Chapter Four: It's My Life and It's Now Or Never

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Without A Trace or the F.B.I. I do however own my imagination, my Muse, my insanity, my fangirliness and my dreams.

A/N:- Sorry for the lack of updates. I've just started University up in Edinburgh so everything's been a bit Aaargh with the packing and getting ready. Now I'm here, writing is my anti-stress, anti-homesick, anti-freaking-out-with-fear drug! These couple of chapter may be more informative than exciting but expect more Martin/Sam-ness later. And let the talking begin ………………………

Dedicated to:

Berta101, Tea, Without A Trace Freak, Sammisgirl

Outrageous Band Geek – Roast beef is sexy? Really? Interesting.

Biajones – That's okay. ) Queen rules!

Isabell89 – I'm a very sarcastic person myself. And that's not me being sarcastic!

Lu78 – There's a good justifiable answer to your question. But I don't know what it is! Maybe that if all men were like Martin, chocolate retailers would go bankrupt.

Bicoco – Hey there!

"So ……." Samantha started and then trailed off giving a nervous laugh as she moved from the dining table to the sofa. Martin smiled and put down a bottle of wine and two clean glasses on the coffee table. Samantha looked at them. "So your plan is that if I don't talk, you'll get me drunk first?"

Martin grinned and relaxed on the settee. "It's a last resort."

Samantha smiled and with a look of resolution, she turned to face him and placed her hands in her lap. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

"What do you want to tell me?" Martin replied.

Samantha shrugged. "I guess I should start at the beginning, right?"

"Either that or you start with the story about the flour and the nudity." Martin suggested, trying to hide his cheeky grin with not much success.

Samantha laughed. She loved the relaxed atmosphere that Martin seemed to bring with him at all times - it made a nice change from her tense, highly-strung way of life. "Okay, right, well, I grew up in Wisconsin with my Mom and Dad and my older sister Julia. My Mom isn't exactly the world's most maternal person and for as long as I can remember, she always had a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a box of anti-depressants in the other but it was okay, we managed. My Dad looked after us, preparing dinner and putting it in the fridge. He worked two jobs and when he was at home, I was at school and when I was at home, he was out at work or asleep. I used to cherish Sundays which was the only day he had off and he used to spend it with Julia and I in the garden or doing family things – if it was one of my mother's 'better days' then she used to even sometimes join us. Either that or she would be locked in the back room with alcohol, pills and the television like every other day."

"You were a Daddy's girl?" Martin asked, not wanting to push the subject of her mother.

Samantha nodded. "It was a pretty lonely time. Dad was the only one who would play with me but he had to work most of the time. Julia and I got on all right - she looked after me when Dad was out, helping me with dinner and getting ready for bed but she didn't really have much time for me other than that. She's five years older so in her spare time she used to go out with her friends whilst I used to spend the time alone in my room. It was okay though, I can survive in my own company ……… but then one day Dad didn't come home from work ……" Here Samantha trailed off. She was getting to the difficult part. The part which she always tried to forget had happened. "I tried telling Mom that Dad was late home but she was just drunk and told me to get out of the room, Julia was staying over at her boyfriend's place so it was two days before we got the call saying that he had been killed in a car crash."

Samantha looked up at Martin for the first time since she had started talking. His eyes were full of sympathy and she was only aware that she was starting to cry again when he handed her a tissue and moved closer to give her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Things kinda went downhill from then on. A week hadn't passed since my Dad's funeral when Bob my Mom's 'drinking partner' moved in." Samantha shook her head slowly. "It was like my Mom didn't even care that her husband had just died. Instead she used the money from his insurance to buy even more drink and cigarettes. Julia took care of me and she used to talk about how she and Harry were going to run away and they were going to take me with them and we were going to have a better life without Mom. Those were probably days when Julia and I were the closest: I was at that stage when I was beginning to be able to look after myself and not be the annoying dependent little sister and I was more aware of what was going on."

Samantha gave a weak smile as she remembered some of the dreams she and Julia used to talk about.

"But you and Julia grew apart?" Martin asked, bringing her back to her story.

"Yeah. Eventually Bob seemed to get tired of sitting round with my mother getting drunk every day and turned his attention to us girls – and not in a good way."

Samantha stopped talking for a moment and furrowed her brows together as she struggled with the painful recollection. Martin seemed to understand as he moved his hand down to squeeze her hand comfortingly.

"He used to do stuff to Julia, forcing me to watch and if I screamed he would just chuck the nearest lamp or chair at me. Eventually Julia did run off but she didn't take me. Bob then started …. touching me. I used to spend every night screaming my head off but my Mom was either in a drunken stupor downstairs or she didn't care. This continued for months until Bob got arrested for some drug offence and then that left just Mom and I. The money was starting to run out and with the alcohol deprivation came the violence ……….. I tried to run away but she came after me and was so inexplicably angry that she wouldn't even let me out to go for school for days……. I had a part time job and Mom took all the money I got from that. I had to get out of there but it was hard." she paused. "I might not have been happy at home but it was the only life I knew and it was just scary to think of leaving it for good ……. and my Mom knew how I felt and she played on that." Samantha took a deep breath and leant back, resting her head on the top of the sofa.

"It couldn't have been easy." Martin said soothingly. "You've done really well for yourself Sam to get where you are today."

Samantha gave a weak smile. Once she had got started, it wasn't as hard as she had thought it would be to speak about, she just reeled it all off as if it was a story that had been building up inside her, asking to be let out. It wasn't easy but she could remove herself from it to some extent and she skipped over all the details before it became one long self-pitying monologue. That's one of the reasons why she had never told all this to anyone before - she didn't want people pitying her, she much preferred them to see her with her cold, distant – even bitchy – front that she put on. She sighed. She had said enough for one night and didn't really want to continue with her narration.

As if he could read her thoughts, Martin pulled the cork out of the chilled white wine and poured it out. "Shall we go out onto the balcony?" he said, motioning towards the French windows.

Samantha nodded and stood up. It had been a few days since Martin had made his offer of holding mock-therapy sessions before Samantha actually managed to work up the confidence to ask him to listen to her. She had suggested going back to her place one day after work but it turned out that Martin's idea had worked the best. And so it came to be that she was spending her Sunday evening out on his balcony overlooking Manhattan after he had laid on a splendid dinner over which they had done nothing except argue about sport teams. Now he was giving her the opportunity to unwind after the trauma of digging up the past …….. he had known it was better not to have done this straight after a day at work – she would already have been highly strung and tense, and now at least she was able to relax and lounge about at his place out of her work clothes. She half suspected that Martin knew her better than she knew herself.

She leant on the railings, watching the yellow cabs move like tiny ants below. She sipped her wine. French, probably quite expensive. A light breeze blew against her cheek and she closed her eyes letting thoughts of her father, mother and Bob fade away. She turned to look at Martin. He was standing next to her staring ahead almost pensively.

"So, you've heard about my childhood, what was yours like?" she asked, resting her arm on the railings.

"Not nearly as tumultuous as yours." Martin said, finishing the wine in his glass and pouring some more for himself and topping up her glass.

Samantha looked at him with a sudden itch of curiosity. He hadn't known much about her before this evening and she realised that she didn't know much about him either besides the fact he had one of the Bureau's most powerful men as his father.

"I guess your childhood must still have been difficult but in other ways." she mused.

Martin nodded slightly. "I had three older sisters but my father always wanted a son to fulfil all the ambitions he himself had failed to fulfil – and considering where he is now, I guess you could say I had a lot to live up to."

"So I'm guessing if things had gone to plan you wouldn't be here working for Missing Person's?"

"If I'd gone by his plan then I would probably be standing for senator in Washington right about now." Martin said grimly.

"Politics eh?"

"Yeah, hard to imagine isn't it?" Martin said with a laugh.

Samantha smiled. "Not really. You have the determination and the looks to do well in the political world."

"Thanks …. I think. But I'm happy doing this."

"You always wanted to be an FBI Agent?"

"Yeah, the thrill of the chase, the guns - every boy's dream …"

"So you didn't do it just to spite your father then?" Samantha questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"It could have been that as well." Martin smirked. "What about you?"

Samantha shrugged. "It was a way of getting out of the rut that my life was in ….. and to say you're an Agent is a pretty sure way to scare men off."

"Really? I've found that it only enhances my dating chances." Martin said off-handedly.

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Please tell me you haven't used the James Bond line on any poor delusional girls!" she exclaimed.

Martin laughed. "No, I'm not Danny. But I guess he has the last laugh since he's not the one sitting in front of the TV with a takeaway every Friday night."

Samantha smiled. Hearing his words reassured her that she wasn't the only one leading a boring life outside of work

"Although whilst I was at Quantico I did use the Agent-line to get into every club in West Virginia."

Samantha opened her mouth in mock shock. "I would never have expected it of you!"

"There's a lot you don't know about me." Martin said, his eyes sparkling as he looked down at her.

"And there's a lot you don't know about me." Samantha paused. "But I guess by the time Dr Harris releases me that will no longer be true."

"Yeah, the elusive Miss Spade will no longer be such a mystery." Martin smiled and turned back to face the Manhattan skyline, rubbing her back gently.

Samantha closed her eyes. This felt good. Just having Martin standing by her felt good. Deep down in the depths of her subconsciousness something began to grow.

……………………………………………….

Samantha rubbed her hands together and looked into the consultant room with a look of fierce determination on her face. She was going to do this – or at least try. She had promised Martin that much.

"Good morning." Dr Harris said, pleasantly as soon as Samantha opened the door.

"Is it?" Samantha questioned, sitting down. Dr Harris raised her eyebrows. "As far as I can tell, there's hardly anything good about it: It's pouring down with rain, the Bureau got bad press again which means we're going to get the talk again and then, of course, I'm here sitting in this chair again." She stated, crossing her legs.

Dr Harris reflected on this outburst for a minute. "Agent Spade, do you always get this cross when you're forced to do something you don't like?"

"No."

"Really?"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Yes, really. There's a 101 things I don't like doing in this job and although I don't like doing them, I also don't let them bother me because I know that they need to be done. This isn't one of them."

"That's a matter of opinion Agent Spade." Dr Harris said, shuffling the papers in front of her. Samantha could see that her attitude was enough to grate on even the most patient person's nerves. "Agent Malone tells me that you had quite a tumultuous childhood, is that correct?"

"Nice to know that you and Jack have been having discussions about me in my absence." Samantha said, leaning back in her chair. Lisa didn't say anything. She sighed, best to get this over with. "Yes that would be correct."

"Want to tell me about it?" Dr Harris prompted.

"I guess, since what I want doesn't seem to come into it much." Samantha shot. Then she slowly brought her mind back to last night, trying to recall that feeling where she was able to just reel off her history with the minimal amount of feeling behind it. She looked out of the window at the pouring rain, imagining that she was in the room with Martin instead of Lisa and she slowly began to reel off her tale. Half an hour later and she had reached the point that she had got to yesterday with Martin.

"For someone who hates talking about their past, you're doing really well." Dr Harris said encouragingly. "See it's not that hard is it?"

Samantha eyed her coldly. "I'm sorry but you can't take any credit for that. It's only 'not hard' because I told Martin all of this last night."

Dr Harris looked at Samantha, mildly shocked. "So you do open up to people?"

"When I have to." She said simply.

"And why to Martin?"

"Why not?" Samantha challenged using the age old interviewing technique of answering a question with a question.

Lisa Harris shrugged. "I just didn't realise you two were that close."

"We aren't. I had to handcuff him to the chair and force him to listen to me." Samantha said, rolling her eyes, getting restless.

"Looks like I'm going to have to use the same technique with you unless you stop treating these sessions as some kind of horrific punishment." Dr Harris said seriously as if she were talking to a school child.

Samantha took a deep breath and leant forward. "Look, I won't deny that these sessions make me incredibly uncomfortable. I'm not used to people prying into my personal life and raking up all the bad things so it's going to take me some time to get used to it." She said quietly. "I'm sorry." She said bluntly.

Dr Harris nodded and Samantha almost flinched from the pity she saw in the other woman's eyes. "If it helps, carrying on talking to Martin as well as me."

"I will."

"Good." Lisa said, checking her watch. "Well, I'll let you get back to your desk before I have Jack complaining to me about taking up valuable time." She said with a faint smile.

Samantha didn't say anything else but walked out of there without a word. She stopped round the corner and leant against the wall. Things were going to be okay.

A/N:- It's very hard to write when there's a Pantry Party going on outside your room. Apparently students don't sleep. Ever.