Spoilers: Moving On, The Bus, A Tree Falls, The Friendly Skies, Confidence
Author's Note: Please be kind, this is my first fanfiction that wasn't
Newsies. In fact, this is my first fanfiction in a couple of years. No
flames please. Oh yeah, this is implied M/S feelings; with mentions of past
J/S. Nothing much ever comes out of it. Unless you review and like the
idea.. *nudge nudge wink wink*
Oh, and anything in between two asterisks (* * ( those lil' puppies) is supposed to be italics. And everything in italics is dialogue from the show.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine. Don't sue. I'm not making any money off of this, all you'll get is my CSI DVDs and a couple teddy bears.
~*~*~
She'd lied earlier, when she said that she didn't know why this latest case had made her so sad. Part of her didn't understand. They'd had a happy ending. They had found their missing doctor; a female neurosurgeon who lived in a world where people like her was a rarity. They'd reunited a mother and her adopted daughter. So why did this case make Samantha sad?
*"Why did that make you sad?"* The "federally funded therapist" whom Samantha had adamantly resisted in the beginning asked.
Tears gathered in Samantha's eyes, and her lower lip quivered a little. The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, yet the words, *"I don't know"* came out instead.
On the drive home, she'd allowed the tears to slip down her face. Upon learning about the letter the adoption agency had sent a letter to "Wendy," another baby's face flashed in front of her mind's eye. A pink faced baby with blonde fuzz. The baby that had gone from her uterus to the arms of her new mommy and daddy, a young couple from Chicago who'd been unable to conceive on their own.
Walking through the door to her apartment, she closed the door and leaned against it. Glancing around her apartment, she felt a second round of tears gather. Their apartments were so similar.cold, impersonal. They both work too much. She sank onto her couch, feeling insanely connected to a woman that she'd barely met. 'You didn't have to meet her Sam.' A little voice in her head chided. 'You just poked and prodded into every detail of the life of a woman whose only intention was protecting her daughter. Even though it turned out to not be her daughter.'
*"You need to get out more."*
Martin's words, gentle and quiet, flashed into her mind's ear. Her heart clenched as she thought of the game the two of them had been playing since he'd joined the team. When he'd first asked her if she wanted to go grab drinks after they'd solved the case where the flight attended had gone missing, her heart had still been set on Jack. She'd been so blinded by him. She knew she could never be his, not totally, not legally, but she'd given him her heart, and although they both know he couldn't have it, she let him keep it.
Then after the shooting, where she killed the two men that had kidnapped a bus full of kids, she had taken him up on his offer. She'd had a good time, she couldn't deny that. After years of being in law enforcement, first in the NYPD and then the FBI, she'd grown used to male co-workers trying to seduce her. Martin was different. He made no such attempt; he'd tried to help her by simply being there. That night, after she'd gone to bed, as she was falling asleep, she felt a slight pang in her gut that nothing more had happened.
Nothing had happened after that.life had returned to normal in the Missing Persons unit, or as normal as life could get. When Jack sent Martin and Samantha to Palm Springs to question Voland, Voland had asked Martin if she was his girlfriend. *"I'm his partner."* She answered like a hardass, squishing the feelings of regret like a bug. 'But I want to be.' The little voice in her head continued, and she felt herself flush, and found herself grateful that Martin made no further comment, and even more grateful that neither of the two men had noticed.
Her heart had broken for him after the shooting he as involved in, the one where he'd killed "El Coyote." She was so glad that Reyes only had a knife, not a gun, and her maternal instincts came out of nowhere when she saw him sitting at his desk, going over his report, worrying internally about the OPR investigation in the morning. She'd asked him if he wanted to go out for drinks, but no. *"I have to finish my report."*
Finally, equilibrium had returned the team. And now this case. She glanced at the clock, 10:24. Deciding he'd probably still be up, she picked up her phone, and dialed.
One ring. Two Rings. Halfway through the third ring, he picked up. "Fitzgerald." He answered smoothly, a hint of confusion, wondering who'd be calling this late.
"Martin? It's me, Samantha."
Oh, and anything in between two asterisks (* * ( those lil' puppies) is supposed to be italics. And everything in italics is dialogue from the show.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine. Don't sue. I'm not making any money off of this, all you'll get is my CSI DVDs and a couple teddy bears.
~*~*~
She'd lied earlier, when she said that she didn't know why this latest case had made her so sad. Part of her didn't understand. They'd had a happy ending. They had found their missing doctor; a female neurosurgeon who lived in a world where people like her was a rarity. They'd reunited a mother and her adopted daughter. So why did this case make Samantha sad?
*"Why did that make you sad?"* The "federally funded therapist" whom Samantha had adamantly resisted in the beginning asked.
Tears gathered in Samantha's eyes, and her lower lip quivered a little. The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, yet the words, *"I don't know"* came out instead.
On the drive home, she'd allowed the tears to slip down her face. Upon learning about the letter the adoption agency had sent a letter to "Wendy," another baby's face flashed in front of her mind's eye. A pink faced baby with blonde fuzz. The baby that had gone from her uterus to the arms of her new mommy and daddy, a young couple from Chicago who'd been unable to conceive on their own.
Walking through the door to her apartment, she closed the door and leaned against it. Glancing around her apartment, she felt a second round of tears gather. Their apartments were so similar.cold, impersonal. They both work too much. She sank onto her couch, feeling insanely connected to a woman that she'd barely met. 'You didn't have to meet her Sam.' A little voice in her head chided. 'You just poked and prodded into every detail of the life of a woman whose only intention was protecting her daughter. Even though it turned out to not be her daughter.'
*"You need to get out more."*
Martin's words, gentle and quiet, flashed into her mind's ear. Her heart clenched as she thought of the game the two of them had been playing since he'd joined the team. When he'd first asked her if she wanted to go grab drinks after they'd solved the case where the flight attended had gone missing, her heart had still been set on Jack. She'd been so blinded by him. She knew she could never be his, not totally, not legally, but she'd given him her heart, and although they both know he couldn't have it, she let him keep it.
Then after the shooting, where she killed the two men that had kidnapped a bus full of kids, she had taken him up on his offer. She'd had a good time, she couldn't deny that. After years of being in law enforcement, first in the NYPD and then the FBI, she'd grown used to male co-workers trying to seduce her. Martin was different. He made no such attempt; he'd tried to help her by simply being there. That night, after she'd gone to bed, as she was falling asleep, she felt a slight pang in her gut that nothing more had happened.
Nothing had happened after that.life had returned to normal in the Missing Persons unit, or as normal as life could get. When Jack sent Martin and Samantha to Palm Springs to question Voland, Voland had asked Martin if she was his girlfriend. *"I'm his partner."* She answered like a hardass, squishing the feelings of regret like a bug. 'But I want to be.' The little voice in her head continued, and she felt herself flush, and found herself grateful that Martin made no further comment, and even more grateful that neither of the two men had noticed.
Her heart had broken for him after the shooting he as involved in, the one where he'd killed "El Coyote." She was so glad that Reyes only had a knife, not a gun, and her maternal instincts came out of nowhere when she saw him sitting at his desk, going over his report, worrying internally about the OPR investigation in the morning. She'd asked him if he wanted to go out for drinks, but no. *"I have to finish my report."*
Finally, equilibrium had returned the team. And now this case. She glanced at the clock, 10:24. Deciding he'd probably still be up, she picked up her phone, and dialed.
One ring. Two Rings. Halfway through the third ring, he picked up. "Fitzgerald." He answered smoothly, a hint of confusion, wondering who'd be calling this late.
"Martin? It's me, Samantha."