Innocent
A/N: Follow up from my last MS fic, '30'. It's based about a year after that happened… it's probably best if you have read that fic or this one will make absolutely no sense! I warn you, Madame Muso is being a pain in the butt, so this fic may be seriously awful! Since the truth has come out about Martin & Samantha, they've now unofficially moved in together, meaning although Sam spends most of her time at Martin's, she still lives in her old apartment, but gets non-work phone calls directed to Martin's.
I guess I stole the storyline from 'Neighbours' but I changed it so I guess that's ok P
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the characters you don't recognise.
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Sitting on the edge of his bed, looking out on the balcony coming off his bedroom, Martin sighed contently. The scene in front of him was the most wonderful he had ever seen; his amazing girlfriend sat out in the sun, dressed in his shirt but with a pair of sunglasses placed over her eyes. Martin finished tying his shoe laces, and strolled out to stand behind her, planting a soft kiss on Samantha's head. She turned, smiling.
"Enjoy your day off,"
Sam grinned, standing up to give him a hug, and of course, a good-morning kiss. Of course, she wished he could spend the day with her at home, but she understood he was needed at work. His blue eyes glistening, Martin pushed a strand of Sam's golden hair behind her ear, before standing there, simply admiring just how beautiful she looked, her blonde hair loose round her shoulders. Pulling a face, she gave him one last kiss.
"Now you better get to work; I don't want Jack phoning me up to tell me off for making you late!" She laughed, giving him yet another hug.
Martin laughed too, "Don't you worry, I'm off… see you later,"
Watching Martin go, Samantha lowered herself onto the bed, closing the doors which led to the balcony. She sighed. The sunlight shone through the glass doors, brightening the room so that she noticed dust which she hadn't seen before, but couldn't be bothered to clean away. She stood up, walking over to the closet which she'd taken from her own apartment, and moved to Martin's. Pushing past the many suits, she found a summer dress at the back; something Sam had never seen herself ever wearing. Shrugging, she slipped out of Martin's shirt, and pulled on the dress, finding it surprisingly comfortable, though not as much so as the jeans and t-shirts she was used to wearing.
The dress, which was light pink in color, had no sleeves, and ended just below Sam's knees. It had tiny pink roses scattered across it, and was a loose material, though it was not too baggy. She looked at herself in the mirror. Though to her she looked really weird, it was only because she was used to wearing suits, and she thought she actually looked ok. Or even, though she would never say it aloud, pretty. Finding a pair of shoes that would look ok with the dress was a whole different matter she realized as she searched the bottom of the closet, before coming across a pair of flip-flops that she'd brought when she went to visit her sister in Australia about 6 months ago. Putting them on, she grinned at how different she looked.
The phone began to ring, threatening to fall off of the dressing table completely, but Sam caught it, pressing a button. She put it to her ear.
"Hey Spud?" Before she could say anything, a familiar Australian accent floated down the line.
"Beech!"
The voice laughed, "Hey don't get too excited!"
Sam smiled; glad to hear from her sister again. Since she had said goodbye to Samantha at the airport in Australia, Breanna had only phoned twice, and that was half a year ago! She already missed little Ava and baby Harry, who wasn't exactly a baby any more! "It's great to hear from you!"
"Yu-huh, you too… listen, Sam, I need a favour,"
Sam started down the stairs, the phone still to her ear, "What sort of favour?"
She listened for a further half hour as Bree explained that her husband, Clarke had been diagnosed with lung cancer and that they had tried treatment and it hadn't worked. Sam wondered how she had sounded so cheery on the end of the phone when obviously things at home were so bad. Sighing, she took a sip of the juice she'd just poured.
"What can I do?"
Bree sounded like she had started to cry, "He only has a month to live,"
Nearly dropping her glass of orange juice, Sam tried to take in the news, "But he's so young!"
"I know," Bree sobbed, "But the thing is, Ava isn't going to be able to handle it. I mean, once her daddy's gone…"
Feeling the tears sting her eyes, Sam swallowed. Ava was only 5 years old, she probably didn't understand that he was going to die and she'd never see him again, "Oh god, yes,"
"Well, I guess it's not so much of a favour, as me just telling you…"
"What is it?" She could feel the glass shaking in her hands.
"Would you come down for the funeral? Ava asks me everyday if Aunty Sam is coming, and everyday I have to tell her you can't. She cried last night, and when I asked her what was wrong, she told me she missed Aunty Sam, and was Aunty Sam dead,"
Samantha answered without a pause, "Of course I'll come! I'll stay as long as you need me,"
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It was only a few weeks later that Samantha received the next phone call, though Martin was the one to pick it up. They had been enjoying some snuggling on the couch when it had interrupted them, and even though she told him to leave it, Martin insisted on picking up. Reaching for the phone, he leant back into Sam, "Martin Fitzgerald speaking…"
"Martin? Could I speak to Samantha please…? I don't have much time," Nodding, Martin handed the phone over to his girlfriend.
"Umm… hey,"
Sam could hear Bree burst into tears all over again, "Oh god Sam, it's all gone wrong. They think I killed him!"
"Okay, calm down," She wasn't sure what her sister meant, "What happened?"
Breanna explained how Clarke's parents had come over to spend some time with their dying son, and had walked into his bedroom to find Bree holding a pillow, Clarke's dead body next to her. They'd told the police this, and the police had arrested her for murder, even though she insisted she was just moving his pillows to make him look more comfortable. Ava and Harry had been taken to stay with their grandparent's, and the police wouldn't let Bree see them.
"What about the coroner, what did he say? He did a post mortem, right?"
Bree sobbed, "Cause of death inconclusive,"
Sam felt her chest grow tight as she realized how bad trouble her sister really was in. Shaking her head, she switched the hand the phone was in, "You said Ava and Harry are with Clarke's parents?"
"Yes… they'd never even met them before!"
Sam nodded, "It's okay, I'm going to come down there and sort this out, if I have to bring the kids back with me until this is sorted out, or even stay in Australia until you are released, I will,"
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An hour after her sister had hung up; Samantha lay on the bed she shared with Martin, her head resting on his chest. She hadn't stopped crying since she'd told him the whole situation, and tears still rolled down her face now, dropping silently on his grey shirt. His arms were around her as they lay in the silent, dark room. He didn't need to say a word, just that fact he was there made everything 10 times better.
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To Be Continued…
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A/N: Oooo aren't I a happy chappy? P More actual Smarties-ness coming up next chapter, and more into the whole death thingy… hope you don't hate the idea.
