Authors Note: DianeM is an awesome beta, any mistakes are my own. Thanks for the reviews, in particular JackofSpade who has gone back and reviewed every chapter. I don't do this for the reviews but they do make me smile. As per the schedule I will be updating on the 25th if I remember, I want to get this completely posted before the New Year. Merry Christmas and enjoy.

FBI Headquarters

That evening

"Hey." Jack felt a set of arms wrap around him from behind. He was in the bullpen, taking the picture of Rodger Black from the board, clearing the area, ready for a new day and another missing person.

"I'm almost done," Jack told her as he packed up the case file box. Alex took the board wiper and cleared the timeline from it. With both of them the area was clear within minutes. "Thanks,"

"You're welcome." Alex held a fist of Jack's jacket and used it to pull him close for a kiss. She smiled and started to walk towards the exit. Jack didn't move, his mind working overtime. Alex glanced back towards him and said, "Come on, Jack," only it wasn't Alex, it was Sam. She kept on walking towards the exit and when she turned back again she was again Alex. Shaking himself, Jack walked towards her; he didn't like it but there was something he had to do.

On the other side of the bullpen Samantha stood watching him; she'd seen the whole exchange. They used to do that, clean up and go back to her apartment. Unbidden, a single tear trickled down her cheek, furiously she wiped it away. What she'd had with Jack had been over years ago; she'd done enough crying over him. He'd moved on from her, and it seemed that they were never in the right place for each other. He was married, she was free, she was free he was seeing someone. Perhaps the only attraction was that she was the other woman? Maybe it had just been the thrill for him; perhaps that was why he'd not attempted anything with her now. She had thought that he needed time to mourn his marriage, but he seemed to have moved on with Alex easily enough – Alex, not her.

Martin's apartment

That same night

A half empty bottle of scotch sat on the table. Martin stared morosely at the photo he held in his hands. It was of the team last Christmas. Smiling broadly, Danny had one arm slung over his shoulders and his other arm around Viv . He never saw Danny smile these days. He was standing next to Samantha. There was no motion in photographs --they were after all a moment captured in time -- but he knew that if he looked close enough, his eyes weren't looking at the camera, they were looking at her. Even back then, before they'd had their one night, he was besotted with her.

Martin sighed heavily. It was time to face facts: his life in New York was over. He remembered the first girl he told that he loved her. She'd slapped him; they'd only been out once and she'd thought he was getting fresh. There'd been another couple of similar incidents over the years, enough that his father had started to get concerned about bad press, Martin thought bitterly. He'd all but ordered him to see a psychiatrist. The shrink had made him talk for several sessions; he didn't ask many questions just got Martin to spill all the details of his life. He then told him what was wrong with him.

'I've seen it before. A physically absent father and an emotionally absent mother, left to grow up alone, shipped away to relatives during vacations because of the inconvenience of raising a child. You crave intimacy, you need far more out of every relationship and you need it instantly. Your feelings are being magnified, you don't really love these women, no one falls in love that quickly. You love what they represent. Be careful, Martin.'

Ever since then as well as he could, he'd moved about the country. Leaving every city with a broken heart, knowing it would be healed and broken again at his next destination. Every time he thought it would be different, and so far it had always been the same. Decision made.

FBI Headquarters

The next day

"What's this?" Danny demanded, throwing a sheet of paper on Martin's desk. Martin looked up at his angry friend, perversely grateful that for once Danny wasn't looking at him with regret and treating him like he was going to break.

"It's a transfer request form," Martin said softly. Danny swallowed hard and ran an agitated hand through his hair.

"Is it because of me?" Danny asked, his voice so quiet Martin almost didn't hear him.

"No, Danny, we just all need new starts sometimes." Danny didn't look reassured, "Look, Danny, you have to stop blaming yourself, you did the best you could. If our situations were reversed, would you blame me?"

"Of course not," Danny replied automatically

"Then why are you blaming you?" Martin paused for a moment, watching Danny digest this thought. He knew it would take more than this to persuade his friend, but hopefully Viv would be up to the task. "You've been a great friend, Danny, stay in touch, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course," Danny agreed distractedly, looking pensive rather than angsty in his distraction for the first time in months.

FBI Headquarters

The same time

Jack stared at the envelope on his desk. He knew what it was. It was the final papers for his divorce. He'd signed last week and this would be his legal copy, officially certifying that it was all over. He looked at the picture of Kate and Hanna that he kept on his desk. That was his only regret, that he hadn't found someway of being there for his daughters. Perhaps he should have moved to Chicago, that way he would have at least been in the same city. Chicago wasn't his home, New York was. His life was here, Chicago was all Maria. He looked over at Viv out in the bullpen, working hard on the paperwork closing the Larson and Black cases had generated. She was a good friend. Next to her was Sam. Jack frowned, she didn't look well, like she'd hardly slept. Well, he needed a word anyway tonight, and as much as it hurt (which perhaps should have been a clue), he would ask after her and Martin. He'd seen the transfer request form before Danny had liberated it and that was probably why she was so upset. Why Martin was transferring he couldn't fathom, although looking at his record it seemed to be a pattern. Jack shrugged before he decided that he'd procrastinated long enough and started his own report.