Disclaimer: Profiler isn't mine, surely not this season. It is the property of it's producers (although I'm not sure who that is right now) Stephen Kronish, I think. I'm making no profit from the telling of this story outside of the enjoyment of writing it and hopefully your enjoyment in reading it :-)

Author's Notes: this is just fairly short piece i've written to try and break a dry spell :-) It might be part of a short series, I haven't decided yet, but the ending is left a bit open just in case. I'd love to hear your thoughts about this little piece. Thanks! ~Kaly

The large offices of the VCTF were dark and deserted when John walked into the area where his desk sat. Falling down into the hardbacked chair at his desk, he began rummaging through the drawers. He gave a small cry of victory when he found the object of his search, pulling it from the desk. Holding the camera in his hand, he pushed the drawer shut.

As he turned to leave the office, he caught a glimpse of light coming from under Sam's office door. A look of concern filtered across his handsome features, and he walked up the small stairway to her office.

He knocked on the door softly, hoping to discover that she had simply forgotten to turn off her light. The theory was proven wrong when he heard Sam's voice call out, "Yes?"

Turning the doorknob, he pushed the door open and walked inside. Squinting against the bright light after having been in the dark office, he saw her look of confusion at his being there. "Hey, Sam."

"John? What are you doing at the office? Is everything okay?" She half stood from her seat, but John motioned for her to stay seated.

He smiled softly and walked over to sit on the edge of her desk, laying his camera down beside him. "That is exactly what I was about to ask you," he said in a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell me, why is it that you find yourself here tonight of all nights?"

Sam looked down at the folder that lay open on her desk. "Just some reading to catch up on, that's all."

John glanced at the papers she had been reading. "The Sloane case? Sam, that's all but wrapped up. There's nothing that couldn't have waited till Monday."

"John, I . . ."

He interrupted her saying, "Don't look at me like that, Doctor Waters. It's New Year's Eve, you should be out at a party all dressed up." He paused, his blue eyes softening. "I remember you mentioning that Chloe was spending a few days up on her grandparents farm, why aren't you out painting the town?"

Sam laughed shortly, "No one to paint it with?"

John screwed up what little courage he could muster where Sam's love life was concerned and managed to ask "What about the guy working Jack's case? The two of you seemed rather cozy not so long ago." He paused, unsure of whether he really wanted to know the answer.

"That didn't work out," Sam explained in a low voice.

Fighting the breath of relief he knew was coming, John succeeded in sounding neutral. "Sorry to hear that, Sam."

Sam shook her head, "No, it was for the best. I guess I'm just glad it's over."

In the silence that followed her statement, a faint radio could be heard playing somewhere out in the offices. The two agents sat there, listening to the distant melody before John stood up. Thinking he was about to leave, Sam stood to follow him to the door.

"Sam, I . . ." he was cut off as she fell into his arms as he turned. Fighting a laugh, John helped Sam extract herself from the jumble of arms. "Well," he said when they were finally separated, "not exactly how I had planned, but . . ." He held out his hand, "It's not right to not have at least a New Year's dance."

Her gaze flickered back and forth between his face and his offered hand. A glint of a smile filled her eyes as she took his hand. "How could I say no to such an endearing offer?" she asked with a laugh.

With a mock bow, he replied, "I live but to serve."

Music continued to drift in though the open doorway. Still grasping her hand in his, he placed his arm around her waist as she laid her hand on his shoulder. For some time, they simply swayed along with the beat of the music, content not to speak.

"So, Mr. Astare," Sam laughed, "you never said why you were in the office tonight."

John feigned innocence. "Who me?" Having earned an exasperated look from Sam, he laughed. "All right, I forgot to take my camera home. Satisfied?"

"Hot date?" Sam asked, pulling back slightly.

Shaking his head, John replied, "Nah, just some buddies getting together down at O'Malley's."

John was interrupted by the dee jay on the radio, "Well, everybody, 1998 is almost over. In fact, you've got thirty seconds to find someone to give a New Year's kiss to."

Sam and John laughed. "I guess we can't argue with tradition, huh?" Sam asked, blushing slightly.

"Might as well just give in," John replied.

The voice on the radio began to count down from ten, and John leaned down to Sam. As the count reached one, their lips met in a light kiss. When they finally broke apart, Aude Lang Syne was playing.

In the seconds that followed, two pairs of blue eyes searched the depths of the other. With little hesitation their lips met again, John's hands framing Sam's face. Heated urgency quickly took over the kiss, the innocence of the first forgotten.

When the kiss finally ended, Sam looked up at John, suddenly aware of something she had been fighting within herself for some time. At some point during their kiss, she discovered that the feelings she'd noticed for him long ago were still there. Looking up into his eyes, she opened her mouth to speak, but John beat her to it.

"Sam, I . . ." He paused, backing away from her and toward the door. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have . . ." Halfway through the door, he turned, repeating "I'm sorry."

For her part, Sam stood there, unsure what to do. Her heart told her to go after him, yet something held her still. She had seen the confused look that flickered in John's eyes before he turned. Although not quite sure, she could swear she saw hurt that bordered on panic there as well, even though she had no idea why.

Sam turned back to her desk, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss they had shared. Seeing the camera sitting on her desk, she smiled. "I'll give you some space now John, but tomorrow we talk," she said to herself, picking up the small camera. It was as if her eyes had finally been opened to see something that had been there all along.

A special something she didn't want to let run away, only to ask what if about years later. "I only hope you felt the same way I do," she whispered.

fin