Please by Lopaka Tanu

Martin had been driving for an hour when he spotted a cellphone outside an old abandoned gas station. It looked well kept for something in the middle of no where, so he assumed it still worked. As he pulled the car off the road to it, he found there was a road beside the station, but the over growth of ivy and weeds obscured it. The road led down a ways, but a town was visible at the end of it.

That meant people.

Martin almost kept going. But, he was resolved to this. He knew it was risky, but there was only one thing he could think of doing. Putting the car in to Park, he turned off the engine. He climbed out of the car, but left the driver's door open just in case.

His fingers were shaking as he approached the phone. He had to pause, closing his eyes. Taking several calming breaths, he nodded. It was time.

Picking up the receiver, he inserted a couple quarters he had found in the ashtray. The dial tone blanked out every time he put in a coin for a second, then returned. Martin entered the area code, then dialed the seven digits he had memorized months ago.

When it began to ring, Martin held his breath.

"Hello."

The tears were so painful, Martin gasped. "Viv."

"Yes." She sounded tired. They must have been on a new case. "Who is this?"

"It's me, Viv." His throat tightened, and he had to cough to clear it.

"Who...oh my god."

The line went dead.

"Viv?" Martin checked the phone, making sure it was still attached. He clicked the receiver against the base a couple times. "Viv?"

"Mr. Fitzgerald." The voice that came out of the line was authoritative and calm. Yet, it held a hint of anger. "Stay where you are, we have traced the location. What you did was stupid, you put yourself and everyone you care about at risk."

"Listen to me, whoever the fuck you are. I don't give a damn what you think, what you did to me was wrong! I want my life back and you're not going to stop me from taking it." His fingers were clenched around the phone and he was near spitting as he finished.

"Think about what you are doing, what you are saying. This has already happened, Mr. Fitzgerald, it can't be undone. If you go back now, you will only get yourself, and possibly others, killed."

"I don't care! It's my life! You had no right! None!" With as much force as he could muster, Martin slammed the receiver down in the hanger. Running a hand through his hair, he stopped his bare foot against the ground.

He had to get out of there, they were coming for him. The car was probably lowjacked too, which meant they could trace him through that as well. He had to get to a city and dump it. Thinking quickly, he replayed all the options his years of training had prepared him for in tracking down the perps. Chuckling, he climbed back in the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As another car passed, Martin hunkered down further in his jacket. It wasn't cold, but the wind left a chill against his skin. Holding out his thumb, it was more of an automatic reaction than a conscious thought. Having left the car when it ran out of gas hours ago, he had since lost hope of being picked up. So, it was a surprise when the car actually stopped.

Peering out from under his hat, Martin glanced up to make sure it wasn't the marshall or any other law enforcement. He really should learn to look before sticking his thumb out. Much to his luck, it was neither. He hesitated only a second before walking up to the window that had been lowered for him. Pushing the hat up so he could see comfortably, he smiled at the driver.

He was a man in his late thirties, may be early forties. The assessing look he gave Martin made him seem older. "Where you headed?"

"New York. You know, bright lights, big city, Broadway." Grinning, Martin wiggled his eyebrows, then realized too late they had been shaved off. Sighing, he pushed the hat down. It may have belonged to Tucker, but it was all he had to protect him from the sun since they cut off his hair. "How far can you take me?"

"I can take you as far as Denver." Grabbing the jackets and wrappers he had on his seat, he threw them over. The crewcab was big enough for two adults and two children, but not much else. "Hop in."

"Thank you." Martin didn't have to fake the sincerity. Climbing in the truck, he held out his hand for the man. "Martin." It was probably best not to give his real last name, considering everyone in the media had been spouting it for the last two weeks.

"Chris." Chris shook Martin's hand. "Nice to meet you, Martin." Checking his mirrors, Chris put his foot on the accelerator and eased the truck back on the road.

"Like wise." Turning to stare out the window, Martin found himself relaxing to the hum of the truck's engine. Along with that came the physical exhaustion he had been fighting. Before he knew it, Martin was leaning against the door fast asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, who's Danny?"

"What?" Half asleep, Martin opened his eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his face as he sat up. When he checked the time on the truck's radio, he found it had been four hours.

"Danny. You were moaning his name." Chuckling, Chris subtly checked his passenger out while keeping his attention focused on the road. They were in heavy traffic and he had to keep focused. "Is he someone special."

"He was." Watching the cars and the people inside, Martin refused to look towards Chris. He didn't want to talk about it, but felt there was no other choice. He had to tell someone and this Chris wanted to know. "He was my partner."

"Your partner." Chris seemed to consider this before nodding. "How long were you together?"

"Just over a year. It started when we were assigned a case that took us to California." The memory of meeting Danny as he stepped off the plane caused Martin to snort. That smirk, the little insinuations, that nosey bartender. "He didn't so much ask as just inserted himself in to my life. It was just me one day, and then it was we the next. I still haven't quite figured out how he did it."

"Sounds like you cared a lot for him." Signaling, Chris took the next lane that brought them on to an Interstate.

"I do." Hunkering deeper in his stolen coat, Martin shivered. "It's amazing what you learn to accept. He had this irritating way of just smirking that said so many things. Danny can make me so frustrated at times that I want to scream, but I lo..." Martin shook his head.

"It was supposed to be our anniversary. We were going to a B&B and he got lost. Stupid, stubborn prick." Biting back a sob, Martin dropped his chin to his chest. He knew he was making a spectacle of himself, but he couldn't hold it in. His chest hurt so much that he found it hard to breathe. It wasn't fair. "They said it was an accident, but how can something like that be an accident?"

A gentle hand upon his shoulder drew his attention. Latching on to the offered support, Martin curled in to the strong embrace. He laid his head upon Chris' shoulder, wrapping his arm around the older man's chest. The smell of worn clothing and warm skin gave him comfort.

Breathing heavily through his mouth, Martin tried to calm his racing heart. He didn't want to say it, but he felt possessed. The truth wanted out. "I watched him die."

"What?" The arm Chris had draped around Martin's shoulders tightened.

"The car was sinking, Danny was pounding at the window. I tried, god I tried, but I couldn't move." Reaching up, Martin scrubbed his face dry. "I couldn't move, and I wanted to get to him so much. Why couldn't I have gone down with him? He was trying to get out, why couldn't he get out?"

"I don't know." Instinctively, Chris pressed his lips to Martin's forehead. "I just don't know."

It was all too much for him. Martin opened his mouth and let out a big yawn. His eyes growing heavy, Martin gratefully sank back in to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting across from Chris, Martin hunkered down in to the booth. His plate of cheese fries, hamburger, and cottage cheese sat untouched in front of him. His eyes were blood shot and his skin even paler than before. Chris' hooded sweater was much too large on him. It would have been even if he hadn't been thin from the past weeks of depravation.

Chris, for his part, was sipping at his cup of coffee. He was working on his third refill, keeping an eye on the Martin and the time. His plate had long since been taken away. "My wife's name was Sarah."

"That's a pretty name." Reaching out, Martin picked up a frenchfry. He twirled it a few times before setting it down.

"She was a beautiful woman. She and Adam were my whole world." Staring in to the steaming blackness of his coffee, Chris didn't see Martin refocus his attention on him. "They said it was an accident, but is a drunk driver really an accident?"

"No." To emphasize his point, Martin shook his head. "Danny knew that, that's why he quit."

"Sounds like he wised up." Taking a sip of his coffee, Chris finished the glass. "I just wished that son of a bitch Fowler had done the same."

Reaching across the table, Martin caught Chris' wrist where he still held the coffee mug. When Chris raised his gaze to meet Martin's, he nodded. "Your family, my Danny, it really fucking sucks."

"That it does." Chris looked about to say more, but the door to the roadside diner opened. He looked to it as the bell over it jingled.

Curious, Martin turned to see who had come through. The moment he saw Tucker, he whipped around to face Chris. Seeing the resigned expression, his face crumpled. "You bastard."

"Martin," Chris tried, but then the table was shoved in to his chest.

Rushing from the booth, Martin made a dash for the back exit. He had to duck around two patrons and a waitress as he ran. The plates she had been carrying crashed to the floor behind him, but he could bring himself to care. He had to get out of there!

Martin was almost to the side entrance when a man appeared there. He instantly recognized the man from Tucker's dining room. They had come for him and weren't intending to let him get away this time. Well, they were going to have to take him down, because he wasn't going back.

Clutching the butter knife in his hand, Martin charged the door. The big man on the other side moved to block Martin's way, but found himself jumping back with a cry. Martin slashed at him twice more in quick session.

The serrated blade may have been dull under normal circumstances, but sped up with enough force, it would cut. Taking advantage of the sudden space, Martin ran in to the parking lot. He had to find transport quickly or else they would get him again.

There was no way in hell he was going back!

"Martin!"

Whirling around, Martin set up to attack the person. It took him several seconds to realize that someone was very familiar. "Viv?" Despite knowing her, he kept the blade ready.

"Martin." Hands raised, Vivian crossed the distance slowly. "Easy there, agent, it's me."

"What are you doing here?" Martin spun quickly, holding the knife out to stave off Tucker, Chris, and the other two. They were soon joined by both Jack and Sam. Seeing the alarmed expressions of his team, Martin gave a harsh chuckle. "Looks like the entire team is here."

"Martin, put down the blade." Tucker tried to get closer. When the knife slashed his way, he jumped back.

"Stay out of this, you've done quite enough!" Jack's words were for Tucker, but his wide eyes were on Martin. "Agent Fitzgerald, I need you to calm down."

"I'm not going back, Jack. They'll have to kill me first." Martin jabbed the knife at the men, enjoying the way the big one flinched. "Want to feel this blade again?"

"You're not going any where with them." Vivian put a hand to keep the others silent. "It's over, Martin, they can't take you any where you don't want to go."

"I'm not going, Viv." Wide eyed, Martin switched hands with the blade. He used his left hand to thrust at Chris. That had been a mistake.

Taking a chance, Chris moved quickly. He grabbed Martin by the cuff of his jacket. Using all his strength, he spun Martin, putting a fist in the center of his back.

With a scream of pain, Martin dropped the knife and went down in the same motion. His hands too weak to soften his fall, he hit the gravel of the parking lot face first.

"Martin!"

Martin couldn't be sure who had called his name, everything was so distant. The world was a haze of pain. Closing his eyes, he let the threatening darkness take him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"And a crowd of hundreds gathered today as the body of FBI Agent Martin Fitzgerald was finally laid to rest. As you may have recalled, the medical examiner delayed the..."

"Over two hundred FBI agents from across the country paid their final respects..."

"Mary Kate said she is not going to comment..."

Rolling his eyes, Chris turned off the television. The constant sound of rain pelting the windows made the room eerily peaceful. For several minutes he continued to stare at the now blank screen, deep in thought. He was eventually broken from it by the sound of the bedroom door closing. Looking up, he found the hall doorway blocked by a large shadow. "How's he doing?"

The large man looked about to say something. Instead, he shook his head. Walking over to the coffee table, he slipped a string of beads inside.

Standing up, Chris slipped by the taller man. As he passed, he patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks for trying."

"He will come around in his own time. His soul is deeply scarred. Have patience." The man closed up his bag. Carrying it with him, he walked across the living room to the front door. He paused at the door long enough to watch Chris walk up the hallway. With a sigh, he left.

Chris' foot steps echoed too loud in the silent house. At the bedroom door, he hesitated. Eventually, he forced himself to reach out and grasp the handle. Turning it, he pushed the door open.

As like every time before, the bedroom was cast in shadows. The only light came through the blinds, opened only because it was storming out. However little there was, it was enough to see Martin.

In the old rocker Sarah had once used to get Adam to sleep, he sat staring out in to nothing. His foot rising slowly, pushed the chair back and fourth.

For several minutes, all Chris did was stand there staring at him. The scabs on his face were mostly healed, only the largest of them over his eye still remaining.

"I want to go home."

Chris raised his eyes to see Martin looking at him. "You agreed to stay."

"Doesn't matter." Dismissing Chris from thought, Martin shifted his gaze to stare out the window. "I want to go home."

"You are home." When that didn't garner him a response, Chris backed out of the room. Closing the door, he gently eased the handle closed.

He would try again later.

THE END..............................