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chapter nineteen

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would it be enough to go by
if we could sail on the wind and the dark
cut those chains in the middle of the night
that had you pulled apart
-Vienna Teng, "Enough to Go By"

xx

5:00 pm

Sam sat rooted to her seat on the conference room sofa, staring blankly at the floor in front of her. She hadn't moved in over an hour and was so intent on her thoughts that she did not notice Jack enter the room and approach her until his feet came into view by the table in front of her.

She looked up at him grimly, figuring that he needed to know and hoping that he would somehow have a solution to her internal dilemma -- since he was, in fact, half of the problem in the first place.

"He asked me about us," she said softly. "He had all this stuff. Uh, security card access records of nights that we left together, phone logs..."

Jack sat beside her, sighing. "And what did you say?"

"I told him that it wasn't true."

His head turned to stare at her uncomfortably. "You have no idea what he knows or doesn't know. That's his ace up the sleeve -- that's how he wins."

She hated how he would lecture her sometimes, especially regarding their relationship. It wasn't as though he held the moral high card. "I was just trying to protect both of us," she said honestly.

"Yeah, but you didn't have to lie. Even if he had hard evidence, there's nothing he could do about it."

"We broke at least half a dozen conduct codes!" She exclaimed incredulously. Jack knew as much as anyone that it was against the rules. "Excuse me for wanting to protect our jobs and our reputations!"

"Lying to an OPR investigator could get you fired," he said, leaning forward to touch her shoulder.

She shied away from his touch, replying with a biting tone. "And sleeping with an agent under your command could get you fired." She relaxed slightly when he withdrew his touch. "I'm sorry I lied; I was just trying to save your ass."

She rose from the sofa and left him in her wake as she stepped quickly from the broken solace of the conference room and into the hallway. It was after 5:00 pm now, and since they didn't have any active cases other than Carrie Wilkins -- whose dental records were still being processed -- Sam decided it was safe to head home for the evening. It was a take out dinner and bad TV movie kind of evening.

As she gathered her belongings from her desk, she considered how Jack's loose interpretation of the rules had been one of the things that had attracted her to him most. But everything to within a certain degree, and Jack was beginning to take this too far.

Sam stepped out into the warm New York evening, fighting the chills that continued to run down her spine.

xx

May 1, 2003
11:45 am

The remainder of the week had not gotten any better as far as Sam was concerned. Agent Farrell was ever-present and continued to harass the team at any chance he got, Judge Adderly threw out Spaulding's confession on the grounds that he had been denied the constitutional right to be questioned with an attorney present, and Jack and Naomi had been at odds all week because of some local PD official who claimed he had relayed Spaulding's request for counsel to 'Agent Russell.' This member of the local PD was shocked to see Agent Russell take the stand -- only to discover that this 'Agent Russell' was female, not male.

And the information from the courtroom proceedings certainly did nothing to hinder the OPR investigation.

Furthermore, Sam had only spoken to Martin once. Their conversation had been brief and rather stilted; they had both been distracted and not forthcoming as to what was going on between them.

She sighed, looking around the empty office. The rest of the team was already in court, while she had been on the phone with Carrie Wilkins' parents who were once again frantic after overhearing another radio report. She, too, was due in court to testify about the photographs that they had found in Spaulding's basement. Photographs which they believe not only linked Spaulding to Andy Deaver, but to several other boys who had gone missing in other states.

She turned with a jolt, hearing the muffled sound of raised voices coming from Jack's office. Her curiosity peaked as she thought she had been alone, she casually stood and walked past the office, stepping towards the ladies room. As she passed, she attempted to catch part of the conversation, but to no avail. The walls blocked out just enough of the sound that she could not decipher anything of use. She was, however, slightly panicked when she caught a glimpse of the scene inside the office through a segment of partially open blinds: Victor Fitzgerald appeared to be exchanging fairly heated words with Agent Farrell.

Though Sam had no idea what this meant, her natural instinct was to expect the worst.

Finding herself alone in the restroom, she studied her appearance in the mirror, touching up her makeup until she was satisfied that the dark circles under her eyes were completely covered. She was wearing one of her favorite suits, and her hair fell down around her shoulders, loosely framing her face. Satisfied that her appearance did not give off any tell-tale signs of her bad week, she exited the restroom and returned to the bullpen, which was once again silent.

However, as she approached her desk, she glanced around only to find that she was not alone. Instead, she found herself face to face with Victor Fitzgerald.

"Agent Spade," he acknowledged, with a nod of his head.

"Deputy Director Fitzgerald," she answered, her voice sounding cool and collected though her breathing was nervous and uneven. "Is something wrong? Can I help you?"

"No, no." He shook his head, but she knew the look on Victor's face. Though Martin looked much more like his mother, he too would crease his eyebrows in a similar fashion when something was weighing on his mind. "Agent Farrell had some important business to tend to back in Washington," Victor continued. "I don't think he will be a problem here anymore."

"Sir?" Sam questioned.

"It came to my attention that things were getting out of hand here, and I could not let office politics break up one of our most productive teams." He said, his voice all authority. He then turned his body to face her head on, lowering his voice considerably. "And it seems that I myself may have been too quick to judge."

Looking at him, she could not quite get a read on his body language -- although he seemed sincere. He smiled at her, and she knew that Martin was somehow behind all of this.

"How is the Spaulding trial going?" He asked, his tone professional once again.

"Not well," she answered honestly. "We're going to have to try to get a conviction from the photos we found in his basement, and then hope that there are enough jurors who take Patrick McCullough's testimony to heart." Her shoulders sagged, knowing that their chances of getting a solid conviction rested on the sometimes shaky justice system. "I actually need to get to court," she said, glancing at her watch before excusing herself.

"Good luck, Agent Spade," Victor said, as she turned to leave.

The elevator was opening on the main floor before her breathing finally evened out. As she stepped out into the early afternoon sunlight, she wondered what all of this meant -- for the team, and for herself and Martin.

xx

1:00 pm

"So that's it, then?" Naomi's green eyes bore into Sam's as the two women sat on a bench just outside the courthouse. Sam had just finished telling Naomi about what had happened at the office.

"I guess so," she said, running a free hand through her hair. "It just goes away."

"What happens now?" Naomi asked, leaning in closer in disbelief.

Sam thought for a few seconds before replying, "I don't know. We just move ahead with the Spaulding trial."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Naomi said with a groan. "Jack is great, but I sure as hell hope that the photos are enough to get a conviction because he pretty much screwed us over with the rest of the case."

"At least Andy Deaver is still alive, though," Sam reminded her, once again internally lamenting the flaws of the justice system.

"I know, I know. It just doesn't seem fair..." Naomi said with a sigh. "Anyway, I should probably get back to the office for the afternoon in case something comes in about Carrie Wilkins. I'll see you later on?"

"Yeah, of course," she replied absent-mindedly, trying to look inconspicuous as she saw Jack on the steps of the courthouse, watching them.

He was obviously waiting to talk with her alone. As soon as Naomi disappeared down the stairwell that led to the subway station, he began to walk over to the direction of the bench where she sat.

"How are you doing?" He asked, sitting down beside her.

"I'm fine," she shrugged her shoulders. "What's up?"

Jack breathed in, turning to look down at her. "I just got a call from Van Doren, who said that OPR has just packed up and moved back to Washington."

"I know," she nodded.

"You know?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, I know. Victor Fitzgerald came by the office earlier. He told me that Farrell had business in Washington and would not be coming back." She leaned back against the wooden bench, bringing a hand up to massage her temple.

"Victor Fitzgerald is behind this," he nodded tersely.

Sam shook her head and folded her hands in her lap. "Jack, I don't think this is primarily Victor Fitzgerald's doing." Jack gave her a confused look as she trailed off, and she bit her tongue, not wanting to relay her suspicions that Martin was the man behind OPR's sudden disappearance. "You were right, you know," she changed the subject, instead.

"About what?"

"It was dumb to lie to Farrell," she replied.

"Not as dumb as what's been going on in there," he motioned towards the courthouse. "I think I'll have let a killer walk free and lost my job when all of this is over."

"You know, when Farrell asked me about us, my first instinct was to tell him the truth. Because it was really hard for me, at first ... not telling anyone. Being around you all the time, and having to pretend like nothing ever happened," she admitted quietly.

"I know," he began softly, but she held up her hand to stop him from saying anything further.

"I don't think I was lying to save you, Jack," she continued. "I think, in that moment, I realized that if everybody knew, if they knew for sure, then I become 'that girl'. And I don't want to be 'that girl' anymore, Jack. It's over, and I want to leave it that way."

She exhaled, signaling that she had finished, and she sat back again. Jack remained silent for nearly a minute, but just as he began to speak, the shrill ring of her cell phone interrupted them. Grateful for the distraction, Sam flipped the phone open and uttered her usual greeting without looking at the caller ID. "Spade -"

"Hey, it's me," Martin answered, sounding much calmer and less stressed than he had earlier in the week. "Is this a bad time?"

"I, uh, no," she replied.

"Are you sure?" He asked apologetically.

She briefly considered getting up from the bench, but then decided against it. She had just told Jack it was over; it did not matter what he thought anymore. "No, no. It's fine. I just have to be back in court in a couple of minutes," she replied confidently, checking her watch.

"Yeah, I figured," he said. "We just keep missing each other, and I thought I would try to catch you while we take a break."

"I'm glad you called," she smiled into the mouthpiece of her phone, feeling herself relax.

"You're not on call this weekend, are you?"

"Uh, no." She turned slightly, angling herself away from Jack's inquisitive stare. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I was just thinking about coming up for the day on Saturday, since the whole phone tag thing hasn't been working out for us."

"No, it hasn't," she said honestly. "That sounds good to me."

"I, uh, don't want to keep you," he said nervously. "I'll talk to you later?"

She agreed, and they exchanged rushed goodbyes. She flipped her phone shut again, rising silently from where she sat. She wondered what, exactly, had prompted Martin's sudden change of plans, when they had agreed the next time they would see each other was only two week's away as he would be in New York for Bridget's birthday.

Both hands fell to her sides, and Sam strode purposefully back towards the courthouse, leaving a very confused Jack in her wake.

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