My first Without a Trace WiP. Unbeta'd. This chapter's shorter than the rest. I don't own or am in any way affiliated with CBS or this show. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. And since I lack the ability to make any more complex sentences at this hour of the morning: enjoy.

-

Drift away into nothing at all

Find the grace to be nothing at all

Fade away and end up nothing at all

-Rob Dougan, Nothing at All

-

. . . Sam?

The warehouse is dark, and he can barely see past his own gun, drawn and positioned in front of his body as he carefully makes his way through the building. Her footsteps echo in his ears ever so slightly, assuring him she's all right despite the fact that he cannot see her. Ahead of him, light glows from beyond a door, trying to make its way out from behind the door through the spaces between the wall and the doorjamb like a beast trying to escape its cage.

As she is finally visible to him, her eyes and body language signal that she's going to open it. She stands next to the door, perilously close to the danger beyond it. He tries to reach out and stop her but he suddenly feels like he's a thousand miles away, able to identify her every facial feature but unable to prevent her from opening the door.

Before he can gather the strength to move -- as hard as he tries, his legs just won't carry him any closer to her -- her hand grasps the doorknob and there's a sudden crash. And a gunshot.

Sam? Oh, God.

Sam?

-

"Wake up." A voice commanded him, and gradually Jack awoke from his slumber. Maria was sitting beside him, her voice impatient and her eyes alert and focused, even at the early hour of the morning. "Wake up, Jack."

Her voice sounded cold to him. "What's the matter?" He yawned as he watched her rise and pull on her robe.

Maria sharply uttered, "You were saying her name again," before heading into the bathroom and closing the door firmly behind her. Jack sighed, slowly rising from the bed. He had been plagued by these nightmares for about a week now, ever since the SWAT team had been called in to deal with Kevin Grant and the hostage situation. All he could do at night was lay awake and replay the events of the bookstore from all those months ago, and see Sam and the blood that was everywhere . . .

Maria would have called it post-traumatic stress disorder, had he told her. She liked to diagnose people and find a medical term for their problems, which annoyed him. You couldn't put a scientific label on the something he and Sam had together and why it was making him feel like this.

-

"I'll have an espresso and one of those chocolate chip scone things. They're really good, especially if you get there just as they've taken them out of the oven and they're all hot and chocolate-y -- "

"Martin, it's seven in the morning. I'll get you a latté and a blueberry muffin." Vivian rolled her eyes at her co-worker as they sat in the office. "The last thing we need is you on a sugar rush."

Sam entered, placing her bag on the floor next to her chair. "'Morning."

"'Morning," grumbled Martin, irritated at Vivian's refusal to meet his sugary requests. "Where's Jack?"

"I don't track his every movement, you know."

"Glad to see we're all cheerful this morning." Danny observed as he hurried into the room. "And we're all here before Jack. That has to be some sort of record."

Vivian headed downstairs to grab coffee for herself and Martin, passing Jack on her way. Noticing that he was the last to arrive, Jack hastily offered a "Sorry I'm late" to the rest of his team before joining them at the table where they were gathered.

"Tricia Elliot, age eight." Jack began passing around case files, allowing his co-workers to briefly scan through the details of their missing person. "She was last seen last night before she went to bed. Parents woke up this morning and she's gone. It's presumably a kidnapping -- the window to her bedroom was broken from the outside and there are signs of a struggle in her room."

"The parents didn't hear anything?" Danny asked incredulously as Vivian returned with the coffees and a muffin for Martin, who looked at the pastry with disgust before taking a large bite of it anyway.

"Apparently not," Sam answered.

Unlike Martin, Vivian, was ignoring her coffee in order to scan through the file. "Weren't there two other kidnappings like this one in two other towns before?" he asked, prompting Jack to nod. Immediately the atmosphere became tenser as Vivian stiffened in her seat.

"Sam, you check for any similarities between this case and the two others -- see if there are any links between them." As Samantha rose to get to work on her computer, Jack continued: "Danny, you and Martin go interview the family. Vivian, I'd like to have a word."

After the rest of the team had dispersed, Jack led Vivian into his office. "I know those other two kidnapping cases affected you personally -- " he began.

"I'm not a rookie, Jack." She interrupted him sternly. "I know how to handle a case, and I'd just like to make sure we're not responsible for another child's death this time around."

"If it is the same guy. Trying to convince me you won't go berserk on a witness again by immediately leaping to conclusions probably isn't the wisest decision."

She sighed. "What do you want me to do? Transfer to another case?"

"If you have to, you will. Just try not to get too wrapped up in this again, or you'll be sifting through cold cases for the remainder of this investigation."

Vivian nodded and silently exited his office. Sitting behind his desk, Jack could see Sam at work on her computer, checking and cross-referencing in the safety of the office. But no matter how safe she was now, he knew he'd be having the same nightmare tonight, and eventually that nightmare would become a reality. She would rebel and he'd be forced to put her back out in the field, using half-excuses about the trauma she must still be dealing with as a last resort to her going back to her real job.

Until then, he would just have to try to save someone else.