Fic Post: Unraveling [Shelter/Without a Trace crossover]

[dragontatt]

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Title: Unraveling, Interlude 5
Author: dragontatt
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Neither Shelter nor Without a Trace belong to me. No profit is being made from this work of fiction, and no disrespect is intended.
Word Count: 3667



“You’re doing what?” Shaun asked, his voice cracking on the question as shock seeped in – he hadn’t heard from Martin in over a year. Hell, he hadn’t seen him in close to two.

“I’m going to the FBI Academy,” Martin repeated softly.

“You’ve always hated the very thought of being in the FBI, of being like your dad,” Shaun said. “Do I really need to remind you how many times you told me that since we met?”

“No, you don’t. But things are different now and you know it. I can’t stop. It’s…she’s all I think about.”

“Still?”

“Still.” Martin’s pronouncement was so final it made Shaun wince, and he only hesitated a second before replying, “Good-bye, Martin.”

He hung up the phone and threw it forcefully on the couch, but for years he was haunted by the sound he’d heard – the sound of Martin hanging up on him first, without a good-bye.


-----


Their apartment was tiny, didn’t even have a bedroom, just a living room (barely room enough for the pull-out sofa and two desks), a kitchen (refrigerator, two burner stove, coffee maker) and a bathroom (corner shower stall, no tub.)

Still, they made it work because it was cheap and they had a lot more privacy than at the frat house. Even sharing one of the few two-person rooms, they had to be careful, and that was hard. So very hard, when any moment some frat brother might bust through the door and catch him and Martin in the act.

Here in this cramped space that was all their own, they could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. And boy, did they ever – Shaun figured they’d had sex in pretty much every possible place and configuration the space allowed, including one memorable occasion when they’d managed to not only tear down the shower curtain, but rip the safety bar out of the tiled wall as well. Shaun grinned whenever he remembered how Martin had blushed and stammered when trying to explain to the landlord how the bar had just popped out of the wall all by itself.


----


The first time Martin walked from their new apartment to his morning English class was the first time he saw the girl.

It was early autumn, which temperature-wise might not mean a whole lot in LA, but it was Martin’s favorite season no matter where he was. The air always seemed a little crisper, the sky a little bluer and there was a little bounce in his step as he left his (their!) apartment. He had his headphones on, Discman tucked carefully in the pocket of his backpack with his old copy of Sunshine on Leith loud in his ears.

He turned down the tiny alley that ran the length of their apartment complex – it was mostly the trash trucks that used it, but Martin had quickly realized it was a shortcut to campus. He headed off at a quick pace, footsteps echoing between the buildings on one side of him and the wooden fence on the other.

He dodged around a torn trash bag that had escaped the truck somehow, spilling its contents in an almost graceful arc across the asphalt. When he looked back up, a pale flash to his right caught his eye, and he slowed.

A frosted window in one of the apartments (the bathroom, Martin thought for sure) was broken at the top, leaving a triangle open to the outside world, and in that triangle was an eye. Martin almost stopped, feet stumbling a bit over the uneven pavement.

The eye - blue, surrounded by pale smooth skin - blinked once, watching him closely. What little Martin could see of the face seemed childlike, and he smiled almost in spite of himself before raising his hand in a sort of wave.

The eye blinked again, and then in another flash, it was gone.


-----


Later that night, after classes for them both were long over, homework complete, frat council business for Martin done, and both men were laying there in that timeless, weightless, mindless kind of after glow that only comes from a truly amazing blow job – or two – Martin lay with his head propped on Shaun’s sweaty shoulder, eyes closed, thinking of nothing in particular…and then the thought of that eye popped into his mind.

He must have jerked, or flinched or just tensed up without knowing it because Shaun mumbled, “What is it?”

Shaun’s voice was soft, sleepy and Martin could feel him struggling to stay awake.

“It’s nothing really – I just…” He paused and ran a soothing hand across Shaun’s shoulder and down his arm. “On the way to school this morning, somebody was watching me from one of the windows that overlook the alley.”

“Hmmm,” Shaun rumbled, more out of pleasure than any actual thinking. “Maybe it was some guy staring at your fine ass? Am I gonna have to fight somebody?”

“No.” Martin could feel himself blush and rolled his eyes. “It was some kid peeking out a broken window, I guess in a bathroom cause it was one of those frosted ones, you know? All I could see was an eye - it was odd.”

“Sounds like it. But I bet you’ll never see ‘em again.”

Shaun shifted under Martin’s head, turning toward him and slipping one arm around his waist. Martin’s head ended up on Shaun’s bicep, their foreheads touching, the sound of Shaun’s slow and steady breathing soothing Martin to sleep.

“You’re probably right,” Martin murmured, tongue tripping over the words as he barely managed to stifle a yawn. His eyelids fluttered once or twice, and then they slipped closed.

----


But Shaun wasn’t right, Martin saw the eye again the very next day.

And the next…

She sat behind the broken window and peered out over the cracked edge – the remaining glass was frosted in swirls that obscured her face so only one eye was exposed. The rest of her face was only faintly visible and through the glass looked like some sort of scarecrow or rag doll, like her mouth was sewn on in some crooked semblance of humanity, while the rest of her sat in that cold empty room and looked out over the real world.

Martin saw her nearly every day, on his way to or from school, or on his shift at the diner. He walked down the alley, gaze fixed on the pavement in front of him or staring at the clouds in the sky and somehow he always saw her. He saw her without really seeing her, she was just there. Until one day she wasn’t.

He saw that she was gone, and vaguely wondered why, hurrying as he was down the alley, long strides eating up the distance between home and his noon business class. The thought drifted through his head the rest of the day, anchorless and aimless as he moved from class to class, bumping into other thoughts as he walked home hours later. But he didn’t notice her absence on his trip down the alley that evening anymore than he’d ever really noticed her presence all this time.

He dreamt about her that night though, and in his dream that lone blue eye looked at him reproachfully and then a voice – a child’s voice – filled his head. “Why didn’t you try to save me?”

He jerked awake, sitting straight up in bed, heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Immediately Shaun was there next to him, murmuring soft, nonsensical words of comfort and running gentle hands over his arms as he pulled him back down on the bed. Shaun kissed his shoulder and snuggled up close, pulling the sheet a touch higher around them.

It took Martin a few minutes of laying there in the dark and letting his breath slow, his mind calm, before he could get back to sleep. And in the morning he barely remembered his nightmare at all.

---

Some days when he walked down the alley, he remembered her though, wondered who she was – somehow he just knew it was a she – and where she was now. But he never thought of her enough to ask any questions or knock on any doors. And eventually of course, some days he didn’t think of her at all.

One day, a couple months later, if you’d have asked him about it, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you the last time he thought about that eye, or the little girl he felt sure it belonged to. In fact, he’d almost forgotten about her completely when quite by accident he came across a tiny article in the paper.

Martin wasn’t necessarily big on reading the news, or listening to it for that matter. He was in his senior year of college, had a part time job and a boyfriend and those things together added up to a big chunk of his time. But one afternoon when he left his shift at the diner he grabbed one of the newspapers laying around and took it home with him.

Buried deep in the front section of the paper, far away from the front page, he stumbled across a picture that sent shivers down his spine. It was a picture of a young girl, maybe ten years old, with a faint echo of a smile, a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and somber blue eyes. It was the eyes that drew his attention – it was her, he just knew it - and it took a few seconds before he could finally drag his glance away to look at the headline: Murdered Girl Had Been Abused For Months Prosecutor Contends.

He dropped the paper on the floor like it had suddenly singed his fingers and stepped away from it. His stomach roiled once and he barely had time to rush to the kitchen sink before losing his lunch in a series of violent, uncontrollable heaves.

When Shaun came home a little while later, he found Martin lying on his back in their bed, naked except for his boxers, staring at the ceiling. He asked what was wrong, but Martin only shook his head before rolling onto his side away from Shaun. In the end, all Shaun could do that evening was curl up behind him and hold him close, comforting him for reasons Shaun didn’t understand.


---

The next day when Shaun woke up, the other side of the bed was empty, which was odd. The apartment was empty too, which was even odder because Shaun didn’t remember Martin having an early class on Tuesdays. But he didn’t really think much about it until that evening when Martin came home later than usual. He was also dressed in a suit.

“Wow – don’t you look sharp. Where’ve you been?” Shaun crossed the tiny kitchen to run an appreciative finger down Martin’s tastefully patterned tie, a birthday gift from his parents. “Did you have to wear this to class for some reason?”

“Didn’t go to class,” Martin said simply before taking a big gulp of milk straight from the carton.

“Where’d you go then?” Shaun asked, sending Martin a glare before handing him a glass.

“I went to the courthouse. I just had to see.”

“See what?”

“See who could do such a terrible thing to that little girl.” He reached over and plucked the newspaper from where he had tucked it behind the coffee can yesterday, handing it to Shaun.

Shaun took the paper with a quizzical look, and then started reading where Martin pointed. He skimmed the article quickly until he came to the name of the apartment complex – it was the same one they lived in – and then he slowed down, blinked a couple of times and looked closely at the picture that accompanied the headline. “I don’t get it. I mean, it’s terrible, but - ”

Martin interrupted impatiently. “That little girl is the one who kept staring at me in the alley. Remember? I told you about it.”

Shaun must have looked confused because Martin went on forcefully, “That eye I saw? The blue eye, through the broken window? It was her.” And he pointed at the picture with a finger that shook ever so slightly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m sure,” Martin said with a note of finality in his voice. He drained the last bit of milk from his glass, turning to rinse it out at the sink before setting it upside-down on the dish drainer to dry.

Shaun stood there, silently waiting until Martin turned back from the sink before speaking again. “So, then – what’d you find out?”

Martin’s jaw tightened, and he looked at the floor for a minute before spitting out, “I learned some people should never have children.” He looked Shaun in the eye a moment and then turned and walked out, fumbling with the knot on his tie as he headed to the bedroom.

Shaun’s eyes widened and he reached for the newspaper again. He hadn’t been paying that much attention when he – there, both girl’s parents were on trial for murder and child abuse, although the article was quick to delicately point out (as if it made any difference at this point) that the abuse wasn’t sexual in nature.

By the time he finished reading the details of what had been done to poor Maggie Calloway, Shaun was slightly sick to his stomach but he better understood Martin’s uncharacteristic anger.

He headed off to the bedroom to find Martin, who was already in bed. His suit and tie had been hung up neatly, and his shoes were lined up by the closet door, dress socks tucked inside.

“Are you going back to the courthouse tomorrow?”

Martin flipped over onto his back, folding one arm behind his head. “I was thinking about it. I only have one class tomorrow so it’s not like it’d be a big deal.”

“True, but…um, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be dwelling so much on this. I mean, it’s not like you can do anything, right? It’s up to the prosecuting attorney.” Shaun sat down next to Martin, feeling strangely ill at ease.

“No, I can’t do anything now,” Martin said softly. “But I could have then. I should have.” He blinked up at the ceiling, resolutely avoiding looking at Shaun.

“Oh, really? What could you have done?” Shaun tried to keep his voice from sounding accusatory but wasn’t sure he succeeded.

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “Something, told somebody. Anything would have been better than doing nothing.” And with that he rolled onto his side, away from Shaun, and he stayed that way the rest of the night.

So Martin went to the trial the next day, and every day till it was over. It didn’t take very long, after all it was pretty much an open and shut case. And every day that he went to court, heard the details and the excuses, both of the parents and the police and Child Services, he became more sullen, more moody, more riddled with a guilt that was completed unwarranted. Of course there was anger too – anger at a system that failed a little girl, at a society that raised people to adulthood who were capable of such evil, anger at everyone because he was the only one who felt guilty. And every day, Shaun did his best to be strong and supportive even though he couldn’t understand Martin’s obsession with it all. By the time the trial was over, not so long in the grand scheme of things, they were pretty much over too, though neither of them realized it yet.


----


Martin walked slowly back home from campus, taking that slightly longer way that skipping the alley entailed – he hadn’t once stepped foot in the alley since he’d read that newspaper article six weeks ago. He’d had a late afternoon meeting with his academic advisor about the amount of classes he’d missed so soon into the new semester and how bad his grades for last semester’s exams had been. Mr. Burke had shaken his head, softly tsking over the decline in Martin’s GPA before asking if Martin had some excuse for it all. Had he been sick, were there problems at home? Martin just shrugged and shook his head. How could he explain the overwhelming need he’d had to watch a murder trial, to stay there until finally the guilty verdict came back? Even if it was a legitimate excuse, he’d only feel guiltier for using it, so in the end he said nothing. There was no real use in protesting anyway, academic standards were practically carved in stone.


----


Shaun bummed a ride from a frat brother after his last class, coughing up a couple bucks for gas money when the other man made a not-so-sly suggestion. He silently endured the stupid jokes, and acted appropriately impressed at the boasted-of sexual conquests, all the while wishing he was at home where it was peaceful and quiet. But he sat up straight in the passenger seat and listened closely when Todd asked an off-the-cuff question.

“So why’d Martin quit the Council anyway, huh? No one was expecting that.” He turned to look at Shaun as he pulled into the parking lot.

Shaun just stared a moment before saying, “He’s got his reasons. If he wanted to broadcast them, then you’d already know.”

He jumped out of the car with a casual, “See ya’” and waited impatiently for Todd to pull away before sprinting for the door. He fumbled with his keys, letting out a soft curse word when the lock stuck a bit and then he was inside.

Anything he’d been planning on saying died on his tongue when he looked at Martin – he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a half-full cardboard moving box in front of him. Shaun’s gaze frantically swept around their tiny, cluttered apartment and every place he looked expecting to see something of Martin’s was empty.

The wooden shelves over his desk where Martin kept his textbooks (alphabetized, of course) was empty, the few framed photos of his family he had displayed over the T.V. were all missing, and from where Shaun was standing, Martin’s half of their tiny, closet now held only a jumble of wire hangers.

He stared in open-mouthed confusion at Martin till the other man blushed angrily and turned away. Shaun took a couple steps forward and leaned one hip against the back of the couch. He folded his arms across his chest and he waited, staring, for Martin to explain himself.

And just when the silence had seemed to go on forever, just when Shaun thought he’d start screaming any second just to break it, Martin started talking. It came out of him like a river, a flood of all those words he hadn’t said over the past six weeks, weeks he’d spend in sullen, angry silence, wondering why the world was so heartless and cruel.

“I tried, you know. I really did. When Mr. Burke said he didn’t want to have to expel me, that as long as I could give him some good reason for missing so many days, tell him why my grades had slipped so much, that he’d work with me, figure out a way to keep me in since I’d always been such a good student. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t figure out a reason to stay. I sat there and stared at him and realized I didn’t give a shit whether I graduated, whether I ever got a pointless job crunching numbers for some faceless corporation. I...I don’t know what I want anymore out of life, but I know it’s not that. Seems so unreal now to think it ever was.”

His hands lifted, fluttering into the air from where they’d been resting gently on his knees, and to Shaun they looked like wounded birds struggling to launch themselves into the air to find safety. He blinked once and shook his head as Martin went on.

“So I dropped out. Can you believe it? My folk’s are gonna kill me I know but I couldn’t think of anything else to do.” He ran his hands slowly over his knees and glanced around before reaching for the tape, loudly pulling off a strip to close the lid.

Shaun licked his lips and said slowly, “But why are you packing?”

Martin’s head jerked toward him in confusion. “Well, I quit school. Plus I quit my job.” He stopped and the look on his face told Shaun that Martin thought it was obvious.

“So you’re quitting me too, is that it?” Shaun’s jaw tensed as he spit the words out.

Martin’s eyes went wide and in an instant he was on his feet and in front of Shaun, reaching for him. He put his hands on Shaun’s shoulders, and slid them down his arms.

“No, that’s not- ” He stopped abruptly and pressed his lips together.

The pain in Martin’s eyes was hard for Shaun to look at, but he gritted his teeth and waited.

“Truthfully, I don’t know what’s gonna happen with us. But whatever does happen, Shaun, you have to believe me when I say it’s not your fault. You haven’t done anything wrong here, in fact you’ve been amazing, more than I deserve, especially the way I’ve been acting the last few weeks. But as for me? Hell, I’m a mess.”

Shaun let out a loud, unexpected bark of laughter, grinning when Martin flinched in surprise. “You’re right about that, that’s for sure.” He unfolded his arms from his chest, and held them open, inviting Martin inside.

Martin quickly stepped closer, an obvious glimmer of tears in his eyes, and Shaun just held him close, eyes shut tight, and he prayed to all the gods he could think of that somehow this would all work out all right.