Title: February

Author: Katerina

Rating: PG

Pairing: J/S, of course… with mentions of M/S

Disclaimer: They're really not mine. Trust me.

Author's Notes: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I'm glad to know you guys are still with me.

Chapter Twelve

It is a little after midnight when the phone rings. Jack reaches for his cell automatically, before realizing that neither it nor the bedside table is in the right place.

Beside him, Sam heaves herself to her feet and staggers into the living room. He rolls over, propping his head on his arms as he listens to her voice.

"Meredith?" she sounds confused. "What is it?" There is a pause. "What?" Now she sounds worried. Jack opens his eyes, staring at the pale ceiling in the dark.

"Is anyone – " She is cut off. "Of course, I'll do everything I can to help."

He hears the quiet beep as she replaces the cordless phone in its holder. There is a soft exhalation of breath, a moment in which he can sense her indecision. Then, bare feet are padding softly across the floor, back to the bedroom. Her clothes rustle slightly as she gathers them from the floor, tugging them on in the dark, quiet so as not to wake him.

Too late.

"Sam?" She stills, standing beside the bed, caught.

"Go back to sleep." Her voice is soft, but slightly husky.

"Sam, what's wrong?" He sits up, and fumbles in the dark for a moment before she takes pity on him and flicks on the bedside lamp. Her face glows creamy pale in the yellow light.

There are tears on her cheeks.

"What is it?" he asks again, gentler this time. And she tells him.

XXXXX

In Pearl Bay, the pub closes at ten o'clock on a weeknight. Sometimes, during a heatwave, it stays open later, because it is one of the few buildings with air-conditioning. On those nights, the lights are kept low, and everything is quiet and exhaustedly still. On those nights, it is too hot to move.

The air is warm tonight, but not unpleasantly so, and light blazes from the Tropical Star's every window. She can see the bustle of people inside, hear the clamor of voices from where she stands in the parking lot.

There is a squad car parked out front, but its lights are off.

Jack follows silently behind her as she crosses to the front doors. She is grateful for the solid mass at her back, nudging her forward. Oddly, she is scared.

XXXXX

Inside, the front bar is a mass of confusion, all color and noise. Jack pauses, taken aback at the almost physical strength of the strident Australian accents; Sam ignores them, and pushes her way through to the center of the crowd. Jack follows quickly, afraid to lose sight of the one known thing in the chaos.

The nucleus of the group seems to consist of red-faced, corpulent man in blue satin pyjama pants and a mustard colored shirt. He is standing next to a whiteboard, sweating visibly as he shouts ignored orders at the crowd around him.

Sam stops at the edge of the throng, uncertain. Jack squeezes in next to her.

"Who's the dope?" he whispers into her ear, and she rolls her eyes.

"Bob Jelly. Big man in the town. He doesn't like me."

"Why not?"

She shrugs. "I think because he hovered," and the way she says the word makes Jack know exactly what she means, "until I nearly broke his arm."

He bites back a smile. That's the Sam he knows.

Someone catches Sam's arm through the crush. The woman is in her sixties, with faded ginger hair and slightly motherly air.

"Jaime, you're here."

Sam clasps the woman's hands. "Of course, Meredith." She opens her mouth to continue, but stops at the stern look her neighbor gives her. Very significantly, Meredith's gaze shifts to focus on Jack. Sam bites back a sigh.

"Meredith, this is Jack Malone. He's a… friend from the States. Jack, this is Meredith Monahan, my neighbor."

"Pleased to meet you, Jack." He is surveyed from head to toe, but kindly. "You're quite the talk of the town."

He raises his eyes at Sam, who shrugs. "Thank you," he replies, because it seems appropriate. Meredith smiles.

"And what do you do, Jack?"

For a long moment, Sam wonders whether he will lie, to protect her, to protect himself. He does not.

"I'm with the FBI," he says, and Sam watches Meredith's lips tighten, just slightly. This town holds a lot of secrets, and Meredith knows them all: they are nothing criminal, exactly, but not entirely legal, either.

"Missing persons," he clarifies, and Meredith's eyes widen.

"Well," she says, in her slightly breathy voice. "Isn't that convenient?"

End Chapter Twelve.