Chapter 10:
Monday came and Martin returned to work. Once again he rode the elevator to the 12th floor alone, only this time there was no fear, no pit in his stomach threatening to send him running for the nearest trashcan. This time when the door opened he strode with confidence and vigor down the hall and set his backpack on his desk, fired up his computer and flipped on his desk light.
Thank God there was no one else there to see because he was certain they'd see right through him. He was happy to have returned to work if for no other reason then to keep his mind occupied and hopefully tire out his body and his mind enough that he'd be able to sleep through the night instead of waking every few hours in a cold sweat while sights and sounds flashed inside his head.
He couldn't put all the images together but he did come up with what it all meant, he was remembering. The shooting, the car ride, Danny, Dornvald, all those images had been recorded and locked within his brain and now they were spilling forth. The problem was that not only were the images flashing in his mind but they were vivid, and there were sounds and smells and – and there was pain.
This morning's little wake up had been particularly traumatic wrenching Martin screaming in terror from sleep. He was covered in sweat, shaking and had barely made it to the bathroom before he convulsed over the toilet bowl spilling bile and gagging on the dry heaves as his body physically reacted to the mental images. It had seemed so real.
Shaking with cold and the aftereffects Martin had run a scalding hot shower and tried to steam away the soreness in his body and his mind while simultaneously trying to warm his icy skin. He had been less than successful on all fronts and even now, hours after his early morning awakening, he still felt chilled, and thus it was he still wore his overcoat in the office.
Danny was the next to arrive in the bullpen and he chattered away about his weekend and the demise of New York's baseball teams all the while seemingly oblivious to Martin's quietness and his physical demeanor. Martin for his part simply nodded or interjected an appropriately timed 'really?' all the while huddled in his outer coat scanning emails and praying for warmth.
Behind him he missed Danny's nod of concern that was caught by Sam who gave Martin a close look before heading to the break room. She reappeared carrying a steaming mug with a string hanging out the side, obviously attached to a tea bag, and set it down at Martin's elbow while she perched herself on the side of his desk.
"Hey, you. How about taking your coat off and staying awhile." She smiled in apology at the poor joke but inclined her head to the mug of tea. Leaning in close she whispered, "No one will think anything of it if you aren't feeling well enough to be here."
At that Martin glanced up in surprise. "What do you mean? I feel fine."
"Really, because you look a bit pale and you're positively shivering in that heavy overcoat. I know summer is over but still it's only October, Martin, I mean really, the temperature is 50 this morning, that's not cold by any stretch."
"I – uh – ran out of hot water – well, I mean, there was something wrong with the hot water this morning so I took a cold shower and I'm still chilled that's all." Martin lied without really thinking about it and as he heard himself say the words he knew it sounded like a lie, a bad lie, but he was relieved when Sam gave him a grin, pushed the tea closer to him and then left him alone.
The day wore on and Martin found himself hitting all the right rhythms with the day. He and Danny had been out of the office most of the day re-interviewing witnesses from a case that was a couple of months old but some new leads had developed and they'd both managed to make some connections that lead to additional leads and breathed new life into a cold case. Neither expected the victim to be found alive after all this time but still, closure was closure and sometimes that was the best that could happen in the Missing Person's Unit.
As Martin drove the two of them back to the office he realized that he was tired, physically and mentally. It was a good tired the kind of tired from having put in a hard, productive day at work, there was also a sense of satisfaction.
As he drove down the street keeping pace with the traffic he listened as Danny summarized their findings to Jack on the phone. Seeing the car several lengths ahead turn to yellow he removed his foot without thinking from the gas and gently applied the brakes; obediently the car slowed. As frequently happens in city traffic one person allowing for extra room allows another to take advantage and this time was no different. Martin almost read the other driver's mind knowing full well he was going to swing into the lane in front of him; Martin for his part didn't care and braked harder allowing the blue van to dart in front of him and stop abruptly right at the light.
The explosion of sound and smell and adrenaline and pain hit Martin so fast he was nearly overwhelmed by it. First was the taste of iron in his mouth as his body responded to what only it knew and flooded his system with adrenaline, after that Martin's ears were deafened by the hammering of bullets through the air and then the car shuddered around him with their impact.
He began to cough with the smell of gun powder and his breath caught in his throat as the smoke all but choked him, finally came the pain, the searing burn through his chest and abdomen as small bits of metal tore through flesh and muscle, tissue and bone and embedded themselves into his body leaving a trail of destruction, blood, shock and damage in their wake.
Honk! Honk! Honk!
"Martin, Martin."
Martin turned to his right and saw Danny staring at him blood pouring from his forehead --
"Martin!"
Martin shook himself and turned to his right and saw Danny staring at him in confusion, cell phone held to his ear.
"Martin, the light is green."
Looking forward Martin saw the light was green, the blue van that had pulled in front of him was several car lengths down the street and all other traffic was moving. The sound of the horn honking from behind him sounded again and numbly he pressed down on the gas pedal resuming their travel to the office.
As the week passed Martin found it increasingly difficult to get any quality sleep at night. No sooner would he fall asleep when his mind was assailed by flashes of light and the thundering sound of bullets. He'd wake choking on imaginary gun smoke clutching at his chest in agony only to realize there was no blood, no holes. Once he was so caught up in the sensations assaulting him that he tore his shirt so frantic were his efforts to check for bullet holes.
Each day he'd piece himself together though and head into the office as if everything was fine. The last thing he wanted now was for anyone to be second guessing his fitness for work. Van Doren had made no further suggestions about adding another agent, he and Sam had found their friendship again, Danny and he were joking like always, Jack was leaning on him to carry cases especially now as Jack was still reeling a bit from the death of his long-time friend and Vivian and he no longer walked around with sympathetic glances thrown their way, both fully up to speed and neither found themselves seeking out the other for commiseration at the 'kid glove like treatment.'
So rather than share his new found memories or seek 'deep emotional' conversations with anyone Martin tried to lock them away figuring that since he and Danny had both finally made peace with their respective roles in the shooting the last thing he wanted was to drag Danny down into some self-pitying spiral with him.
However he realized something would have to change and change rapidly once he started to work the following week. It had now been just shy of two weeks since his tumble down the stairs and subsequent trip to the ER and though much of the physical aches and pains had disappeared his inability to get any quality sleep was severely affecting not only his mental concentration but his physical appearance. When he looked in the mirror that morning in preparation for shaving he realized he had serious bags under his eyes which were evidently bloodshot and his complexion was pale.
Rubbing his face did nothing to remove any of the negative aspects of his appearance and he knew he was unlikely to escape anyone's scrutiny today.
True enough shortly after he arrived he was summoned to Jack's office.
"Hey, Jack, what's up?" Martin asked hoping for a casual tone.
"Martin, have a seat." Jack gestured without standing from his chair behind the desk.
Martin allowed the door to close behind him as he stepped fully into Jack's office and sat down in one of the chairs across the desk from his boss.
"How you doing?" Jack set his glasses down, folded his hands on the paperwork in front of him and faced Martin assessing him.
"I'm fine, why do you ask?" Martin responded trying to keep his voice neutral and create a mildly curious facial expression.
"You look – you look off today and since you had the weekend off and not too eventful of a week last week, I'm surprised that's all."
Martin forced a small laugh and went for what he hoped was an amused look on his face when he replied, "Jack, uh, just haven't slept that great for a couple of days nothing more than that."
"Any particular reason?"
"Not that I'm aware of, look every now and again I lose a little sleep, no big deal, I stay up and read a book and then by the time I'm ready for sleep it's time to get up."
Jack nodded silently as he evaluated Martin's response. "Good book?"
"What?"
"You said you read a book, what's the title of it?" Jack's eyes narrowed slightly.
Martin paused a moment before he answered. "I was reading Alive, the story about the rugby team that crashed in the Andes."
"Hmm." Jack responded.
Silence sat heavy between the two men for another few moments before Jack stood up signaling the end of the conversation.
"As long as you're doing all right. Just wanted to make sure."
"I'm fine, Jack, thanks for the concern." Martin stood and stepped to the door, opening it and stepping partway through before Jack's voice behind him stopped him.
"Why don't you head out a little early today if things remain quiet, get some sleep."
Martin swallowed and narrowed his eyes as he looked back at Jack. "Fine, we'll see what the day dictates and go from there."
With that Martin headed back to the bullpen and Jack remained standing at his desk watching.
The team remained quiet for the remainder of the day. Time was spent dealing with paperwork on some cases they were wrapping up as well as following some leads that came in on other cases.
When Jack entered the bullpen and pointedly cleared his throat at Martin, dutifully began packing up. Danny looked up from the conference table the two men had been working at watching curiously but keeping quiet. Jack took Martin's seat at the conference table and watched along with Danny who continued to throw curious and confused stares both at Martin and Jack. Once Martin left the area heading to the elevators, Danny leaned forward and addressed Jack.
"Uh, what was that all about, Jack?"
"Just making sure the team is running on all cylinders is all and Martin looks a little rough around the edges, so I sent him home early."
"Yeah, well he's been fine all day, hasn't missed a beat." Danny was a little defensive on Martin's behalf but at the same time a little relieved because although Martin had been on top of all the data they'd been reviewing and easily remembering facts and details Danny did notice how pale his features were and the dark circles under his eyes. He also noted and had lost count of how many times the man had yawned and rubbed at his eyes. Thoughtfully he returned his attention to the paperwork in front of him and quickly summarized some of their latest observations to Jack who spent the remainder of the afternoon working with him looking for any possible angles in the case that had eluded them so far.
Pain, hot pain searing through his chest and abdomen woke Martin from his sleep. Clutching at his chest and scrambling frantically to get free from the tangle of bed sheets Martin reached out for the light knocking several items off his bed stand in the process. Gasping for air and blinking his eyes as they adjusted to the now bright room he bent over at the edge of the bed trying to calm his mind and slow the rising nausea.
After a few moments he was able to lift his head without fear of dinner making an encore appearance and as his breathing slowed and his mind cleared he looked around at the clock checking the time. 12:30 a.m. Damn He'd only finally managed to get his mind to slow enough to allow him to drift off into an uneasy sleep shortly after 11:00 p.m. and now this latest nightmare had his system flooded with adrenaline; it would be awhile before he was able to calm himself enough to try sleeping again.
Great, Jack will take one look at me and send me home or worse, back to Lisa and then Van Doren will likely send down a message to Jack that perhaps he should rethink bringing a new agent onto the team.
Ruefully Martin stood up and immediately hopped to the side as his foot encountered something cold and wet. Looking down he realized the carpet was soaked and then he noticed that in his haste to turn the light on he'd managed to knock over the glass of water he kept at his bedside and the contents were dripping down the side of the table and puddling on the carpet. Also on the carpet was his watch which he grabbed quickly checking to make sure it had escaped the water – it had, and two pill bottles.
Plucking those from the floor as well he glanced quickly noting that one was for his recent prescription for Tylenol III and the other was a leftover from before for Vicodin. Absently he read the label, 'Take with food' 'Do not take with alcohol' 'Likely to cause drowsiness' – huh, well, hell, Martin thought, sleep is what the doctor otherwise known as Jack ordered.
Prying open the lid Martin shook the bottle gently noting about a dozen or so pills in there, no problem he thought, take one and get a good night's rest. Tipping the bottle so that one pill fell into the palm of his hand he recapped the bottle, picked up the tipped glass from the bed stand and walked to the bathroom to fill it. Tossing back the pill he swallowed it with a mouthful of water and then returned to the bedroom, wiped up the water on the table and floor with a towel he brought from the bathroom, climbing into bed, turned out the light and waited for sleep to reclaim him.
TBC…