Conversations E: Can You Hear What I'm Saying...
By: Mariel
It had been a long day, a terrible day, one filled with danger and near death. And now Jack and Samantha stood in his office, confronting one another.
"What am I supposed to say?" she demanded.
Jack heard the hurt in her voice, but did not understand its depth. Because he knew she couldn't give him the answer he needed, he shrugged and gave her an abrupt "I don't know," in response.
They stood looking at one another in silence. Her question in response to his angry "What on Earth were you thinking?!" had been the wrong thing to ask, and he in turn had given the wrong answer. Both knew it.
Feeling the foundation of mutual understanding they had built beneath themselves begin to crumble, Jack still felt compelled to say, "You went into a situation that nearly cost you your life. Once, I can handle. Twice, is a problem. Samantha, you're not playing by the rules. I can't let you keep doing this. I can't trust you to make safe decisions, and if I can't trust you to do that, I can't have you out in the field."
His real fear, the one he couldn't verbalize, was that he would lose her. Once again, he needed someone he loved to reassure him that they would keep themselves safe. Samantha, of course, could not give him that reassurance, and had she, he would not have believed it - experience had taught him that the reassurances of loved ones were not always trustworthy.
Samantha stared at him in disbelief. He didn't trust her judgement or her competence. Feeling rejected on a level more deep than she could express, she said, "I'm here, aren't I? If I'd been risking more than I should have, I wouldn't be."
They had built their relationship on trusting support. Where had his gone?
A knock on the door jamb interrupted their debate. "Sorry to interrupt," Danny said, eyeing first one and then the other occupant of the office. Their angry tones had reached all the way to his desk. The phone call he'd just received had given him the excuse he needed to make them aware that others were around and might hear.
"We just got the call," he told them. "Simmons died on the operating table."
Jack nodded and shot a quick glance at Samantha. It could have been her.
Turning back to Danny, he said, "Tell Martin and Vivian I want to speak with them when they get back." He looked at Samantha, obviously not finished with her. "We'll be out in a minute."
Recognising his dismissal, Danny turned and left.
News of the other agent's death subdued her, but did not change Samantha's opinion of her actions. Jack was wrong. He couldn't keep her off the field. She had been doing her job. Not wanting to verbalize her feelings, she instead remembered the look in Danny's eyes as he'd spoken to them, said quietly, "He's starting to suspect something."
"I know," Jack said. The irony that they seemed to have to work harder to hide their relationship now than they had when they were having their affair did not escape him.
He moved to sit down behind his desk, using its bulk as a barrier between them. He was afraid. Of her. Of what it would do to him if she did something that cost her her life. He looked at her, hating the growing feeling that he was losing control of things, that, like his mother, Samantha would make a decision that would ultimately take her out of his life forever.
And he would be responsible, because he would have been the cause of her newfound recklessness.
"Do you need me for anything else tonight?"
The abrupt question surprised him. Looking up, he responded slowly. "No. Why?"
"I think I'll go home. I'm tired."
He knew there had to be more than her just being tired. It had become their habit to be together after an event like this. The affair was formally over, but there were times when they could not stay apart. This would have been one of those times - one of those times when he would call Maria and say he was either going to be very late, or not home at all. He and Samantha would stay late at the office and talk - a small compensation to what they had given up, and a tribute to the value of what they had salvaged and put it its place.
Their quiet conversations, held until all hours of the night over bad coffee in the dimly lit bullpen, was a ritual of reassurance, a rite both needed to perform. Tonight, however, there was no subtle acknowledgment that that would happen. Without her having to say so, he understood that she would not reappear after everyone else had left.
He considered protesting, considered making some comment to let her know he wanted to be with her later, but reluctantly put the idea aside. He hadn't been home in two days. Maria would be upset if he told her yet again he wouldn't be home. The girls, he knew, were missing him. Eyeing Samantha, he decided their being apart would serve two purposes - he would make good his family obligations, and she would have time to rethink things.
These thoughts running through his mind, he looked at her for a moment in silence, then finally sighed and nodded. Knowing what he was about to say would change everything, he said in a reluctant tone, "Okay. I'll see you in the morning, then."
They looked across a span of silence that made them both want to weep. Their relationship would not be the same again.
They'd agreed it was over months and months ago, but it hadn't been, not even for the moment it had taken to agree that is was. Now, however, they had taken a mis-step that unbalanced everything.
Turning, Samantha walked through the door, allowing it to close softly behind her with a finality that shouted what they had dared not even whisper.
Two months later, she accepted an offer of a promotion and a transfer to New Orleans.
End
By: Mariel
It had been a long day, a terrible day, one filled with danger and near death. And now Jack and Samantha stood in his office, confronting one another.
"What am I supposed to say?" she demanded.
Jack heard the hurt in her voice, but did not understand its depth. Because he knew she couldn't give him the answer he needed, he shrugged and gave her an abrupt "I don't know," in response.
They stood looking at one another in silence. Her question in response to his angry "What on Earth were you thinking?!" had been the wrong thing to ask, and he in turn had given the wrong answer. Both knew it.
Feeling the foundation of mutual understanding they had built beneath themselves begin to crumble, Jack still felt compelled to say, "You went into a situation that nearly cost you your life. Once, I can handle. Twice, is a problem. Samantha, you're not playing by the rules. I can't let you keep doing this. I can't trust you to make safe decisions, and if I can't trust you to do that, I can't have you out in the field."
His real fear, the one he couldn't verbalize, was that he would lose her. Once again, he needed someone he loved to reassure him that they would keep themselves safe. Samantha, of course, could not give him that reassurance, and had she, he would not have believed it - experience had taught him that the reassurances of loved ones were not always trustworthy.
Samantha stared at him in disbelief. He didn't trust her judgement or her competence. Feeling rejected on a level more deep than she could express, she said, "I'm here, aren't I? If I'd been risking more than I should have, I wouldn't be."
They had built their relationship on trusting support. Where had his gone?
A knock on the door jamb interrupted their debate. "Sorry to interrupt," Danny said, eyeing first one and then the other occupant of the office. Their angry tones had reached all the way to his desk. The phone call he'd just received had given him the excuse he needed to make them aware that others were around and might hear.
"We just got the call," he told them. "Simmons died on the operating table."
Jack nodded and shot a quick glance at Samantha. It could have been her.
Turning back to Danny, he said, "Tell Martin and Vivian I want to speak with them when they get back." He looked at Samantha, obviously not finished with her. "We'll be out in a minute."
Recognising his dismissal, Danny turned and left.
News of the other agent's death subdued her, but did not change Samantha's opinion of her actions. Jack was wrong. He couldn't keep her off the field. She had been doing her job. Not wanting to verbalize her feelings, she instead remembered the look in Danny's eyes as he'd spoken to them, said quietly, "He's starting to suspect something."
"I know," Jack said. The irony that they seemed to have to work harder to hide their relationship now than they had when they were having their affair did not escape him.
He moved to sit down behind his desk, using its bulk as a barrier between them. He was afraid. Of her. Of what it would do to him if she did something that cost her her life. He looked at her, hating the growing feeling that he was losing control of things, that, like his mother, Samantha would make a decision that would ultimately take her out of his life forever.
And he would be responsible, because he would have been the cause of her newfound recklessness.
"Do you need me for anything else tonight?"
The abrupt question surprised him. Looking up, he responded slowly. "No. Why?"
"I think I'll go home. I'm tired."
He knew there had to be more than her just being tired. It had become their habit to be together after an event like this. The affair was formally over, but there were times when they could not stay apart. This would have been one of those times - one of those times when he would call Maria and say he was either going to be very late, or not home at all. He and Samantha would stay late at the office and talk - a small compensation to what they had given up, and a tribute to the value of what they had salvaged and put it its place.
Their quiet conversations, held until all hours of the night over bad coffee in the dimly lit bullpen, was a ritual of reassurance, a rite both needed to perform. Tonight, however, there was no subtle acknowledgment that that would happen. Without her having to say so, he understood that she would not reappear after everyone else had left.
He considered protesting, considered making some comment to let her know he wanted to be with her later, but reluctantly put the idea aside. He hadn't been home in two days. Maria would be upset if he told her yet again he wouldn't be home. The girls, he knew, were missing him. Eyeing Samantha, he decided their being apart would serve two purposes - he would make good his family obligations, and she would have time to rethink things.
These thoughts running through his mind, he looked at her for a moment in silence, then finally sighed and nodded. Knowing what he was about to say would change everything, he said in a reluctant tone, "Okay. I'll see you in the morning, then."
They looked across a span of silence that made them both want to weep. Their relationship would not be the same again.
They'd agreed it was over months and months ago, but it hadn't been, not even for the moment it had taken to agree that is was. Now, however, they had taken a mis-step that unbalanced everything.
Turning, Samantha walked through the door, allowing it to close softly behind her with a finality that shouted what they had dared not even whisper.
Two months later, she accepted an offer of a promotion and a transfer to New Orleans.
End