Part Two

"If you would hold still, I wouldn't be as likely to scalp you." Sam had scissors in one hand, and forcing John to look forward with the other. "Then again, maybe you're hoping to score some pity at work if I mangle your curls here," she baited.

John looked ahead, but tried his best to try and see his reflection on the shiny refrigerator. He mumbled, "Cut it a little closer to my ear next time, will ya?"

"Baby. It was just a little nick," Sam said, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

John laughed. "It's a good thing you're not a practicing doctor. I can imagine what your bedside manner would be like."

"Only when I had to deal with patients like you," Sam observed dryly. "I'm sorry, sir. But that ear will have to come off." She taunted John while steadily trimming his hair.

"You tried, I'll give you that." John spoke dryly, although his grin betrayed his seriousness.

A moment later, Sam handed John a mirror. "Here, tell me what you think."

John took the mirror, and Sam stood back, waiting for whatever blunt observation would come out of his mouth next. Instead, John whistled softly. "Not bad. I'm impressed."

Taken aback by his comment, Sam laughed. "You're serious." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah," he said, still holding the mirror to see his hair. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Her smile fading, Sam replied. "When Tom and I first got married, I would cut his hair."

John turned, regretting the subdued look on Sam's face. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"That's okay," Sam said. She smiled faintly. "You should have see it the first time I tried. You think you were worried about scalping."

"That bad?" John asked, smiling softly.

Sam grinned and shook her head. "Worse."

Chloe, who had been upstairs doing homework, chose that moment to run into the room. "Can we watch a video now?"

"Have you finished your math?" Sam asked. When Chloe nodded, Sam glanced at John. "What do you say? Want to watch a movie?"

Chloe looked at John expectantly. "Who can say no to a face like that?" he asked with a grin, pointing at Chloe.

Sam laughed. "You two go argue over a movie and I'll clean up in here."

"Want me to help?" John asked, standing and removing the towel from around his neck.

Sam grinned. "You have enough of a battle ahead over what movie to watch. The two of you will probably still be arguing when I get in there."

John nodded. "See ya in a bit then." After speaking, he walked out of the kitchen. All the while, he was wondering where his last comment had come from. After all, he was only going into the next room. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he grinned when he spotted Chloe digging through a large video case.

"So what are we watching?" John asked, kneeling beside Chloe.

She pulled a box from the shelf, and held it up for John to see. "Little Women?" she asked almost shyly.

He heard Sam's laughter in the kitchen when he replied. "Why don't we see what else we can find in here?"

When Sam emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, she was surprised to see the two of them already sitting in front of the television. "So, what did you pick?"

"Little Women!" Chloe exclaimed.

Disbelievingly, Sam looked at John. "All I can say is that I wish I could be that stubborn in the interrogation room."

***

When the movie ended, Chloe was asleep and laying on the couch with her head on John's leg. As the credits were rolling, Sam smiled at John. "Was it as bad as you feared?"

John sighed. "Worse." A second later he laughed. "Nah, it wasn't that bad."

"Chloe's asleep, you don't have to play along." 

John shrugged. "It wasn't Steel Magnolias, that's a start."

Sam laughed quietly, and looked at Chloe. "I better put her to bed."

"Mind if I help?" John asked, surprising Sam.

She stood and replied. "Not at all. That way, I don't have to wake her up to get her into her room."

Carefully, John picked Chloe up and stood. Following Sam's lead, he carried Chloe up the stairs to her bedroom. Sam watched, surprised by the gentle manner he showed. Carrying her, putting her in bed, and then stepping back to let Sam tuck her in.

Chole's sleepy eyes opened just as Sam tucked the covers around her. She mumbled, "'Night, Mom. 'Night, John." A second later, she closed her eyes and was fast asleep.

"Good night, baby," Sam whispered, kissing her on the forehead.

From where he was standing, John whispered, "'Night, kiddo."

Quietly closing the door behind them, the two agents walked back downstairs to the living room. "I probably should be going." 

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it's getting late."

"It was kinda nice, just hanging out," John said, a shy quality in his voice.

Smiling, Sam nodded. "It's not something I get to do very often," she said. After a moment, she added, "But you're right, it was nice."

After an awkward silence, John walked to the door, pausing in the doorway. "So I'll see you at work tomorrow." 

Nodding, Sam agreed. "See you in the morning. Be careful driving home."

John nodded, "I will. 'Night, Sam." Turning, he walked to where his car was parked.

"Good night," Sam said to his retreating back.

After his car pulled out of the driveway, Sam closed and locked the door. Leaning on the wooden object for a moment, she sighed. There was something tickling at the back of her mind, she just couldn't quite put her finger on it yet.

***

The next day at work, John arrived a bit earlier than usual, hoping to speak with Sam. However, he was intercepted by Bailey.

"We've been called in on a case by the Jacksonville PD," Bailey said when he saw John. "We leave for Hartsfield in twenty minutes."

John nodded. "I'll be ready." He turned and walked to his desk. Grabbing his notepad from a desk drawer, John looked up to see Sam in her office. 

Pushing the drawer closed, he walked up the short flight of stairs to Sam's office. Knocking on the door, he stuck his head inside. "Morning."

Sam glanced up from where she was sorting through some papers. "Good morning."

"Any idea what's up in Jacksonville?" he asked, walking inside the office.

Sam shook her head, "Just the little Bailey told me. The briefing will be on the plane." Standing, Sam placed the papers into her attache case. "Are you ready to go?"

"Whenever you are." He held the door open.

Sam tilted her head to the side, and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. She looked at John. "I was hoping we'd get a chance to talk," she said, her voice low. 

John nodded. There was a feeling of hope in his heart that he couldn't quite explain. However, all he said was, "Me too."

Sam's eyes met John's, but instead of saying anything, she merely nodded her head and walked out of the office. Following close behind her, John pulled the door closed and they walked to the parking deck together.

From where he was sitting, downloading several files to take with them, George saw Sam and John leave. He chuckled. "There's definitely something going on there."

***

"The latest victim is a thirty-three year old Caucasian male." Bailey, having waited until they were airborne, began the briefing. "George, do you have the images JPD sent us?"

George nodded. "Sure thing, just a sec." After a moment's pause, and the sound of his fingers clicking on the keyboard, George gestured to a small screen. "There you go."

The first of several crime scene photos flashed on the small screen. "Thoughts?" Bailey asked, after they had finished viewing what evidence they had so far.

"He was overpowered," Sam observed. "But not necessarily by someone stronger than himself."

John nodded. "So we're looking for a woman."

Sam shook her head. "Maybe not, but I want to wait till Grace can look at the victims."

From where she sat scanning over her information, Grace said, "That will be harder than it sounds. The murders were stretched out of such a long period of time that they released the first two bodies for burial."

"Do we at least have the local examiner's reports?" Bailey asked.

Grace nodded. "And the latest victim is still in the morgue. Apparently, they just connected the three together."

"This is Captain Lewis," the pilot's voice echoed over the intercom, interrupting their discussion. "We'll be landing shortly, please take your seats."

"Let's get this show on the road," John commented as they began the descent into Jacksonville.

***

"He was struck with a blunt object from behind." Grace dropped a manila folder onto the table in front of Sam and Bailey. "If I were to guess, I'd say his attacker was at least the same height, if not a little taller."

They were working in the Jacksonville Police Department building while they stayed in town. For the moment, the investigation was progressing rather slowly.

"That's it," Sam said after listening to Grace.

Bailey looked up at Sam. "What's it, Sammy?"

Sam motioned toward the report. "It's not a woman. At least it's not very likely. Richard Blair was six feet tall."

"And his killer would have to be at least six feet," Bailey continued. "So you think the killer is a man?"

Standing, Sam began to pace in the small room. "It would make sense. Textbook case of the boy who was always picked on lashing out at the bully." Sam paused, lost in thought. 

She turned to George. "George, can you get on the personal records for the three victims? Including back to high school?"

The computer tech nodded, typing a few commands into the computer. "It might take a little while, but I can do it. What do you think I'll find?"

Sam shook her head, lost in thought. "I'm not sure exactly, but some type of connection. Someone willing to hold a grudge for a long time."

"I'll see what I can find," George said, already focused on the computer in front of him.

After a moment, Grace asked, "What did the local detectives say?"

"John's talking with them now," Bailey offered. "We'll know more when he gets back."

John walked into the conference room. "Don't count on it."

Bailey waited until John sat down before replying. "They couldn't tell you anything, John?"

"Nothing very helpful." John thumbed through his notes. "They're still dumbstruck the cases are connected." Glancing at the few notes he had scribbled down, he added, "And they are completely stuck."

Bailey let out a long breath. "Then let's get to work."

***

Several long hours later, the team was on their way back to Atlanta. It had been agreed that they would work from Atlanta, and if another victim was discovered, return to Jacksonville to examine the crime scene.

It was two days later while going over what information that had been gathered that George slapped his hand on the briefing room table. "I think I've got something here."

Bailey stood, and walked over to stand behind George. "Tell me it's something good, Georgie." He placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"What is it George?" Sam asked, putting the profile she had been focused on down on the table.

After a few more key strokes, George displayed some of the data on the large screen. "I had to go a little further back than we originally planned, but I found a connection." A few seconds later an old team basketball photo appeared on the monitor next to the text. "All three victims not only attended the same middle school, but played together on the same basketball team."

"Good work, George," Bailey said.

Sam walked closer to the monitor, studying the faces closely. "So if this is their connection, who would want to kill them?"

John, who had been sitting silently at the table listening to the conversation, tilted his head to the side. "My money is on the team manager."

Sam turned to look at John. "Why do you say that?"

"Look at him," the younger agent said. John walked over to where Sam was standing. "Tall, really thin. He looks like the type who would want to play and be accepted, but wasn't. So instead he helped manage the team."

"Close but not quite, huh, John?" Bailey asked, nodding in agreement.

Sam looked skeptical. "I agree with the motive, it just seems a little too obvious."

"Right now it's all we have, Sam," Bailey noted. "George, see what you can find out about. . ." Bailey paused, reading the listing of names below the photo. "Carlton Mathers."

***

While George was busy researching Carlton Mathers, Sam retreated into her office to look over the profile she had been piecing together. Several minutes passed before she was interrupted by a knock on her office door. When she looked up, John was standing in the doorway.

"Can I come in?" John asked, almost tentatively.

Sam nodded, and waved her hand. "Sure. What up?"

John shrugged, trying to act casual. "Nothing really. We just haven't had much of a chance to talk since the other night."

Smiling faintly, Sam tilted her head in agreement. She found herself relieved that John seemed to be thinking along the same lines she was. "You're right. This case has kept us rather busy the past few days."

"So I was wondering if you and Chloe would like to go to a movie, or something," John asked, sitting on the corner of Sam's desk. He smiled and touched his hair. "Sort of as a thanks for the haircut."

Sam thought for a minute and smiled. "I think Chloe would love it."

"And Chloe's mom? What would she think?"

Before Sam could answer, Bailey knocked on the door and walked into Sam's office. Although he noticed the quiet way Sam and John were speaking, he ignored it. "We have him."

"So soon?" John asked.

Bailey nodded. "George just pulled up Mathers' records. He fits the profile. Now someone has to go back to Jacksonville and check into his recent activity."

John stood. "I'll go."

Nodding in agreement, Bailey replied. "We leave in ten minutes."

"I'll meet you in the parking deck." After john spoke, Bailey left Sam's office to go and make arrangements for the trip to Jacksonville.

A moment later, John turned to look at Sam. "Looks like you were right."

"About what?" John asked, confused.

"About Carlton Mathers." 

"Well," John said, shrugging his shoulders. "Playing varsity ball in high school teaches you things. Like how some things never change. The popular guys will always single out the guys who don't quite fit in."

"Sad, isn't it?" Sam asked, looking down somberly at the papers on her desk. When John didn't reply, she looked at him. "Before you leave, Chloe's mom would be happy to go and see a movie." With that, the hint of a smile returned to her face.

John's eyes lit up with the grin that filled his features. "Great. We'll figure out a time when I get back from Florida."

"If it's not too late, give me a call and we'll talk about it then," Sam offered.

Although surprised, John nodded. "Will do." Still smiling, he turned and walked out the office door.

She watched John walk away before she let out a long breath. Sam couldn't help but wonder why it felt like something was changing.

***

John checked the number on the apartment door with the address he had scribbled in his notepad and reached up to knock. John and Bailey had arrived in Jacksonville, and after a little leg work, discovered that Mathers had been seen near at least one of the crime scenes.

Knocking on the door, John stood back, waiting for Mathers to answer. A moment later, a thin middle aged man opened the door. When he saw the two men, and recognized Bailey's drawn badge, Mathers tried to slam the door shut and make a run for it.

Jamming his foot in the door, John raced into the apartment after the suspect. "Carlton Mathers," John called out. "We just want to talk to you."

Mathers made no effort to respond, and disappeared through a back window. Reaching the window, John looked out to see the suspect quickly descending the fire escape.

Continuing the chase, John caught up with Mathers just after he reached the ground. He called out, "Stop right there."

Instead of stopping, the fleeing man glanced back over his shoulder and redoubled his speed. In a last attempt to catch him, John landed a flying tackle, dropping the man to the ground just as Bailey rushed around the corner.

When Bailey reached them, John was struggling to handcuff the protesting man. "What do you think you're doing, big shot? Huh?"

John pulled the man to his feet. "We tried to question you, you ran. When I asked you to stop, you ran faster. Something tells me you have something to hide, Mr. Mathers."

"All you jocks are alike." The now subdued man muttered at John under his breath.

After cuffing the man's wrists behind his back, John raised a hesitant hand to his left eye. "Looks like he got you," Bailey noted.

John cracked a half-grin, "Just a lucky elbow shot."

"Come on," Bailey said. "The car is right around here. Let's take him in for questioning."

***

Pulling up into a parking spot, Bailey looked over at John. "You've been messing with your eye all day, when are you going to give up and do something about it?"

John sighed. It had been hours since they apprehended Mathers in the alley behind his apartment building. After taking him back to the local police headquarters, it hadn't taken long for John's interrogation to break through his ego. Just before eight that night, with the bureaucracy behind them, Bailey and John boarded the plane for Atlanta.

"There's not much I can do for it," John commented. "But I'll ice it down when I get home."

Bailey nodded. "There's your car, why don't you head on out?"

Too tired to argue, John nodded in agreement. "See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, John," Bailey said, watching as John climbed out of the car.

Getting into his car, John put the key in the ignition and the sports car roared to life. Blinking carefully, he pulled out of the parking deck and onto the street. John drove home slowly, cautious of his constantly watering left eye.

Finally at his apartment, John was glad to be home. Unlocking the door, he walked inside, and soon after re-locking it behind him, dropped onto the couch. A little while later, he sat up and pulled off his tie. Standing, he walked into the kitchen and made an ice pack out of an old dish towel.

He was dozing on the couch when the phone ringing jostled him from sleep. Reaching out blindly for the cordless phone that sat on the coffee table, he punched the power button.

"Grant."

"How are you feeling?" Sam's voice asked through the phone.

John sat up straighter, somewhat confused. "Sam? I thought I was supposed to call you." He hesitated. "Not that I mind. Wait," he paused again, "how did you know I was hurt?"

"Bailey called me," Sam admitted.

"Huh. I wonder why he called you?"

John could picture Sam shrugging as she replied. "I don't know either. He just said that you took a pretty hard hit to the face."

"I've been hit worse," John said, now leaning back against the couch.

Sam laughed softly. "I know, I was there. As I recall, I was against that fight from the beginning."

John protested. "This wasn't a fight." 

"I know," Sam agreed, her voice soft.

John sighed. "And last time I did what had to be done. We had no other way of busting up those fights."

Sam relented. "Possibly, but we'll never know."

Wanting to change the subject, John asked, "So, how about that movie?"

Sam laughed as she responded. "You sound so eager. How do you know you won't be forced to endure another chick-flick?"

"Because Chloe is too young for the chick-flicks that really creep me out." John tried to joke.

Sam thought for a minute. "How does Thursday night sound?"

"Two days . . ." John said, thinking aloud. "Sounds about right. That will give my eye some time to tone down a bit." He laughed. "When I looked in the rearview mirror in the car, I thought Tammy Faye Baker was looking back at me."

"Ouch." Sam laughed. "That pretty, huh?"

John grinned. "You know, Sam, on you sarcasm just really isn't that attractive of a quality."

"Well, I'm learning from the best, aren't I?" 

"And on that positive note," John laughed as he spoke. "I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Want me to bring some concealer for you eye?" Sam asked, not managing to hide her mirth.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Offering me make-up," he muttered jokingly.

Sam smiled. "Good night, John."

"'Night, Sam," John said. "And thanks."

"For what?" she asked, her voice quiet.

John shrugged, knowing she couldn't see the gesture. "I don't know. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye." She hung up the phone.

Pressing the off button on the phone, John sat it back down on the table and leaned back into the couch. "No use getting your hopes up, Grant," he mumbled to himself. "She was just concerned about a friend. Nothing more." But it was the more part that he couldn't help thinking about as he slowly fell asleep.

***

At work the next morning, Sam couldn't help but glance up every few minutes waiting for John to arrive. Characteristically, John walked in a few minutes before he had to be there. When she saw him walk to his desk and sit down, Sam stood and met him there.

She leaned against the desk's edge, smiling. "Well," she said, looking at his eyes, "I wouldn't go as far to say Tammy Faye. But Bozo better watch out, his make-up has nothing on you."

John met her humor with his own. "Well, at least I have an excuse. Those two are beyond hope."

Sam smiled, touching the edge of the bruise hesitantly. "How does it feel?"

He froze at the soft touch, not daring to move. "It's tender, but not as sore as last night." He answered honestly, his voice low. For a reason he couldn't explain he didn't want to resort to his usual witty retort.

Sam dropped her hand, the moment over. "I've got a paper if you want to pick the movie for tomorrow night." Sam handed John the folded Journal-Constitution. "Just keep in mind that Chloe isn't as grown up as she'd like to think," she added with a laugh.

Without looking at the paper, John asked, "How many times has she seen the latest Star Wars movie?"

Sam sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "More than once."

"And how about you?" John continued.

Dropping her hand, she grinned wearily. "I haven't."

"That's what I figured." He stood and looked down at Sam. "Up for a little adventure a long time ago?"

Sam laughed. "Somehow I knew I wouldn't be able to avoid this. Although I've done pretty good so far."

Resting a friendly elbow on her shoulder, John leaned over and whispered. "Come now, Sam. It's culture!"

"Not quite the word I would use," she retorted. "But alright. This movie is your choice, after all, you had to watch Little Women."

"Good, it's settled then," John said proudly. "How's the eight o'clock showing sound?" When Sam merely nodded, he added, "Then I'll pick you two ladies up at seven thirty."

***

It was late Wednesday afternoon when Grace walked into Sam's office and closed the door behind her. "So, how long were you going to wait before telling me that you and John were going out on a date?"

Sam looked up from what she had been reading with a confused half-grin on her face. "What are you talking about, Grace?"

Sitting down on the couch, Grace laughed. "Don't try and play innocent. You two are going out tomorrow night. To see Star Wars if George is right."

Laughing, Sam shook her head. "Do I dare ask how George knows?"

"You know how people talk," Grace said with a wave of her hand. "So, you're going to the movies . . ." she prompted.

Brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, Sam shook her head. "We're going to the movies, but it's not a date. It's a thank you."

"Call it what you want, Sam. It's a date."

"Grace," Sam protested.

Smiling, Grace interrupted. "And about time too, I might add."

Sam's shock showed on her face. "Excuse me?"

Grace stood up, and walked around to sit on the edge of Sam's desk. "Don't tell me there's nothing going on between you two. We've all seen it."

"There's nothing going on, Grace," Sam argued. "I promise."

The medical examiner looked at Sam disbelievingly. "I don't know . . ."

"We're just friends," Sam reiterated.

Standing up, Grace rested her hands on her hips. "Okay, whatever you say." She grinned, adding, "But enjoy the movie."

Sam laughed. "Would you go look at dead people, or whatever it is you do to pass all this free time we have all of a sudden."

"I'm going, I'm going." She laughed, closing Sam's office door shut behind her.

Seeing George standing not far away, Grace walked over to him. "Well?" George asked.

"It's time to wait for them to figure out what we've already noticed," she observed.

George rolled his eyes. "Great, those two are stubborn enough that this could take forever."

"No kidding." Grace smiled, walking toward the elevator.

***

"Who is it?" Chloe called out after hearing the doorbell ring.

"It's John, Chlo."

Grinning, Chloe pulled the door open and looked up at the man standing outside. "Wow," she said in awe, "You really do look like a one-eyed raccoon."

"Oh I do, do I?" John asked, picking Chloe up and carrying her over his shoulder inside the house. "I'll have you know that one-eyed raccoons are very popular."

Laughing, Chloe didn't respond until he dropped her on her backside onto the couch. "I'll bet that's what they all say."

"So, where's your mom, kiddo?" John asked, sitting on the couch next to Chloe. "It's time to go if we're gonna make the eight o'clock."

Chloe giggled, and leaned over and whispered conspiratorially into John's ear. "Don't tell her that. She'll try to stall us!"

"You've got a point there." John laughed. "What do you say we go find her?"

Sam, walking into the living room, held up her hands. "I surrender."

"Mooom," Chloe said, still giggling.

Smiling, Sam walked over to the couch. "Ready to go?"

"Just waiting on you," John grinned.

Sam picked up her purse. "Then let's go, already."

***

"Chloe sure has gotten awful quiet back there," John observed while driving back to Sam's after the movie let out.

Sam smiled and glanced at Chloe who was sleeping in the back seat. "She was so excited about the movie, I think she wore herself out."

"And what did you think?" John asked with a grin, glancing momentarily over at Sam. When Sam didn't respond, John continued speaking, his eyes never leaving the road. "I thought so."

"I liked it, okay?" Sam said in mock exacerbation. "You'd think you were interrogating me."

John smiled. "I'd never interrogate you."

Instead of responding, Sam took the opportunity to look over at John. He was carefully guiding the car through the Atlanta suburbs. Sam used the quiet, trying to decide what to think, but the drive was short and they soon reached the house.

"Do you want me to carry her in?" John asked, pointing at the sleeping Chloe.

Sam glanced back at Chloe. "I'd be grateful for the help."

Once inside, John carried Chloe up to her bedroom and waited outside in the hallway while Sam managed to get her changed into her pajamas. He was looking at a painting on the wall when Sam stuck her head into the hallway. "She wants to say goodnight."

John walked into Chloe's room, and kneeled down next to her bed. "'Night, John," she said sleepily. "Thanks for the movie."

"Anytime, kiddo," John said, smiling. "It was my pleasure."

"Good night, Chlo," Sam said, leaning down to kiss Chloe on the forehead. "Sweet dreams."

They pulled the door shut behind them, much as they had several nights before. They were quiet; each lost in their own thoughts until they reached the front door.

"Would you like some coffee?" Sam asked, not ready for John to leave.

John shook his head. "No thanks." He paused, sinking his hands into his pockets. "Thanks for the fun night."

Sam laughed. The sound, to John, rang with a musical quality. "I should be thanking you. It was your idea."

"Ah, well, it beat a Thursday night alone with take-out." They stood there for a moment, neither speaking. "Sam, I . . ."

Whatever he was about to say was cut off when the distance between them, which had been shrinking steadily the longer they spoke, disappeared completely. John leaned his head down, and Sam's lips met his own.

A shy kiss, Sam slowly wrapped her arms around John's neck. A few minutes later, John broke away from the contact. He ran a hand absent-mindedly through his hair. "Sam, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have . . ."

Sam shook her head, still reeling from the emotion packed into the innocent kiss. "No, I'm sorry. It's my fault."

John shook his head, not understanding. Instead, when he saw a confusion filtering in her eyes similar to how he felt, he merely nodded. "I better go."

Sam finally remembered to breathe. "Yeah. Good night."

"'Night, Sam," he said, and walked to his car. 

Once he was on the road, John couldn't help but replay in his mind what had just happened. The night had been so similar to the last evening they had spent together. It was the end that was drastically different. He feared the risk of pushing Sam away as a friend far more than losing any chance of that something more between them.

He had just closed his apartment door behind him, still confused, when the telephone rang. He picked it up wearily. "Hello?"

"I'm not sorry." Sam's voice said simply.

A moment later, John's shock faded. "You shouldn't be. It was my fault."

"That's not what I meant." She was pacing aimlessly around the living room. "I'm not sorry it happened, I'm just not sure what it means."

John sat down on the sofa, thinking I know what I wish it meant, but aloud he said, "I know, Sam."

"What about breakfast tomorrow?" Sam asked, wrapping the phone cord around her finger.

John nodded, although he knew she couldn't see. "Sounds good. Why don't you come here before work?"

"All right," Sam replied. After a moment's thought, she laughed. "Should I bring anything?"

John smiled. "Just yourself will suffice. I can manage to cook breakfast."

Sam smiled, her laughter fading. "You're sure?"

"Yes, Sam. Now good night."

"See you in the morning," Sam said, and hung up the telephone. Although still confused by what had happened, she felt better after talking to John. A few minutes later, she walked upstairs and got ready for bed.

John, however, was silently thanking the fact that there was a twenty-four hour grocery store in his neighborhood. Pulling into the deserted lot, he rushed inside the harshly lit store and quickly gathered everything he would need to fix breakfast.

The clerk at the check-out counter looked at him oddly, but didn't comment on the assortment of eggs, coffee, milk, bagels and yogurt. Before long, John was back at his apartment storing all of his purchase in the refrigerator.

***

Early the next morning, Sam knocked on John's door. Silently she hoped that he was at least already awake. She knew that he was not exactly a morning person.

Sam was quite surprised when John pulled the door open. He was dressed for work, with a spatula in one hand and a dishtowel over one shoulder. "Come in," he said, standing aside so she could enter. Seeing the look on her face, he laughed. "You didn't think I'd be awake, did you?"

"Well, I must admit," she said. "I've seen you at work first thing in the morning. It doesn't lead to much optimism."

John grinned, a twinkle in his eye as he took Sam's jacket before walking back into the kitchen. "Well, my cooking may surprise you too, then."

Sam followed John into the kitchen, and was assaulted by the aroma of coffee that filled the room. "Coffee?" John asked, handing her a cup.

"Thanks," she said, taking a sip of the warm liquid. "So, what's for breakfast?"

John replied with his back turned to Sam. "An assortment." He turned, and slid a heap of scrambled eggs onto a plate. "Scrambled eggs, bagels and yogurt." He paused, glancing at Sam's surprised face. "I wasn't sure what you liked. I've only seen you eat bagels when we were on cases."

Sam laughed. "When did you go to the store?"

"What?" John asked, dropping the dishtowel onto the counter. "Why do you think I didn't have this already?" The disbelieving look that Sam cast at John caused his facade of seriousness to crumble. "Okay, sometime before midnight."

"You shouldn't have . . ." Sam began to say.

Pulling out a seat for Sam, John shook his head. "Sure I should have."

The conversation during breakfast was light, and neither mentioned what had happened the night before. They both, however, had trouble not thinking about it.

"Done?" John asked, and when Sam nodded, he reached over to take her plate. Rising from his chair, he turned and put the dish in the sink.

"Let me help you," Sam said, standing.

John didn't see Sam stand; when he turned around, he bumped into her. Pushed off balance, Sam lost her balance, falling right into John's arms.

For the moment, neither one spoke, each content to stare into the other's eyes. "Sam," John managed to whisper right before their lips met in another kiss.

Unlike the kiss the night before, which had been shy and innocent, the kiss intensified, becoming deeper and more urgent, until they broke apart.

More confused than ever, John asked, "Sam?"

Sam searched John's gaze. "We don't know what we're doing."

A grin formed on John's face. "Good, because if we did, I'd be worried."

Instead of replying, Sam wrapped her arms around John's neck, and kissed him again. When it ended, Sam let out a long breath. "We should probably go to work."

"Probably." John grinned. "George and Grace have enough ideas as it is."

Sam's face broke into a smile. "Yeah, they knew something was up before we did."

"And what is up?" John asked, suddenly insecure with the entire situation. He knew it could too easily go wrong.

Sam smiled softly, their arms still wrapped around one another. "Something good, I think."