Alright, I figured it would be prudent to go ahead and thank my unofficial beta, protegee's partner in crime who helps me with plot and gives good suggestions, pretty much whatever I need. This particular Martin/Sam doesn't exactly go along with the series, but I was thinking about what would have happened if they'd been together before she got shot…not exactly the same situation, but similar fall out. Enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated
"Goddamn it, Samantha!"
Martin brought his fist crashing onto the coffee table of his living room.
They had been over this before, the day she accepted the job, but she had never seen him like this. Never.
"Sam…I don't like this. I don't like this at all."
"What am I supposed to do, Martin? Just turn down the job?"
"Yes!"
"No! What? And let these sons of bitches get away with this? NO! Don't push me, Martin, not with this," she had warned.
"Sam…"
"Look, I know you don't want me to do this, and I don't blame you, I'm not so hot on it myself. But if going under cover is going to get these women out of danger, then it's more than a fair trade."
"I just…I just don't want you to get hurt."
This evening's argument had gone in much the same direction, but Martin was in way worse shape. He hadn't said anything about it, but now that they had collected the evidence, readied her back round, figured out all they could about the drug cartel and Walker's sex trafficking. Fifteen women had already been found dead, stuffed down gutters, thrown into ditches, and that's just what had been found. The number of bodies were expected to exceed a hundred…he hadn't said anything.
But now, he didn't look like he had slept at all. She cursed herself for not making sure he had gone to sleep. Every night since then, he had wrapped his arms around her, filling the air with his calm, reassuring smell…she had fallen asleep so easily. What a fool she was.
"Sam…" It was the same voice he had used before, but now the look in his eyes was that of pure desperation. His reddened eyes met hers as he reached out and touched the side of her face. He swallowed hard.
"Martin-"
But as soon as she had uttered his name, he was gone, disappearing into their bedroom. She heard him turn on the water in the bathroom. Not knowing what to do or say, just like always, it seemed, with Martin, she leaned back and allowed the light to wane, finally leaving her in semi-darkness.
She didn't know how long she sat there until she realized that the water had never been turned off- one of those strange phenomena when one notices that the back round noise shouldn't be back round noise at all.
"Martin?" she called into the darkness.
No response.
Her breath quickened immediately as the instinct she so frequently relied upon told her something awful was happening. She leaped from the sofa and ran so quickly, she banged her arm on the doorframe, muttering a curse, she wrenched open the door.
He was standing right under the nozzle and leaning into the wall, the powerful jet of water crashing onto his strained neck, tumbling over his broad shoulders, across his pronounced abs, down along his legs, falling slowly into the drain that swallowed it all.
"Oh god, Martin…"
He looked up at her as she walked closer to him, too afraid to say anything, and terrified to leave him alone.
She opened the door and steam blew out of the shower.
"Don't do this," she whispered, reaching out to him. He gently took her hand and turned it over, palm up. It was the arm she hand banged running into the bathroom, and the center of her forearm was already becoming a deep purple.
"I can't…" His voice was so small, so tired, so painfully pleading. "I can't see you hurt…and losing you, Sam…"
He brought her arm to his lips and he kissed the spot. "I can't…"
She didn't say anything. Every single word that came to mind stuck in her throat.
"Don't you understand?"
The water-matted head turned up, and Martin's eyes gazed into hers. "Sam, I-"
He broke off, let out a frustrated grunt and pulled her into the shower, catching her lips in a rough kiss, trying to pour everything into those few moments, everything he ever told her, and everything he wanted to.
She gasped as the hot water quickly soaked her clothes through, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around his neck, reciprocating, needing him as much as he needed her.
When she finally had to break the kiss to breathe, he unbuttoned her blouse, pushing it down her shoulders. She crushed her lips to his again, guiding his hands to her pants button, which he quickly undid. Together, the pulled her pants and her underwear off.
He finally rid her of her bra and let his lips trail from her jaw…to her neck…She inhaled sharply as he took her nipple into his mouth, her hands flying to his hair, moving through it.
"Sam…" he murmured, and her legs naturally curved around his waist, positioning herself just above his erection.
"It's okay, Martin," she whispered.
Then the words were over, feeling him slide into her filling her so completely, she called out his name, throwing her head back.
His tongue worked its way around her nipple once, then twice, making her moan into the water falling down over her first and then onto him. He began kneading the other breast, letting his tongue taste the left, filling himself with her essence, trying to memorize her every line.
"Ohh…Martin…"
Her hands found the side of his face, and pulled it up to gaze into his eyes, those deep, dark eyes of his that never failed to entrance her. They were so pleading…it hurt. It hurt her seeing him like this. She couldn't stand that look in his eyes, so she kissed him again, opening her mouth against his, sighing and gasping and moaning into it as thrust into her again and again and again.
With a final push, hitting her G-spot, she cried his name, tightening around him, and pulling him over the edge with her.
After she could see clearly, they slid down the wall of the shower, Martin's back pressed into the wall and hers leaning into his chest, his arms clasped tight around her, so afraid she would slip away at any moment.
Martin pressed his face into the side of hers and breathed in. Gently stroking his hair, she asked, "What is it?"
"I love you, Sam…You know that, don't you? You have to know that."
She reached up and cut off the water at last.
"I know, Marty," she whispered, "I know."