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chapter ten
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and it's all in how you mix the two
and it starts just where the light exists
it's a feeling that you cannot miss
and it burns a hole through everyone that feels it
-The Used, "Blue and Yellow"
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Hi Everyone,
First off, thank you for all of your support and encouragement. My family settled into Seattle over the weekend, and we're all doing well. My mom tried to keep me distracted as much as possible with sightseeing. All the normal tourist stuff. She kept us busy: I think she's worried that I'm worrying about everything too much.
I can't worry, though. I want to do this.
I'm just glad that all of the work my parents did to track down my biological relatives paid off. Dr. Kent says that transplant success rate is much higher when a blood relative donates, so I have to take that as a good sign.
Tomorrow morning, I have to check into the hospital so that I can start my pre-transplant induction chemo and radiation. They say the timing will work out really well because by the time I am done with this round of chemo, my donor will be done with the Filgrastim injections.
It seems strange to call her my donor, since technically she's my aunt too. My aunt who I've never met. When this is all over, I want to go to New York to meet her and my birth mother. I've always known that I was adopted, but I've never been interested in my biological family members before. Now though, I can't help it. The entire rest of my life is determined by genetics. You'd be curious too, I'm sure of it.
They say blood is thicker than water, right? Well, in my case, blood is thicker than everything.
And speaking of blood, I have to be up bright and early to get mine drawn tomorrow morning. Let the leeching begin! ;-)
I will try to update as often as possible during the transplant to let you know how I am doing. On behalf of my entire family, we appreciate your thoughts and prayers.
Until next time.
posted by Randy; 12 Mar 2007 at 9:37 pm
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Martin heard footsteps behind him and minimized the window, before glancing around and realizing it was only Danny and Elena deep in conversation. They went immediately towards the break room, obviously taking advantage of the fact that no case had come in yet.
He shifted the mouse to hover over the browser window once again, and fought to quell the feeling of guilt that suddenly rose up, as though he were further spying on Sam by reading her nephew's blog. He tapped his fingers nervously against the mouse before depressing the button and bringing the site back up on his computer screen once more.
His internet search for information on bone marrow donation had reminded him of the website on Randy's father's business card, and his curiosity had gotten the best of him before he realized what he was doing. He scanned the website in front of him, giving another once-over to the blog entry that Randy posted the previous evening. He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair before closing the window, silently willing his focus on anything else. He had felt much better, overall, after talking with Ed just two days ago, and getting all of his fear and confusion out in the open.
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Ed sat across from him in silence for a few minutes, before leaning forward and narrowing his eyes intensely. "What do you mean, you could actually 'see' her?"
Martin sighed inwardly and replied, "Samantha is ... she's not like anyone else I've ever known. She doesn't just tell you something about her personal life unless she really wants you to know. She's normally very calculated and deliberate, but this was spontaneous and not like her at all."
"And you're wondering what this means for the two of you, after all of this time?" Ed said, nodding.
"No," Martin shook his head insistently. "I'm wondering why it was me, and not Jack."
Ed crossed his arms and leaned back, tilting his head to one side as he replied, "You're friends, you see each other every day. It can't just be that simple?"
"It's never that simple with her," Martin admitted, lifting the cup to his lips and taking a long drink. It was not the liquid courage that he needed, but it would have to do. "It's not easy being 'just friends' with Sam when every day I'm reminded of how much I feel like I'm in a bad movie. It's easier to keep my distance, you know? Because if I don't, she'll do something like this and remind me of all the reasons that I fell for her in the first place..." He lowered his eyes, avoiding Ed's intense stare. He silently willed his voice not to break, and continued, "I can't remember the way that felt, because then the reality of the matter hits me: I let myself care about her, and I allowed myself to believe that she cared about me too. But the truth always comes out in the end, and plain and simple, Sam loves Jack. I never even had a chance."
Ed coughed and cleared his throat, his eyes wide and his expression empathetic. "Are you sure it has to be that complicated, Martin? After all, she could have told anyone, but she chose you."
Martin laughed bitterly and his eyes closed as he shook the overwhelming feeling of his own remorse. "Sam never chose me. It was just like when we first got together: Jack was gone, and I just happened to be there."
"Martin," Ed spoke slowly and deliberately, instantly reminding Martin of therapy sessions with Lisa. "I know that this is something that you've been struggling with for awhile now, but you've always had an excuse to push it off to one side. From what I understand, the ambush happened just a few weeks after you ended things with Sam. I think you need to consider the possibility that you never really allowed yourself to get over her..."
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"Where the hell is everyone else?" Jack called gruffly, abruptly breaking Martin's train of thought. "We've got one."
Martin cast a quick glance over his shoulder, taking in Jack's stiff posture and obvious annoyance that the rest of the team had presently disbanded. Thinking better of talking back, Martin stood from his chair and walked to the DOD board, where Jack was pinning up the picture of a smiling young woman holding a toddler.
"Deirdre Fuller, 28, and her daughter Ella, 2. Fiancé called it in this morning, says they never made it home last night," Jack rattled off the basic details of the case before sighing in frustration. "Where the hell is everyone?" he repeated, eyeing Martin intently.
Martin crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders before replying, "Danny and Elena are in the break room, I have no idea where Viv is, and," he paused, glancing down at his watch, "It's not 10:00 yet, so I'd assume that's why Sam isn't in."
"Oh, right," Jack said absent-mindedly. "She's got that transplant stuff."
"Yeah, pretreatment for the bone marrow donation. She has to get the Filgrastim injections every day this week," Martin interjected. "I think it's a good thing that she can do PBSC. It's supposed to make it easier on the donor as far as recovery time."
"PBSC?" Jack questioned, taking a black marker and beginning to put what little information he had about the case up on the Day of Disappearance outline.
"Yeah, instead of the actual surgical procedure." Martin explained, matter-of-factly. In spite of the peace he had felt after his conversation with Ed over the weekend, the fact remained that he still cared about her, and he worried about her own health and the risks that bone marrow donation might pose to her. He had been relieved to discover just how much safer the peripheral blood cell transplant seemed to be. As far as what he understood, it seemed no more dangerous than donating blood.
Jack sighed. "Alright, well why don't you start working on phone records and bank statements; when Sam gets in, she can help you out."
Jack's body language signaled that the conversation was over, but he made no effort to move. Martin studied his boss cautiously, considering his slightly erratic behavior since returning from Kenosha with Sam. Suddenly, it dawned on him that Sam had not simply chosen to confide in him because he was there. Jack knew, too; there was no other explanation. Jack gave only vague details of what had happened in Kenosha because he knew, and he thought he was protecting her.
But putting the pieces together, Sam had given no such indication that she wanted that protection. She may love Jack, but Jack had apparently forgotten that Sam was an independent woman who insisted upon making her own decisions. He bit his tongue, knowing it must be tearing her up inside to try to juggle her desire independence and her feelings for Jack.
He forced a tight smile and exhaled, not wanting to dwell on thoughts of Sam and Jack any longer.
"Yes?" Jack said curtly, and Martin realized that he had been staring awkwardly into space.
He turned his body to face Jack head on. "Nothing," he crossed his arms and frowned. "But really, she was fourteen. She found him raping her older sister. Did you honestly think that they would have incarcerated her?"
Jack narrowed his eyes, not quite hiding the mix of surprise and hostility in his voice. "She told you?"
Martin sighed and rubbed his chin, replying in kind, "I kind of got the impression that she wanted to tell everyone."
Jack did not acknowledge this last statement, and instead turned and left without another word.
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Less than an hour later, Martin sat with his head bent over several stacks of credit card statements and bank records. For someone who was barely making her rent payments each month, Deirdre Fuller certainly had a lot of credit cards.
He heard the slow click of a woman's heals echoing behind him, and cast a glance over his shoulder just in time to see Sam approach, smiling weakly as she said, "Hey, what do you have?"
"Deirdre Fuller and her daughter Ella never came home last night. Fiancé called it in," he explained. "Want a stack of credit card statements?"
Sam eyed the stacks laid out in front of him and raised her eyebrows in jest, "Do I have a choice?"
"Not really," he smiled and pushed one of the stacks towards her as she sat down. "But I can simplify it for you if you want: I'd put money on the motive being related to debt. No pun intended."
Sam laughed, glancing down at the files in front of her. "That bad, huh?"
"Yeah," he leaned forward to prop his head up on his elbow. "She's knee deep in credit card bills, and I can't figure out where she's getting the money to make minimum payments each month. Find the source, and my guess is we'll figure out what happened to her."
Sam nodded, and he noticed her wince subtly as she rotated her neck.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah," she breathed. "It's just side effects of the Filgrastim." She paused, and her eyes locked with his in a gaze that sent shivers down his spine. "I expected to be a little sore... I just didn't know that it would hurt this much."
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