Samantha Spade POV:
Malone Residence
February 4, 2004
7:42 p.m.
"Mom, when's Dad going to get home?" Hannah glances up at me with sad, soulful eyes.
"I don't know," I let out a soft sigh. "He said he'd probably be running late."
"He's not coming home, is he?" she questions, and I don't have an honest answer for her. She stands up, heading for her bedroom.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, Kate?" She leans against me on the sofa, my arm around her shoulders as she cuddles into my body.
"Does Daddy hate us?"
"No, he loves you both very much."
"Then why doesn't he come home?"
"He will," I tell her, running my fingers along her arm. "Why don't you get your teeth brushed for bed?"
"We haven't had our bedtime snack yet!"
"Oh, right." I nod. "What are you hungry for?"
"Ice cream," she grins.
"Why don't you head into your bedroom and ask Hannah if she wants some too?"
"Okay." She patters off into the girls' room while I make my way into the kitchen.
Once Hannah and Kate are done with their snack, they brush their teeth and I tuck them both into bed.
"Can we read a story, Mommy?" Kate's eyes beg me to give in.
"It's late," I tell the girls," and you have to get up early tomorrow as it is. Get some sleep." I shut off the light and head into the living room to watch some television.
I lay down on the sofa, stretching to make myself comfortable, while I wait up for Jack. I pull the blanket from the back of the couch, covering my body to keep warm.
I flip through the channels, growing tired with sleep as I fight to keep my eyes open. I give in to the temptation, closing them for a few short minutes before drifting into a much deeper sleep.
***********
Jack Malone POV:
Samantha Spade Residence
February 4, 2004
8:40 p.m.
"Sam," I knock against the wooden door, waiting for her to open it up.
"Jack, what are you doing here?" She stands in the doorway, a robe wrapped around her naked skin. Her hair is wet, as though she just stepped out of the shower. "Jack?"
"Oh, we needed to talk."
"About what?"
That's certainly not the reaction I was expecting; usually she lets me in. I stand outside in the hallway of her apartment complex. "If you don't come back to work, you'll be fired."
"Fired?" Her eyes stare into mine. "You fire me and I'll come out about the affair."
"Samantha," I shake my head, "you don't want to do that."
"I don't? Tell me why not. What have I got to lose?"
I let out a frustrated sigh. "Do you want me to leave her? Is that what this is about? We've talked about this before," I remind her.
"We have?" she says, slightly confused.
"I have two girls who need me," I remind her.
"Go home, Jack." She slams the door in my face.
"Samantha!" I knock again, this time louder. "If you don't come back to work, Van Doren insists you'll be fired. It wasn't my doing," I tell her.
"Fuck off, Jack." I hear another door slam in her apartment and imagine she shut the bedroom door to keep from hearing me.
"Shit." I pound my hands into the door, frustrated with her. I step back, glancing towards her neighbor's door to see him eyeing me reluctantly.
He's probably called the police, or will if I don't leave. I head down to my car and take a seat. Why is Samantha acting so bizarre? Does she really not want to come back to work? Is it because of Maria? I slam my fists into the steering wheel, frustrated and upset that the woman I've fallen in love with won't see me. Maybe I should have never told her the truth about how I feel. Could this be the reason for her strange behavior lately?
I head back towards home, hoping Maria will forgive me for not being home on time. Will she really believe I had to work late?
I unlock the door and open it quietly to see her lying on the sofa, sound asleep.
I lean down, moving the hair from her face, and watching how peaceful she is. "Jack?" she mumbles out and her eyes flutter open. "You're home," she whispers with a yawn.
"Yes," I nod, and she scoots over for me to sit beside her.
"You went to see her again, didn't you?" Maria's eyes meet mine.
"I've been worried about her; she's going to lose her job."
"It's not your fault," she tells me.
"It is," I nod with sad, tired eyes.
"Shhh," she silences me with her lips, and moves her hand down my chest. "Let's go to bed," she tells me, sitting up and pulling my hands to follow her into the bedroom.
"Even after I've been with her, you'll forgive me?" I question.
"Jack," she laughs softly, shaking her head, "shut up and kiss me."
I willingly comply, giving in to all desires as I feel her lips move down my neck and she rolls us around, tugging at my clothes. I'm surprised by her eagerness and demeanor. The few times we've made love in the past year, she's usually been very reserved and passive. This is an entirely new side I've yet to see.
"Jack," she moans, her voice brushing past her lips and into my mouth as I silence her with a kiss.
"Shhh," I remind her, not wanting to wake the girls up.
She nods her head, telling me she understands as she pulls at the rest of her clothes, tossing them to the floor.
"I love you," she whispers, her eyes smiling down at me. My lips seal with hers, giving her a kiss in return for her promise of love.
*********
John Doggett POV:
Inn & Suites
February 4, 2004
9:15 p.m
After dinner, we get two hotel rooms and head back to get some sleep. I grab my bag and Monica's from the trunk, carrying hers into her adjoining room and then placing mine next door.
"John," I hear her voice and glance back through the open doors.
"Yeah?"
"You're not going to sleep in there, are you?"
"Shouldn't I at least make it look slept in, in case the Bureau hires any P.I.'s and they interview the maid?"
"Oh come on," she grabs my waist, pulling me down onto the bed, above her body.
"Monica," I interrupt, as her hands loosen my tie and unbutton my shirt. "We have to get up early."
"Then we won't stay up late," she whispers in a deep sultry voice, drawing her tongue against my lips.
I give in, like I always do with this woman, pulling her mouth against mine to deepen the kiss. My hands tug at her clothes, pulling them from her body. She shivers beneath my touch as her nails scrape against my back, pulling me closer and deeper as her body trembles below and I feel my own reaching the ultimate heights of pleasure.
I lay above her, feeling my heart pounding into my chest as I roll onto my side.
"John," her voice is a soft whisper and my eyes open to see her staring back at me.
"Hmmm?" I breathe out, feeling her hand dance along my side and over my stomach.
"We've been together for over a year," she pauses, eyeing me with uncertainty. Does she want more of a commitment---marriage, a child? I'm not ready for those things. Not after everything I've been through, even if it's over a ten-year span---the termination of my marriage and the death of my son.
"Can we talk about this when we get home?" I question, shutting my eyes to indicate it's late and I'm tired.
"All right," she answers, and I feel her sit up in bed to shut off the light. She pulls the covers over us, and her legs slide against mine, as she leans into my body for comfort. I wrap my arms around her, and a few minutes later I feel tears from her eyes on my chest.
"Monica?"
"It's nothing," she tells me, rolling from my grasp onto her stomach to muffle her cries into a pillow.
I sit up, rubbing my hand along her back. "I'm sorry, I'm just not ready for anything more."
"You're never ready," she mumbles into the pillow and I let out a resigned sigh. I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling for answers to one of life's questions: what do I do?
Malone Residence
February 4, 2004
7:42 p.m.
"Mom, when's Dad going to get home?" Hannah glances up at me with sad, soulful eyes.
"I don't know," I let out a soft sigh. "He said he'd probably be running late."
"He's not coming home, is he?" she questions, and I don't have an honest answer for her. She stands up, heading for her bedroom.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, Kate?" She leans against me on the sofa, my arm around her shoulders as she cuddles into my body.
"Does Daddy hate us?"
"No, he loves you both very much."
"Then why doesn't he come home?"
"He will," I tell her, running my fingers along her arm. "Why don't you get your teeth brushed for bed?"
"We haven't had our bedtime snack yet!"
"Oh, right." I nod. "What are you hungry for?"
"Ice cream," she grins.
"Why don't you head into your bedroom and ask Hannah if she wants some too?"
"Okay." She patters off into the girls' room while I make my way into the kitchen.
Once Hannah and Kate are done with their snack, they brush their teeth and I tuck them both into bed.
"Can we read a story, Mommy?" Kate's eyes beg me to give in.
"It's late," I tell the girls," and you have to get up early tomorrow as it is. Get some sleep." I shut off the light and head into the living room to watch some television.
I lay down on the sofa, stretching to make myself comfortable, while I wait up for Jack. I pull the blanket from the back of the couch, covering my body to keep warm.
I flip through the channels, growing tired with sleep as I fight to keep my eyes open. I give in to the temptation, closing them for a few short minutes before drifting into a much deeper sleep.
***********
Jack Malone POV:
Samantha Spade Residence
February 4, 2004
8:40 p.m.
"Sam," I knock against the wooden door, waiting for her to open it up.
"Jack, what are you doing here?" She stands in the doorway, a robe wrapped around her naked skin. Her hair is wet, as though she just stepped out of the shower. "Jack?"
"Oh, we needed to talk."
"About what?"
That's certainly not the reaction I was expecting; usually she lets me in. I stand outside in the hallway of her apartment complex. "If you don't come back to work, you'll be fired."
"Fired?" Her eyes stare into mine. "You fire me and I'll come out about the affair."
"Samantha," I shake my head, "you don't want to do that."
"I don't? Tell me why not. What have I got to lose?"
I let out a frustrated sigh. "Do you want me to leave her? Is that what this is about? We've talked about this before," I remind her.
"We have?" she says, slightly confused.
"I have two girls who need me," I remind her.
"Go home, Jack." She slams the door in my face.
"Samantha!" I knock again, this time louder. "If you don't come back to work, Van Doren insists you'll be fired. It wasn't my doing," I tell her.
"Fuck off, Jack." I hear another door slam in her apartment and imagine she shut the bedroom door to keep from hearing me.
"Shit." I pound my hands into the door, frustrated with her. I step back, glancing towards her neighbor's door to see him eyeing me reluctantly.
He's probably called the police, or will if I don't leave. I head down to my car and take a seat. Why is Samantha acting so bizarre? Does she really not want to come back to work? Is it because of Maria? I slam my fists into the steering wheel, frustrated and upset that the woman I've fallen in love with won't see me. Maybe I should have never told her the truth about how I feel. Could this be the reason for her strange behavior lately?
I head back towards home, hoping Maria will forgive me for not being home on time. Will she really believe I had to work late?
I unlock the door and open it quietly to see her lying on the sofa, sound asleep.
I lean down, moving the hair from her face, and watching how peaceful she is. "Jack?" she mumbles out and her eyes flutter open. "You're home," she whispers with a yawn.
"Yes," I nod, and she scoots over for me to sit beside her.
"You went to see her again, didn't you?" Maria's eyes meet mine.
"I've been worried about her; she's going to lose her job."
"It's not your fault," she tells me.
"It is," I nod with sad, tired eyes.
"Shhh," she silences me with her lips, and moves her hand down my chest. "Let's go to bed," she tells me, sitting up and pulling my hands to follow her into the bedroom.
"Even after I've been with her, you'll forgive me?" I question.
"Jack," she laughs softly, shaking her head, "shut up and kiss me."
I willingly comply, giving in to all desires as I feel her lips move down my neck and she rolls us around, tugging at my clothes. I'm surprised by her eagerness and demeanor. The few times we've made love in the past year, she's usually been very reserved and passive. This is an entirely new side I've yet to see.
"Jack," she moans, her voice brushing past her lips and into my mouth as I silence her with a kiss.
"Shhh," I remind her, not wanting to wake the girls up.
She nods her head, telling me she understands as she pulls at the rest of her clothes, tossing them to the floor.
"I love you," she whispers, her eyes smiling down at me. My lips seal with hers, giving her a kiss in return for her promise of love.
*********
John Doggett POV:
Inn & Suites
February 4, 2004
9:15 p.m
After dinner, we get two hotel rooms and head back to get some sleep. I grab my bag and Monica's from the trunk, carrying hers into her adjoining room and then placing mine next door.
"John," I hear her voice and glance back through the open doors.
"Yeah?"
"You're not going to sleep in there, are you?"
"Shouldn't I at least make it look slept in, in case the Bureau hires any P.I.'s and they interview the maid?"
"Oh come on," she grabs my waist, pulling me down onto the bed, above her body.
"Monica," I interrupt, as her hands loosen my tie and unbutton my shirt. "We have to get up early."
"Then we won't stay up late," she whispers in a deep sultry voice, drawing her tongue against my lips.
I give in, like I always do with this woman, pulling her mouth against mine to deepen the kiss. My hands tug at her clothes, pulling them from her body. She shivers beneath my touch as her nails scrape against my back, pulling me closer and deeper as her body trembles below and I feel my own reaching the ultimate heights of pleasure.
I lay above her, feeling my heart pounding into my chest as I roll onto my side.
"John," her voice is a soft whisper and my eyes open to see her staring back at me.
"Hmmm?" I breathe out, feeling her hand dance along my side and over my stomach.
"We've been together for over a year," she pauses, eyeing me with uncertainty. Does she want more of a commitment---marriage, a child? I'm not ready for those things. Not after everything I've been through, even if it's over a ten-year span---the termination of my marriage and the death of my son.
"Can we talk about this when we get home?" I question, shutting my eyes to indicate it's late and I'm tired.
"All right," she answers, and I feel her sit up in bed to shut off the light. She pulls the covers over us, and her legs slide against mine, as she leans into my body for comfort. I wrap my arms around her, and a few minutes later I feel tears from her eyes on my chest.
"Monica?"
"It's nothing," she tells me, rolling from my grasp onto her stomach to muffle her cries into a pillow.
I sit up, rubbing my hand along her back. "I'm sorry, I'm just not ready for anything more."
"You're never ready," she mumbles into the pillow and I let out a resigned sigh. I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling for answers to one of life's questions: what do I do?
