|Fanfic » TV Shows » Without A Trace » Splinters |
|By Brittany "Thespis" Frederick |
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Splinters
Author: Brittany "Thespis" Frederick
Rating: PG
Summary: Post-ep for "Pilot." Martin in the hospital. 155 words.
Spoilers: Pilot
Disclaimer: Without A Trace is not mine. It's the property of CBS and its production company and creators and so forth. However, this fic and all original content in it IS mine, and if you wish to repost it, please let me know at AgentThespis@msn.com, and I'll gladly let you. I also want to thank the phenomenal team at WTA, especially the delightful Eric Close, for a show that got me hooked from day one. Special thanks to Kiefer Sutherland, who will be awesome in Phone Booth, although this fic quite diverges from the trailer that was its inspiration.
Danny was talking to the doctor.
Maybe he should apologize.
Martin sat on the edge of the hospital bed, his head still throbbing despite the pain meds. Nothing serious, but a couple of stitches; he could feel the blood matting his hair. He'd need a long shower tonight. No serious damage, but it still smarted. He knew why. It was an ego bruise, not a physical one.
Jack's last words, rough and disapproving: "Make sure he gets his head checked."
He'd almost gotten Maggie Cartwright killed, or so the story went. He'd acted on intuition and gotten clubbed for it. Martin knew this was going to cost him.
It had been better his way. Maybe Jack hadn't been properly briefed. He wasn't a stick-to-your-guns-and-general-orders type, not in the slightest; he was going to lay himself on the line. It was his job. His nature.
Danny was talking to the doctor.
He wasn't going to apologize.
Splinters
Author: Brittany "Thespis" Frederick
Rating: PG
Summary: Post-ep for "Pilot." Martin in the hospital. 155 words.
Spoilers: Pilot
Disclaimer: Without A Trace is not mine. It's the property of CBS and its production company and creators and so forth. However, this fic and all original content in it IS mine, and if you wish to repost it, please let me know at AgentThespis@msn.com, and I'll gladly let you. I also want to thank the phenomenal team at WTA, especially the delightful Eric Close, for a show that got me hooked from day one. Special thanks to Kiefer Sutherland, who will be awesome in Phone Booth, although this fic quite diverges from the trailer that was its inspiration.
Danny was talking to the doctor.
Maybe he should apologize.
Martin sat on the edge of the hospital bed, his head still throbbing despite the pain meds. Nothing serious, but a couple of stitches; he could feel the blood matting his hair. He'd need a long shower tonight. No serious damage, but it still smarted. He knew why. It was an ego bruise, not a physical one.
Jack's last words, rough and disapproving: "Make sure he gets his head checked."
He'd almost gotten Maggie Cartwright killed, or so the story went. He'd acted on intuition and gotten clubbed for it. Martin knew this was going to cost him.
It had been better his way. Maybe Jack hadn't been properly briefed. He wasn't a stick-to-your-guns-and-general-orders type, not in the slightest; he was going to lay himself on the line. It was his job. His nature.
Danny was talking to the doctor.
He wasn't going to apologize.