It was like running into a wall made of solid steel. The water's temprature was several degrees below the air around it, and it knocked the wind out of her. Sam came up to the surface, gulping in a last breath of air before diving.

The shouts from the pier, the rain, the thunder; all of the noise vanished in an instant, and Sam was alone in the cold, murky water. The dress she wore and her hair floated around her like a halo. Her ears filled with the pressure and deep sound of the water surrounding her. Her eyes stung as she squinted through the darkness, and moved deeper.

Lightning flashed and lit up the river for less than a second. Sam kept going until the next flash. Something white several meters below her weakly reflected the light and she swam towards it. Reaching out Sam grabbed onto John's white shirt and pulled him to her. He was unconscious, blood on his chest and face. She kissed him on the corner of his mouth and looked up.

Wrapping her arm around his middle, she kicked and paddled furiously at the water, forcing her way up. Needles pressed into her lungs as the need to exhale overwhelmed her. John slipped in her arm and she dug her fingers into his shirt to keep her grip as she struggled to get to the surface.

Sam couldn't hold it any longer and exhaled as her head breached the surface of the river. She coughed and spluttered at the water that entered her lungs, but breathed in the sweet, cool air. Her hand splashed upon the surface and her legs kicked frantically under her as she supported John with her. His head lolled onto her shoulder as she held him above the water, and swam towards the pier.

Carter, Lionel and Kevin stared in disbelief as she swam towards them. Carter reached down first as Sam forced her way to the pier, her muscles screaming in protest.

She held onto the wooden frame as she tried to hoist John up to them. But he was much too heavy for her to lift. Carter knelt down and Kevin joined her. They grabbed onto his suit jacket and hefted him up. Slowly, John was pulled onto the pier.

Sam let out a breath of exhaustion as she treaded water for another moment until more hands came down for her. She reached up, grabbing onto Lionel and Kevin's arms. They pulled her out, dragging her onto the pier.

Her dress clung to her, the skirt and her hair sopping as she slopped down to her knees on the wooden planks.

"He's not breathing," Carter said, crouching over him.

Sam crawled over to them. There was only one wound that she could see on the far right side of his chest. It didn't look like it had been fatal. Carter appeared to come to the same conclusion when she rolled him onto his side. Sam pulled as Carter pushed until he was lying on his left side. Water leaked from his lips. Carter pushed her hands up against his back, trying to force the water out of his lungs.

"Come on, John," Sam pleaded. "Come on you freaking jackass! If you leave me like this, I will find you. I will hunt you down, wherever you are, and I will – "

John's entire frame convulsed violently and he coughed. Water spilled out of his mouth and nose. He gasped and rolled onto his back, opening his eyes. Sam bent over him, her tears mixing with the rain, and her hair dripping all over him as she laughed hysterically and collapsed onto his side.

"I'm curious," Carter said. "What was the end of that threat going to be, exactly?"

Rain pattered against the window. John woke and looked around. He didn't recognize the bedroom, nor did he understand why he was fully clothed, lying on a made bed. He sat up when he heard his name.

She entered the room wearing a simple gown of white that moved gently with her as she walked in.

"Jess," John breathed her name as though it gave him life.

"Hello, John," she smiled the smile that had carried him away when he first saw her.

He didn't hesitate. John took her and pulled her close, holding her tightly in his arms, believing that she'd truly disappear if he let go for even a second. He stroked her light hair and thanked whatever God in existence that it was over.

"You're here," he said quietly.

"I'm here." She kissed him gently.

Holding her face in his hands, he kissed her hungrily again, and again. They turned as one and moved onto the bed. She pushed his suit jacket off of his shoulders and onto the floor. John slipped his hands under her back, his mouth moving from her lips to her ear, and neck.

She laughed softly. "I love you."

John stopped suddenly and lifted his head up. Sam looked up at him from the pillow, her dark hair in a soft pool around her head.

"What is it, John?" She slipped her hand under his collar to his neck and jaw as she moved herself up to meet his lips again.

John's eyes snapped open. His head jerked up, and he immediately regretted the movement. His body seized up from the shooting pain up his arm and neck. He let out a groan and lay back down.

"John?"

Sam's voice came from outside the room. It was Sam's bedroom he was lying in. John recognized the floral pattern on the blankets that matched the closed drapes over the window. The lights were out and a fan was spinning quietly on the bedside table.

The door opened a crack as she peeked in.

"Hello, Sunshine," she said, seeing that he was awake.

John tried sitting up, but it was more difficult than he'd anticipated.

"Hang on, let me help you," Sam ran to the bedside and supported his right arm, which was held tightly in a sling, and stuffed pillows behind his back.

John sat back, and looked down at his chest. He was wearing a t-shirt that was not his. He looked under the collar and saw the white bandage on the right side of his chest that went under his arm.

Sam opened the curtains, letting in light from the still cloudy sky. She turned to him and smiled. "You look fabulous."

John squinted at her. She climbed up on the other side of the bed and knelt next to him. "Let me see," she said, lifting her hand to his face.

He jerked his head back instinctively and Sam stopped. "Are you all right?" She asked innocently. "Besides the obvious, that is."

John tried to relax. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Sam cupped her hand over his forehead, then his cheek. "Oh good," she said with relief. "You had a fever last night. I was afraid you were getting pneumonia or something. But it's gone."

She rubbed her hand over the stubble on his face. "Kind of scruffy, though," she laughed. Her smile left and her face fell. "Why are you looking at me like I might explode?"

John blinked and relaxed his features. "Sorry. I had a weird dream," he said, smiling sheepishly.

"Good or bad?" Sam asked.

John hesitated. "I'm not sure."

Sam shrugged. "I wouldn't give it too much merit. It's probably the pain killers. And you have been hit in the head a lot recently. You were shot barely in the chest, and the other one grazed your neck." She gently tilted his head and examined the angry red streak on the nape of his neck. "I should put some more of that stuff on it." She got off the bed. "I've got some food for you. I don't care what you say, you need to eat," she continued as she left the room.

A minute later, Sam entered the room again carrying a tray with eggs, toast and jam, and orange juice. She set it down in front of John and checked the bandage that was on his head. He hadn't noticed it before she touched it.

"They sure did a number on you," she muttered. "I'll have to change that again."

"Sam."

"Yeah?"

"You'll have to fill me in a little bit. Why are we in your apartment?"

"I told Finch that I'd take care of you, but he wouldn't tell me where you live, like it's some great big secret."

"The less you know – "

"Blah, blah, blah, yes," Sam mocked his tone as she sat on the bed next to him. "So we brought you here after we took you to a crazy doctor Finch knows. You were kind of in and out of it. But, he patched you up, we brought you here, and you're going to be okay." She smiled as she said the last words.

John took a hold of the fork with his left hand and awkwardly scooped a bite of eggs into his mouth.

"I knew you were right handed," Sam said as she watched him. "If you need help shaving, I can – "

"You won't need to do that."

"Yeah, you'll just manfully slice your ear off instead of have me help you."

John took another bite as he thought on last night's events. He remembered waking up on the pier, seeing Sam's face above him. She was soaked to the bone, but he had been as well.

"Finch said he'd come see you later. He's doing a little research right now."

"Research?"

"On your friend, Mark. We heard what you said to him. Finch is trying to find out if he's still even working for the CIA."

"He's not," John said solidly.

"How do you know?"

"He was… different. I just could tell. He's turned this into something personal."

Sam pulled her legs up in front of her as she thought. "Wouldn't that make it easier for you? If he's not working for the government, you both are – "

"On a level playing field," John looked at her with a hint of a smile. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know. He was gone when I went to get you," Sam said, her eyes roaming elsewhere in the room, away from John's face.

She grabbed half a piece of toast from his tray and started munching on it as he watched her. "Thank you, Sam. You were amazing," he said softly.

Sam's neck reddened and she smiled at her lap. "John, I have to be honest with you. I don't really know how any of that happened last night. I remember doing everything, but it's like something just took me over and was controlling me. I can't explain it."

"That's exactly how it happens sometimes."

"Detective Carter tried to confiscate my gun."

John nearly snorted. "And?"

"It's more legal than any of the ones you carry around," Sam said, raising her eyebrows. "She gave it back to me. And it's not like I shot anybody with that particular gun anyway."

"Finch called Lionel and Carter? That's surprising," John vaguely remembered seeing Carter above him as well, and Lionel in the background somewhere.

"Harold said that he called Carter. Lionel happened to be with her. So, you don't need to worry yet. He knows about her, but not the other way around," Sam explained. "I didn't realize that was going on until last night."

She brushed some crumbs off of her blanket and took another bite of toast when someone knocked at the front door. Sam leaped off the bed and scampered into the living room.

John heard the door open.

"Hey!" Sam said happily.

"Where's the invalid?" John recognized Eva's voice. She was obviously referring to him.

"Give him here," Sam demanded.

Out of the corner of his eye John saw a white something poking from under the alarm clock on the bedside table. Curious, he reached over and tugged at it, pulling it free. A folded piece of paper with Sam's name on it - He sat up, stuffing the paper behind him as someone approached the bedroom. Eva poked her face in and let out a surprised whistle. She came in and sat at the foot of the bed. "You look all right for someone who fell down two flights of stairs."

"What?"

"Sam said you fell last night, right?"

John glanced up to the doorway to see Sam holding Eva's little boy, Ben, and violently nodding her head.

"Oh, yeah, it was pretty bad. That doesn't usually happen to me," John played along.

Eva looked at him curiously. "But she says that you're pretty accident prone, always needing a bandage somewhere…"

"Yes, that's true. But it hasn't happened in a while, is more what I meant. I've been lucky I guess," he shot Sam a look that made her writhe a little.

"I'm glad you're okay, John," Eva said.

"Thank you," John smiled.

Sam came into the room with little Ben. "Eva, your child reeks. I think he's loaded."

"Now he's my child," Eva sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

Sam paused as she thought over what Eva said. "But… he is your child."

Eva shook her head and grabbed Ben from Sam on her way out of the room.

"Fell down the stairs?" John said, keeping his amusement in check.

"Oh yeah," Sam said sarcastically, waving her hands in the air. "Let's say what really happened. My friend, John, was hunted down and shot by ex agents of the CIA."

"But, stairs?"

"What do you want me to do? I couldn't say you were mugged. She's seen you fight hand to hand."

She climbed back on the bed and sat facing him as John finished his breakfast. "She came to see you. Well – okay, I invited her over because – " Sam scooted closer to him and lowered her voice. "I know that there's this weird, silent agreement between us that we will never discuss anything you said while on that truth stuff."

John's eyes narrowed. One of the differences between being drunk and being on truth serum is in one instance, you remember everything clearly, the other, you don't. John remembered everything he said to Sam that night. Some of things he wished he could take back and keep in his own head.

"I asked Eva to come over today so we could take Ben for a walk in the park. I thought, maybe, you'd like having a normal life for a few hours." She glanced at the stick figure comic t-shirt he was wearing. "Don't worry about that. That's something my old boyfriend left here. It was either that or 'I'm With Stupid'. This morning Finch brought over one of your clean suits and a shirt without any bullet holes. So, you can change into that."

"Thank you, Sam... for taking care of me," John said, reaching out to take her hand.

"It was my turn."