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chapter twenty-two

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i got nothing left to defend
i cannot pretend
that everything makes sense
but does it really matter now
if i do not know how
to figure this thing out
-Lifehouse, "Unknown"

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3:15 pm

Sam shut the bathroom door behind her and immediately began pacing and running her hands along her face. "Okay. Think, think, think, think, damn it," she muttered to herself, sitting down on the toilet, her body tense and weary with stress. "Think, think, think, think."

At least she had managed to pull Barry Mashburn away from the rest of the group so that maybe Naomi could find a way to calm them down -- or at least warn the middle-aged man to stop agitating Mashburn any more than he already had.

Mashburn was paranoid, volatile, and extremely quick-tempered, and he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. That was a dangerous combination, and the situation could deteriorate at any given moment.

She had no idea where Naomi had hidden her badge and gun, but she assumed somewhere toward the back of the store, where she had been when the whole incident broke loose. That meant that if something went down, she might be the only person who could take Mashburn out.

She signed, hearing the phone's incessant ringing in her ears and trying not to get on edge. "Focus, Sam," she muttered to herself. "Just focus."

Loud pounding echoed in the small stall. "Come on, let's go! What are you doing in there?"

Sam fiddled with the faucets, rinsing and drying off her hands. "Just a sec! Coming." She flushed the toilet, opening the door slowly to see Mashburn watching her intently. "Sorry. I -- I was just..."

"No, that's all right. I mean ... You don't have to apologize for everything. Stop saying sorry. It's making me nervous." Barry gave her an awkward smile, appearing uncertain and almost human. A second later, the moment had passed and Barry motioned with his arms for her to get going again.

But Sam knew she had seen something in his eyes. When she returned to sit with the others, she returned with the knowledge that Barry Mashburn, as paranoid and volatile as he seemed, was also human.

She wiped sweat away from her forehead and listened to the incessant ringing of the desk phone. Mashburn was going to need to pick it up soon, or there was going to be trouble.

"It's really hot in here," Naomi rolled up her sleeves and pulled her hair up in a ponytail. She turned to look at the cashier. "It'd be great if we could have some water."

"Yeah, yeah," Mashburn agreed. "And where's the, uh, the thermostat?"

The cashier shook his head. "The store is on the building's control, we don't have a thermostat in here. Don't have any water, either."

Sam nodded in relief as the incessant ringing finally stopped, recognizing that Naomi just wanted to establish the 'need' for something as a bargaining chip.

"Mom, it's really hot in here," the young boy complained, looking extremely uncomfortable and anxious.

"Oh, I know, sweetheart." His mother rubbed his back in an attempt to sooth him.

"What's your name?" Sam turned to face them, knowing that this was her chance to introduce the personal element into the situation.

"This is Kyle. I'm Cheryl."

Sam nodded and smiled. "I'm Samantha."

"I'm Naomi."

"I'm Libby."

"Ted."

"Fran."

"Richard."

One by one, she breathed easer as each person introduced themselves.

And just as she started to catch her breath, the phone once again began ringing.

xx

"Thanks Uncle Marty!"

Bridget threw aside the wrapping paper and ran to the sofa to hug him. Given her size, all she could do was wrap her arms around his legs. He laughed in spite of himself, and reached down to lift her onto his lap. He kissed the top of her head. "You're welcome, sweetie."

Bridget hugged him again and crawled out of his lap, returning to the floor where Kelsey was helping her open her presents. Martin realized once again how much the two girls reminded him of his own sisters as Kelsey whispered in Bridget's ear and pointed at the next present to be unwrapped.

The party itself was over, and now only family remained. The two girls sat in front of the large wooden dollhouse that had been a gift from his parents, and the rest of the family had each given her a set of furniture for one of the rooms.

Kelsey handed her the next gift-wrapped package, and Bridget excitedly tore away at the wrapping paper. As she squealed and ran to thank her Uncle Neal, he thought back to when he had originally told Sam he was coming into town for Bridget's birthday...

Martin twisted the shower faucet, turning the steady stream of water off. He reached for his towel and dried himself off, eventually wrapping the towel securely around his waist as he stepped out of the shower and onto the tile floor of his bathroom.


"Martin?" Sam's voice carried in from the bedroom, sounding still fuzzy and heavy with sleep.

He leaned against the wooden frame that separated the bathroom and his bedroom, smiling at the sight of her. "Hey... Morning," he laughed quietly. She had propped herself up on one elbow, her body lying on her side and facing him. The dark bedspread draped around her chest in contrast with her pale skin. With her free hand, she wiped at her eyes and yawned, the spread falling slightly to reveal some of what she was -- or wasn't -- wearing underneath.

"Mmm, morning." She yawned again. "You're up early. It's Sunday!"

He shook his head and laughed again, louder this time. "It's 9:30, Sam."

"It's Sunday!" She protested. She finally sat up in bed and threw her legs over the side. She bent over, picking his dress shirt up off the floor and slipping her arms through the sleeves. She stood, cracking her lips in a half smile. "There, I'm up. Happy?"

"Very." He smiled, pulling on the hem of his shirt to bring her closer to him. He kissed her.

She scrunched up her nose in mock disgust. "You taste like Listerine."

He rolled his eyes. "At least I don't have morning breath!"

"Not my fault. You were the one who wanted me to wake up with all that noise you were making in the bathroom!" She paused to think for a few minutes. "When is your flight back?"

"I don't have to leave for a few hours yet. I'll leave after lunch." She nodded, resigned, and he looked at her regretfully. "I know, I hate it as much as you do, but you live here and I live there... Geography isn't exactly on our side here."

"It would be different if we could at least work out a phone schedule that would stay the same any given week," she joked, almost half-heartedly to avoid the conversation getting too serious.

"You know I said you could call me any time when I'm at the office late at night... I promise that I'd rather be talking to you than looking over policy changes and working on budget revisions for the eight millionth time." He sat down on the bed and reached out for her hand, pulling her down beside him. "I know this isn't easy, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry."

"I'm going to be back in just a couple of weeks; Bridget's birthday is on the 15th. I figured I'd just take the whole weekend... What do you think?"

She smiled, this time more genuine. "I was thinking that eventually I'd make the trip down to DC and save you from using up all of your frequent flyer miles, but I think that sounds good."

"Hey, if you get really lonely, you could just give me a call whenever you're on your next stakeout..." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, not wanting to ruin their last morning together for a few weeks. If they spent too much time on serious conversation, Sam was going to start closing herself off. He knew she didn't like coming off as vulnerable and that it was going to take some more time before he could get her to truly open up to him. Slowly, he thought he was seeing signs that he was getting there, but he did not want to push his luck. Sam made some of his fellow Senators seem like open books.

"Oh, I don't think our phone calls would be really appropriate..." she said jokingly, rising from the bed and tugging the shirt tighter around her thin frame. She shivered and turned around. "I'm going to take a shower, care to join me?"

"I already showered..." he heard himself protesting before he was aware of what he was saying.

"Yeah," Sam smirked, reaching out her hand. "I know..."

"Victor!" Martin's mother's annoyed voice broke him from his reverie. "Right now?"

"I'm sorry, Lydia. It's work. I really have to take this!"

His mother glared at his father once again as Victor rose from his seat to take the phone call out in the hallway.

Beside him, Becca sighed and rolled her eyes. "Typical Mom and Dad," she whispered.

He nodded and reached out to squeeze her hand. His father was generally a much more attentive grandparent then he had been parent, but Victor still had his moments.

"So, anyway," Rebecca continued, tugging on his hand to get his attention. "I think the girls want to go by Morningside when they take Tim's mom back around dinnertime," she said, referring to the assisted living facility where Katherine Byrne was a resident. "And Caro said she needed to run by the hospital to pick up a few of her residents' charts to review this weekend. I thought maybe we could swing by with her and have a few minutes to talk uninterrupted."

Rebecca was, as always, less than subtle with her intentions. He protested. "I told you, I'm fine. And besides, I have dinner plans tonight."

"I know that," she whispered, gripping his hand more forcefully as if to drive home her point. "And they aren't until 8:00. You have time."

"I'll think about it," he said, removing his hand from hers and motioning to turn their attentions back to where Bridget was opening one of the final packages. He sighed, knowing that where Rebecca was concerned, he was fighting a losing battle.

xx

6:15 pm

Sam glanced around the store as she held the phone to her ear, once again trying to take everything in. Barry's eyes were on her expectantly as she spoke to Jack, trying to sound like a civilian as she gave him clues as to the identities of her fellow hostages.

It had come as a huge surprise to her to learn that Barry's wife had held Libby's job prior to the World Trade Center attacks, learning how Barry likely resented Sydney Harrison merely because she had survived and his wife had not.

But what had come as the biggest surprise was the way that Naomi reacted to the news; no one else in the store had reacted as intensely as Naomi had, her eyes growing wide with shock and then immediately filling with tears. She knew Naomi well and suspected that it was not an act. Her friend seemed genuinely affected by what little they knew of Barry's story. Furthermore, she had been surprised when they were trading stories about where they were on the morning of the attacks and Naomi had said nothing.

Sam shook her train of thought, focusing back on her conversation with Jack and trying to let him know that the person he was missing was Ted, the store employee. Cheryl and Kyle must have been in too much shock to remember everyone's name when Barry had let them go.

It was then that she noticed Richard trying to make his way towards where her bag was hidden. Her heart raced, silently willing Naomi to keep things under control while Barry was intent on the phone conversation between Jack and herself. She knew Richard was trouble by the way he kept glaring at her, probably because he knew she was armed and that she had done nothing.

Panic rose in her voice, and on the other end of the line, she heard Jack sounding concerned. But her attention was no longer focused on the conversation, and rather on the noise that Richard had made as he slapped Naomi's hand away and lunged to the corner of the bookshelf where her own gun lay hidden.

It happened so quickly that she was barely aware of what was happening.

Before she knew it, Barry and Richard were throwing punches at each other and fighting for the gun. She dropped the phone instantly and Naomi stood up, both trying to hold the men back and prevent anyone from getting hurt.

They needed to get a hold of the guns -- and quickly. Jack knew something was going down, and if they weren't careful, SWAT would be on their way in a matter of minutes.

It was too late, though, as she heard one gun shot and then another.

Richard and Barry both backed away from each other. She heard Fran scream and Naomi gasp, and that was when she finally felt the searing pain in her thigh.

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