Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, they are all part of the
wonder that is Without a Trace. Also, this is my first fic, so be kind(
It had become comfortable; their tradition of sorts. Once or twice a week, after a hard day at work, they would be the last two at the office together. Jack, Vivian, and Danny would say their goodbyes and head home, leaving them at their desks, backs to each other while they finished their work in silence.
It was often Martin who made the first move; walking over sit on her desk while she pretended not to notice. "Almost ready", she would say while she continued to furiously scribble on various documents. Then she would put down her pen, pause for an instant, and then look at him expectantly.
"Samantha, would you like to get a drink?"
They would always go to the same bar around the corner. It was classy and quiet, and the bartender knew them as the 'regulars'. Sometimes they talked all night long, and other times they spent the hours in relaxed silence. Then they would say goodnight and take separate cabs to their apartments on opposite sides of the city.
In those late nights, they got to know each other. They became more than just associates at work, they became friends. Good friends. They were at ease with each other, and slowly but surely they each started to break their emotional walls down.
But this time was different.
This time Samantha made the first move. She cleaned the stacks of papers and folders on her desk, stood up, pushed her chair in, and walked slowly over to his desk. Martin was turned in his chair, his left arm leaning against his desk. His eyes were blank and he was staring unblinking at the picture in his hand. Samantha knew he had an affecting day. Martin had been quiet and distant ever since finding the young girl, bound and gagged with her ear sliced off. He refused to discuss how it led to the shooting of her captor, and the team had been respectful of his emotional state. Samantha knew there was more to the story, but she hesitated. She didn't want him to push her away. But he had been there when she was hurting. When she was struggling with coming back to work after her shooting, he had taken her out, making her laugh and forget her problems. He persisted when she backed off, and that gesture did not go unnoticed by Samantha. She was eager at this opportunity to repay him for standing with her at her most vulnerable time.
She leaned nonchalantly against his desk, wrapping her arms around her waist as she paused for a moment until he noticed her presence. His expression remained stoic as he glanced in her general direction. She made a few off-hand comments, trying to draw his attention away from the misery of his experiences during the day. She wasn't quite sure how to approach the situation, so she just made the decision to dive right in.
"Look, Martin, do want to go get.."
No sooner had she started the invitation that Martin countered. "I...have to stay and finish up some paperwork, so I don't really think that is going to work out for tonight". He had barely looked at her.
Samantha was caught a bit off guard. She looked at him intently for a few seconds before she looked uncomfortably down at her hands. She smiled quickly at him, making it seem as though his response didn't upset her. Martin avoided her eyes for fear that she would persist. She paused for another instant, and whispered a swift "Okay". She pushed herself off of his desk, tossed her hair over her shoulder, stood up straight, and walked away. She walked over to her own desk, reached over the back of the chair to pick up her jacket, and swung it over her shoulders, heading for the elevator without looking back.
Martin instantly regretted it. He had hurt her, he could see that. The wounded expression had flashed across her dark eyes for only an instant. If he had not known her, he would have easily dismissed it. It was only there for an instant, and was quickly covered by a tight smile. She was too strong to ever let him believe that he had upset her. Samantha Spade was no damsel in distress. He didn't have any paperwork to do; he just thought he wanted to be alone.
He watched her the entire way as she walked toward the elevator. He could not manage to tear his eyes away from her. Martin found himself wishing that she had pushed a little bit harder, wishing that she would have insisted on taking him for a drink. He wanted to watch her absently twirl the ends of her hair around her index finger; he wanted to listen to her talk about nothing, but most of all, he just wanted to be in her presence.
Samantha sighed deeply as she walked away, knowing that yet again she would be going home to an empty apartment. She had realized in that instant how she had come to rely on Martin; how she had subconsciously looked forward to the nights that they would spend together, even if it was only in a booth in the corner of their little tavern. Their friendship had grown immeasurably in those nights, and just being in his presence took her mind away from the horrors of human nature that they were privy to on a daily basis. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anything that she could do about that tonight, so she pushed the DOWN button on the elevator, shoved her hands deep into the pockets on her overcoat, and leaned against the wall as she waited.
The instant he watched Samantha get on the elevator, his heart dropped. He still hoped that she would turn around, flash a mega-watt smile in his direction, and persist until he changed his mind. He wasn't comfortable parting with her on uncertain terms. Their friendship had never permeated their working relationship, other than the subtle ability to know what the other was thinking by a simple expression or body movement. He did not want it to become awkward between them. He wouldn't dare tell her that her mere presence made him want to smile. Working cases with her, throwing around ideas, finally putting the last piece in an impossible puzzle; these were the reasons that he could stomach the work that they did. When he was talking to her, she often distracted him so much that he lost track of what he had been saying. He would always try pretend that he had just remembered something else that he was supposed to be doing, a pathetic attempt to cover for the fact that he was completely enamored by the woman sitting with him. He knew Samantha would never look at him in the same way, especially in light of her intimate relationship with Jack. But what could he say, he like to torture himself that way.
He didn't think he could sleep with the knowledge that she might be upset. Martin was never one to let the sun go down without making amends. He threw the picture down on his already cluttered desk and jumped out of his chair with new energy. He threw his jacket over his forearm and headed toward the elevator. He was going to make a little surprise visit to his favorite Special Agent.
Samantha put the key into the lock on the door of her apartment. She was a little bit confused by Martin's behavior, unsure of why he quickly dismissed her tonight. She leaned her forehead against the door frame and took a deep breath. Alone, she thought. After her injury and all of the time she spent in the hospital, she had realized how hollow her life was. Work was all she had. Work made her who she was. She had no friends outside of the Bureau, barely any family to speak of, and she hadn't had the companionship of a man in longer than she could remember. Jack didn't count. He was already taken. Looking back on that experience, she realized that she deserved better, at least she hoped she did. She wanted more than dinner in the shadows, followed by a torrid romance in a hidden hotel room. They had never even spent an entire night together. She wanted someone to wrap their arms around her and whisper in her ear until she fell asleep. She would never have that with Jack. They never really talked, at least not the way that she could talk to Martin. She had a real connection with him, a deeper connection. They understood each other, and there was a distinct mutual respect. She wouldn't dare tell him that recently she began to get little butterflies in her stomach the instant he would enter the room. She just chalked it up to being lonely, just wanting companionship.
She heard the crash of a pot hitting the floor in the apartment across the hall, and came to the realization that she was still standing in the hallway, key still firmly in the lock. Shaken out of her reverie, Samantha turned the key and pushed the door open with the palm of her hand. She threw her overcoat on the back of a black leather chair, and immediately went to her bedroom for a change of clothes. A worn pair of jeans and white t-shirt did the job perfectly. A microwaveable meal sat in the freezer calling her name, but she couldn't stop thinking about Martin. No, she thought, I'm not letting this bother me. I just need a good sleep, and everything will be fine in the morning. It was then that she heard a knock at the door.
She couldn't imagine who would be here this late at night. She unlocked the latch and opened the door wide, revealing Martin, hands firmly planted in his pockets.
Martin caught his breath at the initial sight of her. He rarely had the chance to see her out of her work cloths, and she was stunning. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, which rested easily over her left shoulder. She was wearing a fitted white shirt and a pair of jeans with holes worn into the knees.
Samantha was taken aback at first. She didn't even realize that Martin knew where she lived. After the initial shock, Samantha forced a smile onto her face and moved aside to let him in. Martin walked quickly past her, taking off his jacket at the same time. He threw it on the arm of the black leather chair next to her own jacket. He made his way into the living room of her apartment and sat down. By this time she had closed and locked the door. She crossed her arms and turned to face him, a questioning look in her eye.
"Hi, how's it going?" he said flippantly, unsure of how to begin his apology. She walked toward him slowly and sat across from him on the other chair. She still hadn't uttered a word since he entered the apartment.
"Look," Martin started, "I just want to say that I was sorry. I didn't mean to be short with you today. I just wanted to make sure that we were...you know, alright".
The last part came out in a rush, and when he was finished, Martin sat back on the couch, crossed his arms, and waited for a response.
Samantha was watching Martin intently as he spoke. He looked down and motioned with his hands extensively as he voiced his concern. She would have smiled if it weren't for the serious nature of the conversation. She thought for a minute before she responded.
"Okay". She finally allowed a smile to spread across her face.
Martin's expression showed only a touch of surprise at how easily she was convinced, but the relief was obvious on his face.
"Good, good, good." Martin said, unsure of how to proceed. He clasped his hands together, offered her a smile, and stood up to leave. "I just wanted to make sure, that's all".
Martin picked up his jacket again and started towards the door. Samantha jumped up from her chair and grabbed his wrist just as he began to unlock the latch.
She stared intently into his eyes for just a second before she spoke.
"Martin, please don't leave tonight. I don't want to be alone"
Please review, I have another chapter ready to go, but I won't post it if people don't like this one. Be honest..
It had become comfortable; their tradition of sorts. Once or twice a week, after a hard day at work, they would be the last two at the office together. Jack, Vivian, and Danny would say their goodbyes and head home, leaving them at their desks, backs to each other while they finished their work in silence.
It was often Martin who made the first move; walking over sit on her desk while she pretended not to notice. "Almost ready", she would say while she continued to furiously scribble on various documents. Then she would put down her pen, pause for an instant, and then look at him expectantly.
"Samantha, would you like to get a drink?"
They would always go to the same bar around the corner. It was classy and quiet, and the bartender knew them as the 'regulars'. Sometimes they talked all night long, and other times they spent the hours in relaxed silence. Then they would say goodnight and take separate cabs to their apartments on opposite sides of the city.
In those late nights, they got to know each other. They became more than just associates at work, they became friends. Good friends. They were at ease with each other, and slowly but surely they each started to break their emotional walls down.
But this time was different.
This time Samantha made the first move. She cleaned the stacks of papers and folders on her desk, stood up, pushed her chair in, and walked slowly over to his desk. Martin was turned in his chair, his left arm leaning against his desk. His eyes were blank and he was staring unblinking at the picture in his hand. Samantha knew he had an affecting day. Martin had been quiet and distant ever since finding the young girl, bound and gagged with her ear sliced off. He refused to discuss how it led to the shooting of her captor, and the team had been respectful of his emotional state. Samantha knew there was more to the story, but she hesitated. She didn't want him to push her away. But he had been there when she was hurting. When she was struggling with coming back to work after her shooting, he had taken her out, making her laugh and forget her problems. He persisted when she backed off, and that gesture did not go unnoticed by Samantha. She was eager at this opportunity to repay him for standing with her at her most vulnerable time.
She leaned nonchalantly against his desk, wrapping her arms around her waist as she paused for a moment until he noticed her presence. His expression remained stoic as he glanced in her general direction. She made a few off-hand comments, trying to draw his attention away from the misery of his experiences during the day. She wasn't quite sure how to approach the situation, so she just made the decision to dive right in.
"Look, Martin, do want to go get.."
No sooner had she started the invitation that Martin countered. "I...have to stay and finish up some paperwork, so I don't really think that is going to work out for tonight". He had barely looked at her.
Samantha was caught a bit off guard. She looked at him intently for a few seconds before she looked uncomfortably down at her hands. She smiled quickly at him, making it seem as though his response didn't upset her. Martin avoided her eyes for fear that she would persist. She paused for another instant, and whispered a swift "Okay". She pushed herself off of his desk, tossed her hair over her shoulder, stood up straight, and walked away. She walked over to her own desk, reached over the back of the chair to pick up her jacket, and swung it over her shoulders, heading for the elevator without looking back.
Martin instantly regretted it. He had hurt her, he could see that. The wounded expression had flashed across her dark eyes for only an instant. If he had not known her, he would have easily dismissed it. It was only there for an instant, and was quickly covered by a tight smile. She was too strong to ever let him believe that he had upset her. Samantha Spade was no damsel in distress. He didn't have any paperwork to do; he just thought he wanted to be alone.
He watched her the entire way as she walked toward the elevator. He could not manage to tear his eyes away from her. Martin found himself wishing that she had pushed a little bit harder, wishing that she would have insisted on taking him for a drink. He wanted to watch her absently twirl the ends of her hair around her index finger; he wanted to listen to her talk about nothing, but most of all, he just wanted to be in her presence.
Samantha sighed deeply as she walked away, knowing that yet again she would be going home to an empty apartment. She had realized in that instant how she had come to rely on Martin; how she had subconsciously looked forward to the nights that they would spend together, even if it was only in a booth in the corner of their little tavern. Their friendship had grown immeasurably in those nights, and just being in his presence took her mind away from the horrors of human nature that they were privy to on a daily basis. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anything that she could do about that tonight, so she pushed the DOWN button on the elevator, shoved her hands deep into the pockets on her overcoat, and leaned against the wall as she waited.
The instant he watched Samantha get on the elevator, his heart dropped. He still hoped that she would turn around, flash a mega-watt smile in his direction, and persist until he changed his mind. He wasn't comfortable parting with her on uncertain terms. Their friendship had never permeated their working relationship, other than the subtle ability to know what the other was thinking by a simple expression or body movement. He did not want it to become awkward between them. He wouldn't dare tell her that her mere presence made him want to smile. Working cases with her, throwing around ideas, finally putting the last piece in an impossible puzzle; these were the reasons that he could stomach the work that they did. When he was talking to her, she often distracted him so much that he lost track of what he had been saying. He would always try pretend that he had just remembered something else that he was supposed to be doing, a pathetic attempt to cover for the fact that he was completely enamored by the woman sitting with him. He knew Samantha would never look at him in the same way, especially in light of her intimate relationship with Jack. But what could he say, he like to torture himself that way.
He didn't think he could sleep with the knowledge that she might be upset. Martin was never one to let the sun go down without making amends. He threw the picture down on his already cluttered desk and jumped out of his chair with new energy. He threw his jacket over his forearm and headed toward the elevator. He was going to make a little surprise visit to his favorite Special Agent.
Samantha put the key into the lock on the door of her apartment. She was a little bit confused by Martin's behavior, unsure of why he quickly dismissed her tonight. She leaned her forehead against the door frame and took a deep breath. Alone, she thought. After her injury and all of the time she spent in the hospital, she had realized how hollow her life was. Work was all she had. Work made her who she was. She had no friends outside of the Bureau, barely any family to speak of, and she hadn't had the companionship of a man in longer than she could remember. Jack didn't count. He was already taken. Looking back on that experience, she realized that she deserved better, at least she hoped she did. She wanted more than dinner in the shadows, followed by a torrid romance in a hidden hotel room. They had never even spent an entire night together. She wanted someone to wrap their arms around her and whisper in her ear until she fell asleep. She would never have that with Jack. They never really talked, at least not the way that she could talk to Martin. She had a real connection with him, a deeper connection. They understood each other, and there was a distinct mutual respect. She wouldn't dare tell him that recently she began to get little butterflies in her stomach the instant he would enter the room. She just chalked it up to being lonely, just wanting companionship.
She heard the crash of a pot hitting the floor in the apartment across the hall, and came to the realization that she was still standing in the hallway, key still firmly in the lock. Shaken out of her reverie, Samantha turned the key and pushed the door open with the palm of her hand. She threw her overcoat on the back of a black leather chair, and immediately went to her bedroom for a change of clothes. A worn pair of jeans and white t-shirt did the job perfectly. A microwaveable meal sat in the freezer calling her name, but she couldn't stop thinking about Martin. No, she thought, I'm not letting this bother me. I just need a good sleep, and everything will be fine in the morning. It was then that she heard a knock at the door.
She couldn't imagine who would be here this late at night. She unlocked the latch and opened the door wide, revealing Martin, hands firmly planted in his pockets.
Martin caught his breath at the initial sight of her. He rarely had the chance to see her out of her work cloths, and she was stunning. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, which rested easily over her left shoulder. She was wearing a fitted white shirt and a pair of jeans with holes worn into the knees.
Samantha was taken aback at first. She didn't even realize that Martin knew where she lived. After the initial shock, Samantha forced a smile onto her face and moved aside to let him in. Martin walked quickly past her, taking off his jacket at the same time. He threw it on the arm of the black leather chair next to her own jacket. He made his way into the living room of her apartment and sat down. By this time she had closed and locked the door. She crossed her arms and turned to face him, a questioning look in her eye.
"Hi, how's it going?" he said flippantly, unsure of how to begin his apology. She walked toward him slowly and sat across from him on the other chair. She still hadn't uttered a word since he entered the apartment.
"Look," Martin started, "I just want to say that I was sorry. I didn't mean to be short with you today. I just wanted to make sure that we were...you know, alright".
The last part came out in a rush, and when he was finished, Martin sat back on the couch, crossed his arms, and waited for a response.
Samantha was watching Martin intently as he spoke. He looked down and motioned with his hands extensively as he voiced his concern. She would have smiled if it weren't for the serious nature of the conversation. She thought for a minute before she responded.
"Okay". She finally allowed a smile to spread across her face.
Martin's expression showed only a touch of surprise at how easily she was convinced, but the relief was obvious on his face.
"Good, good, good." Martin said, unsure of how to proceed. He clasped his hands together, offered her a smile, and stood up to leave. "I just wanted to make sure, that's all".
Martin picked up his jacket again and started towards the door. Samantha jumped up from her chair and grabbed his wrist just as he began to unlock the latch.
She stared intently into his eyes for just a second before she spoke.
"Martin, please don't leave tonight. I don't want to be alone"
Please review, I have another chapter ready to go, but I won't post it if people don't like this one. Be honest..