Thanks for all of the kind words.

Hope Is Born Again

The streets were quiet and a chill was in the air. Although the skies had threatened snow earlier, everything was clear. Just the right kind of night to do patrolling.

"Two weeks until Christmas and I still don't know what to get Sam," Lionel grumbled as he shoved his hands deep inside the pockets of his double fleeced lined coat.

"I thought you had that picked out already," John remarked as the pair walked the beat of the neighbourhood they knew so well.

"I had. Then I realized I have to get her something else."

"Sleeping on the couch again?"

Lionel stopped at looked at his partner with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. "How did you know?"

"You look as though you haven't slept in two days," John observed. "And you're grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy," Lionel contradicted. "I'm just...you try sleeping on a couch when you're used to a Sleep Number bed."

"What happened?"

"What happened? What happened?! You should know! You and Joss are the reason I lost the right to adjust my mattress!" Lionel stated vehemently.

John mentally listed the things he could have done. "Oh. The party."

"Like I was supposed to know that the woman you gave the ticket to was Joss."

John looked contrite as he apologized. "Sorry."

"Pfft! Sorry. You need to be saying that to Sam." Despite having heavy gloves on his hands, Lionel rubbed them together. "Let's get a coffee," he invited.

"Am I paying?"

"You mean you weren't?"

"Lead the way, Lionel."

"So, what happened on Sunday? I thought we were going to the game? Then you call and say you can't make it?"

John scratched the back of his neck. "I took somebody else," he said slowly.

"Wait! You what?!" Lionel exclaimed. "I thought those were our tickets!"

"They were. It's just that I received a phone call that morning requesting that I fill in for a Big Brother position, and I had to think of something fast," John apologized.

"Big Brother? You?" Lionel scoffed. "For who?"

"Taylor Carter."

Lionel's hand paused on the handle of the cafe door. Turning slowly, he stared wide-eyed at John. "Taylor Carter? Joss Carter's son?"

"The same."

Lionel started to chuckle. "Well, if that don't beat all. How did Mom react to you showing up on her doorstep?"

"I took her too."

"Wait! You took Joss Carter to a basketball game?" Lionel sputtered in surprise. "You only had two tickets."

"It worked out."

"I won't ask how it went since you're still alive and kicking. So, you two are good?"

"I suppose. We went out to dinner after the game, and then we talked. And this afternoon I took Taylor to shoot some hoops," John revealed enough information – he hoped – to satisfy Lionel's curiosity. It didn't.

"When you say 'talk', is that talk, or talk?" Lionel inquired saucily.

John opened the door. "I'm going inside."

"No, really, talk to me," Lionel begged as he hurried inside the warm room. "You said you talked."

"Two large coffees," John placed his order with the older gentleman behind the counter. "And two donuts."

"Come on, Wonderboy, you have to give me the juicy details."

"That will be four dollars," the older man said as he handed over the to-go cups. He waited for John to hand him the bills, then handed back the change. "The donuts are at the end of the counter; help yourselves, officers."

"Thanks." John handed the cup over to Lionel and then headed to the wall with the pastries. Taking the tongs, he took two donuts from the stack.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Lionel asked.

"Why do you want to know about my private life?" John shot back.

"Probably because you've never had one...before this."

"And...?"

"The 411 will get me off the couch. It's your fault for not being able to play nice that I am where I am."

"We just talked. Satisfied?"

Lionel wrestled with himself over the news that nothing had happened. "No. Not really. But you like her, right?"

"I like her."

"Like, really like her?" Lionel seemed hopeful at the prospect of a possible romance.

John seemed uncomfortable being put on the spot. "I'm not sure how I feel about her," he confessed honestly. "I like her and I like Taylor."

"Get some mistletoe."

John nearly choked on his coffee. "Mistle what?"

"Mistletoe."

"For what, Lionel?"

"To kiss her, Sherlock! Geez, do I have to do everything for you?" Lionel said with borderline exasperation.

John held up his free hand. "Whoa! Kiss her?! We're just friends."

"Sure you are. And I'm going to be on the cover of next month's GQ," Lionel replied with a sarcastic snort. "You like her – shoot, you pined over her for two days! And she must like you since she let you take her pride and joy out for a few hours – and trust me on this: She doesn't let anyone take Taylor out anywhere. No matter the circumstances."

John digested the information. "That's interesting," he murmured. "Tell me, Lionel: What do you know about Cal Beecher?"

"Twenty-four karat Cal? What do you know about him?" he approached the topic cautiously.

"Taylor may have mentioned him in passing."

"He was a D.A. at that expensive law firm on the other side of town. Thought he was God's gift to women. A little too slick, in my opinion."

"He sounds...eccentric."

"For lack of a better word. He had the best of everything – cars, clothes, women - partly due to the trust fund his dad – a federal judge left him. So he used it to woo the women. Seems he decided to pursue the lonely legal-aid widow and make her his. I think it had more to do with his firm trying to swallow up Sam and Joss'."

"What happened?"

"Eh. One night he decided he was going to try and seduce said widow, and found himself lying flat on his back on the floor," Lionel chortled gleefully.

"Joss did that?"

"That's an understatement, buddy. She went totally ninja on him. Once he recovered, he high-tailed it out of her house and town." Lionel bit into his donut. "Last I heard, he was in the big city dating some up and coming defense attorney named Andrea Gutierrez. Guess they got a kid." He shrugged.

"So, she isn't looking?"

"You interested?"

"No," John denied. "I don't want to find myself lying on the floor counting her ceiling tiles."

"Ah. Self-preservation. Smart move. Try the mistletoe; take it slow."

"Take it slow," John repeated.

"In the meantime, I need to find a way off the couch."

Lifting the cup to his lips, John threw a wink at his partner. "Try some mistletoe."
******

"Coffee's fresh and the donuts are dry," Samantha informed as Joss walked into the office.

"Thanks." Joss hung her coat on the tree and poured herself a cup of java.

"Someone is smiling this morning," Samantha observed with a grin. "Something happen that I need to know about?"

"Nothing much," Joss replied enigmatically. As she walked to her desk, she hobbled for a second before recovering. An action that was not lost on the other woman.

"Joss! What happened?"

"Small accident. I'll live." Joss sat down. "Where's the 'Warren' file?" she asked and searched the stack.

"Small accident? Does it involve a tall, dark, and gorgeous man?"

Joss ignored her. "I swear I put the file right here when I left last night." She continued the search.

"Come on, Joss. Talk to me."

"I have to find that file. I have to be at the courthouse at eleven." Joss opened and closed the drawers.

Samantha stood up, grabbed a file, then sauntered over to Joss. "You mean this file?" she asked coyly.

"Where was it?"

Samantha tapped it on her hand. "You asked me to check over your opening statement, remember?"

Joss touched her fingers to her forehead as if to jolt her memory. "Yeah, I did. May I have it, please?"

"After."

"After, what?"

"You tell me what happened to cause your limp." Samantha sat down on the corner of the desk. "Come on, Joss. One secret for one folder..."

"Your tactics for getting the truth out of the other parties isn't going to work on me." Joss held steadfast in her refusal to divulge all.

"Okay. Playing tough. Thought you might hold out." Standing up, Samantha walked over to her desk and pulled a large bag from the drawer. "That is why I have these."

Joss gulped. "Are those...?"

"Yes, they are. And they are all yours if you tell me what happened," Samantha purred.

The inner struggle went on for half a second. "Oh, for heaven's sake; hand them over!" Joss held out her hand impatiently. Once she had the bag, she tore it open and dove inside.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"John took Taylor out for basketball practice, then dinner, and when he brought Taylor home, I went to make a pot of coffee and the cup slipped from my hand."

"And that is when you stepped on it," Samantha supplied.

"Yes."

"And John just happened to be there when it happened. How convenient," Sam pointed out. "Where was he?"

"Sam..."

"I gave you the bag, Joss."

"He was standing behind me," she confessed. "And then I stepped on a shard, and he took care of it. Then he..." Joss shoved the treat in her mouth to cut off any further words.

"Then he, what?"

"Nothing," Joss said with her mouth full.

"Then he, what, Joss?" Samantha reached for the bag. Joss pulled it against her body protectively.

"He carried me and put me to bed. Satisfied?"

Samantha's mouth dropped open. "No he didn't?!"

"It was totally innocent. Taylor was there."

"Did you get a kiss good night?"

"No. But he did sweep up the mess and he made sure to tell Taylor to set the alarm after he left," Joss said casually.

"You like him."

"I-"

"You like him a lot."

"Sam..."

"And I think he likes you."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. There is still the matter of the parking ticket and the busted jug of milk," Joss retorted.

"I thought you forgave him."

"I did," Joss confirmed, "but I'm still out 64.25."

"He held your foot and didn't make a move on you. That sounds like he paid it back."

"Maybe."

Samantha looked surprised. "Maybe?! In my book that pays it back in tenfold. I think you need to get some mistletoe."

"Mistletoe? You mean to...kiss him?"

"No," Samantha replied sarcastically. "To play checkers. Yes, to kiss him."

"I think it's too soon."

"I think you're nuts. He's not Cal Beecher, you know, who's going to worm his way into your life and then try to take advantage of you, Joss. I think John genuinely likes you."

"Well, I think I genuinely like him too."

"You don't know how much that means to me...and Lionel."

"What's Lionel got to do with this?"

Samantha slid off the desk and slowly walked back to hers. "Well, it seems that after the spat at the party the other night, Lionel got relugated to the couch."

"Why?"

"Because..." Samantha tried to think of a reason, then gave up. "I don't know. I was angry. I thought maybe...I haven't been feeling myself the past few days." She grabbed the tissue from the box and held it to the corner of her eye.

Joss hurried over to give comfort. "It's okay, Sam."

"Just overwhelmed, I think. With the holidays and trying to get these cases finished up before Christmas...I don't know how you do it. The pressure and all."

"Sounds like you need these." Joss opened the bag and offered it to the weepy woman. "How about we finish up the files, and once I get done at the courthouse, we'll go shopping?

"Sexy dress and mistletoe?"

Joss raised her eyebrows. "For whom?"

Smiling, Samantha took one of the treats and popped in her mouth.