Title: Ice Forms Over

Disclaimer: Slash, language, violence, and angst.

POV: Danny

Chapter Three: Answer Me Tomorrow

Some weeks later…

The office is busy early in the morning. Vivian sits at her desk looking over a piece of paper on her desk. Elena leans over her shoulder, talking, and pointing to something on that same piece of paper. Jack is in his office and already on the phone. Work never stops. People are always going missing and we always have work to do. It is New York after all.

Sam breezes into the office. Her blond hair is up in its trademark ponytail. She's dressed in navy blue from head to toe. It's been some time since the ambush. Since that day Samantha has been oddly quiet. I know that she had a thing for Martin. I thought that it was over, maybe I'm wrong. She waves to Vivian and Elena before her eyes fall on Jack, still on the phone in his office. Is that longing in her eyes? Jack and Sam had had an affair. I'm not sure if Jack ever knew about Martin and Sam, not that it's really any of his business. Or mine, for that matter.

I smile as her gaze shifts to me. Like the last few days she makes her way over to my desk. I know what is on her mind. I know what she's going to say before she even says it.

"Morning, Danny," she says in a quiet voice. "How is Martin?"

"He's fine, Sam, just like he was yesterday," I reply. It's the same question day after day. Why she won't go to the hospital and see him herself, I don't understand.

She makes her way to her desk. "Thanks."

I swivel around in my chair to face her. "Some good news, he'll be getting out tonight."

"Oh, that is good," she says. Then she turns her back on me to start her work. I'm not surprised; everything about Sam has been off.

Jack comes out of his office and work starts. The day is a busy one as we track down a missing drug dealer. The poor bastard got kidnapped by one of his own clients who was hyped up on Ecstasy. Half way through the day Jack directed Sam and Vivian to another case. Vivian probably did all the work herself, at least all the interviewing. Both cases turn out well in the end either way. At the end of the day Jack takes Vivian into his office and seemingly yells at her. I look at Elena who just shrugs her shoulders. Neither one of us knows what's going on. Meanwhile, Sam is off in her own little world. I feel guilty about not helping her to feel better. But someone has to be there for Martin and I'm the only one who is. Vivian has a family of her own and Elena, well, she doesn't know Martin that well.

I drive to the hospital to pick up Martin. He was technically released earlier in the day. The hospital let him stay until I could pick him up after hours. They never ask questions when it comes to the FBI. No one really does. I find him sitting in his room.

"Nice wheels," I say when I see his wheelchair.

He grimaces. "Don't remind me. This thing is so damn uncomfortable."

The doctor comes into the room before I can think up any old man jokes. He introduces himself, even though I already know who he is. I visit the hospital nearly every day. Perhaps the doctor sees so many people that he never remembers them.

"Mr. Taylor, will you be the one watching over Martin?" He asks.

"Watching over?" I echo.

"Yes, Martin will be in that wheelchair for about two weeks. Then he'll have his first physical therapy session and things will go from there," the doctor explains. "He is allowed to move around but I don't want him walking more than an hour every day. The wound is still fresh. The skin needs more time to strength. Too much exercise could reverse the healing."

I look at Martin. "Looks like you're staying at my place for a while. Think you can handle that?"

"As long as you don't leave your underwear all over the place."

I pat him on the shoulder. "I think we'll be alright, doc."

He smiles half-heartedly. "Now Martin, I want to see you at the end of the week. So take care of yourself."

A few more instructions and we're out the door. Martin is quiet until we reach my car. I open the passenger door and look at him. The thought of lifting him into the car crosses my mind. Martin has other ideas. He stumbles from the wheelchair into the leather seat and closes the door. It takes me a minute or two to fold up the wheelchair and place it in the trunk. Martin doesn't talk on the way to my place so I tell him about work. I fill him in on Jack's family life; Vivian's heart condition; Elena trying to teach Sam how to speak Spanish; and some of the cases we've worked. I make sure to leave out that Sam is acting weird. That and the fact that a numb feeling has filled my body since that fateful day.

As we ride the elevator to my apartment I think about the hospital and the things I said to Martin. Friendships blossom into romances all the time. Why is this any different? Is it because Martin and I are guys? That doesn't bother me. I've always known that both sexes are attractive. Could it be because of Sam and her feelings? Or is it the fear of others finding out and not being supportive?

"What do you want for dinner?" I ask Martin as I unlock the door to my place.

"Nothing, I don't feel like eating," he says wheeling himself in.

I follow him, closing and locking the door behind us. "You have to eat, the doctor said so. It'll help your body heal."

He shakes his head. "I'm not hungry. I just want to sleep. Is that okay?"

"Of course," I reply. "Why don't you sleep in my bed, I'll take the couch. Tomorrow we can pick up few of your things."

"I'm not going to stay here, Danny. I can take care of myself," he remarks. "I'm not a baby. I'm a full grown adult."

"You're staying here. I told the doctor I'd watch over you and I'm keeping my word. I'll send you to stay with Jack if you keep it up," I threaten.

He looks at the floor, his hands in his lap. "Fine, whatever. But don't treat me like a fucking kid. You can still go to work during the day. No reason for the two of us to be gone. Jack needs you."

"He needs you too, Martin. That's why you need to get better. The office isn't the same without you. I can actually see your desk it's so clean," I smile.

He plucks a pillow from the couch beside him and throws it at me. We laugh as it falls short and lands at my feet. That's the Martin I know and love. The life-loving young man. Not the wheelchair bound depressive. He yawns and stretches his arms above his head. The stretch brings a flash of pain across his face. The good mood is shattered.

"You should be getting to bed," I say. He nods in agreement. "You want me to help you?"

"No," I think I can handle it."

"Well, if you do need help just yell. I'll be out here."

He nods as he wheels himself off. The door to my bedroom closes and I sit on the couch. Hours pass before I finally curl up to sleep away what's left of the night. Tomorrow is another day. Another day that Martin won't learn about my true feelings. Even though he's sleeping just a few feet away, in my bed. I hug a pillow to my chest. Martin is sleeping in my bed. It's like one of my dreams, only I'm not with him. I'm sleeping on the couch. Will I always be sleeping on the couch? Tomorrow is another day….