Jbird has, as always, done a fantastic job on this and I hear she's even up to something of her own... Let's see what happens!
Merry Christmas to all of you! I hope you enjoy the chapter.
Tomorrow
-Chapter 3-
Moments of Transition, Part 2
April 2001
With Vivian gone, Jack drew the blinds and lay down on the sofa. He tried to rest but, as soon as he closed his eyes and relaxed, the pain rose to new heights. Every breath was agony. He stood up again, rummaging around in his desk drawer for a couple of minutes, hoping to find some leftover pills from the time his leg had been bad, but all he could find was a bottle of aspirin. He swore, closing the drawer with too much force, feeling like a drug addict who couldn't get a fix.
There was a knock on the door. When he didn't answer, it opened and Sam peered inside.
"Sorry, Jack," she whispered. "Do you want to be alone?"
He felt vastly relieved. Her presence alone had pain-killing abilities.
"No," he said, "come in."
She entered, carrying a small paper bag.
"This is for you," she said, handing it over.
He opened it. There was an orange paper box inside. He recognized it and smiled.
"You are my hero," he said.
"I got the extra strong ones. Is that all right?"
"It's fine. It'll do."
"Why didn't they give you anything at the hospital? We should sue them for malpractice."
Her face seemed unbelievably sweet to him. He knew that what he felt for her had to be a symptom of the misery his personal life consisted of. He had never been this smitten before. Seeing his daughters and seeing Sam were the only moments in the course of the day when he felt alive.
"I'll survive," he said, fetching a bottle of water from the bottom desk drawer and swallowing two of the pills.
Sam looked at him concerned, not sure that taking two extra strong Motrin was a good idea, but decided to stay out of it. He was most likely used to the stuff.
Jack settled down on the sofa, resting his head against the leather cushions.
"I'll drive you home if you want," Sam offered.
He shook his head.
She came and sat beside him, fighting the impulse to hold him.
"You scared me," she said.
"I scared myself," he confessed. "A minute later I'd have removed the bulletproof vest. Heaven knows…"
"It was good the bullet was flying at a downward angle. I felt it go right past my face. If you had been a little closer to me it might have struck higher and-"
"You felt it go past you…?" He went pale.
"Yes."
Without thinking he lifted a hand to her right cheek, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin.
"Here?" His voice was thick with emotion.
Sam was stunned by his reaction.
"No. The other side."
He lifted his other hand, cupping her face with tenderness. She couldn't believe what was happening.
"Jack," she whispered, searching to meet his eyes, but he'd already lowered his gaze. After a second his hands fell away.
It was very quiet in the office. No phone rang, no footsteps could be heard and there was only the faint hum of the traffic down on the streets. Jack didn't dare to look at her face. He had made a mistake, the worst one a superior could make towards a subordinate. She had trusted him and he should never have taken advantage of that trust. He turned his head toward her, afraid what he might see on her face, and was surprised by the look of longing there. He wanted to reach over and take her in his arms. With difficulty he pulled himself away from that precipice.
"I'm sorry," he finally said.
"Are you?"
Trust Sam to be straightforward.
"No," he confessed.
"Then don't play games with me."
"I'm not playing. Listen, Sam…"
"If this is the part where you tell me that you didn't mean to touch me and that you are married and so on - just keep it to yourself."
She sounded upset and Jack felt panic rise in him, cursing himself that he would lose her and her trust over one weak moment.
"What do you want me to say?" he softly asked.
Tears spilled over and ran down her face.
"Don't be like everyone else. Just be honest with me."
"I-," he began, then stopped. He wanted to say: I'm married, I'm your supervisor, but for some reason the words didn't seem honest at all.
Behind her tears there was still trust. Jack took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his ribs.
"You're not within my reach."
Sam smiled through her tears.
"Because…?"
"Because I'm married. Because I have two beautiful daughters. I couldn't… Sam, believe me… I… Even if…"
She decided to let him off the hook.
"It's okay, Jack." She wiped her tears away. "I think we have all been pretty shaken up today. And I was afraid we had lost you."
Against better judgment Jack's hand went up to her face again, cupping her cheek and she wrapped one hand around his wrist, laying the other against the back of his hand, leaning into his palm, closing her eyes.
"This will pass," she said.
"Yeah." But part of him hoped that it wouldn't.
"I was married once. I was eighteen, very stupid, very naïve and madly in love. I thought it would last for life."
"What happened?"
"I fell out of love once we were married. It happened very quickly. After five months we decided to get a divorce. He wasn't mean or anything, I just…fell out of love with him. I've never really trusted my feelings again, afterwards."
Her grip on his hand tightened. Jack felt a deep pain start somewhere inside him, thinking it was her way of telling him that whatever she felt for him, it wouldn't last.
"Who was he?"
"Just someone I grew up with. We went to school together. I thought I knew him. Boy, was I wrong. I guess you never really know anyone, not even after years and years…"
Her thumb caressed the inside of his wrist.
"No," Jack said, "I guess you don't."
She let go of his hand, putting some distance between them so he couldn't touch her anymore.
"We have to leave it at that, then," she said.
He could only stare at her, helpless.
"Unless you want me to transfer to another team. If you prefer…"
Panic rose in his throat like bile.
"No."
"Can we do this?"
For a while he had thought the Motrin was beginning to work. Now his chest again felt tight and he couldn't breathe. She looked so cool and objective, sitting there across from him, talking with detachment about an attraction that filled up every nook and cranny of the void that had been inside him. He would not be able to shake it off. He would be able to hide it, though. It never occurred to him that she was even better at hiding things than he was.
"Yes…we can," he said.
000
It had been a hard day at court for Maria. When she came home at 7 p.m., she found that the babysitter had already left. She could tell, as the pink, furry coat that Maura wore was nowhere in sight. Alarmed, she placed her briefcase by the door.
"Hanna," she called out.
"I'm here, Mom."
She found her daughter at the kitchen table, immersed in homework.
"Hey, darling," she said, giving Hanna a kiss on the top of the head. "What about Maura? She didn't leave you alone, did she?"
Hanna looked up, gloom on her face.
"Dad sent her home."
"He's home already? Where is he?"
"He's sleeping."
Maria closed her eyes, getting angry and tried to hide it from her daughter. A couple of weeks ago, the five year old son of a co-worker had gotten out of the apartment, and taken a walk along Hudson Street to get to the fire station at the intersection of North Moore and Varick, while she was taking an afternoon nap. The incident had scared Maria and she had talked it over with Jack. They'd agreed that the children should never be unsupervised. He knew better than anyone what could happen to a child in a town like this.
"He's hurt," Hanna added.
"What?"
"He got hurt at work. He says he was in a fight. I think he was shot…"
"Where's Kate?"
"I think she's playing with her dolls."
Maria found her four year old daughter in the children's room, going through a stack of picture books, obviously deciding which one to look at. She went in to give her a relieved hug and a kiss before finding her husband.
The door to the bedroom was open. She walked in and found Jack stretched out on the bed. He opened his eyes when he heard her.
"We had an agreement," she said.
He looked totally confused and she felt her face flush with anger.
"We agreed that Hanna and Kate should never be left alone. That was barely three weeks ago and you have already forgotten."
"I'm here. They're not alone," he defended himself.
Maria despised the way he tried to worm himself out of situations like this.
"You were sleeping, Jack. You send Maura home. Hanna's in the kitchen, Kate's in her room, and you have no idea what they're up to."
"Maria…"
"Why can't you just stick with our agreements? This is irresponsible of you."
A look of irritation crossed his face and he fell silent.
"So…we're not going to talk about this again?"
"They were not unsupervised," he said. The words sounded lame in his ears. Maria tore off her scarf and flung it on the bed. When he didn't react, she left the room, fuming.
Jack rolled onto his side. This seemed to be his day for screwing everything up. He covered his eyes with one hand. For the past hour, since he had come home, he and Kate had been looking at picture books together. Kate had been delighted. Every time they had finished one, she had gone to select another. It had been a really nice hour.
He heard Maria's footsteps returning and braced himself for another round.
She came in and he heard her rummage around in the desk they shared. He didn't move.
"Hanna says you've been shot."
She sounded like a lawyer accusing him of first degree murder. It made him feel instantly guilty. She always had that effect on him. The picture of Sam's face flitted through his mind and he pushed it away, guilt deepening.
"It was nothing," he said. "I was wearing a bulletproof vest. Nothing happened. I just hit my head."
She came closer, sitting down beside him, running her fingers through his hair. He winced when she found the spot.
"Don't be a baby, Jack. Yes, that's quite a lump. Let me see where the bullet hit."
He rolled onto his back and opened his shirt, letting her examine the bruise. Then she noticed the box of Motrin on the bedside table. She opened it and took stock of the contents.
"You're addicted to this stuff."
"I'm not. My knee has been better for months. I haven't-"
"You've been eating this stuff like candy and now you have an excuse to start all over again. Why don't you throw in some Xanax, too, for good measure? Knock yourself out."
She was referring to the prescription still residing on the shelves of the bathroom cupboard. Dr. Harris, the In House Counselor had prescribed it for him after Steve's suicide. He had tried to talk to her about the guilt he felt, failing Steve as a supervisor, but discovered he couldn't do it. Instead he'd settled on telling her about sleepless nights and how everything seemed pointless to him.
He had the prescription filled, but when he realized what it was he hadn't bothered to open it. His mother had been on medication like that all of her life, and she had still killed herself. There was no way he was going to touch that stuff. Besides, he was not depressed. Dr. Harris had gotten that wrong.
Maria still looked at him waiting for an answer and Jack defended himself in the only way he knew, retreating into silence.
She went away again, probably to prepare dinner and left him to battle with his own inner demons. There was nothing like an argument with Maria to bring them out into the open. Later they would have the other old argument about how his job was just too dangerous, about how bulletproof vests couldn't really protect you, and about his responsibility for his family. Jack suspected he would spend the night on the sofa.
"Daddy?"
Kate was standing beside the bed. He made room for her and she climbed up, settling safely in the crook of his arm, holding out the picture book. He opened it. For a while he forgot about everything else.
000
Sam couldn't sleep. The day's events played over and over in her head. She had tried watching television, reading a crime novel and drinking hot milk with honey. Usually one of those things was enough to put her to sleep, but tonight nothing worked. She pressed her pillow tighter to her stomach, curling up around it.
She was scared. She had tried to be rational and aloof all day, but in the dead of night, rationality was just a word and aloofness was worth nothing. She could still feel the warmth of Jack's hands on her face.
I can do this, she told herself. I can do this.
She would have to, because the alternative was to not see him anymore, and she couldn't face that. She tried to remember when exactly being in love had become something else. Something so deep she didn't have a word for it, but she couldn't remember. It had happened months ago. Today had only brought it to the surface. She thought about the things she had told him, implying that her feelings were shallow, that everything was just an infatuation that would pass in time. He had tried to be honest with her and she had not been able to be honest with him. She had left out the real reason why she had fallen out of love with Gary. She had neglected to tell him that her feelings for him didn't even come close to what she had felt for her former husband. If she had been madly in love then, in what way was she in love now? She didn't have a word for that either.
After a while she relinquished control. Feeling took over and washed through her like the incoming tide.
She cried herself to sleep.
TBC