Chapter Seven

Present Day

Samantha sat at the kitchen table watching Sophie do her homework. It wasn't just because her daughter had initially asked for her help regarding the seven-times-table, but in these moments of silence, other than the scratching of the pen in her daughter's hand and the occasional question asked and answered, Sam thought about the ramifications of her actions from so many years earlier.

She thought about when it was revealed that Danny was the father of this now beautiful little girl sitting before her, and then to how her colleagues and fellow agents reacted. It seemed that the moment word got out that she was pregnant, and to Danny Taylor, everyone turned against her. She could still, even to this very day, remember hearing conversations in the ladies room that she wasn't meant to hear;

"Wait a minute, wasn't she dating Fitzgerald?"

"Yeah I thought she was too. But you saw her and Taylor together, always flirting, and have you ever noticed how he calls her hot stuff?"

"No I hadn't, but I just remembered, that old rumour that she was sleeping with her SAC, Jack Malone."

"Ugh, Fitzgerald and Taylor, now they're good taste but Malone…"

To Sam, it had seemed like everyone around her was whispering. At first, she thought she could handle it; ignore it just like she used to, but in the end she realized all she had done was bottle the pain, and not move on and learn from it.

And now, here she was, working as a receptionist at Mason and Walker; Attorney's at Law, and raising a daughter who was fathered by a man that truthfully, she could not, and would never love.

"Mommy, how many 7's go into 42?" Sophie looked up at her mother, who was staring out the window, her mind racing with thoughts that had kept her awake all of the previous night; Martin was back.

"Hmm, sorry?" Sam turned to her daughter after realizing she had been addressed.

"How many 7's go into 42?" The little girl asked again.

To date, both Sam and Danny were perplexed. Two successful FBI Agents surely could produce a daughter with characteristics similar to their parents; reading people, and recognizing when something was wrong with someone. So far, Sophie appeared to be at a loss for such abilities, which secretly pleased both her parents, who, knowing what dangers their job's had, didn't want their daughter to follow in their footprints.

Sam looked at her daughter, then tilted her gaze towards the table, in particular to a multiplication table resting just above the page Sophie was working on. "Why do you ask me such questions when the answer's right in front of you?" Sam asked, leaning back in her chair and smirking at her daughter.

"The answer's six; I just wanted to see if you knew that." Sophie responded, looking back at the page and resuming her work.

"Why did you want to see if I knew my seven-times-tables?" Sam asked, leaning forward in the chair and leaning her chin against her hands.

"Because Mr. Tellerman told us that most of our parents don't know their times-tables so we should test them." The young girl responded.

"Mr. Tellerman?" Sam asked, her brain kicking into agent mode. "This being the same Mr. Tellerman who told your father at the last parents-night that most parents don't realize their children are smarter than them?"

Sophie looked up at her mother and shrugged, before the thudding of footsteps sounded down the hallway, indicating Danny's return from the shower. "Hey." He greeted as he entered the kitchen, heading straight for the glasses cupboard, and then to the tap.

"Apparently Mr. Arnold Tellerman's purge on parental intelligence has taken a much more subtle turn, but still with the same objective." Sam announced as Danny walked behind her.

"Really?" Danny asked, sounding half interested.

"Apparently, well according to this one," she pointed to Sophie as Danny turned to face them; "most parents don't know their times-tables."

Danny nodded behind Sam who couldn't see him, but winking at his daughter. "I can understand that. Of course, most parents are not current or former Federal Officer's, so therefore intelligence is limited." He stated simply, ignoring Sam's look, instead walking up behind his daughter and peeping at her work.

"49 is seven seven's, not 48." He commented, before moving to leave the room. Sam rolled her eyes, before noting that her husband had gone. Leaving her daughter to continue her work she followed him down the hallway into their room, finding him collapsing onto the bed, face first.

"Is something wrong?" She asked from the doorway.

From the bed Danny shrugged, not rolling over.

"Danny. You've hardly spoken to me all day, and whenever you talk to Sophie you sound as though you're on your deathbed." She stated, closing the door so that Sophie couldn't hear the potential argument that was about to erupt.

Danny rolled over and stared at her, and as she returned his gaze, she could see the whites of his eyes tinged with redness, as though he'd been crying for ours. "That's a stupid question, because you already know the answers." He retorted harshly.

Sam stared at him furiously, unable to comprehend what he was talking about before it hit her; this was about Martin. "Martin? Tell me this isn't about him, please."

"I know you love him, Sam. I know how upset you were when you found out Sophie wasn't his, that you had no reason to fight for him, and I know how reluctant you were to marry me."

"Oh don't start this again." Sam retorted, interrupting him. "You weren't pushing me, and don't you dare criticize who I love, because I'm pretty sure you don't love me either."

Danny dropped his head, and both of them hated where this conversation could only go. For seven years they had barely spoken about the issues revolving around their marriage, but both knew that if they came up, heated words would be said that would be difficult to forgive.

"You know Martin's reaction when he found out that you were the other man. I was there, remember. I saw his anger, and what it did to you." Sam remembered back to that horrible night. Martin had been in DC recovering for almost three months. Sam and Danny were heading to her apartment after an ultrasound and discussing their options, knowing the truth. Neither knew Martin was around the hallway corner, having heard enough. Neither could have been prepared for the showing of anger they received – breaking Danny's arm and leaving him with a bruised lung, and a cracked rib. The memory of it made them both shudder.

"You also should remember why I didn't press charges." Danny retorted, instantly regretting it.

"You weren't retaliating, and we've moved away from the point. And that, I'm afraid to say, is that you think, I'm going to run away with him, and take your daughter with me. I may be selfish, but for heaven's sake, don't for one minute believe I would do anything to ruin my daughter's happiness."

"And you believe that her happiness is being around two parents who don't love one another?" Danny retorted staring up at her.

Sam inwardly moaned; they hardly ever argued and when they did hundreds of insecurities flew out of each others mouths. A shrink would have so much fun with them. "I believe that Sophie needs to be with her parents. If I didn't believe that, you and I wouldn't be married, and I would have moved somewhere in the world where I knew I couldn't be found by anyone from my past." She sent him one final look and left the room, returning to the kitchen and finding Sophie, still working on her homework, but now with the radio on, her head bouncing to the beat.

How life could be cruel. Sam knew Danny had half a point in criticizing their marriage, but what was she supposed to do? Both she and Danny had grown up in families where a parent was either missing or abusive or drunk or ignorant of their children's needs. Of course, Danny also had the bonus factor of a coke-addicted older brother, whilst Sam just had a sister who was raped. Bringing Sophie into the world was for both, an opportunity to move on from the past. Whilst Danny was already once again re-connecting with his brother, Sam made an effort to contact her sister (thank god for the Government, otherwise Sam never would have found her).

But seven years later, and both were feeling that the many cracks that had come with their marriage were no closer to mending, but in fact, they had widened.

Sam left the kitchen and walked out into the backyard, taking a seat on the step, hugging herself whilst looking up to the smog-covered city. This life, this wound in this marriage needed to be stitched, but only the band-aids were in reach.

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