An End to Pain
Disclaimer #1: I don't own WAT, if I did, I probably wouldn't have the time to write!
Disclaimer #2: I do not hold a medical license and do not claim to know how different medications really interact with each other!
Warning #1: Characters act out of their norm but isn't that why Fan Fiction was invented in the first place???
Warning #2: Character death
Warning #3: Mild Language use
Thanks as always to Tey, who reads everything, then slugs me for it!
Setting: Post "Primed" (5.14)
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Samantha sat behind the wheel of the car. She knew she needed to head back to the city, but she couldn't make herself start the car. She kept seeing the same scene over and over—her own face half-buried in the leaves and foliage. A knock at the window startled her out of her reverie.
"Special Agent Spade? Everything all right?"
She nodded to the state trooper, not trusting her voice and turned the key. How she managed to get back to the FBI building without causing an accident, she wasn't sure, but she did. Stepping off the elevator, she walked down the hall and watched Martin pull Abby Horton's picture from the DOD board and erase her name and case number. Why this case affected her so, she wasn't sure. She still couldn't get the image of her own dead face from her mind.
Martin turned to put the file away and saw Sam standing there, frozen in place. He quickly covered the room and reached a hand out to her, "Hey, you ok?"
"What? Oh, yeah, I just…" Sam let her voice trail off.
He gave her a concerned look, "Was it bad?"
She nodded and leaned forward, placing her forehead on his shoulder. She wasn't ready to cry for the young artist, but needed the solid presence Martin provided.
Martin patted her back gently, "I'm sorry, Sam." He steered her towards his desk so he could grab his jacket, "Come on, let's get out of here."
Without resisting, Samantha let him lead her from the building. She let him drive her home and tuck her into bed. She looked up at him forlornly, "Don't go."
"Are you sure?" he looked surprised.
She patted the bed beside her, "Please?" She asked quietly.
Martin smiled, "Let me go turn off those lights, and I'll be right back."
True to his word, he was back in less than three minutes. Martin quickly shed his outer layer of clothing and slipped into bed beside her. She snuggled up to him, and he let out a yelp, "Sam! Your feet are freezing!"
"Sorry, it was cold out by that trestle."
"Yeah, I don't doubt it. Let me see if I can warm you up a bit," he let his mouth do other things than forming speech and did his best to warm her.
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Three days later, the team was catching up on paperwork. Never a fun task, but government agencies being what they are, there is never an escape nor end. Well, temporary escapes were always possible, and Samantha was taking one of those temporary escapes on the balcony. She let the wind whip her hair and tried to let it take her troubles away as well. Samantha had been very quiet the past three days. She spent most of the time lost in her own thoughts and had to be dragged into conversations and discussions about work. Foremost on her mind was the fact that she and Martin had fallen back into their relationship full tilt. Precautions be damned and neither of them cared if anyone found out either. But other darker thoughts occupied her time as well. How they fit into the 'happy couple' picture was one of her chief worries.
Samantha was sure that Martin saw their openness as progress in their relationship, but she wasn't so sure. Was she just using him to keep the images at bay? True, their sex life was fantastic, but that was never the problem. Staring off towards the Hudson, Samantha had a flash—she saw her water-soaked body being pulled from the river. Was that happening right now? Was some poor soul being fished from some horrible fate? Could she see it if she were taller—if she could see over the next building?
"Martin!" Vivian screamed his name without tearing her eyes from the window.
His head whipped at her scream, "Sam? Holy shit!" He bolted for the door and grabbed Samantha off the balcony's ledge and didn't stop until they were both on the floor. "What the hell were you thinking?!?" He was angry and scared.
She lay in his arms, unable to answer. Did she know what she was thinking when she climbed up there? If she did, she sure as hell couldn't articulate it to Martin. Why had she been on that ledge? Was she losing her mind? If she were, would she even know it? Tears began to slip down her cheeks.
"That's it, Sam. I'm taking you up to Dr. Harris," Martin stood and picked her up. She was light in his arms.
Sam continued to cry softly as Danny held the balcony door and Vivian held an elevator open for them.
Elena or Jack must have called ahead, because as soon as Martin stepped off onto the twenty-seventh floor, Lisa Harris was there waiting. She gestured to her office.
Martin set Samantha carefully onto the sofa and handed her the box of tissues that he spied on a table. He kissed the top of her head, "Call me when you need me, ok?"
When, not if, but when—Samantha nodded as his words registered.
Dr. Harris gestured to Martin to step outside for a moment. Once the door closed she asked the all-important question, "Tell me what happened."
Martin summed up the past few days ending with the balcony incident. "I don't know what's going on in her head, and I don't think she does either." He looked her in the eyes, "Can you help her?"
"Whatever happens will be up to her, but I'll do my best," Dr. Harris glanced back at her office, then gave Martin a measured look, "I'll call you when she's ready to leave."
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Three months later, Samantha was still seeing Dr. Harris on an every other day basis. She had been placed on medical leave and was restricted to the gym, Lisa's office, and, as long as she didn't try to work, her own floor to visit her co-workers occasionally. Samantha tried to workout every day—something to kill the time and exhaust her physically so she could sleep. Her personal care was out the window and anyone who knew her immediately knew upon looking at her that something was wrong.
Martin was the only constant positive presence in her life. He waited on her hand and foot. Anything she thought she might want, he would have it ready. The anti-depressants Lisa had prescribed gave her headaches, which made her irritable, but Martin didn't care. He told her, many times, that he wanted to help her like she helped him and to quit apologizing for her behavior. He said it was the illness talking, not her. Martin insisted that all he wanted to do was to help her find the woman he fell in love with. He personally escorted her to each of her sessions with Lisa—Jack having the sense not to put him on any cases that took him too far out of the office or for too long when they did.
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"So, Samantha, how are you feeling today?" Dr. Harris looked her patient over, noting the still unkempt hair, dark circles under her eyes, the significant weight loss and something new—a flush to her patient's cheeks.
Samantha shrugged, "Same. I guess."
Dr. Harris decided to push her a little today, "Anything new since our last session? Something's different."
"Well, I can't seem to keep anything down but dry toast, if that's what you mean." Samantha hugged her stomach.
"Why do you think that is?"
Rolling her eyes, Samantha whipped out an answer, "I hate it when you do that!"
"Do what?" Lisa knew exactly what she meant, but wanted to hear today's take on the matter.
"You know! That psychoanalysis shit! It bugs me to no end." Samantha stood and started to pace—or she would have if a wave of dizziness hadn't gripped her. She reached out for something to stop her from falling but came up with empty air. She lost consciousness and hit the floor with a thud.
Dr. Harris saw Samantha close her eyes and wondered where she was going with her tirade this time. It wasn't until she started to fall that Dr. Harris realized something was physically wrong. She tried to reach Samantha before she fell, but wasn't quick enough. Lisa quickly checked her pulse and felt it racing. She tried to bring Samantha around for several minutes before calling for an ambulance. Once she knew help was on the way she made one more phone call.
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Martin met up with Dr. Harris in the waiting room at St. Luke's Hospital, "Any news yet?"
Lisa shook her head, "Nothing since I last called. She's conscious but they won't tell me anything more. They're running every test in the book, so, we should know something soon."
Martin would have asked more, but noticed a doctor approaching.
"Dr. Harris? If you could come with me please?" a young doctor with a long unkempt French braid motioned to a quieter hallway.
Lisa indicated for Martin to come too. When the doctor looked at him questioningly, Lisa answered, "This is Martin Fitzgerald, Samantha's husband." Ok, it was a little white lie. But for all intents and purposes, they were married, and had been since this nightmare started. All they lacked was an official piece of paper. Martin raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing.
"Oh, good." She extended a hand, "I'm Dr. Laurie Tesler. I've been looking after Samantha since Dr. Harris brought her in."
Martin returned the handshake, "What's wrong with her?"
Dr. Tesler blew out air before beginning, "Dr. Harris told me that your wife is one of her patients and that she's been taking Wellbutrin for depression." She saw Martin nod and continued, "Well, that drug interacts with other medications in different ways. With the birth control your wife is on, the Wellbutrin completely counteracts the contraceptive and there really isn't anything wrong with Samantha except that she's pregnant."
"Pregnant?" Martin felt his knees go weak. "How…how long?"
"About six weeks, give or take. She'll know more once she sees her OB-GYN. If you don't have any other questions, I'll get her release papers." Dr. Tesler looked through her notes.
Lisa had one last question, "Why did she faint?"
"Oh, that. Well, she admitted that since she can't keep anything down, it's been almost two days since she's eaten anything of substance." She turned to Martin, "You've got to get her to eat, ok? Anything she wants—within reason of course. I'm going to give her a prescription for an anti-nausea that she can safely take." She gave them both a smile and pointed to a door, "She's in there. I'll be along shortly with the paperwork."
Dr. Harris put a hand on Martin's arm, "I'll let you talk to her first. And just to let you know, I'm going to have to take her off the anti-depressant. It isn't designed for a developing fetus."
He nodded and headed for the door. He knocked then poked his head in, "Hey. How are you feeling?"
"Silly." Samantha motioned for him to come closer. "I'm glad you're here though." She lowered her head and whispered, "I'm sorry."
Martin lifted her chin so she'd look at him, "Why? I'm not." He kissed her gently, "This is the best gift you could ever give me—that we could give each other."
"But now?" She let the tears fall, "I'm a mess. Lisa's probably going to have to take me off the anti-depressant and I'll be even a bigger mess. Don't you know how crazy pregnant women are? And I'm crazier on top of that! I'll be a complete mess!"
He kissed her again, "But you're my mess and I love you."
Samantha whispered back, "I love you too."
"It'll be all right. You'll see—everything will be all right." He held her tight.
She didn't say anything, what could she say to that? The strange thoughts that had been running around in her head for the past three months flew to the surface and she wondered if she'd survive the pregnancy. Martin was right about one thing; this was the best gift she could give him for all he'd done for her. For him, she'd see it though.
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Five months after her trip to the emergency room, Samantha was having a session with Lisa when she felt a huge kick. She held the spot and gasped.
"Something wrong, Samantha?" Dr. Harris looked worried.
She shook her head, "No, it's just getting cramped in there and that baby likes room to move. I just wish it wouldn't use my kidneys to make more room."
Dr. Harris wondered what else was going on in her patient's head. She could see there was something still bothering her that had nothing to do with the pregnancy. In the past eight months, Samantha had yet to articulate what it was that triggered the flashes of her own death or what prompted her to climb onto that balcony railing.
Lisa had noticed that Samantha didn't give the baby a gender and decided to focus on that for a moment. "Hey, Samantha? Do you and Martin know the sex of the baby?"
"No, Martin wants it to be a surprise. We've got names picked out though." Samantha rubbed her protruding stomach again.
"Well, don't keep me in suspense! Unless," Lisa paused, "unless you don't want anyone to know."
"No, it's not that." Samantha pulled in a deep breath. "Martin had some funny ideas about names. He thought that if it's a boy he should be Martin Junior and for a girl, Sammy. But I didn't agree."
"So what did you decide on, then?"
"Lucas for a boy and Eileen for a girl."
There was a sadness in Samantha's voice that worried Lisa. She put her hand over Samantha's, "What's wrong? Those are good names. I like them."
"I don't know. It's probably nothing, just pre-motherhood nerves." Samantha deftly steered her doctor away from what was truly bothering her.
"Let's talk about that, shall we?"
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The next week, Dr. Lisa Harris felt a sense of relief. Samantha looked and acted calmer than she had been in nearly a year. There was a lingering sadness around her eyes, but she held herself with a confidence that Lisa, and others who knew Samantha, feared would never return. "So, how are you feeling today, Samantha," Lisa started the session with her classic line.
Samantha giggled, "Don't you have any better lines? I'm fine. I feel good."
"Would you like to tell me what happened this weekend?" Dr. Harris smiled at her giggle. It had been too long since she had heard Samantha laugh.
"Nothing special. I just had a good weekend. I slept well. I didn't throw up. Danny came over and helped Martin put the crib together. Then we picked up Elena and the four of us went to the movies and out to dinner. Nothing special." Samantha smiled at a memory.
"What's making you smile?" Lisa needed to hear the positives.
Samantha smile grew, "Danny and Martin—two very intelligent men who can't follow directions to save their lives. It took them three tries to get that crib together!"
Lisa laughed herself, "With lots of swearing, I'm sure!"
"Yep!" Samantha laughed once more.
Dr. Harris cautiously admitted to herself that perhaps this was the turning point. They would still need to work on finding the root cause of Samantha's depression, but that could happen later. Perhaps now, Samantha could concentrate on being a happy wife, mother and individual.
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Two months later Samantha called Martin one early afternoon, "I think you'd better come get me. Somebody wants to be known to the world!"
"Sam? The baby? Now? I, uh…" Martin fluttered around his desk, knocking over his coffee and spilling papers onto the floor.
Danny reached over and plucked the phone from his hand, "Sam? I'll bring Martin in a jiff, I don't really trust him to drive you or my godchild right now."
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In the waiting room on the maternity floor, Danny paced. He had driven Sam and Martin to the hospital and observed a very calm Samantha directing a very nervous Martin through the steps they had rehearsed at least a dozen times. That Samantha was calm and Martin nervous made Danny laugh. It was too often the reverse. He glanced at his watch again; they had gone into the delivery room only an hour ago. He wondered how much longer it would take. He knew Elena, Vivian, Jack and Lisa were anxiously waiting back at the office for his call. He was about to look at his watch again when Martin—well, floated would be the best description—into the room.
"Danny, I'm a dad! It's a girl! She's beautiful!" He beamed.
Danny grabbed him and thumped him on the back, "That's great, man! How's Sam?"
"Wonderful! She was so calm through the whole thing. It was almost spooky, Danny. She didn't get scared once. Not even when…"
Danny held up his hand, "Whoa, hold it right there. You're about to mention icky birth-related details that I'm sure I don't want to hear and Sam wouldn't want you to tell me. Let's just agree that she was brave and calm and let's leave it at that!"
Martin grinned, "Sure. Not a problem. Want to come see them?"
"You have to ask twice?"
Martin led Danny down the hall and into a private room. Samantha was asleep with one hand resting on the edge of the basinet. The two men tiptoed to the edge of the bed and peered into the basinet.
"You're right, Martin," Danny whispered, "She is beautiful."
"Me or the baby?" Samantha questioned, not bothering to open her eyes.
Martin leaned down and kissed her, "Both of you."
Samantha opened her eyes, "Good answer." She looked to Danny, "Your opinion?"
Danny grinned, "The baby, definitely the baby."
She gave him a look that could peel paint, "Cute. You're very cute. Now, could you two leave us alone? We've had a hard day and we're tired."
Martin kissed her again, "Of course. I'll come back in a couple of hours?"
Samantha looked at the clock, "Martin, it's nearly nine o'clock at night now, why don't you just come back first thing in the morning? We're going to sleep, nothing more. This will be your last chance to have a good night's sleep in a long time. Go home and take advantage of the quiet. Danny, make him see reason."
There was something else in her face, something she didn't want him to know. It seemed to Martin that Samantha was determined to keep him away from her for a while and he didn't know why. Maybe she wanted time with the baby. He wasn't sure and couldn't shake the nagging feeling something awful was going to happen. But he gave in nevertheless, "Sure, Sam. Whatever you want." He leaned in once more, "Thank you for our daughter." He nodded to the baby and kissed her. As he pulled back he whispered, "I love you, Samantha Spade Fitzgerald. Don't forget that."
Danny kissed her on her forehead, "She's beautiful, Sam. Thanks for making me a godfather." He turned to Martin, "Come on, Fitzy, let us go celebrate your beautiful daughter who will be dating sooner than you know it!"
When they left, Samantha turned to her daughter, "I know you're only two hours old, beautiful, but Mom's got to tell you something really hard to hear." She reached down and picked up the sleeping infant. Samantha brought her close and inhaled her scent. Tears fell down Samantha's cheeks as she began to talk to her daughter, "In every person, there's darkness and light. We named you Eileen because it means 'light' and you're going to need it, sweetheart…"
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The next morning, Martin impatiently tapped his foot while he waited for the elevator to reach the maternity floor. He had gone home like Sam had wanted, but he still couldn't shake the nagging feeling of impending doom that had plagued him the night before. Finally the elevator arrived and he quickly went down the hall to Sam and Eileen's room. When he opened the door, he saw that Sam wasn't in the bed. He saw the bathroom door was closed and guessed she was in there. He went over to the basinet to check on his daughter. She was fast asleep, her small pink mouth working as she dreamt of nursing. He was content to watch her sleep when a stack of envelopes on the nightstand caught his eye. His name was on the topmost one. Martin reached out and grabbed the whole stack. He felt his stomach sink in fear as he thumbed through the stack. There was one for Vivian, Elena, Danny, Jack, Lisa and…his heart clenched…Eileen.
With a trembling hand, he opened his envelope and began to read.
My dearest Martin,
I know you'll be asking yourself 'why' for quite some time and I wish I could give you a good answer. Truth is, there probably isn't one. I've been fighting the darkness all my life. I've been where it was so dark I never thought I'd escape, but I did. I thought I had left the darkness behind forever, but we both know that wasn't the case. If I hadn't gotten pregnant, this probably would have happened sooner. Once we found out I was pregnant, I couldn't take our child with me. I knew he or she had to stay with you.
Please know you did everything right. Martin, you were truly the best thing that ever happened in my life. I have never been as happy as I was with you. I wish that how I felt with you could have overcome the darkness once and for all, but I wasn't strong enough.
Please do not grieve for me too long. I think I'm in a better place. Please do not think that this was in any way your fault—it wasn't. Not ever. Please tell our daughter about the good and the bad things about me—she'll need to know where she gets her temper.
I think I've loved you forever and I will continue to do so, just not here.
Martin, I need to tell you one last thing. It is because of you, because of what you said to me all those months ago in the ER, when we found out I was pregnant, that I kept on living as long as I did. You said this was the best gift I could give you. And it is. It is the only thing I have left to give and I give her to you freely. I only ask that you don't change her name; she needs the light.
Love always,
Samantha
Martin set the letter down and went to the bathroom. He opened the door and saw her lying in the bathtub. She looked peaceful, like she had fallen asleep. He couldn't see at first how she had done it until he went fully into the room. Then he saw the glass and empty pill bottle lying beside her at the bottom of the tub. He went back to his daughter, closing the door, blocking the sight of her dead mother. He didn't really care that she was less than a day old. No one should have to find his or her mother that way. His thoughts turned to Jack briefly. He wondered how Samantha had explained her actions to him.
He sat back down on the bed and thumbed through the stack again. He felt something on the back of Eileen's envelope. He turned it over and saw a sticky note holding the envelope closed. 'Martin- You deserve to read this one too. Please give it to her when you think she's ready. – Sam.'
Once again he opened an envelope with a trembling hand and began to read.
My dearest daughter,
By now you've probably bugged your father enough that he's given you this letter. You must have been wondering how your mom could possibly leave you before she even knows you.
Well, Eileen, I do know you. I know you have your dad's dimples and my blond hair. Right now, your eyes are blue, like your dad's, but who knows if they won't turn brown, like mine. I know you have long toes and fingers like me too. I know you like to sleep and don't like to be woken up. I know you like to be held and comforted and loved. I know your dad's been doing just that all your life.
I can't say I know if you're smart or silly or a fantastic skateboarder. I wish I could have stayed to learn those things. You probably don't have any memories of me even though I have held you and sang (badly) to you. I have nursed you and cuddled you and prayed that you'll be safe and strong and full of light.
I wish I could tell you why I left. I couldn't explain it to your dad either. The best I can tell you is what I told you the day you were born. Everyone is born with darkness and light. In some people, the darkness is stronger than the light. That's how it was with me. In other people, like your dad and 'Uncle' Danny, the light is stronger. Sometimes, the light from others can conquer the darkness in others, but sometimes, it can't.
Eileen, I want you to know that I love you. I have always loved you and continue to love you sweetheart, even though you can't see or hear me.
Now, for some motherly advice. Listen to those who love you. Pay attention to what goes on around you. Never hesitate to act on your instincts. Have trust for those who trust in you. Find something you love and do it well. Find someone you love and be happy.
All my love,
Your mother, Samantha
Martin wiped the tears from his cheeks. He silently promised Sam that Eileen would see the letter when she was ready. He folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. Martin then tucked all the letters into the diaper bag he and Samantha had put together. He knew now why she insisted he help her pack the bag. He slung the bag over a shoulder and picked up his sleeping daughter. She snuggled closer to him, listening to his heartbeat. Then, without a backwards glance, he left the hospital.
Fin.