InsaneJournal

Current mood:	okay
Current music:	House
Entry tags:	character: john grant, character: sam waters, fandom: profiler, pairing: john/sam, title: for the best

For the Best
Title: For the Best
Fandom: Profiler
Prompt: Love Gone Wrong
Characters: John Grant, Sam Waters
Pairing: John/Sam
Word Count: 1822
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Profiler or the characters within; NBC does, and they are big ol' meanies for canceling the show in the middle of a plotline!
Summary: Sam and John become involved, but Sam is afraid Jack will find out.


I can't do it anymore.

Sam stared out the window of the hotel room, hugging herself. Her troubled thoughts would not allow her rest. She glanced at the man sleeping peacefully on the bed. John was oblivious to her turmoil, and while she could easily wake him to share her distress, she could not -- would not -- talk to him about this. He wouldn't understand.

They'd been seeing each other for months now, ever since a late night pouring over a case at the VCTF. Everyone else had gone home for the night, but Sam was too agitated about not being to figure this criminal out to stop just yet. John had offered her what was leftover from his lunch when she'd complained of being hungry; she'd teased him about it being Chinese, of course. When she'd winced and rubbed her aching neck as she bent over pictures of the crime scene, he'd moved behind her and started to massage her sore muscles with his strong hands. "You should go home and get some rest, Sam," he said.

"Not yet," she murmured, enjoying his touch and leaning back against him. "I'm so close. I feel like there's something right here in front of me; I just can't grasp it."

The irony of her words didn't hit her immediately, but they did him. He moved around beside her and caught her face in his hand, turning her head as he impulsively kissed her. He drew back just as suddenly. "Sam...I'm sorry...." he stammered.

She rose without a word and headed to her office. He followed, still apologizing. When he stepped into her office, she shut the door then pushed him up against it, kissing him passionately. He was astonished for a brief moment, then returned her kisses with enthusiasm. That did not surprise her -- she'd long known that John was attracted to her. His kisses when they'd pretended to be involved to lure Jack out into the open had been real, as was his jealousy of Coop. No, what surprised her was her own aggressiveness as she yanked off his tie and pulled his shirt open. Since Coop had died she hadn't been with anyone, and John's nearness this evening had brought her longing for human contact bubbling to the surface. Maybe that was why she couldn't focus on the case. The raw need that filled her was too distracting.

"You have a couch," he said with wicked delight, and she nodded, letting him guide them towards it. He sat down and she straddled him, praying to god that the cleaning crew wouldn't choose this particular moment to tidy up her office. The blinds were closed, at least, and there was no camera in here. Since Jack had compromised the VCTF computer system, she'd refused to allow a camera in her office. Her home was filled with monitoring cameras, and she wanted once place, just one, where she could have some privacy.

"God, Sam, you're beautiful," he said thickly as lips moved over her throat, then crushed against hers. She was glad she'd worn a skirt today -- made things easier as he hiked it over her hips. What the hell are you doing, Sam? a small part of her wondered, but she ignored it and lost herself in the passion of the moment.

Afterwards they sat, panting and entwined. She rested her head against him, idly tracing the scar left by the bullet that had gone through his right shoulder. He moved one hand beneath her chin and lifted her head. "Sam...." he began huskily.

"Shhhh," she said, putting a finger to his lips. She stood and pulled down her skirt and buttoned her blouse, averting her eyes from the confused look on his face as she hurried from her office, running away for home. In the few seconds it took for him to yank up his pants and follow, she was gone.

I don't want to be stronger. I can't do it anymore.

For the next week she avoided him. She didn't need her years of training as a profiler to see his frustration building as she dodged any attempt he made to speak to her alone. She tried to tell herself she had just used him for a moment's gratification, and undoubtedly he had done the same to more than one woman in his own romantic history. Such thoughts did nothing to alleviate her guilt, however. When he finally did corner her, her carefully rehearsed words to rebuff him failed. She tried to lie and tell him she really wasn't attracted to him and that it was a one time thing, but he saw right through her. "Don't run away from this, Sam," he said.

"I can't," she'd still protested feebly. "John, I'm sorry...I just can't."

"Is this about Coop?" he'd said. "Or Tom? Sam...you know they wouldn't want you to spend your life mourning. You need to move on. And if it's not going to be with me, that's fine, but I think what happened between us meant something."

"It...it was a mistake," she told him. "I can't...we shouldn't...." Then he pulled her into his arms, and then she knew exactly what it meant in the romance novels she'd read in high school when the heroines melted as he kissed her.

They'd kept things quiet at her instance. She'd made excuses about not wanting to hurt Angel, or how fraternizing between colleagues was frowned on by the FBI. Eventually he realized it wasn't Tom or Coop who stood between them, but another man -- Jack. The serial killer had already taken Tom from her, then Coop, and she wasn't about to let him take John, too. John wasn't afraid of Jack -- he'd put his life on the line once before to trap him, after all -- and the thought of that near miss still gave Sam nightmares. But he'd accepted her desire for secrecy and focused on the thrill inherent with "sneaking around," leading to one almost embarrassing incident when they'd thought everyone had gone home for the night. Bailey had knocked on her office door, and she'd breathlessly told him to come in after frantically pulling her shirt on and hiding John under her desk. ("Are you all right? You look flushed," Bailey had said, concerned, as she struggled to maintain her composure while John mischievously tickled her feet and stroked her legs.) They'd shared a giggle when he'd gone, then John had suggested they stop the office rendezvous and go to her place instead. She'd used the cameras in her home as an excuse (not the sort of thing she wanted captured on video, of course) and invoked Angel again. Even though Angel and John had split up quite some time before, she didn't want to flaunt the relationship in front of her friend. Naturally he suggested they go to his own apartment instead, and unspoken in her protest was Jack's name. If he saw them together...going into John's apartment....

It became the first of several fights. "Dammit, Sam, I want to spend an entire night with you for a change. I want to wake up with you," he told her. Finally she relented and they'd booked a hotel room. She told Angel and Chloe she was out of town working on a case, a convenient excuse that worked each time. Over the weeks that followed they spent many loving nights together, but never the same hotel twice, and always arriving and leaving separately.

Eventually John grew weary of this, too. She understood his frustration and desire to be open about their relationship -- he was a man, after all, who liked to flaunt what was his. But she couldn't risk him. Couldn't lose him. Not again.

"You did not kill Coop."
"No. I just provided the list."

Her tears would stop the fight. She knew it, and she did it purposefully. The minute she began to cry John would apologize for pressuring her, and she would agree to think about revealing their relationship to their friends. But she never did. Once one person found out, the chances of someone making a slip doubled. Bailey or Grace or George would never purposely jeopardize John's life, but all it would take was one mistake, and Jack was always watching. The paranoia gnawed at her, and sometimes in the middle of the night she would wake from dreams of blood and death and cling to John as if he would disappear if she closed her eyes again.

He'd proposed to her this night. Stunned and momentarily caught up in fantasies of a normal life -- sometimes she did dream of being married to John, raising Chloe in a home that wasn't a prison, maybe even another child -- she'd said yes before she could stop herself. He'd put the diamond on her finger, and they'd spent the night making love. And now he slept, and she paced, twisting the ring on her finger. They couldn't hide this any longer. Jack would be furious, and this gold band would condemn John to death. Tom's death had been quick; Coop had suffered. She knew Jack would make John endure even more pain as Jack tried to show her that she belonged to him, not any other man. Each lesson was a harder one. When would she learn?

She couldn't do it. She couldn't risk his life. And she couldn't keep on risking the lives of those around her. Anyone she cared about -- her friends, Bailey, Angel, even Chloe -- was in danger. As long as Jack was free, he would prey on those close to her, and she couldn't bear that guilt any longer. She wouldn't be responsible for another death.

She quietly dressed, then hastily scribbled two words on a piece of hotel stationary: "I'm sorry." Setting the paper down on the nightstand, and she hesitated for a moment, looking down at John, then took off the ring and placed it on top of the note. A final gentle kiss upon his lips, and she fled.

She had nothing but her purse and the clothes she wore now, but it was enough. She knew she was a coward, running away like this, and abandoning those she loved tore at her heart, but this was for their own good. Where she went, Jack would follow, and they would be safe from him. She would have to stay one step ahead of Jack, keep him chasing her, and two steps ahead of John and her friends. John would no sooner let her go than Jack would, and he would use all the resources of the FBI to track her down. She wouldn't let him. She would keep Jack away from him, from all of them. This would devastate him, but maybe one day he would realize that she did this to protect him. It was for the best.

X-posted to profiler_fans (here)