Ever On

She was drowning in the sensations. Her body felt like it was on fire. The feel of this man's body pressed against her own, his hands holding hers above her head and his lips kissing hers was so intense and yet familiar. When he pulled his lips from hers and moved to nuzzle her neck, she couldn't bite back the sharp gasp of pleasure. The low moan from his throat told her he felt the intensity of this pleasure as much as her. She revelled in being able to make him feel as much as she was. She was lost to him and she only knew his name. She was making out with a complete stranger in an elevator in a building that was on fire and for the first time in her life, Sam could have cared less what anyone thought.

Reason had fled the moment their lips had touched. He couldn't understand the hold this woman had over him. He only knew her name, and yet, he was lost to her. The alarms faded to nothing, the world contracted to just this woman in his arms, with her body pressed against his. He broke off the kiss and moved to nuzzle her neck. He knew without a doubt that she loved the feeling and it would drive her over the edge. The moment she gasped in pleasure, he moaned in unrestrained response. He wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into her neck and drive them both beyond anything either of them had felt before. On the edge of reason, a thought came. It was unbidden, inexplicable, but he knew it was right. He was with a Cassadine woman again. He revelled in the thought before the shock of it overtook him.

Suddenly, Sam found herself leaning weakly against the elevator wall, bereft of all contact with him. He had moved across the elevator from her so quickly she was shocked by his speed. He was breathing heavily just like her, his head against the elevator doors and his eyes closed. When he turned to look at her, the shock in his eyes was a mirror image of her own.

With an effort and grimace, John tried to steady his breathing and his voice. "I'm sorry. I have no idea how that just happened."

Sam looked back at him in shock. That feeling of knowing him intimately came back to her. She took a deep breath to clear her thoughts and steady herself. "Me either."

It took everything he had not to reach out and pull her back against him, to lose himself in her again. He didn't understand where these sudden feelings had come from. They made no sense.

The banging on the elevator doors combined with a loud male voice demanding to know if anyone was in the elevator brought them both back to reality. They began yelling out, only to be told that they would be rescued soon. While Sam felt relief at the response, she was also somewhat disappointed that her time with John would end soon. She couldn't put her finger on what made her want to stay near this man, and she felt a little lonelier without his attention on her.

As they waited patiently to be rescued, John pondered his unbidden thought from earlier. He knew of Helena Cassadine and her corrupt family. They were legendary criminals in the FBI organized crime world he had come from. Stealing a quick glance at Sam, he had to admit she had the same dark looks and haunted eyes as Helena's grandson Nikolas Cassadine. What difference her being a Cassadine could possibly make to him, he had no idea. The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. As the elevator doors started to slowly open, he shelved those thoughts to concentrate on helping get the two of them out of the elevator.

When the doors were opened enough he helped Sam through them, careful to keep his touch proper and professional. He crawled out of the elevator himself, and they were both rushed out of the building to a waiting ambulance crew. He had no time to talk to her privately before they were both surrounded by other people and he lost her in the crowd.

John couldn't explain it, but he suddenly felt somewhat lost without her presence.

John bit off the vile dressing down that he was about to deliver to a patrolman. Instead, he dismissed the poor fellow and went back to staring out the window of his office. It had been two weeks since he had been stuck in the elevator in New York City with Sam McCall. He filled his days with work to try and forget about her, but his nights were filled with dreams about her. He didn't understand how she had managed to grab hold of his thoughts and feelings so quickly.

With a frustrated growl he sat back down at his desk and flipped open the file in front of him. After reading the same paragraph of a report three times, he sighed and gave up. Perhaps something requiring less of his attention would work. He reached for the mail in his Inbox. That's when he spotted the thick envelope with the FBI logo on it. With a grimace, he opened the envelope. He was only feeding this stupid obsession with Sam McCall and he knew it. He still couldn't stop.

He took the rather thick file out of the envelope and flipped it open. The Cassadines. Everything law enforcement knew about the entire family in black and white. He still couldn't explain why it mattered to him, but it did. Quickly perusing the file, he stopped at the list of family members. Stavros Cassadine, deceased. Stefan Cassadine, deceased. Nikolas Cassadine, alive and living on the family island off the coast of Greece. There was nothing unusual there at all. He was in the process of closing the file when a name caught his attention.

Natasha Alexandra Mikkosovna Cassadine, also known as Alexis Davis. She was the illegitimate daughter of Mikkos Cassadine and his mistress. Mother of three daughters: Molly Lansing, Kristina Davis, and Samantha McCall. God, he had been right. Sam McCall was a Cassadine. But how had he known that? Why did it matter to him? He just didn't know.

Sighing heavily, John stood up and moved to his window, pondering the increasing mystery that was Sam McCall.

Sam got through her days just fine. She had work to distract her and the agency was doing some good solid business. It was her nights that drove her insane. If the dark circles under her eyes were any indication, she was lucky if she was getting more than three hours sleep a night. The worst part was that it was all John McBain's fault. He haunted her dreams. She couldn't escape him.

It had been three weeks since she'd gotten busted by McBain in New York City. Three long weeks since they had been trapped in that elevator together and believing they were going to die. Three weeks since he had kissed her. She still didn't understand why he was so familiar and why she felt a bit lost without him. It made no sense to be that connected to someone she didn't even know.

Sighing in frustration, she sat down at her desk to try and concentrate on the file in front of her. After all of five minutes, Sam concluded it was no use. Putting the file aside, she pulled up her computer and began doing some searching. She would figure out what it was that was driving John McBain into her dreams if it killed her.

After an hour of searching, she had found all the vital information on John McBain. She even had an email address for him at the Llanview, Pensylvania Police Department. It didn't come any closer to answering her question about how this man could unsettle her so much. Leaning back in her chair she closed her eyes for a moment when a name whispered across her mind. Caleb. Sam didn't know how or why, but she knew this name was connected to John.

Pulling up a family tree website that she had found John listed on, she ran search for anyone with the name Caleb connected to him. Sam was surprised to see one result come back. She pulled open the result and gasped in shock. It simply couldn't be. It just couldn't.

"What?" was the impatient demand John made into his phone as it rang to disturb his scrutiny of the Cassadine file yet again.

"John? Dave Pearson here. Just thought you might want to know that some P.I. in New York State has been running a background check on you. It popped up about an hour ago" replied the voice on the other side.

Sitting up straight, John had a feeling he knew who it was. He asked Pearson to tell him anyways.

"A woman Private Investigator named Samantha McCall in Port Charles, New York" was Pearson's reply. John was about to thank him and hang up when he got an alert for a new email. He signed off with Pearson and opened the email. She had sent him something. Not an explanation or preamble to it at all. She'd sent a phone number and a web link. He opened up the web link and sat staring at the photograph of a painting in front of him in shock.

He was staring at a portrait painting of himself and Sam McCall that looked to have been painted almost two hundred years ago. It simply wasn't possible. Before he could even think about what he was doing, he picked up his cell phone and dialed the number in the body of the email message.

"Hello, John. I see you got my email. Do you want to explain to me what's going on here?"