Author's Note: Thanks for reading, everyone! I love all the mixed reviews, and welcome more, even if you didn't like it. I'm always trying to get better. Anyway, I'm just going in a different direction, and apologies for Martin's character in this chapter. I was feeling a little out of sorts when I wrote him.Again, I own nothing.

Chapter 3

12:47.

"Hey, babe." Sam jumped and turned to see Martin's smiling face grinning down at her from the gray walls of her cubicle. She glanced around nervously before putting her hand around her face as a shield.

"I told you not to call me that here," Sam whispered. Martin shrugged and pulled up a chair beside her. "What are you doing?" He looked up at her sarcastically.

"Sitting on a chair next to my partner to whom I am going to relay important information about our new case," Martin said in a low, exaggerated whisper. "Don't worry, it happens all the time here. Especially when people come in late." Sam sighed and turned back to her computer. He was not making this easy for her.

"Relax, I'm just playing with you," Martin laughed when he saw her frustration mounting. "Are you alright today? You left early this morning and I barely heard two words from you." He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and she leaned towards his hand, wanting to be comforted more than his closeness. She drew back and sat up straight in her chair.

"Not now," she murmured, hurriedly opening the digital report of the case file on her desktop. "So what have we got?" Martin began to explain, but was cut off.

"Two girls, fourteen and sixteen, missing at around six last night," Danny announced, dropping the actual file into Sam's lap. "Mother's a recovering druggie, father's deceased, possible lead with the sixteen-year-old girl's boyfriend who saw them last in Central Park."

Sam flipped through the vanilla file and glanced at the two pictures of the girls, eyebrows raised. They couldn't look more different. One had fair, freckled skin and buttery blonde hair, while the other had an olive complexion and dark burgundy hair. The blonde, obviously the elder, was slender, petite, and flashed a brilliant smile. Her sister's picture portrayed her hunched over a small, outdoor garden, face smudged and tall, awkward body straining over a basket of tomato plants.

Martin tapped on the school records with his ridiculously expensive pen. "Vivian checked out the Academy earlier, and as you could have guessed, the older girl is into everything. Volleyball, Tennis, school plays, coalition." Sam looked at the younger sister's record with a pang of sympathy.

"Newspaper, Art club, Speech," Samantha read over teacher comments criticizing her 'sullenness and condescension in the classroom.' She glanced at her transcripts and raised her eyebrows. Apparently, she had every right to condescend. The girl had all A's except for Choir. "Well, her grades are skyrocketing, and her sister is the social queen of the school. Nothing here suggests they had anything to run away from."

"I'd think having a junkie mother is a pretty good reason," Martin mulled. Sam nodded, but shook her head.

"They've never rebelled before," she thought out loud, "Why now, if that's what this is?" Danny bit into a bright red apple and splayed them with apple juice.

"She's right," he agreed, mouth full of apple. Vivian appeared from behind Danny and handed them all a photograph of a black haired teenager with just about everything on his face pierced. "Little sister's boyfriend?"

Vivian shook her head. "Big sister's." Danny choked on his apple and Martin looked up. "Don't judge, boys. We picked him up about an hour ago for possession of marijuana." Her eyes hesitated on Samantha who begged them to move on. "Are you two up for an interrogation, or should I have Jack take care of this?" Martin and Danny stood and made their way toward the interrogation room. Samantha watched them enter the small white room and wondered if the words she spoke there still hung in the air, wondered if Martin would inhale them and immediately interpreted them and came back out and called her a filthy, cheating, whore—

"Samantha," Vivian looked at her concernedly, and watched her thoughts slowly return to earth. "Are you alright?" Sam nodded and tucked the case file and new photos into her briefcase. "You're sure?"

"Never been better," Sam lied easily, knowing Vivian saw right through it, but not caring. "Where am I off to?" Vivian hesitated before telling her.

"Jack's waiting in his office. You two are driving out to Winchester, Virginia."

Sam swallowed the knot forming in her throat. "What's in Virginia?"

"The rehab center Mrs. Romero stayed in before she came here," Vivian answered. Samantha nodded, but frowned.

"Where is Mrs. Romero?" Vivian pointed to the lounge. "She's here? Did we make an arrest?"

"She came of her own will. She says she's not leaving until she sees her daughters again," Vivian sighed. "Well, we can't just throw her out." Samantha nodded before grabbing her jacket and suitcase. "Just keep your head on your shoulders and you'll be fine. Take it slow." Ignoring the comment and squeezing Vivian's hand instead, she made her way to Jack's office.

He was on the phone, turned towards his window with his picture of his daughters in his hands. She thought of backing out and leaving him alone, but instead she stayed and listened.

"You tore your tutu?" Jack's voice was tinged with sadness. "And you kept dancing? That's my girl. I'm proud of you, Lizard. Send Daddy lots of pictures, okay? Alright, I'll talk to you later, honey. Love you." He hung up the phone and sat there for a moment, fingers still hovering over the phone.

Samantha's insides were twisting with guilt and fear and want. She wanted just to spit the words out at him, scream them into his face just to throw any remaining safety between them to hell. Instead, she cleared her throat, causing him to swivel around in surprise.

"Hey," she murmured.

"Hey," he responded. They stood there at odds for a moment before Jack shook his head. "Sorry, I was a little distracted. Hanna had…"

"A ballet recital," Samantha finished. "You told me about it last week." She shifted her weight and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "So we're driving to Virginia?"

Jack nodded somberly. "Pack an overnight bag. We could be a while." Sam looked up, paling slightly. She was ready for a few hours of isolation with him, but the prospect of several days scared her. She might explode with the disease of her secret spreading through her veins without telling him. "Are you alright?"

She wanted to shoot the next person who asked her that. Sam hitched a smile onto her lips. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'm sorry about this morning. Things were just a little out of control." He didn't press her, although he wanted to. Detachment. Sam headed towards the door. "I'll pack up some things and be back at the office around two, alright?"

"Fine," Jack answered sitting back down. "We'll leave at two thirty." She stepped over the threshold painfully. "Oh, and Sam?" Sam hopefully stuck her head back inside the doorway. "Will you send Vivian in here for a moment? Thanks." He set back to his work and Samantha stared at him, dangerously close to tears.

"Sure," she whispered.

1:31. The Cornerstone Cafe

Martin sat at their booth, reviewing the contents of the menu that had remained the same for the last forty years. Sam had called him about fifteen minutes ago to meet her at the Stone for a quick lunch. He ordered himself a milkshake and a root beer, her favorite. He looked up when the glass door swung open to admit Samantha, hair swirling around her head like a golden halo. She found him and quickly slid into the seat.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized, pecking him on the cheek and removing her jacket. Sam glanced at the drink before her. "Iced tea?" Martin frowned.

"Root beer," he said confusedly. She smiled awkwardly and took a quick sip. A subtle wave of nausea spread over her as the liquid touched her tongue. She couldn't do it. Samantha froze and lifted her hand to her abdomen, a feeling of realization clearing her thoughts and muddling them more at the same time. "I thought you loved root beer."

"Stomachache," she threw at him offhandedly. "Listen, Martin, I wanted to let you know I'll be out of town for a few days. I'm going to Virginia with Jack to check out Mrs. Romero's former rehab center for some leads. I'll have my cell phone so you can call me if you need me." Martin was staring at her blankly. "What?" Sam snapped a bit harsher than she had intended.

"Nothing," he muttered. God, she wanted to tell him. She wanted someone to know, someone beside Vivian. A heavyset waitress took their orders (a double cheeseburger for Martin and a fruit salad for Sam which earned her strange looks from both her boyfriend and the waitress), and left them alone. "Fruit salad? You really must be getting sick." Was he that oblivious to this stranger which had replaced Sam? This stranger eating fruit salad? Not touching root beer? Wasn't the word 'PREGNANCY' flashing across his mind? What the hell was the matter with him?

"So when are you leaving?"

"What the hell is the matter with you?"

Martin's eyes widened in surprise, and Sam held her fingertips to her lips. Had she said that, or were her thoughts so loud inside her head that they echoed in her ears? From the confused expression on Martin's face, she apparently had said them.

"Okay, then…?" Sam put her head in her hands and sighed.

"I didn't mean to say that," she tried to explain, but she honestly was too tired to become angry with him and to frustrated to apologize. "I'm just thinking about a lot of things lately. It didn't mean anything." Martin nodded cautiously and took her hand in his. Samantha squirmed. It was hot and moist because of the humidity of early spring that swirled around them.

The food arrived and she sat back into the firm spine of the booth. They thanked the waitress and accepted the check before beginning to eat. Samantha picked out the pineapple and popped several grapes and strawberries into her mouth, watching Martin's cheeseburger melt all over his fingers. Her eyes sought out the old-fashioned clock. 1:50. She needed to leave soon. Tell him now. Tell him. Just tell him and leave. Easy get away, just smile, tell him about the child growing inside you, and set down four dollars for the tip.

"You should get going, shouldn't you?" Martin checked his watch, and wiped his ketchup-stained mouth. "Jack hates to wait, if I know him at all." Oh, for Christ's sake, Martin, could you manage just a little envy? Aren't you jealous? Don't you care that your girlfriend is spending three days alone with the man she had an affair with?

"I hate to leave you by yourself," Samantha squeezed out with deceptive syrup in her voice. Martin swallowed hard and pulled her down to him for a long, mustard-flavored kiss. She resisted the urge to lick her lips and smiled. "Alright then…" I'M PREGNANT, YOU BASTARD! PREGNANT! "Take care." He nodded and directed his attention back to his burger. She wanted to throw the take-out fruit at him, especially the vile pineapple, but instead she flew out of the doors and walked the two blocks from the Stone to the office.