"Right," I scoff, grabbing the sealed file from his bed. "You ready?" He nods and opens the front door, walking with me to his car. "Where to?" I question, exchanging the keys for the file.

"The police station. I want to pay Detective Connor a visit and see what they've turned up."

******

We arrive in less than twenty minutes, and Jack is in professional mode, pretending last night never happened between us.

I want to address it, but I know right now isn't the best time.

We step inside and Jack waves down Connor. I follow behind only seconds later to hear my cell phone. "Excuse me," I smile politely. "Agent Spade," I answer.

"Samantha, its Vivian. We've got something you should look into."

"Yeah?"

"One of the guys he was with has a candy apple red mustang," she tells me. "His name's Pete Sanders. I've got an address for you too--"

"I actually have his address." I open the small notebook that I use for jotting down information and see his name as one of the roommates in the apartment who went partying the night Damon disappeared. "I'll look into it." I hang up the phone and head towards Jack.

"Anything?"

"Actually, yeah, we might have a break in the case." I relay Jack the information and Detective Connor joins us in interrogating Pete Sanders.

We make it to the parking lot, glancing around for the red car. I point towards it, parking a few feet away and we take a walk around the vehicle. "Paint's chipping," I observe as the three of us head towards the apartment building. "Think that's enough to get us a warrant?"

"It's on public property," Connor answers, dialing his cell phone. Jack and I make our way up to the front door.

"Pete Sanders, we're with the FBI," I knock briskly, announcing who we are. My hand rests over my gun as I hear the back door squeaking and footsteps pounding down the wooden stairs out back.

Our eyes light up as Jack shouts to Connor, "He's going out the back!" The detective heads on over as Jack and I run down the stairs to catch up.

"Not so fast!" I hear the detective's loud voice booming as I watch Pete fall to the ground on his stomach, his hands struggling behind his back as cuffs are mounted on him.

"Son of a bitch," he twists and turns, trying to break free. The detective shoves him into the back of the car, as we hear another unit rounding the corner for backup.

I walk off, with Jack trailing behind me.

"Where are you going?"

"To check the dumpster for any more evidence."

"You might as well wait, Sam. The crime scene unit will be here in no time; let them do the dirty work." His hand rests on my arm, stopping me from walking any farther.

"And the warrant?"

"It's on the way. Connor's taking Sanders to the station where his men will interrogate him. Our job here is done."

"We still don't know the exact cause of death," I remind him, "and why was he running into the forest?"

"Hopefully, he'll make a confession and answer those questions."

"And if not?" I meet his eyes. "We're still left with so many uncertainties. What justice will his family have when they find out?"

Jack's cell phone interrupts us. "Malone," he answers and lets out a soft sigh. "Yeah, we figured that. Meet us at the police station." Jack hangs up the phone. "That was Martin. The family identified the body as Damon Relic."

"That's no surprise."

"Come on," he escorts me to the car and in no time we're back at the station. "I'm going to go interrogate him. You wait here," he tells me. I eye him curiously; why doesn't he want me involved? I shake the notion and watch behind the one-way mirror.

I feel Martin's presence beside me and then realize why Jack wanted me here. "Samantha, I'm sorry about what I said."

"Don't," I tell him, crossing my arms and watching as Jack's voice rises and Pete fails to answer any questions. It won't matter much anyhow, as he'll be going to jail for murder.

Jack exits the interrogation room, his eyes meeting Martin's first and then mine. "Didn't get much out of him. It's too bad," he states. "We might have been able to get a plea-bargain for the kid. Instead he'll rot away in a four-by-four jail cell for the next twenty years."

"Did anyone call Vivian and Danny?"

"They're on their way here," Martin answers. "I'll go check." He slips out of the room and Jack's eyes stare at the suspect through the glass.

"We can't save them all," I remind him, taking his hand in an intimate gesture.

"I know that," he bluntly states, dropping my hand and crossing the room. He closes the file and signs off on the interrogation before opening the door. "It's back to the city," he comments, his eyes finally coming up to meet mine.

I see something behind his dark hues and I'm not sure what it is. Could it be regret from something so innocent? I let out a breath, leaving Jack in his thoughts while I head out of the room to see Martin, Viv, and Danny standing around.

"So that's it?" Danny shrugs.

"Unless he gives us a statement contradicting the evidence, that's all we have to go on."

"Is it enough to lock him away?"

I nod my head as Danny and Viv exchange glances and Jack steps towards us. "You're free to head home," Jack tells them.

"Thanks," Vivian breathes out, her voice never betraying her. Vivian and Danny head into one car while Martin eyes me.

"You want a ride back?" He offers, "I'll even let you drive."

"Gee thanks," I quip.

"Listen, Samantha, I'm sorry about what I said."

"I know, but it doesn't make it hurt any less."

"You know I'd never want to do anything to upset you."

"I know," I nod with a soft, sad sigh and see Jack standing uncomfortably beside us. "I just need some time, okay?"

Martin nods and I follow Jack out to his car. "Do you mind if I drive back with you?" I ask Jack.

"I thought you'd take Martin up on his offer."

I shake my head no, "Unless you don't want me with you?"

"Here," he hands me the keys as we slip into his car.

After an hour into the drive, we haven't said much to one another. I honestly don't know what to say. Last night we finally started to break through this wall that's been built between us, and now its back up in place.

He pulls out his phone, dialing the number but staring at it for a good minute before hitting send.

"Yeah, it's me," his voice sounds tired and sad and it makes my heart break. He's quiet for a minute. I don't seem to hear Maria talking, but maybe she's a quiet person on the phone. "I'll be home tonight. I should be there by seven," he answers with a sigh. "Yes," he pauses waiting another minute, "I'll be home," he repeats with gruffness in his voice that sends a chill down my spine. He hangs up the phone and leaves it in his hands as he stares at the small metal object.

I glance over in his direction. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I could have had Martin drive me back so you could get home to your family."

"An extra half hour won't kill them," he muses.

"Jack," my voice is soft and attentive, concern etched on my face as my eyes meet his briefly. "What happened this morning?"

"What do you mean?"

"Things seemed all right for us last night and when we woke up, you seemed really different, like you were ashamed of what we did."

"Ashamed?" He laughs and shakes his head at my words.

"There's nothing wrong in holding someone." I move my hand to his and he snaps his away, burning mine on contact.

"You don't get it! I'm married," his voice screams at me and I shift slightly away and hit my foot to the gas, wanting to get home sooner.

A minute or so passes and Jack lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Samantha," he tells me, resting his hand above mine on the steering wheel.

"Don't be. You're right; what was I thinking," I answer with a shrug, inwardly criticizing myself for still allowing myself to love an unattainable man. How many times must I feel crushed and broken before I learn?

"Sam," his voice is soft and he squeezes my hand before I shake his away.

"Just don't," I warn him, feeling my inner defenses building and my outer walls tumbling.

He lets out a sigh and glances out the window. He's quiet for a good five minutes and my mind races with what he's thinking about. I feel as though my temper has finally cooled down a bit when he speaks up.

"It was the dream."

"Excuse me?" My eyes glance towards his before looking back at the road.

"This morning," he answers, "what got me so worked up and gave me this nasty attitude all day."

"Jack, you don't have to explain," I give him the easy way out, probably because I'm afraid of what he'll tell me.

"In my dream I wanted to be with you, Sam, and you flat out refused. You told me you moved on and it was too late because I couldn't give you what he could. You were angry with me and vowed never to speak to me again," he pauses, letting out a breath. "And the worst part was---I caught you having sex with Martin on my desk."

I can't help but laugh softly at the absurdity of his dream and glance over towards him.

"You don't have to worry about that happening," I eye him intently. "It's more likely I'd shoot him than have sex with him," I quip.

"Sam."

"I know," I gesture towards him, "you want us to go to that stupid team building seminar to work through all this." I let out a soft groan. "It won't make any bit of difference. My anger towards him won't go away for something he said, and it doesn't make me a less qualified agent for being this way."

"I never implied that," he nods. "I just don't want it to affect your judgment."

"And it won't," I remind him. "If the situation called for it, I'd save Martin's life and risk my own if I had to. I'd do it for any one of you guys, even if I didn't agree with a comment or something someone did. Jack," I glance towards him, "my judgment wasn't affected on this case and it very well could have easily been, since I was pissed as shit with you for looking at my personal file." I eye him seriously and then the road.

"You're right," he nods, letting out a breath and considering the fact.

"Is there any chance you can spare me the lectures and week of the seminar?" I eye him sadly, giving him my best-defeated expression.

"On one condition."

"What's that?" My eyes rise in curiosity.

"Since Lisa Harris won't be back for some time---if not indefinitely---I want you to see someone else. It doesn't have to be at the Bureau, though," he points out.

"Thanks," I quip, "another expense to add to my growing collection."

"You can submit it to your expense account."

"I don't think Van Doren will accept it."

"Then I'll cover it."

"Jack, you have two daughters who need your money more than I do."

"Samantha, I want you to talk to someone, and I think you might be more inclined to be open and honest with someone who doesn't have the connections that Lisa Harris had."

"There's nothing that's bothering me," I shrug. "Besides, I've got Eva, who's a great ear."

Jack nods and his eyes watch mine study the road.

"Sam, promise me if you even so much as start feeling upset about something, you'll see someone. Or, at the very least, come to me. Maybe I can help." I hear his heart in his words and I nod softly, letting out a warm breath.

"Thanks, Jack."

"I mean it," he tells me. "I'll let you out of the seminar if you can manage working with Martin again. I know you don't want to forgive him, and I don't know what he said so I can't," he pauses, "and I wouldn't want to get in the middle." I laugh, realizing he's in over his head already. "Just let it go. You can be pissed at him on your own time, but while at the Bureau you have to forgive and forget---or else it'll eat away at you."

"I know," I nod letting out a soft breath. "He was just being a jerk."

"Can I ask what he said?" Jack eyes me curiously as I let out a breath, considering whether or not to tell him.

"To sum it up, we were talking intimately and he pretty much did a Freudian slip on what he thinks of me."

"What'd he say?"

"That I've done a lot more for a lot less." I breathe out Martin's words, hearing the chant in my head. "He couldn't understand how I wanted to take things slow after all I've been through lately. I gave in once and he just expected it every other time. I couldn't do it again," I shake my head, feeling tears rise to my eyes, "I couldn't lie to myself any longer," I whisper, wiping my face as I feel Jack's hand on my shoulder.

"Sam, in no way have you ever shown that to me, and I know you best out of everyone at the Bureau." I feel his hand moving my hair from my neck as his cool fingers touch my skin.

"I know," I whisper, "it just hurt though. I trusted him and that's what I was worried about---letting someone in---and look what he did."

I shake my head, wanting to collapse into Jack's arms and cry till there's no more tears left. I can't, though, not if we want to get home tonight and not if he has any intention of going home to Maria.

"Sometimes people hurt each other, even when you love someone."

"I never loved him," I whisper. "It was always you Jack, always has been, always will be."

"Sam," his voice breaks and I'm not sure what's running through his mind.

"I know I can't be with you and I wouldn't want what we had. I was trying so desperately to forget how much I loved you and I jumped into something without looking. I was blind to the world and was praying that if I jumped, I'd fly---not fall."

"You didn't know--" he reminds me, his warm thumb drying the remaining tears on my face.

"I should have," I answer. "It doesn't matter now, though."

"Yes it does. You matter."

"No," I shake my head, "I'll get through this. It's stupid really. I didn't even love him and I'm crying over it. I don't get it," I shake my head.

"I do," he whispers. "You're going through what I've been dealing with." I glance in his direction briefly. "You're still trying to get over us," he reminds me.

I nod absently and let out a soft breath.

"If it makes you feel any better, things in my house haven't been exactly smooth sailing. Christmas Eve, Maria took the girls to her parents. I didn't even see her until we met at the restaurant, when I saw you and Martin there."

"Oh," I whisper, "well at least she'll be home tonight," I smile sadly. "For New Year's," I remind him, squeezing his hand and putting both back on the steering wheel.

"It's not what I look forward to, though," he tells me. I glance his way, curious as to the meaning of his words. "Most people want to come home at the end of the night; I'd rather stay at the office---" he pauses "---well, that is until I had that dream with you and Martin on the desk."

"Jack," I groan, as I see a smile playing on his lips and one barely on mine.

We pull in front of my apartment and Jack glances towards me intently. "Eva has my car. I hope I won't get you into too much trouble getting you home twenty minutes early," I answer. Jack eyes me thoughtfully before I step out of his car. He glances down at the gold chain on my neck and his finger moves to the material, looking for the double hearts. "I couldn't wear it," I tell him, "with Martin and then work; it would be too much. Too many questions," I remind him. "I still have it, though."

He nods his head softly. I'm not sure if he's hurt or not.

"Thanks for bringing me with you on this trip," I tell him, unlocking the door and turning around to grab my duffel bag. "I know it wasn't at all like old times and it can never be again, but I at least didn't dread seeing you. I can't say the same for the other guys I got involved with."

I shut my mouth, fearing I've said too much. He's staring at me and I feel my stomach somersault at his quietness.

"Well, goodnight and have a happy new year," I tell him, slipping out of the car and making my way up to my front door, waiting for Eva to answer it.