Chapter 18 – The Intruder
Tuesday Night, June 1, 2004

Martin and Samantha were still sitting on the couch. Martin's hand caressed Samantha's back, helping calm her, and willing her not to speak. He needed to give her time to digest this information. He had had several days and just the thought of that hole in the ground that was to be her grave still terrified him.

She couldn't get Mariouchi's face out of her mind. She spoke as if to no one, her words muffled by Martin's shirt as her head was pressed tightly to his chest, "I keep seeing him, standing over me, with a look of ownership in his eyes. Every time I close my eyes it's that face that I see."

As he held her he felt how cold she had gotten. In the span of just a few minutes, he realized how much the news had affected her and believed that she was going into shock. He realized that he had to be strong, strong for Samantha because she needed him, now more than ever. He spoke, "You're freezing, go into your room and climb under the covers." His sentences were commands, orders to her so that she would follow them without question. "I'll make dinner and bring it into you."

Martin realized that he still had his suit jacket on and he took it off and laid it on a chair. He felt the weight of the gun on his belt, but instead of being a burden it was a comfort. He pulled out the pots and pans to make dinner and had just put water on the stove to boil when he heard it--Samantha's shriek. She did not scream words, but shrill tones of shear panic with terrifying intensity.

He raced to the bedroom, drawing his gun as he ran. He stopped in the shadows outside her bedroom door. Slowly he peeked inside and a chill ran through his spine. There standing in Samantha's bedroom was Mariouchi, pointing a gun at Samantha. Samantha had apparently just crawled into bed surrounded by a sea of blankets and pillows, no weapons in sight. Mariouchi did not speak, he did not move, he simply glared at Samantha with pure hate in his eyes.

Martin knew that he had to get Mariouchi's attention away from Samantha. He hoped that she hadn't frozen in terror. He kept his body behind cover, but crouched low and aimed his gun at Mariouchi, then yelled, "Scumbag, over here." Ok so it wasn't the greatest line in the world, but his brain wasn't functioning at its normal level. Instead of having the desired effect, Martin's words must have enraged or frightened Mariouchi who fired his gun. Martin's first instinct was to go to Samantha, find out if she was okay, but he squelched that need and fired two rapid shots into Mariouchi's chest.

Samantha heard Martin's words directed toward the thug in her bedroom, she reacted in a split second by rolling off the bed, narrowly being missed by Mariouchi's shot. She slid open the top drawer of her dresser where she kept her gun. She was glad that she hadn't used the safe the agency had gotten her. She heard Martin's shots and turning saw Mariouchi fire another round, this one closer to where she was crouched.

Martin's shots seemed to have no effect at all. Mariouchi stood tall, unfazed, but his gun had found a new target. He was aiming at the door, towards Martin. Samantha's training took over, she carefully aimed her gun at Mariouchi's chest and fired two shots in rapid succession, followed by a third shot to the head. Mariouchi's head was thrown back and his body slammed into the wall behind him. Blood began trailing down his face in small rivers, he fired another shot, but there was no target it was only the reflex of a dying man. His body slid down the wall until it rested, slumped in an awkward, prone position. Samantha's head turned toward Martin, he had come into the room during the gunfight, but appeared to be unscathed. Without taking his eyes off of Mariouchi, he called out pleadingly, "Sam, are you okay? Were you hit?"

Samantha could hear the urgency in his voice although he tried to sound calm. She turned back to Mariouchi's body and responded, "I'm fine, he missed, all of his shots missed me."

Finally, Martin glanced over at Samantha, he could see the tension in her body, she was still poised for action. He motioned for Samantha to climb over the bed and toward the door, she reached him and he instinctively put his arm around her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She allowed him to envelop her in his arm and she buried her face into his chest. She concentrated on her breathing and slowly, silently she began to sob. At first, it was two lonely tears that disappeared into the cloth of Martin's shirt, but soon her body was shuddering by the force of the emotions coming out of her. The emotion from all the times that she had wanted to be strong and had forced the tears to remain inside her were flowing out of her body into the one person she let see her vulnerable.

Martin, without lowering his gun or his guard, allowed Samantha to lean on him. He could feel the tension release with every breath she took in. He knew he needed to call the police, but he also knew that she needed this, needed this release. Finally, he felt her breathing return to normal and she pulled her face away from his sopping shirt. The Samantha he knew had returned, she spoke clearly, "We should call the police, I want him out of my apartment and out of my life for good." Samantha moved out of the room to the phone in the kitchen. Martin still had not lowered his gun and was watching not only the unmoving body, but the window through which he had entered.

Samantha returned to Martin's side and before long they heard the familiar and welcoming sirens of cop cars. Samantha let the police in and finally Martin was able to let down his guard. He realized that he had been sweating and was cold from the breeze coming in through the open window. An officer beckoned Martin and Samantha to follow him into the living room, he needed to find out what had happened. One of the detectives interrupted by saying, "Agents, you know policy, anytime there's a shooting I need to confiscate the weapons involved. I need your guns."

Samantha and Martin knew the drill, they were not to surrender their weapons to anyone except their supervisor, therefore, Jack would have to be called to the scene. Samantha had forgotten about her relationship, could she call it that, with Jack during the commotion, but now she wondered how he'd react knowing that she'd been in grave danger and had shot and killed a man. Martin was thinking about Jack's arrival too, he wondered how Samantha would respond to Jack now, knowing that she had been as close to death as she ever had been. Martin looked at the detective and told him to make the call to Jack Malone.

Jack arrived as Samantha was giving her statement of the events of the evening. The police had split Martin and Samantha up in order to get independent recollections of the night. Jack approached Martin in the kitchen and Martin tensed for what he assumed would be a confrontation.

Jack looked tired and worried and scared all at the same time. Martin caught a reflection of himself in a mirror near the entryway and realized that he had the same look as Jack. He figured out that the look must be inherent when someone you care about is or has been in danger. He thought, for the first time, that perhaps Jack wasn't being as selfish as he'd thought, that maybe, just maybe he really did have genuine feelings for Samantha; that she hadn't been just a distraction to him during his marriage. Caught up with those thoughts Martin spoke, "Jack, she's alright, she'd going to be alright."

Jack looked at Martin, not as a boss, but as a man who felt like he'd almost lost everything in one night. "I don't know Martin. So much has been put upon her lately, I just don't know how much she can bear."

"Jack, you've got to believe in her. She's strong and she knows it. Yeah, she needs to let someone in … people in more often, but she's going to bounce back. Mark my words, she will get past this." As Martin spoke, Jack saw Samantha step into the room behind Martin. She heard Martin's words which were full of confidence in her and her heart swelled with pride? … with joy? … with love? She didn't know, she didn't know what to think and before she could try to think, Jack was across the room. He threw his arms around her and she could tell he was crying himself.

Martin watched the embrace and knew that he couldn't leave tonight without telling Samantha, without telling her everything he felt for her. But before he could speak, the detective came into the room and informed Martin that they were ready for him. He didn't want to leave, didn't want to leave Samantha alone with Jack. Afraid of what might happen between them without him present, but he had no choice. He followed the detective out of the room and left Samantha alone with the man who was, not his boss, but his rival in love.

TBC