Waiting For My Rocket To Come

By: Anti Darth Ani

Chapter IV - Can't Get Worse

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Only have one thing to say before I start this chapter. In case you haven't read any of my other fan-fics. I LOVE cliffhangers!!!!! :P Oh, I also need to say that I'm sorry it took forever to update this chapter and you might be saddened by how short it is. But I will update it soon, as I have finally finished writing Breaking The Habit and now all I have to do it edit it!

P.S. I'm not sure about Samantha's family, so I'm sorry if any of this information contradicts the show. If you know something's wrong, tell me in your review and I'll change it right away…

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Samantha's hand grasped Martin's, which still held her cell phone against her face, "What did you just say?" she asked in a small whisper. How did this guy know her first name?

"He claims to be your brother. Brandon Andrew Spade. Does that name sound familiar at all?" The voice pulled away from the line and shouted something in the opposite direction.

Samantha looked up at Martin's face. She knew he was just as confused, but they both knew she didn't have a brother. "Andrew Spade is my father's name. Well, it was my father's name. But he's dead."

"Why don't you just come down to the station, Miss, so I don't spend my entire day debating this issue with you over the phone. I do have more important issues to be dealing with right now. This isn't exactly a safe city." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Samantha took a moment to think this over. On her one day off of work, the last thing she wanted to do was spend it down at the police station for some guy she didn't even know. "Fine," she mumbled at last, pulling Martin's hand away from her ear and snapping the phone shut. "This has to be a mistake," she told him, more to reassure herself than to tell him.

Martin nodded, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. He kissed her forehead and disappeared into the bedroom to find his tie. Samantha grabbed her jacket off the coat rack next to the front door and then waited for Martin while she pulled on her boots.

Martin came out of the bedroom, carrying her scarf in his hand. Samantha smiled and thanked him for remembering it as he wrapped it around her neck. Then they both turned and faced the door and Samantha wondered what waited for her arrival at the police station.

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Samantha hadn't been down to the local police station in a while, and when she got there, she knew why. She suddenly remembered why she hated this part of town so much. Maybe because of the neighborhood in which it was located, or simply because of all the stares sent Martin and her way. She wanted to roll up into a little ball and get the hell out of there, but Martin held open the front door into the building, so Samantha sighed and walked past him.

The first thing she noticed happened to be the smell. Dirty gym socks didn't even begin to cover the smell from the stale coffee, the mildew and mold growing on the walls, and then the smell the convicts brought in with them. Then there was the sweaty smell from men who sat in a patrol car all day without an air conditioning. Samantha turned to Martin, her stomach getting ready to release itself. She took his hand into hers and kissed his cheek, "I'm so glad you don't work here," she told him and Martin let out a small laugh.

They checked into the front desk and the receptionist gave them a room number. Walking down the crowded hallways, they received even more stares from people sitting in handcuffs on the folding chairs that lined the walls. They found the door to the room the lady at the front sent them to. Samantha took a deep breath and then turned the knob.

The door ripped away from her hand before she had a chance to open it. A teenage male stood in front of her like a deer caught in the headlights. A burly man came up and grabbed the boy's arms, forcing him back into a chair in the middle of the room, around a metal table. "Just keep your ass in that chair, Brandon, and I won't have to hurt you anymore."

Martin gave Samantha a slight nudge to get her into the room. Her grip on his hand tightened as she sat down across the table from Brandon Spade. Martin took the seat next to her. The police officer looked from Brandon to the pair of them, "I can see the family resemblance," he mentioned.

Brandon snorted at this and kicked his legs up onto the table, leaning back in his chair so that only two of the four legs stayed on the floor. Crossing his arms across his chest, he stared at Samantha defiantly. "I didn't ask the bastard to call you. I mentioned that I had a sister my mother told me still lived in the city, and before I know it, you're blocking my one escape chance."

Samantha rested her elbows on the table, rubbing her eyes, trying to get the sleep out of them. "Is there a reason you called me here today or do you just love to tease the feds?" she asked the officer, whose name tag read Williams.

At this statement, Brandon's feet fell back to the floor. He leaned forward in his seat, putting all four legs back on the floor, "You work for the government?" he asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

"Yeah, we work for the FBI," Martin put in and for the first time, Brandon looked at Martin. His attention soon returned to Samantha. "This is ridiculous," Samantha said, standing up. "I don't have time for this. You're not my brother and you deserve whatever punishment you've got coming, buddy."

She and Martin were halfway out the door when she heard Brandon call after her "Mom says you should come visit us back in Virginia when you decide it wasn't her fault dad died." Samantha froze up for a minute. This guy sure knew a lot about her family if he didn't share the same parents. Samantha shook her head, satisfied at the slam of the door behind her. The guy shared nothing with her, she was sure of it.

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"Do you want to talk about it?" Martin asked as soon as they arrived inside of his apartment. Martin went to turn on the heater as Samantha took off all of her winter clothes. She wrapped the scarf around one arm of the coat rack and placed her jacket on another. Martin handed her his and she hung it up next to hers.

Samantha involuntarily wiped her hands against her pants. Martin stepped in front of her, lifting her hands up with his, their palms flat against each other. Samantha entwined her fingers with his and grinned softly. Martin pulled her closer, starting to sway back and forth, "We can go dancing if you want," he suggested when he figured she didn't want to talk about it.

Samantha shook her head. "You want to know what I want to do right now?" she asked, a hint of sultry in her voice. Martin pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers. He eyed her lips and then looked right into her eyes, waiting for an answer. "I want to finish what we started before Jaime interrupted us."

Martin raised one eyebrow, something he tried teaching Samantha how to do numerous times, but she still couldn't do it yet. "I could use a shower after being in that station," he remarked.

Samantha let out a soft grin, resting her forehead against his, "I guess we'll do it your way today, Mr. Fitzgerald." Martin nodded before finding her mouth with his.