Title: Tabula Rasa (This story is updated more frequently on a message board devoted to the pairing of John/Sam ( McBam ) called Caught in Your Embrace. The link is provided on my profile page if you are interested).

Rating: PG-13

Summary: It's been five years since Port Charles became a mob war zone amidst a federal investigation by FBI agent John McBain. Five years since John lost his wife and child to a car bomb that was meant for him. Five years since Sam lost her husband when Johnny Zacharra engineered the crash of Sonny's jet liner in route to Sonny's island. Five years since Sam entered protective custody to ensure the safety of herself and her child...

Chapter One

Monday came in a haze of blurred and bloodshot movement as John fought to untangle himself from the well worn hotel couch he'd passed out on the night before in an all too common state of inebriation. His head was pounding to the beat of his heart as his feet hit the floor in a shuffle of a stumble towards the half filled coffee pot on the desk next to his laptop.

He filled a hotel cup with the stale nectar and downed the cold brew with a bitter scowl before dropping into the seat before his laptop. A keystroke later and he was starring at box asking for his biometrics. John slid his right index finger over the reader and then pried open his right eye leaning in closer to the camera. The screen buzzed to life and bore a simple gray screen asking him for todays password.

John scratched at stubble that had grown through a weekend of off duty forgetfulness and peered at the phone expectantly. It rang a moment later and he quickly answered. "Foxtrot Tango Five Seven Delta Kilo Four Zero Oscar," came a computerized version of a voice over the line, the contents of which John quickly entered with his keyboard. There were few things in his life that he looked forward too, but every now again he got a chance to check in on old friends.

The screen flashed to video, full screen and John hitched in a breath, eyes glassing over as Samantha Morgan, alias unknown, stared at the screen with a smile a tiny little girls hand in her own as she helped her wave at the camera embedded in a similar laptop to his own. "Say hi to Grammy," Sam told her baby blue eyed daughter who sat in her lap, ringlets of mahogany locks falling all around her round face.

"Hi Grammy!" Sam's daughter squealed excitedly. John still didn't know the little girls name but he couldn't help but smile as soon as she lit the screen. The video wasn't live – it was a recording. A secure link to a message center for witnesses in protective custody to leave messages to their loved ones. The little girl was already squirming, wanting to get down so she could play with something off camera and Sam obliged a moment later after her daughter recanted that she was soon to start to kindergarten.

Sam's smile waned as her little girl headed off screen to play and she no longer had to keep up appearances. "I miss you so much," She whispered. John's smile dwindled as well and he gently rubbed his finger against the screen as though she could somehow feel his presence. That was an impossibility though, Sam didn't even know he watched the feed.

"You'd think that after five years, this would get easier..." She trailed off with a tight swallow, looking away from the camera a moment. "I love you Mom. Tell Krissy and Molly that I love them too." There were countless things unsaid – precious details that had to be lacking in order for the feed to even be a possibility. If Sam gave too many details about her new life than should the feed be intercepted she could be found. "Happy Fourth of July..."

John paused the video a split second after she made a reach for the camera to cut the feed, freezing the frame on her face. Sam was his only tie to a past that still haunted him every waking moment of every day...She had a piece of his soul tucked in her secret keeping, lost in the wide world – her image a hair's breath from his fingers, while she was still so ever far away for safe keeping.

WWW

Damian Spinelli jumped awake to a sound of metal bouncing off of metal inches from his head. He screamed out in alarm, both hands raising protectively to his ears as he skittered backwards away from the assault on his senses until his back hit the wet wall of his makeshift prison cell. "Get back to work," a rather burly man by the name of Landon growled out as he slid his laptop case across the floor to Spinelli's capable hands.

"Boss, wants the location by the end of the day or your girlfriend is dead."

"Hacking the U.S. Marshal service is going to take more time," Spinelli argued. "The Master of Evil must understand..."

Landon shut him up with a swift kick to the guts, then took the stunned hacker by the collar, pulling his boney body close to drive the point home with a snarl. "The only thing to understand is that if the Boss doesn't have Samantha Morgan's location by sunset, Maxie Jones is a dead woman."