I have a few potential WAT fics floating around my mind at the moment, this is my first one. Having just watched the first season on dvd, I immediately wanted to write a post Fallout fic and catch up with the guys after the case wrapped up. This fic references many of the events of the first season and I'm the first to admit that it's a 'busy' story, the aim was to get a sense of where the team where at after that first year together. Mostly features my favourite character Danny. All feedback, good, bad and indifferent is gladly received!! Here goes...
Keeping Watch.
Special Agent Danny Taylor stepped into the elevator. Leaning against the smooth mirrored wall, he glanced at his watch.
6am.
Twenty hours since Sydney Harrison's abduction. It had been an excruciatingly long day for her, bound and terrified in a dark, damp cellar. For the team, the day had been equally frantic. One of his worst in the unit. The tense hunt for Sydney, the drop at the bookstore, the hostage situation, the gunshots, those terrible gunshots and the awful, stomach wrenching confirmation that one of their own had been hit.
Sam's been hit.
Martin had told him, quickly, tersely.
We don't know how bad. Let Viv know, all right? I gotta go.
Sickened, Danny agreed and hung up, gut churning. He pocketed his cellphone and turned to walk slowly toward the car. Flinging the door open, Danny swung inside, struggling to control his racing mind.
Sam's been shot. Viv is checking out the mother in law. You have to let her know. I'll run down the leads on the attorney. Sam's been shot. That bastard shot her.
He gunned the engine and glanced at the side mirror, waiting to slip the car into the steady stream of traffic that was heading back to the city. The agent drummed his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, thoughts completely captivated by images of his wounded friend.
They'll get you out Sam, he promised silently, We'll get you out.
"Sir?"
The stranger's voice jerked him back to the present. A young, weary eyed doctor had joined Danny into the elevator and was now regarding the agent with faint impatience. Satisfied that he had the other man's attention, the doctor nodded toward the control panel.
"Which floor?"
"Floor?"
The doctor glared at him. "Yeah," he answered irritably, "The elevator doesn't go anywhere unless you choose a floor."
Danny eyed him tiredly. An elevator trip with Dr Wiseass, that's just what he needed right now. Straightening slightly, Danny glanced at the buttons. "I'm not sure," he said with a slight shrug, "Surgical, I guess. My friend's been shot. She'd be on the surgical wards, right?"
The doctor paused and raked a probing gaze over the federal agent.
Probably wondering how a nicely dressed guy ends up knowing gunshot victims, Danny thought silently, lucky bastard. I hope you don't ever know my kind of day.
"Surgical ward, right?" he repeated.
The doctor eyed him uncertainly. "When was she shot?"
"About ten hours ago."
Nodding, the younger man reached out and punched button four. "Then she'll be in post-op observation." The elevator jerked in sudden motion and began an upward climb through the hospital. The doctor glanced sideways as it slowed to a halt, "I hope your friend's okay."
Danny nodded in silent acknowledgement, his eyes fixed on the doors. "She will be."
The doors swished open with a gentle hiss. Leaving the intern behind, Danny stepped out and quickly glanced around the reception area of the ward. A dimly lit nursing station lay straight ahead. Two young nurses were planted behind the desk, engrossed in deep conversation and entirely oblivious to the approaching agent.
"Excuse me."
The nurses jumped, their eyes shooting upward. One of them caught a breath and found her voice. "Yes?"
Danny smiled apologetically and jabbed a thumb toward the main ward. "I'm looking for Samantha Spade, I understand that she's in a room up here?"
The nurse eyed him carefully. "And you are?"
"I'm Special Agent Danny Taylor, with the F.B.I." He reached into his pocket and extradited his badge. He laid it on the desk for her momentary inspection. Pocketing it again, Danny squinted at her name tag. "So Grace, how about you tell me where I'll find Agent Spade?"
Grace returned an apologetic smile. "Actually, one of your colleagues is already with Samantha. What she really needs is rest right now, not visitors."
Danny frowned, "Someone is with her? Who?"
Grace glanced around the desk and reached for a blue folder. Flipping it open, she trailed her finger down the first page. "Martin Fitzgerald. He arrived an hour ago and replaced the first agent you people sent over." The nurse nodded toward the elevators, "Why don't you call in tomorrow and we'll let you know how she's doing?"
Danny didn't budge. "Thanks, but I'd rather see for myself."
Grace sighed and lowered the folder. "Mr Taylor, I really must insist..."
"Special Agent Taylor," Danny interrupted sharply. It had been a long day of dealing with everybody else's names and titles. City cops, negotiators, swat guys, detectives, now nurses and doctors. It was about time he used his own. "Special Agent Taylor of the F.B.I. Comprende?" Temper rising, he leaned closer "So let's get something straight here, Grace. I'm a federal agent. I don't need your permission to see anyone in this damn hospital, least of all Agent Spade. Now I am asking you, one last time, where is she?"
Grace tilted back on her heels and regarded him thoughtfully. She had dealt with many anxious relatives and friends in her five years of nursing practice. Some of them had waved badges around too. This young man, supremely confident with his dark eyed, unwavering gaze would, she guessed silently, certainly be a challenge. She could sense his determination, his implacable resolve to see his friend. It would be easier to give in and simply keep a closer watch on Room Four.
"All right," Grace said, making her decision, "I'll walk you there." She circled the desk as Danny pushed himself from the counter and began to follow her. A half step ahead, Grace paused suddenly and rounded on the federal agent. "But first, let's just you and I get something straight Agent Taylor. I understand that your fancy identification gives you a little more leeway than most other people around here but Samantha is my patient." Grace pointed a finger toward his chest, "That makes her my responsibility and I won't hesitate to haul your federal ass out of there quicker than you can read me my rights," she arched a warning eyebrow, "Comprende?"
Danny glanced down at her finger, then raised a glance of mild warning. He waited as Grace followed his train of vision. Clearing her throat, she dropped the offending finger and folded her arms self consciously. "I mean it," she said, her voice dropping a pitch.
The agent grinned, despite himself. Few people were openly defiant of a federal agent, most, in fact tended to wilt at the first sight of his credentials and it was always refreshing to meet someone with a little spark. Especially when that someone looked particularly well in a nurse's uniform. "I get it," he said, allowing a hint of conciliation settle in his tone as he waved a hand ahead, "Shall we go?"
Grace eyed him uncertainly, unsure if she had won her battle. She evidently decided to claim victory for with a slight smile of triumph, she turned heel and stalked away, leaving Danny to catch up. They turned a corner and walked through a hallway, past the crash carts and small nursing trays, finally pausing outside Room Four.
"Okay." Grace said in a hushed voice. "Samantha is less than six hours out of theatre so please, just let her rest."
Listening carefully, Danny nodded in agreement and shifted his attention toward the small room. "Thank you," he said, glancing back at the nurse, "We, we all appreciate what you guys have done for her."
"Well, just don't mess it up." Grace warned him, flashing a final smile at him. She moved down the hallway, beginning a room check. Danny watched as she slipped into the next room, his eyes drifting back to the quiet hospital room. From the doorway, through the glass panel, he could see Sam lying in bed, attached to a variety of blinking monitors, the slow rise and fall of her chest was gentle and even. Dull morning light was attempting to penetrate through the thick, drawn blinds. At the far side of the room, through the half darkness, Danny spotted Martin. He was squashed into a small plastic chair, his long legs sprawled out, head tilted uncomfortably against the wall. Easing the door open, Danny slipped inside and allowed it to slide quietly closed behind him.
Neither stirred.
Neither needed him there, not right now.
Maybe I need to be here, Danny thought, dismissing the sensible voice that suggested he should go home and return refreshed in the morning, Maybe I need to be with them.
Spying another equally uncomfortable chair beside the bedside locker, Danny carefully lifted it and placed it beside the bed. He sank into it and settled back, keeping watch.
Sam grew restless in sleep. She moved uneasily, her expression tightening, troubled by some far away thoughts. Danny watched her carefully and was considering calling for Grace, when suddenly, her eyes snapped open. Sam shot a terrified gaze around the darkened room, her breathing shallow and increasingly panicked.
"Hey," Danny was on his feet in an instant, his hand reaching for hers. "Sam, it's Danny. It's okay. It's okay." The agent waited for her frightened eyes to find him among the unfamiliar surroundings. He wound his fingers around her own and squeezed her hand in warm comfort, "It's all right, Sam. We've got you. We've got you."
On the far side of the bed, Martin was wrestling his way out of the chair. Freeing himself, he stumbled toward them pausing as Danny lifted a hand and motioned above the bed. Martin turned in momentary confusion, before stepping forward to pull a small dangling cord. An overhead light flickered to life and Martin stepped back, reluctant to crowd his distressed friend.
"Danny?" Sam managed breathlessly, her eyes racing frantically around the room, "What's happening? Where am I?"
Danny leaned closer, forcing her to focus on his face. "Sam? Sam listen to me." He instinctively drew upon the same forcefulness that served him so well in the interrogation room. It worked now, for Sam transferred a distracted gaze toward him.
"Okay, okay. Just take a long deep breath for me. Come on Sam," He maintained steady eye contact, keeping his voice calm and firm, watching as Sam struggled to slow her breathing. "Good girl. I'm right here. Martin is too." Danny nodded across the bed, "See?"
His words registered and Sam turned her pale face toward Martin. He had taken a step forward and was now hunched by her bed, a characteristically warm smile brightening his expression. "Hey there."
"Hey," Sam managed a weak smile of her own. She glanced between them, her thoughts clearly unsettled as she struggled to regain some sense of equilibrium. Above her, the two men exchanged a quick look, silently agreeing to give her some time.
Sam took a long steadying breath. "Okay, so does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?"
Danny grinned at that familiar no nonsense tone and turned to pull his chair a little closer. Sinking back into it, he nodded encouragingly at Martin.
You were with her all the way buddy. Guess you should fill her in on the rest of the story.
Nodding in quick concurrence, Martin shifted his keen attention to Samantha. "Remember the bookstore?" he asked, resting a hand lightly on her trembling arm.
Sam flinched. Memories flooded her as she remembered the long day, the tension and trauma and the final hours of agonising, terrible pain. Her face crumpled in silent grief and she squeezed her eyes shut, finding some silent strength to ask, "Jack?"
"He's out," Martin said softly, mindful of the fear in her voice. His fingers drew small soothing circles on her skin. "Everyone got out safe. Unharmed."
She glanced back at him. "Barry?"
"Jack convinced him to come out. He's fine. Everyone's fine." Martin cocked his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers, conveying simple honesty. "Including you. It was a through and through. The docs have patched you up and they say you'll be on your feet in no time. Not bad for a college girl."
She shook her head, suddenly vehement, "No."
"No?"
"I messed up Martin." Sam said shakily, shooting a distressed look toward Danny. "I really messed up. Richard, he saw me hide the gun. I should have made a move. I should never have let him anywhere near it."
"Sam."
"He could have killed one of the others."
"Sam..."
"If that kid was still there. God, he would have just..."
"Samantha." Martin's voice grew firm, unyielding. He kept his eyes fixed on her pale, drawn face, "Cut it out, all right? You're going to have a lot of time to think this thing through but you did everything you could, everything anyone could. You need to know that Jack, Viv, this guy and I? We're all proud of you. We're proud to work with you. We're proud to know you and we're glad as hell we got you out in one piece."
Danny tilted forward and slipped a hand to Sam's cheek, wiping away a rogue tear that was trickling down her cheek. "He's right Sam," he murmured softly, his expression growing mischievous, "and he's the son of an assistant deputy director so you better believe him."
"Damn right," Martin said softly, enjoying Sam's tired half chuckle. "Now just lay back, kiddo and get some rest. There'll be an agent with you when you wake up."
"You don't have to do that..." Sam eased back against her pillow, her eyes fluttering slowly.
"Sure we do," Danny murmured as Martin quietly settled back in his own chair. They sat quietly, silent, as sleep reclaimed her. Danny was about to suggest he make a quick trip to the hospital canteen when a tired voice asked from the bed.
"Did we get Sydney?"
Across the bed, Danny and Martin exchanged bemused glances.
"This is an admirable display of duty, Agent Spade." Danny said, "Yes, we got Sydney. She's fine. Now go to sleep."
A smile curled on her lips, fading as she drifted back into sleep. Grace appeared a few moments later. She checked on Samantha, scribbled some notes in the chart hanging from the end of the bed and eyed the two agents probingly.
"Either of you feel like a coffee?"
Danny shifted in his chair. "Grace, you're an angel. A gift from God, a true..."
"Agent Taylor, take a leaf out of your partner's book." Grace pointed her pen toward Martin, "We prefer his type around here."
Danny snorted, "Perfectly starched, skinny, bleached white guys?"
"Try well built, intelligent, polite..." Grace corrected as she left. She lingered in the doorway, firing a teasing look toward Danny, "Did I mention sexy?"
"You need to get one of those doctors to check you out," Danny advised her solemnly as she padded out of the room, "You're clearly very unwell."
Grace left, laughing quietly to herself. True to her word, a nursing attendant arrived a few moments later carrying a tray with coffee and an assortment of sandwiches. She lowered it to the metal tray crossing the end of Sam's bed and shot a shy smile at the grateful agents. She had barely left the room when two sets of hands snaked toward the tray of food. Martin and Danny sat in companionable silence, munching contentedly. Propping his feet at the edge of Sam's bed, Danny gulped down some coffee, watching in silent amusement as Martin devoured the remaining sandwiches.
"You know Martin, if you ever go missing, we'll be sure to check every eating establishment in the city. Starting with the all you can eat buffets."
"Hey," Martin defended himself through a mouthful of turkey sandwich, "It's called a healthy appetite alright?"
"Yeah," Danny refilled his coffee and settled back, mug cupped in two hands, small curls of steam rising to warm his face. His eyes drifted back to the still form in the bed, "Man, this is going to be a real tough road back for her."
"In more ways than one." Mild worry dug into Martin's gaze. "You know how she is. Has to be on top, all the time. Always proving herself. Always sharp."
Danny smiled tiredly. "You noticed that too, huh?"
"It's hard not to." Martin shrugged, "She's going to find it hard to accept help getting back on her feet."
"Well, I guess she'll have to." Danny said. "Jack will take care of that. And we'll take care of her."
Martin eyed him wryly, "She'll love that."
Danny drained the last of his coffee and shared a quick grin with his partner. "She'll go nuts. If she catches the faintest hint that we're keeping a subtle eye on her..."
"Jack giving her light assignments," Martin added, equally bemused.
"And keeping her partnered."
"Even for research."
"You know what," Danny said with sudden solemnity, "Remind me to take a week's vacation when she gets back."
"You and me both," Scraping his chair back, Martin uselessly tried to rearrange himself in it. "Damn thing," he muttered, pushing his jacket behind his back in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position. He settled again, "Danny?"
"Yeah?"
"You really think she'll come through okay?"
Danny smiled slightly. There was a quiet emotion in Martin's voice, a hint of the regard he held for Samantha. Martin was worried about her, just as much as the rest of them. When Martin Fitzgerald arrived for his first day in the unit, almost a year ago, Danny wasn't sure he'd ever be capable of that kind of caring. That kind of investment in the team, in the people you worked with. Danny had figured him for a climber and the Missing Person's Unit just another rung on the ladder leading to Washington. Those first few months, he steadfastly maintained that first impression, even when Sam and even Viv began to warm to the new arrival.
Not Danny.
He worked alongside Fitzgerald whenever Jack told him to. They followed up leads, ran down tips, partnered for interviews, whatever needed to be done. Danny worked alongside him, but never with him. He didn't bounce ideas off him, never tested burgeoning theories with him but instead kept a polite, cool distance. A guy like Fitzgerald, Danny had decided early on, wouldn't think twice about trampling all over him to clamber his way to the top. He warned Sam too. She, with predictable bluntness, told him he was being a paranoid, territorial idiot.
"What are you afraid of Danny? That he'll actually prove himself? That maybe you'll just have to accept that someone like him can cut it as an agent?" She smiled teasingly, "Jeez, I guess that would mean you'd have to retire those prejudices of yours." Nudging him affectionately with a case-paper, Sam slipped past, leaving him disgruntled and unsettled behind.
As though on cue, Jack had hauled him into the office a little later. "Look Danny, you're going to have to do better with Fitzgerald."
"Jack" Danny shrugged defensively, his hands palmed outward, "I'm working with guy. What, I have to be President of his fanclub too?"
"You're going through the motions, Danny. You're not making him feel like part of the team." Jack eyed his headstrong young agent darkly, "I want him to feel like part of the team. Got it?"
Danny released a long frustrated breath. With considerable effort, he managed a curt nod, "I got it Jack. I got it."
The trip to San Diego helped a little. Away from the office, Martin didn't seem like such a stuffed shirt. He worked that case well, handling all the angles and the rapidly changing situation with admirable skill. Much to Danny's surprise, the guy actually had a sense of humor. He even took a few pot shots at his father, with a few comments about power hungry politicians in the bureau. All in all, he was good company. They got back to the office and slowly, but surely, their friendship grew and strengthened.
It wasn't all on Danny's terms either. Just when he thought he'd got a handle on Fitzgerald, the guy would surprise him. Like the time he roughed up Radio in the interview, Martin really let him have it. Danny hadn't thought Martin had it in him, but once they got outside of that interrogation room, the other agent really went for it. He warned him that if he pulled a stunt like that again, there would be trouble. And standing in that hallway, recognising the anger in his partner's unwavering gaze, Danny believed him. And respected him for it. Any lingering doubts about Martin were buried during the OPR review, with a few sharp words from Sam.
They were sitting around the table in the bullpen, discussing the review that was apparently designed to rid the team of Jack Malone.
"It's not that I don't like the guy, Sam." Danny looked at her, keen to stress the point, "It's just how do you trust someone who shakes hands with an OPR guy and rings Daddy in Washington straight after? He's down there now, you know."
"I know." Sam said, her voice strained. "Danny, he flew down there this morning to tell his father to back off. Martin has it in his head that somehow he's brought this all on Jack and that the OPR guy is trying to use him to bring Jack down. He's told the OPR guy to stuff it and now he's bringing the same message to Washington. So tell me Danny, what the hell is your problem?"
Danny sat in momentary silence. "I didn't know that."
"That's because you didn't ask," Sam said, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice. "You just assumed. God, Danny you've made it hard for Martin to settle in this whole year and he's gone along with it, letting you play top dog whenever you feel the need, only pulling on your leash when you take it too far." She leaned closer and aware of the glances of interest they were attracting from other agents, lowered her tone a little, "Martin's the one trying to save Jack's ass, while you're going around running your mouth off." Sam eyed him meaningfully. "Martin's part of the team, Danny. Where the hell are you these days?"
That's all it had taken. One illuminating conversation with the painfully honest Samantha Spade. Danny had felt about one inch high afterward, her stinging admonishment forcing him to face his unwarranted treatment of Martin. Sam was right. Yet to catch the guy out, Danny insisted on acting like he was just about to. He fixed Sam a coffee, shot her an apologetic look and waited for her small, conciliatory smile.
"I'll fix things, okay?" Danny murmured by her desk.
"Okay," she said with a half nod, "I'll trust you."
Danny fixed things. Martin got back and Danny cracked a joke about sticking together as a team if the OPR guys got their way. Martin paused a moment and then with his usual grace, accepted the olive branch, suggesting they start a shoe business. In retrospect, that was the part Danny felt worst about. After a year of good solid work and loyal friendship, he had turned around and accused Fitzgerald of being a rat and all it just took one lame joke to earn his forgiveness, to heal the betrayal. That night, as they laboured over some reports, Danny quizzed him about it.
"If you're pissed at me, Martin, just say. I mean, I was way out of line and you're entitled to be pissed."
Martin lifted a querulous gaze from his paperwork. "I'm not pissed Danny."
Flummoxed, Danny shook his head. "I don't get it."
"I do," Martin said slowly, "I get it all the time, ever since I joined the bureau. Suspicions about my motives, assumptions that I'm clinging to Daddy's coat-tails, that all I want is some big desk job in Washington." The agent grimaced, resignation shadowing his face. "I understand why people think that way and I've also learned there's nothing I can do to change that."
Danny digested this slowly, for the first time catching a glimpse of the lonely nature of Martin's career. Always on the sidelines, never quite part of the team. Until, Danny decided, with sudden and complete conviction, until now.
"You shouldn't have to change anyone." Danny said abruptly, "It's not your problem they can't see you're a stand up guy, Martin." He glanced up thoughtfully, suddenly eager to assure him that he belonged. No catches, no clauses. He was in. "Your team know it Martin, they know the kind of guy you are. Just took them a bit of time, that's all."
Martin held his partner's gaze, accepting the silent, heartfelt apology and the promise of a new trust. "Thank you," he said meaningfully, "Thank you."
"No problem," Danny shifted in his seat awkwardly. "And as for that idiot that's been giving you a hard time?" He grinned, "He's off the payroll."
Martin laughed, "I'm glad to hear it."
"His replacement is a great guy though," Danny continued without a shred of modesty, "Well dressed, great physique, popular with the ladies..."
"Yeah, I hear he looks a lot like you too," Martin said wryly, pushing a stack of reports toward his partner, "So how about you get stuck into those, Valentino."
They had come, Danny mused in the hospital room, full circle this past year. They were a tighter team than they had ever been, impenetrable as even OPR had found. Martin had learned the ropes, Jack had been through the mill, Sam had been hit, Viv had held them altogether and Danny, well, he had found the closest thing to family he had ever known. More than he ever expected.
"She'll come through Martin," Danny found his voice and finally answered his friend's questions, seeking to calm the quiet anxiety that gnawed away at his friend. "She's part of the team, remember?" He cocked an eyebrow and watched at Martin's head jerked up, their gazes locking.
"Yeah," Martin said with a slow nod of understanding. "I remember."
"Good because I'm not the sentimental type. I can't keep reminding you of this stuff. It's not good for my image."
"You don't have an image Danny. Just an overactive imagination."
"Hey, no need to be jealous Martin. Every team needs a hot, sexy agent. Just like they need the number crunching types, like you."
The banter continued until they finally fell into a comfortable, lazy silence as Samantha slept between them and the morning grew brighter.
"What the hell are you two doing here?" A voice from the doorway startled them, both men jerking awkwardly in their chairs.
"Viv," Danny creaked his neck, "That you?"
"Yes, it's me." The senior agent strolled into the room, looking from one man to the other, "Have you two been here all night? You must be exhausted"
"Technically, all morning." Martin said.
"Shut up Martin." Vivian pointed a stern finger at him, "Shut up, stand up, gather your things and go on home. You too, Taylor."
The pair raised tired protests but the older agent remained firm. "I've had six hours sleep. Reggie is staying with his grandmother for the weekend so I can spend the morning with Samantha. Jack is going to swing by at lunchtime and if, only if, you two have grabbed at least eight hours sleep, you can drop in this evening. We'll have someone posted here in between. Eight hours minimum, all right? Don't forget, we're all back at work on Monday, short one agent."
"Yes Mom." Danny flashed a wide smile at Viv, leaning down to peck her cheek as he passed, enjoying her immediate squawk of protest. "Come on Martin, you can treat me to breakfast."
"How about you paying for once in a while?"
"Martin, I can't afford to cover the food you eat."
"More like you can't afford to eat what I eat. Getting a little flabby lately, aren't we?"
Listening to their departing conversation, Vivian grinned and shook her head. Eying the small chair with reluctance, she sat down, eyes flickering to her sleeping friend. Jack sounded good on the phone, the boys were on their way home, Samantha was healing. Satisfied, content, Vivian settled back.
They'd come through.
The End.