Okay, still going forward with this plot line. Thoughts? Have I gone completely around the bend? Has the story gone completely off the rails?
~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,~,
Chapter 10: Recovered Memories
Marty stared up at the ceiling and tried to dredge up any memory of what had led to him being here in this bizarre locked room. He had once again come out of his drug induced sleep alone. He had tried to sit up only to realize that this time his hands were handcuffed to the headboard of the bed. "This just keeps getting better and better." he thought in disgust. He thought about Laura Adams and when he first met her back when she had started working for Bates about a year and a half ago.
He had thought she was pretty in a washed out kind of way, blonde and pale. His preference was definitely brunettes, as Ray had told Kensi, he was a sucker for them. Still, he had automatically flirted with her, although it had been halfhearted at best. At that point his feelings for his partner had already dulled his interest in other women. He had noted the spark of interest in her eyes and had immediately withdrawn. Each time he saw her after that he had been careful to be nice but distant, not wanting her to think he was attracted to her. "What could I possibly have done to lead her to believe that we are in a relationship?" he wondered in confusion. "I just don't get it." He tried to remember each time he had seen her after that first meeting. It was only when he had come in to meet with Bates; he never had any other interaction with her outside that. He could remember right up until the last time and was hoping that he could trigger the memories he so desperately wanted. Each meeting was fairly clear but everything after getting home was still a blank.
He moved on the bed, realizing he had another problem now. His bladder was complaining loud and clear. He hoped she would come back soon and let him up to use the bathroom. He tried to distract himself by envisioning his team rescuing him. He had no doubts that his NCIS team would find him; it was only a matter of time. He sighed, knowing that there was no way he was ever going to live this down. Once they got over the adrenalin rush of rescuing him, Sam and Callen would feast on this for weeks, months, if not years to come. He was pretty sure it would start shortly after they came through the door. He could picture the two of them laughing hysterically at his predicament. How Kensi would react, well, he really had nothing to base an expectation of her reaction on.
He was relieved when he heard the key in the lock and Laura entered the room carrying a tray of food. "Oh good, you're awake! Are you hungry sweetheart?" she asked him. He realized he was, he had no idea how long it had been since he had last eaten but he had other, more urgent things on his mind right now. "Could you let me up to use the bathroom Laura? Please?" he tried to keep the whining out his voice.
She put down the tray she was carrying and pulled a gun out of her pocket. "I'll let you up if you promise not to try to hurt or leave me again. I won't kill you, but I can make it very uncomfortable for you. Do we have a deal?" she replied, pointing the gun at him. At this stage, he would agree to pretty much anything, so he nodded his head. She came over to the bed, placed the gun on the night stand close enough at hand that she could get to it before he could make any move on her. She then unlocked the cuffs on his left hand. She moved over to the right side of the bed and repeated the process. He slid off the bed slowly and made his way unsteadily to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
Once he had taken care of business, he sniffed and realized he could smell himself. He had not taken a shower at LAPD when he had come off his assignment, he had been too eager to get home to his own bathroom and bed. He stepped back out into the bedroom and asked "Can I take a shower? I'm filthy and I smell. I only had time for a quick wash down at LAPD when I came back in from the Loretti case. I could really use the change of clothes too."
She looked at him, measuring his sincerity and then nodded once. "Do you want to eat first or shower?"
"Shower." he replied.
She motioned a go ahead with the gun in her hand and he went back into the bathroom and closed the door. It was only as he started to remove his clothes that he realized he had not thought to bring clean ones in with him. He wondered if he should go back out and get them but he was starting to tire and was hoping the shower would help to clear his head. He picked up his discarded clothes and automatically threw them in the hamper as he normally would at home. When he realized what he had done, he thought "I am really going to go crazy if I don't get out of here soon." Moving to the shower, he turned it up as hot as he could stand it and stepped under the spray. "Damn that feels good." he thought. He picked up the shampoo sitting on the bath shelf, recognizing his brand and shrugged. Once he was clean, he started to feel human again but his mind was still fuzzy.
He turned the temperature to cold, hoping it would help. The cold water hit his heated body and he yelped. A knock came at the bathroom door. "Are you okay in there love?"
"I'm fine!" he yelled back, praying she wouldn't decide to come in to check on him. He didn't think he could deal with that right now. Standing under the cold water, he felt his head begin to clear, the drug was wearing off and the memories were starting to come back. He placed his hands on the wall and leaned into it, letting them come.
He remembered pulling up to the apartment complex and getting out of the car, dying to get inside and decompress. He had heard a car pull up behind him and had tensed, instantly going into fight mode but had then relaxed as he recognized the voice that called out to him. "Marty! Thank goodness, someone I know. I'm hopelessly lost. Can you take a look at this map and point me in the right direction?" He turned and looked into the Civic and had said "Sure, Laura, where are you headed?" She had held up the map and given him an address that was several blocks over from where they were now. He had stuck his head in the passenger window to give her directions. She had looked at him hopelessly and asked if he could mark it out on the map, she was horrible at directions. He had no reason to distrust her, she was LAPD after all. So he had opened the passenger door and slipped inside, hoping to mark the map and get out as quickly as possible. He still had to pick up Monty from Mrs. Hudson, shower, call Kensi and then fall into bed for a cat nap before she got home with dinner. He had taken the map and a pen from her when he felt a jab to his left bicep and had turned to look at her saying "Wha…" That was the last thing he remembered until he had come to that first time.
He stepped out of the shower and began drying off. He pondered his options. He had no weapons and she was now carrying a gun and didn't trust him not to run. He thought about the fact that she seemed to think that they were together and wondered if he could work with that. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that should be the way he played it. If he could convince her that he wasn't a flight risk because he was in love with her and wanted to be here, he had a better chance of getting out of this locked room. Once out, he could hopefully figure out a way to make a break for it.
He wrapped a towel around his waist, making sure it rode low on his hips and stepped out into the bedroom again. He wasn't disappointed in her reaction to his damp and mostly naked body. He pretended to be shy and said "I forgot the clean clothes, I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you." She swallowed hard and told him it was fine. He moved over to the dresser and pulled out some clean underwear, jeans and a t-shirt. Once he had his hands on the jeans, he realized they were, in fact, new and not his own comfortable broken in ones. Somehow that made him feel better although he wasn't quite sure why. He steeled himself and let the towel fall to the floor, keeping his back to her. He pulled on the clean clothes slowly, drawing it out and then turned to her, noting the glazed look in her eyes and the fact that the gun was now pointing at the floor. He had a moment's thought to make a grab for it but realized she was too far away and he was still too unsteady to make it to her before she realized what was going on. He wouldn't put it past her to shoot him. It was time to put Plan B into motion.