Disclaimer: I don't own Without a Trace, any of the characters, storylines, or actors. However I do own my ideas.

Zai: Thanks for the reviews! And Specialfrog - It is after Martin has started rehab.

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When Martin arrived at the bustling New York Airport he felt even more lost to the world. Crowds of people moved past him, all absorbed in their own lives not noticing the lone man standing alone in the massive terminal. A familiar feeling of desperation began to overwhelm Martin as he forced himself over to the indicated line, to check his one small hastily packed bag.

The check-in clerk, a petite woman in her mid-twenties, asked him the standard set of questions, had he left his bag unattended and so forth. Martin automatically answered her queries, outwardly maintaining a neutral mask while inwardly his mixed emotions fought to undo him.

The smiling young woman kindly took his bag and pointed him in the direct of his departure gate. He nodded his thanks and headed off to the designated security check point. Once through the increasingly lengthy security process Martin reached the waiting area.

The plastic bench-chairs were even less comfortable then they looked. Martin shifted awkwardly. After a few moments he rose restlessly to his feet and strode aimlessly over the windowed-wall that looked out onto the vast terminal. Leaning against a railing he watched as planes taxied out to the runway where they picked up speed until the nose lifted up and the air craft lifted off the ground.

Fortunately there were no delays and Martin soon found himself settling into his business class seat. He felt immensely relieved when the short balding man who sat beside him pulled out a thick file of work related papers. Martin was not in the mood to be sitting by some over-friendly chatterbox.

However, he also realized this meant he would be alone, lost in his miserable self-reflection for the thankfully short flight. In a desperate attempt to head off the dismal thoughts Martin closed his eyes and tried to think back to a 'happy moment.' Startlingly the first one that drifted into his mind was only a few months old.

They sat on his sofa together, him and Sam. A bowl of microwave popcorn sat on the coffee table and her head was resting comfortably against him. Sam had insisted on some 'chick-flick' but Martin had not cared. He had missed most of it just watching her, taking in everything about her. The scent of her subtle shampoo, the gentle rising and falling of her chest while she breathed, the silky feeling of her beautifully long blonde hair. He slipped his arm around her, he wanted to hold her forever.

Martin drove the memory away. Reflected on the woman who had broken his heart was never the way to bring one's mind out of misery. His thoughts went back to way he was on this plane in the first place. His father.

He tried to conjure some loving family moment, but every moment he cherished the most seemed to be with his aunt Bonnie's family. He knew there had to have been moments at home, but his father seemed absent or off in the distance of all his childhood memories. Had his father really been there that little?

Distractedly, Martin gazed out the small window and allowed his mind to wander aimlessly as he watched the vast white and blue of the clouds and sky.

As the seatbelt indicator came on Martin could feel the plane tilting into the final descent into Washington. The short flight nearing its end, Martin became fidgety as he knew he would soon be in the hospital with his mother and father. He tried to brace himself for the reality that his father was sick. He could never remember a time when his father had been sick before. His father was always the strong one. He provided for the family while his wife kept the home, and Martin finished off the perfect picture. The sweet smiling child to complete the 'family image.' Through his teenage years Martin had wondered more the once if he had only been brought into existence to complete the family man appearance his farther needed in his line of work.

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"Hey, you've reached Martin. I'm not around right now, but if you leave a message I'll get back to you eventually."

As the tone sounded Sam hung up the phone anxiously. Martin was either not home or ignoring the phone. Not that she should even be phoning him. He had obviously taken off for a reason. She should respect that.

However, it nagged at her that she did not know what was wrong. She briefly considered the possibility that he had relapsed. But she dismissed the thought knowing how hard Martin had worked to be clean. He would not just throw all that away unless something was seriously amiss.

Getting up from her desk, Sam forced herself to not call his cell. If he wants to talk he'll call. She tried to tell herself, although she was quite certain she was nowhere near the first person he would turn to. Not anymore.

Not that she really blamed him. He may have been the one to end their relationship, but she had forced him away until he had finally just given up. She regretted now that everything between them had ended. And now after all these months Sam had come to realize things would never be the same between them again. Outwardly Martin managed to keep up appearances of a friendship. But deep down she could tell they would never be close again.

She had ruined her chance, and she knew that given another chance she was just as likely to do the same. The barriers she had built around her had become so permanent she did not remember what it was like to open herself up to another.

From across the bullpen Vivian beckoned for Sam to join her. Jack had asked them to go to the hospital where Dana Jamieson, their missing person, worked as a night receptionist. Her husband had talked to her over the phone before he headed to bed and she had never arrived home.

Sam grabbed her jacket and headed after Vivian, trying to put her anxiety about Martin out of her mind. She had always managed to bury her feelings while she worked, but her feelings for Martin were beginning to become virtually impossible to set aside. After the ambush, when she had come so close to losing him, thoughts of Martin had occupied much of her time.

Vivian had waited patiently for Sam and together they headed out to the parking lot. Vivian was concerned about Martin as well, but she knew that the younger man could take care of himself. Vivian drove while Sam sat fidgeting in the front passenger seat