Stepping Up – chapter 4
A/N: The action – part 2
"He's going to what?!?" Jack roared at Danny.
Danny looked to Elena and Vivian for support, "He's going in, Jack. No gun. Just him and a vest." Martin was safely tucked on the other side of the building, closer to the restaurant's entrance. And, he had elected Danny to intercept Jack and the rest of the team from stopping Martin's grand plan.
"Well, he's either the bravest man I know or the stupidest," Vivian muttered.
"I vote for brave," Elena said.
"I vote for stupid," Jack glowered.
"So am I the tie breaker?" Danny asked. He quickly held up his hands, "Just kidding, Jack! How about we call it the bravest stupid trick he's pulled lately?"
"How about you get us over to where we can actually see what's going on and help out if we can," Jack countered.
"Follow me," Danny threaded his way though the police cars, SWAT team members, other assorted NYPD personnel and finally to the command post just in time to watch Martin enter the restaurant.
---------------------------------//---------------------------------//--------------------------------
There was a tinkling of a bell as the door opened. "Don't come any closer or I'll shoot her!"
Martin moved into his line of vision, his hands raised, "Hey, James, is it? My name's Martin and I just want to talk. I don't even have a gun," he turned a 360 so James could see he was telling the truth.
"You're FBI?" James whispered, "I am in such serious shit."
"Well, maybe I can help with that," Martin moved a bit closer and finally shifted his sight to Samantha. He could see her brow shine with sweat and that she had one hand under her very round belly. "How are you, Sam?"
"I've been better," she panted, "Remember what they told us in class last week about stress and early labor?"
"Yeah," Martin was puzzled for just a few seconds, then panic set in, "You're in labor?" As much as he wanted to go over to her, the little detail of James holding a gun held him in place. That, and he knew both his team and the NYPD were listening via the tiny microphone pinned to his tie and the receiver in his ear. 'Get details,' someone whispered in his ear. "Um, how long?"
Samantha glanced at the clock on the wall, "Almost an hour now. But I think more importantly, I think you're just the agent to help out James, Martin."
James looked from his hostage to the FBI guy, the disbelief clear on his face, "You know each other?"
"James, I'd like to introduce you to Martin Fitzgerald of the FBI, my boyfriend…and co-worker," Samantha had a good read on James now and knew he'd take the news in stride and would appreciate the small interjection of humor.
"Co-worker?" James nearly dropped the gun, "You're shitting me."
Martin wished she hadn't spilled that little detail, but trusted her to know what she was doing. "No shitting, James. She even started before I did in our unit." There was another whisper in his ear, 'Find out what he wants and get the two of you the hell out of there!' This time, Martin recognized the voice as Jack's. "So, James, what's your story?"
---------------------------------//---------------------------------//--------------------------------
Samantha nodded at James, "It seems that the Army didn't take too kindly to James asking for paternity leave and slapped him with an AWOL tag once they figured he'd left. A couple of MP's were coming to arrest him in the hospital this morning."
Martin nodded slowly, "You asked your CO for the time?"
James nodded, "But the bastard said my place was with the unit and my wife be damned."
"What did his CO say?" Martin only hoped James followed the chain of command or he was out of luck.
"Unavailable for anyone under Commander rank. So I left. Shelly's the best thing that happened to me since my folks were killed," James swiped under his nose, oblivious to the fact that it was the same hand that was holding the gun. "She's an orphan too, so she and me and the baby—we're all each other has. I had to be with her!"
"Are you in a combat unit?" Martin asked.
James shook his head, "No, I'm at Fort Drum. I'm part of the Mountain Rescue Squad."
Martin's take on James was that he was a young man with choices forced upon him; choices that his early-20's mind only understood in black or white. Choices that made him reach for a gun when he should have reached for a telephone. Martin opened his mouth to offer a suggestion when a sharp gasp of pain interrupted him. "Sam?" She was pale, her eyes closed and one hand held the top of her belly.
'That's not normal labor pain, Martin. Get her to tell you what it felt like—quickly,' this time the voice was Vivian's.
Ignoring the gun James still held, Martin came right up to her and put his hand on her face, "Sam, what happened?"
"I dunno," she whispered, "like something tearing." She opened her eyes to meet his, the tears falling down her cheeks, "Hurts."
"I know, sweetheart," Martin whispered back, wiping her tears with his thumb. He tilted his head as new instructions came into his ear.
'Get her to lie down on her back, keeping her knees up,' Vivian's voice instructed. 'The paramedics are here and they say that should ease the pain until we can get her out.'
Martin nodded, forgetting she couldn't see into the restaurant, "James? How about we let Samantha lie down? I don't think this position's good for her. James?" Martin tore his gaze from Sam's face to look at her captor. He had gone as pale as Samantha and from the looks of it, was on the verge of fainting. "James!" Martin said sharply, "Sit down and put your head between your knees. I can only deal with one medical emergency at a time!" Seeing James follow his instructions, Martin helped Samantha off the tall chair and onto the floor. "Keep your knees up, Sam. It should help."
She did as he told her and gave him a puzzled look. How did he know what would help?
Martin nodded his head to the door and tapped his ear, "Better?"
Sam nodded and understood that they were listening outside. Had she been thinking clearer, she could have figured that one out on her own. She blamed it on being pregnant and a hostage. "How's James?"
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" James wept into his hands, the gun at his feet. "I'm such a screw-up!"
Martin quietly handed the gun to Samantha and laid a hand on the young man's shoulder, "No, James, you're not a screw-up. You're a father who only wanted the best for his child and his wife. There's nothing wrong with that. Your CO was wrong not to give you leave. I'll wager a week's pay that there's more to his story other than being a jerk about giving you time off. I'm going to have to arrest you for the hostage situation, but I have a friend who works at the Pentagon in DC and I'll see what we can do about the AWOL charges."
"Why would you do that for me?" James asked as Martin cuffed him.
He nodded to Samantha on the floor, "I'm about to be a father too, and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for Sam or our baby," he gave James a wry grin as an NYPD officer took him by the arm, "I came in here without a gun, didn't I?"
"Fatherhood makes us do crazy things, huh, Martin?" James asked.
"That it does, James. I'll have my friend get in touch with you in a day or two. His name's Alex Wells and if he can't help you, he'll know who can. Good luck," Martin turned back to Sam and knelt at her side, "How's the pain now, Sam?"
"Not so intense," she sighed and closed her eyes. She let her mind wander to the fact that once again, she was a hostage, on the floor and in pain. Well, at least the bad guy—not that James was really that bad—was leaving first, and in handcuffs.
