Author's Note: Well, finally, I've got some time to write. I've been out of state/country on business lately and work's been a killer. So if you think this chapter's a little off, I apologize. Anyway, I'm happy with bits and pieces of it, so enjoy. I appreciate all the feedback I've gotten. Thanks.

Chapter 4

2:34.

Jack was waiting for her when she returned to the office, sipping what had to be his fourth cup of coffee that day with his coat draped over his arm. When he saw her, he downed the rest of the contents and threw the cup into the trash.

"Hey," he called, his voice a little more hoarse than usual. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, my bags are downstairs in the lobby."

"Okay, good. Then I guess we're off." He locked the door to his office and swiveled around to face

Vivian's cubicle. "We'll be back Monday, alright Viv?"

She smiled and waved as Jack turned and headed toward the elevator. Sam held her gaze ab it longer, her eyes solemn and fearful at the same time. Vivian's mouth parted as if she were about to say something, but instead she closed her lips and smiled gently.

"Have a nice trip." Sam nodded and turned off her computer on her desk. Jack held the elevator door tolerantly and waited for her. Vivian watched her leave and was tempted to wonder about the circumstances which were before them all, but instead focused on the two sisters and finding them alive and well.

They said nothing in the elevator as it descended six floors before walking silently to Jack's car, a black Nissan. He unlocked the trunk of the car and they piled their things on top of one another. She grabbed a small duffel bag from her things and unconsciously picked up Jack's briefcase which never left his side. He took it from her without question and they slid onto their leather seats.

It had been a longtime since she'd been in this car. In fact, the very last time she could remember was when he broke off the affair a month or so ago. She felt the side of the seat where there was a familiar leather strap which she had gripped and squeezed for support as he delivered the most convincing "I'm-sorry-but-it's-not-going-to-work-out" speech she'd ever heard. The seams were still frayed from when she'd pulled to hard at the very end.

"Are you ready?" She nodded, and he handed her his copy of the case file to hold. "Let's go."

He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, aware of the frown which crossed Sam's face. "We're going to fly down to Virginia, instead of drive. I figured it would just be easier and wouldn't waste so much time."

"I don't have a ticket…" He pulled a white and blue envelope from behind his overhead visor and handed it to her. In cursive letters were the words LaGuardia Airport and Air Tran. "Um, thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I'll pay you when we get back."

"Don't worry about it," he said, shifting to the right-hand side of the road. Sam looked up at him. "I charged it to the FBI financial expense account."

"Oh."

They arrived after fifteen minutes of acomfortable silence, which surprised Samantha. If they could survive the whole trip in the comfort of that silence, she'd be the luckiest woman alive. Jack helped her with her bags and they checked their luggage at the front desks. They flashed their badges humbly to the airline employees and toted their carry-on bags under their arms. A security guard patted them down away from the crowds in order to keep their guns under wraps. He directed them to their correct gate where they walked without rushing. Forty-five minutes early, they sat in the café located fifty-feet away from the boarding gate and quietly drank iced tea and coffee.

The silence Samantha had embraced ended. "Sam, I get that you want some space, but I'm not going to ignore that there's something going on with you." She chugged her iced tea, eyes focused on the lemon submerged at the bottom of the glass. "You're not yourself."

Yeah, and what makes you think you know about 'myself'? She wanted to snap sarcastically, but realized the stupidity of her remark. For six months, they (thought) they knew everything there was to know about one another. All of a sudden, were they supposed to become strangers?

"I'm…" she began, but trailed off. Not now. I can't do this now. "I'll be okay. I haven't been feeling the best lately." Jack watched her for a while longer before nodding. "How did Hanna's ballet recital go?"

Jack smiled into his coffee and took a quick swig. "Her partner came in too early and they had to run offstage and start their routine over again," he said with a doleful grin. The fatherly pride betrayed himself on his tired face. He was always tired, and the six or seven cups of coffee a day had little effect on him. Except for when those two were around him. It was like he had been sleeping and suddenly they woke him up into a new man. "But they finished to a standing ovation of parents and grandparents."

"I'm sure she looked beautiful."

"She did." Sam looked outside the café window at the plances taking off and landing, sliding her hand uneasily to her abdomen. It had become a habit of hers, to hold her stomach like that, ever since she found out two weeks earlier. She watched Jack's face just then and suddenly wanted his pride for herself, wanted the doting father and all the rest of the complete American dream he almost had.

"You ever been to Winchester?" He asked her absently, leaning back in his chair and checking his watch to be safe. She shook her head and he nodded. "You'll like it. Trees everywhere, stone fences, two…three hundred year old farms…"

"So what's the name of the rehab center we're looking for?" Sam interrupted, clearing her throat. Jack closed his eyes briefly and sighed. He opened his briefcase and took out the case file, checking the references.

"St. Joseph's House of Rest." Sam raised her eyebrows and nodded, writing something down in her small leatherbound notebook.

"Big Catholic family, I take it," she murmured. "Does she have any family remaining in Virginia?" Jack scrunched his eyebrows in concentration and looked down the case file for more information before shutting it firmly.

"This is not what I want to be thinking about now," he told her simply. Sam had no choice but to accept, and put her notebook into her bag. A subtle rumbling outside the airport startled her. It was no airplane engine. "Thunder."

"Yeah, I heard it, too." She shuddered and took a deep swallow of iced tea. "Are we going to still fly through it? I mean, is it safe?" Jack opened his eyes and glanced at her mildly surprised.

"We'll be fine, Sam," he assured her, placing his hand on the surface of their table. "Don't worry." It's presence there caused her stomach to twist. Whether it was from the underlying reminder of what they had or the growing life she had yet to accept in her stomach, she wasn't sure.

The loudspeaker echoed throughout the airport and informed them that their flight was boarding seats A20 through A12. Sam checked her ticket. A19. Jack stood up, too, and they both paid for their drinks separately. He took up his briefcase and she grabbed her duffel and they hurried over to the line growing beside the young man accepting boarding passes.

Jack led her through the connecting tunnel leading to the plane and shifted his briefcase to his left hand so that he could kiss his right fingers. Before stepping inside the body of the plane, he placed the kissed fingers on the creamy white outside metal and then passed through the gate. Sam almost smiled and tentatively did the same, placing her fingers in a distinctly different place than his.

He was already shrugging off his coat and folding it into the overhead compartment when she made her way down the aisle to their seats, right by the wings. He held his hand out for hers without facing her and she quickly struggled out of her coat and handed it to him. Jack slammed the compartment shut and waited for her to step inside to the window seat. Sam was taken for surprise, considering Jack hated the aisle seat, and slid into her place. He settled into his seat and they both buckled their seat belts.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," the PA crackled above them as a fresh stream of cold oxygen billowed above their heads. "This is your captain speaking. We'd like to take this chance to thank you for flying Air Tran and ask that at this time you would secure your seat belts so that we can prepare for takeoff. Flight attendants, please take your places at the rear and middle of the plane." The flight attendants, who had been demonstrating the uniform safety procedures, hurried to their places out of sight of the passengers. Sam glanced outside of the window at the steadily graying sky, and drummed her fingers nervously on her upper lip.

"We will be experiencing a bit of turbulence today as we fly over Massachusets and Maryland because of a slight electrical storm coming north from Virginia," the PA added nonchalantly, but Sam blinked her eyes shut rapidly. She hated flying through storms. "So please keep your seat belts fastened until the 'fasten seat belt' sign above you has darkened. Thank you, and enjoy your flight."

Unbeknownst, she hoped, to Jack, a flurry of unexpected thoughts ran through her mind. What if a lightning bolt struck the wing? She was sure she'd heard somewhere that the wing was usually struck first, and they were sitting right by the wings. Would the turbulence cause the engine to fail? Where were the emergency exits? Was it the bottom of the seat which became a floatation device, or the back? Suddenly, a new concern struck her. What about the baby? Her unoccupied other hand held her stomach possessively.

"Hey," Jack interrupted her thoughts and she turned to him anxiously. "It's alright. We're going to be fine. Don't think about it; there's nothing to worry about." She nodded into his eyes and sighed as the plane slowly detached from the airport and made its path to the waiting runway.

Sam suddenly thought of Martin, and smiled. He'd made her breakfast this morning before work. To her surprise, he was a very adept cook, and made her eggs benedict (though they were far from being her favorite) with a fruit salad and bacon. He'd woken her up with a cup of coffee with way too much cream and sugar, but insisted she'd stay in bed while he served her on a wooden tray. Martin was good to her. Her mother told her so many times that she needed someone who was good to her, and Martin was that person. Especially after the psychological trauma the affair had wrought.

The plane lurched forward, gaining speed, and all thoughts of Martin vanished. She clenched her handrest in a death grip and swallowed. Flying never had affected her like this before. She wondered if it was the—her mouth went dry—pregnancy. As if on cue, Jack opened up his fingers beside hers in a silent offer, and not caring what signals she might send, she grabbed it tightly and squeezed. She kept squeezing until they were safely off of the ground, and kept right on squeezing until they passed the first bout of turbulence from the low-lying stratus clouds. She dared a look outside into the sea of gray and white and exhaled slowly. Then, she let go of Jack's hand.

"Thanks," she whispered quietly. He nodded, but didn't face her. He didn't trust the storm which brewed in his own eyes. They settled into a silence which was by no means as comfortable as the one she had salvaged en route to the airport. Yes, Sam was almost positive that that security had vanished as soon as the wheels had left New York ground.