P A S S A G E
Sequel to Privilege
(temporary title)

A/N: So, it's been a while, but here's Chapter Two. I'm still gathering my thoughts, drawing story webs, scrawling sudden inspirations in the corners of my school notebooks - that sort of thing. But I think it's all coming together rather nicely.

This chapter was interesting to write. Not difficult, exactly, just interesting. Considered a bunch of different PoVs, different ways of presenting what I wanted to happen, and finally went with this. Turned out okay, I think, though not quite the way I had planned.

But whatever. I'll just shut up now and let you read.

C h a p t e r T w o
Hirsch, Richard

. - . - . - .

Martin sighed as he studied the picture up on the whiteboard. Gregory Henley, sixty-eight, Alzheimer's. Wife deceased, one daughter grown up and too busy to give him anything besides a place to live, one son in the military. Wandered away from church yesterday morning, never seen since.

These were never good cases.

"New lead."

Martin turned to see Danny standing behind him.

"Man down in a grocery store says he saw our missing person. Viv's heading over there now to get security camera footage."

Martin nodded. "It's a good start."

"Yeah. These cases aren't hopeless, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Is Sam in yet?"

"Hey, you would know better than I would."

"Very funny."

"Wasn't meant to be." Danny grinned at him and turned away, back to his desk.

Martin, too, returned to his desk, and after staring idly at the screen for a moment, clicked on a file in the corner of it. A window popped up. HIRSCH, RICHARD, the heading announced in bold black print. Martin scrolled down, skimming the page, his mouth set in a grim line.

Second-Degree Aggravated Harassment…
First-Degree Stalking…
Attempted Rape…

The list went on.

Martin wondered how the hell Hirsch, Richard had gotten off with a thirty year sentence. If it had been up to him, Martin would have killed the man. He'd never been big on the death penalty, but these days, he just didn't know anymore. Sometimes he watched her, he saw how tired she was, and he knew she wasn't sleeping well. And Sam had always been a hard worker, but it seemed that she no longer wanted to leave work at all. He suspected she had spent more than one night curled up at her desk, squinting at her computer screen and trying desperately to save whomever it was that needed saving at the time.

Some days Martin wanted nothing more than to beat up Hirsch, Richard for what he'd done, and tried to do, to Samantha Spade. Mostly, though, he wanted nothing more than to beat up himself, for what he hadn't done.

Just then, the office door swung open and Sam strode in. Martin quickly closed the window and looked up.

Their eyes met, locked; parted.

Sam walked to the whiteboard to survey the photograph and the words scrawled around it in black marker. Gregory Henley, sixty-eight… Martin watched her mouth form the words. He smiled sadly, and mentally whispered, you can't save them all…

. - . - . - .

Jack sat in his office, bent over the paperwork in front of him. Every now and then he'd glance up at the photo of Gregory Henley tacked up on the board; the more he learned, the more he couldn't help thinking that his dad would have liked the guy. Or at least, his dad would have wanted to look out for the guy. Gregory Henley seemed a sad, accepting sort of man, one you would naturally want to take care of.

Pity the Henley children hadn't felt the same.

Just then the phone rang, interrupting his musings. Without looking up, he reached over the papers and files stacked on his desk to pick up the receiver. "Malone." He transferred the phone to his left ear and continued writing.

Suddenly he stopped, halfway through a sentence. "What?" His voice was uncharacteristically sharp. "How did this happen?"

Pause. Jack slowly put his pen down and rubbed his forehead.

"Uh-huh. How long ago?"

Pause.

"Thanks."

Slowly, deliberately, Jack replaced the receiver. He stared unseeingly at his paperwork for a moment before moving his gaze to the bullpen. His eyes sought and found Samantha, and he sat for a moment longer.

Then he stood up, and in the determined manner with which he always met tough situations, he pushed open his door and walked to Samantha's desk.

She looked up with a small smile. "Hey, Jack. What's up?"

He said, "I just got a phone call."

She waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she sighed and dropped her gaze to the desk. "What is it?"

"Samantha... Richard Hirsch walked out of the prison library nine forty-seven Friday morning with a gun to the librarian's head. He demanded a car, drove away, ditched it in an alley eight miles down the road. They're still searching for him." He hesitated, watching her. "I'm… sorry."

Sam went perfectly still. She took a deep, silent breath. She nodded once, slowly, bowing her head in acceptance. Then she swallowed and looked back up at Jack, attempting a smile. "Thanks for telling me."

He was still watching her. "Are you gonna be okay, or should I get someone to take you home?"

"No, I'm fine. But thanks."

"Sam -"

"I'm fine, Jack."

They stared at each other for a moment, then Jack broke away. "Okay." He turned and left.

. - . - . - .

Sam waited until Jack had reentered his office and sat down at his desk before she got up and walked as normally as possible out of the bullpen and into the hallway. Shooting one last glance behind her to make sure Jack had not noticed, or at least was pretending not to notice, she headed for the nearest bathroom.

She had to keep her "normal" in place for another minute, while she waited for one of the secretaries to wash her hands and leave. The woman, whom she knew only by sight, smiled at her on the way out, and Sam felt obliged to return the expression. Only when she was finally alone did she allow herself to sag against the wall, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror and waiting for her heart to slow down.

. - . - . - .

A/N: Thanks goes out to Close to Home, another awesome show, which inspired the whole librarian-as-hostage jailbreak thing. Someday I really should write a C2H fanfic. But it will be a while.

Review, please, so I know people are actually bothering to read this.

:-) (-: