(Disclaimers got to Prologue, please.)
CHAPTER 4:
The next few days passed relatively unremarkably for the team. Everyone tried to be sensitive regarding the new investigation opened into the deaths of Victor and Jean Fitzgerald. Martin brought a few messages to Meredith's attention but none of them raised any flags of concern. They were nothing more than the usual ramblings of people that had nothing better to do than watch the news for any hint of a scandal or some seamy story and then send a message out to see if a reaction would occur.
Jack kept Martin in the office for the rest of the week to allow his throat to heal as well as the bruises to his body. Martin for his part dealt with the dreaded paperwork as if it was the greatest challenge in his career. He rolled up his sleeves and cleared file after file that needed to be reviewed for any new development and reviewed a few other investigations that were getting close to trial to ensure that the Bureau's documentation was all in order. None of the cases were ones he or any of the MPU team had worked on but sometimes the oversight by a fresh set of eyes was just what was needed to make sure there were no embarrassing moments in court.
Martin hadn't mentioned to Meredith the eerie phone message he received his first day home because he had forgotten about it. He'd been busy with the paperwork, reeling from the shock of learning his parents had been murdered and with nothing having occurred since being attacked in his apartment three days ago, he had pushed it from his mind. Since he was feeling fine no sign of any injury remained except for a bruise and a cut, he didn't give it another thought.
After a weekend spent with his Uncle Roger down in DC sorting through some personal effects at his parents' house, Martin was ready to return to work bright and early Monday morning. Deciding it had been long enough without any morning exercise he left his apartment at 6:00 a.m. planning on a three mile run. Normally he preferred a longer run, but it had been a couple of weeks without regular exercise and it was still pretty chilly in late February. He lived in a decent neighborhood but even decent neighborhoods had their problem areas. If he wasn't running with one of his neighbors, he carried his Bureau-issued gun at his waist.
Martin hated the first half mile of his run. His body needed to adjust to the rhythm – the muscles in his legs, back, his lungs all needed to coordinate. After that though, running became pure pleasure and it was a perfect time to settle into the motion of the exercise and allow his mind to travel freely. Today he let his mind settle on his parents. His mother, smart, active, strong-willed in her own way taught him to appreciate that strength in other women. However, her closed off emotional barriers which he had formerly seen as strength and a quality to be appreciated he now realized were a part of his mother that he had never liked. He appreciated strong, intelligent, self-sufficient women, Sam, Vivian and Elena were prefect examples of that, but at the same time each of them showed vulnerability that he found appealing. It didn't detract from their effectiveness as agents or in their friendship with him. He was slowly beginning to realize that friends are those that see you at your worst, but like you just the same.
Vivian had probably the most reason to be put off by Martin in that his mistake so many years ago could have cost her her career. If not for the OPR finally settling on the word of two agents over that of a scared little girl likely traumatized by her kidnapping and physical injuries, Martin would have been criminally charged and Vivian would have been ousted from the Bureau, disgraced. Over the years he and Vivian's relationship had had some rough moments, but she never backed down in her genuine concern both as a colleague and a friend to him. It was Vivian he turned to when work became overwhelming and he felt lost. Her solid presence was enough to keep him on course. He knew that she felt that from him as well and he watched out for those times when she seemed unusually subdued or troubled by a case. At those times he would offer a gentle word or two and then a silent but solid presence so she would know someone was there if needed.
Sam, now there was someone who knew all about him and yet still called him friend. It had taken him almost two years to break down some of her barriers. He had liked her immediately and she had been kind and willing to teach right from the start. He realized that was Sam's way. She immediately worked with Elena as well and never once played games with Elena or Martin when she was teaching or sharing her experience. What Martin liked best about Sam though were her unguarded moments, when she inadvertently dropped a comment about herself or showed how a case troubled her, too rare, too few were those moments of vulnerability. Again, he wasn't looking for a weepy woman who couldn't handle life, but he did want to be needed and Sam, for all her doggedness to help others when they were in need just wasn't able to trust those around her that she called friends with those weaknesses or needs within herself.
Elena was someone he just liked to work with. They had no history like Vivian, Sam and he. He hadn't done something that caused her to choose protecting him over her own career, they hadn't been involved romantically and Elena hadn't called him on the mat over his drug problem. Elena was tough, capable and highly experienced in the darker side of NYC from her vice experience. They worked well together because each respected the other's experience. She never judged him by his name, seemed not to care. She listened and asked his opinions and readily shared hers. They worked well together and, although he secretly laughed at Danny's inept attempt at subtlety Martin thought they were a good couple. He knew Danny was pretty serious in his feelings towards Elena but office romances or office relationships were still tricky business. He and Sam had worked hard and their friendship was strong. Whatever happened with Danny and Elena, Martin hoped friendship would always remain.
With those thoughts flowing through his brain, sifting and sorting them as they chose Martin failed to register the sound of footsteps keeping pace with his own. So lost in his own thoughts Martin hadn't paid close attention to his route. Realizing he was further away than the three-mile loop he had intended, he stopped near a street light to check his watch. The sky was lightening as sunrise approached but he still needed the aid of the overhead light to see the time. He'd have to hurry or he'd really be late. Checking the street names Martin thought about the quickest way back so he could minimize his late arrival at the office, making up his mind he struck off again.
A few blocks later he stopped quickly at another intersection as he realized he could take a short cut and shave a few blocks from his run, this time his ears registered the unmistakable sounds of footsteps behind him as he stopped but then he didn't hear anymore. He turned and scanned the area behind him but didn't see anyone. Shaking his head he resumed his run home via his newly discovered short-cut and returned to his apartment. 6:45 a.m. Damn. He wanted -- no make that needed to leave by 7:00 a.m. to get to the office at 8:00. Well, good thing he could shower and shave together.
Dashing into his apartment he hit the button on the preset coffeemaker on his way past the kitchen and stripped off his running attire and hit the shower. Eighteen minutes later he dashed the opposite way through his apartment impeccably attired carrying a banana, bagel with peanut butter and a mug of coffee in hand. He opened his apartment door and stepped out. As he was closing the door behind him his eye caught the white paper stuck to his door. Not wanting to take the time to read whatever flyer had been pinned to his door he pulled it from the door and flicked it inside his apartment. He'd read it when he got home. Pulling the door closed behind him he locked the deadbolt and then hurried down the stairs, into the parking garage, got into his car and drove to the office.
The paper that he flicked into his apartment before closing his door didn't neatly land on the table inside the door; Martin's rushed motions and the breeze from the rapid closing of the door combined to cause the paper to slide completely across the surface of the table and off the other side where it landed on top of the stack of sympathy cards and emails that Martin had read and printed off and neatly placed in cardboard box on the floor between his bookcase and desk. He intended to write little response notes over the next several weeks thanking people for their thoughts, gifts, well wishes and sorrow. So, the pile was increased by one lone sheet of paper that slipped off the table, turned over in the air and settled, face down on the pile. The message it contained would be seen by no one until they grabbed that innocent looking piece of paper and turned it over to see the message written by hand in block letters using a black pen:
HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR MORNING RUN I KNOW I DID
TBC…