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Title: Reasons Fandom: Without a Trace Pairing: Sam/Martin Rating: G Word Count: 500 Disclaimer: CBS and some other people own them. Summary: Her reasons weren't enough. Episode tag for "Manhunt" (the Feb. 24th episode). A/N: My first Without a Trace fic! Written for a drabble_redux challenge. Sam showed up at his door with a bottle of wine. She didn’t honestly know why she brought the wine, other than she didn’t want to come empty-handed. It gave her something to grip, white-knuckled, when she knocked. “You didn’t wait for me after work,” she said when he answered the door. Martin leaned against the doorframe. “I needed some time to think.” He looked at her for a moment, then nodded to the bottle in her hand. “What’s with the wine?” She shrugged, gripping the bottle a little tighter. “May I come in?” she asked hesitantly. He looked at her appraisingly for a moment more before moving aside and letting her step in. She set down the bottle and he helped her with her coat. She was still wearing her work clothes, he noted, rather than having changed into something more comfortable. Apparently his attitude, and their earlier fight, had truly unsettled her. He gestured for her to precede him into the living room. She sat on the couch; he took a chair. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she cleared her throat. “So what were you thinking?” He looked at her levelly. “Same thing I’ve been thinking for a while. That for some reason you’re not comfortable telling people about us.” She shifted restlessly. “I told you the reason.” He leaned forward, shaking his head. “You told me a reason, Sam. A good one, I’ll grant you, but I don’t think it’s the only one.” Unable to sit still, Sam got to her feet and paced to the kitchen, snagging the bottle of wine on her way. “I don’t know what to tell you, Martin…” She sighed and pulled open a drawer, taking out the corkscrew. She wielded it on the bottle of wine, but her expression suggested her thoughts were elsewhere. Finally, when the cork was out, she shook her head. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it’s not the only reason,” she said without looking up. When she didn’t continue, he spoke quietly. “It’s Jack, isn’t it?” She nodded, glancing up to meet his eyes. “I’ve moved on, Martin, and I’m happy with you. I wouldn’t trade us for anything. But Jack…” She looked down again. “He’s made a few overtures recently,” she admitted. “Nothing overt, but… I’m worried about his reaction if he find out about us. He’s in a position to make things very uncomfortable for both of us, and I don’t want you to have to deal with that because of me.” Martin sat for a moment, weighing his options. Finally, he stood and walked over to her. “Sam, he already knows.” Her head snapped up, and she stared at him in shock. “And he’s fine with it,” he added, watching for her reaction. It wasn’t nice, but – this might tell him everything he needed to know. She leaned against the counter, face pale, eyes tightly shut. After an eternity (or so it seemed to Martin), she let out a long, harsh breath. And smiled.