Chapter 3
Jack slowed to a walk when he saw her and squinted as the steam cleared briefly between them. She stood perfectly still on the very last step of the passenger car she'd occupied, her breath barely escaping from her bright red lips. The truth was Samantha couldn't have moved, even if she wanted to; she was rooted to that step because if she'd tried to move forward, she would have collapsed into nothingness.
Her body flooded with relief when he took the first step. "You left your bag."
"Yeah..." Samantha swallowed although her throat was dry and constricted. "My badge..."
"I got that, too," he said, moving closer and holding the leather purse out to her. She reached out and took it from him before clutching tightly against her chest. "Is Martin..." He indicated to the passenger car.
"Yeah..." It was all she could manage to say, and she felt ridiculous, but Samantha stood spellbound from the exhaustion, the billowing steam, and the dark, brooding eyes she'd fallen into. "Jack, I know it's---"
His body jerked and he seemed to wake up as her voice grabbed something in his chest; he took a step forward. But the steam billowed up and separated them with a wall of infinite white smoke. He heard the 'last call' whistle sound behind him and waved the smoke away desperately. "Wait! Samantha? Are you there? Can you--"
Jack coughed, and froze as he heard the grinding pulses of the engines igniting and the metallic exterior of the train began to move away from him. His heart was pounding hard and fast against him causing his vision to blur slightly. He reached out into the pure white mass of steam and felt only air. The train was moving faster into the dark oblivion, and her voice faded into the groaning of the machine's underbelly.
Before he realized, the train was gone. He could see the lights disappearing through the copious smoke. Jack inhaled, his breath catching haggardly, and turned back to the terminal as the steam cleared into the frosty night air. Her unfinished sentance still rang in his ears.
Shaking, trembling, questioning--clear, but laden with weariness and surrender:
"Jack."
The memory of her voice rang through his mind as he walked the length of the platform.
But it came again, unbidden. "Jack!"
He froze. And turned. And she was there.
A breeze from behind her blew her hair across her face and she smiled sadly.
He stared across the distance between there, his head cocked to the side, breathing irregularly. This time she took up the burden and walked forward slowly, her hands hanging limply at her side. Now that the choice had been made, she seemed to give in to the consequences and it unexplainably gave her a phantom rush of strength to keep moving.
Samantha was right in front of him now, and the familiar mix of doubt, hate, longing, love, and uncertainty rushed to the surface, but she simply let them flow out of her as she looked up into his face.
"I shouldn't have gotten off that train," she sighed heavily. He hook his head and almost took a step forward, but simply lifted out his hand and held onto her sleeve.
"I know."
"You should have waited until Monday," Samantha added with a half-smile and Jack looked up from the hem of her sleeve and returned the smile as best he could.
"Probably," he murmured. "You're right, I probab---" She cut him off abruptly when her face collided with his, mouth hungrily seeking his, dropping her bag so she could coil her hands through his hair and around his neck. He grew dizzy as his breath was lost somewhere in that kiss, and he grabbed her around the lower curve of her back and lifted her slightly off of the ground.
Samantha was panting slightly when she finally broke away before she completely blacked out from lack of oxygen. He watched her face completely aglow with the renewed flush in her cheeks and revived clarity in her eyes. "If you weren't so damn romantic, I'd be practically in New York by now."
"Well, nobody asked you to leap off that train just because I found your purse for you." He pulled a strand of hair from her eyes, not letting her body go any further from his and enjoying the warmth that resulted.
"Excuse me, I did not 'jump' off of anything, I made a choice and calmly went through with it, and what the hell was I supposed to do, anyway? Running through billowing white steam, hair flying, with that little crease you get in your forehead when you're anxious..." She was interrupted when he squeezed her tighter against him.
"I love you, Sam," he said in a breathy slur, and she felt her entire body relax into his arms. There. There it was: perfect and completely his. It was like breathing in the steam from strong, dark coffee and the beginning of fall and the feel of cool sheets against bare skin and coming home to someone you'd been missing the entire day at work. It was all there, in his voice, in those words. Perfect.
"How long do we have?" she whispered softly, fingers resting against his shoulders. Jack shook his head without leaving her eyes.
"I gave them the weekend off," he answered, and she yawned, shifting to his side so they could move. "So, a day, I guess. Tomorrow."
"A lot can happen in a day," Sam said absently as they began to move towards the steps leading out of the terminal. Jack slid his arm around her waist and felt her head fall lightly against his shoulder. "Especially if it's a 'tomorrow'."
Fin.
A/N: I'm really happy with the way this one turned out. It's for sure inspired me to keep on this similar style of writing. Thanks for all of the valuable input! -LV