Falling in Stages
By: Mariel
Stage 1
Jack Malone looked up and swung his chair around slightly to face the young woman who, unannounced, walked briskly into his office. Blond, slender and attractive, the confident Samantha Spade had been on his Missing Persons team for more than a year. Her presence was welcome, if unexpected.
"Hey," she said, plunking herself down in one of the chairs set in front of his desk.
"Hey, yourself," he replied, watching as she stretched her feet out in front of her and slouched so that her head rested on the back of the chair. He smiled. "Make yourself at home," he said dryly.
Samantha clasped her hands together and rested them comfortably on her stomach. Closing her eyes, she nodded, her smile of greeting still lingering. "Thanks."
Not taking his eyes off her, Jack leaned his solid frame back in his chair. "Kerry Smith has been returned to the loving bosom of her family. You're done for the night. Shouldn't you be on your way home? Everyone else has gone, haven't they?"
"You haven't."
"No, but I'm the boss, remember? I have responsibilities, paperwork - and headaches without number."
Opening her dark eyes, she held his gaze, amusement making her lips curve upwards. "Poor man," she sympathised - not very convincingly - before firmly closing her eyes again. "As it happens, I don't want to go home yet. It feels good to see this one turn out okay, you know? I want to enjoy it a bit before I call it a day."
He nodded. Then, realising she couldn't see him, said, "Yeah, but why stay here?"
"You need the company." Opening her eyes, she speared him with a dark look.
One of Jack's eyebrows rose. "I need company?"
"Yes."
Jack regarded her, surprised. The case, which had involved a girl exactly Hannah's age, had gotten to him more than he allowed most cases to. When Kerry had been located, he'd found himself almost shaking with relief. Samantha had been watching him carefully throughout their search for the young girl without comment. She obviously felt now was the time to talk. Why she felt it her place to do so, he had no idea, but he knew that she was right. As it seemed to have been right from the beginning, Samantha seemed to work with him under a different set of rules from anyone else.
Into the silence left by his lack of immediate response, Samantha added, "That little girl wasn't Hannah, Jack. And you should be celebrating our success, not moping away in here. I think you need to talk about why the case affected you so much, so you can put it to rest - and I'm the perfect one to talk about it to."
He remained silent. The awful thing was how right she was. He did want to talk. He did need company. Worse than that need, however, was the discovery he'd made over the past couple of cases that it was her in particular he wanted to talk to. He'd enjoyed the early months of showing her the ropes and watching her gain confidence and insight. He'd enjoyed discovering that she was one of the few people who didn't irritate the hell out of him when he was stressed. He also enjoyed the easy give and take of their conversations. They bounced theories off one another as though they'd worked together for years, and that was something to be valued. And, although he was a dozen years her senior, he realised he had long ago lost the feeling of being her mentor.
He wasn't certain now what feeling had replaced it.
Looking across his desktop at the woman who had so comfortably ensconced herself in his office, he surprised them both by saying impulsively, "If you're not ready to go home yet, why don't we go grab something to eat, then?"
She opened her eyes. "Won't that make you late getting home?" she asked.
He shook his head. "The girls are at their grandmother's. Marie has to work all weekend on a case she has coming up. She plans on being late, too."
Samantha regarded him silently, then nodded. "Okay, then. I'd like that. Give me ten minutes to make myself presentable."
Thinking she looked as good now as she had that morning, he nodded. Indicating with a wave of his hand the papers on his desk, he told her, "That'll work out perfectly. It'll give me time to sign off on these."
True to her word, Samantha presented herself at his office door ten minutes later. Jack quickly placed the papers he'd been working on in a neat pile, ready for the morning, and rose. After throwing on his coat, they walked silently to the elevator.
Travelling down to the main floor, he asked, "What do you feel like eating?"
Samantha shrugged. "What do you suggest?"
"This is New York. You can have just about any kind of food you want along any given block."
"What haven't you had in a long time, then?"
He looked at her thoughtfuly. Taking a chance, he asked, "Do you like Thai food? There's a place a couple blocks over I haven't been to in ages."
Samantha smiled. "Then Thai it is."
Jack held the elevator door open while she slipped out in front of him. They stopped at the front desk, logged out, and stepped out into a cool October night.
-- -- --
Samantha smiled at him from across the table. Conversation between them had flowed easily. They'd talked about the reason for the dinner out, but branched out into many other topics, both content just to sit and be away from work. Gesturing, she indicated the various plates of exotic food set before them. "I had you pegged for a linguini man. You know, bread and pasta. This is great."
"Hey," Jack said, "I'll eat just about anything, and Italian is one of my favourites, but I caught onto Thai food when I was in the service and have never looked back." He looked at his watch. "I don't remember the service being this slow, though. Maybe that's why I stopped coming," he apologised.
It hadn't been - he'd stopped coming because he'd always had to come alone.
Samantha placed another to die for sauce-laden shrimp into her mouth, chewed, then said, "The food's worth the wait. I'd forgotten how much I love food spicy enough to make my eyes water!"
"Most people don't," Jack said, a hint of regret in his tone. "Like really spicy food, I mean. I didn't expect you to say yes to this place. Usually when I mention Thai, people back off very quickly."
She raised an eyebrow and deftly picked up another shrimp with her chopsticks. She had a fondness for Thai food, but she'd have been happy to have gone anywhere he suggested. She was hardly likely to tell him that, though. Whatever it was about him that she found so fascinating was eluding her, and she knew that observations that included her wanting to be with him regardless of where they were wouldn't help matters.
She'd believed at first that she found his company attractive because she learned so much from him. Then she'd thought it was because with him, she never had to deal with the subtle - and sometimes not so subtle - opposite sex thing she often had to deal with when working with male counterparts. With Jack, she'd always felt confident she'd never have to worry about dealing with the discomfort of saying no to the inevitable "Would you like to go out sometime?" that so often spoiled a good working relationship.
Now, there were times she caught herself wishing she was faced with that problem. So that she could say yes, she'd love to go out with him. Because she would. The idea terrified her. And fascinated her.
Almost as much as the man himself.
Later, coffee steaming in a cup in front of her, Samantha settled back into her seat and surveyed the small restaurant. There were a thousand like it spread across the city. Little hole-in-the-wall places, narrow and crowded and serving - at least in some of them - food worth waiting for. This one had the food to die for and a quiet, dark atmosphere she liked.
"Bring me here again when we've had a case that ends as happily as today's?" she asked impulsively.
"Ah, I've found a weakness," he teased.
She grinned. "I didn't know you were looking for one, but yes. Play your cards right, and I'll show you many more!"
She stopped abruptly. Her words, light and flirtatious, hung between them in air suddenly taut with something neither had expected. Unable to tear her eyes away from his, she found herself unable to decipher the change she saw in them. Finally looking away, she said, "That came out all wrong. I'm sorry."
"Sam, we're off duty. I know what you meant."
She smiled, relieved, but doubting that he did. Taking a sip of her coffee, she then set her cup down carefully. "This has been really nice. Thank you."
"It's my pleasure. It was good to talk things over again. Sometimes, after a case like this, you want to share it with someone who knows what the heck it is you're talking about. I'm glad you came in tonight. This is just what I needed - not that I realised it until you waltzed into my office and announced it."
Samantha felt herself warm under his appreciative gaze. "Good. I'm glad. That means I can hold you to another venture back here in the future."
Sitting back so that the waiter could clear their places, Jack picked up the bill, then brought out his wallet. Leaving cash on the small tray provided, he rose.
"Now that I"ve found someone as fond of this place as I am, I promise we'll come back. Now - how do you get home from here? Do I walk you to the subway, or hail you a cab?"
Rising, Samantha allowed Jack to help her into her trench coat. "I'll take the subway, but don't worry about walking me there. It's only a block or so."
"Which makes it a good way for me to wear off some of my dinner."
She smiled at him, glad to spend more time with him. Coat buttoned up against the autumn air, she picked up her shoulder bag. "Then let's get going," she said.
A blast of crisp wind warning of winter's approach hit them as they left the restaurant. Hunching their shoulders against it, both agents turned and began to walk towards the subway.
Ten minutes later, they found the stairs leading to the underground. Samantha turned.
"Thanks, Jack."
He looked down at her, stifling the urge to take his hands out of his coat pockets and move a strand of hair that had blown across her face. Something had changed between them tonight.
Something warm and enticingly dangerous.
Something not to be acknowledged.
"I enjoyed it," he admitted. Pausing, he smiled. "See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," she echoed.
Turning, she descended the stairs. She knew without having to look back that he stood and watched until she was out of sight. The knowledge gave her a warm feeling she carried with her all the way home.
End Stage 1
By: Mariel
Stage 1
Jack Malone looked up and swung his chair around slightly to face the young woman who, unannounced, walked briskly into his office. Blond, slender and attractive, the confident Samantha Spade had been on his Missing Persons team for more than a year. Her presence was welcome, if unexpected.
"Hey," she said, plunking herself down in one of the chairs set in front of his desk.
"Hey, yourself," he replied, watching as she stretched her feet out in front of her and slouched so that her head rested on the back of the chair. He smiled. "Make yourself at home," he said dryly.
Samantha clasped her hands together and rested them comfortably on her stomach. Closing her eyes, she nodded, her smile of greeting still lingering. "Thanks."
Not taking his eyes off her, Jack leaned his solid frame back in his chair. "Kerry Smith has been returned to the loving bosom of her family. You're done for the night. Shouldn't you be on your way home? Everyone else has gone, haven't they?"
"You haven't."
"No, but I'm the boss, remember? I have responsibilities, paperwork - and headaches without number."
Opening her dark eyes, she held his gaze, amusement making her lips curve upwards. "Poor man," she sympathised - not very convincingly - before firmly closing her eyes again. "As it happens, I don't want to go home yet. It feels good to see this one turn out okay, you know? I want to enjoy it a bit before I call it a day."
He nodded. Then, realising she couldn't see him, said, "Yeah, but why stay here?"
"You need the company." Opening her eyes, she speared him with a dark look.
One of Jack's eyebrows rose. "I need company?"
"Yes."
Jack regarded her, surprised. The case, which had involved a girl exactly Hannah's age, had gotten to him more than he allowed most cases to. When Kerry had been located, he'd found himself almost shaking with relief. Samantha had been watching him carefully throughout their search for the young girl without comment. She obviously felt now was the time to talk. Why she felt it her place to do so, he had no idea, but he knew that she was right. As it seemed to have been right from the beginning, Samantha seemed to work with him under a different set of rules from anyone else.
Into the silence left by his lack of immediate response, Samantha added, "That little girl wasn't Hannah, Jack. And you should be celebrating our success, not moping away in here. I think you need to talk about why the case affected you so much, so you can put it to rest - and I'm the perfect one to talk about it to."
He remained silent. The awful thing was how right she was. He did want to talk. He did need company. Worse than that need, however, was the discovery he'd made over the past couple of cases that it was her in particular he wanted to talk to. He'd enjoyed the early months of showing her the ropes and watching her gain confidence and insight. He'd enjoyed discovering that she was one of the few people who didn't irritate the hell out of him when he was stressed. He also enjoyed the easy give and take of their conversations. They bounced theories off one another as though they'd worked together for years, and that was something to be valued. And, although he was a dozen years her senior, he realised he had long ago lost the feeling of being her mentor.
He wasn't certain now what feeling had replaced it.
Looking across his desktop at the woman who had so comfortably ensconced herself in his office, he surprised them both by saying impulsively, "If you're not ready to go home yet, why don't we go grab something to eat, then?"
She opened her eyes. "Won't that make you late getting home?" she asked.
He shook his head. "The girls are at their grandmother's. Marie has to work all weekend on a case she has coming up. She plans on being late, too."
Samantha regarded him silently, then nodded. "Okay, then. I'd like that. Give me ten minutes to make myself presentable."
Thinking she looked as good now as she had that morning, he nodded. Indicating with a wave of his hand the papers on his desk, he told her, "That'll work out perfectly. It'll give me time to sign off on these."
True to her word, Samantha presented herself at his office door ten minutes later. Jack quickly placed the papers he'd been working on in a neat pile, ready for the morning, and rose. After throwing on his coat, they walked silently to the elevator.
Travelling down to the main floor, he asked, "What do you feel like eating?"
Samantha shrugged. "What do you suggest?"
"This is New York. You can have just about any kind of food you want along any given block."
"What haven't you had in a long time, then?"
He looked at her thoughtfuly. Taking a chance, he asked, "Do you like Thai food? There's a place a couple blocks over I haven't been to in ages."
Samantha smiled. "Then Thai it is."
Jack held the elevator door open while she slipped out in front of him. They stopped at the front desk, logged out, and stepped out into a cool October night.
-- -- --
Samantha smiled at him from across the table. Conversation between them had flowed easily. They'd talked about the reason for the dinner out, but branched out into many other topics, both content just to sit and be away from work. Gesturing, she indicated the various plates of exotic food set before them. "I had you pegged for a linguini man. You know, bread and pasta. This is great."
"Hey," Jack said, "I'll eat just about anything, and Italian is one of my favourites, but I caught onto Thai food when I was in the service and have never looked back." He looked at his watch. "I don't remember the service being this slow, though. Maybe that's why I stopped coming," he apologised.
It hadn't been - he'd stopped coming because he'd always had to come alone.
Samantha placed another to die for sauce-laden shrimp into her mouth, chewed, then said, "The food's worth the wait. I'd forgotten how much I love food spicy enough to make my eyes water!"
"Most people don't," Jack said, a hint of regret in his tone. "Like really spicy food, I mean. I didn't expect you to say yes to this place. Usually when I mention Thai, people back off very quickly."
She raised an eyebrow and deftly picked up another shrimp with her chopsticks. She had a fondness for Thai food, but she'd have been happy to have gone anywhere he suggested. She was hardly likely to tell him that, though. Whatever it was about him that she found so fascinating was eluding her, and she knew that observations that included her wanting to be with him regardless of where they were wouldn't help matters.
She'd believed at first that she found his company attractive because she learned so much from him. Then she'd thought it was because with him, she never had to deal with the subtle - and sometimes not so subtle - opposite sex thing she often had to deal with when working with male counterparts. With Jack, she'd always felt confident she'd never have to worry about dealing with the discomfort of saying no to the inevitable "Would you like to go out sometime?" that so often spoiled a good working relationship.
Now, there were times she caught herself wishing she was faced with that problem. So that she could say yes, she'd love to go out with him. Because she would. The idea terrified her. And fascinated her.
Almost as much as the man himself.
Later, coffee steaming in a cup in front of her, Samantha settled back into her seat and surveyed the small restaurant. There were a thousand like it spread across the city. Little hole-in-the-wall places, narrow and crowded and serving - at least in some of them - food worth waiting for. This one had the food to die for and a quiet, dark atmosphere she liked.
"Bring me here again when we've had a case that ends as happily as today's?" she asked impulsively.
"Ah, I've found a weakness," he teased.
She grinned. "I didn't know you were looking for one, but yes. Play your cards right, and I'll show you many more!"
She stopped abruptly. Her words, light and flirtatious, hung between them in air suddenly taut with something neither had expected. Unable to tear her eyes away from his, she found herself unable to decipher the change she saw in them. Finally looking away, she said, "That came out all wrong. I'm sorry."
"Sam, we're off duty. I know what you meant."
She smiled, relieved, but doubting that he did. Taking a sip of her coffee, she then set her cup down carefully. "This has been really nice. Thank you."
"It's my pleasure. It was good to talk things over again. Sometimes, after a case like this, you want to share it with someone who knows what the heck it is you're talking about. I'm glad you came in tonight. This is just what I needed - not that I realised it until you waltzed into my office and announced it."
Samantha felt herself warm under his appreciative gaze. "Good. I'm glad. That means I can hold you to another venture back here in the future."
Sitting back so that the waiter could clear their places, Jack picked up the bill, then brought out his wallet. Leaving cash on the small tray provided, he rose.
"Now that I"ve found someone as fond of this place as I am, I promise we'll come back. Now - how do you get home from here? Do I walk you to the subway, or hail you a cab?"
Rising, Samantha allowed Jack to help her into her trench coat. "I'll take the subway, but don't worry about walking me there. It's only a block or so."
"Which makes it a good way for me to wear off some of my dinner."
She smiled at him, glad to spend more time with him. Coat buttoned up against the autumn air, she picked up her shoulder bag. "Then let's get going," she said.
A blast of crisp wind warning of winter's approach hit them as they left the restaurant. Hunching their shoulders against it, both agents turned and began to walk towards the subway.
Ten minutes later, they found the stairs leading to the underground. Samantha turned.
"Thanks, Jack."
He looked down at her, stifling the urge to take his hands out of his coat pockets and move a strand of hair that had blown across her face. Something had changed between them tonight.
Something warm and enticingly dangerous.
Something not to be acknowledged.
"I enjoyed it," he admitted. Pausing, he smiled. "See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," she echoed.
Turning, she descended the stairs. She knew without having to look back that he stood and watched until she was out of sight. The knowledge gave her a warm feeling she carried with her all the way home.
End Stage 1