Story Challenge by kate98 (original) (raw)

Disclaimer: I own neither Without A Trace, nor the characters involved. They belong to Warner Brothers Television. I realise no financial returns from these works, they are for entertainment purposes only.
Title: "Too Little, Too Late"
Fandom: Without A Trace
Characters: Samantha Spade/Jack Malone
Word Count: 2,400 (approx)
Rating: PG (if that)
Spoilers: Season 4
Credits: Beta'd by the great kate98

Author's Notes (to Kate):: (a) Kate, it is 0111, my time. That makes it 0311 your time, therefore I am legally posting on the 24 April date you gave (I discussed this with my LJ legal advisor goodisrelative (b) I am doing this now so I can have a nice, relaxing day with my exam tomorrow (or, rather, today). (c) I need something to do while waiting for the Benydryl to kick in, as monster mosquito season has started again. (d) I love messing with your head ;)

… I know it should be easy but it's not
And now that I would give all that I've got

It's too little, too late
No going back to the start
You only lose when you hesitate
And now that I would give you my heart
It's too little, too late.

~~ Amanda Marshall: "Too Little, Too Late"

Too Little, Too Late

Every day, another tie. Everyone else laughs and jokes and talks about how great it is.

She wishes she could. She tried getting over him, going the classic route for someone younger, smarter, funnier, not to mention better looking. That worked well, now she has two exes in the office. At least they have a support network. Fortunately, they're not really using it.

Martin, though, she can deal with. They've talked it out, worked it out, and managed to salvage the friendship.

Maybe if Anne wasn't so nice, so likeable… maybe if Jack wasn't so happy… but those dumb ties are driving her crazy. A new one, every single day, and he's so uncertain, soliciting opinions. Elena thinks it's cute. Samantha just tries to resist grabbing her gun and shooting something. She's trying to pretend she's over him – that wouldn't help the image.

Not that it's perfect, Danny suspects something. Smart, perceptive, sensitive Danny. Sometimes she wants to shove him off a balcony. Oh, he's good at keeping secrets, but he likes to know them. He'll nose around and offer sympathy, but that is not what she wants right now. What she wants is vindication. She always knew Maria was a bitch and a half, but when Jack found out, did he come to her? No. He moped around and then went and fell for his best friend's widow.

A thought occurs to her, and she tries to resist smashing her fist into her keyboard – that would be bad. But… if Jack's weakness is blondes, then why are his 'legitimate' relationships always with brunettes?

She closes her eyes. Martin has his pain-pills, Danny has his booze and she has Jack. At least they get rehab and church basements. She can't even take it to her shrink because Lisa knows everybody involved and won't be able to help making judgements.

It's not fair. She used to be the one to ease his uncertainty about everything, now he doesn't even ask her opinion on stripes versus solids. Elena, who seems to think it's all just a giggle, she's the fashion expert. She doesn't even care about Jack, beyond the fact that he's her boss.

Not only that, but he's changed. He's relaxed, now. He's in love. He doesn't snap as much anymore, the way he used to. As such, it's not just her he's thrown over, it's the entire team. He holes up in his office, spending time on the phone. Talking.

She remembers the way it used to be, the strange mixture of fear, sympathy and attraction every time he yelled or barked an order. She can still feel it, but if she went to him now, to comfort, to calm, to… he'd act like she was crazy. He's already lost too much faith in her. Why, when she and Martin… why wasn't he jealous? Why did he have to take Martin's side in the whole thing, why did he have to sympathise with the enemy? He was supposed to get mad, try to prove himself. That's what the alpha-male of the species does when he's usurped by a younger challenger. The pretender and the pack leader aren't supposed to band together and trade stories. She wishes she could blame it on politics, but the argument doesn't work. Jack's not playing nice to Martin to get on Victor's good side, because Martin isn't on Victor's good side. If anything, Martin works to stay on his father's bad side, or at least his annoyed one. That's what confuses her about his anger over her reluctance to meet his family. You'd think if he spent that much time avoiding them, he wouldn't care if she went to the damned wedding or not.

Men. She's beginning to see why her mother chose not to get involved again after her own disaster. They don't really have much to recommend them.

And yet… She sighs. Remembers.

...
She could see him through the glass, arguing with somebody on the phone. He looked tired, then again at this time of night, who wouldn't? This case… this case was one of those_, the kind that wore everybody down into nothing beings. He'd sent Viv home a couple of hours ago and Danny'd skipped out, claiming something about needing a meeting or they'd be looking for him, tomorrow. Samantha had avoided banishment by staying quiet and keeping to herself._

Now, though… Jack looked at the point of giving up. Not quitting just for an evening, but far, far longer than that. Cautiously, she knocked on the door to his office. He held up a finger. She waited until he finished arguing on the phone and gestured for her to come in.

"Bad news?" She had a feeling that it was more than that. Just the utter exhaustion on his face, this was beyond a physical tired.

"Maria." He closed his eyes and sighed. "It's our anniversary."

"Ouch." She couldn't understand, though, why Maria couldn't understand. Yes, it was an important day, but surely Jack had made it to enough anniversaries over the years, and as a mother she

had to understand that a missing child outweighed anything else, right?

Well, obviously not, because Jack looked like he'd just taken the verbal beating of a lifetime and a half. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, before looking up at Sam again, like he'd never seen her before. "Coffee." It sounded more like an order than anything. "We need coffee."

"Right. I'll go…"

"Not here. I've got to get out of here."

"Okay." She doesn't argue.

"I'll meet you downstairs. I just have to clear up a few things."

She wonders if he didn't already have something in mind then, instead of later, after coffee when the exhaustion still didn't leave and they were left running on nerves and instinct. Sending her on ahead to allay suspicions. It's possible – that would be so much like him. Protecting her, even before anything began. That was Jack, always the gentleman. Martin… Martin could be a gentleman when he put his mind to it, but she always sensed he wanted more from her than she was ever willing to give. More than he'd give, too… she told him once that he made her happy, but couldn't get the same reassurance in return. It's almost… it's almost as if he's not quite sure what that is and is afraid to try it.

But Jack she could make happy. They worked, even though what they had never could in the long run. They agreed early on that she wasn't going to ask for more… Kate and Hannah needed their father. Sam knows too well the pain of growing up without one. Of listening every day to the litany of what a bastard he was. Mom would cry if she could see her little girl, now.

"Bitter and obsessive." A voice in her ear makes her turn her head. Martin crouches by her chair, grinning. She's not sure what set him off; he can go from hours of silence to a non-sequitur with no warning whatsoever. Even after their time together, she still has no idea what goes on inside his head

"I am not." She smiles back. It's good to see him joke again, even if it's about her.

"Trust me. I am the king of bitter and obsessive. I know it when I see it." The humour isn't quite all there, some of that he means. That is one of the things that drives her crazy about him, and not crazy-in-love, either. Martin never seems to have good things to say about himself. Ask him to describe himself, and the first three words out of his mouth would be negative. He's cocky, yet with no confidence whatsoever. She hates that. Jack doesn't brag, doesn't show off, but he knows what he's good at and does it.

"Oh?"

"I once had a girlfriend who cheated on me. Anyway, I found out about it."

"And…" She senses a punchline and that he's going to somehow turn himself into the butt of the joke.

"So… I wrote down all her credit-card numbers, then when she was planning one of her big shopping sprees, reported them all stolen."

Sam looks at him seriously. "I would have killed you."

"She never figured it out."

"Maybe you should date more intelligent women." They both jump at the intrusion of another voice. That's another thing about Jack that drives her crazy in an oh-so-wonderful way. The way he can be quiet until he has something to say, the way he doesn't need to be at the centre of attention the way Martin or even Danny need to be.

"I tried." Martin glances quickly over at Sam. "It ended badly."

Sam hits him with a file folder and Martin pretends to wince.

Jack just shakes his head. "I said smart_er_. Not too smart." A look passes between them, though, one of mutual sympathy. You poor bastard, it says. Like they're somehow wiser for the experience and are both glad she's 'ex-' and not 'now-'.

As Jack walks away to go discuss something with Elena, Sam hits Martin again, this time harder. "It ended badly?"

Martin raises his hands in supplication, or possibly self-defence. "It did. It's all been uphill from there." He frowns. "Well, between us, anyway. Some moments of my life I wouldn't exactly say were 'up.'"

"No." She's glad she's still got him, even to be a friend. Those long, scary hours of waiting to hear from the hospital, and the deep, lancing horror when she stared at a stolen prescription bottle, she can't forget those moments no matter how hard she tries. Looking at it in the illumination of truth, she realises how bad a fit they really were. She used to think he'd never open up, and now she knows why. Martin wanted to make her happy, and didn't trust her with his sorrow. Martin was afraid of her. Jack's only fear was for her. For her happiness, for her career, but he always let her salve his pain. Jack was beat-up, but never beaten. For all she would swear that Martin was never touched, his psyche is a mass of scar-tissue on top of scar-tissue, where it isn't exposed nerve. Danny isn't as damaged as Martin. "How's it going?"

For a moment, he's unguarded, grimacing briefly. Then the mask slides back into place and he steps back into his role. "Okay. One day at a time." He says the last words mockingly, though she can't be quite sure if his bitterness is directed at the program, or the fact that his overly-intellectual mind won't let him fully embrace it. That's another thing. Jack's the psychologist, the analyst, and he doesn't break everything down into minutiae the way Martin does.

"Hey… don't knock it," she chides him. "We like having you around."

"That's a first." God… how could she never have seen that? The way he just has to drag himself down, the way any time she ever said something designed to make him feel better, he'd twist the words into a weapon. She can't deal with that level of insecurity, not all the time. Jack never gave her that.

"Martin…" She warns him and he responds with a semi-pout before moving on. Danny cautioned her not to indulge him when he gets in those moods, and it's been the easiest part of the whole process.

She misses that with Jack. It was nice not being with someone with the capability to be a petulant, whiny brat. No… whiny is not a word she would ascribe to Jack. She sips her coffee. The smell takes her back.

...

"Mmm. Thank you." She sipped her coffee. She hadn't realised how much she needed this, until now. Coffee… the comfort-food of law-enforcement_. Let mere mortals have their chocolate and their 'just-like-mom's' meatloaf, for her – for_ any of them, coffee would trump it all.

"You're welcome." He smiled, as though knowing she didn't expect take-out. His hand brushed up against hers as he reached to open her car door. She looked down and then up at him as he stared intently at her.

Oh my. She'd always been a sucker for the 'romantic moment' – as much as she laughed at the idea in public, she used to while away some nights imagining a perfect one. This came damn close. She could feel her heart. Instead of saying 'no', like it should have, it just pounded harder, like she'd been running, or like they'd just had sex. Her mind should have had a million excuses, but she couldn't find a single one. Not even 'married' or 'boss' seemed to mean anything.

He raised his hand from the door-handle to her face, cupping her chin as he kissed her. It lasted only briefly, before he pulled back to study her face. "Come on."

Later, when he must have thought she was asleep, he sat on the bed, head bowed. She said nothing, just put her arms around him to comfort. He didn't pull away or recoil like so many men might have. Instead, he relaxed into her embrace, letting her care for him. She loved him for it.

She compares that to Martin. Even the time he broke down and cried, she never got the feeling she was close to him or how he felt. She was just… there. She had her arms around him, but she got the sense that he might as well have been alone for all the good he let it do. He didn't have the time to wait for her to figure out her problems? Yes, Mr. Pot, but since we happen to share the same kitchen, can you kindly keep your remarks on my personal appearance to yourself? If he thought she seemed burned…

Not until now. She hears a mild curse and turns to see Jack blotting a spot off today's tie. Automatically, she glances down at the drawer where she keeps her purse, and emergency laundry wipes for times just like this. A mature person would offer him one. A gracious person would take it to him.

She shrugs, turning back to her computer. He isn't hers to take care of anymore, he made that all too clear. Let the coffee fall where it may.

Seriously, though, Kate, you never got back to me on headers or tags. Let me know if there's anything you want me to change.