right' course of action. "Jack," I press a soft kiss to his cheek and his eyes momentarily close before meeting mine. "Sometimes the only way to move on is to let go."
"Is that what you did?" He eyes me with sad sorrow-filled eyes.
"I--" the words are lost on me and I let out a soft sigh and pause before continuing. "I usually keep from becoming attached to people, Jack, you know that."
"That wasn't the case with me, though, was it?" His eyes hold curiosity and fear that I was only using him as a pawn in such an elaborate game.
"Of course not. You were different. The few I did become attached to I learned to get over because I honestly ended up hating them. It was the only way I could see that I was doing something for the best---letting go."
"So you hated me then?"
"No," I laugh softly, "I could never hate you, Jack. You're the exception."
"So, then how'd you get over me?" His eyes grow heavy from the pain he's endured not from just today, but from his lifetime.
I smile in response, giving him a soft, brief kiss on the lips before pulling a blanket over him and shutting off the light. He lay there, beneath the covers, and doesn't move. I'm not sure if he's asleep just yet, but he doesn't ask me to stay, so I don't.
I grab the cartons and toss them on my way back to my room.
I leave the door ajar, letting Jack come to me during the night if he needs to. I quickly change tops, since the one I'm wearing is soaked through and I slip into bed and close my eyes with a soft breath.
