Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained here-in are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Films, CBS, etc. No infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

Characters: Martin/Sam friendship, Jack/Anne, implied Danny/Elena

Rating: PG

Author's Notes: 'Crossroads': so much potential, so little pay-off. So not watching next season. Spoilers up until 4x24.

Comments: I love them. And concrit is much loved too.

She watched them. She seemed to do a lot of that lately, watching. She watched a mother be torn apart inside when she learnt agents were being removed from her son's case because he was black. She watched an HIV-positive woman hold her newborn, with the blissful father beside them. She watched two reunited lovers cling to each other as if to say, "Without you, I'd be dead."

And it all made her sad, of course. But more than that, she felt indescribably jealous.

Watching Jack and Anne reunite didn't provoke them same kind of jealousy that his relationship with her had done before. When Elena commented on the choice of ties and Jack subtly let it slip that he was happy in a new relationship, that had been a moment of jealousy. Of disbelief. It was the same kind of feeling that every ex gets when the person they loved is suddenly happy with someone else. It's provoked completely by the realization that you are replaceable. There was nothing in your past relationship that would keep him pining for you, day in and day out. He had moved on. You were the past. He found something better.

It made her jealous and frustrated that she was expendable, and their relationship was not the be all and end all of the world. Samantha Spade always thought she was more special than most. So she got jealous. It was the same reason that she refused to ask Martin anything about his personal life. She'd rather live in a world where she was ignorant to the fact that he had also moved on, without her.

Now, seeing her boss and another agent holding each other so damn lovingly made her cringe. They were both federal agents who occasionally work together. And no one seemed to care. It made her remember Martin's pleas to just drop the charade and act normal at work. She had refused, too afraid of all the fallout from office gossip. As she stared at Jack and Anne, she realized that people really don't care, and that they would have cared about her and Martin even less. However, her musings about past relationships were cut short by the bubbling of jealousy returning.

She wouldn't have anyone to hold her like that. If she had been in Anne's position, Jack would have cared, a lot. Martin would have cared a lot. But then so would have Danny, Viv, and even Elena maybe. And all because she was a friend and partner. Not because of a deep love of her, a love just for who she is without her titles. Jack wasn't holding Anne the federal agent and lawyer. He was holding Anne, his lover. If it had been her, it would have been Samantha - Team member and friend, maybe even ex-lover, but nothing more. She had the chance for someone to hold her like that. Both times she was being loaded onto an ambulance. He had gone with her the second time. She had pulled her hand away when he tried to hang on. Even coming, once again, to the brink of death, she still couldn't handle the glances of the paramedics. She didn't know them and they didn't know her, but it was still too much. The one time someone would have held her that way she pushed him away.

She watched Danny run his fingers down Elena's arm and felt anger seeping to the surface. Whether they were together, or had been, they were affected by each other. It was subtle too. They weren't flaunting it, but Danny wasn't hiding it. He kept a lot of thoughts inside, but he had never seemed to approve Sam's decision to hide her "something" with Martin. She guessed he would never hide his own either. Everyone else could do it so easily. Jack and Anne, Danny and Elena, even Viv had her husband. She still refused to think about Martin. Why was it so damn easy for everyone else when she had to struggle and fight with herself every step of the way?

Excusing herself from the scene, she signaled for one of the NYPD officers to drive her back to the office. She'd leave the car for Viv who was still tying up loose ends with witnesses and getting statements from officers. Sam said nothing to the officer as he drove her back downtown. Usually small talk was an easy way to pass the time. Now silence seemed much more appropriate for her mood. She thanked him as her pulled up at her building and rushed inside. Maybe there was something she could do there to keep her mind off the image of Jack and Anne, pressed together, all clingy and in love.

The office was a mess. Broken glass still littered the floor as the final crime scene photos were taken for the case reports. She winced as it crunched under her feet. She strolled over to her desk hoping to see some blank report cover page, or anything that could distract her long enough. There was nothing. Jack usually handed those out after a case. He wouldn't be back to the office tonight. She thought about taking one from his office but shook her head against the idea. She would put back together all the files, box them up, tidy up and then go home. That was enough mindless work to make her just tired enough to crash when she crawled into her empty bed. With a long sigh, she sunk into her chair, tossing her jacket on the desk beside her.

Flicking on the monitor to see that once again she had no new email messages, she heard someone walking back into the office. She prayed it was Van Doren with orders or a new case. She glanced up to see Martin, completely oblivious to her presence.

She watched him gather a few personal effects, turn off his computer, and close up a few file folders. Then he walked away. She wanted to call to him and ask him the hard questions that she really didn't want to know the answers to. More than anything, she wanted some reassurance that someone in the world would have clung to her the same way Jack did to Anne. It wasn't that she just wanted anyone to be that for her, she really did want him. But he left without a word to her. Occasionally he would say goodbye these days, usually out of politeness. He never made a special visit to her desk to wish her goodnight. She had become one of the "guys". Not Sam.

"'Night, guys," he would say and leave for the night.

Now he didn't even offer that. Closing down her email, and shutting off her own computer, she sat staring at the black screen. Footsteps echoed back towards her and she looked up expecting to see Viv or Danny. She saw him, and finally he saw her.

"Oh, Samantha. Didn't see you there."

He called her Samantha. At first she had resisted him calling her Sam, now she wished he would again. Samantha sounded strange coming from his lips. Her name had sounded so much different, so much better all the times he moaned out that one syllable. There was something cold and professional in the way he said her full name now.

"Yeah, just wrapping up. Heard the news?" Anything to keep him around just a little longer.

"Yep." He paused, unsure what to say next. Finally he looked away and continued, "Just forgot my cell." He grabbed the phone and shoved it in his jacket pocket, and gazed at her curiously. "Is everything okay?"

He didn't sound all that interested she noted. He probably had somewhere to be and was just asking out of some misplaced feeling of obligation.

"I'm just...Yeah, everything's fine," she finished hoping he would take her lie and let it drop. A part of her begged him to dig deeper. "I'm just tired."

He narrowed his eyes at her and moved closer, but never too close. She could always count on him to care even when he didn't want to. It was in his nature. He would never push, but he would never let it drop so easily either. She licked her lips quickly, her eyes darting around the room. A crime scene tech was still snapping photos but otherwise, the office was empty. No doubt the rest of the agents had enough drama for the day.

"You sure?" Now he sounded like he cared.

"Yeah, I was just thinking about things. You know, the meaning of life and the like," she said with an attempt at a smile. It came out as more of a grimace.

"Pretty heavy stuff for a Tuesday night," he remarked, trying to lift the mood. She finally managed to force a smile, desperate to change the subject now.

"How are you doing?" She paused, unsure if her meaning was clear. "I mean, with the whole, you know."

His addiction and recovery. He knew what she was digging for. "Quite well, actually. All my houseplants are still thriving. And Mr. Tom-Tom is alive and kicking serious feline ass, so as good as can be expected." Sam smiled at the reference to Mr. Tom-Tom, Martin's overweight, 12-year-old marmalade cat. Martin had adopted him from the local SPCA when he moved to New York, hoping for some company. Mr. Tom-Tom had fit right in. She had been surprised when he had told her that one night. The last few months had made Sam realize how little she and Martin really talked anymore.

"That's good," Sam mused quietly to herself, trying to smile. Martin tossed her jacket into her lap.

"Come on. We're going for a drink. Something's obviously bugging you."

She gazed at him in surprise for a few moments before standing and putting on her coat. He lingered for a while, looking at her much the same way as he had 3 years ago when he had told her there was nothing worse than a beautiful woman drinking alone. Biting her lip, she tried to hold back a small smile as she followed him out of the office. As they waited in silence for the elevator, she slipped her hand into his, gently, afraid that he would pull away like she had so many times in the past. He merely smiled down at her and gave it a squeeze before letting go. It wasn't overly romantic and certainly didn't hold any promises, but it was all she needed for now.

End.