I woke up on a familiar leather couch with my face smashed against its stiff back and legs dangling off the side. I pried my skin from the leather and felt my cheek which was imprinted with the pattern of the wrinkled jacket I had slept in. Slowly, I sat up and immediately was greeted by the dull, throbbing head ache and nausea of a hangover. Wait. I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed before glancing down at my clothes…which were, to my extreme relief, still on my body. I had leaned by head back against the wall when the door to the quiet office swung open. Jack, not noticing me, walked straight to his desk and began to sit down before seeing that I was awake and jumping back up again.
"You're awake," he observed in a hoarse voice that sounded as if a bad cold was settling on his chest. I nodded grimly, trying to stand up. After a few attempts of which I was grateful that Jack did not try to help me, I was standing and straightening my rumpled clothes. "I didn't think you'd regain consciousness for at least a couple hours." He managed a quick smile. "I guess you can hold your liquor." Liquor. What had I done last night?
"Jack?" I coughed, rubbing my forehead with one hand while the other rested on my hip. "What did I—how did I get here? Did I…get drunk?" Something on his face flickered and I just barely saw it. He frowned.
"Do you not remember?" I shook my head slowly, the sinking feeling in my stomach escalading. He crossed the room and stood so that we met shoulder to shoulder, and whispered into my ear. "You made sounds I've never heard a woman make before." My face burned though it blanched to a ghostly pale as I stumbled backwards, gaping open-mouthed. His face was serious and intense, and as I felt a tingling sensation along the tips of my fingers, he suddenly broke into a tired grin that hid something that he was struggling to keep repressed and walloped my shoulder roughly. My heart resumed normal functions and I glared at him angrily.
"Go to hell," I hissed as he handed me a steaming cup of coffee. I eyed it suspiciously before taking it from him. "This isn't spiked, is it?" Jack shook his head and returned to his desk, sitting on his chair. I sipped from it and it was surprisingly good for black coffee. "But honestly, Jack. What happened last night? I—I got pretty shaken yesterday and I can't remember a thing." I ran my fingers through my hair until they caught in a series of knots half-way down my scalp. He interlaced his fingers and looked at me straight in the eye.
"You did get drunk," he began, and I winced. "We went to McAllister's around four in the afternoon and stayed there until about twelve." He saw my surprised look and nodded. "And then I realized I had no idea where you lived and just took you back to my office. So, here you are." I downed the rest of the coffee, finally awake and conscious, and stood up. However, something dawned on me and I looked at Jack curiously.
"You stayed here all night?" I asked incredulously. He shrugged and went back to the file he was analyzing.
"So were you," he mumbled offhandedly. I nodded at his vagueness and shuffled out of the office. Vivian smiled at me from the cubicles where she was lecturing a rookie, and mouthed are-you-feeling-better? to which I waved yes. I slid over to my office and managed to barricade myself in it without getting caught in Martin's gaze which I knew was following me to a tee.
I sighed once I sliced the slats of my Venetian blinds to a close and flicked on my desk lamp. Kicking open my closet, I took out the spare dress suit and blouse that I kept there for emergencies. After I changed I brushed my hair and splashed water over my groggy features until I could manage to call myself awake. I heard a knock at my door and opened it reluctantly. Danny stood in the threshold of the door and, taking one look at me, burst out laughing. I punched him and took the interrogation report that he handed me. I barely managed to suppress the wave of nausea that overcame me when I thought of the man who had brought on my breakdown yesterday.
"Vivian wants you to go over these when you get a chance," he informed me, sliding his hands in his pockets. "The NYPD have him under tight surveillance at the State Penitentiary, and you can set up another interview with him through Vivian." If you're up to it. I saw him biting back these words and looked away.
"Thanks, Dan," I said, forcing a cheery smile. However, he looked down and shifted his weight; there was more. "Something else?"
"Yeah," he answered, taking a deep breath and letting it hiss out through his teeth before handing me a note which I read frantically. "Sam, don't get angry, it's really for the—" The paper fell from my fingers which I found I couldn't stop from shaking.
"They want to put me in an asylum?" I whispered in a low voice which shook in fear and anger. "I break down once and they want to put me away? I've been here eight years and never once, never once, have I fucked up a case and the minute I hesitate I get shipped off?" I turned and paced the room, spots blotching at my vision. Danny entered the room and shut the door behind him.
"Sam, I—"
"How do I deserve this? It isn't even that serious! If you were face to face with a cold-blooded murderer, would you flinch? Would you?" He watched me, trying to empathize desperately, I could tell.
"Sam, listen to me," he grabbed my shoulders gently and squeezed nervously. "I'm not supposed to really say this, but it's not just today. This is for all the other times it's happened, too. I mean, maybe it could help you, you know? It's not permanent…" I threw his hand off of me.
"Other times?" I repeated, my voice breaking in confusion.Danny sighed, and I knew I was making it difficult for him, but I didn't care. I wanted to know what was going on.
"They weren't as serious as today's, that's why it wasn't such a big ordeal…"
"Danny, what other times?" I demanded sharply. He shook his head sorrowfully, and watched me.
"You really don't remember, do you," he murmured regretfully, eyes troubled. "Sam, you've done this eight times over the past thirteen months. It's just…this is the first time that you've actually had an attack. And this is the first time you've remembered." I froze, my mind struggling to grasp the lunacy that Danny was insisting was truth. My comprehension stuck on something he said.
"Attack?" He nodded, and I laughed in a strange voice, shaking my head. "No, see, that's where you're wrong. I was with Jack all night. I got drunk. I got drunk, Danny! I had a fucking hangover!" Danny ran a hand through his hair and looked intensely into my eyes.
"You didn't finish reading the summons," I picked the paper which had fallen to the floor up and scanned the remaining parts, not knowing what I was looking for. However, as Danny explained to me, my eyes froze on the signature requesting and permitting my admission to the Psychological Ward in Winchester. "Jack signed your release, Sam. He's the one who's been covering for you when you go through these things, but even he knows that this is getting serious."
Pure, agonizing fear plunged through me and pulsed along my veins. However, as the realization of what was happening dawned on me, the fear evolved into phobic anger. I threw open the door, ignoring Danny's pleas and saw Vivian's downcast gaze focused guiltily on the floor. I stormed over to Jack's office, aware of the silence that echoed throughout the building. I banged open Jack's door and flew into it. He looked up, eyes darkened but shut off from emotion. I held the letter in my hand which I held suspended before me, shaking and terrified.
"You," I stammered. "You knew. You lied to me, you son of a bitch! I can't believe you! How could you do this?" Suddenly, three men dressed neutrally in gray suits entered his office and took hold of my arms. I struggled vainly, kicking my legs and straining away from them as they bound my arms behind my back. "What are they doing to me, Jack? Where are they taking me? Jack, please. Please! Make them stop! Tell them to stop…." I trailed off emptily, my eyes filling with tears of surrender.
Jack was watching me with a face that was steadily breaking down from its stolid expression. The men waited for a response, but lead me from the office when there was none. I followed limply, still in dumb shock, keeping my eyes focused on the floor as everyone else's bore straight through me. They led me into the elevator and said something in a quiet whisper into my ear before injecting a needle into my arm. Suddenly, I saw Jack burst from his office and shout my name, his voice raw with feeling. However, blood rushed in my ears and I heard nothing, and soon fell away into darkness.