Not Here

All Without A Trace characters belong to Hank Steinberg and the folks with Jerry Bruckheimer Television in association with Warner Bros. Television and CBS Productions. I'm borrowing them for a while; no infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

Thanks to my betas, Carol, and TAE for keeping me on track with characters and the story.

Wednesday

Ann had finished with her shower, dried her hair enough so it wasn't going to ruin her suit, and went back into the bedroom to get dressed. She was supposed to have spent the night at his apartment and brought clean clothes in her suit bag. As she put on her clothes, she thought of the day before and wished she could have erased most of it. But it had started on Monday; Tuesday was the result.

Monday (two days earlier)

The team had been working on a case involving two missing girls, ages five and three, allegedly taken by their father during an ugly divorce case. Finally, after a grueling three days of small leads and emotional meetings with other family members, they located the father.

Jack knocked on the door, but heard no response. On a whim, Jack reached out to the door handle, and discovered it unlocked. He took a quick look at Martin as he drew his gun and stepped into the apartment, just as a gun went off twice. Jack ran towards the sound with Martin in pursuit. He stopped at the bedroom door confronted with the two children on the floor, covered in blood, and the father standing at the foot of the bed, holding a gun to his own head.

"No!" Jack roared, lunging forward towards the man.

The man pulled the trigger and collapsed backwards. Blood and grey matter seemed to fly in every direction. Martin turned, ran out of the room and immediately threw up into the kitchen sink. Jack stepped away from the body, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped his face. He felt his legs give out and he fell back against the bureau. And, as he fell, he saw the youngest child seemingly looking at him, blaming him. He couldn't stop staring at her, even when the tears blurred his vision.

The police called that the apartment was clear, and that both the coroner and an FBI supervisor were needed. Vivian, Sam, and Elena had been downstairs, covering the front door, and after hearing the report, all three raced up the stairs. They were directed to their fellow agents by the NYPD and went to their aid. Sam and Elena helped Martin clean up and then helped him down to the car.

"Jack?" Vivian asked, as she crouched next to him in the bedroom, seeing the blood on his suit.

Danny ran up the stairs, having come down from the office by taxi, and entered the apartment. He saw Vivian in the doorway of the bedroom, and walked quickly up to her. She looked at Danny and shook her head.

"Jack, come on, we need to let the coroner in." Danny said, stepping in between Jack and the bodies.

Jack looked down at his hands, noting the bloody handkerchief. He nodded silently and accepted their help to get just to get to his feet. He put his gun back into its holster and walked unsteadily to the hallway. He stopped and leaned against the wall for a moment before leaning over, his hands on his knees. Danny thought he was going to be sick, but Vivian knew better what was going on.

"Danny, can you give us a minute?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, and walked down the hallway to the stairs.

Vivian stood next to Jack and gently put her hand on his neck, kneading it. He reached up and loosened his tie, still leaning over. She knew that every case took a little more out of him, but this one, with the girls so reminiscent of Hanna and Kate, hit too close to home.

Ann Cassidy, who Jack had been dating for a month, had been out of town since Saturday. She called Jack five times a day on his cell, but, after the first call, he didn't answer her. Finally, out of desperation, she called Vivian, who explained the case to her.

He hadn't gone home, Vivian was certain of that. She left every night and he was still there at his desk; poring over the files. Fresh shirt and a shave were the only changes every morning. The strains from the case; the memories, the guilt, and the frustration, were all taking a serious toll.

Vivian and Jack stood quietly, hip to hip, her hand, gently kneading his neck, as he tried to pull himself together. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small chocolate bar, handing it to him. He drew himself up to his full height and took the candy bar.

"Thanks," he murmured, not trusting himself to look at her yet.

She was the only one who could read him. Well, Vivian and Tyler Simpson; his best friend from Quantico. He unwrapped the chocolate and slowly started to eat. A full five minutes later, his colour was better and he seemed ready to go. He turned to Vivian, about to pull her into a hug, when he realized that he was still covered in the victim's blood.

"Thanks, again."

"I'm always here for you, Jack," she answered simply.

"Special Agent Malone? We need to examine you." A CSI said, coming up to them in the hallway.

Jack started by giving a DNA sample and his blood spattered handkerchief to the technician. Although his prints were on file, the technician insisted on taking a fresh batch. Jack was photographed and his clothing was swabbed for evidence; all in all in took more than thirty minutes. He and Vivian walked to the stairs. Danny smiled and started down ahead of them. Three slow flights later, they were on the street, put on their sunglasses and headed for the car.

"You drive," Jack said, tossing the keys to Danny before easing himself into the back seat.

Vivian rode shotgun in the silent car for the half hour trip back from Brooklyn to the office. They pulled into the garage, parking in Jack's spot. Danny and Vivian got out of the car but Jack remained in the back seat, his head resting on the cushion.

"Jack, we're at the office." Vivian said, loudly, as she opened the door.

He opened his eyes behind his dark glasses, waking from his brief nap in the back seat. He put his hand up on the roof of the car, pivoted his hips and pulled himself up, favoring his right leg slightly. Jack walked to the elevator, hearing the car door shut behind him and the electronic locks being set. He hit the button and waited for the door to open as Danny and Vivian stood behind him. The doors opened and the three of them walked in. When Jack turned to face Danny, the latter gave him his car keys. The elevator stopped and they got out of the car. Jack headed to his office, shutting the blinds and turning out all but one light. Danny and Vivian went to the bullpen to see how Martin was faring.

"Well, you certainly look better," Vivian remarked, sitting on the edge of her desk.

"Thanks," Martin said, his pale face looking up at her.

"I'll need you to finish the report. I'll show it to Jack and we'll give it to Van Doren." Vivian instructed.

"Yeah, of course," Martin said, turning to his computer.

"How is he?" Sam asked, walking up to her.

"He's very fragile, Sam. He's tired and needs some time off." Vivian remarked.

Sam nodded biting her lip, and went back to her cubicle. Danny walked up to the wipe board and cleaned it as Elena walked up with her file.

"Does anyone else have their notes ready to go? I'll walk them down," she offered.

"Uhm, I do," Sam said, standing with a manila folder in her hand.

"Great," Elena replied, smiling.