The moonlight came in through the cracks of the window shades and spilled across Martin's smooth back, which Samantha had a hard time taking her eyes off of. His breathing was slow and shallow, and a slight congested-sounding snore told her that he was in a deep sleep. He was lying on his stomach, his right arm curled around his pillow. His left arm had reached out for her over an hour ago, and when it missed her, she clasped his hand in hers, and held it close to her body. It must have satisfied him, because he'd instantly settled back to sleep.
Sleep. What a nice thought. For some reason, it wasn't coming to her tonight. This morning would actually be a better description, because it was already three in the morning. In a few hours she'd be back at the office, and she worried that she wouldn't have gotten enough rest to focus on her job. Then Martin would feel guilty for not soothing her to sleep. She smiled as she watched Martin smile in his sleep, his face looking peaceful in a way it rarely did.
After all the dead end relationships she'd been in over the course of her life, she was still somewhat amazed that she'd managed to land someone like Martin. Her Marty, though she called him that rarely. The first time she did, she was teasing him with it, and he'd given her a Look. Now she only called him that when she was feeling particularly vulnerable.
She closed her eyes tightly, the day's events running through her mind, like a movie on slow motion. She could still hear the little girl's screams; still see the irrationality in her father's eyes. By the time Samantha and Danny had managed to get inside, the father was dead, shot with a bullet from Danny's gun. It was a good shooting; there was no doubt Danny would be cleared by OPR. The little girl was huddled in the corner, frightened of a violently abusive father, but also frightened of Samantha and Danny, for her mother had taught her early on that guns were bad, and so were the people who used them. She must have left law enforcement out of the lecture.
Martin wasn't there; he and Viv had been driving in from Connecticut where they'd been interviewing some potential suspects. They'd been halfway home when they got the call that the little girl was found, and her kidnapper slash father was killed.
She'd hid her anguish from Martin, almost afraid to let him see her emotional pain. She'd managed to convince him that she was fine, slightly ashamed of her feelings; after his own shooting, this seemed to pale in comparison.
She didn't notice that a tear had slipped down her cheek until she felt his fingertips brush against her cheek. "That shooting bothered you a lot more than you let on." Martin murmured, his sleep filled eyes somewhat focused on her. She nodded slightly, feeling more tears well up has he pulled her closer. "I'm sorry Sam." He whispered, the guilt he felt evident in his voice.
"For what?" She whispered, struggling to maintain her composure.
"For not making you talk about it." He answered, his heartbeat beating through her thin spaghetti strap shirt.
"Marty," She whispered, into his shoulder. "Just hold me tonight." She closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around his waist as he kissed her on the forehead and held her tightly.