Chapter 20

XOXOXOX

Sam glanced around the office, making certain that no one was watching as she typed the name in the search box. She checked her surroundings once more before clicking the 'SEND' button. A few seconds later, the DMV photo of Dr. Rachel Chandler filled the screen. She had light brown hair, blue eyes, and a beautiful face. Damn. Not an obvious physical deformity in sight. In fact, she looked – nice, with kind eyes and a sweet smile.

Her eyes slowly started reading through whatever information the FBI database was able to retrieve. It seemed Martin's girlfriend had earned her undergrad degree at Northwestern University, went to medical school at John Hopkins where she graduated at the top of her class before moving on to teach and work at Legacy Emanuel Hospital and Healthy Center in Portland. As she read each piece of information she grew increasingly nauseous but at the same time she couldn't bring herself to stop. Each line made the woman Martin was going to propose to more and more real. She learned that Rachel was fluent in French and an image of her whispering French in Martin's ears appeared in her head. Her father was a physician as well so another image appeared of a woman who most likely fit perfectly in Martin's family with their upper-class upbringing. She served on numerous charity boards and another picture was formed of a woman who probably was generous and giving. As she read more and more she felt smaller and smaller in her chair as she wondered how she could have ever expected to compete. Her stomach twisted inside of her at the sight of a woman who was clearly everything she was not.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Elena asked, striding into the bullpen.

"Nothing," Sam replied, startled. She tried to click on the close button but ended up just making the window smaller instead of closing. She tried to click it again but worried that Elena would offer to try and help her, she quickly spun around in her chair to face her friend. "What's up?"

Elena eyed her curiously and asked, "Do we have a case?"

"No," she replied, a little too defensively for even her own ears.

"You had a DMV photo up on your monitor," Elena commented, motioning to the screen.

Sam shifted in her chair, slowly rolling it over to try and block her friend's view. "No, I mean, yeah I was, but I was just doing my report on the Grimaldi's and I had to pull up Rose's information."

Elena folded her arms and fixed her gaze on Sam. "I know what Mrs. Grimaldi looks like and that was not her." She craned her neck to try and see the image in the window. "What's going on?"

Busted.

She debated on whether or not to continue her lame cover up or just come clean. She decided to trust her friend with the embarrassing truth. She pushed back her chair and confessed, "I was just being nosey." She clicked the button and once again Rachel's face filled the screen. "This is Martin's girlfriend, fiancée, whatever."

Elena stepped forward and studied the photograph. "So that's Rachel?"

Sam had a look of surprise on her face as she asked, "You know about her?"

"Danny told me," she replied softly.

It took her a beat for this bit of information to sink in and then with narrowed eyes, Sam asked, "Did he just tell you or have you known for awhile?" When Elena didn't answer right away Sam pressed, "How long have you known?"

Elena took a breath and leaned on the desk. "A few months."

"And you never thought to tell me?" she asked, unsure if she was angry that Elena knew and didn't tell her or that everyone seemed to know about Rachel before she did. Actually, she was equally pissed off about both of those things.

Elena's lips twitched into a frown. "Look, as far as I knew you and Martin had been over for ages. You've never talked about him to me. In fact, I was kind of surprised when I found out that you used to date."

"Why?" she asked flatly as this little revelation caught her off guard.

The Latina agent shrugged, staring off into the distance as she thought about her reply. "I don't know. He just doesn't seem your type."

Suddenly the air felt thick and heavy, pressing down on her shoulders and pushing her deeper into her chair. "What do you mean by 'not my type'?"

Elena sighed and replied, "I don't know, he's just so…nice."

"And I can't date someone nice?" Sam asked, wounded.

"That's not what I meant," Elena quickly corrected. "I mean, you guys just seem so different that's all."

"So I'm not nice?" she said accusatorially.

"I didn't say that," Elena clarified. She shook her head and looked around before leaning in close and whispering, "You used to confide in me that you were commitment phobic and never 'dated' anyone more than a night or two and then you started seeing Jack who, well, let's be honest, has his own mountain of relationship issues." She sighed and finished, "And while I admit I don't know Martin that well but judging by what I do know, he's looking for something permanent. You're both different, not good or bad, just different."

Sam lowered her eyes and looked away. "I know we seem different but in some ways we are more alike than you might think."

XOX

Martin held the door open for her as they entered Swift's, one of the big three Irish owned bars in Manhattan. The music was loud and the din of multiple conversations all going at once was even louder. It was crowded for a Thursday night but they managed to find two stools at the end of the bar tucked between the red brick wall and two men in matching blue polo shirts with small emblems that read, "DigiTech." She didn't want to feel closed in so she sat down on the stool next to one of the men, leaving Martin to sit up against the wall. He waved the bartender over and they placed their drink orders. A dirty grey goose martini for her and a Guinness for him. She rubbed her hand over her thigh that was throbbing from the short walk over. She was shot months ago but some residue discomfort lingered, catching her off guard when she did the most mundane things.

She stared ahead and watched as a lanky man who looked like he was wearing his grandfather's clothes because they were now considered "vintage" stared into the jukebox, reading through the play lists. A small smile appeared on his lips and he reached into his pocket, deposited some coins into the slot and pressed a few buttons. Moments later a song that she vaguely recognized began to play. She couldn't remember who the artist was but she knew she liked it.

The folksy tune filled the bar: "I worked hard for every little bit I got, and got lucky once on some advice. Met a dark haired girl that the Mississippi moon musta left by mistake one night in a hurry, Lord. And that ain't the hardest part. The hardest part is loving somebody that cares for you so much…"

The bartender placed their drinks on the counter and turned around to help another customer. She reached over and took a drink. The icy cold vodka made a slow burn down her throat as she swallowed. She put her glass back down and plucked the olive off of the toothpick, tossing it in her mouth. As she quickly chewed up the olive she rested her forearm on the brass railing and looked at Martin out of the corner of her eye. "So, um, do you think that the DA is going to press charges against Johnny Atkins? I mean, he did cover up for his mother…" she trailed off. She didn't really want to talk about the Atkins or the case about the missing kids from the bus but she felt a need to say something.

"I don't know," he replied between drinks of his dark frothy beer. "He was put in a tough situation. He was an only child, had no real friends, and the only person he trusted in the world was his mom. I'm not surprised he didn't speak up and tell the truth. Without his mom he doesn't have anyone. I just feel sad for him."

"Most of our cases are sad," she replied softly. She closed her eyes as she took another drink, the music filling her ears.

"The things I got are gonna stay. It's been flooding so hard on them company mines. That you know it's gonna flood somedayand you're gonna miss someone. And that ain't the hardest part.The hardest part is loving somebody…"

When she opened her eyes again to put her drink down Martin leaned in close and asked, "What about you?"

"What about me?" she replied, removing the final olive from the toothpick.

"How do you feel about what happened?" he asked gently.

She pressed the glass to her lips and took a long drink as she considered how to reply. His question was plain and simple but there were so many different answers for it that weren't as easy. She felt angry at Ms. Atkins and her friends who used a bus load of kids to try and hustle Bob Carrol out of money. She felt anxious that her first case back after being shot she had to use her weapon and kill two men. She felt annoyed that Jack made her go home when that was the last place she wanted to be. She felt alone at realizing that her circle of friends and family had dwindled over the years and now the team was all she really had. She felt worried that the team and OPR might think she was unstable as a result of having been shot. She felt scared that maybe they might be right.

But she hadn't drunk enough to confess all of these things to Martin so she lowered her drink and breathed out, "I feel like I can't get my bearings back and I am drifting."

"I know that feeling," he replied, leaning forward, resting his forearm next to hers. He tilted his head and corrected, "I mean, I don't know how you are feeling exactly, I've never been shot or killed anyone, knock wood," he added, tapping the bar's wood surface, "but I know what it's like to feel like you are treading water, looking for something stable to hold onto. It's rough."

She looked over at him, his face in shadows from the dim lighting. "When did you feel that way?"

"When I first started working with you – and the team." He gave her a shy smile and explained, "I wanted so desperately to prove to all of you that I wasn't just Victor Fitzgerald's son but it ended up backfiring in my face – big time." They shared a knowing look. "After that it was like no matter what I did I couldn't seem to get back on track."

"But eventually you did," she said.

"Yeah, thanks to you," he bumped his elbow gently against hers and said, "You would offer me little bits of encouragement and it helped me more than you could ever know."

"I did?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah," he declared. "You made my first few months being the new kid bearable. So how about letting me pay you back?" He turned to face her fully and said, "Sam, it might take you a little time to get back to the groove of things, to regain your full strength, and get back to feeling like the confident, self-assured agent I know you are," he smiled at her, their eyes locked, "But have not doubt, we all still believe in you."

She was touched by his declaration and smiled at him. "Thank you."

He reached over and tenderly ran his hand over her back reassuringly as he laughingly added, "You don't have to thank me; I'm just repaying my debt."

She grinned and lifted up her empty martini glass. "Well, I also accept martini's as a form of payment as well."

He laughed and gestured to the bartender that they wanted another round as the music continued to play.


"I've been turned around, I've been mystified by a true love. And that ain't the hardest part, talkin' bout a true love. And that ain't the hardest part…"

XOX

"And he kept true to his word," Sam finished. "He would always give me a reassuring look or even make a phone call about a case a little more fun."

"It sounds like you guys used to be really close," Elena commented.

"We were…once," she said. She sighed heavily, running her hand over her forehead. "And then we started seeing each other and it all went downhill fast." She lowered her eyes adding, "It's hard to believe that so much time has passed since those days. That we have been over for so long."

Elena nodded her head gently and asked, "If you guys are over why are you looking up his girlfriend?"

"I don't know what I am doing," she replied, confused. "It's just seeing him again has stirred up so many feelings." She met her friend's eyes and said, "I can't stop thinking about him, wondering if we could try again."

Elena nodded her head in understanding before she paused, before she hesitantly began, "Did I ever tell you about Sofie's doll?"

"Her doll?" Sam repeated.

"A month ago I gave one of her old dolls to a neighbor's kid. When she found out what I had done she had a tantrum. She threw herself on the floor and demanded that I get it back, a real hissy fit." Elena shook her head, still looking annoyed by the memory. "She hadn't played with that doll in almost a year but the moment she thought that some other kid might be having fun with it she suddenly wanted it back, claiming it was her favorite toy."

Sam stared at her, waiting to see where her friend was going with this train of thought. "And?"

Elena smiled down at her and finished, "Just be sure that it's him that you want and it's not just because someone else is playing with a toy that you threw away."