A/N;

Spymaster; Yes it is JS :) of course!

All; Just wanted to apologise, because I realised that the little or whatever it was I put between each character didn't show up, so it was even harder to distinguish when a new character was starting, I'll try fix that this time ;). Also if there are any spelling errors I apologise as well its very late here, but I seemed to find myself inspired, yet I know normally I do not make much sense at this late hour!

I've also decided if this little collection of events and thoughts goes well, I might right a story as a sequel from the thoughts ;).

I think I'm probably gonna go one more chapter on this, but please still review, I like to recieve compliments and criticism, as long as you do it nicely!

The Triangle

Chapter 2 – The Things We'll Never Say.

That look that was somewhere between a smirk and an 'I told you so…' was what got Jack the most as Martin walked past, he hated that he lost Sam. But he should be happy for her, she needed to be happy now, after all Jack knew Martin wasn't a bad guy, in fact he was probably everything she actually needed.

But it didn't stop him from wanting her. You always wanted the things you can't have, it was a blunt fact of life.

Jack followed Martin into the bullpen keeping a blank expression on his face, "Since you're here lets get started, Sam's going to be late." There was that small little smirk again, totally hidden to the untrained eye, but Jack could swear it was there. Suddenly he felt compelled to hit Martin hard, he wasn't supposed to be able to touch Sam in a way that was only reserved for him. His heart felt heavy and for the first time in his life easily breakable. It was stupid of him to expect Sam to wait for him forever, to not move on, he left her; he was the bad guy in this equation. He hurt her, she had the right to hurt him – but that didn't make him feel any better.

He'd never told her before, but maybe he wished now that he had. If he could have just said those three words, maybe she would have waited longer, he couldn't be sure, but just maybe it would have made a difference.

He remembered the moment when he knew he loved her, it was like someone switching a light on, he always know he was highly attracted to her – but love was a different matter all together. He'd always thought love was a slow process it had been with his wife, but with Sam, just one moment told him that he never wished her to leave his side – ever. (But yet he still had, because he had too much pride to walk away from his family, to risk loosing his daughters, or perhaps he was just a coward. Who knew?)

He'd never seen her look so vulnerable before, vulnerable and beautiful – it was the morning after and he was getting ready to leave, being as quite as he possibly could, as not to wake her, he never wished her to see him leave. Some actions hurt more than they were intended too.

Dressed and sneaking his way towards her bedroom door he took one look back at her, her blonde hair lay splayed out across the pillow and her right arm across the bed, covering the spot where he was just minutes before. Her ruby lips were open slightly, her eyes closed tight, her chest rising and fall rhythmically with the complete dissolve of sleep. Never before had Samantha Spade looked so vulnerable, at work she always kept her guard up, she would never let anyone see her falter. Because she knew what that meant, she was revealing weakness, and Samantha Spade wasn't weak.

But as she lay there he could see the real her, the one who wanted to share so much with people, but was too afraid of what they would think. In that moment he had seen the other side of her, the side he wanted to know more about.

His feet were frozen to the carpet; all of a sudden the urge to leave silently and quickly was not as compelling. He could still smell her perfume on his clothes, could still taste her on his lips. He just wanted to stand and watch her, be there when her chocolate brown eyes fluttered open and she stretched softly, rumpling the bed sheets. But he knew he would never see that, not unless it was accompanied by that glint of sorrow in her eyes, because he was about to leave, or the small tear that threatened to caress her cheek on its slow downward path.

Yes Jack Malone loved Samantha Spade in that one moment.

That was the one look that changed his life forever.

He would never forget that moment.

He wondered if she had ever loved him? Or if she did love him . . . But she seemed far too smitten with Martin for any sparks on her side to remain for him. But he was still holding to the hope that Samantha hid her feelings well, and he was hoping that she was hiding her true feelings for him. Because if he had one moment to tell her when she wasn't connected to someone else, he would, no matter if she pushed him away, he just had to know the truth. Did she love him too? Of course that was all well and true in thought, but if ever came to that day, would Jack Malone stick true to his word? He couldn't tell, he only hoped he would find the courage within for that moment . . . If it ever came.

/-

He was watching them, he tried not too but he had to steal a glance of them together every now and again, he felt threatened by the other mans presence. He didn't know how naïve Sam believed him to be, but apparently it was quite a lot, because she never once thought that he suspected anything of those long hours she spent with Jack some days, and she never seemed bothered by his pleasant but not so subtle inquiries about her day. Maybe she knew what he was getting at, but she never seemed bothered by it. Maybe because there was nothing to hide, but yet he knew she was still pushing him away, whether she knew that or not and would she do that if she didn't have something to hide?

Maybe all he was to her was just a physical connection, ten minutes of escape via pleasure for one day, every time she was with him, he didn't feel she was really there; he felt beaten without a real chance in battle to prove himself.

He just wanted her to look at him and see what he was really offering her: love, companionship, and stability – A chance to escape. Once he believed there was a time he could make her see these things; but now he wasn't fooled by her act, he was merely a puppy dog on a leash to her.

He angrily crushed the piece of worthless paper in his hand as he tossed it in the bin; he loved her – why couldn't she love him? Why Jack? What was so amazingly about the man, he broke her heart, he screwed her over – he went back to his wife, Sam was just his bit on the side.

He was still watching them. They were standing too close . . .

They seemed far to intimate for his liking heads bent towards each other, hands jumping nervously at their sides as if they didn't know where to place them without looking suspicious, eyes never leaving each other. It was the gazes that got him the most, did she not think he would notice the way she looked at Jack. The way she pinned for him every day, the way that every time Jack looked at them together, Sam would look down or look away, shuffle paper nervously anything to stop from feeling whatever it was she felt in those moments.

Sam would never look at him that way.

He knew he was loosing and he hated it, he hated himself for loosing. He should have know he was entering a game with only one winner – Jack Malone - The one and only. His frustration was growing, bubbling under the surface, as Jack passed her a file, their fingers brushed together for what seemed like an eternity; an accidental touch – or so it would seem.

He almost felt guilty for watching them; there should be more trust than this. Sam would never hurt him, not intentionally anyway.

Why was he feeling so intimated? She came home to him every night, not Jack, nobody else just him. She came home with that smile on her face, that glint in her eyes, but why did that smell of sorrow and loneliness still surround her like a plague? Why every time he kissed her did she taste like regret? And why could he always remember the one moment in which he wished for more from her? although he shouldn't have expected it . . .

If he could just hear those three words from her then maybe he could relax, because he knew Samantha wasn't careless with her words and she wouldn't say something without meaning it – or at least he thought so.

He remembered when he had told her he loved her, she had frozen still; he'd almost panicked and regretted his actions, but then he reminded himself he shouldn't regret his true feelings.

He'd always been taught not to run from the truth.

Her eyes were still soft, at least they hadn't grown as rigid as her expression, but what he wanted to see in them, he didn't see reflected. Maybe it was all too soon. Maybe if he'd seen it in her eyes that night, he wouldn't feel so intimidated now, wouldn't feel like it actually pushed her further away in that one moment than he ever intended too.

Although he tried not too, Martin regretted telling her the truth that night, because if had waited just a little bit longer, maybe he would have a chance at making her truly his . . .

Why couldn't he just ask her if she still had feelings for Jack Malone? It wasn't really that hard of a question, but somehow the words never left his tongue when he was around her.

/-

"Sam is everything okay?" She knew Jack was inquiring because she had been late to work several times now and it was beginning to become a pattern. As he looked into her eyes, she merely froze on the spot, such a simple question evoked so many emotions in her, and she wanted to say 'No it's not okay.' To tell him so much more than he had asked, tell him that every night she had that same dream, that everyday she thought about what they had, that every time she looked into Martins eyes she knew this was a relationship bound for heartbreak, because she could never return what was being given to her.

She wanted to tell him that she didn't want her heart to belong to him, but it he had it and it didn't appear she was getting it back anytime soon, she wanted to tell him that every time he moved closer to her, her heart skipped a beat, her body tingled. That every time he looked at her with those beautiful eyes of his, her heart melted, her knees weakened . . .

But she knew she never could, because she was a coward. To afraid to hurt Martin's feelings, to afraid to admit completely to herself that she wasn't over Jack, to afraid to tell Jack what she really wanted.

So as she always did and assumed she probably always would she settled for the easy option out of any scrutiny - coward-ness. "I'm fine…" Like always she knew he could see right through her lying and like always she knew he would never press the matter. After he handed her the file, they parted like they always did, with almost sorrowful looks upon their faces.