Activity around the Command Center was buzzing at what she recalled passed for normal when the elevator stopped, its doors sliding open with a soft ping. The lone woman standing inside stood still for a long moment, until the doors began to close again and she hurried forward. Not far, just enough so that the elevator could go on its way.

Just over four years ago, she had run away -- from this place and everything it embodied. That part of her life -- the monsters and demons... and the friends -- had been something she had relegated to the past. Now, all those years later, she realized she didn't miss chasing after the bad guys; she was certain that the work had continued, even without her there.

What she did miss, terribly so, were the friendships she'd formed. To say they were among the best she'd ever known would be a gross understatement.

Now, looking around as the men and women went about their work, she paused and took a deep breath. A large part of her wondered how much had changed while she was away, at the same time hoping that somehow it hadn't changed at all.

She knew Grace had a baby not long after she left. A new profiler had come and gone, only to be replaced again. Bailey was still head of the task force. But that was it. No other news. Bailey's contacts had been few and far between, and to be fair, it was her request to remain so far removed. It was one she had since grown to regret.

Blinking, she shook herself from the memories. At least one person she didn't recognize had begun to stare at her. With a last glance around, noting the matching ramps that flowed toward the sunken floor below, she descended the short stairs.

She knew without glancing at her watch that the morning briefing was in progress. It was the main reason she hadn't been noticed yet, she was certain. If she were to be honest with herself, she had planned it that way.

As she neared the briefing room she overheard some of the others whispering. A quick look over her shoulder and she knew it was she they were discussing. Tuning it out, she hesitated just outside the main entrance to the briefing room. Closing her eyes, she listened to voices she hadn't heard in a very long time.

"Anything else, people?" Bailey.

Grace: "I'll get back to you once I've spent some quality time with the body."

Muted laughter. "Only you would look at it that way, Grace." A voice she didn't know.

Then George. "The man's got a point."

"Now, now. We all know how you are with that computer..." Her eyes snapped open. Nathan? When did he come back?

The next voice caused Sam to smile. "You're just jealous 'cause you've got neither, Brubaker." John, tacky humor at the ready as always.

Nathan laughed. "And you, Grant?"

"I've got wheels." Cocky tone of voice, as always when they would banter. And again with the cars... She groaned, still smiling. You'd think he'd learned after Marcus shot his Porsche.

The snickers and groans following John's comment covered any noise she might have made. It was ended when Bailey said, "All right. Out. Go solve crimes. Catch bad guys."

Seeing her chance, Sam walked around the corner where she had been hiding. "Do you always need to have the last word, Bai?" The shocked silence and wide eyes that met her caused Sam to laugh. "Surprise?"

With that, near pandemonium ensued.

Grace was the first to recover, jumping up from her chair just a bit quicker than Bailey and Nathan. She pulled Sam into a tight hug. Seconds later, she leaned back to arm's length. "Where... How..." Dropping her hands she laughed. "You're actually here!"

Sam laughed, glancing at the others, including the one face she didn't recognize. "Is she always like this these days?"

"Welcome back, Sammy," Bailey said, pulling her away from Grace and into a warm embrace. After the hug ended, he winked. "And no, she's usually still quite wordy." Grace elbowed Bailey in the ribs for his trouble.

Sam looked at Nathan, who had managed to move in front of Bailey and Grace. "What about you, Nathan? How'd they suck you back in?"

Simply shaking his head, Nathan laughed and hugged her as well. "Must be their charm." He grinned. "Or probably not."

The unknown man stepped forward then. "Allan Butler. I've heard a lot about you, Dr. Waters."

Shaking his hand, Sam laughed and glanced around conspiratorially, "Don't believe any of it."

"No, it was good." He laughed, looking at the others. "Well, for the most part. Ouch," he added, turning to his left where George stood. George, she noted, having elbowed him in the arm to get past.

"Quit hogging," George said with a grin. "How've you been, Sam?" he asked, amid yet another hug.

Sam smiled. "I'm great, George. Still attached to your computer?"

"Aw, give the guy a break," Nathan said, cuffing George on the back of the head. "He can't help it he's literally grown attached to it."

The computer-guru mock pushed back, the roughhousing reminding Sam of the days when they'd just formed the VCTF.

"Break it up, break it up." Grinning at Sam, Bailey complained, "It's like working in a preschool."

Shaking her head, Sam smiled. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Why thank you," George replied, pretending to glare at Nathan.

"They're in second grade at least, wouldn't you say Grace?"

At the deadpan comment, George rolled his eyes. "Nathan are we gonna take this?"

"Nope," he grinned, turning back to the table to collect his files. "I'm gonna leave and try to get some work done."

As he did so, George walked around the far side of the table. As the mass of people began to disperse, Sam looked across the room. Her gaze fell on the person she'd found herself missing the most and frowned.

John was still sitting where he had been when she first walked in. Confusion curled in the back of her mind, mixed with a twinge of hurt. They'd been close before her sudden move. It was one of the hardest choices to make -- not only leaving. Leaving him -- and without telling him goodbye. How could she explain she was afraid to face him? That he would be the one thing that could convince her to stay.

As if the others noticed a change in the air, they began to leave quickly. George and Nathan disappeared out the far door, Grace to the stairs and Bailey and the new profiler toward Bailey's office.

That just left them -- Sam and John, the VCTF's 'are they or aren't they' couple two years running. She wasn't a fool, she knew the rumors. Hell, she knew about the pool, too. Not that anyone had won, she and John had been smarter than that.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his, she walked up to the table. "John."

When she'd first walked into the room, he was sure it had been a trick of light. His imagination or hope just showing him something he'd wanted to see for years. It wasn't until the utter silence had finally erupted into chaos that he'd realized everyone else had seen her, too.

Sam had really walked back into his life the same way she'd walked out -- with no warning whatsoever.

He'd watched, half in a daze, as everyone had jumped up, hugging and smiling. John had sat there, quietly, as the others milled around her making jokes and introducing Butler. Funny, he'd never thought he'd just stay there, speechless, if she reappeared back in his life.

John Grant, man of action. He scoffed under his breath. Apparently not.

Realizing that Sam was staring at him, he forced a grin. "Hey, Sam."

She nodded, and John felt his stomach tighten. "John. You're more... restrained than usual."

Trying not to wince at the comment, he shook his head. "Nope, same ole John Grant. Warped as ever." When Sam finally cracked a smile, he let out a long breath. "What brings you here, Sam?" he asked in a low voice.

It was too easy to remember how she just disappeared overnight. Though if he were to admit it, he had known something was changing for a while before that. Even before Jack was finally captured. The part of which included them... That just made him all the more willing to ignore the signs.

She dropped into a seat across from him and he watched as Sam traced an abstract pattern on the tabletop with her finger. There was another moment of silence before she finally said, "I needed to see everyone." Another pause, while she continued to run her hand over the table. John reached over and grasped her hand in his own, stilling the nervous motion.

"Sam?"

Looking at their hands for several seconds, she finally met John's gaze. "I missed..."

John couldn't remember hardly ever seeing her so indecisive. The Sam he'd fallen in love with had always known what she thought, and spoken her mind. This Sam was one he didn't recognize quite so easily. He squeezed her hand, trying to smile.

She blinked quickly, looking up at him. "I missed everything, everyone..." She looked away, and back again. "But you're what brought me back."

John's breath caught in his throat at the whispered confession. "Sam..." He shook his head. This wasn't supposed to happen, he'd accepted that. And after a certain point been grateful for it. "I'm sorry."

Before he pulled his gaze from her face, he saw the shock blossom there. "John?"

He pulled his hands away from hers. "I can't."

Turning, he reached under the table and popped the locks on the wheels that rested there. Stifling a sigh, he tugged on the wheels, slowly rolling backward away from the table. He couldn't miss the sudden gasp from Sam as he angled the chair to the side and quickly exited the room.

Once moving, he didn't look back. He couldn't. Pity was the last thing he wanted to see fill those beautiful blue eyes.

For several minutes, Sam sat there unmoving -- staring at the doorway that John had disappeared through. She had no doubt the shock she felt was showing on her face. Her suspicion was confirmed when Bailey dropped a hand onto her shoulder.

"Sammy?" Sam flinched and turned toward him, she saw the understanding in his eyes. "It's been a long time, Sam."

Blinking, Sam managed finally to swallow around the lump in her throat. Again looking at the empty doorway, she shook her head. "What happened?" The question was barely a whisper, her shock bleeding into her voice.

Bailey gestured toward his office after removing his hand from Sam's shoulder. "Let's go somewhere more private and talk, okay Sam?"

Nodding, Sam stood and followed the older man through the familiar offices. Once the door was shut behind them, she rubbed a hand over her eyes. "What happened, Bailey?"

Sam watched as, with a last glance out across the bullpen, Bailey closed the blinds that covered his office window. She waited for him to turn, chewing on her lip in an effort to not ask anymore until he replied.

"A very long story, Sammy." When she opened her mouth to comment, he held up a hand. "One that's not mine to tell."

At the not so familiar burn of tears in her eyes, Sam blinked quickly. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

Bailey walked around his desk, and dropped unceremoniously into his chair. "It was his life Sam. His choice."

Following his lead, Sam sat down in one of the chairs in front of Bailey's desk. "Bailey..."

The older man shook his head. "No, Sam. It was his call. John went through a lot with..." Bailey cleared his throat, fumbling one of his cigars in his hands. "When it happened. He had a hard time dealing with what he took to be pity, even from those of us who were around him everyday. It was a long time before he'd consent to rejoining the group."

"How..." Sam stopped, coughing softly. Looking everywhere but at Bailey, she finally asked, "What does he do?"

"Officially," Bailey smiled faintly, "he's a liaison with the home office. Unofficially, he's not much different than he was before. He just doesn't get to kick down doors and go on foot chases." He paused, but before Sam could speak he added, "And he's something of a profiler in training. John has good instincts, Sam. We knew that all along.

"It was one of the reasons we were able to convince the brass -- as well as John -- that he should stay. He's good, Sammy. You'd be proud."

The seemingly ever-present lump back in her throat, Sam could only nod. It was a lot to take in, even the abridged version. Running a hand through her hair, Sam unconsciously glanced toward the door that John was somewhere beyond.

She stood without even thinking about it. Her instincts were screaming at her to find him. After all, they were same instincts that had brought her back to Atlanta in the first place. "Bailey, I..."

Nodding, he gestured toward the door. "Go, Sammy. We'll catch up some other time."

"Thanks," she replied, giving him a grateful glance before hurrying out of his office. Only once she was outside, did she stop long enough to realize she had no idea where John might have gone.

Right then, John was sitting in the lunchroom -- which was thankfully empty. It was odd, even before... Before, he had been known to retreat to the dining area when he needed to think. Unless it was really bad, then he headed for the men's room to punch the paper towel dispenser.

Before. John sighed, shaking his head. It had been ages since it had bothered him. Well, really bothered him. It wasn't as if not being able to walk anymore was something he could overlook. But it was something he'd come to terms with, could deal with. Could even live with.

Until he'd seen her standing there -- his very own angel-by-the-bedside looking straight at him. He wouldn't have thought it possible to forget how much he felt for her, until she was there. So much came rushing back into his chest then. He couldn't breathe; couldn't think.

Suddenly the reality of who he had become slammed home. He wasn't the person she remembered from before. Even on his best days he knew he would never be that man again. He thought he had come to terms with that. Maybe he had, until he saw the recognition -- pity -- cross her face.

It was the first time in a very long time that he wanted nothing more than to be the man he once was. To be the man she might love in return. Running his hands over his face and through his hair, John sighed again.

Damn, he hadn't allowed himself to think how much he missed her, until he saw her again. And now there was no chance...

"John?"

He jumped, the quiet question having caught him by surprise. Spinning around, he looked up at Sam. "Hi. Again."

She hesitated for a second, before gesturing toward the chair beside John. "May I?"

Nodding, he acquiesced. He knew he wouldn't be able to avoid this particular conversation forever. Maybe as long as possible, though. "By all means."

"At first I wasn't sure where to look for you. Then I remembered your... affinity for the cafeteria." She smiled, that familiar tilting half smile that John always loved. "Never quite understood it myself..."

Not quite smiling, John half-laughed. "You had Nathan check the bathroom first, didn't you?" Seeing the blush that stained Sam's cheek, John laughed outright. "Thought so."

Still blushing, Sam shook her head, glancing away. "Well, it seemed like a place to start."

John waited for a moment, quickly sobering. "So, you found me." Looking away from Sam, he glanced around the room. Not that he didn't have the walls memorized after so many years, he noted. "What now?"

He couldn't help but notice that Sam looked uncomfortable at the question. But it wasn't something he wanted to avoid -- like some other discussions. After a long pause, Sam looked at him. "We talk?"

"Okay. How's Chlo?" He saw Sam blink, obviously not expecting the shift in conversation. "I bet she's all grown up."

"She's great." Sam smiled faintly. "In high school now. A cheerleader, even."

John blinked. "Wow. Time flies. Pretty soon she'll being worrying with graduation."

"Not too soon, I hope," Sam replied with a small smile. "She's still my little girl." Neither spoke for a moment before Sam added, "She misses you. Asks about you every once in a while..." Sam paused, swallowing quickly. "John, can't we talk? Really talk?"

"Sam..." John looked away once more. He couldn't bring himself to actually meet her pointed gaze. "What's there to say?" he asked, eventually. Shaking his head, he rolled his chair away from her. "I've got work to do."

He saw her stand and begin to follow, but didn't turn around. "John..." her whispered call drifted after him into the corridor, but he kept moving forward.

It was how he'd lived -- before and after. It was the truest lesson growing up and fleeing as an O'Doyle had taught him. Always move forward -- and never look back.

For a bit, Sam merely wandered around the Command Center. There were a few odd glances, a few surprised ones. It didn't come as much of a surprise to her that she eventually found herself standing outside Grace's office.

Sam had raised a hand to knock, but had not even touched the surface of the door when it was quickly pulled inward.

"I wondered how long it'd take you to get here," Grace said, hands on her hips.

Walking inside the still-familiar office, Sam laughed. "I don't know. Places to go, people to see. I had to get all the way down here eventually."

Sighing with mock indignation, Grace sat back on her desk. "It's good to see you, Sam."

Wrapping her arms around her chest, Sam explored the labyrinthine office before turning back to Grace. "I've actually missed this place." She smiled, dropping into the lone chair beside the other woman's desk. "Mostly I've missed all of you."

Grace nodded, a serious expression on your face. "Why did you leave like you did? I mean I know what was in your letter..."

"I had to get away." Sam shrugged, looking away from Grace's searching gaze. "There was too much here. And... maybe I wasn't thinking everything totally through."

"How's Chloe?" Grace asked a long moment later.

Her smile returning, Sam laughed. "She's wonderful. Even if I do believe she's trying to kill me with these teenage years." Sam noticed the pictures on Grace's desk and gestured toward them. "Yours? How are the little ones?"

"Not so little," Grace grinned, "for starters." Turning, she picked up a picture that showed herself with a young boy and a little girl. Holding it so that Sam could see, she said, "Jason's six, Madeline's three."

Sam took the picture from Grace's hand, touching her fingertips to the glass. "They're beautiful, Grace."

"Thank you." She smiled, cocking her head to the side. "I'd like to think I had something to do with that."

Laughing, Sam handed the picture back. "Oh, I'm sure." She thought for a moment before asking, "And Morgan?" Looking at Grace's hand, she added, "You're not wearing..."

Grace shook her head. "No. We finally ended it about the time Maddy was born."

"I'm so sorry, Grace." Sam blushed, "I didn't mean to..."

"How could you have known?" Grace asked, waving her hand in dismissal. "You couldn't have, it was a fair question."

Sam flinched, the small motion almost unnoticeable. Just one more reminder, she realized, of how things had changed.

"What?" she asked with a start, realizing that Grace had been asking her something.

The other woman smiled softly. "I said, what about you? I don't see a ring on your hand either."

Sam shook her head, staring at her hands for a long moment. "No. Nothing like that."

Grace watched Sam for a long moment, and Sam found herself feeling as if she was under one of the microscopes that rested along the far wall. "There's something you're not telling, Sam. I know you."

"I don't know what you mean."

Although shaking her head, Sam noticed that Grace didn't quite roll her eyes. "Yes you do. There's something you're not telling. Something else is going on here, other than a surprise -- and may I emphasize surprise -- visit."

"I know." She rubbed her fingers over her eyes, a dull ache having settled there after her first encounter with John that morning. "It's, well, it's complicated."

Sam felt a bit unnerved when suddenly Grace smiled, nodding. "Yes. He is."

Flinching, Sam jerked her attention fully to Grace. "'He'? I didn't say 'he'."

"It's always been a certain 'he' where these kind of things were involved." Grace smiled, causing Sam to note she looked a bit like all those mornings when she'd found some piece of evidence that could help the case and had just shared with the others. It was a look of accomplishment mixed with pride.

Funny, Sam realized she'd rarely noted it turned toward a person before. Much less herself. Trying to turn the conversation, she replied, "Grace, it's not..."

But she would not be deterred, and Sam almost, but not quite, groaned. "Have you talked to him?"

"Yes." She paused, biting back her answer. "No." Sam shook her head, that wasn't right either. "A bit."

Grace nodded. "And?"

Sam dropped her head into her hands. "He wouldn't talk to me." Taking a deep breath, she sat up straight. "Why wouldn't he talk to me, Grace? We've always talked. About everything."

"Honey," Grace said, leaning forward a bit. "A lot's changed while you were gone."

Nodding, Sam agreed. "I know. It's just... I thought maybe..."

"That time wouldn't affect the two of you."

Sam nodded miserably. "Something like that."

"He's still the same John," Grace said, laying a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Just as stubborn. Just as liable to run away as to risk his heart." When Grace smiled, Sam felt a bit of relief wash over her. "You were the one he always trusted with his heart the most. But it's going to take time, Sam."

"I hurt him." It wasn't a question, and Sam realized that Grace knew that.

"Yeah, Sam. You did. But you can fix it. If you're willing to try." There was a long pause, and for once Sam found herself hating the silence that enveloped the room. "He still loves you. There've been others... but none had the spark the two of you constantly tried to deny."

Sam laughed, even though she knew it sounded small and weak. Sobering, she blinked at the moisture that bit her eyes. "I loved him. I know I did. I just was afraid to let myself."

"Jack's a long time gone, sweetie." Sam surprised herself by not even flinching at the mention of his name. Every small step forward was still a step. It was how she'd learned to look at Jack's effect on her life a long time before.

"I know, Grace. I know."

Grace's face took on a distant look. "He's gone through a lot. We all have, but John most of all." She shook her head sadly. "He almost gave up. For a long time he thought that if he couldn't walk he couldn't work -- that he wasn't worth the effort. It took a lot of time and patience to help him believe otherwise."

Sam stared at the wall. "And now?"

"And now he's more the John you remember. But like all of us, he has good days and bad." She smiled. "Keep after him, Sam. Convince him today's the former, not the latter."

For the rest of the day, John's concentration was shot. After leaving the cafeteria, he had gone back to his desk. Only once there, he'd really only stared at the papers that littered the top.

His mind kept retracing what had happened that day. Sam's returning had by far been the last thing he would ever have expected. Maybe that was part of why it was so hard to grasp. Sighing, he closed the folder he'd been holding for the past hour and leaned back in his chair.

He rolled his head around on his shoulders, trying to stretch his neck. In doing so, he cast a long glance around the large room. Not too far away, Nathan sat at his own desk, curled around the phone. John smiled. Maybe he and Michelle were going to fight for their marriage after all.

Although he was beginning to doubt it possible, the day did end. Eventually Nathan strolled over by his desk. "Ready to head out, Grant?"

John nodded, tossing his pen onto the desk. "Why yes, I am. How could you tell?" He winced at the sarcastic bite in his voice, knowing that Nathan wasn't the one who should be at the receiving end. Then again, he wasn't exactly sure who was -- Sam or himself.

Nathan held up his hands. "All right then." John watched as Nathan paused, all but able to see as the other man considered his options. "How about dinner, want to grab something?"

"Nah, thanks though," John said, shaking his head. "I think I just want to go home."

"Strange day, huh?" Nathan asked, not quite collapsing into the chair beside John's desk. Resting his elbow on the desk, he dropped his chin onto his palm. John remained quiet, causing Nathan to continue. "Never thought we'd see her again, did you?"

Staring at his hands for a long moment, John shrugged. He had done his best to avoid thinking about what Sam's return could mean. But everywhere he turned it appeared someone wanted to talk about it.

"No, not really," he finally agreed -- more out of pity for Nathan than anything. He tried to laugh. "Just one more time the team of Grant and Brubaker has been proven wrong, it would appear."

"Hey now," Nathan replied, taking the bait. "Watch who you're calling wrong. Besides, it's Brubaker and Grant, hotshot."

Waving Nathan away from his desk, John rolled his eyes. "Up, up. Go. I want to beat the worst of the traffic."

"What did your last slave die of?" Nathan asked, laughing as he stood.

John winked. "A sound beating. Now let's go."

Finding John's apartment hadn't been as hard as she'd feared. Grace had not only given in, relinquishing the new address, but had practically glowed as she did so. Sam forced back a grin. Typical Grace.

Focusing her attention on the closed door, Sam willed herself to knock. She knew John was home -- she'd seen the almost-modest car downstairs that Grace had said was now his. All that remained now was to try and face him. She wished the thought didn't scare her quite so badly.

She had messed up by leaving. Sam only hoped it was a mistake that she could make amends for.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked on the door. In the moments it took John to answer, Sam could hardly breathe. Years might come down to one moment. Before she could worry any more, the door was pulled open and she found herself staring at John once more.

"Hi."

He didn't look surprised to see her, she noted. John moved off to the side, so that he was no longer blocking the entry. "Hey, Sam." Waving toward the apartment, he added, "Come on in."

Trying to smile, but not managing, she did as he suggested. "Grace gave me your address," she blurted out, only to find herself fighting the urge to blush.

For his part, John merely nodded. "I figured as much."

"You don't mind, do you?" Sam asked, her attention divided between John and glancing around the spacious apartment. "I can leave if you do."

She turned around to face him, hoping to catch his reaction. Surprisingly, he just shook his head. "No. I don't mind. Would have happened sooner or later, I suppose."

Leaning against the back of the couch, Sam nodded. "You couldn't avoid me forever."

"Funny." John gave a cool laugh, and a shudder ran up Sam's spine. "Seems like that's part of what you've been trying to do." A smile that didn't touch his eyes turned John's lips. "Or am I wrong about that?"

Sam shook her head, dropping her gaze to the carpet for a moment. She hated the cold look that had found its way to John's features. "No. You're right," she admitted in a low voice. Looking up, she met his gaze. "I ran. I was scared." She saw something in his face give, a softening of the eyes, but she pressed onward. "Of you. Of Jack. Of lots of things."

John moved forward, so that he was right in front of Sam. "But before. We had something then."

"I know." The whispered admission ripped from her throat. She glanced upward, blinking fast. "Everything happened so fast. I wasn't thinking, exactly."

"About us?"

"No." Sam shook her head, her hair falling into her eyes. "I convinced myself that we'd tried and failed. That it was meant to be we go our separate ways."

She watched as John slowly moved away, not stopping until he reached a large window on the opposite wall. He sat there, motionless, for several seconds. When he finally spoke, she had to lean forward to catch it.

"Being wary of Jack I can understand. Being tired of trying to get inside the head of every psycho out there, I more than understand." It occurred to her that he might understand, at that. Considering what Bailey had said about his new job with the VCTF.

She watched as he continued to stare across the city, silent for a moment. Darkness was falling and the lights of Atlanta were beginning to flicker to life. It cast an almost eerie glow on what she could see of John's face.

Unable to think of a reply, she waited until he continued. "But why didn't I get a say, if what we were... trying, was a factor?"

Sam didn't blink. She couldn't, for fear the moisture in her eyes might finally give way to tears. Four years of doubt and regret were coalescing in one conversation. Sam stepped forward on unsteady feet. "Can you not even look at me?"

John shook his head, shadows playing across his features. However, he did turn toward her. "You never even said goodbye, Sam." Again he laughed, a brittle sound. "I didn't even get to see Chloe again. You were both just gone."

"I'm sorry." She stood just behind John and whispered the words, one hand reaching out to ghost against his back.

After a pause, John nodded. "So am I."

Sam dropped her hand, almost backing away at the sad tone of voice. "So there's no hope for us at all?"

John turned around then, finally looking Sam in the face. "How can there be, Sam? I'm not the same person you left behind." Sam couldn't help recalling her conversation with Grace.

"I think you are." Sam couldn't help it; she touched his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "Looking at you, I only see the John that wouldn't give up on me. The one I fell in love with."

"Sam... I don't think I could stand your pity." His voice was strained and when he looked up at her, his blue eyes were pained.

"Pity's the last thing I'm feeling. I'm anxious, yes. Scared, nervous -- both. I admire you and I've been in love with you longer than even I realize..." Taking his hand, she swallowed hard and kneeled in front of him. "Please," she asked in a whisper. "Tell me about it."

When he opened his mouth to reply, but stayed silent, she gently placed her other hand on his knee. She watched as his gaze flickered between her face and hand he couldn't feel. "If you're convinced that you're not the same person, let me know who you are now. Please, John."

"This is me now," he gestured toward the apartment and his chair. "One bullet can change a lot of things."

She half smiled. "I'd think it'd take a lot more to change John Grant. Stubborn as ever." Her voice lowered, "And just as willing to hurt if it means someone else doesn't have to."

"Sam..."

"I finally got it out of Nathan," she said, interrupting him. "Bailey wouldn't tell me. Grace couldn't. But Nathan told me what happened."

John shook his head, sniffing indignantly. "Damn Brubaker... He wasn't even here then."

"I know. I finally figured out that was part of what brought him back. He's a good friend." Sam took John's hand and squeezed it. "He only wanted to help, and I wouldn't leave him alone." When John remained quiet, she kept talking. "You saved their lives with the stunt you pulled."

John surprised Sam when he snickered. "Yeah, laying in the hospital, drugged to the gills and Bailey still reamed me a new one over it."

"He was scared. According to Nathan they all were."

Nodding, John let out a long breath. "I know they were. I just did what had to be done."

"That doesn't make you different." Again she touched his cheek, tracing the very faint scar that ran along the right side of his face. Yet another reminder of that night. "In fact, it's the kind of thing that makes you the John that used to annoy me so much." She smiled at his perplexed look. "All the while worming his way into my heart.

"Can you forgive me for running away? Is there a chance..."

John raised his free hand to touch her hair, and she leaned into the touch. "Why, Sam? Why now, why at all?" She couldn't miss the doubt that colored his voice.

She blinked, taken aback. She thought they'd already covered this part. "I love you. I loved you then, I never stopped."

"But you left."

"I ran away. I was wrong, very wrong."

John sat back in his chair; still unable to believe the surreal turn the evening had taken. "Sam..." He saw the hurt look on her face and winced. Barely whispering, he said, "Even before I woke to find an angel beside my bed, I loved you. When I didn't think I knew how to love anymore, I fell in love with you."

Sam smiled, the brilliant smile he often found himself remembering. The one that was so rare during the dark days surrounding Jack. The one that seemed to exist only for him, the few times they held one another before her departure.

"What now?" he asked, repeating his question from earlier.

Leaning forward, still smiling, Sam pressed her lips to his. It started slow -- their first kiss in four years -- but it felt to John as if those years had fallen away in that moment. He held Sam's face in his hands, sighing into the slow, soft kiss. When they broke apart, he brushed her cheeks with his thumbs, truly happy for the first time in a very long time.

John could see her eyes sparkling when she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Now," she replied, "we live happily ever after." She laughed as she said it, the sound falling like music.

"Isn't that a bit cliche?" he asked, half-grimacing.

Though she rolled her eyes, Sam's smile didn't fade. "Heaven forbid we be predictable."

He laughed, twining his hands through her hair. "Can't have that."

"No, not at all, that would be..."

Whatever else Sam was going to say was cut off as John captured her lips under his own. Who knew, he decided. Maybe there was a chance after all.