Chapter 22

Luckily none of Martin's injuries had turned out to be that serious. The most dangerous, a punctured lung had been operated on. After that it was just a series of nasty cuts and bruises, some of which needed stitching and lots and lots of rest. The doctors told Jack that in cases of severe trauma like this they liked to keep someone as long as possible, delayed shock can set in, other injuries can come to light.

He was inclined to agree. Jack knew Martin Fitzgerald, knew how tough he was, mentally. Hell, he met his old man. But he also knew that this ran deep, old wounds had been opened and everything was not exposed, out there for everyone to know, his whole life Story. Martin wasn't going to like that, and he wasn't going to respond well to anyone probing it either.

He's stayed at the hospital for as long as he could, sending the others home one by one to get food and to sleep, promising to keep them updated. Then for a while he'd sat there alone, in the waiting room, only to be joined eventually by a limping Victor Fitzgerald, supporting himself rather heavily on one crutch,

No words were exchanged between either men. Jack stood up when Victor entered the surgical waiting room, and silently moved one chair in front of another so that Victor could rest his bandaged ankle. Victor had nodded his thanks and then they had sat there, not side by side, but not on opposite sides of the room either. When the surgeon had announced that all was well Victor had gone in to see Martin. He stayed for twenty minutes and then left without saying goodbye.

Not long afterwards a nurse had gone to Jack and told him he could sit with Martin if he liked, that Mr Fitzgerald had asked if he would.

Maybe they should have spoken, but then maybe it was easier this way too. Both men knew what they were, what others thought of them, and both of them knew they weren't going to change. But despite everything Victor knew what was best for his son, and Jack Malone silently accepted the responsibility that had been passed to him.

"You know those bandages really mess up your hair Martin, you really should get it all shaved off…"

"What, and spoil this wounded soldier look I have going on? No way… Martin coughed as he spoke, wincing as he did so, one hand holding his bandaged ribs, The breathing tube had been removed just a few hours previously leaving his throat raw and sore. "

"You okay?" the smile faded from Samantha Spade's expression as she moved towards the bed.

He waved her away with his free hand, "Its ok, Sam, really…" A small dark haired nurse entered the room, smiling at the figure in the bed.

"You ok, Martin?" she began.

Sam rose from her seat, winking at the patient as she did so. "I think I'll leave you to the nurses, I have a date" she said, gathering her coat and bag as she stood up.

"Ah, another mysterious man, surely you can tell an injured man who?" Martin teased.

"Not even wounded soldiers get to know about my dates." Samantha smiled, and turning to leave, she turned back quickly and kissed martin lightly on the forehead. "It's good to have you back." She whispered.

Martin smiled. "Thanks Sam."

He lay back against the pillows, feeling the pounding headache that had been threatening to overwhelm him earlier slowly starting to fade. He ached all over, and wished he could sleep for a while.

Jack and Vivian had left an hour previously. Jack had stayed all night and most of the morning before Martin had persuaded Vivian to take him home. He hadn't said much to martin, apart from berating him about giving Jameson so much grief and ending up getting more seriously injured than he'd needed.

You need to watch that hot head of yours Fitzgerald, god forbid that you should end up like your old man.

And Martin knew that Jack knew, knew what it was like, knew what it had been like, and although it was never mentioned, never would be mentioned, he knew that Jack Malone, for whatever reason was firmly in Martin Fitzgerald's corner, however much he might ride his ass day to day.

And he was glad.

The only person he hadn't seen was Danny Taylor. His partner had been MIA all day, in fact the last martin had seen of him was outside Jameson's house, right before he passed out and almost choked on his own blood. That was more than 20 hours previously.

Left to his own devices Martin couldn't help but thinking back over the events of the last few days…

He knew he was lucky, once his lung popped he only had a couple of hours, and he was certain that Martin Jameson wouldn't have helped him. The man couldn't even help himself, that much was obvious. Instead he focused all his energies on revenge.

"Penny for them...although I wouldn't think their worth it…" a voice came from the doorway. The dishevelled figure of Danny Taylor, still in the same clothes and with very large dark circles ringing his already dark eyes stood at the door. He grinned as he entered the room.

"That shows what you know Taylor; I'll have you know this brain is priceless." He retorted, an involuntary smile erasing some of the thoughts that had been running through his mind.

"Sorry I didn't get here any sooner" Danny sat down heavily on the seat beside Martins bed, "I had some uh stuff to finish up, you know."

Martin looked into the eyes that were trying to avoid looking directly at his.

"What happened?" Danny finally asked the question that no-one had dared mention so far. Jack had stopped two officers from going in to take the Martin's statement, saying that he would call them when the agent was ready to talk.

Martin closed his eyes and laid his head back against the starched white pillow the nurse had given him. Danny opened his mouth, trying to think of something to fill the silence, but thought better of it, instead loosening his tie even further and stretching out his legs so that his feet rested on the very edge of the hospital bed.

"I keep getting them mixed up" Martin eventually said, speaking rather softly, his throat still paining him. "Stan and Michael I mean, I keep mixing up their faces in my mind. Funny thought, I mean they didn't really look that alike." His eyes remain closed.

"That whole thing, you know, back when I was a kid, I think, I think I buried it so far away that I almost forgot it ever happened. Its like I lived two lives, one up until I was 12 and another from that moment onwards, two different lives, two different families, two different people."

"He wanted revenge, for what I don't know, I don't really think he knew. He wanted to hurt me, but most of all he wanted to hurt Dad, because Dad made sure that Stan stayed in jail all those years ago. But in the end I think he was just angry at Stan and that's why he killed him, he was just so angry at his brother for deserting him. Sitting there in that room he kept talking and talking and talking…I think he realised what he'd done. He didn't mean to kill his brother, just to cause him pain and when it all sank it, he just couldn't live with it, couldn't live with the fact that he'd killed his own brother.

"So he shot himself" Danny finished the statement for him.

Martin opened his eyes at this point and looked across at Danny. "What I don't understand though, is what my father said to him on the phone. Whatever it was it seemed to trigger something in his mind, that's when he started talking to himself."

He paused and sighed heavily. "Could have damned near killed me, but I suppose it worked in the end. Jameson's dead and I'm alive. He trailed off at this point, looking down at his bruised knuckes.

Danny took hold of his partners arm and looked straight into his eyes.

"I don't have any easy answers Martin, you know what I think of your old man, and Jack feels the same. Personally I think he nearly got you killed, but I don't for one moment think he meant that to happen. I mean what happened to me and what happened to you, their miles and miles apart, everything about our lives was...going through all that, and living with it ever since and now having to go through it all again…"

He paused as if looking for some way of describing what he felt. "Well, it sucked."

Martin couldn't help smiling. "Yeah, it did. But maybe in some weird kind of way it's brought closure…" he trailed off, a yawn escaping him.

"You know I'm no shrink, but if you ever feel like being un-Fitzgerald like and talk about it…well...you know…"

"I know." Martin smiled his thanks and then yawned, tiredness and a dull throb in his head taking over. Before closing his eyes he said "Go home Taylor, you'll scare away my pretty night nurse.

"Pretty eh" Danny waggled his eyebrows… "In that case no way, I am definitely sticking around. "He moved around in the hard plastic seat as if trying to make himself more comfortable. "Besides, someone needs to watch your skinny ass in case you get yourself into more trouble."

Martin smiled, his eyes closed. "Thanks Danny" Ten seconds later he was fast asleep.

No problem, Danny whispered to himself as he looked gratefully over the slightly snoring but live figure in the bed in front of him. "Anytime."