Shattered Illusions - Part 2 - Jack/Samantha Fanfiction
Title: Shattered Illusions
Author: M. Elizabeth Ravensblood
Rating: NC-17, language, violence, sexuality
Warning: Non-Con between Jack/Samantha and very graphic violence
Pairing: Jack/Samantha
Summary: For two years, Sam has been dating Albert Newquay, unaware of his true identity she pines for a man she thinks doesn't really exist. A spurned proposal leads to violence and a romantic evening turns into something dark and ugly. Post Season 3, Jack never showed up and Lucas killed himself.
Author's Notes: This is for my lovely friend moonvoice who had been craving some Jack/Samantha non-con. I tried very hard to write something that has a lot of psychological complexity and that could take the characters to a very dark place without making them unredeemable. The result was a very long and dark tale that is probably my darkest piece to date. The rape in this story is very graphic and as realistic as possible - it is about violence and not about sex. I tried very hard to capture the mixed feelings of love and hate a woman feels when someone she loves betrays her in the worst way possible. Part One
Clutching the tattered gown around her, Samantha sat up and watched as Jack retched violently. When he stopped he was panting breathlessly. He looked over at her, then turned away and threw up again. Jack shuddered with dry heaves after his stomach was emptied. Once more he tried to look at her but couldn't look her directly in the eye as he sat on the floor nearby. Neither moved, uncertain of what to do. Several times he opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.
Finally Jack stood unsteadily and zipped his fly before he stumbled to the small bar in the room. His hand shook as he tried to pour a glass of whiskey. After he got a bit of liquid in the tumbler and a great deal on the bar and the floor, he sat the bottle down. He took a drink and turned around to face Sam. As he looked at her, his hand tightened around the glass until it broke. Jack's gaze never moved from Sam even as the glass shattered.
She didn't know what to do. For that matter, she didn't know what she wanted to do, Samantha thought as she watched shards of crystal fall to the floor from Jack's hand and blood dripped from his palm. What he did was unforgivable. But for a split second she'd had the urge to rush to his side and see how badly hurt he was. She should be happy he was bleeding, she should be hoping the glass severed a major artery, not wanting to tend to his wounds. This wasn't Albert the boyfriend she'd known for two years. This was Jack Of All Trades, the serial killer who'd stalked her for years and tonight her rapist. He didn't deserve her concern. So why had she been tempted for even one second to help him?
Carelessly he wiped his bleeding palm of the front of his shirt and walked to the large walk in closet where he'd gone earlier to get the engagement ring he'd tried to present her with. Samantha felt lost as she tried unsuccessfully to think of what to do. She didn't know what to do or what she wanted to do. Her mind couldn't seem to fixate on any one thought long enough to decide on anything. Sitting still, she watched as Jack walked out of the closet and moved towards her with a gun in his hand.
She was confused when he knelt down, took her hand and pressed the gun into her palm. When she didn't move, he said in flat voice, "The safety's off. Go ahead."
"You want me to shoot you?"
"Would you prefer a knife?"
"A knife."
"A- After what I-" Jack's voice faltered and his face was full of sorrow. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and said, "If you would like to prolong this, you'd be well within your rights."
"Prolong," she echoed. "You're asking me to kill you?"
"Unless you prefer to call the police."
"The police?"
"If you prefer. You needn't worry. I won't put you through a trial and I won't contest the death penalty. I'll confess to all the murders and the- the r-" Jack trailed off and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Rape. I'll tell them what I did to you."
Samantha stared at him in dismay. She wasn't sure which was a greater shock, the brilliant killer offering to go to prison without a fight or offering to let her torture and kill him. Calling the police was the morally right thing to do. Even if Jack hadn't attacked her tonight, he had killed a lot of innocent people. Killing him would be easy to get away with. With evidence of a sexual assault and her connections, she could have the matter buried within hours even if she tortured him first. There was a part of her that wanted to make him hurt for what he did to her and she would be well within her rights. No one would hold it against her if she killed him and people would thank her if she had him arrested. So why couldn't she simply decide and act? Samantha wondered.
She should be plotting his demise or at the very least an unpleasant fate. Instead she found herself fretting over his injured hand that was still bleeding. What was wrong with her? Jack had hurt her. He'd done the single worst thing a man could do to a woman and she was concerned about him. Had she lost her mind? After what he did, he deserved to pay and Jack was offering her the opportunity. So why didn't she want to take advantage of his offer? A single bullet could put an end to the insanity or a single call to Bailey would bring the FBI to the house and she would never have to face Jack or hear his name ever again. Samantha felt his gaze on her as he opened his eyes and looked at her expectantly.
"Have you decided yet?"
"I- I'm not sure."
"Please, Samantha, don't make me wait" Jack pleaded softly. Then confessed, "I'm afraid."
Looking at him with disbelief, she demanded, "Afraid of what?! I can't think you're afraid of prison. What are you afraid of? Having your balls cut off? Death? Is that it? You're afraid to die?"
"No, Samantha. I'm afraid to live," Jack sighed. In a tortured voice he continued, "I'm afraid to draw another breath after what I did to you."
"Jack, I-" she trailed off unsure of what to say.
"If you ever lov-" Jack paused and amended, "If you ever liked me for even a little bit, you'll do this. Call the police and have me sentenced to die. Or better still kill me yourself. Cut me. Hurt me. I'll even tell you how to stretch it out for as long as possible. Just please- I can't- I- Oh God!"
A sob tore from his throat and brought his hands over his face. Sam watched him uncertainly as he wept. Her mind was scattered in a million different conflicting directions. She wanted to hit him and she wanted to shoot him at the same time she wanted to cry and demand to know why as in the back of her mind there was a terrible urge to try and comfort him. Torn in so many directions, all Samantha could do is stare at Jack as he sobbed.
Incoherently he babbled as he cried. Most of it was was unintelligible. The only words she made out were pleas to God and asking himself what he'd done. On one cheek, his tears had a pinkish tinge from his bloodied hand and the thought crossed Samantha's mind that she hoped he wasn't getting glass in his eye. A moment later she was horrified as she realized she'd just worried about him. What the hell was wrong with her? Jack had just hurt her and violated her trust. Bruises covered her arms and wrists, her stomach ached from the violence of his thrusts, and between her legs from one moment to the next she felt anywhere from slight discomfort to raw stabbing pain. She'd said no and Jack had forced her. It was rape, plain and simple. There was no pretending it was a misunderstanding.
She wanted to hate him. Hating him would be the normal reaction, Samantha thought. And she did. Part of her hated Jack more than she ever thought possible. Never before had she despised him so completely or wanted to hurt him as much as she did right now. If hatred were the only emotion she felt, things would be clear cut and she'd know what to do. Instead she only felt lost and confused as other emotions crept in along the edges of her mind. Although she'd questioned her feelings for Albert because she loved Jack, she'd loved Albert. He'd called Albert a lie, but she knew he was merely another facet of Jack. Albert Jackson Newquay or Jack-Of-All-Trades, she'd loved him. Worse, still loved him. It made his hurting her harder to bear and it left her a twisted mess of emotion with no idea of what to do.
Overwhelmed by her warring thoughts and everything that happened, Samantha started to cry. Jack lowered his hands from his eyes as he heard the sound. For a moment he started to reach for her then drew back. The motion made her cry harder because in that moment as much as she wanted to slap his hand away or to pull back, part of her longed to have him take her in his arms and hold her until the pain went away. Wanting comfort from someone who hurt her wasn't normal. Even at the worst moment of her life, she didn't feel or react like other women would
All her life, Sam had felt like she didn't belong, even in a crowd she felt alone. When Jack had come along she felt connected to someone for the first time ever. For so long she'd faked emotions and worn a carefully studied facade to give the illusion of normal. Jack had seen beyond it and wanted what lay beneath. She had clung ot her mask and spurned him because accepting Jack meant admitting she wasn't normal and never would be. It meant accepting the darkness inside her that he saw and embracing it. Samantha had been on the brink of surrendering to temptation when Donald Lucas came along. Once more she'd been alone in her own darkness until Albert had come along and made her feel something once more. The ghost of Jack had whispered in her mind and made her push Albert away. Then Jack revealed his identity and forced himself on her and she felt more alone than ever.
"Why?"
"I- I- I was so angry when I learned there was someone else-" Jack stammered.
The gun slid from her hand as she leaned forward and screamed, "It was you! You were the one I was thinking of you stupid bastard!"
"You told me-"
"I told Albert!"
"That there was another man-"
"Jack," Samantha shot back. "I couldn't marry Albert because of Jack!"
He turned pale. "But Donald Lu-"
"Lucas is dead! When he came along I thought there was no real Jack! I've been in hell because I've been in love with a man I thought didn't exist! I couldn't love Albert properly because I'm so hung up on a man who isn't real!" She gestured at the rose petals as she continued to rage at him, "This was something I'd fantasized a thousand times with Jack! I was thinking of a man who didn't exist when I was fucking you! Then I find out Jack was real all along and you- you-".
"No. God, no. Samantha-"
Her hand drew back and she slapped his face and the sound echoed through the room. "Damn you, Jack! How- how could you-" Wrapping her arms around herself, she sat back and sobbed, "Why? Why couldn't you listen to me? Why? I l- l- loved you! I was so alone. And now- Why?! Why?!"
Jack shook his head and fought to find words. "I- I don't know why. I was hurt when you turned me down. I wanted to make you hurt."
"Well congratu-fucking-lations!" Sam spat angrily through her tears. "Apparently you're as good a rapist as you are a murderer!"
Already pale, he turned a ghostly white and winced at her remark as he agreed sadly, "Apparently."
"This surprises you," she shot back venomously.
"I guess it does," he told her in strangled tone that was almost inaudible. "I always knew I was sick. You have to be to hurt people the way I do. I've always enjoyed hurting people. I- I- I just never thought- I never thought I could hurt you. My Samantha has always- You've always been something sacred to me. I never thought I was capable of-"
"Neither did I."
"But I did it. I did hurt you, Samantha. You tried to tell me and I wouldn't listen. I wouldn't listen and I- I raped you," Jack admitted then burst into tears once more. "I'm so sorry! God I just want to wake up from this nightmare. I love you more than anything and I- You said no but I didn't care- I wanted to hurt you- I'm so sorry. So God damn sorry, Samantha."
"Sorry doesn't change anything," she said coldly.
"No. It doesn't change a thing," Jack agreed and put the gun in her hand once more. "I can't change anything. But I can pay for what I did. Put me down like the worthless dog I am. Kill me, Samantha. Make me pay."
"Jack, I-"
Squaring his jaw, he pushed, "Go on Samantha. Shoot me. I raped you. I killed Tom. Come on, Samantha. Put a bullet in my chest." He took her hand in his injured hand and raised it so the gun was level with his chest. Jack commanded, "Pull the trigger Samantha. Shoot me."
"No!"
"All right," he told her and grabbed the gun from her.
Samantha saw him turning the gun towards himself. On instinct she lunged at him. Unprepared for the attack, he lost his grip on the gun. She wasn't sure why she was stopping him, Jack killing himself would save her making a decision about what to do and end a lot of her pain. But the thought of him dying made her blood turn cold. Her triumph was brief as Jack moved to pick the gun up once more. Throwing herself against him, she scrambled to wrestle the gun away from him. He had a firm grip on the gun and although she had a firm grip on his wrist she couldn't hold him forever. Inspiration struck and she took her other and and squeezed it hard over Jack's hand that held the gun. It fired twice in rapid succession one bullet shattering an ancient vase, another into the wall. Jack struggled harder with her and she kicked him in the shin and squeezed his hand once more. A bullet hit the chandelier and it came crashing to the floor a few feet away.
Samantha managed to get the gun away from him, but Jack wasn't willing to give up and tried to grab it once more. Despite the blood on his palm, she could make out the shine of a few pieces of glass and she pressed her hand hard into his. She felt herself getting cut as she ground the glass deeper into Jack's hand. The pain was sufficient he lost his grasp once more and Samantha held the gun. Staggering, she stood up, flicked the safety on and was about to put it out of harms way when there was a knock at the door. It didn't register with them until the knock became steady pounding and there was shouting outside.
"Sir! Mr. Newquay! Dr. Waters!" a voice called out from the other side of the door.
The sounds had alerted one or more of the servants. She didn't want to risk having one of them call the police. Her instincts screamed to protect Jack and right or wrong, she didn't have time to question them. Moving to the door, she cast a disparaging look at herself before opening it.
"I thought I heard gunshots and then there was a loud crash and- My God! What happened to you?" Albert's butler exclaimed and pushed his way into the room.
"Happened?" Samantha asked with feigned innocence as she held the gun behind her.
"You're hurt, Sir! Shall I call a doctor?" he inquired.
Jack raised his hand and said, "I'm fine, thank you Matthews."
The man looked at him in disbelief, then looked at Sam, then at Jack and once more at Sam and he asked softly, "Do you need me to call the police, miss?"
"Why?"
"You're all bruised and your dress. I heard gunshots. My God what happened to the chandelier!?"
"I shot it down," Samantha told him. "I decided I didn't like it."
Although used to the quirks of the rich, that didn't explain Sam's bruised appearance or the master's injured hand and he protested, "But you're both injured!"
"Ja- er Albert broke a glass and got a minor cut. Why don't you go wash up, darling," Sam suggested when she saw Jack heading for the closet where he undoubtedly had more weapons. She had to keep him from harming himself until she could get rid of Matthews and then- well she didn't know what then, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it, she decided. Jack wavered then walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Once they were alone, Matthews demanded, "Did he hurt you, Dr. Waters?"
"No," she lied and lead him to the door.
"I know he's rich and all, but it's not worth it if he's hitting you."
"Hitting me?"
Sam felt like screaming in frustration. It was kind of Matthews to concern himself, but she had to get him out. God only knew what Jack was up to in the other room. While the bathroom was a better choice than a closet full of weapons, there were plenty of things he could improvise with in there, and he was intent on injuring himself. She wasn't entirely sure of why she cared, she only knew she wanted to stop him from hurting himself. A loud crash from the bathroom, followed by the sound of breaking glass sent her mind into overdrive
"Those bruises. I may not have been in the FBI like you were Dr. Waters, but even I can see they were made by someone grabbing you. We can call the police and-"
"No!" Samantha hissed. While she didn't know what she would do, she knew she didn't want the police involved. Whatever was to be done or decided was between her and Jack and no one else. "There's no reason to call to police. Nothing happened."
"If nothing happened then how did you get those bruises?"
Another crash from the bathroom made her panic and she exclaimed, "Sex!"
"Sex?"
"Um, yeah. It's embarrassing to admit, but we're into the kinky stuff," she said and cast an anxious look at the bathroom door.
"But-"
"What can I say, I like it rough. Now if you'll excuse me, it sounds like Ja- er Albert's up for round two and starting without me," Sam said and pushed Matthews out of the room when she heard more crashes from the bathroom. Sam shut the door before he could protest further. She had to get to Jack.
******************************
Racing to the bathroom door, Samantha tried to open it but it was locked. She knocked and there was no response.
Knocking harder she demanded, "Jack! Open up!"
There was no answer.
Desperately she pulled on the knob once more, then started pounding on the door, "Jack! Let me in!"
"Go away," a muffled voice answered from the other side.
"You let me in there this minute!"
"No!" he replied in a louder voice. "I don't want you to look at me!"
"I thought I got to decide your fate"
"You had your chance! Now it's in my hands!" Jack yelled through the door.
"I want to talk to you. I can't do it through the door. Open up."
"No! I hurt you! I raped you! I don't want to live another second!" Jack replied in a broken voice.
"Jack, please."
When there was no reply, she pressed her ear to the door and heard him sobbing inside. She hated him for hurting her and hated what he'd done, but she realized grimly she didn't want to face the world without him either. Right or wrong, she still loved him. Loving Jack after what he was crazy, but then how emotionally healthy was she to have fallen for a serial killer in the first place? Maybe she could forgive him someday and maybe she never would. Either way, she couldn't let him die.
Hitting the door once more to no avail, she stood back and aimed the gun at the door knob. Flicking the safety off, she took a deep breath and fired. The door remained closed tightly and the bullet was lodged firmly in the door knob. Damn it! Trust Jack's Albert illusion to extend to high quality hardware throughout the house. She didn't want to risk firing into the door and hitting him, she'd hoped to break the knob and get in. Unable to shoot, she put the safety on and place the gun on a table, her mind worked quickly on a plan. Standing in front of the door, Samantha let out a loud scream.
When nothing happened she called out, "Jack! Please help me! Jack!"
Instantly the opened and Jack was in front of her. When he saw she was uninjured he started to close the door once more, but Sam forced her way inside the bathroom. The glass doors to the large walk in shower had been destroyed but had broken into large unwieldy chunks. The mirrors had been smashed but the glass had merely cracked and there were no freed pieces. One of the towel bars had been ripped from the wall undoubtedly to break the glass, Samantha thought. A vase had been smashed and water and roses were spilled across the counter. On the counter near the door was a large shard of glass wrapped in a towel and Jack's sleeves were rolled up. She'd gotten in probably just in time.
"You're gonna have a lot of bad luck," she told him gesturing at the broken mirrors.
"I don't plan to stick around long enough for it to be an issue."
Seeing him eyeballing the glass wrapped in the towel, Samantha grabbed it and flung it through the door into the bedroom.
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips and he murmured softly, "Still resourceful. I'm glad I didn't break you."
Before she could respond, he pushed past her into the bedroom. Samantha saw him heading towards the table with the gun and ran after him while mentally scolding herself for not emptying the bullets out. She had to think of a way to stop him! Jack was next to the settee and he was about to reach for the gun. Slamming her body into his she knocked him to the ground. As he struggled to get to the gun, she tried to make him stay down. Although he was stronger, she had an advantage over him. He was trying to get to his objective without injuring her further and she was willing to hurt him if it would stop him.
Reaching with her non-dominant hand, Samantha scooped up some of the shattered crystal from the chandelier and grabbed Jack's injured hand. Although it hurt as she forced the glass into his palm, she was expecting the stinging cuts and he was not. It stunned him momentarily and she stood up to try and remove the bullets. A moment later Jack was standing up and determined to get a hold of the gun. She had the gun in her hand and he tried to take it from her. The safety clicked off and a bullet shattered the window. Sam forced the trigger again to try and empty the gun. After one shot he realized her game and Jack fought harder, using his uninjured hand to try and pry her fingers from the trigger. His hand slipped and his palm was exposed.
Blindly she grabbed for a small stone obelisk to smash his uninjured hand away. Caught up in moment and the adrenaline rush, Samantha didn't realize she'd grabbed the rose Jack had given her at the start of their evening. Strong and sharp, the stem didn't break as it came down on his hand but pushed through the skin. Samantha didn't realize it had gone all the way through his hand until she felt one of the thorns pricking her other hand and Jack let go of the gun. With out Jack holding it, her finger pulled the trigger once more firing another shot. She dropped the gun in shock as Jack held his hand out and looked at it.
"I didn't know it was possible to stab someone with one of these," Jack muttered in pain.
"I didn't either," she told him as she looked at his bloodied hand. "Where in the hell did you get this from?"
Flinching as he tried to move the flower, he replied, "My private garden."
Apparently human fertilizer made for extra hearty blooms, she thought as she looked at his hand. It hurt to even look at it. A moment later, Jack's knees buckled and he sat in a tumbled heap. She was relieved to see he wasn't reaching for the gun, but they had to do something fast. Blood was trickling down his arm. She hadn't saved him from killing himself so she could murder him with one of his roses. Of all the flukes and all the nights for it to happen, she mentally groaned. Joining him on the floor, she tried to think of what to do. They probably would need a hospital but it wouldn't be easy to explain.
Regret filled her as she looked at his injured hand. "I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to apologize for Samantha," he replied in a dull voice. "I deserve far worse after what I did to you."
"Probably," she agreed. Then she added softly, "But that doesn't mean I want to see you hurt."
"I don't understand. I- I raped you."
Nodding, she sighed, "Yes. And I fucking hate for you it."
"Then why don't you want to-"
"Because I love you!" Samantha screamed at him. Her nerves fraying from the events of the evening, her voice was hysterical as she told him, "I hate you. But I still love you. It makes me hate you for what you did even more. I hate you for taking what I would have happily given you. And I hate how fucking sick I am."
"Samantha, you're not sick. You didn't do anything wrong. I was the one-" Jack paused. "Sorry I was a bit light headed for a second there. I-"
Jack was cut off by the door slamming open and Matthews stepping into the room.
"What the hell is going on?! I heard more gunshots! And don't tell me this is just rough sex!"
"Rough sex?" Jack echoed and cast an inquisitive glance at Sam.
"It was all I could think of," she muttered. "We may have gotten a bit carried away, but we're fine Matthews."
Looking at her in disbelief, he screeched, "Fine? My God look at his hand!"
"Um, yeah that. It's um-" Samantha struggled.
"Stigmata fantasy," Jack mumbled in a woozy voice.
"I don't care what you say it is! Something happened here tonight and I'm calling the police to sort it out."
"No!" Samantha exclaimed as Matthews strode over to the phone beside the bed. "We got a bit wild tonight and I overdid it, but we need a hospital, not the police."
She could see he was wavering. Although he meant well, didn't want the police to get involved. A call to Albert's house would alert Bailey. Given Jack's suicidal mood, she didn't want to risk having him tell her former boss exactly what transpired.. Her eyes never leaving him, she reached for the gun. By her calculations there was at least one and possibly two bullets left depending on if Jack had kept just a full clip or a full clip plus one in the chamber.
"Fine, they can send an ambulance as well, but I'm calling the cops," Matthews insisted.
Gun in hand, she was teetering at the brink. If she killed him, there would be no turning back. The mask Samantha wore would be shattered forever and she would no longer be able to hide from Jack behind it. Her life would be bound to his as surely as if she'd accepted his ring earlier. Shooting Matthews was taking a gamble with her life that she could forgive Jack one day. While Samantha was positive she hated him, the question was did she love Jack enough to kill for him? Her mind wavered and the butler reached for the phone.
As he was about to dial, Samantha leveled the gun at him and called out, "Matthews!"
Quickly calculating where to put the bullet, she squeezed the trigger. His face barely registered shock before he crumpled to the ground. In that moment she was intensely aware of the scent of the expended gun powder and felt a surge of adrenaline. There was no guilt or remorse, she realized with amazement.
"You killed him," Jack murmured in an awed tone behind her.
"He was going to call the police," she replied dazedly turning to him. Jack was standing, the hand with the rose through it resting in his other hand. His eyes were gleaming and his expression was strange. Although he was still bleeding profusely, he seemed to have a renewed energy about him.
Then he said her name in a tone that Samantha would remember for the rest of her life. Reverent and full of admiration, tender and loving, the word seemed to almost snake around her like a caress as he purred, "Samantha."
For a moment time seemed to freeze, then reality came crashing back as he looked ashamed once more and turned away. His pleasure was overshadowed by the earlier events of the evening and it reminded her of what was at stake. They had to act quickly. Jack needed medical attention. While she had hopefully prevented Bailey from getting involved, the hospital would very likely call the police in to investigate. Hopefully they would be content with them answering a few questions but there was a chance they'd insist on coming to the house. That meant getting rid of a body and getting the room to line up forensically with the story she was starting to concoct in her mind. And convincing Jack to go along with it, Samantha amended as she took in his dejected expression.
"Jack," she said softly. When he didn't reply, she shouted, "Jack!"
Not meeting her gaze, he whispered, "What?"
"Look at me!"
Reluctantly he complied, "What is it Saman- Sam."
"Listen to me. I need you to forget about what you did for a few minutes and to help me."
"I can't forget. I'll never-"
Interrupting him, Samantha demanded, "Do you want me to go to jail?"
"Of course not!" Jack exclaimed in horror.
"Then help me out here. We need to get you to a hospital and I could use a few stitches myself," she told him and held her non-dominant hand up. The palm was cut and bleeding from grabbing the broken pieces of glass and grinding them into his injured hand earlier.
"Your poor little hand!"
She came close to laughing as he cried out over her hand. Both of his hands were in far worse shape but a few cuts on one of her hands and he was distressed.
"I'll be fine," she assured him. "But there's a good chance they'll ask us questions at the hospital. We need to make sure our stories line up. Even if they line up they'll probably call the police. Hopefully we can avoid them coming here, but just in case, we need to-"
"Get the forensics to match your story and dispose of the body," Jack supplied. "But I could just confess to Matthews when I confess to-"
"No!"
Samantha suppressed and urge to scream. They didn't have a lot of time to act and Jack's self recriminations however just wouldn't help either of them. She didn't have time to convince him that she needed him and emotionally she didn't think she had it in her after everything that had happened. If telling him she loved him earlier hadn't done the trick, perhaps she needed to try a different tactic.
"I raped you. I deserve to be punished," he protested softly.
Channeling all the anger and hurt she felt from his betrayal, she gave him a look of pure hatred and informed him, "No. You don't deserve an easy punishment like jail. You said you were scared to live another moment? Well too God damn bad, you bastard! You owe me, Jack. And you're going to pay for what you did. You think I'll be satisfied with letting you off as easily as jail or suicide?! Now, I want you to help me clean up. We are going to the hospital and you will give them the story I tell you to, word for fucking word."
Sam hesitated. Jack was taking in everything she said but looked a bit unconvinced. Steeling herself, she moved closer and looked him in the eye. Her gaze never leaving his, she twisted the rose in his hand for emphasis as she told him, "Afterwards, I plan to make you suffer in ways you never even dreamed possible."
He grimaced as she twisted the bloom, but then his expression changed and he looked almost relieved as he nodded in agreement.
"Do you swear you'll do all I've asked and tell the hospital and if need be the police, exactly what I tell you to."
"I promise, Samantha."
"Now help me figure out where to drag Matthews."
"No."
"No?"
"Sorry, it's just not the best way to-"
"I was in the FBI, I think I know how to handle staging a crimescene," she snapped in irritation.
"And I was and still am one of the most successful killers in history."
"You said you would do what I said."
"You asked for help cleaning up," Jack pointed out.
She didn't want to agree with him, but reluctantly she had to admit he was probably correct. "Fine."
"Good. Give me two minutes to dispose of Matthews and then tell me the story you wish us to use so we can make the evidence line up." Jack moved to the body and yelped. "Okay, give me three minutes and a little help."
"What should I do?"
"Turn him slightly so we can see if the bullet went through."
Moving the body, she could see there wasn't a hole in the back of his jacket.
"Good, no blood to clean up. Now open the top drawer of the nightstand and give me the knife that's in there."
Samantha hesitated but complied. Jack took the knife and after a moment of struggle cut the stem down so it only protruded a few inches from his hand.
"I need you to lift him up so I can get my arms under him."
She complied and Jack lifted Matthews, he was unsteady on his feet for a moment then moved purposefully towards the closet. Sam rushed over and opened the door for him. Just as she was about to protest that the closet wasn't a good hiding spot, Jack told her, "The wall in front of me where the shoes are. Reach up for the second row from the top and reach just underneath the box that says Rosenbloom. There's a button underneath, push it."
Samantha complied and gasped as the wall opened up into a hidden room. Jack entered and she followed. Inside were huge stacks of money, weapons lined the walls, and there were drawers lining one wall. She started to move to a drawer when Jack instructed, "On the wall behind us beside the door, there's a keypad. Punch in your wedding date with the four digit year and then push the enter key."
"You hated Tom, why use that date?"
"Samantha you have approximately 60 seconds to comply before the door will close and we will be bathed in a highly concentrated acid."
Obeying him quickly, she grumbled, "Still didn't answer my question."
As she finished three beeps emitted from the key pad and he said, "Because if the VCTF had ever breached this place the last number anyone would think to try would be the worst day of my life. Now, the guns on the wall to your right. I want you to reach up and pull the trigger of the bottom one in the third row."
She hesitated then obeyed. The wall opened partially revealing a square hole in the floor of the opening. Jack fought to get Matthews in the hole. "It leads to a locked refrigeration compartment. I haven't been killing but you never know when you'll need to get rid of a body and need to buy time."
Shaking her head, she watched as Matthews disappeared. Jack told her to pull the trigger on the same gun and the opening closed up. He walked to the keypad and punched in a number and indicated for her to walk out. She was worried about him but they had to address the forensics. Working in tandem as Jack gave her instructions they began to adjust the evidence. The rose petals Jack had thrown up on were flushed down the toilet and new ones scattered on the floor in their place and she cleaned up the broken vase from the bathroom along with the vases. Jack directed her to a guest room where she found a pair of mirrors to replace the one in the bathroom. They left she shower door broken and pulled on the hinges so they could claim that the gunshot to the door knob had created enough vibration combined with faulty workmanship that the doors had fallen loose and broken,
Weak from blood loss, Jack was sweating and breathless as he asked, "So what's our story."
"We were playing a sex game and it got out of hand. Earlier in the evening we enacted a forced sex fantasy which explains any marks on me. You fired the gun to scare me which explains any GSR on your hands.."
"What about the GSR on your hands and this?" Jack inquired holding his hands up.
"I got carried away during our fantasy and accidentally stabbed you. Afterwards you wanted a drink for the pain and I picked up the gun to put it away and accidentally fired it shooting down the chandelier, I thought the safety was on, that explains the GSR on my hands and what happened to the chandelier. It startled you and you broke the glass and my hand got injured while trying to tend to you. What do you think?"
"Not good. But, it'll do."
"Then I'll get changed and-"
"No. If it was consensual and we went for help immediately you wouldn't stop to change. Put my jacket on over your dress and we'll go," Jack told her. Then added, "Unless you've changed your mind and would like to go to the police."
Samantha shook her head and said, "Let's go, I'll drive us."
******************************
Author: M. Elizabeth Ravensblood
Rating: NC-17, language, violence, sexuality
Warning: Non-Con between Jack/Samantha and very graphic violence
Pairing: Jack/Samantha
Summary: For two years, Sam has been dating Albert Newquay, unaware of his true identity she pines for a man she thinks doesn't really exist. A spurned proposal leads to violence and a romantic evening turns into something dark and ugly. Post Season 3, Jack never showed up and Lucas killed himself.
Author's Notes: This is for my lovely friend moonvoice who had been craving some Jack/Samantha non-con. I tried very hard to write something that has a lot of psychological complexity and that could take the characters to a very dark place without making them unredeemable. The result was a very long and dark tale that is probably my darkest piece to date. The rape in this story is very graphic and as realistic as possible - it is about violence and not about sex. I tried very hard to capture the mixed feelings of love and hate a woman feels when someone she loves betrays her in the worst way possible. Part One
Clutching the tattered gown around her, Samantha sat up and watched as Jack retched violently. When he stopped he was panting breathlessly. He looked over at her, then turned away and threw up again. Jack shuddered with dry heaves after his stomach was emptied. Once more he tried to look at her but couldn't look her directly in the eye as he sat on the floor nearby. Neither moved, uncertain of what to do. Several times he opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.
Finally Jack stood unsteadily and zipped his fly before he stumbled to the small bar in the room. His hand shook as he tried to pour a glass of whiskey. After he got a bit of liquid in the tumbler and a great deal on the bar and the floor, he sat the bottle down. He took a drink and turned around to face Sam. As he looked at her, his hand tightened around the glass until it broke. Jack's gaze never moved from Sam even as the glass shattered.
She didn't know what to do. For that matter, she didn't know what she wanted to do, Samantha thought as she watched shards of crystal fall to the floor from Jack's hand and blood dripped from his palm. What he did was unforgivable. But for a split second she'd had the urge to rush to his side and see how badly hurt he was. She should be happy he was bleeding, she should be hoping the glass severed a major artery, not wanting to tend to his wounds. This wasn't Albert the boyfriend she'd known for two years. This was Jack Of All Trades, the serial killer who'd stalked her for years and tonight her rapist. He didn't deserve her concern. So why had she been tempted for even one second to help him?
Carelessly he wiped his bleeding palm of the front of his shirt and walked to the large walk in closet where he'd gone earlier to get the engagement ring he'd tried to present her with. Samantha felt lost as she tried unsuccessfully to think of what to do. She didn't know what to do or what she wanted to do. Her mind couldn't seem to fixate on any one thought long enough to decide on anything. Sitting still, she watched as Jack walked out of the closet and moved towards her with a gun in his hand.
She was confused when he knelt down, took her hand and pressed the gun into her palm. When she didn't move, he said in flat voice, "The safety's off. Go ahead."
"You want me to shoot you?"
"Would you prefer a knife?"
"A knife."
"A- After what I-" Jack's voice faltered and his face was full of sorrow. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and said, "If you would like to prolong this, you'd be well within your rights."
"Prolong," she echoed. "You're asking me to kill you?"
"Unless you prefer to call the police."
"The police?"
"If you prefer. You needn't worry. I won't put you through a trial and I won't contest the death penalty. I'll confess to all the murders and the- the r-" Jack trailed off and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Rape. I'll tell them what I did to you."
Samantha stared at him in dismay. She wasn't sure which was a greater shock, the brilliant killer offering to go to prison without a fight or offering to let her torture and kill him. Calling the police was the morally right thing to do. Even if Jack hadn't attacked her tonight, he had killed a lot of innocent people. Killing him would be easy to get away with. With evidence of a sexual assault and her connections, she could have the matter buried within hours even if she tortured him first. There was a part of her that wanted to make him hurt for what he did to her and she would be well within her rights. No one would hold it against her if she killed him and people would thank her if she had him arrested. So why couldn't she simply decide and act? Samantha wondered.
She should be plotting his demise or at the very least an unpleasant fate. Instead she found herself fretting over his injured hand that was still bleeding. What was wrong with her? Jack had hurt her. He'd done the single worst thing a man could do to a woman and she was concerned about him. Had she lost her mind? After what he did, he deserved to pay and Jack was offering her the opportunity. So why didn't she want to take advantage of his offer? A single bullet could put an end to the insanity or a single call to Bailey would bring the FBI to the house and she would never have to face Jack or hear his name ever again. Samantha felt his gaze on her as he opened his eyes and looked at her expectantly.
"Have you decided yet?"
"I- I'm not sure."
"Please, Samantha, don't make me wait" Jack pleaded softly. Then confessed, "I'm afraid."
Looking at him with disbelief, she demanded, "Afraid of what?! I can't think you're afraid of prison. What are you afraid of? Having your balls cut off? Death? Is that it? You're afraid to die?"
"No, Samantha. I'm afraid to live," Jack sighed. In a tortured voice he continued, "I'm afraid to draw another breath after what I did to you."
"Jack, I-" she trailed off unsure of what to say.
"If you ever lov-" Jack paused and amended, "If you ever liked me for even a little bit, you'll do this. Call the police and have me sentenced to die. Or better still kill me yourself. Cut me. Hurt me. I'll even tell you how to stretch it out for as long as possible. Just please- I can't- I- Oh God!"
A sob tore from his throat and brought his hands over his face. Sam watched him uncertainly as he wept. Her mind was scattered in a million different conflicting directions. She wanted to hit him and she wanted to shoot him at the same time she wanted to cry and demand to know why as in the back of her mind there was a terrible urge to try and comfort him. Torn in so many directions, all Samantha could do is stare at Jack as he sobbed.
Incoherently he babbled as he cried. Most of it was was unintelligible. The only words she made out were pleas to God and asking himself what he'd done. On one cheek, his tears had a pinkish tinge from his bloodied hand and the thought crossed Samantha's mind that she hoped he wasn't getting glass in his eye. A moment later she was horrified as she realized she'd just worried about him. What the hell was wrong with her? Jack had just hurt her and violated her trust. Bruises covered her arms and wrists, her stomach ached from the violence of his thrusts, and between her legs from one moment to the next she felt anywhere from slight discomfort to raw stabbing pain. She'd said no and Jack had forced her. It was rape, plain and simple. There was no pretending it was a misunderstanding.
She wanted to hate him. Hating him would be the normal reaction, Samantha thought. And she did. Part of her hated Jack more than she ever thought possible. Never before had she despised him so completely or wanted to hurt him as much as she did right now. If hatred were the only emotion she felt, things would be clear cut and she'd know what to do. Instead she only felt lost and confused as other emotions crept in along the edges of her mind. Although she'd questioned her feelings for Albert because she loved Jack, she'd loved Albert. He'd called Albert a lie, but she knew he was merely another facet of Jack. Albert Jackson Newquay or Jack-Of-All-Trades, she'd loved him. Worse, still loved him. It made his hurting her harder to bear and it left her a twisted mess of emotion with no idea of what to do.
Overwhelmed by her warring thoughts and everything that happened, Samantha started to cry. Jack lowered his hands from his eyes as he heard the sound. For a moment he started to reach for her then drew back. The motion made her cry harder because in that moment as much as she wanted to slap his hand away or to pull back, part of her longed to have him take her in his arms and hold her until the pain went away. Wanting comfort from someone who hurt her wasn't normal. Even at the worst moment of her life, she didn't feel or react like other women would
All her life, Sam had felt like she didn't belong, even in a crowd she felt alone. When Jack had come along she felt connected to someone for the first time ever. For so long she'd faked emotions and worn a carefully studied facade to give the illusion of normal. Jack had seen beyond it and wanted what lay beneath. She had clung ot her mask and spurned him because accepting Jack meant admitting she wasn't normal and never would be. It meant accepting the darkness inside her that he saw and embracing it. Samantha had been on the brink of surrendering to temptation when Donald Lucas came along. Once more she'd been alone in her own darkness until Albert had come along and made her feel something once more. The ghost of Jack had whispered in her mind and made her push Albert away. Then Jack revealed his identity and forced himself on her and she felt more alone than ever.
"Why?"
"I- I- I was so angry when I learned there was someone else-" Jack stammered.
The gun slid from her hand as she leaned forward and screamed, "It was you! You were the one I was thinking of you stupid bastard!"
"You told me-"
"I told Albert!"
"That there was another man-"
"Jack," Samantha shot back. "I couldn't marry Albert because of Jack!"
He turned pale. "But Donald Lu-"
"Lucas is dead! When he came along I thought there was no real Jack! I've been in hell because I've been in love with a man I thought didn't exist! I couldn't love Albert properly because I'm so hung up on a man who isn't real!" She gestured at the rose petals as she continued to rage at him, "This was something I'd fantasized a thousand times with Jack! I was thinking of a man who didn't exist when I was fucking you! Then I find out Jack was real all along and you- you-".
"No. God, no. Samantha-"
Her hand drew back and she slapped his face and the sound echoed through the room. "Damn you, Jack! How- how could you-" Wrapping her arms around herself, she sat back and sobbed, "Why? Why couldn't you listen to me? Why? I l- l- loved you! I was so alone. And now- Why?! Why?!"
Jack shook his head and fought to find words. "I- I don't know why. I was hurt when you turned me down. I wanted to make you hurt."
"Well congratu-fucking-lations!" Sam spat angrily through her tears. "Apparently you're as good a rapist as you are a murderer!"
Already pale, he turned a ghostly white and winced at her remark as he agreed sadly, "Apparently."
"This surprises you," she shot back venomously.
"I guess it does," he told her in strangled tone that was almost inaudible. "I always knew I was sick. You have to be to hurt people the way I do. I've always enjoyed hurting people. I- I- I just never thought- I never thought I could hurt you. My Samantha has always- You've always been something sacred to me. I never thought I was capable of-"
"Neither did I."
"But I did it. I did hurt you, Samantha. You tried to tell me and I wouldn't listen. I wouldn't listen and I- I raped you," Jack admitted then burst into tears once more. "I'm so sorry! God I just want to wake up from this nightmare. I love you more than anything and I- You said no but I didn't care- I wanted to hurt you- I'm so sorry. So God damn sorry, Samantha."
"Sorry doesn't change anything," she said coldly.
"No. It doesn't change a thing," Jack agreed and put the gun in her hand once more. "I can't change anything. But I can pay for what I did. Put me down like the worthless dog I am. Kill me, Samantha. Make me pay."
"Jack, I-"
Squaring his jaw, he pushed, "Go on Samantha. Shoot me. I raped you. I killed Tom. Come on, Samantha. Put a bullet in my chest." He took her hand in his injured hand and raised it so the gun was level with his chest. Jack commanded, "Pull the trigger Samantha. Shoot me."
"No!"
"All right," he told her and grabbed the gun from her.
Samantha saw him turning the gun towards himself. On instinct she lunged at him. Unprepared for the attack, he lost his grip on the gun. She wasn't sure why she was stopping him, Jack killing himself would save her making a decision about what to do and end a lot of her pain. But the thought of him dying made her blood turn cold. Her triumph was brief as Jack moved to pick the gun up once more. Throwing herself against him, she scrambled to wrestle the gun away from him. He had a firm grip on the gun and although she had a firm grip on his wrist she couldn't hold him forever. Inspiration struck and she took her other and and squeezed it hard over Jack's hand that held the gun. It fired twice in rapid succession one bullet shattering an ancient vase, another into the wall. Jack struggled harder with her and she kicked him in the shin and squeezed his hand once more. A bullet hit the chandelier and it came crashing to the floor a few feet away.
Samantha managed to get the gun away from him, but Jack wasn't willing to give up and tried to grab it once more. Despite the blood on his palm, she could make out the shine of a few pieces of glass and she pressed her hand hard into his. She felt herself getting cut as she ground the glass deeper into Jack's hand. The pain was sufficient he lost his grasp once more and Samantha held the gun. Staggering, she stood up, flicked the safety on and was about to put it out of harms way when there was a knock at the door. It didn't register with them until the knock became steady pounding and there was shouting outside.
"Sir! Mr. Newquay! Dr. Waters!" a voice called out from the other side of the door.
The sounds had alerted one or more of the servants. She didn't want to risk having one of them call the police. Her instincts screamed to protect Jack and right or wrong, she didn't have time to question them. Moving to the door, she cast a disparaging look at herself before opening it.
"I thought I heard gunshots and then there was a loud crash and- My God! What happened to you?" Albert's butler exclaimed and pushed his way into the room.
"Happened?" Samantha asked with feigned innocence as she held the gun behind her.
"You're hurt, Sir! Shall I call a doctor?" he inquired.
Jack raised his hand and said, "I'm fine, thank you Matthews."
The man looked at him in disbelief, then looked at Sam, then at Jack and once more at Sam and he asked softly, "Do you need me to call the police, miss?"
"Why?"
"You're all bruised and your dress. I heard gunshots. My God what happened to the chandelier!?"
"I shot it down," Samantha told him. "I decided I didn't like it."
Although used to the quirks of the rich, that didn't explain Sam's bruised appearance or the master's injured hand and he protested, "But you're both injured!"
"Ja- er Albert broke a glass and got a minor cut. Why don't you go wash up, darling," Sam suggested when she saw Jack heading for the closet where he undoubtedly had more weapons. She had to keep him from harming himself until she could get rid of Matthews and then- well she didn't know what then, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it, she decided. Jack wavered then walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Once they were alone, Matthews demanded, "Did he hurt you, Dr. Waters?"
"No," she lied and lead him to the door.
"I know he's rich and all, but it's not worth it if he's hitting you."
"Hitting me?"
Sam felt like screaming in frustration. It was kind of Matthews to concern himself, but she had to get him out. God only knew what Jack was up to in the other room. While the bathroom was a better choice than a closet full of weapons, there were plenty of things he could improvise with in there, and he was intent on injuring himself. She wasn't entirely sure of why she cared, she only knew she wanted to stop him from hurting himself. A loud crash from the bathroom, followed by the sound of breaking glass sent her mind into overdrive
"Those bruises. I may not have been in the FBI like you were Dr. Waters, but even I can see they were made by someone grabbing you. We can call the police and-"
"No!" Samantha hissed. While she didn't know what she would do, she knew she didn't want the police involved. Whatever was to be done or decided was between her and Jack and no one else. "There's no reason to call to police. Nothing happened."
"If nothing happened then how did you get those bruises?"
Another crash from the bathroom made her panic and she exclaimed, "Sex!"
"Sex?"
"Um, yeah. It's embarrassing to admit, but we're into the kinky stuff," she said and cast an anxious look at the bathroom door.
"But-"
"What can I say, I like it rough. Now if you'll excuse me, it sounds like Ja- er Albert's up for round two and starting without me," Sam said and pushed Matthews out of the room when she heard more crashes from the bathroom. Sam shut the door before he could protest further. She had to get to Jack.
******************************
Racing to the bathroom door, Samantha tried to open it but it was locked. She knocked and there was no response.
Knocking harder she demanded, "Jack! Open up!"
There was no answer.
Desperately she pulled on the knob once more, then started pounding on the door, "Jack! Let me in!"
"Go away," a muffled voice answered from the other side.
"You let me in there this minute!"
"No!" he replied in a louder voice. "I don't want you to look at me!"
"I thought I got to decide your fate"
"You had your chance! Now it's in my hands!" Jack yelled through the door.
"I want to talk to you. I can't do it through the door. Open up."
"No! I hurt you! I raped you! I don't want to live another second!" Jack replied in a broken voice.
"Jack, please."
When there was no reply, she pressed her ear to the door and heard him sobbing inside. She hated him for hurting her and hated what he'd done, but she realized grimly she didn't want to face the world without him either. Right or wrong, she still loved him. Loving Jack after what he was crazy, but then how emotionally healthy was she to have fallen for a serial killer in the first place? Maybe she could forgive him someday and maybe she never would. Either way, she couldn't let him die.
Hitting the door once more to no avail, she stood back and aimed the gun at the door knob. Flicking the safety off, she took a deep breath and fired. The door remained closed tightly and the bullet was lodged firmly in the door knob. Damn it! Trust Jack's Albert illusion to extend to high quality hardware throughout the house. She didn't want to risk firing into the door and hitting him, she'd hoped to break the knob and get in. Unable to shoot, she put the safety on and place the gun on a table, her mind worked quickly on a plan. Standing in front of the door, Samantha let out a loud scream.
When nothing happened she called out, "Jack! Please help me! Jack!"
Instantly the opened and Jack was in front of her. When he saw she was uninjured he started to close the door once more, but Sam forced her way inside the bathroom. The glass doors to the large walk in shower had been destroyed but had broken into large unwieldy chunks. The mirrors had been smashed but the glass had merely cracked and there were no freed pieces. One of the towel bars had been ripped from the wall undoubtedly to break the glass, Samantha thought. A vase had been smashed and water and roses were spilled across the counter. On the counter near the door was a large shard of glass wrapped in a towel and Jack's sleeves were rolled up. She'd gotten in probably just in time.
"You're gonna have a lot of bad luck," she told him gesturing at the broken mirrors.
"I don't plan to stick around long enough for it to be an issue."
Seeing him eyeballing the glass wrapped in the towel, Samantha grabbed it and flung it through the door into the bedroom.
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips and he murmured softly, "Still resourceful. I'm glad I didn't break you."
Before she could respond, he pushed past her into the bedroom. Samantha saw him heading towards the table with the gun and ran after him while mentally scolding herself for not emptying the bullets out. She had to think of a way to stop him! Jack was next to the settee and he was about to reach for the gun. Slamming her body into his she knocked him to the ground. As he struggled to get to the gun, she tried to make him stay down. Although he was stronger, she had an advantage over him. He was trying to get to his objective without injuring her further and she was willing to hurt him if it would stop him.
Reaching with her non-dominant hand, Samantha scooped up some of the shattered crystal from the chandelier and grabbed Jack's injured hand. Although it hurt as she forced the glass into his palm, she was expecting the stinging cuts and he was not. It stunned him momentarily and she stood up to try and remove the bullets. A moment later Jack was standing up and determined to get a hold of the gun. She had the gun in her hand and he tried to take it from her. The safety clicked off and a bullet shattered the window. Sam forced the trigger again to try and empty the gun. After one shot he realized her game and Jack fought harder, using his uninjured hand to try and pry her fingers from the trigger. His hand slipped and his palm was exposed.
Blindly she grabbed for a small stone obelisk to smash his uninjured hand away. Caught up in moment and the adrenaline rush, Samantha didn't realize she'd grabbed the rose Jack had given her at the start of their evening. Strong and sharp, the stem didn't break as it came down on his hand but pushed through the skin. Samantha didn't realize it had gone all the way through his hand until she felt one of the thorns pricking her other hand and Jack let go of the gun. With out Jack holding it, her finger pulled the trigger once more firing another shot. She dropped the gun in shock as Jack held his hand out and looked at it.
"I didn't know it was possible to stab someone with one of these," Jack muttered in pain.
"I didn't either," she told him as she looked at his bloodied hand. "Where in the hell did you get this from?"
Flinching as he tried to move the flower, he replied, "My private garden."
Apparently human fertilizer made for extra hearty blooms, she thought as she looked at his hand. It hurt to even look at it. A moment later, Jack's knees buckled and he sat in a tumbled heap. She was relieved to see he wasn't reaching for the gun, but they had to do something fast. Blood was trickling down his arm. She hadn't saved him from killing himself so she could murder him with one of his roses. Of all the flukes and all the nights for it to happen, she mentally groaned. Joining him on the floor, she tried to think of what to do. They probably would need a hospital but it wouldn't be easy to explain.
Regret filled her as she looked at his injured hand. "I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to apologize for Samantha," he replied in a dull voice. "I deserve far worse after what I did to you."
"Probably," she agreed. Then she added softly, "But that doesn't mean I want to see you hurt."
"I don't understand. I- I raped you."
Nodding, she sighed, "Yes. And I fucking hate for you it."
"Then why don't you want to-"
"Because I love you!" Samantha screamed at him. Her nerves fraying from the events of the evening, her voice was hysterical as she told him, "I hate you. But I still love you. It makes me hate you for what you did even more. I hate you for taking what I would have happily given you. And I hate how fucking sick I am."
"Samantha, you're not sick. You didn't do anything wrong. I was the one-" Jack paused. "Sorry I was a bit light headed for a second there. I-"
Jack was cut off by the door slamming open and Matthews stepping into the room.
"What the hell is going on?! I heard more gunshots! And don't tell me this is just rough sex!"
"Rough sex?" Jack echoed and cast an inquisitive glance at Sam.
"It was all I could think of," she muttered. "We may have gotten a bit carried away, but we're fine Matthews."
Looking at her in disbelief, he screeched, "Fine? My God look at his hand!"
"Um, yeah that. It's um-" Samantha struggled.
"Stigmata fantasy," Jack mumbled in a woozy voice.
"I don't care what you say it is! Something happened here tonight and I'm calling the police to sort it out."
"No!" Samantha exclaimed as Matthews strode over to the phone beside the bed. "We got a bit wild tonight and I overdid it, but we need a hospital, not the police."
She could see he was wavering. Although he meant well, didn't want the police to get involved. A call to Albert's house would alert Bailey. Given Jack's suicidal mood, she didn't want to risk having him tell her former boss exactly what transpired.. Her eyes never leaving him, she reached for the gun. By her calculations there was at least one and possibly two bullets left depending on if Jack had kept just a full clip or a full clip plus one in the chamber.
"Fine, they can send an ambulance as well, but I'm calling the cops," Matthews insisted.
Gun in hand, she was teetering at the brink. If she killed him, there would be no turning back. The mask Samantha wore would be shattered forever and she would no longer be able to hide from Jack behind it. Her life would be bound to his as surely as if she'd accepted his ring earlier. Shooting Matthews was taking a gamble with her life that she could forgive Jack one day. While Samantha was positive she hated him, the question was did she love Jack enough to kill for him? Her mind wavered and the butler reached for the phone.
As he was about to dial, Samantha leveled the gun at him and called out, "Matthews!"
Quickly calculating where to put the bullet, she squeezed the trigger. His face barely registered shock before he crumpled to the ground. In that moment she was intensely aware of the scent of the expended gun powder and felt a surge of adrenaline. There was no guilt or remorse, she realized with amazement.
"You killed him," Jack murmured in an awed tone behind her.
"He was going to call the police," she replied dazedly turning to him. Jack was standing, the hand with the rose through it resting in his other hand. His eyes were gleaming and his expression was strange. Although he was still bleeding profusely, he seemed to have a renewed energy about him.
Then he said her name in a tone that Samantha would remember for the rest of her life. Reverent and full of admiration, tender and loving, the word seemed to almost snake around her like a caress as he purred, "Samantha."
For a moment time seemed to freeze, then reality came crashing back as he looked ashamed once more and turned away. His pleasure was overshadowed by the earlier events of the evening and it reminded her of what was at stake. They had to act quickly. Jack needed medical attention. While she had hopefully prevented Bailey from getting involved, the hospital would very likely call the police in to investigate. Hopefully they would be content with them answering a few questions but there was a chance they'd insist on coming to the house. That meant getting rid of a body and getting the room to line up forensically with the story she was starting to concoct in her mind. And convincing Jack to go along with it, Samantha amended as she took in his dejected expression.
"Jack," she said softly. When he didn't reply, she shouted, "Jack!"
Not meeting her gaze, he whispered, "What?"
"Look at me!"
Reluctantly he complied, "What is it Saman- Sam."
"Listen to me. I need you to forget about what you did for a few minutes and to help me."
"I can't forget. I'll never-"
Interrupting him, Samantha demanded, "Do you want me to go to jail?"
"Of course not!" Jack exclaimed in horror.
"Then help me out here. We need to get you to a hospital and I could use a few stitches myself," she told him and held her non-dominant hand up. The palm was cut and bleeding from grabbing the broken pieces of glass and grinding them into his injured hand earlier.
"Your poor little hand!"
She came close to laughing as he cried out over her hand. Both of his hands were in far worse shape but a few cuts on one of her hands and he was distressed.
"I'll be fine," she assured him. "But there's a good chance they'll ask us questions at the hospital. We need to make sure our stories line up. Even if they line up they'll probably call the police. Hopefully we can avoid them coming here, but just in case, we need to-"
"Get the forensics to match your story and dispose of the body," Jack supplied. "But I could just confess to Matthews when I confess to-"
"No!"
Samantha suppressed and urge to scream. They didn't have a lot of time to act and Jack's self recriminations however just wouldn't help either of them. She didn't have time to convince him that she needed him and emotionally she didn't think she had it in her after everything that had happened. If telling him she loved him earlier hadn't done the trick, perhaps she needed to try a different tactic.
"I raped you. I deserve to be punished," he protested softly.
Channeling all the anger and hurt she felt from his betrayal, she gave him a look of pure hatred and informed him, "No. You don't deserve an easy punishment like jail. You said you were scared to live another moment? Well too God damn bad, you bastard! You owe me, Jack. And you're going to pay for what you did. You think I'll be satisfied with letting you off as easily as jail or suicide?! Now, I want you to help me clean up. We are going to the hospital and you will give them the story I tell you to, word for fucking word."
Sam hesitated. Jack was taking in everything she said but looked a bit unconvinced. Steeling herself, she moved closer and looked him in the eye. Her gaze never leaving his, she twisted the rose in his hand for emphasis as she told him, "Afterwards, I plan to make you suffer in ways you never even dreamed possible."
He grimaced as she twisted the bloom, but then his expression changed and he looked almost relieved as he nodded in agreement.
"Do you swear you'll do all I've asked and tell the hospital and if need be the police, exactly what I tell you to."
"I promise, Samantha."
"Now help me figure out where to drag Matthews."
"No."
"No?"
"Sorry, it's just not the best way to-"
"I was in the FBI, I think I know how to handle staging a crimescene," she snapped in irritation.
"And I was and still am one of the most successful killers in history."
"You said you would do what I said."
"You asked for help cleaning up," Jack pointed out.
She didn't want to agree with him, but reluctantly she had to admit he was probably correct. "Fine."
"Good. Give me two minutes to dispose of Matthews and then tell me the story you wish us to use so we can make the evidence line up." Jack moved to the body and yelped. "Okay, give me three minutes and a little help."
"What should I do?"
"Turn him slightly so we can see if the bullet went through."
Moving the body, she could see there wasn't a hole in the back of his jacket.
"Good, no blood to clean up. Now open the top drawer of the nightstand and give me the knife that's in there."
Samantha hesitated but complied. Jack took the knife and after a moment of struggle cut the stem down so it only protruded a few inches from his hand.
"I need you to lift him up so I can get my arms under him."
She complied and Jack lifted Matthews, he was unsteady on his feet for a moment then moved purposefully towards the closet. Sam rushed over and opened the door for him. Just as she was about to protest that the closet wasn't a good hiding spot, Jack told her, "The wall in front of me where the shoes are. Reach up for the second row from the top and reach just underneath the box that says Rosenbloom. There's a button underneath, push it."
Samantha complied and gasped as the wall opened up into a hidden room. Jack entered and she followed. Inside were huge stacks of money, weapons lined the walls, and there were drawers lining one wall. She started to move to a drawer when Jack instructed, "On the wall behind us beside the door, there's a keypad. Punch in your wedding date with the four digit year and then push the enter key."
"You hated Tom, why use that date?"
"Samantha you have approximately 60 seconds to comply before the door will close and we will be bathed in a highly concentrated acid."
Obeying him quickly, she grumbled, "Still didn't answer my question."
As she finished three beeps emitted from the key pad and he said, "Because if the VCTF had ever breached this place the last number anyone would think to try would be the worst day of my life. Now, the guns on the wall to your right. I want you to reach up and pull the trigger of the bottom one in the third row."
She hesitated then obeyed. The wall opened partially revealing a square hole in the floor of the opening. Jack fought to get Matthews in the hole. "It leads to a locked refrigeration compartment. I haven't been killing but you never know when you'll need to get rid of a body and need to buy time."
Shaking her head, she watched as Matthews disappeared. Jack told her to pull the trigger on the same gun and the opening closed up. He walked to the keypad and punched in a number and indicated for her to walk out. She was worried about him but they had to address the forensics. Working in tandem as Jack gave her instructions they began to adjust the evidence. The rose petals Jack had thrown up on were flushed down the toilet and new ones scattered on the floor in their place and she cleaned up the broken vase from the bathroom along with the vases. Jack directed her to a guest room where she found a pair of mirrors to replace the one in the bathroom. They left she shower door broken and pulled on the hinges so they could claim that the gunshot to the door knob had created enough vibration combined with faulty workmanship that the doors had fallen loose and broken,
Weak from blood loss, Jack was sweating and breathless as he asked, "So what's our story."
"We were playing a sex game and it got out of hand. Earlier in the evening we enacted a forced sex fantasy which explains any marks on me. You fired the gun to scare me which explains any GSR on your hands.."
"What about the GSR on your hands and this?" Jack inquired holding his hands up.
"I got carried away during our fantasy and accidentally stabbed you. Afterwards you wanted a drink for the pain and I picked up the gun to put it away and accidentally fired it shooting down the chandelier, I thought the safety was on, that explains the GSR on my hands and what happened to the chandelier. It startled you and you broke the glass and my hand got injured while trying to tend to you. What do you think?"
"Not good. But, it'll do."
"Then I'll get changed and-"
"No. If it was consensual and we went for help immediately you wouldn't stop to change. Put my jacket on over your dress and we'll go," Jack told her. Then added, "Unless you've changed your mind and would like to go to the police."
Samantha shook her head and said, "Let's go, I'll drive us."
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