Hey all!

You know when you're listening toa song, and the words just kinda inspire a fic? Well, thats what's happened here :) The song is one of my favorites called All or Nothing byO-Town.

And I just want to make sure that people understand that Im not bashing Martin or any Smarties fans. I like Martin. I really do. I just dont like him with Samantha. And two of mybest friends areSmarties, soI just want you to knowthatI didnt write this intentionally just to blast MSR, 'cos Im not like that, and I hope you know that :)

This is set somewhere in S3, there's no spoilers for any specific episodes, 'cos frankly, I havent seen any of them lol So as long as you know about MSR (who doesnt now lol) and that Jack comes back, you're fine, and well, if you didnt..sorry!

Dsclmr - The only WAT things I own are DVDs and the concept of this story. Oh! and Massimo is mine too, 'cos he keeps popping up in my fics 'cos he's just a cool dude ;)

The crisp New York night brought a welcome change to the stuffiness of Martin's apartment. As spacious and modern as it was, the home always seemed to envelope you unwillingly. Climbing from his bed, Martin opened the sliding doors and braced himself on the balcony rail. Greeting the chill, he refused the inherent notion to pull on a sweater, allowing the cold breeze to whip around his muscled torso, and through the worn, grey Quantico sweat pants.

The busy district of uptown New York bustled only slightly less in the wee hours. Maybe a few less lights, a few less people, he reasoned. He used to love nothing more than cuddling Samantha on this balcony. She, usually wearing one of his old shirts, would make little observations about the people wandering the streets a few stories down.

'uh-oh' Samantha said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two.


'That man bought flowers' she told, pointing to a stranger walking Watermeyer Street. Sure enough, held in his gloved hands, were a bunch of flowers.


'Soo…he's feeling guilty'

'Why, 'cos he bought flowers for his wife?'

'Exactly. Men only buy flowers when they're feeling guilty'

'Or they're in love'

'Yes, but they've only realised they're in love, because they did something they shouldn't have'

Wrapping his arms around her, Samantha lay her head on his bare chest, 'Trust me, you're never going to get flowers from me' he promised.

Smiling at the memory, he cast his eyes back down to the spot the 'guilty' man had walked. No flower-wielding men, he was glad to announce, just some drunken women wearing tiara's and fairy wings. 'Only in New York'.

A noise broke him from his thoughts, rushing back into the bedroom, he fished his cell phone out of his pants pocket, that were strewn across the chair. Seeing the display flashing 'Samantha', he flipped it open

'Hey, I was just thinking about you'

'I didn't wake you?'

'Nah, couldn't sleep. What's up?' he'd just noticed the time : 3.48am.

'I-I think we need to talk'

That was never a good way to start a sentence, with a man or a woman.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he begged his voice not to break at the foreboding conversation. 'Oh?'

'Can you meet me at Massimo's? On the corner of Grand and Ashton?'

'Sam, it's not even 4am…cant it wait till the morning?'

'No' That one word told him all he needed to hear, to know he wasn't going to like what was going to happen.

'O-okay, I'll meet you there'


The phone went dead. He slowly flipped it closed, bringing it to his mouth as he wished with all he could that he was just over-reacting, and that the lack of sleep was making him think crazy things.

He took a deep breath, and changed into his dark Denim jeans and grey ribbed sweater. Locking the balcony door, he grabbed his wallet and watch from the bedside table and headed towards his car.


One of the good things about New York at 4am, was that parking was relatively easy. Martin only had to round the corner from his car to be at the front door to Massimo's Italian restaurant.

He watched his hand shake slightly as it hesitantly reached for the handle. Shaking it from its paralyzed situe, he wrapped his fingers around the long metal handle, and pulled the heavy towards him, allowing him entrance.

Scanning the room, he saw a man with salt-and-pepper hair in the front corner, reading a book. In the far corner was a young couple, obviously regrouping after a night out. And then he saw her. On her own, in a table in the middle of the room sat a sullen-looking Samantha. How can she look so beautiful when she's about to break up with me? He thought, watching as a wavy strand of golden hair fell from behind her ear to her face. She tucked it back before taking a sip of coffee, and grimacing.

'Can I get you a new one?' a waiter asked, noticing the look of distaste.

'hmm? Oh, yes please. It went cold'

'Make that two' Martin ordered, taking a seat at her table. The waiter looked to Samantha for confirmation, she nodded, and the waiter went on his way.

'Thank you for meeting me here'

'No problem. Is everything okay?'

'Erm…I'm not sure' she confessed.

Martin slowly nodded. 'Is this…what I think it is?'

She locked eyes with him, hoping to see that they were on the same wave-length. Anything to not have to say it out loud.

'Are you…breaking up with me?'

The waiter returned with their drinks. She thanked him and a took a sip, avoiding the question.

'Sam, are you breaking up with me?' he repeated. He deserved the truth, and she knew that.

'I think so'


She face grew exasperated, as if she didn't know her self, 'Look, it's like this. I really like you Martin. I mean, I really really like you'

He sat back in his chair. He didn't want all of the compliments before a fall. He just wanted it straight. 'But you don't love me'

'She softly shook her head, 'No'

'You' he took a breath 'love someone else'

She thought for moment, 'yes'


Samantha closed her eyes apologetically, nodding. 'But I still really like you, that's the thing. I think we're really good together…'

'Just not good enough' he couldn't keep the pain out of his voice

She reached out and took his hand in hers. 'I'm really sorry. But…But I have to see if we, Jack and I, can work. We have the opportunity now to see.'

'Because of the divorce' he nodded, placing his other hand over hers. He had long thought that this day would come, that she would realise just what could happen now that Maria had left the equation. But still, he couldn't help falling in love with her.

'Because of the divorce' she reiterated.

'Does Jack…?'

'No, he doesn't know how I feel. I wanted to talk to you first. I never wanted to hurt you Martin, you have to understand that'

'I do'

'And…and I know things are going to be...different now, but I hope we can still be friends. I don't mean that in the 'lets be friends' sense like everybody else says, I mean it in the sense that…I don't want to lose you from my life'

'Just your love life'

'I'm really sorry'

Swallow your pride Fitzgerald. If you really love her, you'll let her go. Anything for her happiness. 'No, no, it's okay. Really. I've sorta…been waiting for this day. Since he came back, I noticed distant looks in your eyes, from when he's been on your mind'

All's she could say was 'I'm so sorry'.

They stayed their, hands clasped, as the restaurant quickly filled up with other night owls, looking for respite from the crisp New York night.