Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the tv show "Without a Trace." Trust me, if I did everyone would know because it would be all about Samantha and Martin and they would NOT have broken up.
A/N: Safe aired tonight (From the Ashes on finishing date). Oh how I love the few seconds of S/M. Does anyone else realize how pathetic it is that I cling onto those 10 or so seconds and that they totally made my day? I mean, I totally didn't go out with my friends tonight because I wanted to watch Safe. And I started squealing the giddy fangirly squeal when Martin first showed up on the show. I know I'm pathetic, but I don't care!
I hope you guys enjoy this!
Chapter Three: A Promise
"Was there any indication?" Martin asked.
He and Shelley were sitting in the living room of his apartment. It was the Saturday evening after she had arrived. They spent the day walking around New York, Martin showing her the sights. Now they were lounging on the couch in their pajamas with the USC game on in the background. Shelley had her knees tucked up under her chin.
"I don't know, I was so caught up in the wedding plans…there could have been signs and I just didn't notice." She shook her head and kept her eyes downcast. There was a moment of silence before she continued. "Four days before the wedding, Andrew shows up at the bachelorette party saying he needed something for his mother. I didn't think anything of it but someone asked where Charlotte was so I went looking for her…and when I found her…" she shifted uncomfortably but lifted her eyes to meet Martin's, "they were in my bedroom, going at it like it wasn't even tacky. My fiancée and maid of honor in my bed at my bachelorette party."
Martin was shaking his head with a disgusted look on his face. He remained silent though, knowing that after she had composed herself she would continue.
"Obviously I left…I definitely wasn't in the best state to be leaving but I couldn't stay there. I didn't want to go to my parents' house and Charlotte's was out of the question so I rented a motel room and emptied the mini-bar.
"He called me that morning and I agreed to have lunch with him. And do you know where he suggested that we go?" she asked with an exasperated tone.
"No," Martin replied simply, shaking his head.
"Little Venice!" she cried. When it clearly didn't have the desired effect she elaborated. "That's where we had our first date…and he was going to propose there but I found the ring in his bathroom."
"You're kidding," Martin said. She shook her head, anger clear on her perfect features. She folded her legs across her and began spinning the engagement ring Martin had given her that she still wore on the other hand. It was a nervous habit she had, fidgeting when she became anxious or upset.
She sighed deeply and brushed one of the loose curls away from her face.
"Anyway, he apologized for sleeping with Charlotte four days before the wedding and he apologized for not handling our 'broken relationship' better. But then he proceeded to blame what had happened on me!"
Martin raised an eyebrow and asked, "How did he do that?"
She shrugged and looked a bit bewildered but explained.
"He said that I was pushing him away…which makes no sense seeing as we were about to get married. He said that I was pushing him away and into Charlotte's arms. And when I asked him how exactly I had managed to do that…" she bit her lip and spun the ring again, "he said that he constantly felt like I had some standard that he could never live up to."
"What did he mean by that?" Martin asked, folding his arms across his chest.
She shrugged again but this time did not look directly into his eyes when she answered.
"He said that there was someone in my past that I had never fully gotten over and that no matter how hard he tried he felt like he could never be as good as…as this other person." He voice became progressively quieter as she finished the sentence and Martin didn't fail to notice but decided not to continue badgering her about it.
They sat in silence for a moment or two, Martin taking a drink of his soda and Shelley idly spinning the ring.
For Shelley, the silence was deafening, even though the sports commentator was yelling loudly in the background on the tv.
"So, what about you Marty? Do you have a special someone?" She was smiling again now, but there was something behind those brown eyes that suggested a less than playful undertone.
"Ah, I had a feeling we would be heading in this direction sooner or later," he replied with a laugh as he stretching his arms over his head. "I…uh, I did. We split up recently." He didn't really feel like going into detail just yet as he himself was still trying to work through some of his rationale.
"Anyone I know?" Shelley asked without expecting an actual answer.
"You've met her actually." The shock that followed that statement nearly floored her. She immediately started going through all of the women she and Martin both knew that lived in New York.
"Who?" she asked stunned.
"Samantha Spade, from work." Shelley's mind began to slow down as she began digging through her memories to remember Samantha. Things from that day began to make sense suddenly: the immediate iciness in her voice as soon as she found out that Shelley was looking for Martin, the way she had stared as Martin held her, the scuff marks that Shelley had found on her purse.
But some things didn't. Martin had never gone for blondes before and from what she had deducted from the things Martin had told her, Samantha was very independent. He had always gone for the more clingy women. He liked to feel needed and more than anything he liked to feel wanted.
"Why'd you split up?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.
He shook his head and his eyes fell in the same manner that hers had only a few minutes earlier.
"I just never knew where I stood with her, and any time I got close to finding out she would push me even further away. It was constantly one step forward and five back. I guess I just got tired of the disappointment."
Shelley had never seen him look as defeated as he looked in that very moment. Instead of the slightly upbeat and playfully arrogant Martin she was used to being around, he looked as if he had been deflated somehow.
And before she could stop herself (for there was a 50/50 chance that he would answer the wrong way) she asked, "Was it better than what we had?"
Martin's eyes snapped up and she could tell that he was considering his answer. She knew that the hopefulness and anxiety she was suddenly feeling was shining through her eyes like a spotlight, but all she could think about was how he was about to answer.
He opened his mouth and,
Knock, knock.
She let out a sigh, not sure if she was relieved or upset but watched as Martin stood up and walked to the door. She saw the surprised look on his face as he saw who it was and unlocked the door.
It was Samantha.
"Hey." Shelley heard her voice before she saw her and watched as Martin's surprise went to delight and then to the defeated look he had had earlier in a split second.
Samantha walked in but she had a large box under her arm.
The first words out of Martin's mouth, being the gentleman that he was, were "Samantha, you remember Shelley right? Shelley, this is Samantha." Shelley shifted preparing to stand up and shake Sam's hand but stopped when Sam sent a sarcastically cold smile in her direction and looked back to Martin. He cleared his throat and continued. "We were actually just talking about you."
"Oh really, must have been fascinating." Martin looked slightly taken aback but didn't say anything. "Look, I brought your things back over here. I don't have a lot of time so I'm just going to dump this somewhere and grab my things, alright?"
"Sure, that's fine. Do you want some help? I could…"
"Nope," Samantha interrupted. Martin didn't heed her reply though and followed her to his bedroom where she proceeded to dump all the contents of the box onto his bed including his muddy cross-trainers, shaving cream, Special Edition Braveheart, two old sub sandwiches, and reading glasses.
She went all around his apartment in less than ten minutes picking up her shampoo, discarded clothing, cans of soup, and other things that she could have easily gone without.
"Samantha, you're welcome to stick around. We were just watching the USC game…" Martin suggested as she began pulling his apartment key off of her key chain. She stuck it in Martin's hand, picked up her box and replied,
"No thanks, I don't want to interrupt the slumber party." And with one last cold smirk walked out of the door, slamming it shut behind her.
Shelley's eyes were wide but she had one eyebrow cocked. Martin stared for a moment or two at the door, unsure of what to do next. He considered going after her to knock some sense into her but knew that there would be no point, she was far too stubborn.
"I'm just going to go to bed now," Martin said when he finally turned around to face Shelley again. He looked disheveled and uncertain of what to do.
"Marty, it's only 8:30," she pleaded.
"Yeah…it's pretty late," he said, barely registering her words. And without another glance in her direction he went into his bedroom and shut the door.
Looking through the contents that had been so gracefully dumped on his bed was probably the hardest thing he had had to do besides the actual break up.
Having all of his belongings back, including the things he had bought specifically for her apartment, made it feel so much more final, like there was absolutely no chance of reconciliation. He set to putting the toiletries away first because they felt less personalized somehow, all the while marveling at how much of his stuff had ended up at her place.
He found some ties and a pair of shoes he had long since given up on and a book he had started at her apartment and never even finished chapter one. Inside it was the photo strip he had forced her to pose for. He stared at it for a long time before moving on.
There were a few files from cases that had been closed months ago at the bottom of the pile and she had even stuck the birthday card he had given her in them.
There was the picture frame he had given her for Christmas and the picture of the two of them at his aunt's house. He stared at it for nearly half an hour just reliving that day. The two of them had been so happy that weekend. She had laughed for an hour when Martin's uncle had forced them to sleep in separate bedrooms. He remembered swearing that he had seen tears glistening in her dark brown eyes as his cousins did their own rendition of the nativity scene. She had smiled the entire time the family opened the gifts and had talked non-stop about it on the drive back to New York. His family always opened presents one at a time so that everyone could see what you were getting and then it was tradition to hug the person who had given you the gift. He remembered Sam's surprise when his niece had hugged her after getting a present from him.
His aunt had wasted a whole role of film on just pictures of Samantha and Martin, and he noticed that Sam had sent them back as well. There were all kinds of pictures in there. One of Sam and his cousins sneaking into the room to wake him up Christmas morning. One of him and Sam kissing under the mistletoe. A few posed pictures and one of Martin teaching Samantha how to make chocolate pie immediately followed by him shoving a huge piece of it into her face.
When he had finished moving his things off of the bed he got into it and attempted to fall asleep, but it simply wouldn't work. He lay in his bed staring at the ceiling thinking about Samantha for hours. He wasn't sure about how long he stayed awake but remembered hearing the elevator doors ring open right before he finally drifted off to sleep.
Samantha had never intended to be so cold when she brought his stuff back to him. She had planned on sitting down and talking things out, trying to figure out what went wrong and if they could fix it somehow. She had intended on telling Martin how much she missed him and that she would do anything to get him back.
But that all changed because what she had not counted on was seeing Shelley, dressed in her pajamas sitting on his couch like she belonged there. It threw her off and as the wave of jealousy and anger filled her insides, she couldn't help what had happened next. Instinct took over and the next thing she knew she was rampaging around the apartment grabbing anything and everything that looked as if it could possibly belong to her.
The look Shelley was giving her hadn't helped either. It was like she was daring Samantha to make some claim to Martin. In the single flash of those milk chocolate brown eyes, a slight movement of the eyebrows, and the subtle smirk on her lips she was telling Samantha that Martin was hers.
After she had slammed the door, instead of walking angrily to the elevator, she slid slowly down the wall until her knees were in her chest. She felt broken, helpless even.
She didn't cry although she felt as if one more thing going wrong would rip her to pieces. She simply thought about how in the span of a week her life had gone from comfortable and relatively happy to empty and shattered.
She sat, propped up against the wall for well over two hours. Time seemed to drag by but she could not will herself to stand up and leave. Something inside told her that if he would just come outside, if he would just try to come after her, they could work it out. She kept waiting for the door to open, the flame of hope flickering pitifully.
But of course, he never came and after her final hope had been put out, she somehow forced herself up and got into the elevator without a single glance back.
The following Monday, Samantha was determined to pretend as if it had not happened. She walked to her desk without glancing over to where Martin sat prepared to only speak to him when it was necessary for the case. And if she was really lucky, Jack would assign one of them in the field and the other in the office.
Conversely, Martin had come into the office that day intent on making her tell him what Saturday night had been about. He watched as she walked in and although the fact that she had avoided his eyes had not surprised him, it did disappoint him slightly. He watched diligently until Jack came in with the case, waiting for a chance to catch her alone in the hall or in the break room. Thanks to Jack's punctuality and Danny's offer to grab Sam's coffee, Martin got no such chance.
"Okay, James Dobsen. 35 year old male, well-off lawyer living uptown. He clocked out of work at 3:30 this morning and never made it home. The wife called it in at nine. We have no idea if it's a kidnapping for ransom, if he ran off with the receptionist, or if he got mugged and is lying in an alley somewhere. Danny, Viv, I want you two here going through every phone record, home, cell and work, all of his recent charges, looking for anything suspicious that could give us some clue about why he's missing. I'm headed to the office building…I have to talk to the CEO about ransom payment and try to get a security camera tape. Samantha, Martin, you two are headed to the apartment. Talk to the wife, look around, see if anything is out of place or doesn't make any sense." Jack looked pointedly at each of them, daring them to challenge his deliberating and when no one did, he stood up and walked out.
Samantha followed Martin quietly down the hall and into the elevator. She did her best to keep from looking at him. Martin on the other hand, continually looked over at her as if trying to decide about what to say, quickly deciding against it and staring straight forward again.
She didn't say a word as she followed him out of the building lobby and gave a slight nod of thanks when he opened the door of his Impala for her. She watched in an almost amused fashion as he jogged around the car and got into his own seat. He stuck the key into the ignition but instead of turning the car on he just pulled it back out again.
"Is this how it's going to be?" he asked as he turned his whole body to look at her.
"I don't know what you're talking about?" she replied, the frostiness in her voice dropping the temperature a few degrees. Martin looked at her hard for a few seconds as if trying to see through her before saying,
"Fine." He turned the engine over and began driving. She continued to stare forward with her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Martin's resolve was strong though and they hadn't even made it through the first light by the time he was talking again.
"Look, I'm not sure exactly what I've done to especially piss you off, but could you please stop acting so childish and at least tell me what I've done wrong." She could hear the frustration in his voice but a fresh wave of anger kept that from softening her response.
"You think I'm acting childish?" His accusation had finally made her turn her body so that she was looking at him.
"Yes, I do," he replied before she could start ranting. "You won't even look at me at the office, you only speak to me when it's absolutely necessary…and the way you were acting Saturday night in my apartment was ridiculous." His grasp was so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles had turned white as he attempted to stay focused on the road and not lose his temper.
"Well maybe I wouldn't have acted that way if you and Shelley weren't in the middle of a pajama party. I just wanted to get out of there quickly so that the two of you could get back to whatever you were doing before I showed up." She sat back in her seat and crossed her arms firmly against her chest. The anger she felt was starting to make her shake and she was afraid of losing control.
"That is the dumbest excuse for the way you were acting! She hasn't even done anything to you…and the way we're dressed in my apartment isn't really your concern anymore, is it?"
Samantha nodded her head and bit her lip, fighting the urge to smack him as hard as she could. She let the silence hang for a moment before saying in a dangerously low tone,
"You're right, I shouldn't blame my actions on Shelley, because in reality it was your fault."
"My fault? What did I do?"
"You lied to me, Martin." Her voice was beginning to rise again and instead of becoming angrier she began to feel more emotional and found herself, once again, close to tears.
"What? I did not," Martin replied defensively.
"I seem to remember a certain conversation we had a while back about you having had only one serious relationship that lasted three months in grad school. But, and I quote, 'never even came close to settling down.' And, no, Danny didn't tell me, I overheard."
Martin looked stunned. It was the last reason he had expected and therefore had nothing to say back.
He stared determinedly at the road ahead and turned it over in his head while Samantha sat silently next to him, her head turned towards the window as she regained her composure. She was breathing deeply and managed to blink back a few threatening tears. When he finally spoke again she listened intently although he couldn't tell.
"I…I'm sorry…that I lied. Most women don't want to be told that their boyfriend used o be engaged to someone else and I was afraid of how you would react. I didn't want to end the relationship before it even started." His voice was sincere and quiet and he spoke slowly and deliberately.
"Well, I guess it doesn't matter anymore, does it?" She chanced a glance in his direction and could see the hurt of that statement on his face. He looked over at her for only a moment, but those few seconds that their eyes met she knew that it mattered. It mattered to him that she didn't forgive him and it mattered to her because he still cared so much.
After a few more seconds of tense silence she said, "…but I forgive you." She wouldn't look at him because she knew her eyes would give her away so she simply stared at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. "Just…don't do it again, okay?"
He nodded as relief spread over him.
"I promise. Only the truth from now on."
They were at a red light and he turned to face her and as much as she didn't want to look into those deep pools of blue, she found herself involuntarily turning her head so that her eyes could meet his.
She stared into them for what seemed like an eternity but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. She was searching them, searching for any ray of hope but a short honk behind them interrupted the moment and informed them that the light had turned green.
The rest of the ride was silent, but not uncomfortable. The intensity in the air had been relieved and they were soon outside of the apartment building in upper Manhattan.
When they walked into the apartment, Samantha was nearly floored. It was one of the most exquisite rooms she had been in, especially in a case. She was used to run down, bug-infested, dirty and falling apart apartments. This one had expensive artwork on the walls and custom furniture filling the room. But the extraordinary thing was that there seemed to be an almost homey feel to it.
The police gave Sam and Martin a small nod and then headed out of the room and they immediately spotted the woman who was undoubtedly the wife. She was sitting in one of the comfortable yet expensive looking armchairs with mountains of used tissues surrounding her. Tears were streaming down her face and her eyes were bloodshot and poofy.
"Mrs. Dobsen, I'm Special Agent Spade, this is Special Agent Fitzgerald, we're with the FBI," she said flashing her badge quickly before stuffing it back into her pocket. "We're going to need to ask you a few questions about your husband if that's okay."
"Sure, anything to help." She had beautiful strawberry blonde hair that Samantha could tell any other day would have been beautifully fixed instead of the messy knot that it was pulled into at the present time. She was obviously very thin but was wearing a large sweatshirt with the letters NYU printed across the front. Her green eyes were stunning and even without make-up Samantha knew that this woman was more beautiful naturally than your average New Yorker.
"Is it alright if I have a look around, Mrs. Dobsen?" Martin asked politely while Samantha sat down on one of the couches.
"It's Christina, and that's fine," she said with a small wave of the hand. Martin gave her a warm smile and glanced at Samantha before heading down a hall to the nearest bedroom.
"How are things between you and your husband, Christina?" Samantha asked routinely as she pulled out her notepad and a pen.
"Fine. He's been working long hours these past few weeks and we have our little spats like all couples but nothing out of the ordinary."
"Why long hours?"
"He's a lawyer, and a good one at that. His firm has been loaded with cases these past few months and so a case in which he would normally have another lawyer to work with along with paralegals and secretaries, he's working by himself and with only one secretary." Her voice was shaky but she managed to maintain her composure.
"And what's his secretary's name?"
"Alyse Sanderson, but I don't see why that's relevant."
"I'm just asking the routine questions. We need to get a good picture of your husband's life and who he interacts with to really find out what's happened to him." Samantha paused for a moment to see if Christina would overreact and have an outburst like so many of the people she interviewed had done before. "Why did you make the call this morning?"
Christina sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Samantha could see the moisture and the tears threatening to spill over and was amazed at this woman's strength.
"Around two this morning he called me from the office. He said that he had another two or three hours to work on whatever he and Alyse were doing but that he would definitely be home by 5. He was planning on coming home, getting a few hours of sleep and being back in the office around 11. So, I went back to sleep and when I woke up at 7 this morning he still wasn't here. I looked all around the apartment to see if he had just fallen asleep somewhere else but I didn't find him. So I called his cell, his pager and the office but no one knew where he was." Her voice had begun to shake again and was starting to get louder as it filled with worry.
"All of a sudden horrible things started to go through my mind. He just rides the subway home and at 4 in the morning who knows what could have happened to him on the way to the station or even on the subway. And…and I just don't understand why this is happening. Everyone says it's for ransom, but I'm telling you that something terrible has happened to my husband!"
Christina was beginning to sound more and more hysterical as she continued on.
"Mrs. Dobsen, I'm going to need you to calm down a little bit," Samantha said reassuringly.
"Calm down…CALM DOWN! That's my husband out there! What if he's hurt? What if he's sick? All these terrible things keep going round and round in my mind about what could have happened to him…to the love of my life, and you want me to calm down? HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE, AGENT SPADE?" Christina yelled.
Samantha gasped at the bluntness of this question and was even more frightened by the fact that her mind went immediately to Martin who was standing a few feet from where she was standing, separated only by a layer of sheetrock.
"I…um…I." Samantha's eyes shifted around the room and as she decided on an answer and opened her mouth to say it Martin burst in. Samantha's eyes darted to Martin and she knew that Christina had seen it.
"Samantha, you need to see this."
A/N-Hurrah!
Yay for a timely update. I'm so proud of myself. I have a few thank you's to my reviewers. You guys are awesome!
Fotodol-Thank you so much. I agree that the M/S hug was spectacudacular!
Raya519-Thank you! You made me feel so great with your review.
L'ilmissnitpick-I am flattered that you think so. I always feel that I struggle to keep them in character so thanks for the compliment.
SpookyBibi-Who could be mad at that cute? Not I. This chapter will definitely be longer.
Jtsideout389-I liked that part too. In my last story it was all from Sam's point of view so I thought I'd throw in a little bit of what Martin's feeling as well. Thanks for the review.
Muzzy-Olorea-I adore your reviews! You rock and I love your feedback. This story is dedicated to you, you know. So if you hate it you need to tell me so I can change it. And trust me, you're going to hate Shelley a lot more in coming chapters…and that's all I shall say.