Well, you all probably want to know what happened with that lone gunman, right? Well, this chapter should answer some of your questions, while raising others. I have to say that this story was one of the ideas that came to me after it was announced that not only was Samantha pregnant, but that it was by "no one you know." I thought the writers would be a tad more responsible in this day and age, but no.

Per my usual, I own nothing but the plot. Enjoy.

Chapter 3

Martin holstered his gun and was about to introduce himself to the other men who helped bring down the man now lying dead in a pool of his own blood. Instead of introducing himself, Martin whirled and began sprinting back toward where he had left Samantha and Danny. Only registering halfway there that Danny had screamed his name.

Danny knelt helplessly next to Samantha. He held her hand in his and tried to keep her calm, "You're going to be fine, Sam. Hang on, ok?"

She shook her head slightly, "Love you, big brother," she whispered. She was dying and she knew it. The gunman hadn't fired for long, but she was right in his sights when he began spraying bullets into the quad. The first bullet had only grazed her arm, but the next three she felt go right into her chest, knocking her backwards off the bench. She probably looked silly, she mused with a detached corner of her mind, with her legs still on the bench they had been sitting on. It was getting harder to breathe and she needed Martin to do something for her. One last request as it were.

"I love you too, Sam," Danny said though his tears, "But you've got to…"

"Danny?" Martin vaulted over the bench and gasped, "Sam, no!" He knelt on her other side, taking her free hand into his own, "Sam?"

Tearing her eyes from Danny, Samantha managed to swing her head towards Martin, "Marty!" she whispered, "C—c—call."

"Who, Sam? Who do you need me to call?" Martin spoke softly, running his free hand in her hair in a vain attempt to calm her.

"Em—call Emily," she managed to get her entire thought out. Freeing her hand from Danny's, she laid it on her stomach, "Give Em th'baby. Her 'n' Andrew. Promise!" Sam let her eyes close, focusing on the small movements she could still feel and grateful that she could.

"You're sure, Sam? Not the father?" Martin continued to stroke her hair and hold her hand tight.

Sam shook her head and with great effort managed to open her eyes, "No, doesn't want him. Em will. Please."

Martin nodded, "Ok, Sam. I promise. I'll call. And Danny and I will make sure nothing happens to him until then." Unabashedly, Martin let the tears roll down his cheeks. He had looked up briefly at Danny and knew he was crying too.

"But," Sam had one more request.

"What, Sammy?" Danny asked. "What else can we do?"

Samantha's hand moved to where her son was kicking, "Not Sam."

Martin gave Danny a puzzled look, but Danny understood her, "I'll tell Emily for you, Sam. Don't worry, I won't let her name him Sam."

She sighed contentedly. Her son would be safe now. He'd have loving parents and two godfathers who would spoil him rotten. Sam didn't want to leave him, but that wasn't an option any more. She looked from Danny to Martin and without realizing it, spoke from her heart, "Did…do."

Sam had whispered so softly Martin had to bend to hear her. "You do what, Sam?" he was puzzled by her statement.

Looking into his eyes, Sam whispered, "Love you."

"I know, Sam. I've always known. I love you too," Martin kissed her lips softly. As he pulled back, he noticed her eyes had closed and on further inspection saw she wasn't breathing, "Sam? Shit!" He quickly gave her two breaths and checked her vital signs.

"What are you doing?" Danny looked dazed and he was swaying slightly were he sat.

Martin looked up at him, his fingers on Sam's throat, "We have to keep her alive, Danny. Without her, he'll die too," he nodded towards her pregnant belly. Martin saw Danny grow pale, "Danny? Are you hit?" Martin feared the worst.

"Hit?" Danny asked, looking down at his own body, "I don't…"

He had turned slightly and Martin could see the blood flowing from a wound in his partner's shoulder. "Hey, Danny. Partner?" Martin tried to gain his attention.

"What?"

"Can you keep Sam's heart going? I've got to breathe for her," Martin spoke with far more calm than he felt. His partner was going into shock and his ex-girlfriend was dying at his knees. "Danny? Can you do that?"

Without saying a word, Danny found the correct spot and using his uninjured arm, began rhythmically pumping on his best friend's chest. "For my godson," he whispered.

Martin nodded, but didn't respond. After several long minutes, he vaguely realized Vivian had taken Danny's place and that Jack tried to take his. Martin kept him off Sam with a jerk of his shoulder and kept breathing for the sake of her unborn child. Martin could hear Elena talking quietly to Danny and he spared a few seconds to look up at Vivian. Her face matched his—wet with tears. Martin had no idea how long he had been breathing for Samantha when a young paramedic took over for him. He moved out of their way and sat heavily on the ground near enough to watch the paramedics load Danny, with Elena in tow, and Samantha into waiting ambulances. With a trembling hand, he pulled Sam's phone from her purse and scrolled though her directory.

Vivian had moved next to Martin and laid an arm around his shoulders. Jack was nearby talking to other agents, both CIA and FBI, as well as a lieutenant from the NYPD. He was near enough to hear Martin's end of the conversation.

"Mrs. Reynolds? Emily? It's Martin Fitzgerald. I work with your sister," Martin had only observed others telling someone their loved ones were fatally wounded, this was the first time he was going to have to say the words himself, and in his nervousness, he was forgetting the fact that he and Emily had met on several occasions—the most recent being a baby shower Elena and Vivian had organized for Sam. "I—I don't know if you've been watching the news?" The whir of the helicopter blades had been unmistakable and omnipresent since the idiot had pulled the trigger. "You have. Um, the agent that was shot, um," he stopped, unsure what to say.

"Tell her to come here with her husband," Vivian whispered to him. "Tell her about their nephew."

Martin nodded, "You and your husband need to come to New York," he stated quietly, "Come to St. Vincent's Hospital to meet your nephew."

Vivian could hear Emily's voice on the other end, "Is my sister dead?"

"Not yet," Martin whispered before he could stop himself, "I mean, it doesn't look good, Em," he had slipped into Samantha's nickname for her without thinking, "I think you and your husband should get here as quickly as possible if you want to say good-bye." Martin listened for a few seconds longer before agreeing to meet them at the hospital and closing the phone. Having done the duty he promised Samantha, Martin let himself lean into Vivian's strong embrace and cried.

So now you know…I've killed off Sam. Sorry. So why don't you tell me what you think of the story so far???