Part one

There was nothing unusual about that summer day when it started. Sam woke up, able to hear the birds singing outside her window. Sitting up in bed, she stretched her arms up over her head. She glanced out her bedroom window, and reveled in the sight of the suburban neighborhood that she and Chloe lived in.

For so many years her life, even her home had been decided by Jack. It was only now, after both the imposter and the real Jack had been incarcerated that she was truly free. A smile on her face, she quickly got out of bed and went to wake up Chloe.

An hour later, she was dressed for work, and was helping Chloe find her missing sandal. "Here it is," she called out, standing up from behind Chloe's bed.

"I wonder how it got under there?" the young girl asked as innocently as she could manage.

Sam managed to conceal her laughter. "Sandal monster?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "I doubt that, Mom."

"Could it be that you forgot to put it up the last time you wore them?" Sam asked, mirth glowing in her eyes.

As she pulled on the sandal, Chloe avoided the question. "Better hurry or I'll miss the bus." She laughed as she left the room.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?" She couldn't help but ask. Even though she felt safer with Jack finally out of the picture, she was still reluctant to let go completely.

The girl turned to look at her mom, and stood with her hands on her hips. "I want to be like everyone else at school, Mom."

"And everyone else rides the bus," Sam guessed. Chloe nodded eagerly, and Sam found herself relenting. "Okay, but you're right. You better hurry."

Rolling her eyes, Chloe responded as she ran down the stairs. "That's what I said in the first place."

Sam smiled and followed Chloe down the stairs. "No running in the house, though. I don't care how late you are."

"Yes, ma'am," she said, and gave Sam a kiss on the cheek before skipping through the front door toward the bus stop.

Sam watched Chloe skip all the way to the bus stop, where she ran into several girls her own age and began to talk eagerly. Closing the door, Sam walked into her study and pushed all of the papers she would need at the office into her attache case. A few moments later she was on her way into downtown Atlanta.

***

When his alarm sounded, John grumbled. He reached an arm out from under the covers and slapped the alarm. The harsh noise abated, he lay under the covers with his eyes closed for a few minutes. Yawning, he forced himself to get out of bed before he fell back asleep and was late for work again.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he had just finished brushing his teeth when he looked closely at his reflection. "Grant, I'd say it's about time for a haircut." He muttered to himself as he ran a hand through the unruly curls.

After making a mental note to get a haircut, as had become a ritual for the past several mornings, he stepped into the shower. For a few minutes he stood under the steaming water, not wanting to move. Never a morning person, John put his face into the spray, trying to wake up.

Emerging from the shower a short time later, John grabbed a towel and headed back into his bedroom. After picking out a suit for the day, he dressed quickly and went back into the bathroom to try and control his hair.

When he walked into the living room, he glanced at the clock and was relieved to see that he had enough time to make some coffee. He was disappointed a little while later, however, when after rummaging in the kitchen he discovered that he was out of coffee.

"Oh, this is gonna be a great day," he muttered, "I can just see it already." Rubbing his hands over his eyes in an attempt to stay awake, he grabbed his car keys and locked the apartment door behind him.

***

The morning briefing was short, the result of a temporary lull in cases. "Anything else, Georgie?" Bailey looked at the computer genius as he spoke.

George shook his head. "Not for the moment." George laughed. "But that's a good thing."

"A hard to believe thing, is more like it," John said, grinning.

"Well," Bailey said, standing up. "We have to take what we can get."

Grace smiled and stood. "I like the idea, personally."

Sam was looking at the final paperwork for their last case. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Grace, we all do."

"So, go catch up on paperwork." Bailey's gaze settled on John when he said the words.

The younger agent half-laughed, feigning innocence. "What are you looking at me for?"

"Nothing." Bailey laughed. "Just waiting on your paperwork from the Burns case."

George grinned. "Ouch, John. That was three weeks ago."

"Quality takes time, George." John shifted from innocence to self-defense fluidly.

Shaking her head, Grace smiled. "Are you sure that's quality and not quantity? I've seen some of your notes."

"Why Grace, I'm hurt," John said, mock offense of his face.

George stopped typing on his computer keyboard to look over at John. "You're not in as much pain as we are. That shirt is blinding." To emphasize his point, he covered his eyes with his hand.

Sam laughed, finally drawn into the conversation. "He has a point, John. Where did you get all of these clothes all of a sudden?"

John turned to look at Sam, a daring smile on his face. "Was that Dr. Waters asking me about my fashion sense?"

"Lack thereof, actually," Sam baited.

While they were distracted discussing John's choice of wardrobe, Bailey and Grace made a silent exit, not noticed by the three remaining agents.

"Barnum and Bailey have a sale, John?" Sam asked.

John laughed, surprised by Sam's change in character. "You did <> just say that."

"Maybe that's where he got the hair." George managed a straight face as he spoke, pointing to John's head with his pencil.

The outnumbered agent turned his attention to stare at George. "So I need a hair cut, so what. What is this? Pick on Grant day?"

"No, but it should be," George baited. Not letting them be distracted, George persisted. "Back to your hair, are you <> going to get it cut?"

John nodded, not managing to look as sure as he'd like. "If I can ever remember to make an appointment."

"I could do it," Sam offered, glancing up from her notes.

George and John laughed, exchanging a disbelieving glance. "You?" John finally managed to ask.

Sam nodded, somewhat bewildered. "Why not?"

"No offense, Sam, but I'd rather not be scalped."

Smiling, Sam replied. "Who said anything about scalping?" She paused for a moment, enjoying the shocked looks that passed across her colleagues' faces. "Besides, you could always buy that hair in a can they advertise on television." John opened his mouth to reply, but was held off. "I'm kidding, John."

"So say you know something about cutting hair," John hedged. "Why the sudden offer?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Some things just happen I suppose."

"And you really know what you're doing?"

Fighting her laughter, Sam responded, holding her hand up in the Girl Scout salute. "I promise, I know how to cut hair. So do you want a free hair treatment or what?"

John looked at Sam wearily. "I suppose I could trust you . . ."

"John Grant, sometimes I swear you are the most annoying man I know."

"I'm kidding, Sam." His comment was similar to hers from earlier. "So, if this experiment were take place, when would that be?"

Sam glanced at her planner before responding, "How about tonight? You never know when a case will pop up."

"And you never know if he'll back out." George offered, not so helpfully for John, from behind his computer.

Sam laughed, glancing at where George sat with a grin on his face, but spoke to John. "So?"

After a moment, John nodded hesitantly. "Okay, tonight it is then. What time?"

Sam shrugged her shoulders. "How about seven? You can eat dinner with me and Chlo."

John replied as he stood. "Seven it is then, but right now I better go find those Burns case papers before Bailey hunts me down."

After John had disappeared from the break room, George peered around his computer at Sam. "Do you really know how to cut hair, Sam?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" She laughed, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation.

"Oh, I don't know," George said. "I just don't see that as something they teach you in med school."

With a mysterious smile, Sam stood. "You might be surprised just what you can learn in med school, George."

Watching her walk out of the briefing room, George laughed. "I'll bet."

***

"What's this I hear about you cutting John's hair?" Bailey asked, sticking his head in Sam's office some time after the meeting had ended.

Smiling, Sam looked up at the senior agent, motioning him toward a seat. "Why, what have you heard?"

Bailey grinned. "Just something from George about you offering to help John out. Although I believe John's word for it was scalping."

Tapping her pen on the desk, Sam smiled evilly. "I think I'll tell him I messed up just to scare him."

Watching Sam closely, Bailey asked, "I didn't realize that you and John were so close."

"Close?" Sam asked, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What do you mean? We've been friends for a while now."

"I know, this just sounded a little strange." He stood.

Sam placed her pen down, and folded her hands. "If living with Jack taught me anything, it was not to overlook the things I have right here, Bailey. Thanks to Jack I have a very few friends. John happens to be one of them."

Bailey nodded. "All right, Sam. I didn't mean for this to sound like an interrogation."

"No harm done," Sam responded.

Bailey stopped to stand in the doorway, and turned. "I'll let you get back to work."

"Thanks, Bailey." After he closed the door, she picked her pen back up and started rereading the profile she had been working on earlier.

***

"What was that all about, do you think?" Grace asked, able to see the interaction between Bailey and Sam from where she and George sat.

George shrugged his shoulders. "Looks like Bailey was getting a little protective again."

Grace nodded. "Yeah, but protect her from whom?"

"My guess?" George asked, glancing at the medical examiner. "That would be the man in the hideous orange shirt."

Grace smiled. "Maybe this time she doesn't need protecting."

"Yeah, well, the way I see it, it's like a father not wanting to let his daughter go out on a date with the fast talking boy down the street," George observed.

"And you think that Bailey is that father?" Grace asked, laughing. She paused, thinking for a moment. "You might have a point there."

Smirking, George crossed his arms. "I usually do."

Grace punched George lightly on the arm. "But I thought it was just a haircut."

"Maybe that's all it is," George observed dryly. "But I wouldn't hedge my bets if you know what I mean."

"It could be good for both of them," Grace commented. "I don't think Sam's been out with anyone since the prosecutor."

George laughed. "I can't remember the last time John went out with some one for more than one night."

"George, that's awful."

"Maybe, but it's true."

Grace laughed. "You're probably right." Before George could respond, she smiled, laying her hand on his shoulder. "Yes dear, you usually are."

During their conversation neither agent noticed Bailey walk up behind them. "Now I know we need a case." The two startled agents' gazes met his. "You've got nothing better to do than gossip about your coworkers."

"Come on, Bailey," George prodded. "Aren't you just a little bit curious?"

"I'm not in the habit of speculating about my agents, Georgie." Bailey cleared his throat.

Grace looked at Bailey skeptically. "But?"

Bailey grinned slyly. "But I think she doth protest too much."

"Wonder if she knows?" George asked.

Grace laughed. "I've known for months. Too bad I didn't mention it to her."

From where they stood, they could see Sam still sitting in her office and John working at his desk. After a moment, Bailey broke the silence. "I hate to break up this <>, but don't you two have actual work to do?"

"Gee, Dad, do I have to finish my homework before I go out and play?" George baited, grinning.

Bailey met his challenge. "Sorry, but it's that or go to bed without supper."

"On that note. . ." Grace laughed. "I think I'll leave before he tells me I can't go out on my hot date with Morgan tonight."

Bailey laughed. "Get to work you two."

***

Oblivious to his being watched, John was busy digging through his desk in search of his missing Burns case notes. He had put off trying to find them for most of the day, and was now in a rush to turn them in before it was time to leave.

Glancing at his watch, John was relieved to find out that he still had well over an hour to find the papers and turn them in to Bailey. On his desk sat most of the notes he could remember having, but he knew that one sheet was missing. He had almost given up finding it when he saw it tucked away in a lower drawer.

"Gotcha," he said with a triumphant grin as he pulled the sheet loose and stacked it with the others.

Smoothing out the papers as best he could, he placed them in a folder and walked to Bailey's office. After knocking on the door, he waited for Bailey to respond.

"Come in," the gruff voice called out.

Pushing the door open, John stuck his head inside the office. He then walked over to stand in front of Bailey's desk. "Here are the Burns case notes you wanted."

Taking the offered folder from John, Bailey managed to hide a smile. "And only two weeks too late." Glancing at the notes, he added, "I must say John, interesting work."

"I got the guy, didn't I?"

Bailey nodded. "And now maybe we can prosecute him."

John ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly. "It's not like the justice system is fast, either way, Bailey."

Seeing John fumble with his hair, Bailey's lecture was momentarily forgotten. "So? Ready to lose all of that hair?"

"What?" John asked, caught off guard by the change in topic.

"Oh, nothing."

John shook his head, replying sarcastically. "I'm nervous enough without your messing with my head, thanks."

"Don't worry, I'm sure she'll do fine." Bailey paused, "Besides, it will grow back."

John exhaled slowly. "Your confidence is overwhelming."

The senior agent glanced over the papers one last time. "This looks in order. It's pretty slow around here, why don't you go ahead and leave?"

John's surprise showed on his face. "You mean cut out early?"

"Why not." Bailey grinned. "After all, you've got a date."

"It's not a date," John said quickly as he walked out of the office.

After the door closed behind him, Bailey laughed. "Sure it's not."

***

Sam had just pulled a loaf of garlic bread out of the oven when the front door bell chimed. Placing the steaming bread down on the stove, she removed the oven mitt from her hand and went to answer the door.

When she opened the door, she smiled at John. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking somewhat lost. "Come in." She motioned into the house.

A relieved smile broke on John's face. "Thanks. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to bring anything." He glanced around the house. Ever since Sam had moved out of the firehouse, he had only been to see her once or twice. "Nice house."

"Thanks." Sam walked back into the kitchen. "What would you like to drink?"

"Whatever you've got is fine," he said, taking the chance to look around the tidy living room.

When Sam returned from the kitchen, she was carrying two glasses of iced tea. "Here you go," she said, handing John one of the glasses.

"So where's Chloe?" John asked, grinning. "I never picked her to be this quiet."

Sam laughed. "She's at a friend's house." She glanced at the clock. "In fact, they should be here anytime now."

John nodded, and took a drink of the tea. "So, you really want to cut my hair . . ." He risked a glance at Sam.

Recognizing the teasing glint in his eye, Sam managed a straight face. "You wanted the Michael Jordan look, right?"

John nearly choked on the tea he was drinking, and shook his head as he wiped tea from his chin. "You're cruel, do you know that?"

Sam laughed, but didn't respond because at that moment, Chloe rushed in the front door. "John!" she called out, running into the living room. "Mom said you were coming over!"

Sitting his glass down on a coaster, John smiled. "You got it kiddo. I had to come see my favorite girl, right?"

Chloe's laughter increased when John picked her up in a giant bear hug. While John was still holding Chloe, she reached over and ruffled his hair. "Yep, I'd say it's time for a trim." She giggled.

"I suppose you're right." John sighed dramatically. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he glanced sideways at Sam, who was walking back into the kitchen. "So, does your mom know what she's doing?" When Chloe nodded confidently, John grinned. "Then I suppose I'll let her cut my hair."

Sam, who had went into the kitchen to check on the spaghetti sauce, walked back into the living room in time to hear John's last comment. "I think I'll not ask what you two were talking about," she said, smiling.

Still giggling, Chloe said, "Just as well, you probably don't want to know."

"Oh, well then." Sam laughed. "It's just as well that you need to go and wash up for dinner, then."

"Aw, Mom," Chloe said, as John dropped her back onto her feet.

After Chloe had disappeared upstairs, John turned to Sam. "So, what's for dinner?"

"Spaghetti. You do like spaghetti, right?"

"Are you kidding?" he asked with a laugh. "I'm a bachelor. I'll eat anything as long as it's not green or moving on its own."

Sam shook her head, and commented dryly. "Then I guess the salad was a waste, huh?"

John flashed her a brilliant smile. "No salad is a waste if it has croutons."

"You are definitely a hard one to figure out." Sam laughed, shaking her head.

A moment later, they watched as Chloe hurried down the stairs.

As they were walking into the kitchen, John grinned. "Yeah, but it adds to the ol' Grant charm."

Placing the bread on the table and sitting down, Sam glanced at John. "So that's what you call it."

"Did you hear what she just said to me?" John looked to Chloe melodramatically, who laughed. He turned to look at Sam. "So are we going to eat, or are you going to insult me some more?"

Sam smiled at John's attempt at a serious face. Sam grinned. "Go for it big man, dig in."

***