Secret Santa Gift for empty_marrow
Title: Hollow Hearted
Author: M. Elizabeth Ravensblood
Rating: PG-13 for language and minor sexuality
Pairing: Jack/Samantha
Summary: Afternoons in a sleazy motel are not longer enough for Jack.
Author's Notes: For my delightfully twisted friend, empty_marrow, I present you with major angst that draws it's inspiration from your prompt, the lyrics of Rootless Tree which may be found here. And as you are aware, I still have a Mad Men/Profiler crossover underway for you and the romantic smutfest of Swiss Colony fame that should start appearing in the next few weeks. Hope you like :o)
Many thanks to my amazing beta, Moochie.
Although they had met in secret for some time, today was different. It was the first time Jack hadn't brought Samantha a rose, the romantic gesture felt as hollow as he did. Still panting slightly, he moved off her body and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Reaching for his cigarettes from the cheap motel nightstand, Jack lit one and stared blankly at the ice melting in his glass. Bringing real glasses to drink cheap liquor from and allowing him to bring her roses were the only romantic concessions Samantha permitted and his roses would be left behind in the trashcan. The scent of sex lingered heavily in the air as Jack exhaled and studied the phone on the nightstand blankly.
They had been in every room the sleazy motel offered, but only this one had a red phone. It was the first room they had been in. At one time he would have mentioned it in the hopes his being sentimental would set off some touch of romance in his beloved. Now he merely stared at it blankly as their combined fluids dried on his cock. Taking a sip of cheap scotch, Jack wished the burning sensation in his chest was the alcohol. But it wasn't. It never was the burn of the alcohol. For a few hours he would be allowed to touch Samantha and then she would abandon him as she always did. There were times he wished their game had never taken this turn.
"Oh, the red phone room," Sam sighed dismissively as she let the covers slip down. She would have to leave soon but maybe there would be time for another session before she showered in the faded blue tile shower and pretended the afternoon hadn't happened.
"The red phone room," Jack echoed dully. Turning his head sharply towards her, he mused, "I wonder what would happen if I used the phone to turn myself in."
Moving to kiss his shoulder, she wrapped her hand around his waist and reached for his shaft and replied, "It would keep you from making love to me."
Snuffing his cigarette out in the cheap ashtray, Jack snorted, "Making love?"
"Mmmhmm," she purred and laid back in anticipation.
"We don't make love," Jack snapped and turned around. Grabbing her wrists, Jack held them over Samantha's head and snarled, "There is nothing loving about what we do, Sam. We fuck. Plain and simple. We fuck like a couple of God damned animals and nothing more."
Samantha watched in shock as Jack released her wrists, leapt up and began to dress. For him to call her Sam was never a good sign, but it was the first time he'd ever sworn in front of her. Sitting up she studied him, uncertain of how to respond. Sometimes the tender man who met her in secret was hard to reconcile with the brutal killer who stalked her, today however there was no doubt about who Jack really was. Seeing his sanity fall away both excited and frightened her as she found her tongue at last.
"You're the one who insisted we call it love making," Samantha snapped.
"Yet another of my many mistakes, Sam."
"Speaking of mistakes, you left a shoeprint under a window at the last scene. I had a difficult time concealing it. Watch it or eventually they'll catch you, Jack."
Finishing dressing, Jack shot back, "So what! Sometimes I think a needle in the arm would be better than this slow death you're giving me."
"What do you mean, I'm not-"
Cutting her off, Jack growled, "Yes, you are Sam. Every time we meet here, every time we fuck, it's killing me an inch at a time."
Moving off the bed, she wrapped her arms around Jack and caressed him through his pants, and said, "You like being with me. Don't leave. We have time, we can make love one more time before-"
"Before you wash me off of you and go play FBI agent?" he laughed bitterly.
Sam started to protest, "I don't-"
Turning and grabbing her, Jack snarled angrily, "Fuck you, Samantha! Fuck you and all we've been through! Do honestly think I'm content with these empty meaningless moments?"
His fingers dug into her arms painfully but Samantha made no move to escape. Shaking her head wearily, she said, "Don't do this, Jack. I just can't give you anything more."
"I know that. And that's why I can't do this anymore. I love you so much and you-"
"I what?"
"Hate me."
"I don't-"
Interrupting, Jack said, "Yes, you do. Don't get me wrong, there was a time that was enough. You hated me, but you hated me with passion."
"I don't hate you."
As if he didn't hear her, Jack continued, "But then we slept together and everything changed. You started hating yourself instead of me. Now you feel nothing for me."
"Jack, I-"
Realeasing his hold on her, he turned away and stared for several moments before saying hollowly, "Today would have been our six month anniversary." Turning to her, he offered her a sad but determined look as he murmuerd. "I'm done meeting you at dives like this, fucking and being left alone. I want out of this hell you've put me in."
"Our anniver-" Samantha trailed off. Had they really been meeting for six months?
Moving to the desk, Jack scrawled on a piece of paper and took a key from his keyring and deposited it on top. Meeting her confused look, he explained, "My address, the security code and a key. I'm not going to run, this is your freedom and probably a promotion for you."
"I can't do that," she replied.
"Whatever makes you happy," Jack shrugged. Taking her wrist, he pushed the paper in one hand and the key in the other. Taking a last look at Samantha he told her, "I won't be meeting you here again. Bring the VCTF down on me, don't worry that I'll say anything about our meaningless fucking. I'm hardly proud to have been your sex toy. Good-bye, Samantha."
As he left, Samantha stared unseeingly at the paper and key he'd left as tears filled her eyes. Why did he have to leave her like this? Didn't he understand how much she- Loved him. Yes, God help her she loved him. Couldn't Jack see that she had to keep him at a distance? If she let him in all the way, she would have to- Have to give up her normal life and admit how far from normal she reaaly was. Blinking away her tears, she dressed without showering, she couldn't bear to wash Jack off her today. He would be back. Wouldn't he? Next week he would call her with the room number and she would come to him. He had to call her, Samantha thought anxiously.
On the other side, Jack cast one last look at the motel room door, his eyes filling with tears as he whispered, "I love you."
Samantha crumpled to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself while Jack made his way to his car and left. The paper crumpled in her tighly clenched hand. In her other hand, the key dug painfully into her flesh as she squeezed it. He had to come back, she tried to convince herself as she sobbed his name...
Author: M. Elizabeth Ravensblood
Rating: PG-13 for language and minor sexuality
Pairing: Jack/Samantha
Summary: Afternoons in a sleazy motel are not longer enough for Jack.
Author's Notes: For my delightfully twisted friend, empty_marrow, I present you with major angst that draws it's inspiration from your prompt, the lyrics of Rootless Tree which may be found here. And as you are aware, I still have a Mad Men/Profiler crossover underway for you and the romantic smutfest of Swiss Colony fame that should start appearing in the next few weeks. Hope you like :o)
Many thanks to my amazing beta, Moochie.
Although they had met in secret for some time, today was different. It was the first time Jack hadn't brought Samantha a rose, the romantic gesture felt as hollow as he did. Still panting slightly, he moved off her body and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Reaching for his cigarettes from the cheap motel nightstand, Jack lit one and stared blankly at the ice melting in his glass. Bringing real glasses to drink cheap liquor from and allowing him to bring her roses were the only romantic concessions Samantha permitted and his roses would be left behind in the trashcan. The scent of sex lingered heavily in the air as Jack exhaled and studied the phone on the nightstand blankly.
They had been in every room the sleazy motel offered, but only this one had a red phone. It was the first room they had been in. At one time he would have mentioned it in the hopes his being sentimental would set off some touch of romance in his beloved. Now he merely stared at it blankly as their combined fluids dried on his cock. Taking a sip of cheap scotch, Jack wished the burning sensation in his chest was the alcohol. But it wasn't. It never was the burn of the alcohol. For a few hours he would be allowed to touch Samantha and then she would abandon him as she always did. There were times he wished their game had never taken this turn.
"Oh, the red phone room," Sam sighed dismissively as she let the covers slip down. She would have to leave soon but maybe there would be time for another session before she showered in the faded blue tile shower and pretended the afternoon hadn't happened.
"The red phone room," Jack echoed dully. Turning his head sharply towards her, he mused, "I wonder what would happen if I used the phone to turn myself in."
Moving to kiss his shoulder, she wrapped her hand around his waist and reached for his shaft and replied, "It would keep you from making love to me."
Snuffing his cigarette out in the cheap ashtray, Jack snorted, "Making love?"
"Mmmhmm," she purred and laid back in anticipation.
"We don't make love," Jack snapped and turned around. Grabbing her wrists, Jack held them over Samantha's head and snarled, "There is nothing loving about what we do, Sam. We fuck. Plain and simple. We fuck like a couple of God damned animals and nothing more."
Samantha watched in shock as Jack released her wrists, leapt up and began to dress. For him to call her Sam was never a good sign, but it was the first time he'd ever sworn in front of her. Sitting up she studied him, uncertain of how to respond. Sometimes the tender man who met her in secret was hard to reconcile with the brutal killer who stalked her, today however there was no doubt about who Jack really was. Seeing his sanity fall away both excited and frightened her as she found her tongue at last.
"You're the one who insisted we call it love making," Samantha snapped.
"Yet another of my many mistakes, Sam."
"Speaking of mistakes, you left a shoeprint under a window at the last scene. I had a difficult time concealing it. Watch it or eventually they'll catch you, Jack."
Finishing dressing, Jack shot back, "So what! Sometimes I think a needle in the arm would be better than this slow death you're giving me."
"What do you mean, I'm not-"
Cutting her off, Jack growled, "Yes, you are Sam. Every time we meet here, every time we fuck, it's killing me an inch at a time."
Moving off the bed, she wrapped her arms around Jack and caressed him through his pants, and said, "You like being with me. Don't leave. We have time, we can make love one more time before-"
"Before you wash me off of you and go play FBI agent?" he laughed bitterly.
Sam started to protest, "I don't-"
Turning and grabbing her, Jack snarled angrily, "Fuck you, Samantha! Fuck you and all we've been through! Do honestly think I'm content with these empty meaningless moments?"
His fingers dug into her arms painfully but Samantha made no move to escape. Shaking her head wearily, she said, "Don't do this, Jack. I just can't give you anything more."
"I know that. And that's why I can't do this anymore. I love you so much and you-"
"I what?"
"Hate me."
"I don't-"
Interrupting, Jack said, "Yes, you do. Don't get me wrong, there was a time that was enough. You hated me, but you hated me with passion."
"I don't hate you."
As if he didn't hear her, Jack continued, "But then we slept together and everything changed. You started hating yourself instead of me. Now you feel nothing for me."
"Jack, I-"
Realeasing his hold on her, he turned away and stared for several moments before saying hollowly, "Today would have been our six month anniversary." Turning to her, he offered her a sad but determined look as he murmuerd. "I'm done meeting you at dives like this, fucking and being left alone. I want out of this hell you've put me in."
"Our anniver-" Samantha trailed off. Had they really been meeting for six months?
Moving to the desk, Jack scrawled on a piece of paper and took a key from his keyring and deposited it on top. Meeting her confused look, he explained, "My address, the security code and a key. I'm not going to run, this is your freedom and probably a promotion for you."
"I can't do that," she replied.
"Whatever makes you happy," Jack shrugged. Taking her wrist, he pushed the paper in one hand and the key in the other. Taking a last look at Samantha he told her, "I won't be meeting you here again. Bring the VCTF down on me, don't worry that I'll say anything about our meaningless fucking. I'm hardly proud to have been your sex toy. Good-bye, Samantha."
As he left, Samantha stared unseeingly at the paper and key he'd left as tears filled her eyes. Why did he have to leave her like this? Didn't he understand how much she- Loved him. Yes, God help her she loved him. Couldn't Jack see that she had to keep him at a distance? If she let him in all the way, she would have to- Have to give up her normal life and admit how far from normal she reaaly was. Blinking away her tears, she dressed without showering, she couldn't bear to wash Jack off her today. He would be back. Wouldn't he? Next week he would call her with the room number and she would come to him. He had to call her, Samantha thought anxiously.
On the other side, Jack cast one last look at the motel room door, his eyes filling with tears as he whispered, "I love you."
Samantha crumpled to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself while Jack made his way to his car and left. The paper crumpled in her tighly clenched hand. In her other hand, the key dug painfully into her flesh as she squeezed it. He had to come back, she tried to convince herself as she sobbed his name...