"What is it you need to tell me?" asked Natalie—her stomach knotting itself into a pretzel as she watched John sit on the couch across from her.
"I heard about this case a few weeks ago—when Damon contacted the FBI about possible assistance the first person they came to was me. I turned it down immediately—didn't want to be pulled into another serial killer case—didn't want those memories of Haver and Barber running me over once again.
"But then—then I started looking into the case file, reading the notes—I saw your name."
"John." The word came out so softly that John was barely able to hear it.
"I wanted in on the case then—I didn't come here to be your white knight. I came here because I wanted to see if we still had a chance. Everything you've done for me—everything you did for me—I took it all for granted. I figured this would be my chance to make it up to you."
"I'm confused—you came here to help me solve a case as a payment for your gratitude?"
"No."
He stood up and began pacing the living room—Georgie's eyes following his circles until he ended up standing directly in front of Natalie. "I came here because I wanted to see if you'd be willing to give a completely oblivious man one last chance to make this all work."
"I can't get my heart broken again, John," said Natalie as her eyes connected with his and he saw them filling with tears. "Especially not by you."
John kneeled in front of her, pushing a piece of wet hair out of her face and behind her ear—he could feel the electricity that ran through them by just that simple gesture. "That's not what I want either. I want our chance—you still haunt my dreams Natalie, the way you feel—how you taste," he said softly as his thumb ran over her lips and he felt her breath hitch just a moment.
John leaned in and kissed her softly at first, then when she didn't try and fight he began to kiss deeper, his hands moving and tangling themselves in her hair. He pulled back from the kiss and looked back into her eyes and could see love and desire in them before she pulled his mouth back to hers and he pushed her back into the leather couch.
--------------------
Natalie began stretching on the bed the next morning before she opened her eyes. Feeling the other side empty she thought it must have been a dream, but she remembered making her way up to the bedroom and the feel of John's hands wrapped around her waist for most of the night.
She opened her eyes and saw his side was empty, slipped out of the bed, grabbing her robe she tied it quickly as she slipped out and saw the door to her office was open. As she walked up the steps she could hear John's voice coming from the deck and could hear him talking to someone.
"I know we didn't get off on the best of terms—hopefully you'll get to know me better now. You seem ok yourself—for a dog."
Natalie laughed at realizing he was talking to as she made her way to the French door and saw Georgie sitting and watching him while he drank a cup of coffee, "Georgie—you know better," she scolded and the dog shot out off the deck and out the office. "Sorry—I really don't like her being up here."
"I didn't know—did I wake you?"
She shook her head as she took a seat next to him, "You got up early."
"Yeah, Damon called to remind me about our interview this morning. I need to head into the station soon."
"Want me to come?"
"No, enjoy the day off—I'll be back soon enough," he said as he gave her a kiss and began to walk back into the office and downstairs. He looked back at Natalie, sitting on the bench, the morning sun glistening off her red locks. He'd known he had for a long time, but suddenly finally had the urge to say the words for the first time, "I love you, Natalie."
Natalie blushed at hearing him say the words so easily, "I love you too, John."
---------------
John walked down the hallway of the station and saw Damon standing against the door by the office, "Did James show up?"
"Yeah, he's in the first interview room, but I think you might want to take care of something else first," said Damon and he nodded towards the door.
John wrinkled his brow at Damon as he opened and saw Ashton sitting in a chair. She jumped up and gave him a big hug and then a kiss, "Hey—where were you last night? You never came back to your hotel room."
He froze for a moment, then looked over at Damon who was now grinning before John shut the door on his face. "Ashton," he sighed.
"It's ok, we'll make up for it tonight," she joked as she went to touch his face.
John took her hand and calmly put it at her side, "There is no us—you know that."
"There can be—at least for this weekend—I know how to get you to release all that stress," she said as she tried to reach for his shoulders but he again stepped out of her grasp.
"I'm sorry—I don't want to hurt you."
"What are you talking about? Where were you last night anyways?"
"I will and I am when I tell you last night I spent making love to a woman I've loved since the first moment I met her."
"Stop joking."
"I'm not. Listen, whatever happened in the past in there—in the past. There won't be a future between you and me. First of all because I'm finally getting my chance with Natalie. Second, after this is over I'm getting out of the FBI again."
"She—she was the redhead?" said Ashton as her voice shook.
"Yeah, that's Natalie," he said, a smile creeping on his lips. "I'm sorry—I never meant to hurt you. You're going to find the right one, someday—it's just not me."
---------------------
"Thanks for coming in James—it's ok if I call you James, right?" asked John as he sat slightly on the interview desk and took a sip of his coffee.
"I'm a busy man—what is all this about anyways?"
"Tell us about these women," said Damon as he laid out copies of the crime scene photos in front of him.
"You think I did this?"
"No, but you know who did. What happened with the first photographer? He say no to your little game so you pay him off? Give him a couple hundred grand to shush him?" asked John.
"No—that's not what happened."
"Then tell us what did," stated Damon.
"All I know is he talked in private with Mr. Rose and then he left. I don't even know about him being paid."
"What do you know about your boss exactly?" asked John.
"Not much—he's a businessman—said the magazine was a business venture. The articles were his idea."
Damon looked at John before asking the next question, "How many other women are there between the last victim and Natalie Buchanan?"
When James wouldn't answer John yelled, "How many?"
James hung his head down before speaking quietly, "None. Mr. Rose wanted her in the end."
"In the end?" he repeated looking up to Damon.
"When Mr. Rose came to me about the series of articles he had Natalie already picked out—she was the only one picked out—he called her the final—."
Both men watched James freeze and his face turn ashy white, "The final what?" asked Damon—his voice getting louder but keeping all composure to not bash the man's head in.
James looked up and spoke with a shaky voice, "He called her the final victim."
------------------
"What's the next step?" asked Damon as he sat behind his desk, watching John pace as he threw a Nerf basketball with one hand.
"Well, we can't exactly tell Natalie 'guess what—you are a victim after all—the sicko knows you'."
"No, I don't think that would go very smoothly," chuckled Damon. "Hey—if it isn't my business—earlier, with the blonde girl—were you really with Natalie all night?"
John grinned, "You're right, it isn't your business—but yeah, we were together all night. And before you say anything—no, I won't hurt her, and yes we'll keep it professional."
"Just checking," he grinned as he looked at his watch. "Wow—is it really this late? You want to go pick up the girls and get some dinner?"
"Sounds good—my mind could use a rest for a little while."
