Thanks to everyone who's hanging in with this story. Here's the latest contribution...!

Too Good To Be True
By: Mariel

Chapter 19

Jack stepped out of the elevator and paused to look up at the wall clock. He was still in his tuxedo, but looked less formal now, his tie undone and hanging loosely around the open neck of his shirt. Rasping his fingers across his long-past-five five o'clock shadow, he groaned inwardly. Almost midnight. He should never have had that damned coffee with dessert. Tired as hell, but wide awake, he'd dropped Janice off at home and then, knowing sleep was still a distant possibility, had swung back to work to pick up his suit and perhaps go through a couple of files while the caffeine wore off.

A soft glow of light coming from the bullpen area alerted him to the presence of someone else on the floor. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked slowly towards the light, wondering who would be here at this hour.

He stopped when he saw who. Samantha. She sat with her back towards him, reading a file he was sure had come from the boxes they'd retrieved from Victoria Newbury's that afternoon. He remained in place, drinking in the sight of her and allowing himself a moment of melancholy over what had been lost.

It wasn't long before she sensed his presence and turned.

"Hey," she said softly, her heart beating slightly harder at the sight of him.

"Hey," he responded. Stepping closer, he asked, "What are you doing here? I thought you'd gone home." He kept his voice low, in keeping with the hour and the intimacy of the warm lighting.

She paused before answering him. She had gone to Martin's, but Martin had been moody, and when his questioning had become too bothersome, she had got up, gathered her coat, and told him good night. Not wanting to go home, she had found herself heading back to work.

That was hardly something she could tell Jack, though. Instead, she said, "I couldn't sleep, so figured I'd have a go at these for a few hours. What are you doing here? The concert's over?"

He nodded.

"Did you have a good time?"

He thought a moment, then said, "Yeah. I did."

She smiled. "I'm glad. You sound almost disappointed, though."

His mouth quirked. "Surprised might be a better word. But Janice has a way of making even painful things bearable."

That hadn't been something she needed to hear.

"And where is Janice now?" she asked. "She doesn't mind your slipping off to work at this hour?"

He shook his head. "She's at home, getting some writing done. She likes to get things down on paper while it's fresh in her mind."

She tried not to wince at how domestic he sounded.

"And what's your excuse for being here?" she asked

"Coffee."

Familiar with this particular failing of his, she grinned. He hated decaf and always played the odds that if he stuck to just one cup, maybe the caffeine wouldn't bother him too much.

He could never stick to just one cup, though.

"Serves you right," she scolded. "You know better." She smiled in spite of herself. "How many, and were they worth it?"

"Only two, and yeah, they were. They knew how to brew a perfect cup. Strong, and tasty. My theory is they make irresistable so people drink it and then can't fall asleep during the performance even if they want to."

Samantha turned her head to one side and looked at him with amused eyes. "You could be right. It obviously worked on you."

He smiled. "It did." Sobering, he glanced at the files and explained his presence. "I figured I'd pick up my suit and maybe read a couple files until I know I can sleep."

Reaching over to pick up one of the files, he asked, "Find anything interesting?"

She shrugged. Thinking of the anecdotal information she'd read that described each woman's reasons for needing assistance, she said, "It's all interesting. Sad, too. But if you're asking me if I found anything that strikes me as important, then no, I haven't. But I've only read through a couple."

Jack nodded, knowing that she would have been unable to merely glance through the files quickly in a search for cold, hard facts. She would have read each one thoroughly, so that she felt as though she knew each woman and what she had gone through intimately.

Looking over at the conference table, he said, "I might as well start reading, too, I guess." Noticing the bare whiteboard, he inclined his head towards it and suggested, "Perhaps we should set that up, so we can put information on it as we go."

Samantha nodded, glad that his suggestion indicated he would work out here with her, and not take files into his office to read.

"Have a seat, then," she said. "You can tell me what you think we need. Then I'll fill you in on what I've got so far. After that, you can read to your heart's content."

Reaching for a dry marker, she walked over to the board. "What do you want to start with?"

Moving to sit on the edge of the conference table, he crossed his arms and allowed a slight frown to mar his brow while he thought. "We know we've got thirty-one files. Write small, because I want them all up there. Make the first column numbers. We'll go through the files in order - first to last. Then we'll put the real name of the person, followed by a column for their alias."

She made the columns, and listed numbers one to thirty-one down the left hand side. Then she made the name columns and labelled them appropriately. "We'll need a column for sending and receiving contact people," she said, moving to make the required columns.

"And another for if they're missing, dead, or okay." Jack offered. He watched as she wrote, enjoying the easy way they worked together. "And the city in which they were last seen," he added, fighting the urge to go over to stand closer to her.

He wondered what she'd think if she knew how she affected him.

She turned. When her eyes met his, she hesitated, as though she saw something in them that gave her pause.

He looked away quickly. Clearing his throat, he told her, "You've read the first couple of files, so you should fill in your info while I start on the next one."

"I need to number the files so that when we're all putting information up we know where to put it," she said, trying to recover her equilibrium.

Jack nodded. "Good idea." Everything organised, he moved to a chair, sat down, and took out the next file.

When Samantha finished with the whiteboard, she moved to stand beside Jack and the box of files on the table beside him. Methodically, she numbered each one in order. She could smell his cologne and the warm maleness of him. Twice she brushed against him as she maneuvered the files in and out of their boxes. Finally finished, she sat in a chair across from him. A contented silence settled over the two as they worked.

-XXX-

It was almost two o'clock when Jack took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I think that's it for me. Time to go home and hit the sack." Looking over at Samantha, he said, "You should go, too. Tomorrow morning is only a few hours away."

Samantha nodded. Truth be told, she'd been ready to leave about the time he'd arrived, but once he'd shown up, she had wanted nothing but to take advantage of the opportunity to spend time with him.

She was glad she had. It had felt good to be alone in the quiet with him like this, even if it had dragged up emotions and memories she should probably learn to leave alone.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she said. Setting down the file she'd been reading, she sat back. "It was a good day," she commented, still unwilling to see the end of it.

Jack reflected on the information they'd gathered, and nodded. "Yeah. The stories behind why they've been doing what they've been doing were interesting."

Samantha smiled. She'd guessed that would have been what had interested him the most. The human experiences that made people who they were intrigued the psychologist in him. Pausing, she wondered what he thought about their past together, and if he had tried to analyse that.

Setting aside the thought, she asked about the event he had attended. That led to a brief description of the other people at the table, the food, and the concert - which, he told her, had not been too terrible. -to his surprise, he had even recognised a couple of the pieces played. Finally, however, Jack rose.

"That's it. If I don't leave now, I'll turn into a pumpkin." The temptation to stay and talk to her until dawn had to be resisted.

Samantha laughed. "A very well dressed one, at least!" she said, unable to refrain from giving him another quick once-over. He'd taken his jacket off an hour ago, then removed his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. His tie still hung loosely around his neck. Tearing her eyes away, she looked at the whiteboard and commented. "We'd better fill in the last few details before we go."

Jack nodded and they both rose and moved to stand in front of the whiteboard. Reaching for the dry marker at the same time, their hands touched and they paused, looking first down at their hands, then up into each other's eyes.

The silence in the room shrieked in their ears. Samantha looked down at her hand again. It still clung to the marker. Jack's hand encircled both.

"Jack..." she said, the name a whisper.

His face stiffened. "Sorry," he said, releasing her hand as though it burned him. Tearing his eyes away from her, he asked in a remote tone, "What was the name of the last woman's contact?"

Trembling, Samantha stepped away and turned to face the board.

She hesitated, then turned back towards him, wanting she didn't know what...

He was regarding her with dark eyes, and her heart stopped.

"Samantha?"

She lowered her head, unable to look at him again. Searching for words to answer his question about the contact, she found she could think of nothing but her reaction to his touch.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice low. Wanting desperately to step forward and lean against him, her head on his shoulder, she continued, "I must be tired...I don't remember. I'll have to go through the file again."

He continued to look at her, wondering if he dared ask, if he would be too wounded by her response. Inhaling deeply, he gathered his courage. Swiping his hand through his hair, he wondered how to phrase what he wanted to say. Finally, he asked, "What's wrong? I know-" He stopped, remembering the glimpses of unhappiness in her eyes he had sometimes caught.

"I know there's something on your mind. You haven't been yourself lately. At least not always. Is everything all right? Are you happy? If there's something worrying you..." He paused again, then raised a hand to touch her arm. "I know we're kind of in a weird place with each other because of our past, but our past also means we've shared enough that I hope you know you can talk to me."

Samantha felt ready to weep. Happy? He wondered if she were happy. She wanted to scream that of course she wasn't. How could she be? She was watching him get his life back together without her. For a second time, she was being forced to live with his walking out of her life, never to return. She felt crippled. She'd made a mess of it with both Martin and with Jack and she didn't think she could bear loving one and being with the other, but was too torn and uncertain to do anything but let life carry her along in a regret-filled current she didn't feel she had the strength to combat.

She shook her head. "Jack, I don't think this is something we should talk about...not now. I-" She stopped abruptly, then elected for honesty. Or partial honesty, at least. "It's not something I can talk about just yet. I'm trying to sort things out. Sometimes I feel as though my life is getting away form me, you know? As though I don't have any control over anything..."

He nodded, trying to understand. When he opened his mouth to respond, however, he was interrupted by the phone on her desk ringing. Watching as Samantha moved to answer it, he saw her expression change when she heard the voice on the other end of the line.

"Yeah. I'm here...No, I wasn't tired. I thought I could get a few things done here." She glanced a Jack. "Let's talk about that later, okay?" Obviously listening with impatience, she paused, then said, "It's okay. ...No, I'm on my way home, now...No, I need to get a few things there and check my mail...Yeah. I'll see you in the morning..."

Jack had nothing to say after the one-sided conversation. He was certain it had been Martin, and that he'd been calling to see that she was okay. It was good, he told himself, that someone was looking out for her. And it was probably her relationship with Martin that was causing her worry. He expected it was getting serious, and there would be the accompanying decisions to make. Knowing her as he did, he knew each decision would be a big step for her. He looked at her, saw that there was now some sense of urgency about her and, misinterpreting it, thought she was in a hurry to leave.

"You go ahead. I'll finish this up and go home." He forced a smile. "Have a good sleep."

Not knowing what to say, Samantha nodded and gathered up her purse and keys. Cursing Martin for his ill-timed phone call, she said, "I'll see you in the morning, then."

"See you then," he echoed.

She tried to read what was in his eyes, but failed. With one last look at him, she sighed and headed towards the elevator.

End
Chapter 19