For Disclaimers etc. please go to the Prologue.

CHAPTER 2:

7:00 a.m. MPU

Martin set his briefcase on his desk and rubbed his hand carefully over his face. The bruising on the left side was readily noticeable to all. He set down his second 20 oz cup of coffee and flicked on his computer. He stared at it as it booted up and lost himself in thought. In all he had read about two dozen cards; some were canned sympathy cards, Hallmark at their supposed best most, however, were handwritten notes. The cards came from people that his father and mother worked and or associated with. They all spoke of a happy couple who loved each other, worked together, were passionate in their focus whether it was work, the arts, charities, golf and whatever. They all said the same thing, his father was proud of him. Martin shook his head bitterly. His father wasn't proud of him, he was disappointed in him. That was what he had seen in his father's eyes, heard in his tone and more to the point, heard come from his father's mouth the last time they had spoken.

"Martin, you've disappointed me. I'm ashamed" And with that, his father had turned and walked away never looking back. A few days later Martin had received the call. His parents were dead; killed in a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler on a Virginia road. Apparently they had been headed to a weekend away at a ritzy bed-n-breakfast in horse country. His mother was passionate about antiquing and his father enjoyed the history that Virginia was famous for, and they had planned this getaway.

The next week had been a blur as Martin went through the mechanics of arranging a funeral, calling hours, meeting with the police and the medical examiner. The bodies had been horribly damaged. All the safety features, and tank-like build of a Mercedes had done nothing to lesson the impact of a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler. The bodies were identified through dental records, jewelry, and internal examination. Martin's father had had his appendix out and had several crowns that were readily identifiable. His mother had had a hysterectomy a few years earlier so the absence of those organs, her jewelry and dental records were enough to provide conclusive results. Still, DNA sampling was done and rushed through the lab; this was after all the Deputy Director of the FBI and his wife. All results were absolute: Victor and Jean Fitzgerald were dead.

No alcohol or medications or any suspicious substances were found in their blood and tox screens. There were no witnesses to the accident except for the driver of the truck. He survived, as most drivers of these rigs did in such an accident. Yes, the truck had jackknifed on the road, but other than that and some bruising from his seatbelt restraint, and the emotional damage of having been in the accident and somewhat of a causative factor in the death of two people, the driver was uninjured.

He had been returning from a normal delivery with an empty rig. He was driving the allowable speed on the state road, he had not been drinking, no drug use, his logs were up to date, he wasn't over his allowable hours on the road. For all intents and purposes, his record was clean and safe. He stated he had come over the little rise in the road and was met with the glare of oncoming headlights. He had nowhere to go and did the only thing he could do; he hit the brakes. Skid marks confirmed his story; the computer printout from the truck's operating system verified his speed. He was issued no ticket at the scene and was not charged with any vehicular infraction. He had come to the calling hours quietly, spoke briefly and sadly to Martin, the men had shaken hands and he had left. Noah Shook was shaken by his part in all this sorrow, but he was not to blame and Martin did not blame him.

Jack, Elena, Danny, Sam, Vivian and Marcus had all come to the calling hours. None were surprised at the number of people that lined up to pay their respects. The Fitzgeralds were well known in many circles in Washington and across the country. Martin was well thought of as well. Some of his colleagues from Seattle had flown across the country to be there, more for the son than for the parents. This had moved Martin and his New York team deeply.

The funeral was a very private affair; family only. That was how Victor had wanted it and Martin was grateful. He really hated to be on display and didn't want to go through the pomp and circumstance of a formal and large service. He should have known better, for all his father's love of the spotlight and attention to propriety, he was a deeply private person and, Victor had had specific requirements for the calling hours, a certain funeral home, cremation with the urns tastefully surrounded by photos and flowers, interment spots already reserved with plaques preselected, only needing the dates filled in, he also had been specific in that the actual service be only family. Martin was only too grateful to comply. He didn't want or have anyone special to be there with him. It was him, his Uncle Roger and two cousins and second cousin. Martin thought that would be the way he wanted it. Instead, he found it lonely and cold. He didn't shed a single tear. In fact, he didn't remember the service at all. There was no eulogy, his father hadn't wanted one. Martin hadn't any words to share. He was caught up in his own tangle of emotions of sorrow, anger, loss, and confusion.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Martin jumped at the softly spoken words at his side. So lost in his own reflections he hadn't noticed Sam's arrival. He turned towards her and saw the deep concern in her eyes. She gently reached up and brushed her fingers feather light to his bruised cheek. He flinched slightly but she kept her fingers light on his cheek.

"Vivian called me last night. I…she assured me that you were all right and that it was best to leave you alone, but I…I knew you'd be in early so…" Sam stopped and dipped her head slightly away from Martin. She was uncomfortable being open but over the past year almost two since their break up, his shooting, their recovering and strengthening of their friendship she had become a bit more confident in her ability to reach out to her friends. "I came in early to see for myself." She finished and squarely looked Martin in the eyes, taking in the dark circles, those not made by bruises, the redness of his eyes from lack of sleep and, she suspected, something more, sorrow.

"I'm a little sore." Martin's voice was a little better than it had been the night before but it was raspy.

Sam flicked her eyes to his neck and noticed that she couldn't see any indication of the attack but that was because instead of his normal crisp shirt and tie, he wore a high necked sweater under his jacket, a little casual for Martin who always turned out in a sharp suit, but certainly appropriate enough for the day at work which Vivian had made clear that all of them were to ensure was short. She figured Martin had tried the usual shirt and tie but had found it too constricting. She noticed a little gaping of the neck of the sweater at his throat and figured he had marred it a bit pulling it away from his skin. She didn't blame him one bit.

"Yeah, well, not surprising; I'm not going to ask you to go through it all right now because you know Danny and Elena are going to want to hear everything, and I don't want you to strain your voice." Sam didn't want him to have to go through it any more times than truly necessary but realized Martin would be uncomfortable with that sentiment so she chickened out a little and gave his physical discomfort as the reason. If he noticed her dissembling any, he didn't give any indication.

Nodding his thanks he turned as he heard rapid footsteps coming into the bullpen. Danny and Elena arrived together and were making a beeline straight for him with Vivian right behind. It was obvious that Vivian had notified everyone of the previous evening's attack and everyone wanted to see for themselves that Martin was really all right.

"Hey, pal, what's going on at your digs, not the safe place I've always imagined?" Danny's attempt at a little levity fell flat but no one cared. Martin managed a slight grin at the usual energy displayed by his partner.

Martin was about to answer when Jack knocked on the end of his desk.

"Martin, I briefed Van Doren on last night. She's pushed our 8:00 o'clock to now. Let's go."

Grateful for the release from the concern he alternately craved to embrace and cringed from; Martin stood up and followed Jack to the elevator. The remaining four agents watched them go and then three of them turned to Vivian.

"All right, Vivie," Danny said, "Give it to us again."

Nodding, Vivian set her purse and gun in her desk drawer and began to speak as the other three grabbed seats at the table in the center of the room.

Jack carefully evaluated Martin as they rode in the elevator up to Van Doren's office. He noted without criticism the dark high necked sweater and secretly approved. For once Fitzgerald was letting his usual stoicism down a bit and Jack thought that slight give on Martin's part would allow him and the rest of the team to heal the sorrow over time.

Stepping off the elevator as the doors opened the two men strode down the hallway to Paula Van Doren's office. The death of Victor Fitzgerald may be a private matter for Martin, however, the death of the Deputy Director of the FBI was a very public matter for the Bureau, and Van Doren needed to meet with Martin and discuss the latest findings of the investigation.

Jack already knew the findings; Van Doren had briefed him the afternoon before. He figured that although Martin was well-connected he wasn't aware of these latest findings. Jack did not look forward to this meeting. Martin had been through enough this last

week plus and after last nights attack, he looked thorough exhausted.

"Jack, Martin, please sit down."

Paula Van Doren was a woman who had risen high in a man's field and although she had deep concern for those who worked under her, she liked to keep the personal side out of the office without exception but sometimes exceptions happened. Martin was a subordinate; his father had been a superior. Now, with the father – easier for her to think of him as the deputy director, was dead, it was up to her to tell the son that it hadn't been the accident that it initially had been ruled as.

"First of all, how are you? Jack told me what happened. Are you all right?" Van Doren knew how to ask all the right questions and was a bit surprised to realize that she actually was concerned with the answer.

"I'm fine, thank you. A little sore, that's all. Jack said you have an update on the investigation. I thought it was closed."

"Well, not exactly; there have been some unpleasant developments."

Jack felt Martin tense slightly beside him and knew the next words were not going to be pleasant.

"The Virginia Crime Lab, along with the FBI Trace Evidence lab managed to examine the body of the car in great detail. It took quite a bit of time with…all the damage." She stopped for a moment as she remembered seeing the pictures of the crumpled metal, the images of the Mercedes prior to the accident and then after were shocking. A head-on collision was never pretty. At least Victor and Jean's deaths had been instantaneous.

"Once the lab was able to thoroughly examine the exterior of the car they noticed paint transfer on the side, specifically on the passenger side of the vehicle. The transfers were new. An officer checked with the garage that serviced the car as your father had had it in only a week prior for an oil change and detailing. There was no evidence of any damage to the exterior of the car. Also, the transfers were not oxidized, nor were they contaminated by any road debris or filled with any debris that would have suggested they were there prior to the accident."

"I don't understand," Van Doren had to lean forward a bit to hear Martin's words as his injured throat didn't allow him to speak very loud. "The driver of the truck said he didn't see another car. There wasn't any evidence to say that another car had been on the road."

"Not until now. The paint transfer is dark; the conditions that night were dark. It was a state road but in an area without any lights, there was no moon. If another car was there and it was dark and had been running without headlights, the truck driver wouldn't have seen it."

The office was silent as Van Doren and Jack sat quietly letting Martin absorb this information.

"You're saying that it's possible they were murdered?"

"I'm saying that the case has been reopened and labeled as a homicide, yes. The Virginia State Police are looking for the driver to question him further and forensic teams are combing the accident site and the roadway again to see if there is something they missed. Although, it's been many days now…" She let the sentence hang as she watched Martin nod his head almost automatically. After a few moments she nodded to Jack. They had decided that this next part would be best taken coming from him.

"Martin, this is going to hit the news today and due to the nature and the profile of your parents, it's going to be big news. Stuff like this – well, you know how it brings out the crazies of the world."

Martin turned slightly and looked at Jack and then back at Van Doren.

"So, what are you saying? You want to pull me off the job, stick me someplace? What?"

"Nothing like that, Martin; we do, however, want you to run any emails, phone calls, letters, packages, anything that looks slightly out of the ordinary by Meredith." Jack mentioned the name of the woman who headed up the New York office threat assessment team. This group monitored threats to agents and to public officials and high profile New Yorkers.

"I appreciate that and I know it's an order," Martin countered quickly as he saw Van Doren about to speak, "but, I'd like to keep this as quiet as possible at least in the office. I really don't want any more of an appearance of special treatment…" Martin let the sentence trail off. The truth was that he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted other than some return to normalcy. He grimaced inwardly remembering those were exactly the words he had spoken to Danny about 12 hours previous.

"That's why Meredith will be handling this personally. She won't farm it out to her team, and she will report directly to Jack, who will report anything of concern to me. Anything she says to Jack, she'll say to you, fair?"

Martin nodded. He just wanted to get out of this office and back – he couldn't say back to work as he knew Jack and the others were going to gang up on him and force him to the doctor and then home for another day off. He'd had enough of days off. Time off just meant time to think, and he didn't want to do that either.

"Okay. With that settled, go back to work. Martin, all information on the investigation in Virginia comes to me, and I'll brief you as I hear anything, understand?"

Again, Martin nodded then he stood up and headed out of her office, Jack paused for a moment to exchange a glance with his senior before following.

TBC…