Post by Broni on Dec 27, 2012 8:15:50 GMT -5
Merry Christmas everyone!
It's taken me a few days to write this, but it's here nonetheless. I had to write something for Christmas, as I seem to do every year. I hope you all had a great holiday, ate and drank well and were spoilt by your families
Also, I could be persuaded to write a sequel if people desire it...
Title: The Beginnings Of A Blue Christmas.
Author: Broni.
Rating: R.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them.
Summary: Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts – Janice Maeditere.
~*~
He reached to the top of the tree and eased the last ornament onto the top branch carefully, letting it bounce for a second before stepping back and admiring his handiwork.
It was a week before Christmas, and honestly, Martin wasn’t feeling much in the holiday spirit. He didn’t have a woman in his life, his job had caused him more pain than ever before, and not only were his parents spending the holiday in Europe with other extended family, but the Toland’s were traveling down to Miami for the week.
Unfortunately, Martin didn’t get enough time off to be able to fly down and spend the holiday in Miami, so he was stuck in the cold, frigid temperatures of New York City, alone. Thankfully, he’d known early enough so he could plan ahead. He’d bought his turkey meat and set it in the freezer, and he knew a man at a local grocer who he could get some vegetables from at the last minute.
He had a twenty-year-old bottle of Scotch that his father sent him after his first day back at work after the shooting all ready to go, and he had brought presents for his family, wrapped them and set them under his tree, which he had only set up last night. Tonight was the night to decorate the tree, which he had thankfully just finished.
It was filled with old and new ornaments, barely any room left on the tree for anything else, but still, it didn’t do enough to fill him with the usual Christmas cheer.
Maybe he should get some more tinsel? Or lights?
As he reached down and plugged the lights in, watching them flicker to life after their twelve-month slumber, the intercom buzzed, startling him out of his evening reverie. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 9.51. He wasn’t far off going to bed and curling up with a good book. Who would be coming by at this time of night?
With a heavy sigh, he walked to the front door and pressed the intercom button. Hopefully he could get rid of them. “Yeah?”
“Martin, its Sam.”
Three simple words. That’s all it took to make his stomach churn. Samantha. They hadn’t spoken on a personal level in weeks. He couldn’t even remember the last time she’d come to his apartment. Maybe it was not long after he was shot? Those first couple of weeks home were a bit of a blur, but he could vaguely recall her being here, even if it was for a short time.
They had managed to rebuild something that vaguely resembled a friendship in the months since their break up, and he knew that it was mainly due to the shooting. If he hadn’t been shot, she wouldn’t have spoken to him for another few months. It pained him to think that a woman he once loved could behave like a slighted teenage girl.
Had he been that blinded by her brains, beauty and sense of humor before that he’d never noticed she could treat people that way? Perhaps. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had blinders on. He spent so much time with Samantha at work and away, he thought he knew her inside out… well it seemed that love was blind, deaf, and very, very dumb indeed.
He held back a heavy sigh as he replied, “Everything okay?” He didn’t want to let her in unless it was absolutely necessary. The memories of her in his apartment were still quite strong and he hadn’t dated anyone since her.
“I just uh… do you have a minute?”
NO! He wanted to scream that so badly. But how could he? They still had to see each other every day at work, and he didn’t like not having a good working relationship with those around him. He hated the tension that surrounded them after their break up. A tentative friendship was much better than animosity and arguments.
“Sure, come on up.” He pressed the buzzer and stepped back, taking a couple of calming breaths as she made her way up. This was going to be interesting.
A knock at the door almost sounded like two loud gongs in the hallway. He already had this feeling in his gut that the evening was going to be torture for both of them, no matter what she had to talk to him about.
Martin pulled the door open and did his best to offer her a smile. It was hard. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back, the scarf and coat wrapped tight around her body littered with scattered flakes of snow, and her nose and cheeks were a shade of pink due to the cold. How he wanted to take her in a hug and ensure she was warm, as always.
When he opened the door, her lips crept up into a half smile and she shifted on her feet, either out of nervousness or out of being cold, he wasn’t sure. Possibly both. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he breathed, taking another calming breath and telling his heart to stop pounding so fast.
“I’m not interrupting?” Her eyes glanced behind him, searching the living room though he wasn’t sure what for. Another woman, perhaps?
He shook his head and stepped back. “Just the finishing touches on the tree.” He heard her shut the door as he stepped into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure.”
“I got uh, beer, wine – white only, sorry – soda, juice and skim milk,” he replied, opening the fridge door and scanning its contents.
Samantha remained in the living room, and he could hear the surprise in her voice when she answered, “Skim now?”
Martin smiled despite himself. He’d missed hearing her comments about his apartment, even hearing her voice from the living room. “Every little bit helps.”
“Now you see sense,” she murmured.
He shrugged weakly. “I trust the doctors more than you when it comes to my body.” He instantly cringed, hoping he didn’t sound like he was trying to flirt with her. He really wasn’t, though sometimes it was hard not to. They were good at that.
“I guess I can accept that.”
He let out a breath. “So a drink?”
“Juice.”
“Okay.” He poured her a glass of juice and brought it into her, finding her standing by the tree, one of her hands up and her fingers grazing over the ornaments and branches. “Here you go.”
She seemed lost in a daze, but snapped out of it at the sound of his voice. She turned and gave him a weak smile, but it was only then that he realized her eyes were a bit puffy and her cheeks pinker than normal. “Thanks.” She took the glass and had a sip, holding it tight in her hand but turning to look back at the tree. “This looks good.”
“Thanks, it’s my attempt at getting into the holiday spirit,” he breathed, placing his hands on his hips and for what was probably the twentieth time that evening, surveying the tree.
Samantha smiled weakly. “Like every year, it’s a good attempt. Great even.” She sipped some more of her drink and set it on the coffee table, inhaling and exhaling slowly as she looked around his apartment.
Now he was getting curious. “What happened?”
“What?” She didn’t even bother turning around to look at him, and though she tried, he could tell she wasn’t surprised by his question.
“You’re not yourself,” he stated, stepping up behind her though still keeping a bit of distance. “What’s happened Sam?”
She exhaled slowly again, but this time, it wavered. He could hear the tears before he saw them. “It’s uh… Emily died.”
“Emily?” He shook his head weakly, not familiar with the name.
When Samantha turned around, he was surprised to see not only the tears in her eyes but also the confusion on her face. “My sister.”
“You have a sister?”
Samantha rolled her eyes and nodded weakly, looking away from him. “Yeah, I did.”
He wanted to reach out to her, take her in a hug or brush her tears away, but he couldn’t seem to do it. “I’m sorry, Sam. Really I am.”
“Yeah.” She folded her arms over her chest and walked back over to the tree.
“Is there anything I can do?” Though he felt terrible that her sister died, he was still confused as to why she was there with him. Shouldn’t she be organizing time off with Jack and packing to go home for the funeral? Was she planning on going home? She wasn’t close with her family, he knew that. Maybe she was working up the courage to?
“I was going to go there for the holiday,” she admitted softly, looking closely at a star ornament he remembered that she gave him last year for Christmas. The ghost of a smile crossed her face for only the briefest of moments. “I booked my plane ticket last week, organized with Emily and her husband for us to stay at the same hotel, so we wouldn’t have to deal with mom for the entire time.” She shook her head. “She was the only reason I’d go back there.”
Martin didn’t bother stepping closer again. “Have you spoken to your mom?”
“She called me.” Samantha smiled darkly and turned around, meeting his gaze. “She told me straight out that Emily had been hit by a car and she was dead. But do you want to know what I thought of?” She let out a loud laugh. “I wondered how she got my number. I hadn’t given her my new one, or any of my addresses. How crazy is that, right?” She laughed again and shook her head, looking down.
It was a laugh, but it wasn’t an honest Samantha laugh. Martin knew that laugh. “You were in shock. People think strange things when they’re in shock.”
“Yeah… right.” She let out another slow breath. “This was supposed to be a better Christmas. I was actually trying to do something proper with my family. I’ve been doing more yoga and even started meditating so I can control my anger with my mom. I was actually trying to get us together; we were all trying to make things better. Especially since last year, how spending Christmas with you was…”
“Was…?” he prodded.
But Samantha simply shrugged and reached for her glass, finishing all of the juice in one go and taking it into the kitchen, preoccupying herself by rinsing it under the tap. Martin stayed in the living room, not quite sure what to say or do. He didn’t know she had a sister, and certainly didn’t know that she was attempting to get her family back together, because of him?
She took her time in the kitchen. Martin felt terrible, not even being in there with her. She came here for a reason, and though she wasn’t really getting to that just yet, she wanted to be around him. In her time of need, she was here. This was completely unexpected, and he tried to push that surprise out of his mind and focus on her.
It was hard though. Samantha wasn’t into sharing things with him. He’d tried many times both before and during when they were dating to find out more about her past, but she was a closed book. It was one of the reasons he ended it. He couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t completely honest. But now she was… and he couldn’t understand it.
So, since she was here, he was going to do what friends did. He was going to help her, listen to her and do whatever she needed.
“Sam?” He couldn’t hear any movement in the kitchen, and right now, that worried him. “Sam!”
That’s when he heard a glass break followed by a loud curse word. He rushed into the kitchen and found her still leaning over the kitchen sink, both of her hands under the faucet. “Shit… sorry.”
“Here” He ran over to her, grabbing a dish rag on his way and examining her hands. One of them had a gash running down the palm. It wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding. “We should get you to the hospital.”
“No.”
He sighed. She would always be stubborn it seemed. “It’s bleeding quite a bit Sam.”
“It’ll be fine.” She kept it under the running water, but that didn’t stop the bleeding. Her eyes wouldn’t move from the running water.
Martin rested one hand on her back and the other turned the tap off. He turned her to face him and gently wrapped her hand with the cloth, putting some pressure on the wound. Samantha didn’t move or say anything. She was still, her eyes blank and breathing coming out quite shallow. “Sam… I’m sorry for your loss.”
She shook her head. “How is it my loss, Martin? I barely knew her. We were close but then all this stuff happened… I’m sad, but I’m not that sad… I’m just… I’m not that sad.” Her voice began quivering again, and before he knew it, her forehead was resting against his chest and her shoulders were shaking in time with her sobbing. “I’m not sad.”
“Oh Sam…” Going with his gut instinct, he wrapped both his arms around her, rubbing her back and letting her cry against him. She was a strong woman, but he had no idea how much she’d been holding in. She’d never spoken about her past, and it looked like there was a good reason why. “Its okay, it’s okay.”
Samantha brought one hand up to hold his shirt and continued to rest against him, the tears falling freely. It surprised Martin. He’d only seen her cry twice, and both times was due to physical injury. It was never emotional. She never let him see her emotionally, so when she did, like right now, he wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t learnt how to care for her in that way before.
Suddenly, she inhaled sharply and pulled away from him, bringing her good hand up and wiping at the tears on her cheeks. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I should go.”
But Martin wasn’t letting her leave that easy. “No, here.” He took her sore hand again and led her to the kitchen table. “Can I trust you to stay here and not run away when my back is turned?”
She looked up and when their eyes met, he could see a little bit of a gleam, and it wasn’t fresh tears. He smiled in return and dashed off to the bathroom, finding some ointment and a bandage. When he came back into the kitchen, he was honestly surprised to find her still there. She hadn’t moved an inch. Her eyes were now transfixed on the rag around her hand.
“There you are.” He dragged another chair closer and took a seat, reaching for her hand, gently pulling the cloth away and relieved to see that the bleeding had stopped. If it hadn’t, he’d throw her over his shoulder and carry her to a hospital if he had to. “It’s not that bad. Does it hurt?”
“No,” she whispered, unable to pull her intense gaze away from her hand.
Martin dabbed at the blood, cleaning her skin and putting some ointment on it. “You may get a treat if you keep being this cooperative.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“There.” He wrapped the bandage around her hand and secured it. “Not too tight?” She shook her head weakly, still avoiding his gaze. “Sam, hey.” He gently took both her hands in his and dipped his head to get her gaze. “Is there anything I can do?”
She shrugged weakly. “It sucks being this close to the holidays. It sucks that I… that she’s gone and I can’t try and make up with her, you know?” Now she lifted her head and met him through tiny and red eyes. It made his heart clench to see her this sad. “And at Christmas.” She surprised him by letting out a laugh. It wasn’t a happy one, but it wasn’t a sound he expected to hear. “First last year and now this. What are the odds, hm?”
“Last year?” he repeated, shaking his head weakly. “With me?”
Samantha sighed. “I always regretted turning your offer down, to be with you and your family. Maybe I wanted you to convince me more.”
He smiled beside himself. “I was considering kidnapping you after work.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t.” She moved her fingers over one of his hands, and immediately, his heart rate sped up. Almost too fast. “So many screw ups…”
“So little time?” he guessed.
But she shook her head. “So many regrets.” She shuffled a bit closer to him, her eyes not leaving his face. “Can I have that treat now?”
“What’d you have in mind?” Right now he knew what he wanted. And it seemed she read his mind.
She leaned in towards him and slowly brushed her lips against his. The moment he felt her kiss, a thousand memories flooded him, all of them good. He remembered their first kiss in the back of the taxi, the first feeling of her hands on his skin out the front of her building, and the moment he realized he loved her.
He should push her away, he knew that, but he couldn’t. It took all his willpower and then some to break up with her, and he had to do that at work so she wouldn’t turn on her feminine powers and change his mind. Now that they were alone, in his apartment, and she was vulnerable and he was extremely lonely, how could he push her away?
His hand came up and cupped the back of her head, running through her silky blonde curls. God he really loved this woman.
Before he knew it, they had stood up, still kissing, and she was pressed up against the kitchen wall, his body against hers not letting her move away. Her hands ran down his back and pulled his shirt from his pants, electricity shooting like fire the moment the pads of her fingers touched his skin. He shivered and quickly made work of her clothes.
They made love against the wall, the sounds she made just as he remembered. Her hands weren’t as rough, they were gentle and soothing, though she certainly made clear what she wanted. He sucked on the skin of her neck though not enough to leave a mark while his hands held her up. He wanted to run his fingers over her body, but he didn’t want her to suffer more injuries.
“Marty,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around him tighter and pushing her head back against the wall. He could almost see her heart pounding against her chest and it only made him work harder, work his body so she felt amazing. She’d suffered a loss and come to him. Whether this was what she was looking for or not, he was going to help.
“I’m right here, Sam,” he breathed, looking up and meeting her gaze. She stared intently at him and leant in, her lips searching and immediately finding his.
Her moans bounced off every wall in his apartment, echoing around him for what felt like hours but were possibly all of two seconds. He didn’t care. It was a sound that he would remember for a long time to come, just like all the other ones. To make things better, his weren’t far behind hers.
Martin rested his head against her naked chest and let his eyes shut, just enjoying having someone in his arms, someone to be there for him as much as he was there for them. Her arms wrapped around him and she let her head hang forward, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Martin was doing the exact same thing. She really wore him out!
After a few minutes, he pulled his head up and felt her do the same, their gaze soon meeting. He offered her a small smile. This was the moment he didn’t want to happen. “So…” she breathed.
“Yeah,” he replied softly, smiling weakly.
“Guess I should go.” She tapped his shoulder and he let her legs go and stepped back, watching her scan the kitchen floor for her clothes. Was that it?
Martin sighed heavily and reached down for his clothes, slipping back into them but still watching her redress. “This may be the wrong time to say this, but I have missed you Sam, and I still love you.”
She slipped her top over her head and nodded weakly. “I’ve missed you too, Marty, but uh…”
“You’ve moved on and this was a release from the physical and emotional pain you’ve been feeling?” he guessed, feeling that all too familiar throbbing begin in his head. Why did he let her into his apartment again?
Samantha folded her arms defensively over her chest and shifted on her feet uncomfortably. “I… I’ve sort of moved on, I guess, but… Martin I don’t know. A lot is going on and…”
“You came to me because…?”
“I trust you,” she whispered, looking up and meeting his gaze, her eyes sad again. “You know me and I trust you. There, I said it.”
He let out a light laugh. “It’s that much of a chore opening up to me?”
“Sometimes.”
Martin’s smile slowly fell from his face as an awkward silence descended over them. “I know a lot’s happened between us Sam and for us separately over the past year, but uh…”
Her head shot up and her eyes met his intently, and quickly he forgot what he was saying. “You should get back to your tree.”
His heart fell in his chest, but as usual, when it came to her, he ignored it. “Yeah, you should get home, rest that hand.”
“Right.” They shared an awkward smile and she brushed past him, but he couldn’t let her go like that, not that easily. He grabbed her arm stopping her from going and felt her relax a bit. “Martin…”
“If you need to talk,” he whispered, inhaling the scent of her hair and trying to ignore the feelings it was bringing up in him again, “I’m here for you. Anytime. And I’m sorry about Emily.” He then brushed a kiss to her temple and loosened his grip.
Samantha glanced up and offered him a small smile. “Thanks, Marty.”
He walked her to the door sharing one last look with her as she stepped out into the hallway and watching her retreating body leave the building. Once his door was shut, he leaned back against it and shut his eyes, letting out a loud breath. Now what?
~*~
He barely managed a couple of hours sleep that night.
All he could hear, see and smell was her. She was getting to him again. She was in pain, she came to him and he responded the way he always had. He opened his arms, gave her sex and let her walk away from him without another word. How was he letting this happen again? Should he let her use him like this? Should he say something?
That’s when he decided that things were going to change.
So he got up early, showered and changed, mentally preparing himself for what he was going to do.
Christmas was fast approaching and her plans had fallen through. She had lost a sister and was dreading seeing her mother. She came to him when she was emotionally down and opened up to him about her sister. He still loved her. Whether she loved him or not was irrelevant. He had a taste last night and he knew what he wanted.
So he strode into work with a purpose. Entering the bullpen, he set his bag and coat down on his desk and looked around. Her things were at her desk but she was nowhere in sight. While he was waiting, he headed into the break room and made himself a coffee, knowing that once his nerves dissipated, he’d probably fall asleep due to lack of sleep.
Taking a few minutes to make his coffee and gather more courage, Martin ran over what he was going to say in his head. He had to do this right. He didn’t want to embarrass himself, though he should be more worried about her castrating him later if she rejected him. Nah, he could handle her. At least he could in the past, no telling what the shooting had cut him down to.
Sipping his coffee, he turned on his heels and headed out of the room.
As he entered the office, he felt his legs shake seeing Samantha sitting at the conference table, her hair and makeup flawless and the grief missing from her face. She was sitting with Danny, Vivian, Elena, Mac and a couple of other agents. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but there was constant chatter and laughter. She was smiling.
He hoped more than anything he could keep that smile there.
“Morning Martin,” Vivian said, snapping him out of his reverie.
He offered them a smile as he approached. “Morning.” For a brief second, his eyes met Samantha’s but he didn’t bring up anything. “What’s going on?”
“Just talking about our plans for the holiday,” Elena admitted. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing, at the moment.” He shrugged weakly. “My family is all over the place and I don’t feel up to short, fleeting visits.”
They all nodded in understanding. “Been a busy year, huh?” Danny mused.
“Something like that.” He cleared his throat and after a couple of slow breaths, looked directly at Samantha. “Actually uh… Sam?” Her head shot up and he watched as her eyes widened. Little did she know that he felt as nervous as she looked, possibly more so. “Will you have dinner with me?”
The entire table went quiet, and he could see her cheeks heat up as she stared at him. “What?”
“Have dinner with me.” He held her gaze and offered her a smile. He wanted this. He wanted to try again, to make her happy.
Everyone’s eyes were flickering between them, and he could see they were beginning to squirm in their seats, waiting for the awkwardness to be over. But he kept his gaze on her, waiting for an answer, any answer… preferably the right answer.
And much to his delight… “Okay.” She smiled, and he smiled. Maybe Christmas could be saved?
It's taken me a few days to write this, but it's here nonetheless. I had to write something for Christmas, as I seem to do every year. I hope you all had a great holiday, ate and drank well and were spoilt by your families
Also, I could be persuaded to write a sequel if people desire it...
Title: The Beginnings Of A Blue Christmas.
Author: Broni.
Rating: R.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them.
Summary: Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts – Janice Maeditere.
~*~
He reached to the top of the tree and eased the last ornament onto the top branch carefully, letting it bounce for a second before stepping back and admiring his handiwork.
It was a week before Christmas, and honestly, Martin wasn’t feeling much in the holiday spirit. He didn’t have a woman in his life, his job had caused him more pain than ever before, and not only were his parents spending the holiday in Europe with other extended family, but the Toland’s were traveling down to Miami for the week.
Unfortunately, Martin didn’t get enough time off to be able to fly down and spend the holiday in Miami, so he was stuck in the cold, frigid temperatures of New York City, alone. Thankfully, he’d known early enough so he could plan ahead. He’d bought his turkey meat and set it in the freezer, and he knew a man at a local grocer who he could get some vegetables from at the last minute.
He had a twenty-year-old bottle of Scotch that his father sent him after his first day back at work after the shooting all ready to go, and he had brought presents for his family, wrapped them and set them under his tree, which he had only set up last night. Tonight was the night to decorate the tree, which he had thankfully just finished.
It was filled with old and new ornaments, barely any room left on the tree for anything else, but still, it didn’t do enough to fill him with the usual Christmas cheer.
Maybe he should get some more tinsel? Or lights?
As he reached down and plugged the lights in, watching them flicker to life after their twelve-month slumber, the intercom buzzed, startling him out of his evening reverie. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 9.51. He wasn’t far off going to bed and curling up with a good book. Who would be coming by at this time of night?
With a heavy sigh, he walked to the front door and pressed the intercom button. Hopefully he could get rid of them. “Yeah?”
“Martin, its Sam.”
Three simple words. That’s all it took to make his stomach churn. Samantha. They hadn’t spoken on a personal level in weeks. He couldn’t even remember the last time she’d come to his apartment. Maybe it was not long after he was shot? Those first couple of weeks home were a bit of a blur, but he could vaguely recall her being here, even if it was for a short time.
They had managed to rebuild something that vaguely resembled a friendship in the months since their break up, and he knew that it was mainly due to the shooting. If he hadn’t been shot, she wouldn’t have spoken to him for another few months. It pained him to think that a woman he once loved could behave like a slighted teenage girl.
Had he been that blinded by her brains, beauty and sense of humor before that he’d never noticed she could treat people that way? Perhaps. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had blinders on. He spent so much time with Samantha at work and away, he thought he knew her inside out… well it seemed that love was blind, deaf, and very, very dumb indeed.
He held back a heavy sigh as he replied, “Everything okay?” He didn’t want to let her in unless it was absolutely necessary. The memories of her in his apartment were still quite strong and he hadn’t dated anyone since her.
“I just uh… do you have a minute?”
NO! He wanted to scream that so badly. But how could he? They still had to see each other every day at work, and he didn’t like not having a good working relationship with those around him. He hated the tension that surrounded them after their break up. A tentative friendship was much better than animosity and arguments.
“Sure, come on up.” He pressed the buzzer and stepped back, taking a couple of calming breaths as she made her way up. This was going to be interesting.
A knock at the door almost sounded like two loud gongs in the hallway. He already had this feeling in his gut that the evening was going to be torture for both of them, no matter what she had to talk to him about.
Martin pulled the door open and did his best to offer her a smile. It was hard. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back, the scarf and coat wrapped tight around her body littered with scattered flakes of snow, and her nose and cheeks were a shade of pink due to the cold. How he wanted to take her in a hug and ensure she was warm, as always.
When he opened the door, her lips crept up into a half smile and she shifted on her feet, either out of nervousness or out of being cold, he wasn’t sure. Possibly both. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he breathed, taking another calming breath and telling his heart to stop pounding so fast.
“I’m not interrupting?” Her eyes glanced behind him, searching the living room though he wasn’t sure what for. Another woman, perhaps?
He shook his head and stepped back. “Just the finishing touches on the tree.” He heard her shut the door as he stepped into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure.”
“I got uh, beer, wine – white only, sorry – soda, juice and skim milk,” he replied, opening the fridge door and scanning its contents.
Samantha remained in the living room, and he could hear the surprise in her voice when she answered, “Skim now?”
Martin smiled despite himself. He’d missed hearing her comments about his apartment, even hearing her voice from the living room. “Every little bit helps.”
“Now you see sense,” she murmured.
He shrugged weakly. “I trust the doctors more than you when it comes to my body.” He instantly cringed, hoping he didn’t sound like he was trying to flirt with her. He really wasn’t, though sometimes it was hard not to. They were good at that.
“I guess I can accept that.”
He let out a breath. “So a drink?”
“Juice.”
“Okay.” He poured her a glass of juice and brought it into her, finding her standing by the tree, one of her hands up and her fingers grazing over the ornaments and branches. “Here you go.”
She seemed lost in a daze, but snapped out of it at the sound of his voice. She turned and gave him a weak smile, but it was only then that he realized her eyes were a bit puffy and her cheeks pinker than normal. “Thanks.” She took the glass and had a sip, holding it tight in her hand but turning to look back at the tree. “This looks good.”
“Thanks, it’s my attempt at getting into the holiday spirit,” he breathed, placing his hands on his hips and for what was probably the twentieth time that evening, surveying the tree.
Samantha smiled weakly. “Like every year, it’s a good attempt. Great even.” She sipped some more of her drink and set it on the coffee table, inhaling and exhaling slowly as she looked around his apartment.
Now he was getting curious. “What happened?”
“What?” She didn’t even bother turning around to look at him, and though she tried, he could tell she wasn’t surprised by his question.
“You’re not yourself,” he stated, stepping up behind her though still keeping a bit of distance. “What’s happened Sam?”
She exhaled slowly again, but this time, it wavered. He could hear the tears before he saw them. “It’s uh… Emily died.”
“Emily?” He shook his head weakly, not familiar with the name.
When Samantha turned around, he was surprised to see not only the tears in her eyes but also the confusion on her face. “My sister.”
“You have a sister?”
Samantha rolled her eyes and nodded weakly, looking away from him. “Yeah, I did.”
He wanted to reach out to her, take her in a hug or brush her tears away, but he couldn’t seem to do it. “I’m sorry, Sam. Really I am.”
“Yeah.” She folded her arms over her chest and walked back over to the tree.
“Is there anything I can do?” Though he felt terrible that her sister died, he was still confused as to why she was there with him. Shouldn’t she be organizing time off with Jack and packing to go home for the funeral? Was she planning on going home? She wasn’t close with her family, he knew that. Maybe she was working up the courage to?
“I was going to go there for the holiday,” she admitted softly, looking closely at a star ornament he remembered that she gave him last year for Christmas. The ghost of a smile crossed her face for only the briefest of moments. “I booked my plane ticket last week, organized with Emily and her husband for us to stay at the same hotel, so we wouldn’t have to deal with mom for the entire time.” She shook her head. “She was the only reason I’d go back there.”
Martin didn’t bother stepping closer again. “Have you spoken to your mom?”
“She called me.” Samantha smiled darkly and turned around, meeting his gaze. “She told me straight out that Emily had been hit by a car and she was dead. But do you want to know what I thought of?” She let out a loud laugh. “I wondered how she got my number. I hadn’t given her my new one, or any of my addresses. How crazy is that, right?” She laughed again and shook her head, looking down.
It was a laugh, but it wasn’t an honest Samantha laugh. Martin knew that laugh. “You were in shock. People think strange things when they’re in shock.”
“Yeah… right.” She let out another slow breath. “This was supposed to be a better Christmas. I was actually trying to do something proper with my family. I’ve been doing more yoga and even started meditating so I can control my anger with my mom. I was actually trying to get us together; we were all trying to make things better. Especially since last year, how spending Christmas with you was…”
“Was…?” he prodded.
But Samantha simply shrugged and reached for her glass, finishing all of the juice in one go and taking it into the kitchen, preoccupying herself by rinsing it under the tap. Martin stayed in the living room, not quite sure what to say or do. He didn’t know she had a sister, and certainly didn’t know that she was attempting to get her family back together, because of him?
She took her time in the kitchen. Martin felt terrible, not even being in there with her. She came here for a reason, and though she wasn’t really getting to that just yet, she wanted to be around him. In her time of need, she was here. This was completely unexpected, and he tried to push that surprise out of his mind and focus on her.
It was hard though. Samantha wasn’t into sharing things with him. He’d tried many times both before and during when they were dating to find out more about her past, but she was a closed book. It was one of the reasons he ended it. He couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t completely honest. But now she was… and he couldn’t understand it.
So, since she was here, he was going to do what friends did. He was going to help her, listen to her and do whatever she needed.
“Sam?” He couldn’t hear any movement in the kitchen, and right now, that worried him. “Sam!”
That’s when he heard a glass break followed by a loud curse word. He rushed into the kitchen and found her still leaning over the kitchen sink, both of her hands under the faucet. “Shit… sorry.”
“Here” He ran over to her, grabbing a dish rag on his way and examining her hands. One of them had a gash running down the palm. It wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding. “We should get you to the hospital.”
“No.”
He sighed. She would always be stubborn it seemed. “It’s bleeding quite a bit Sam.”
“It’ll be fine.” She kept it under the running water, but that didn’t stop the bleeding. Her eyes wouldn’t move from the running water.
Martin rested one hand on her back and the other turned the tap off. He turned her to face him and gently wrapped her hand with the cloth, putting some pressure on the wound. Samantha didn’t move or say anything. She was still, her eyes blank and breathing coming out quite shallow. “Sam… I’m sorry for your loss.”
She shook her head. “How is it my loss, Martin? I barely knew her. We were close but then all this stuff happened… I’m sad, but I’m not that sad… I’m just… I’m not that sad.” Her voice began quivering again, and before he knew it, her forehead was resting against his chest and her shoulders were shaking in time with her sobbing. “I’m not sad.”
“Oh Sam…” Going with his gut instinct, he wrapped both his arms around her, rubbing her back and letting her cry against him. She was a strong woman, but he had no idea how much she’d been holding in. She’d never spoken about her past, and it looked like there was a good reason why. “Its okay, it’s okay.”
Samantha brought one hand up to hold his shirt and continued to rest against him, the tears falling freely. It surprised Martin. He’d only seen her cry twice, and both times was due to physical injury. It was never emotional. She never let him see her emotionally, so when she did, like right now, he wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t learnt how to care for her in that way before.
Suddenly, she inhaled sharply and pulled away from him, bringing her good hand up and wiping at the tears on her cheeks. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I should go.”
But Martin wasn’t letting her leave that easy. “No, here.” He took her sore hand again and led her to the kitchen table. “Can I trust you to stay here and not run away when my back is turned?”
She looked up and when their eyes met, he could see a little bit of a gleam, and it wasn’t fresh tears. He smiled in return and dashed off to the bathroom, finding some ointment and a bandage. When he came back into the kitchen, he was honestly surprised to find her still there. She hadn’t moved an inch. Her eyes were now transfixed on the rag around her hand.
“There you are.” He dragged another chair closer and took a seat, reaching for her hand, gently pulling the cloth away and relieved to see that the bleeding had stopped. If it hadn’t, he’d throw her over his shoulder and carry her to a hospital if he had to. “It’s not that bad. Does it hurt?”
“No,” she whispered, unable to pull her intense gaze away from her hand.
Martin dabbed at the blood, cleaning her skin and putting some ointment on it. “You may get a treat if you keep being this cooperative.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“There.” He wrapped the bandage around her hand and secured it. “Not too tight?” She shook her head weakly, still avoiding his gaze. “Sam, hey.” He gently took both her hands in his and dipped his head to get her gaze. “Is there anything I can do?”
She shrugged weakly. “It sucks being this close to the holidays. It sucks that I… that she’s gone and I can’t try and make up with her, you know?” Now she lifted her head and met him through tiny and red eyes. It made his heart clench to see her this sad. “And at Christmas.” She surprised him by letting out a laugh. It wasn’t a happy one, but it wasn’t a sound he expected to hear. “First last year and now this. What are the odds, hm?”
“Last year?” he repeated, shaking his head weakly. “With me?”
Samantha sighed. “I always regretted turning your offer down, to be with you and your family. Maybe I wanted you to convince me more.”
He smiled beside himself. “I was considering kidnapping you after work.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t.” She moved her fingers over one of his hands, and immediately, his heart rate sped up. Almost too fast. “So many screw ups…”
“So little time?” he guessed.
But she shook her head. “So many regrets.” She shuffled a bit closer to him, her eyes not leaving his face. “Can I have that treat now?”
“What’d you have in mind?” Right now he knew what he wanted. And it seemed she read his mind.
She leaned in towards him and slowly brushed her lips against his. The moment he felt her kiss, a thousand memories flooded him, all of them good. He remembered their first kiss in the back of the taxi, the first feeling of her hands on his skin out the front of her building, and the moment he realized he loved her.
He should push her away, he knew that, but he couldn’t. It took all his willpower and then some to break up with her, and he had to do that at work so she wouldn’t turn on her feminine powers and change his mind. Now that they were alone, in his apartment, and she was vulnerable and he was extremely lonely, how could he push her away?
His hand came up and cupped the back of her head, running through her silky blonde curls. God he really loved this woman.
Before he knew it, they had stood up, still kissing, and she was pressed up against the kitchen wall, his body against hers not letting her move away. Her hands ran down his back and pulled his shirt from his pants, electricity shooting like fire the moment the pads of her fingers touched his skin. He shivered and quickly made work of her clothes.
They made love against the wall, the sounds she made just as he remembered. Her hands weren’t as rough, they were gentle and soothing, though she certainly made clear what she wanted. He sucked on the skin of her neck though not enough to leave a mark while his hands held her up. He wanted to run his fingers over her body, but he didn’t want her to suffer more injuries.
“Marty,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around him tighter and pushing her head back against the wall. He could almost see her heart pounding against her chest and it only made him work harder, work his body so she felt amazing. She’d suffered a loss and come to him. Whether this was what she was looking for or not, he was going to help.
“I’m right here, Sam,” he breathed, looking up and meeting her gaze. She stared intently at him and leant in, her lips searching and immediately finding his.
Her moans bounced off every wall in his apartment, echoing around him for what felt like hours but were possibly all of two seconds. He didn’t care. It was a sound that he would remember for a long time to come, just like all the other ones. To make things better, his weren’t far behind hers.
Martin rested his head against her naked chest and let his eyes shut, just enjoying having someone in his arms, someone to be there for him as much as he was there for them. Her arms wrapped around him and she let her head hang forward, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Martin was doing the exact same thing. She really wore him out!
After a few minutes, he pulled his head up and felt her do the same, their gaze soon meeting. He offered her a small smile. This was the moment he didn’t want to happen. “So…” she breathed.
“Yeah,” he replied softly, smiling weakly.
“Guess I should go.” She tapped his shoulder and he let her legs go and stepped back, watching her scan the kitchen floor for her clothes. Was that it?
Martin sighed heavily and reached down for his clothes, slipping back into them but still watching her redress. “This may be the wrong time to say this, but I have missed you Sam, and I still love you.”
She slipped her top over her head and nodded weakly. “I’ve missed you too, Marty, but uh…”
“You’ve moved on and this was a release from the physical and emotional pain you’ve been feeling?” he guessed, feeling that all too familiar throbbing begin in his head. Why did he let her into his apartment again?
Samantha folded her arms defensively over her chest and shifted on her feet uncomfortably. “I… I’ve sort of moved on, I guess, but… Martin I don’t know. A lot is going on and…”
“You came to me because…?”
“I trust you,” she whispered, looking up and meeting his gaze, her eyes sad again. “You know me and I trust you. There, I said it.”
He let out a light laugh. “It’s that much of a chore opening up to me?”
“Sometimes.”
Martin’s smile slowly fell from his face as an awkward silence descended over them. “I know a lot’s happened between us Sam and for us separately over the past year, but uh…”
Her head shot up and her eyes met his intently, and quickly he forgot what he was saying. “You should get back to your tree.”
His heart fell in his chest, but as usual, when it came to her, he ignored it. “Yeah, you should get home, rest that hand.”
“Right.” They shared an awkward smile and she brushed past him, but he couldn’t let her go like that, not that easily. He grabbed her arm stopping her from going and felt her relax a bit. “Martin…”
“If you need to talk,” he whispered, inhaling the scent of her hair and trying to ignore the feelings it was bringing up in him again, “I’m here for you. Anytime. And I’m sorry about Emily.” He then brushed a kiss to her temple and loosened his grip.
Samantha glanced up and offered him a small smile. “Thanks, Marty.”
He walked her to the door sharing one last look with her as she stepped out into the hallway and watching her retreating body leave the building. Once his door was shut, he leaned back against it and shut his eyes, letting out a loud breath. Now what?
~*~
He barely managed a couple of hours sleep that night.
All he could hear, see and smell was her. She was getting to him again. She was in pain, she came to him and he responded the way he always had. He opened his arms, gave her sex and let her walk away from him without another word. How was he letting this happen again? Should he let her use him like this? Should he say something?
That’s when he decided that things were going to change.
So he got up early, showered and changed, mentally preparing himself for what he was going to do.
Christmas was fast approaching and her plans had fallen through. She had lost a sister and was dreading seeing her mother. She came to him when she was emotionally down and opened up to him about her sister. He still loved her. Whether she loved him or not was irrelevant. He had a taste last night and he knew what he wanted.
So he strode into work with a purpose. Entering the bullpen, he set his bag and coat down on his desk and looked around. Her things were at her desk but she was nowhere in sight. While he was waiting, he headed into the break room and made himself a coffee, knowing that once his nerves dissipated, he’d probably fall asleep due to lack of sleep.
Taking a few minutes to make his coffee and gather more courage, Martin ran over what he was going to say in his head. He had to do this right. He didn’t want to embarrass himself, though he should be more worried about her castrating him later if she rejected him. Nah, he could handle her. At least he could in the past, no telling what the shooting had cut him down to.
Sipping his coffee, he turned on his heels and headed out of the room.
As he entered the office, he felt his legs shake seeing Samantha sitting at the conference table, her hair and makeup flawless and the grief missing from her face. She was sitting with Danny, Vivian, Elena, Mac and a couple of other agents. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but there was constant chatter and laughter. She was smiling.
He hoped more than anything he could keep that smile there.
“Morning Martin,” Vivian said, snapping him out of his reverie.
He offered them a smile as he approached. “Morning.” For a brief second, his eyes met Samantha’s but he didn’t bring up anything. “What’s going on?”
“Just talking about our plans for the holiday,” Elena admitted. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing, at the moment.” He shrugged weakly. “My family is all over the place and I don’t feel up to short, fleeting visits.”
They all nodded in understanding. “Been a busy year, huh?” Danny mused.
“Something like that.” He cleared his throat and after a couple of slow breaths, looked directly at Samantha. “Actually uh… Sam?” Her head shot up and he watched as her eyes widened. Little did she know that he felt as nervous as she looked, possibly more so. “Will you have dinner with me?”
The entire table went quiet, and he could see her cheeks heat up as she stared at him. “What?”
“Have dinner with me.” He held her gaze and offered her a smile. He wanted this. He wanted to try again, to make her happy.
Everyone’s eyes were flickering between them, and he could see they were beginning to squirm in their seats, waiting for the awkwardness to be over. But he kept his gaze on her, waiting for an answer, any answer… preferably the right answer.
And much to his delight… “Okay.” She smiled, and he smiled. Maybe Christmas could be saved?
