Martin took the phone away from his ear and pressed the off button. Perhaps she had already arrived at work and was busy? Or maybe she had just not heard it ring? Either way, it was nothing to be worried about. After all, he'd only phoned to check what time she was going to be back after work, or at least that's what he told himself, although deep down he knew it was simply to hear the sound of her voice. He sighed.

Humming slightly to himself, he walked out of the room and into the kitchen; ready to cook himself some nice breakfast. The phone rang.

"Fitzgerald," he answered the phone in the usual way.

"Hey Martin, this is a silly question, but have you seen Sam this morning?" Vivian Johnson's voice came through the other end.

Martin grabbed some bacon and sausages from the fridge, the phone resting between his shoulder and his head.

"Sure, she uh phoned me about an hour ago, said she was running a little late. Is she not at work?" Sam and he had decided to keep their relationship secret, or at least for now.

"No. None of us have seen her… we've got a case on. We need her… I don't suppose you could come in? It's a big one,"

Martin opened the oven door and took out a plate. Putting it down on the counter, he unwrapped the meat.

"Sure, I suppose. I'm sure Sam will be in soon though," Martin thought it was strange that she wasn't there already, but he didn't say anything, "and then I can go home, right?"

"Of course you can. Thanks a lot Martin. We'll see you in about half an hour?"

"Yup, see ya then Viv," he hung up, deciding to abandon his breakfast and grab a coffee on the way.

-------------

Dressed and ready for work, Martin got into his car, feeling a little worried about Samantha, but also slightly annoyed at having to go in on his day off. Automatically, he turned his car radio on, something he did every morning.

"The four men are said to have climbed aboard the train on its fifth stop, just a few miles from its destination. Witnesses say that none of the passengers seem in much danger, as the men who are armed with rifles, pistols and shot guns. One woman, however, is supposedly being threatened at gun point,"

Martin froze, turned the radio up, and listened in, all attention on the news. The case was not only just the sort of thing he worked with, but for some reason reminded him of something.

"She has been identified as the FBI's Special Agent Samantha Spade, and is unharmed at the moment," The news reader continued, "Any updates, and you will be the first to know,"

Martin couldn't believe this; he thought he was dreaming, although he knew he wasn't. In super speed, he turned the key in the ignition and steered out from his drive. Thoughts played on his mind, and not one of them was good. He couldn't bear not knowing what was happening, and he couldn't bear the thought of Sam in danger.

-------------

The little kid was still screaming, her mother still holding her tightly. Sam felt guilty about what she had thought before, about wanting to switch places with the child. That would mean she would be okay, and the girl would be getting threatened right now, and that was not a happy thought. Carl felt as though he was loosening up, although he was now talking to one of his friends, in a language Samantha did not recognize. It could even have been a made up language, not that she cared.

"Okay, don't worry, this one will be out of our way in no time," at last, some English, but nothing Sam wanted to hear.

Carl turned back to Sam.

"Who'd have thought it eh, Carroty Gilmore turning all macho? You wish you'd taken up my offer now, don't you? I bet you fucking do!"

"Carl, I don't hate you. I'll go out with you, if that's what you want. I'll do what you want…" Pleading was one of those things Sam rarely did, but this seemed the right place.

"Does it look like I want to date you? No you stupid bitch, I do not want to go out with you! I want justice, is that too hard to believe?"

This guy is seriously sick; he needs help, Sam thought, a sick feeling rising up in her own heart, he's so sick, I would not be surprised if he did kill me, and that's what I'm worried about.

Carl pulled the gun away from Samantha's head. She breathed out a sigh of relief and silently thanked God, another thing she had never done before.

"Not so fast. You think I'm just gonna let it go like that? Think again,"

-------------

The place was quiet, unusually quiet, and nobody seemed in sight. Martin went to Jack's office, hoping to find someone, only to remember that Jack was out of the city. He hurried over to the HQ room, and sure enough there were Viv and Danny, looking through pictures and letters. Martin ran in.

"Viv, Danny, I need your help!"

His colleagues looked at him. Danny's eyes were unusually red and Vivian's face was a mess. Both looked as if they'd been crying.

"We know, man, we know," Danny put a hand on Martin's shoulder.

Martin was enraged. How could they know, and yet just be sitting there?

"What are you still doing here then?"

He spotted a TV on next door, a picture of Sam on the screen. All attention focused on the news, all he could do was hope that the four men in black had let her go.

"Gunshots have been heard, and one can only assume that this means someone aboard the train is dead. Although it has not been confirmed, we are led to believe that this bullet was aimed at Federal Officer, Samantha Spade who was on her way to work when the train was hi-jacked,"

Tears flowed uncontrollably down Martin's cheeks. He could have cried for a week, a month, even a year, and he wouldn't have cared. Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone? The bitter words stuck in his mind, still hovering there from 4th grade, when his kitten had been run over just 2 days after he got it. This was much like it, except much, much worse.

"It's okay, we're here Martin. I'm sure she'll be okay," he hardly noticed Vivian walk up behind him.