I'm sorry. Try as I might, I can't seem to work up the energy for a case file. So here are a few vignettes, set in varying times after the affair. I'll post these two today, and the next two as soon as I can. Some are loosely connected to stories I've already posted, but you don't have to have read my other stuff to have any of these make sense. I think

Hopefully you'll get the jist of how they all connect...

Thanks to Diane for beta-ing through all the incarnations of this story.

Nobody's Business

What the Woman Wouldn't Say
By: Mariel

She had seen him here more than once before, with a group of people she supposed he worked with. He never had more than two drinks, had never been the last to leave, and so she had never approached. Now, surprised that he was here at this time of day, the red-haired woman watched as he strode across the floor to the bar. From her regular table against one wall of the darkened establishment, she then watched as he selected a stool and sat down heavily. Because she had nothing better to do, she found herself still watching as he first ordered, and was then given, a drink.

When, rather than raise the glass to his lips, he clasped it between his two hands and stared at it morosely, her interest rose a couple of points. Yeah, she thought. A nice possibility. She liked his slightly rumpled, tired air. Liked the way he wore his hair and the way silver gleamed at his temples. Most of all, she liked the way he seemed somehow apart from his surroundings.

Here was a man who looked as though he could use some comfort. Comfort that she was just the woman to provide.

Smoothing a tight, black skirt over her slender hips, she sauntered over to him, further evaluating her prey as she walked. Featherlike and fleeting, his glance passed over her on its way to the door. That movement of eye told her he was waiting for someone. It also revealed that he had the most expressive eyes on a man she'd seen in a long, long time. The thought of them carried her forward. When she reached him, she slid onto the stool next to his with a long flash of thigh and an impressive show of cleavage.

"Hi, I'm Sophie. Waiting for someone?" she asked, her teeth gleaming brightly.

He looked at her with eyes that let her know he'd noticed her approach and knew why she'd come to sit with him.

They also told her he wasn't interested.

But he was polite. "I'm Jack," the man said. "And yeah, I'm waiting for a friend. Sorry."

He went back to examining his drink.

Que sera, sera, she thought. She'd been around the block often enough to know when she had a chance and when she didn't. God knew she understood all too well the futility of beating a dead horse. Still, looking at him sitting there, she felt herself soften. In her line of work, evaluating a man quickly was a matter of survival, and she had learned that skill young and well. She recognised a sadness in him, and understood immediately that more than one calamity had befallen him. Here was a man, she decided, who bore a little more on his shoulders than was healthy. Someone who had faced disappointments and who kept some pretty big emotions tightly reined.

Someone, she thought with regret, who wasn't the sort to turn to her for comfort.

Turning away from him, she crooked a long-nailed finger at the bartender. Tilting her head in Jack's direction, she said, "Joe, give this man another drink when he's finished this one." Turning green eyes back towards Jack, she added, "And give one to his friend when she arrives."

Jack raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. She opened her mouth to make comment, but when his eyes flickered towards the door and his expression changed, she remained silent and turned her head instead.

Following his glance across the room, she nodded. She'd known it would be a woman. Blonde, dark-eyed and walking with a slight limp, the woman stepped into the bar and paused to adjust to the dim lighting. While the woman got her bearings, Sophie identified her as possibly being one of the people in the group 'Jack' usually came here with. A dedicated people watcher, Sophie glanced between the two with interest and began to consider the evidence.

In spite of the wedding ring on the man's finger, she guessed that these two were not connected by a comfortable marriage. Her eyes strayed between the two again, and she nodded as what she saw confirmed her thoughts. This woman had nothing to do with that little band of gold. 'Affair' was written all over them both - there was too much emotion here to be anything other than something forbidden. The sadness of the man and the hopeless look in the eyes of the woman when her searching eyes found him spelled a momentous meeting was about to take place. Rising, she tapped the counter. "Looks like your company's arrived."

Not acknowledging her comment, the man's eyes remained fixed on the blonde.

He did not appear to notice as, lifting a carefully arched eyebrow, Sophie pushed away from the bar and smoothly walked away.

She watched them for a while after that. Watched as they left the bar and carried their drinks to a table across from her on the opposite wall... then watched as they spoke in low tones, their heads bent. She watched as the man trailed gentle fingers across the back of the woman's hand. And watched as the woman's fingers curled around his in response. There was a good bye in that motion, one last clutch at what was wanted before a reluctant, final letting-go.

To her surprise, Sophie felt something sink inside.

So, she thought -what they felt for each other wasn't going to overcome whatever it was that kept them apart.

A customer entered. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from the two lovers and smiled at the approaching man.

The woman's attention diverted, the two were finally left alone.

No one noticed when they left.

Weeks later, when someone came asking about them, Jack's picture brought the memory of his last visit flooding back. She didn't have much to report, though, just that yeah, she had seen them both at the bar. She wasn't sure of the date or the time of day. When she asked why he was asking, the dark-suited man hedged a vague answer. She frowned, but allowed him to continue his questioning.

The nature of those questions, however, quickly made her pause. Ever cautious, she chose her answers carefully, and for reasons she could never fully explain, she withheld her careful observations about the two. When asked if they appeared to be intimate, she off-handedly claimed a complete lack of psychic ability and vowed that they'd done nothing to indicate that they were. In fact, she lied, she vaguely remembered that they might have been joined by a few others, she just couldn't remember for sure.

The barkeep, listening carefully as he dried highball glasses in the background, backed up her story.

Obviously not happy with her words, the man closed his little black notebook.

When he left, Sophie allowed herself a moment's satisfaction that she had said nothing of help. Turning, her eyes fell on the table where she had last seen the couple sitting. A fleeting memory of the man called Jack sitting there, his fingers playing gently across the top of the blond woman's hand made her pause.

She wondered what had happened to them.

End
What the Woman Wouldn't Say