Full Moon and China White

By AJ

Chapter 14: 4 hours found

By the time all of Martin's tox screen and films came back the doctor had determined that the agent could be moved to a private room. This news helped Samantha to relax; the comings and goings of the staff were more easily monitored in private quarters and any confrontations, even low-key ones like had been with the doctor, could be done in the hallway and our from Martin's view. The ICU had been much too open and the recovering agent didn't need any more grief.

Martin appeared to sleep through the change in rooms. Samantha wasn't completely convinced that he was, in fact, asleep. For some reason, she had the feeling that he was playing opossum. Why, she couldn't say, but she didn't blame him; he had a lot to contend with right now. She hoped that Martin would eventually realize that he was safe with this friends and cohorts watching over him and get some real rest.

Jack was in and out of the scene touching bases with both DEA and FBI sources, as well as Director Fitzgerald's contacts. Mee Liang seemed to have simply disappeared from the city of New York. Jack schooled the team to not let their guard down, however. Liang was known as being both shrewd and calculating – if he saw Martin as a loose end, he wouldn't be obvious about his attack. The man had enough money, contacts and influence to get the job done right.

Samantha rubbed her eyes. The chair outside of Martin's room was unforgiving. Her shift would end in about an hour when Danny would relieve her and she was guiltily pleased at the timing – Martin's mother was due in about that time and she wasn't sure she wanted to deal with that. Danny would be much better at it. He had a way with mothers; they always wanted to take him home and feed him cookies or what ever it was that mothers did with wayward strays. She snorted a short laugh at the thought. Somehow she knew that whoever was married to Victor Fitzgerald wouldn't fall in that mold and it made her wonder what kind of woman Martin's mother was. Her curiosity, however, wasn't strong enough to entice her to stick around.

Samantha checked her watch and considered looking in on Martin again. Standing from the molded plastic that claimed to be a chair, she stretched, nodded a greeting to a passing nurse, and turned to the door beside her. Pushing it open, Samantha poked her head in and caught Martin picking at the board restraint still on the arm that held the I.V.

"Keep fiddling with that and you're gonna be in trouble with Nurse Rachet," she teased, slipping into the room. She was rewarded with a tight grin, the closest thing she'd seen to a smile in way too long. Martin looked down, but not defeated. She smiled in return and stood beside him. "How are you doing?"

"Better, I think." Martin's voice sounded wispy. "Straps hurt."

Martin turned his head slightly sideways, breaking eye contact. Samantha thought she saw a tinge of pink appear on his cheeks and realized he must be embarrassed by the restraints. She cleared her throat and also looked aside.

"They'll take those off soon, I'm sure," Samantha offered.

"Where are my clothes?" Martin asked, his voice gruff. He looked back at her and issued a weak smile. "I'm gettin' a chill, here." He picked at the hospital gown with his little fingers.

"I think they're under the bed," Samantha said, glad for the distraction. Bending over, she glanced at the metal basket attached to the bed's underside. "Yup, that's where they are. Not that they are worth saving." She stood again and patted Martin's shoulder. "Maybe your mom will bring you something."

Wide blue eyes regarded her blankly. "My mom?"

"Yeah. Your dad said she was on her way. She should be here any time now." Martin continued to stare at her, clearly confused. "Your dad's already here. Don't you remember?"

"No, not really." Martin raised his hand and tried to run it through his hair but the restraint didn't allow it. With a scowl, he dropped his arm. "Things are kind of a blur," he mumbled. Then he winced.

"I bet." A wayward lock of hair hung down across his forehead in an unruly manner and Samantha had to keep herself from brushing it aside with her fingers. She was sure he wouldn't take that well. Martin looked so helpless at this moment; she wanted to reassure him that none of this was his fault and that it could have happened to any of them. She wanted to sit beside him and hold his hand. Before she could do any of these things, he suddenly tensed up.

"What's wrong?" Samantha watched as Martin rolled to one side and tried to curl up. "Cramps again, huh?"

All he could do was nod and groan. After a moment, he she heard him plead, "Please, Sam, one arm? Give me one arm."

Samantha could see that Martin was trying to wrap his arm around his stomach but the restraints made it impossible. She chewed her lip for a moment, and then made a decision. Quickly, she released the arm without the I.V. Martin immediately held himself tightly and hissed his thanks. For the next several minutes she stood helplessly, rubbing his back as he rode out the pain.

When the worst seemed to pass and Martin slowly unfolded, she could feel his trembling under her hand. Carefully, he rolled to his back; his face was pale and damp. She took his hand, ignoring the clammy feel and forced him to meet her eyes. "Look," Samantha said. "I'm here for another hour. Is there anything I can get or do for you, Martin?"

He smiled weakly at her. "Thanks," he said, dropping his eyes. "But I don't . . . wait." He looked at her and all she saw was a lost soul. His voice was a hoarse whisper. "Maybe some socks? My feet are cold."

She smiled. "Sure. I'll get you fixed up." She gently squeezed his hand just before the turned and left the room.

&&&&&&&&&&&

'I should feel like a heel, using her like that,' Martin thought as he watched his partner and friend leave the room. 'But I've got to get out of here before Mom arrives. It's my last chance.'

Fumbling fingers finally released his other arm from the board restraint. Martin eyed the I.V. but decided to leave it for the time being. It would be the last thing to go. He slipped from the bed and stood, taking a moment to find his balance before bending down and retrieving his clothes – balancing was difficult, but he finally dragged the items to the bed. He shook out the pants. 'Damn,' he thought as he noticed the ripped knees generally filthy appearance. 'That may be a problem.' Shakily, he still slipped on the pants and quickly examined the similarly soiled t-shirt. Martin turned the shirt inside out. 'It'll have to do,' he thought as he started to slip out of the hospital gown. It was then that I.V. became a problem.

Carefully, he pulled out the needle and bent his arm to stop the spot of blood from growing. Then, he reached over and stopped the flow of the liquid with a turn of the adjustment wheel. Next, he slipped off the gown, put on the soiled shirt and draped the hospital gown over his street clothes. Martin looked down at himself. 'It'll have to do,' he reassured himself as he slipped back into the bed. His head pounded but his resolve was strong – he had to clean up the mess he'd made of Sun's life.

Lying back on the bed, Martin rethought his flimsy plan. After a few moments he remembered the I.V. and used the tape to stick the needle to his inner arm. Then he fiddled with the board so it looked attached, and twisted his arm sideways so the needle wasn't visible. Next, he tugged the pant legs up to his knees and pulled the sheet and blanket over him. Satisfied, he laid back and awaited Samantha's return. The next step would be trickier; his partner was not easily fooled.

But he was running out of time.

Within minutes, Samantha returned, her eyes dancing. ""Mission accomplished!" she bragged as she pulled a pair of . . . something . . . from her pocket. Holding them aloft, her smile reduced to a frown. "Okay, so they aren't real socks," she said as she moved to the foot of Martin's bed and lifted the blanket. "They are surgical booties and the best I could do for the moment. " She slipped the green booties on each foot. "I'll bring you some real socks after my break." She tucked the blankets snugly over his legs and feet.

Martin chuckled, pushing down the rising guilt. "That's fine. Thanks." He settled back into the pillows and put on a tired face. "Could you get me some ice chips? For my throat?" He rubbed his neck and felt the artery racing under his fingertips.

Samantha smiled again, but there was still that annoying trace of sadness. "Sure. The ice machine is just behind the nurse's station down the hall. I'll have the nurse get it." She picked up the cup. "I'll be right back."

When Samantha slipped from the room, Martin moved automatically. By the time the door clicked shut he was at the knob, pulling it open. A quick glance showed him Samantha's back as she approached the nurses' station and got the attention of the sole nurse behind the counter. When Samantha had the woman's attention, Martin seized the opportunity and slipped from the room. As he stole down the hall, he felt a stab of betrayal. It was hard to ignore, but not impossible.

The only thing he could think of was to get far away before the next round of cramps hit – and he knew that wouldn't be long. He could feel the shakiness of his gut even now; all he needed was distance and a little time before contacting Liang. He also knew that as soon as Samantha discovered him missing, the hospital would be locked up tight.

Martin had figured out what hospital he was in during the move from ICU to the room. They layout appeared in his mind as he moved down the hallway. This was on the third floor. Surgery was on the fourth floor, and with it, locker rooms and clothes. To get out of this place, he first needed to clean up.

Martin took the stairs to the fourth floor and was alarmed at his weakness in tackling steps. When he reached the top he stopped and slumped against the wall until his breathing and heart rate were normal. The nausea, however, would not be dispelled. Once again in control Martin slipped from the doors and followed the signs to surgery. Luckily, he found it crowded with waiting families and easily weaved his way through the crowd until he found a door that said "Hospital Staff Only". Without even slowing, he pushed the door open and saw an entrance to the surgeons' locker room.

Entering the room like he belonged there and relieved there was no one in sight, Martin quickly found several open lockers and changed into clean, borrowed street clothes. He also borrowed some cash and a clip-on identification tag. Before leaving, he glanced in a mirror and was momentarily shocked.

The left side of his face was bruised and swollen; his left eye nearly closed. No wonder his headache was so persistent. Returning to the lockers, he plucked a baseball cap from one of them and pulled off the tie he'd donned. With the top shirt buttons undone, he looked far more casual and the ball cap, when pulled down, covered most of the damage to his face. Again, it would have to do. Martin paused to take a breath and try to settle his stomach. He also felt the tendrils of the impending cramps and knew he had to find a quiet place, fast. His palms broke into a cold sweat.

Standing up straight against the growing discomfort, Martin stepped from the locker room and made his way through the waiting area, hoping the cramps held off for just a few minutes longer. He punched the elevator 'down' button, and was momentarily pleased when an immediate 'ding' announced the arrival of a car. When the doors parted, though, he was taken aback for a fleeting second at the crowd inside. Setting his jaw, Martin stepped inside and ducked his head. The agent knew he had little time before he was in trouble and hoped to be off the elevator before the first physical assault hit him.

Luckily, he made it to the first floor. When the doors opened, he was relieved to find the hallway very busy. Martin stepped into the crowd and headed for a less - used set of doors by the employee's parking lot. There was a security guard standing by the exit, talking on a cell phone. Walking with a sure stride Martin overtook two nurses heading out the door and exchanged pleasantries with a ducked head. He could feel the eyes of the security guard on them but kept up a light hearted conversation with the nurses. The ruse worked, and they breezed right past the guard.

Once outside, Martin parted ways with the nurses and turned toward the busy street. Trying to control his breathing to hold off the cramps, he made a list in his mind.

First he needed a quiet place to ride out the cramps. Then he needed a gun. Lastly, he needed a phone to contact Liang. Martin knew where he could find all three.

TBC