A/N: Thanks to all for the reviews, as my fellow writers know, they make our day... And Mariel, only a couple of tweaks incurred, I promise! Thanks for your help, as always.

xx--

August 2001

This wasn't how Samantha had imagined her first night with Jack would be.

It wouldn't involve a garish motel room off a road in the middle of nowhere.

It wouldn't have been so…so angry either.

Not that she'd spent a lot of time imagining what it would be like to make love, have sex, sleep, whatever, with Jack Malone; but recently, she had been spending all her time wondering what it would be like. This was the first case with just the two of them. The long hours had thrown them together and she was totally smitten. It had been building up for some time. The looks. The 'accidental' touches. And now…

He had exhausted her, certainly. Fulfilled her in a completely carnal way. She'd been impressed. She couldn't help but wonder if she had been used as an outlet for his anger, and, although he tried to hide it, his grief. She was hoping against hope it wouldn't be the only time, but the enormity of the situation was just hitting home. Older. Married. Boss. It was about as attractive as it could be.

Jack had not imagined it like this, either. Thinking about it was one thing, acting on it another. He had been thinking about it and her longer than he realized, but hadn't really resolved to put any thoughts into action. But some things were unavoidable. Samantha certainly was unavoidable. He stared at the ceiling.

Seeing Julie Emerson's body in the car had nearly unhinged him. They'd arrived just before her body was being removed from the car. He was so tired from the long hours he and Samantha had spent searching for her, that when she'd been found like that, lifeless, yet peaceful, he hadn't known how to react.

Fighting with Maria over the lateness of the call that alerted him to the find didn't help either. He'd wanted to slam the door when he'd left, but hadn't wanted to wake the girls. He'd told her not to wait up, even though he'd known she wouldn't have anyway -it gave him some small satisfaction to say it. Some small gesture of control. She'd never understood his job, always distancing herself from the reality of it.

After the call and before the fight, he'd rung Samantha to tell her about Julie Emerson, and that he was going to the scene. She'd asked to go with him. He'd agreed, not surprised, and told her to bring a thermos of coffee. Picking her up, they'd driven an hour and a half in comfortable silence. Something else he liked about her. It was becoming a long list.

Julie Emerson had been found a long way from home, in some woods, and died a lonely death. It had been reported as suicide, but Jack knew better, staring at the car she'd been found in. It was a jigsaw puzzle he had solved before. Sometimes people gassed themselves in their car and succeeded. Sometimes they were interrupted before they could finish the job. And sometimes other people helped them along… Jack shook his head to clear it, and rubbed his eyes.

Jack had known that Steve Emerson had killed his wife and made it look like suicide; he could feel it in his bones. He was shaking so much with pent up emotions he could barely think straight. Could hardly hear Samantha saying it was time to go, it was out of their hands, to give her the keys, it was nearly midnight, get in the car.

He refocused again after twenty minutes of driving. Looking up and out the window he wondered where the hell they were. "Sam, did we come this way before?"

Samantha frowned. "Yes, this is the main road back…It's about an hour to go. You okay?" She was concerned for him. He'd gone strange like this after another similar case, where the victim had been gassed in a car. She wondered why, but knew better than to ask. Worried at his mood, she reached over with her free hand and placed it on top of his, which was resting on his thigh.

He stared at her hand for a moment, before turning his hand over and squeezing hers. She was warm, and so tempting, and he was so married. "I'm not sure," he sighed, being honest.

Samantha smiled at him. "I'm here for you." She said it out aloud without thinking, and quickly moved her hand back onto the steering wheel.

He managed a small smile back, watching her, as he thought about what just happened. But his feelings about the case hadn't gone away while he was brooding. He needed something; he just didn't quite want to recognize what it was.

They drove on for a few miles in silence. Samantha tried to concentrate on the road and not on the man seated next to her. It was difficult. His presence was always hard to ignore, and getting harder to ignore by the second. He just doesn't know how he affects me.

Jack indicated a bright motel sign ahead. "Pull in there."

Good idea, thought Samantha. I could collapse right now. She pulled into the car park, turned off the engine and sat, expectantly.

Jack was looking out the side window at the reception, lost in thought. If I've read this wrong…

"Jack?" she prompted.

"I think we should stay here tonight," he stated.

"Yeah," she agreed, looking around. "We've done a lot of driving today."

Quietly, he said, "I need to know something." He couldn't look at her, only at the dashboard. How can I put this? She'll probably shoot me…

Samantha froze. Any fatigue she felt just evaporated. Oh Christ. The car suddenly became very claustrophobic.

He took a deep breathe, and plunged into the abyss. "I'm your boss; I can't initiate this, so I'm leaving the decision up to you. If I use the department's credit card, we'll get two rooms… If I use cash…we'll get one room." He looked at her now, his eyes intensely searching hers. "It's your call, Sam."

He thought he might pass out there and then. What the hell am I doing?

But he knew which choice he wanted; he just hoped she would want it too. God, he needed her tonight. He couldn't have misunderstood her by now.

She met his stare. My call…

Heart suddenly hammering, she made her decision. "Cash it is, then."

xx--

And here they were, sprawled on the bed, both lost in their own thoughts.

Jack was feeling a strange mixture of emotions, with guilt and excitement uppermost. Guilt about his family. Excitement at the dormant feelings Samantha had aroused in him. Guilt that he was so unhappy with his wife and their marriage that it had come to this. A different kind of guilt at the frantic, rough sex he and Samantha just had. Excitement that she had certainly seemed to have enjoyed it.

Did he regret any of it?

No.

He turned his head to look at her, taking in her golden hair, fanned out on the pillow and wondered what she was thinking.

Samantha in turn looked over at him, and saw the small frown between his brows she knew so well. This is it, this is the part where he says he's sorry, and we shouldn't have done this, and that's it, see you at work Agent Spade… Just great…

He surprised her by moving over and against her side, reaching out his hand to lightly brush his fingertips along her cheek and down her jaw. He was looking at her with such tenderness and warmth that she knew she shouldn't have been concerned.

"Jack…" she began, but he silenced her with a delicate kiss, which gradually deepened. She inwardly sighed as she brought her hand up to nape of his neck, her fingertips finding his hair.

He wanted her again, definitely, but this time as it should have been, -slowly, intensely, with caresses and sighs, lingering touches. He would show her how he wanted it to be with her. He didn't know quite what would happen after tonight, but he knew he didn't want morning to come. He had to let her know how he felt about her, and if he couldn't articulate it in words right now, he could certainly do so with actions.

This wasn't going to be for one night, he knew that much.

And she knew it too.

xx--

August ended with Forensics not able to find anything to conclusively target Steve Emerson. The car had been shared; his hair, clothing fibers, and fingerprints were everywhere. The scene had been compromised by some unseasonal rain and by the excited teenagers that had found the car. The coroner ruled it as suicide. Jack knew enough not to press it; there was nothing tangible to go on. He put the file away, thinking to return to it in the future, as was his way in that type of case.

Then 9/11 happened, and there were so many, many missing people. Jack and Samantha's affair intensified if anything; the long and often futile hours coupled together with the chance of life's fragile state ending prematurely threw them together more than they expected. The seeds of Jack's guilt regarding his family also started to grow, inexorably.

And Julie Emerson's case went further down the pile.

xx--