**Axis Two**
Enjoy if you wish.
And don't forget to review. But please, no flames. Unless it's really necessary or a constructive criticism.
Thanks Lia for beta reading!
~*~
~A few days later~
She had called him like he had asked.
Martin came to visit Samantha a couple of times more, bringing contrabanded chocolate and McDonald's cookies. He'd have brought one of theirs BigMac hamburgers but then it would be a little difficult to get inside her room with so much stuff in his hands. It was wrong to bring her food that could make her ill or, well... make her healthy none the better. Especially with all the nurses and doctors around, checking on her all the time. But oh boy, the bright smile she gave him when she saw his little gifts was definitely worth the danger of coming through the hospital staff.
They had chatted for much more time since with her release coming closer there was no danger of tiring her with words. Her mouth would definitely not make her tired of speaking. Samantha had so much to talk about; so much to share with Martin that it actually surprised both of them. He never knew she one of talking so much, a blabbermouth. She wanted to know how everyone was doing even if each one of them had visited her before. She wanted to know how things were doing, how they were doing at work, how they were doing stuff without her.
Martin knew very well what she really wanted to know, which was if they were handling things well without her, if she was missed. She was silly of thinking they didn't care about her. He didn't know how she went on with those thoughts in her head. He said every one missed her and none could do things right, so she should get better soon so she could go back to work and put some order in there because they really needed her. She gave him a small smile and he couldn't know if she really believed him, he only hoped so.
And in one of those visits he remembered her to call him and let him know when she'd leave so he could come pick her up. She contested, told him it wasn't necessary, tried to keep her 'I-can-do-anything-alone' face but she did call him. She called him anyway and told him what day and what time she would leave. It made him happy. For the silliest thing he was happy.
Now he was in her bedroom waiting as she changed in the bathroom, hearing carefully each of her movements, worried that she could trip and fall over her leg. 'No' He thought, 'she wouldn't fall. Not Samantha.' No... Not this Samantha and even if she did, she would never let him know so, never let him see her down. Not again.
Martin glanced around, out of reflex, checking the room now that Sam's few stuff wasn't there anymore. The roses they sent to her weren't there anymore, the ruffled sheets on the bed weren't ruffled anymore and the empty bags of his contrabanded candies were in the garbage. Sam's bag with the few things Viv had brought from Sam's place was over the bed, already packed and closed.
Then he saw the crutches resting on the white wall. It was almost as white as the wall itself and if you didn't look right you could even miss it. He walked to there and took the crutches then knocked softly on the bathroom door. "Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You hanging good? You forgot your crutches here." He heard her soft, annoyed sigh at the end of his inquiry. He knew she was hating the idea of needing something to lean on, something other than herself to keep her going. She'd have to use these crutches for a long while, until her leg was good again and the idea of having to use them was despising to say the least.
She unlocked the door and stepped out, wearing a red top and black jeans. This time she had given in on her high heels to use comfortable sneakers. Her hand was heavily grasping the doorknob, using it as lifesaver to prevent her from falling to the floor. Her knuckles were turning white and her face held a very painful expression. He knew she was in pain and walking without any support was only making things worse.
He gently took her hand from the doorknob and held it tightly in his own as he handed her the crutches and helped her to use them. "Thanks." She said between clenched teeth, the pain in her leg sending a tingle through her whole body.
"Did you take your pills?"
"Yeah. I'll be fine in a few minutes." She said firmly, though her face didn't hold the same certainty her voice showed. She slowly walked to the bed and was about to grab the suitcase when Martin reached out and grabbed it first.
"How do you think you'll hold this bag with both hands occupied?"
"I can manage."
"No, you can't."
Even with the weak state she was in, Samantha still insisted on showing she was fine and she could do everything by herself. She was always so tough, brave, she always let people see only what she wanted them to see and seeing her weak wasn't one of those things. She knew she couldn't hold that bag, she knew Martin knew that and still she tried to show him he was wrong, even of he wasn't. She just didn't want people close enough. And letting Martin see Samantha's truly self, mean getting attached, letting him get too close and being close meant losing him. She didn't know why she felt like that, but she didn't want to lose him before she had gotten to really know him.
She had never been shot in her entire life. Sure, she had been hurt by a lot of other ways, a few she couldn't even think about, but being shot was a whole experience for her. A very unpleasant one. She always hated the pain but at the same time she liked the same pain inflicted on her because with the pain she had something to think about other than face the hard reality she lived in. It took her mind from the 'now' to the 'what if'.
Bullshit...
She let out a heavy deep sigh, one she was sure Martin would notice and see how much annoyed by the situation she was. Not that it would stop him from doing what he thought was honorable anyway. He gave her a sly smile and grabbed the bag then walked to the door, leaving Sam behind to walk by herself all the way.
He thought that maybe - just maybe - she would see she couldn't do all that by herself and ask his help, at least until they were out of the hospital and in the security of her apartment. He opened the door and turned to her, only to watch the stubbornness of the woman he so long worshipped stumble to him, trying to get used to the new crutches. Yup, she wouldn't ask for help. She'd even fall before searching for helpful hands.
Maybe she was stubborn but sure she was strong. He knew her leg was still hurting because the painkillers hadn't worked in her system yet and walking when she was in pain was a tough job, still she managed to do all by herself. And she really did. She made faces, took in sharp breathes, trembled even, but she walked all the way to the door without help. Except the crutches of course. When she reached him, Martin gave her a smile, which he hoped was bright, to let her know how much he was proud of her, of her being as strong as she was.
But just outside a nurse was waiting with a wheelchair and he knew they would argue a lot before leaving Sam walk out of the hospital. "Miss Spade." The nurse greeted formally.
Sam stared at her for a few seconds, not saying a word then her eyes fell to the wheelchair and she made a face. "I can walk, thank you."
"Sit, Samantha. Now." Martin said with a soft but resolute voice. Samantha looked at him with her expression that always made people turn their heads down and she'd be with her hands on her hips if they weren't holding the crutches. Martin held her look, daring her with the same stubbornness she had and sensing this time he wouldn't give up and knowing she should put less weight over her leg, she sat very heavily on the chair.
Martin took her crutches and walked beside her wheelchair as the nurse pushed it out of the hospital.
*
She woke up that same night she came home, with a sharp pain in her leg. Sleep had come very hard to her and when she had finally gotten to sleep her leg started to hurt and now it was hurting so much that it actually awakened her.
Sam groaned in anger as she gingerly got up to find her pills. All she wanted was a good night's sleep in her own bed with her own things. She had slept at the hospital for too long and the comfort of her soft bed was highly welcoming. The smell of her fresh clean sheets gave her a sense of peace and made her forget about the sterile smell of hospital sheets. Her bed looked so inviting. If only her leg wasn't hurting...
"Goddamn it." She muttered, using her good leg to step on the cold floor. She really needed to put a carpet in her bedroom. Using her good leg was easy but her problem was to get up fully and grab the crutches. She had been stupid enough to forget her bottle of pills over the coffee table instead of taking it to her bedroom with her. And she had been even more stupid to forget taking the two pills she was supposed to in every four hours.
Well, now she had the pain to remember her that.
As she reached the threshold of the bedroom door her breath was short and quick and she thought she'd faint any minute at how fast her heart was beating. She tried to concentrate on getting to the living room instead of the pain increasing in her leg. And because of the pain she had to walk slower, put less movement on her leg, what was making it harder to get to the coffee table and take her pills.
When she finally found her way to the living room her cheeks were already stained with hot tears. She tried to blink away the pooling liquid but all that that move made was to make more tears come out of her eyes. She was hurting and she couldn't take it anymore and that thought almost made her melt into the couch, but too worried with her leg she sat carefully. She let go of the crutches and with trembling fingers she reached for the bottle of pills but since her fingers seemed to have life of their own, instead of holding the bottle, she let it fall to floor, rolling under the coffee table.
"You fucking thing." She muttered angrily. How could she bend under the table to get that if she had that little thing going on in her leg? Hurting as much as she was, even moving her leg to rest on the coffee table was too much. How could she go under the coffee table then? "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
She had the idea of using one of the crutches to push the bottle back to her, so she grabbed it and pulled one end under the table, turning her head to look as she did so. But to her great luck it pushed the bottle further from her. Angry with herself she punched the crutch on the table with all the strength her disabled state allowed at that moment, making loud sounds echo through her apartment and the wood of the coffee table crack slightly..
She had only two options, one, bending down under the coffee table and hurting her leg even more or two, calling Martin and ask for his help.
And truth be told, she didn't like either.
But as she thought about her options and looked at the cordless phone lying on the couch she knew she could do only one thing.
*
"Sam?" She heard his voice ten minutes later; feeling like all her problems could vanish with the simple fact he was around. That maybe having Martin near her would make the pain go away. She thought that the soft tone of his voice had the ability of catching her attention and making her concentrate on something else than what she was supposed to. It could work with the pain, right?
She had gotten up earlier to unlock the door and wait for Martin but since the pain in her leg was too much she could not handle staying up any longer so she pulled out one of her dinner table chair and sat heavily on it. She tried to sing, to do read a lost magazine over the table, anything that could make her forget the pain. She even tried massaging the flesh around her injury but ended with not a lot of good results.
Then she only prayed Martin would come soon.
And now, hearing his voice was like God was listening to her. She had never been so relieved for someone helping her like she was the instant Martin's voice reached her ears. "It's open." She said with all the strength she could muster.
He slowly pushed the door open and walked inside, searching for ay sign of a still alive Samantha. She had called him this late with a voice so weak and she seemed to be crying. He had never seen Samantha crying but in less than two weeks this had happened twice. He wondered if she'd forgive herself for showing any 'sign of weakness' to someone else when she wanted only to seem tough and strong and controlled.
The first thing he saw was the brightness of her wetted face under the cold streetlights and the soft caress of the moonlight. Her face was slightly glistening though her hard attempts to dry it, to wipe away any evidence she might have been crying. He felt his heart ache from the simple thought that she could be in pain and he wasn't there to stop it. Maybe he wasn't but she had trusted him enough to call and ask for his help now that she actually was in pain.
Selfishly he felt that stupid want to smile.
She was sitting heavily and uncomfortable on the chair and visibly in pain. He hurried his pace a she started to get up to meet him. "No, no, no. You stay put." He said firmly, though gently, lifting a hand to emphasize his words and she stopped her hard movements. "You didn't take your pills, did you?"
She sort of looked down, at her hands, suddenly feeling ashamed not knowing why. Receiving a reprimand for Martin was absolutely something she didn't want to. "I... I forgot."
She thought that he hadn't heard her because instead of walking to her he turned to the living room and disappeared for a moment while he bent in front of the couch to grab the bottle of pills from under the coffee table. "For crying out loud, Sam." He muttered and he made it obvious he did hear her. "I thought we had a deal." His voice held the slight hint of disappointment; that little bit that is half hidden half out in the open to make you notice it and feel bad for it.
"I was tired and went to bed without taking the pills, all right? I just forgot it." She spat at him, barely holding back the anger that was boiling up inside her.
He stopped in the middle of opening the bottle and sighed as he looked down at her. Regaining his temper again, he softened his gaze. "I'm not blaming you, OK? I just thought you'd have some good sense and tried to believe you could take care of yourself alone." Putting down the now open bottle and two white pills on the table, he went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of cold water. He handed her the glass and she thankfully took it as she hold the pills with her other hand. "But it seems you can't." He added.
She gulped down each pill with some water and put the glass on the table then looked now curious at him. "Oh, I can't? What do you mean I can't?"
"I mean, I'm staying with you from now on."
*
Yo, second chapter done! Woohoo. Review, pretty please :-)
Enjoy if you wish.
And don't forget to review. But please, no flames. Unless it's really necessary or a constructive criticism.
Thanks Lia for beta reading!
~*~
~A few days later~
She had called him like he had asked.
Martin came to visit Samantha a couple of times more, bringing contrabanded chocolate and McDonald's cookies. He'd have brought one of theirs BigMac hamburgers but then it would be a little difficult to get inside her room with so much stuff in his hands. It was wrong to bring her food that could make her ill or, well... make her healthy none the better. Especially with all the nurses and doctors around, checking on her all the time. But oh boy, the bright smile she gave him when she saw his little gifts was definitely worth the danger of coming through the hospital staff.
They had chatted for much more time since with her release coming closer there was no danger of tiring her with words. Her mouth would definitely not make her tired of speaking. Samantha had so much to talk about; so much to share with Martin that it actually surprised both of them. He never knew she one of talking so much, a blabbermouth. She wanted to know how everyone was doing even if each one of them had visited her before. She wanted to know how things were doing, how they were doing at work, how they were doing stuff without her.
Martin knew very well what she really wanted to know, which was if they were handling things well without her, if she was missed. She was silly of thinking they didn't care about her. He didn't know how she went on with those thoughts in her head. He said every one missed her and none could do things right, so she should get better soon so she could go back to work and put some order in there because they really needed her. She gave him a small smile and he couldn't know if she really believed him, he only hoped so.
And in one of those visits he remembered her to call him and let him know when she'd leave so he could come pick her up. She contested, told him it wasn't necessary, tried to keep her 'I-can-do-anything-alone' face but she did call him. She called him anyway and told him what day and what time she would leave. It made him happy. For the silliest thing he was happy.
Now he was in her bedroom waiting as she changed in the bathroom, hearing carefully each of her movements, worried that she could trip and fall over her leg. 'No' He thought, 'she wouldn't fall. Not Samantha.' No... Not this Samantha and even if she did, she would never let him know so, never let him see her down. Not again.
Martin glanced around, out of reflex, checking the room now that Sam's few stuff wasn't there anymore. The roses they sent to her weren't there anymore, the ruffled sheets on the bed weren't ruffled anymore and the empty bags of his contrabanded candies were in the garbage. Sam's bag with the few things Viv had brought from Sam's place was over the bed, already packed and closed.
Then he saw the crutches resting on the white wall. It was almost as white as the wall itself and if you didn't look right you could even miss it. He walked to there and took the crutches then knocked softly on the bathroom door. "Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You hanging good? You forgot your crutches here." He heard her soft, annoyed sigh at the end of his inquiry. He knew she was hating the idea of needing something to lean on, something other than herself to keep her going. She'd have to use these crutches for a long while, until her leg was good again and the idea of having to use them was despising to say the least.
She unlocked the door and stepped out, wearing a red top and black jeans. This time she had given in on her high heels to use comfortable sneakers. Her hand was heavily grasping the doorknob, using it as lifesaver to prevent her from falling to the floor. Her knuckles were turning white and her face held a very painful expression. He knew she was in pain and walking without any support was only making things worse.
He gently took her hand from the doorknob and held it tightly in his own as he handed her the crutches and helped her to use them. "Thanks." She said between clenched teeth, the pain in her leg sending a tingle through her whole body.
"Did you take your pills?"
"Yeah. I'll be fine in a few minutes." She said firmly, though her face didn't hold the same certainty her voice showed. She slowly walked to the bed and was about to grab the suitcase when Martin reached out and grabbed it first.
"How do you think you'll hold this bag with both hands occupied?"
"I can manage."
"No, you can't."
Even with the weak state she was in, Samantha still insisted on showing she was fine and she could do everything by herself. She was always so tough, brave, she always let people see only what she wanted them to see and seeing her weak wasn't one of those things. She knew she couldn't hold that bag, she knew Martin knew that and still she tried to show him he was wrong, even of he wasn't. She just didn't want people close enough. And letting Martin see Samantha's truly self, mean getting attached, letting him get too close and being close meant losing him. She didn't know why she felt like that, but she didn't want to lose him before she had gotten to really know him.
She had never been shot in her entire life. Sure, she had been hurt by a lot of other ways, a few she couldn't even think about, but being shot was a whole experience for her. A very unpleasant one. She always hated the pain but at the same time she liked the same pain inflicted on her because with the pain she had something to think about other than face the hard reality she lived in. It took her mind from the 'now' to the 'what if'.
Bullshit...
She let out a heavy deep sigh, one she was sure Martin would notice and see how much annoyed by the situation she was. Not that it would stop him from doing what he thought was honorable anyway. He gave her a sly smile and grabbed the bag then walked to the door, leaving Sam behind to walk by herself all the way.
He thought that maybe - just maybe - she would see she couldn't do all that by herself and ask his help, at least until they were out of the hospital and in the security of her apartment. He opened the door and turned to her, only to watch the stubbornness of the woman he so long worshipped stumble to him, trying to get used to the new crutches. Yup, she wouldn't ask for help. She'd even fall before searching for helpful hands.
Maybe she was stubborn but sure she was strong. He knew her leg was still hurting because the painkillers hadn't worked in her system yet and walking when she was in pain was a tough job, still she managed to do all by herself. And she really did. She made faces, took in sharp breathes, trembled even, but she walked all the way to the door without help. Except the crutches of course. When she reached him, Martin gave her a smile, which he hoped was bright, to let her know how much he was proud of her, of her being as strong as she was.
But just outside a nurse was waiting with a wheelchair and he knew they would argue a lot before leaving Sam walk out of the hospital. "Miss Spade." The nurse greeted formally.
Sam stared at her for a few seconds, not saying a word then her eyes fell to the wheelchair and she made a face. "I can walk, thank you."
"Sit, Samantha. Now." Martin said with a soft but resolute voice. Samantha looked at him with her expression that always made people turn their heads down and she'd be with her hands on her hips if they weren't holding the crutches. Martin held her look, daring her with the same stubbornness she had and sensing this time he wouldn't give up and knowing she should put less weight over her leg, she sat very heavily on the chair.
Martin took her crutches and walked beside her wheelchair as the nurse pushed it out of the hospital.
*
She woke up that same night she came home, with a sharp pain in her leg. Sleep had come very hard to her and when she had finally gotten to sleep her leg started to hurt and now it was hurting so much that it actually awakened her.
Sam groaned in anger as she gingerly got up to find her pills. All she wanted was a good night's sleep in her own bed with her own things. She had slept at the hospital for too long and the comfort of her soft bed was highly welcoming. The smell of her fresh clean sheets gave her a sense of peace and made her forget about the sterile smell of hospital sheets. Her bed looked so inviting. If only her leg wasn't hurting...
"Goddamn it." She muttered, using her good leg to step on the cold floor. She really needed to put a carpet in her bedroom. Using her good leg was easy but her problem was to get up fully and grab the crutches. She had been stupid enough to forget her bottle of pills over the coffee table instead of taking it to her bedroom with her. And she had been even more stupid to forget taking the two pills she was supposed to in every four hours.
Well, now she had the pain to remember her that.
As she reached the threshold of the bedroom door her breath was short and quick and she thought she'd faint any minute at how fast her heart was beating. She tried to concentrate on getting to the living room instead of the pain increasing in her leg. And because of the pain she had to walk slower, put less movement on her leg, what was making it harder to get to the coffee table and take her pills.
When she finally found her way to the living room her cheeks were already stained with hot tears. She tried to blink away the pooling liquid but all that that move made was to make more tears come out of her eyes. She was hurting and she couldn't take it anymore and that thought almost made her melt into the couch, but too worried with her leg she sat carefully. She let go of the crutches and with trembling fingers she reached for the bottle of pills but since her fingers seemed to have life of their own, instead of holding the bottle, she let it fall to floor, rolling under the coffee table.
"You fucking thing." She muttered angrily. How could she bend under the table to get that if she had that little thing going on in her leg? Hurting as much as she was, even moving her leg to rest on the coffee table was too much. How could she go under the coffee table then? "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
She had the idea of using one of the crutches to push the bottle back to her, so she grabbed it and pulled one end under the table, turning her head to look as she did so. But to her great luck it pushed the bottle further from her. Angry with herself she punched the crutch on the table with all the strength her disabled state allowed at that moment, making loud sounds echo through her apartment and the wood of the coffee table crack slightly..
She had only two options, one, bending down under the coffee table and hurting her leg even more or two, calling Martin and ask for his help.
And truth be told, she didn't like either.
But as she thought about her options and looked at the cordless phone lying on the couch she knew she could do only one thing.
*
"Sam?" She heard his voice ten minutes later; feeling like all her problems could vanish with the simple fact he was around. That maybe having Martin near her would make the pain go away. She thought that the soft tone of his voice had the ability of catching her attention and making her concentrate on something else than what she was supposed to. It could work with the pain, right?
She had gotten up earlier to unlock the door and wait for Martin but since the pain in her leg was too much she could not handle staying up any longer so she pulled out one of her dinner table chair and sat heavily on it. She tried to sing, to do read a lost magazine over the table, anything that could make her forget the pain. She even tried massaging the flesh around her injury but ended with not a lot of good results.
Then she only prayed Martin would come soon.
And now, hearing his voice was like God was listening to her. She had never been so relieved for someone helping her like she was the instant Martin's voice reached her ears. "It's open." She said with all the strength she could muster.
He slowly pushed the door open and walked inside, searching for ay sign of a still alive Samantha. She had called him this late with a voice so weak and she seemed to be crying. He had never seen Samantha crying but in less than two weeks this had happened twice. He wondered if she'd forgive herself for showing any 'sign of weakness' to someone else when she wanted only to seem tough and strong and controlled.
The first thing he saw was the brightness of her wetted face under the cold streetlights and the soft caress of the moonlight. Her face was slightly glistening though her hard attempts to dry it, to wipe away any evidence she might have been crying. He felt his heart ache from the simple thought that she could be in pain and he wasn't there to stop it. Maybe he wasn't but she had trusted him enough to call and ask for his help now that she actually was in pain.
Selfishly he felt that stupid want to smile.
She was sitting heavily and uncomfortable on the chair and visibly in pain. He hurried his pace a she started to get up to meet him. "No, no, no. You stay put." He said firmly, though gently, lifting a hand to emphasize his words and she stopped her hard movements. "You didn't take your pills, did you?"
She sort of looked down, at her hands, suddenly feeling ashamed not knowing why. Receiving a reprimand for Martin was absolutely something she didn't want to. "I... I forgot."
She thought that he hadn't heard her because instead of walking to her he turned to the living room and disappeared for a moment while he bent in front of the couch to grab the bottle of pills from under the coffee table. "For crying out loud, Sam." He muttered and he made it obvious he did hear her. "I thought we had a deal." His voice held the slight hint of disappointment; that little bit that is half hidden half out in the open to make you notice it and feel bad for it.
"I was tired and went to bed without taking the pills, all right? I just forgot it." She spat at him, barely holding back the anger that was boiling up inside her.
He stopped in the middle of opening the bottle and sighed as he looked down at her. Regaining his temper again, he softened his gaze. "I'm not blaming you, OK? I just thought you'd have some good sense and tried to believe you could take care of yourself alone." Putting down the now open bottle and two white pills on the table, he went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of cold water. He handed her the glass and she thankfully took it as she hold the pills with her other hand. "But it seems you can't." He added.
She gulped down each pill with some water and put the glass on the table then looked now curious at him. "Oh, I can't? What do you mean I can't?"
"I mean, I'm staying with you from now on."
*
Yo, second chapter done! Woohoo. Review, pretty please :-)