Now, here is the next part with thanks to all of you who have reviewed. You know how much it means to me to get the feedback and to know that you're enjoying what I'm writing.

Jbird is thankfully still not tired of being my beta! It's great to have her do this!

Tomorrow

-Chapter 3-

Moments of Transition, Part 1

January/Now

"It's not going to be the same without you," Danny says, "Are you really sure about this?"

They are standing in front of a street map of Manhattan, trying to figure out the pattern of sightings that has been reported.

Sam looks at his concerned face. In his own quiet way he has been the best of friends. She does not want to leave him. She does not want to leave any of them. But she has to get New York and all that happened here, the joy and the sorrow out of her system. Sometimes the best way to forget is to go away.

"Does Martin know?" he asks.

He was the first one to notice that Martin had a crush on her. Sam is not sure if he knows what happened between her and Jack. He never said anything. But on this day he seems to read her mind.

"It's obvious that you've told Jack," he says.

Sam feels the tears pressing again. It's a stupid thing because both Jack and Martin have moved on and everything is all right, really.

"Sam?" Danny asks again, worried now.

She puts a hand on his shoulder.

"I've been stupid, Danny," she says, "I should have gone with you."

Grinning he touches her hand.

"It's not too late, kiddo," he says.

"Yeah, right."

They smile at each other, both knowing that their friendship doesn't extend that far.

"So, does Martin know?" he asks again.

"Yes. I told him this morning when he came in."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing really. Good luck. Don't forget you have a godson in New York. What was he supposed to say?"

"Something like…'it won't be the same without you'?"

Sam looks at him fondly. She hopes he will let it go, but no such luck. Now his eyes become serious again and he says:

"Is Jack still mad?"

"He's not mad," she says, trying to be evasive, "Why should he be mad?"

"Come on. I can see a cloud of thunder hanging over his head. And it's not just because of the case."

"Don't joke, Danny," she says "It's not funny. Let it go, okay? It's not important. Show me where the last sighting was."

Danny goes back to concentrating on the case. But a part of his mind does not let go. When Jack and Jessica got together a year ago he had been relieved. In the years after the divorce from Maria, Jack had become hard, inaccessible and short of temper. Jessica had cracked that shell open again, at least to a certain degree. Today is the first time that Danny starts to doubt if all really is well. It is the first time he considers that things between Sam and Jack might have been more serious than he thought.

April 2001

An air of neglect surrounded the abandoned storage building. Trash littered the yard where the trucks unloaded. The FBI agents, wearing the blue nylon jackets with the bold yellow letters stamped on the back, were carefully filing along one wall, their guns drawn. They approached a narrow side entrance and Jack raised the hand with the microphone to give the other team instructions. Then he looked at the agents behind him and gave them a nod with his head. Sam nodded back. She was, as always, calm and unafraid. Fragile on the outside, steel lining on the inside. It made her one of the best agents he had ever worked with.

He opened the door which gave way, moaning in its hinges. They went inside, their steps making almost no sound on the concrete floor. Methodically they began to search through the building.

After a while a voice spoke up in the receiver in Jack's ear. He recognized Vivian.

"We found her. She's in the office on the ground floor. Shaken, but all right. She said our suspect left her alone not long ago. He might still be in the building, so be careful. I'm taking her outside now."

They continued their search, going through the floors in the office tract of the building, finding no one. Eventually they gathered in the vast storage space.

Jack was sweating. He was getting a new treatment for his knee. It hadn't bothered him much lately and the cases they'd had in the past months hadn't been physically demanding. Only now he felt how profoundly out of shape he really was and it depressed him. The doctor had recommended physical therapy and suggested a less demanding job.

Jack wiped the sweat off his face and removed his jacket, scowling at the memory. He started to pull at the straps of the bulletproof vest.

"Well," he heard Sam say beside him, "at least we found her. We should check out…"

"Would you help me with this," he interrupted her, suddenly desperate to get rid of the hot weight.

"…his friend's house," she continued, raising one of her eyebrows at his misery. She made no move to help him. "You know, Jack, I really don't think you should…"

"That's our guy, watch it!" someone called out.

Before anyone could react the sound of a gunshot ripped through the air. Samantha felt a draft brush past her face and saw Jack being driven back by the impact.

More gunfire erupted and then a body detached itself from an iron beam high up under the roof, tumbling down, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

Sam didn't even cast a glance in that direction. She had dropped to her knees beside Jack, her throat so tight she couldn't call out his name. She bent over him, searching for blood. There was none. She touched his face and he groaned, opening his eyes, gasping for air.

Jack's chest hurt like fire. His head had struck the floor hard. Sam's face swam nearby and he wanted to tell her that he was all right but he couldn't get the words out. He felt her hands on his face, cool and soft. He considered just staying like that for a while, letting her hands comfort him.

"It's okay," he heard her call out, "The bullet hit the vest. He's not shot."

His vision cleared and he tried to sit up. Her arms slid around him and he leaned heavily against her body, his breath going a little easier. Their faces were inches apart. He saw the pallor of shock in her face.

"Sam?" he whispered. He felt her body start to tremble. "Deep breaths!" he gasped, "Take deep breaths. Everything's fine."

He grabbed hold of her arms, his chest still tight. Her slow, breathing started to calm him, too.

Then they were surrounded by other agents. Danny knelt beside him, looking him over.

"What about the shooter?" Jack asked, breath coming easier. "He our guy?"

"Yeah, he is," Vivian answered, "But it looks like the fall killed him. The paramedics are on their way. What about you, Jack?"

He suddenly became aware of how close Sam was and how all he wanted was to lean into her. Let the shock and the pain be taken away by her presence. He had to get a grip, pull himself together before anyone noticed how fragile he was.

"I'm fine," he said

He pushed all helping hands aside, seeing a look of confusion in Sam's eyes.

"I'm fine," he emphasized.

He managed to stand up, swaying on his feet and if Danny hadn't grabbed him he would have gone down again.

"Jesus, Jack," Vivian said, "Why don't you just take your time. He almost killed you."

"I'm fine," he said for the third time, trying to push Danny away again.

"For God's sake, Jack," Danny said. "Just let me help you…"

But Jack was not in the mood for being helped. If he had to deny himself to be helped by her no one else was allowed to do the job either. Childish, of course, but he couldn't care less.

"I think you banged your head pretty hard," Sam said. "You might have a concussion."

He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, angry at himself. How did they miss the suspect when they searched the building? What if someone else had been shot? What if the shooter had aimed a little higher where no bulletproof vest can protect you?

His mind was still chewing on those questions when the paramedics arrived and declared the shooter dead.

000

They all sat around the conference table in the bullpen. Danny was drumming his fingers on the table, Vivien was finishing a report and Sam was pushing the photo of the woman they had saved around the polished surface of the table. Beside her sat the agent who had replaced Steve. Joseph Price was nothing like Steve Reed. Steve had been young, bright, eager to learn and maybe a little too eager to please. Joseph was a gloomy, burned-out man in his late forties pining about that he never made Supervisory Special Agent and probably never would. Sam suspected that Joseph wouldn't be with them for long. He was a candidate for early retirement. She was not sorry about that. Joseph's main occupation in the past months had been to subtly and sometimes not so subtly drag out Jack's shortcomings and mistakes. Since Jack was only human there were always a couple of those floating around.

"So, what do we learn from this?" he asked, gaze fixed across the table on Jack's slumped figure.

Vivian pushed back her chair and got up to wipe the board clean.

"Never feel too safe," she answered, "but I think we all know that by now."

"The instructions we got about clearing the top floor were ambiguous," Joseph continued.

"What can possible be ambiguous about clearing a floor? Either you clear it or you don't," Danny said.

"I wasn't up there," Joseph said, "but it wasn't taken into consideration that there was access to a crawl space over the storage facility."

"The agents found the hatch," Sam said.

"They found it too late. If Agent Malone had…"

Sam wanted to defend Jack. What Joseph tried to accuse him of was just too stupid. It had not been his job to foresee the unforeseen although she suspected that Jack felt different about that. She glanced in his direction and was stopped by his warning look.

"I wasn't thorough enough," Jack said evenly. "I think I've learned my lesson. But we all have to keep in mind how fast things can get out of control. If Agent Crane hadn't reacted as fast as he did our suspect might have shot a second time. He was alert. That's what's most important."

"Hero of the hour," Danny mumbled.

Jack tried to find a more comfortable position. He'd been checked out at the hospital. One of his ribs was cracked and a deep bruise was beginning to spread on his chest. His head hurt, breathing was painful and he felt like shit. The doctor at the hospital had promised pain-medication, but somewhere along the way the notion had gotten lost. Probably because the overworked nurse had been seriously pissed off at him. He suspected that his bad mood and gruff manner in the aftermath of the shooting had something to do with that, and, of course, he had been too proud to ask.

000

Later in the afternoon Vivian found him in his office. She sighed inwardly when she saw the awkward way he held his body and the deep frown on his face. He was pushing himself too far, he always did. She came closer, realizing that the report he was working on had something to do with performance evaluation and was not something he needed to be working on.

"We're going home," she said.

He raised his head and saw Danny and Jonathan passing behind Vivian, both giving him a short wave. He waved back.

"Have a nice evening," he said to Vivian, going back to his work.

"You should have gone home after they checked you out at the hospital."

"I'm perfectly fine, Vivian."

She knew that talking to him right now was futile.

"Fine, Jack," she said, "You have a nice evening, too."

Her irony was lost on him. He didn't even react.

"Oh, and Samantha went home half an hour ago, so you're really the last one hanging around."

There was a subtle shift in the way he held himself. So subtle that Vivian didn't quite know what to make of it. It might have been disappointment. Then he took off his reading glasses and pressed his fingers to his eyes and it became more evident – desperate longing, held under tight control.

So it is that bad, Vivian thought.

"Goodbye, Jack," she said.

"Bye, Viv," she heard him mumble before she closed the door.

TBC