Thanks to everyone who's read "The Cost' for the first time or re-read it because of Terry's presence in this story and been thoughtful enough to send a comment about it. Wow. Really cool.. For those of you still patient enough to read and review this story: you have my unfailing gratitude!

Diane, thanks heaps.

Justine. Get writing. And those clandestine, 'not-so-public' kick in the butts?...be careful. I sometimes counterattack...

Sorry for the delay...If you remember, Terry had just learned about Samantha and Martin Fitzgerald, and he, Jack, and Janice were about to leave for dinner...

Too Good To Be True
By: Mariel

Chapter 13

Jack's dinner with Terry and Janice had been filled with traded insults, happy memories and none of the barbed probes into his personal life he had feared. Instead, for a few hours he'd shed his worries, forgot the things that depressed him, and enjoyed himself. Saying goodnight outside the bar they had ended up in, Jack had watched as his two friends shared a taxi back to their respective hotels. Turning to walk towards where he'd left his car, he dug his hands into his pockets and smiled. Life was good - and made better by having people around he could share with. His life these past years, he realised, had had too little of that kind of sharing

With the word sharing, his thoughts automatically turned to the woman he most wanted to share his life with. Carefully touching the now-familiar sense of hurt and loss, he sighed. Even though he knew it unfair and irrational, he had somehow thought Samantha would always be there, waiting for some unknown time in the future when the timing would be right. Seeing her move on, and finding happiness and love with someone else, had wounded him in a way he had not known possible.

An overwhelming sense of loneliness that not even an evening spent with friends could prevent swept over him. Taking a deep breath, he opened his car door and got in.

-XXX-

The next day, any calm that the Missing Persons Department had been enjoying was quickly destroyed. Two children were reported missing within three hours of Jack's arrival at his office, then later that afternoon an adult woman was reported missing. Over the next three weeks he and his team were constantly busy, solving one case only to have another missing person's case take its place. Totally committed, the team had worked long hours, and even after calling in more help, had rarely gotten more than a few hours off in any given twenty-four hour period.

Now, finally, things seemed to be letting up. At least Jack hoped they were. Sitting in his office, he picked up a file folder that had never left his desk. In spite of his preoccupation with his own duties, he had kept tabs on the investigation into Georgina Blackwell's murder and the missing Filipino women. Looking at the phone, he wondered if he should call Terry, then thought against it. He had maintained contact with Terry after he had returned to his home base in Los Angeles, and knew he would have called if there had been any further developments. Now, with things quieted down in his own department and spurred on by the lack of progress on the NYPD's part, he hoped to soon resume his own investigation.

Sighing heavily, he looked at the clock, then leaned back in his chair and took off his reading glasses. Rubbing his eyes, he wondered if it would be worth it to go home for a few hours' sleep or if it would be better just to lie down on the office couch and nap there. Unable to make a decision, he decided to lie down while he thought about it.

-XXX-

A light touch on his shoulder brought him slowly awake.

"Jack," a soft voice said.

He moved slightly, turning his face away from whomever threatened his sleep.

"Jack!" This time, the voice was accompanied by a gentle shaking of his shoulder.

He remained silent, unwilling to move.

"Jack," the voice spoke again, softly insistent.

Keeping his eyes firmly closed, he finally spoke. "You're not going to go away, are you?"

"Not a chance."

He could feel the warm amusement behind the reply:

Opening one eye and then the other, he looked at his tormentor and thought her beautiful. Samantha was kneeled beside him, her face only inches from his own. Caught with his guard down, he stared at her as memories washed over him. Longing surged through him, heavy and insistant. He raised a hand as though to touch her, then paused and let it drop. Slowly gathering his defences together, he cleared his throat and looked away.

"What time is it?"

"Four o'clock," she said. Feeling a sense of disappointment she couldn't define, she leaned back and straightened up.

"A.M. or P.M.?"

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "When was the last time you slept?"

He grimaced. "I don't remember."

"Well, it's A.M., and you were snoring. Loudly. Very loudly."

Slowly, he sat up and swung his legs so that his feet touched the floor. In a querulous tone, he told her, "What I do in the privacy of my own office is my business. Now, why did you come in and wake me up? And if it's four A.M., why the hell are you even here?"

Totally unaffected by his abruptness, Samantha moved away and said, "I didn't make it home - I fell asleep at my desk. When I woke up, I started working, assuming I was here alone. Then I heard this godawful noise coming from your office." She looked at him, a suspicion of fondness warming her expression. "I thought someone was in here killing a bear," she added lightly. "It's hard to believe one person can make that much noise..."

"Don't be funny," Jack grumbled. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he allowed himself a moment to feel old and tired.

She looked at him closely, worry creasing her brow. These past few weeks had taken their toll. Normally, even at the busiest of times, he would have gone home to see the girls, or to grab a nap or a meal with the family. Usually, he returned with a new sense of energy about him. Now, with no one and nothing to call him there, he stayed at work.

She thought it did him little good.

Her voice now serious, she told him, "Jack, you've got to get some rest. You can't keep on like this. You should be home." Seeing that he didn't seem convinced, she added in a reasonable tone, "The paperwork's almost finished and there's no one on the whiteboard. You should leave and get some real rest. Everyone else has."

He knew that tone. She was trying to make him see reason when he didn't feel like seeing it. "I was resting here just fine until you woke me up," he said grumpily. Looking up at her, he asked, "And what do you mean, I can't keep on like this? I'm fine."

Samantha shook her head in disagreement. "Every one of us has had a day off here and there over the past few weeks except you. You've been living here, for heaven's sake. God, when was the last time you were even home?" She waved a hand at the elevators. "You've had Janice bringing you clean clothes and us bringing you in food..." Her hand moved upward, "...and you're showering upstairs." She shook her head again and dropped her hand. "You need a break. You need to get out of here. You need to go home and rest properly."

Jack slumped back into the sofa, trying to gather some strength to refute her words. "I've heard this argument already, Sam."

She paused, surprised. He didn't call her that anymore, almost never. Everyone else did now, it seemed, but he'd stopped. It was always 'Samantha' now - a quiet, multi-syllabic reminder of the distance between them.

She drew her wits about her. "From Janice?" she asked.

"From Janice."

Samantha struggled to keep her face expressionless. Of course Janice would have spoken to him. She fought down a surge of jealously. Janice had popped in and out regularly over the past few weeks, smiling and easygoing and disgustingly upbeat. She'd always spent a few moments alone with Jack, and recently there had been obvious concern on the older woman's face when she spoke to him. Though glad there was someone watching out for him, she still felt resentment. Time was, she would have said something herself, but now...She stifled a sigh. It wasn't her place to say anything at all.

"You should listen to your friend," she said reluctantly.

"I suppose I should," he admitted, still feeling groggy. "But she's not here at the moment. She's in D.C."

Something caught in Samantha's throat. That explained two things: why she hadn't seen Janice visit the last couple of days and also why he hadn't bothered to leave when the cases had begun to wind down. No Janice.

"You can still go home and get some sleep," Samantha insisted, trying to shut out the mental picture of Janice and him together.

He stared out into the bullpen, taking a mental inventory of how he felt.

The survey results weren't encouraging. Two hours sleep in the past forty-eight just hadn't been enough. A total of six in the past seventy-two definitely weren't. Maybe Samantha was right. Still trying to avoid making a decision, however, he asked, "So why the hell are you here, then?"

"I told you: I fell asleep."

His eyes drifted back towards the bullpen. "And Martin? Where's he? You were both supposed to go home and get some rest before coming in to finish the paperwork today."

Not liking the way he'd clumped her and Martin together, Samantha said, "He went home. I didn't. I wasn't in yesterday until late in the morning, remember? I decided to stay and get a head start on today." She looked rueful, then added, "Would have, too, if I hadn't fallen asleep."

"You were more tired than you thought," Jack said, noticing - not for the first time - the shadows beneath her eyes. His voice gruff with concern, he told her, "You should have gone home. Anything you planned to do tonight could have waited. This has been hard on all of us."

Samantha smiled tiredly and fought to stifle the memory of how satisfying they had found it to curl up against each other and share their weariness. Even after their affair had ended, there were nights they sat on his office sofa with their heads resting on the back of it and their shoulders comfortably touching and allowed the silence and each other's presence to restore themselves. The memory elicited a feeling of longing for him she'd never managed to rid herself of. She wanted to sit down beside him now, and lean her head on his shoulder and close her eyes...Pushing her thoughts firmly aside, she said, "My point exactly. It's been hard on you, too."

He leaned forward again, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. With the adrenaline of working a case gone, he felt enervated and weak.

"Maybe you're right. I think I'm on empty."

Samantha looked at him in surprise. None of it showed in her voice, however. "Of course I'm right," she said in a reasonable tone.

Jack rose. "I'm gone."

Samantha looked at him, noticed he was slightly unsteady on his feet.

"Let me drive you," she said impulsively. "I'm on my way home now, anyway." She looked down at herself. "I need a change of clothes."

It was a sure sign of how tired he was that he didn't argue. "Sounds good to me," he said as he gathered his jacket and headed for the door.

She watched him leave, then shook her head in exasperation. Gathering up the dirty clothing he'd been accumulating in a gym bag beside one of his filing cabinets, she then picked up two suit jackets off his coat rack and followed him out the door.

She'd leave them at the cleaners on the way.

-XXX-

Jack opened his eyes and took a moment to get a bearing on where he was. The phone ringing shrilly in his ear, he quickly ascertained he was in his apartment and in his bed. Reaching over, his hand fumbled around for the phone, found it, and then brought it to his ear.

"Malone."

"What the hell do you think you're doing sleeping at this hour?"

"What makes you think I'm sleeping?" Jack asked, suppressing a yawn. "And what hour is it?"

"It's just past noon. I'm back in town and in your office and you're not here. God, I leave for a while and you start slacking off. Samantha told me you're home, getting some sleep."

Jack slowly struggled to a sitting position. "Which, I might point out, you are sadly depriving me of. What's this all about?"

"You still interested in finding out Georgina Blackwell's story?" Terry said.

"Yeah, shouldn't I be?" Jack asked. Rising, he walked to his closet to see if he had any clean shirts left.

"Technically, no, you shouldn't. But I do appreciate anything you might dig up," Terry replied, "so I'm hoping you and your people can help me out. I've even got official permission to ask!"

There were three white shirts in his closet, still in the flimsy plastic they had come home from the cleaners in. Another bag held two suits. Bless Janice.

She had moved into his place more than a week earlier, letting her hotel room go. He, of course, hadn't been here to notice her presence, but the shirts lined up in front of him were a tangible proof of it.

"It'll help save on expenses, and quiet down my editor when he rants about how long I'm taking to write what needs to be written," she'd said, smiling. Jack had somehow doubted the excuse, thinking that what she'd said next was closer to her true reason: "And it'll give me a chance to keep an eye on you. We've both been so busy lately we hardly see one another. Perhaps if we're living in the same place we'll at least pass in the hallway occasionally." He'd had no objection to the idea.

Now, she was out of town for a couple of days and he discovered he missed her. In spite of how busy she'd been interviewing people and gathering background information for her series of articles, she had dropped by almost daily, even if it were just to bring him a clean set of clothing.

"You still there?" Terry asked.

"Yeah, I'm here," Jack said. Scratching his chest, he tried to clear his head. Shower. Shave. Dress. Get to work. His next few moves organised, he finally said, "I should be there in about forty-five minutes. I've just got to shower and throw some clothes on."

There was a short bark of laughter on the other end of the line, making Jack immediately regret his choice of words.

"The world will thank you for doing both! And take your time choosing what to wear...I can only imagine the difficulty in choosing between a white shirt and a white shirt! And then there's the terrible debate over which black tie to put with it...I don't know how you handle the stress," Terry teased.

There was a pause, then he continued in a suddenly somber voice, "There's another woman reported missing in Houston, and NYPD found a body here today we may be interested in. I'll fill you in when you get here."

"See you then," Jack said. Walking over to the bedside table, he placed the phone back on its cradle and headed for the shower. His bones still felt weary, but the idea of a possible lead lightened his step.

End
Chapter 13