Chapter 12
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A few hours later Martin found himself in his bed staring at ceiling tiles, again. By his count there were eighteen directly above him. He leaned forward, pounded his pillow into submission, and rolled over onto his side for a change of scenery. Now instead of staring at the ceiling he could stare at the wall.
Woo and Hoo.
Martin was lying there with his thoughts, thinking about all that he had been through in the last few months. Well, the last few months he could remember. And as was the case when he was alone in bed at night, his mind drifted towards thoughts of Sam. He found himself wondering what she was up to back in New York. Was she working on a case or puttering around her apartment? Was she thinking of him?
His mother kept encouraging him to call Sam, so she could at least have some peace of mind and know he was okay. The problem was he didn't feel okay. And while his mom kept insisting that Sam still cared about him, Martin couldn't help but feel that Sam's feelings were born out of guilt and the last thing he wanted was for Sam to try and reconcile with him based on some sort of misguided obligation.
It was disconcerting that his mom and Sam had forged a sort of friendship. Sam, who did everything she could to avoid meeting his family, was now suddenly his mom's new best friend? While she did agree to attend his cousin's wedding, it wasn't until five days after he asked and by then he'd had enough.
He still felt pangs of guilt about how and where he ended their relationship but he needed to be cold – that was the only way he was able to do it. It was one of the hardest things he ever had to do but he knew that if he continued to wait on her, hoping and praying that she would come around and accept him as being in her life, he might never recover.
He should have listened when she told him she liked her relationships 'nice and complicated' but the heart wants what it wants. Martin reminded himself it wasn't always a complicated mess, there were also moments of fun, passion and tenderness. And it was those moments that kept him coming back day after day.
"Ouch." Sam whispered as Martin applied topical anti-bacterial cream to the cuts on her face.
"Sorry." He softly replied.
"That's okay, not your fault." She gave Martin a small smile but winced when it caused pain to her cheeks.
They were in Sam's bathroom; she was sitting on top of the toilet with her legs between Martins, as he sat perched on the edge of the tub. After she was released from the hospital, Jack said that they could get her statement in the morning and she should just go home and get some rest. Martin volunteered to drive her home.
"Just stay still, I'm almost finished." Martin was trying to be as gentle as possible as he finished applying the ointment. He couldn't help but realize this was the first time he could just touch her without it being about sex or desire. She just let him take care of her and he realized just how precious that was. "There, all done."
"Thanks." She gave him a half smile, stood up and walked back into the bedroom.
Martin put the cap back on the cream and wished there was more he could do to help. He tried to suppress the nagging feeling that he had almost lost her, that she could have been killed today. If he and Jack had arrived just a few minutes later she might be down at the morgue right now. Shaking off his morbid thoughts, he put the tube in the medicine cabinet, washed his hands and went off in search of Sam.
He found her sitting on her bed trying to remove her top without touching her face and she was failing miserably. He silently walked up to her, gestured that he would do it, and gently removed her tank top as well as the rest of her clothes. He picked up the t-shirt that Sam selected to sleep in: it was his favorite t-shirt from college, and while on a normal evening he would argue that it was sacrilege to use it as pajamas, knowing that this was the shirt she selected to wear on a night she needed comfort squeezed his heart and he couldn't deny her.
After carefully moving it over her head, avoiding contact with her face, he helped her into bed, tucking her in tightly.
"Do you want to take something for the pain?" He asked, tucking her hair behind her ears.
She shook her head, "Stay with me."
"Of course, I'll go lock up and be right back, okay?"
After making the rounds locking doors and windows, he returned to the bedroom, stripped off his clothes, clicked off the light and crawled into bed beside her. He put one arm under his head and the other casually slung over her side when suddenly Sam pulled him tighter. He kissed her temple before resting his head behind hers. They lay like that as the lights of the city filtered into the bedroom. After a few minutes Sam spoke up.
"I haven't talked to my mom in six years."
It took Martin a moment to process what she said, and unsure where this conversation was headed, he simply asked "Why?"
"Whenever we talked we'd end up fighting." Martin could feel Sam's body tense up so he tightened his arm around her. "I was so mad at her because she never had time for me or my sister. She was never around but still expected us to do what she said. So, of course, I did the opposite."
Martin remained quiet, he knew that this was not an easy thing for Sam to share.
"There was a little girl at the motel who reminded me of when I was her age, waiting up for mom to get home just so we could spend a little time together." Sam sighed heavily. "Looking at her and Colleen, I realized that my mom was just trying to do the best she could. She worked two jobs, trying to raise two girls on her own and sacrificed so much of her own life so we'd be okay. And I threw it back in her face, like it still wasn't good enough."
Although he couldn't see her face, he could tell by her hitched breathing that she was crying. He planted soft kisses on her head, hair and temple until her crying jag subsided.
They lay together for quite awhile; Sam staring out the window and Martin watching the back of her head and waiting for her to start speaking again. He could see her eyelashes flickering, so he knew she was awake and contemplating something.
"You should call her." Martin murmured quietly. He waited a moment, unsure if she had been listening or was still lost in her thoughts.
"I can't, it's not that easy." Sam's voice finally creaked.
"Yes, it is. She's still your mom, Sam. She loves you and wants to hear from you."
"What would I say? It's been so long."
"It doesn't matter what you say, she's your family."
"I don't know, Martin, the phone works both ways. Maybe she's happy with the way things are."
"You don't believe that, Sam. Someone just has to have the courage to actually pick up the phone." Martin nudged her slightly and added, "And I've seen you in action, Agent Spade, and you seem pretty courageous."
In the dim light he could still see Sam smile and close her eyes as she whispered, "Thank you, Martin."
She pulled him closer as they drifted off to sleep.
The next night Sam told Martin that when she went to the motel to pick up her stuff she chatted with the little girl and decided to call her mom. She said it was great, her mom sounded really happy to hear from her. She spent the rest of the night sharing all the news from Kenosha. She seemed so happy, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and Martin had hoped it was a sign of great things to come.
Martin rolled back onto his back wishing that he still believed that all it takes to initiate reconciliation was a little courage.
