Disclaimer: I still don't own WaT, but I love playing with the characters. Please, someone just send me Jack and I'd be happy. My husband would understand...
A/N: I wasn't planning on writing a sequel to Another Life, although I had a number of requests. I wasn't planning on a Christmas story, either. But the lovely Mariel dropped a casual hint to me late last week, so blame her or thank her, as this story is the result. So here it is, a Christmas sequel to Another Life (which really should be read to get into this one).
This story has been edited after Diane kindly pointed out the Boxing Day problem -thanks for that!
I wish you all a safe and happy festive season!
Christmas in Another Life
by jjbird
Staring at the bottom of his plastic cup, Jack wondered who the hell made the eggnog this year. It was awful. More awful was the fact that he'd finished it. He could feel it coating his tongue and was not pleased. He had luckily been designated chips and dips provider, and felt he had made some interesting selections, but the eggnog maker needed serious help… maybe at gunpoint.
Robertson ambled over with two beer-filled cups, a savior in a garish Christmas tie that actually lit up. Joining Jack, he leaned against the wall and surveyed the office festivities.
Jack gratefully took the proffered cup. "Here's to you Al, and I'm sorry, but that tie has got to go."
Robertson feigned indignation. "Jen bought me this years ago; it's the first time I've worn it here, actually."
"Because you're not being Santa this year?" Jack took a swig of beer, cleansing his palate of sticky sweetness.
"Yeah," Robertson said, a hint of longing in his voice. He gestured disgustedly at the man under the mistletoe who had taken over his role this year. "Look at Gianelli; he's too skinny, too smarmy, too young, and I was always a gentleman Santa. No complaints about being groped from the ladies on my watch, thank you very much!"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Remind me not to sit on his knee."
"Yech, the horror, the horror…" Robertson shivered dramatically. Then he smiled, changing tact. "So, when is Samantha flying in?"
The mere thought made Jack beam contentedly. It had been way too long. "On the 26th, around 5 pm," he said, raising his cup for a drink.
"Thank God for that… I don't think you can handle any more phone sex."
Jack spluttered into his cup. "What?" he managed incredulously, wiping beer off his chin. How the hell did he know about that?
Robertson was grinning wickedly. "Hello, FBI -remember? Come on, it's been months since you've seen each other, and certain mornings you come in much more relaxed, and casually mention something about talking to Samantha, so… it's a no-brainer, really." He leaned in a little closer. "I told you ages ago, you should both get a little camera for both your PCs, then you can… you know…" he whispered conspiratorially, "…actually watch…" Then, to Jack's surprise and horror, he winked.
In fact, Jack couldn't help but be amused; Robertson liked to live vicariously through him, but he always felt he was letting him down in the bachelor department.
He hadn't seen Samantha since their rapturous five days in spring. Those five days had consisted of a little sightseeing and a lot of making love. It had been one of the best times in Jack Malone's life.
He'd tried to fly to New York one weekend a couple of months back, but Samantha had a tough case continuing, so they'd agreed to put it off. Now it was all going to happen. Jack really couldn't wait. Here it was, Christmas Eve, and he'd be seeing her in two days. He'd sent her a ticket; guiltily making up for the trip she had taken before. His Christmas Day would be spent with the girls and his father; Maria having agreed to a combined Christmas for them at the house after all.
Everything was working out well.
He was a happy man.
He looked at Robertson, full of warmth for him. "I'll miss working with you, Al."
Robertson looked morosely into his cup. "I'm going to miss you too, pal… But we'll see you tomorrow night some time? You're still bringing the girls over?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world. Just tell Jen to keep her sugar cookies away from them; they ricocheted off the walls last time."
The older man raised his hands defensively. "Honorary grandparents can do what they like, that's the rule; you get the aftermath."
Jack smiled, finishing his drink. "I'm out of here." He clapped Robertson on the shoulder, made some goodbyes, and then set off homewards into the snow.
Xx—
Jack arrived at his apartment lightly covered with snow and laden with last minute groceries. He also had flowers and Samantha's favorite chocolates, Ferrero Rocher. She liked to frustratingly dissect them. It drove him crazy that she wouldn't just pop the whole thing into her mouth and be done with it. He was probably being over-romantic, but he wanted to be prepared, and to have everything perfect for her visit.
After closing the door and hanging up his coat, he knew something wasn't right. He stood quietly a few moments, listening. His eyes narrowed, and, thinking along the lines of not being fooled again, he gently pushed the door to the living room open.
And there she was, lying in a familiar black silk kimono amongst a pile of cushions in the center of the floor, a flute of champagne in each hand, waiting for him. Lit candles were clustered around the room.
She's going to be the death of me…
"Hey Sam," he blithely said, keeping a straight face as he carried the bags into the kitchen, flicking on the light. He started to put the groceries away, feeling her eyes boring into his back. "Good flight?" he asked, as if this was an everyday occurrence.
She blinked. This was not what she expected at all. "Ah…yes." She shifted her languorous pose a little. "Are you planning on coming over here… anytime soon?"
He risked a glance at her. God, she looks amazing. "Just got some things to do first."
She scowled as she watched him. "The champagne's going to go flat."
He located a makeshift vase for the flowers, reveling in the torture. "A few more minutes won't matter."
A woman can only handle so much. "Jack!" she practically whined.
"Okay, okay." Giving in, he put the flowers down, turned off the kitchen light, and came into the living room.
Samantha smiled seductively up at him. "Welcome home."
She was possibly the loveliest gift he'd ever seen and he couldn't wait to unwrap her.
The flicker of the candles highlighted her face and hair wonderfully, the tinsel and lights in his small Christmas tree sparkled, and there was snow outside. It finally felt like Christmas. If he had been merely happy before, he was absolutely delighted now.
"How long have you been creating a fire hazard with all these candles?" he asked genially, taking off his jacket, admiring the sight she'd created in the room, as well as that of herself.
Samantha was pleased with the effect she'd made. "Not long. Al said you had some things to do, and I didn't think the snow would hold you up… Come down here."
He eased himself down to lie on the floor, propping himself up with some cushions, then she handed him a flute, her eyes full of love for him.
"Merry Christmas, darling," she toasted him.
"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he said, before taking a sip of champagne. "So I'm guessing you took an earlier flight, and Al was in on it." He could imagine the smug smile on his friend's face.
"It was fairly last minute, but I managed it. He just kept me up to date with your arrangements… I really couldn't wait to see you." She smiled at him, watching him relax into the cushions with a sigh.
He looked at her lovingly, more interested in drinking in the vision of her than his wine. "It was a wonderful surprise," he whispered, leaning forward for a long awaited kiss.
It was worth the wait.
It always was.
She tasted of champagne and the promise of a warm future together. He loved being in love with her. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. It felt like he'd finally come home.
Pulling away, he let his eyes wander over her kimono. "I remember this… You used to wear it for me in New York. Very nice." He let a finger explore its way down the silken cleavage.
"Well, aside from the pearl pendant you gave me, it's all I'm wearing," she said dangerously, laying further back on the cushions, basking in his gaze.
"Is that a fact?" he enquired, his fingers toying with the sash holding the front together.
"Presents don't get to be opened until you've had a shower."
He tried his best puppy dog look. "Really…are you sure about that?" He tugged gently on the sash.
She was immune to that look; she'd succumbed to it too many times before. "Get going… and if you don't hurry up in there, I'll start without you…"
He didn't need to be asked twice; he was practically undressed before he reached the bathroom.
He was quick enough returning to make Samantha look doubtfully at him.
"Did the water actually touch you?" she asked, watching him tuck the towel around his waist as he padded across the carpet.
"Enough did to matter." He resumed his previous position on the floor, this time bare-chested and damp. "Now, where were we…?" He reached over to the sash again.
Samantha batted his hand playfully away. "I've got some news to tell you first."
Jack groaned. That shower should have been a cold one. "Well, now you're playing hard to get."
She laughed at that. "No, listen –my transfer came through at last."
The news he'd been hoping to hear. This Christmas was turning into one of the best ever. "Which division?" he asked, assuming it would be in the FBI.
It was. "The RCFL."
"The Regional Computer Forensic Laboratory?" He knew it all right. "The geek and nerd division?" Not the same building, but not too far down Canal Street.
"Hey, you're talking about me here!" she said, lightly slapping his arm, before taking his hand in hers. "Believe it or not, the experience I have from Missing Persons in searches and checks has wider uses which they can utilize. And best of all I'll be in Chicago with you!"
Despite her impending geekness, Jack was pleased; her joy was contagious. Now it was his turn. "Congratulations… and I have something to tell you, too. My transfer to the Missing Persons unit came through." He suspected that he might still be suffering alcohol poisoning from Robertson's celebratory night on the town for him, a week before.
"As a Supervisor?" Samantha asked hopefully, squeezing his hand tightly.
He nodded. "I know the team, and they're pretty good. It all happens in the New Year. I wanted to wait and tell you when I saw you."
They gazed into each other's eyes, happy in their small world.
She watched as he ruffled his drying hair. "And we get to wake up on Christmas morning together, for the first time."
"Ye-es," Jack suddenly realized that he was effectively bringing a date to the family Christmas. "Tomorrow's going to be a trial. I hope you're ready for a Maria bitching and snipe fest, because when she sees you turn up..." There was no question of not taking Samantha.
Samantha smiled enigmatically. "You'd better warn her then, and I brought my gun –just in case…" Jack hoped she was kidding -or not. "Anyway, what's Christmas without a bit of Grinch?" she lightly added.
Staring beyond Samantha to some candles, Jack could certainly remember a few times throughout the years. If it hadn't been his father having a go at him, then it had been Maria –a few glasses of wine loosening that vicious tongue of hers, always against him.
He was determined there would be none of that this year.
Concerned, Samantha reached a hand out to his chest, stroking the hair. "Hey, you okay?"
He shifted his attention back to her, banishing the ghosts of Christmas past, and wanting to concentrate on the present, and the future. Their future together.
She seemed to be reading his mind. She was good at that. "So, it's all coming together."
"Finally," he said softly, mesmerized as always by the beauty of her. "Seems like years, doesn't it?" He laced his fingers through her hair, drawing it out.
She gently pulled him towards her. "Some things are meant to happen when they happen."
"You going all philosophical on me now?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her.
She pulled him down, enjoying the weight of him against her. "Oh yes, and that towel is definitely coming off."
He happily obliged, before settling between her legs again. Home indeed.
He found the sash and pulled it away. "And you can keep the kimono on," he huskily whispered into her ear.
She sighed blissfully, as he began slowly kissing her neck. "I love happy endings…"
Xx--