Part two


***

/.../
I've traveled many roads
And not all of them were good
The foolish ones taught more to me
Than the wise ones ever could
One road leads to sacrifice
One road leads to shame
One road leads to freedom
But they all look the same
/.../

Calvin RUSSEL, 'Crossroads',Sounds from the fourth world

***
Boston
Somewhere, in a warehouse

"O' Connor's here."

"Let him in."

O' Connor entered, a satisfied smile on his face.

"He is here. But not alone. He was with a woman when we caught him. They seem to be close so we brought her too."

After a long and lethal silence, O' Doyle spoke slowly.

"Okay. Maybe we will need her. But no hurt. We only want what John exactly knows, and maybe she knows that too. Get it?"

"Sounds like a little revenge for me" O' Connor whispered.

Indeed, two years before, John had killed O' Connor's little brother, Seamus, while he was working for the Atlanta PD. Seamus was involved in a bank robbery. He had killed two officers during the operation but John, excellent marksman, didn't let him a chance to escape.

***

Sam woke up slowly. She didn't remember having had such an headache, ever. She scanned the room then realized John was there too and the previous events began to come to her mind. She was sat on a chair, wrists and ankles tied up. She checked on John who was laying on the floor, his wrists tied up as well behind his back. The blow on his head was bleeding, not alarmingly but he was still unconscious and Sam began to worry. She decided to try to awake him.

"John ..." she called softly.

"John." She repeated louder as he stirred.

"John, you have to wake up. Open your eyes."

She heard a groan as he shook his head. He finally opened his eyes and looked around him, trying to remember what happened and where he was. Then he saw her.

"Sam ... Are you okay?" He asked hoarsely.

"I'm fine John."

He let out a sigh of relief then tried to sit against the wall. He stared at the floor, avoiding Sam's questioning look.

"John, what's going on? Who are they?"

John remained silent and kept his eyes down. He knew he would have to explain but he was not sure he could handle it then.

"John", she said softly, "I think I have the right to know."

He leaned up his head against the wall, closed his eyes and sighed.

"It is ... complicated, Sam. Really." He paused.

All of a sudden, the door opened and reveled O' Connor and his goons. John jumped on is feet to face him. They were staring at each other so intensely that Sam could feel the tension between both men and see a similar anger inside their eyes.

O' Connor gestured his left hand and the two other guys grabbed John by behind, holding tightly his arms to prevent him from moving, and let his chest unprotected.

John knew what they wanted. He also knew how they would get the information.

"It's good to see you again John" O' Connor began while coming closer to John.

John slightly smiled then looked straight in O' Connor's eyes. "I can see subtlety is definitely not a quality in your family."

O' Connor's anger grew inside him and he threw his fist into John's chest. He knocked the wind out of John and he began to kneel but the two guys behind straightened him. He hardly winced. He didn't want to give O' Connor any satisfaction.

Sam had briefly closed her eyes and realized at her turn what would come next. Her heartbeat fastened and tears began to form in her eyes. She had quickly learnt that stubbornness concerning John Grant was an euphemism. And then she acknowledged he would prefer to be beaten to death rather than tell them what they wanted to hear. She tried to find John's look to convince him to give up but deep inside she realized it was a dead hope so she decided she would try to support him if he minded to look at her. At that moment, he was too busy challenging O' Connor, his gaze never leaving his.

O' Connor breathed slowly to calm down a little.

" I thought you would have changed ... But I can see an O' Doyle stays an O' Doyle !"

'An O' Doyle? Sam wondered as she stared at John trying to read his mind. All that could be seen was his anger. At the mention of this name he tried to move toward O' Connor but the two jerks still held him tight.

"Wow, Johnny ... keep cool !" O' Connor was grinning. "I suppose you know why you're here" he said as he was pacing in front of John. John had closed his eyes to hide his lost of nerves but Sam could see his jaw tightening to the max.

O' Connor stopped pacing and put on a brass knuckle. Then he began.

"So, Johnny Boy, why did you come back to Boston?"

"To kick your ass as I kicked your brother's?" he answered with a cocky tone mirroring O' Connor using his stupid nickname. O' Connor couldn't wait longer and hit John, twice, in his side. John couldn't hold back his cry and he fell on his knees. He flinched when they put him up again on his feet.

Sam gasped and closed her eyes. She wasn't sure she could bear to see this. Her heart was hurting. Finally, she reopened her eyes and looked at John. Their look found themselves naturally. And if John could see pain and worry in hers, Sam could read shame and sorry in his. As if he apologized.'She didn't deserve to attend that' he thought.

O' Connor stared at John and slowly put his gaze on her. Then he looked back at John. He came a little closer to him and whispered : " Beautiful your girlfriend. She doesn't deserve you ..."

And suddenly John's heart was wrapped in fear at the thought of what he could do to her.

"If you don't want to talk, maybe she ..." but John didn't let him finish.

"Don't touch her bastard, or else ..." O' Connor turned back to face him and cut him, laughing.

"Or else you what?" He became serious again." You're not exactly in the position to tell me what to do."

John avoided Sam's look and focused on O' Connor's. "She is not my girlfriend. Besides she has nothing to do in our business. Let her go."

O' Connor backhanded hard John then punched him. He fell on his knees again but O' Connor ordered his guys to let him.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? Who do you want to believe such a bad lie?"

John didn't respond immediately. He had difficulties to breathe and to focus. He had lost blood and was no longer very sharp.

"She doesn't know anything. Let her go ..." He couldn't finish his sentence as O' Connor kicked him in the back. John clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. He was hurting more and more. This had to stop or he would pass out, he could already see black little spots forming before his eyes.

O' Connor looked at Sam who was crying silently, then back at John who was trying to stand up. O' Connor shook slowly his head.

"Johnny Boy" he paused, " You will never be able to protect your women, won't you? Too bad you're so coward, when your mother ..."

That was the extreme provocation and John suddenly threw himself into O' Connor, slamming him against the wall. Quickly the two guys held him back again.

Sam had never seen so much anger in John's eyes when O' Connor mentioned his mother. It was as if he would have killed him with his bare hands if he had been able to. She saw anger and pain. An incredible pain. She let escape another tear.

O' Connor pushed himself off the wall and sighed. "Johnny, really, you're a bad boy !" He glanced at his right hand with the brass knuckle then back at John. "You caught Sean and Mark. I guess you won't answer if I ask you what's the next step? Or if I ask you what you exactly know?" He had a smile with a hint of sadism while talking.

John regained some composure and straightened enough to look directly in O' Connor's eyes. Then he clenched his teeth to show he wouldn't say anything. O' Connor smiled and muttered something, expressing his satisfaction, obviously taking a great pleasure in the situation. Unlike Sam. She closed her eyes at John's reaction. She didn't want to see this. She only could heard the repeated sound of O' Connor beating up John and that was enough for her. She cried again, harder, hurting inside.

Finally John fell on his knees under his batterer's blows, his eyes closed. He still didn't want to show him any sign of pain. No, he didn't want to. He breathed deeply, trying to ignore the pain it caused but failed. O' Connor pulled him up and hit him once with his knee in the stomach. John was bound to let escape a shout and O' Connor hit again. That time, he let John lying on the floor. He motioned one guy out of the room then stared at John.

"Your father's right. You're weak. Hard to believe you're his son. He doesn't deserve you." Sam saw John's hands tightened, his knuckles turning white. "You'll see him soon."

He grabbed the bottle of water the man had brought back and put it down newt to Sam. He turned toward John. "Clean you up a little to face your father." Then he turned back to Sam and untied her.

On his way to leave the room, he stopped before John and kicked him hard a last time then went out. Sam didn't dare to move until she heard the sound of the door lock then she hurried by John's side. He was lying on his back, trying to stay awake but he was in such a big pain. Sam gently rolled him on his side to untie him. He didn't say anything, just rubbed his sore wrists. Sam could hear how difficult it was for him to simply breathe.

"Oh my God, John ... you look like hell." She said softly as she was stroking his hair.

He had kept his eyes closed. He suddenly opened them when he felt warm drops falling on his face. Sam was crying.

"Sam ... No ... Don't cry ..." He put his hand on her cheek and brushed away the tears. He tried to sit up. He wanted so much to hold her in his arms and comfort her. But he failed and fell back down, wincing. He hated to see her like this, especially that time it was because of him and he would never forgive himself for that.

"Don't move John." She managed to say between two sobs. She gently put her hand on his chest and John closed his eyes. He soon let himself sink into darkness.

Sam watch him a while, listening to the rhythm of his breath, broken by pain. She took the bottle of water, drank some of it then moistened her handkerchief. Carefully she cleaned up the blood on his face, his neck then cleansed the blow near his temple. He looked a little better. And yet, Sam was more and more worried about him. O' Connor's words were still turning inside her head. 'Who is John's fathe? What kind of father could do that to his own son? And why did he call John O' Doyle?' She came there to get answers to her questions but she finally had more and more to ask. Sam was discovering John under a new light. She has always known how strong and proud he was. He didn't show his pain. He never did. And even this time he hid it deep inside. Not even once she saw a single tear begin to form in his eyes from pain or anger.

Suddenly she was interrupted in her thoughts as she heard him moan. It seemed he was calling his mother in his sleep. She cupped his cheek with one hand and put the other on his shoulder.

"John, wake up." She called softly. He slowly turned his head then flinched from the pain coming back. "It's just a dream John, open your eyes." She said caressing his cheek. His eyes locked with hers and he smiled weakly.

"You really are an angel, aren't you?"

She smiled back at him but it faded quickly. John could easily see worry again in her expression. There was also questioning then. He began to sat up. It hurt too much so Sam helped him against the wall. They didn't move nor speak for a moment. John knew Sam was going to ask too many questions to his taste. He spoke first.

"What are you doing in Boston Sam?" They stared at each other in silence. John tried to read her mind but he couldn't. So many feelings were showing on her face.

"I came to see you. But I guess I didn't choose the best moment …" John cut her.

"You didn't answer me. You know that. We are talking about you for once, not me."

Sam narrowed her eyes. 'What did he want to hear from me ?'she thought. John was kicking himself. 'Geez, Grant, what are you thinking? That she came here because she cares for you?'

"Sorry, Sam. Forget it." He paused then whispered "I'm sorry."

"For what ?"

"Sam, look at you. Look at me ... Isn't that good enough a reason?" He had a hint of a smile. "You should not be here. You should not have come."

Sam looked down at the floor. "I needed to" she whispered. John had to lean closer to hear her. She looked up, her face just a few inches from his. "We need to talk John."

She wished she could explain him what she felt, how much she cared but before dealing with her feelings - and his, she decided she had to clear the situation. And she needed to do it then, afraid she might never have another opportunity to ask him all she had always wanted to ask.

"Sam ..." John sighed. He had hoped she would let it go for a while. She didn't let him finish.

"No John. I think I deserve an explanation. What's going on John? Who are they?" She paused. "Why did he call you O' Doyle?"

He smiled. "The Spanish Inquisition again?" She silenced him with a look. John frowned. Too many questions and she didn't seem to find it funny. He didn't answer.

"John, please. Talk to me." She put her hand on his arm. "You know you can trust me."

Of course he knew. She was probably the only person he could trust to tell the whole story. The only one she cared about enough to tell therefore the only one he was really afraid to talk to.

"It is complicated Sam. And long."

"It seems we have some time for us."

He breathed deeply, slightly wincing. He didn't know where to start. He had never talked anyone about that. Beyond his body's ache, he felt a sharp pain in his heart.

"I have a big confession to make Sam. A huge one." She remained silent, never leaving his eyes. "Grant is not my real name. I … I was born Jonathan O' Doyle, the O' Doyle of the Boston's mob."

She frowned when she heard the word 'mob'. Keeping his eyes closed, John carried on.

"My father is the famous ... well, too famous, Patrick O' Doyle."

"Oh ... I see." She let out. She couldn't say anything else but she could tell it was very hard for him to confess it and in the same way to admit it.

"Yeah ... O' Connor - the tallest guy - is his right-hand man. He seeks a revenge because two years ago I killed his little brother during a robbery while I was in the Atlanta PD. A week ago we caught some important members of O' Doyle's team. You can imagine he didn't really appreciate it. This is why we are here. Even if I think you were not part of the initial plan ..." he trailed off.

Sam was trying to absorb the information. Sure this was an answer to her questions however it only raised more questions. And looking at John again she realized how much anger was eating him up inside. She had missed it until that moment. She also realized how tired and in pain he was. Maybe she would wait for a better moment to deal with all her remaining questions - and feelings.

"You should try to sleep John. You're weak and you need to rest as much as you can. I guess I should do the same." She added softly.

John smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "You must be right." She was giving in for a while and he felt somewhat relieved. He knew more questions would come, mainly about his father, he could see it on her face when he opened his eyes. Sure he will need some rest to face the situation and to face another conversation with Sam.

They heard the sound of the door lock and a man came in. He was bringing something to eat and a blanket. The man stared at them, then he looked straight into john's eyes. Anger was obviously burning in his gaze but he didn't say a word. He went out slamming the door shut and locked it again.

Sam turn toward John. "Do you know him?"

John merely shook his head negatively. "No. But I wonder if he is not O' Connor's other little brother. I am not sure but I believe he has got two brothers. He must be the other."

Sam's worry reached another step higher. John's life was really at stake. It really hit her while watching the man. 'And I didn't know the whole story' she thought. She stood up and went toward the trey on the floor. Not really appealing but it was better than nothing to eat at all. She turned back to John to give him some of the food but he had already fallen asleep. She put the blanket on him, careful not to wake him then returned to the trey and ate a little. Then she fell asleep in her turn on the floor.

Some time later, John woke up. The pain hit him like a wall as he tried to move then he realized there was a blanket over him. He slowly looked around the room and spotted Sam curled in a ball on the floor. He swallowed with difficulty the lump that was forming in his throat and felt again a sting in his heart. Due to his feelings or to guilt ... surely both. She seemed so fragile, so vulnerable. Each time he witnessed this he acknowledged his feelings, his love and the reason why he was still alive. All he wanted was to protect her. But instead he was threatening her life and he would regret it till his death.

He put off the blanket and stood ever so slowly. It really hurt. He was wondering if he could reach her before passing out again. Finally beside her, he kneeled carefully then he put the blanket on her. He watched her sleep, hesitant. Then he gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she always did. Feeling his touch she opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." he whispered.

"It's okay." She sat up. "You should keep it" she said holding the blanket in her hands.

John put it back on her. "I saw you shivering so, better now?"

She smiled at him. "Yeah." Then a chill traveled her whole body. "Well ... maybe not." She added confused. John returned her smile, still looking at her like hypnotized.

He stood, his back arched because of the pain. He sat against the wall just behind her and pulled her body against his. Sam let herself be drawn into his embrace, not moving afraid she could hurt him. John grimaced from the pain when her body landed softly against his ribs but soon her warmth seemed to ease his pain. 'She felt so good' he thought. He knew he had to sleep and yet he stayed awake to experience every feeling of having her so close, so tenderly. He put his arms around her and Sam let go of her head on his chest, near is neck. 'I feel safe, at home' she thought. She could sense his caring and generous soul radiating from his body.

They stayed a while like that. Silent. Just appreciating. Then Sam had to go ahead. She didn't know if it was the right moment - was there a right one ? but she had to ask. At least she could try.

"John." She called softly, her eyes still closed.

"What ?"

She seemed to hesitate and John understood she was about to ask. He closed his eyes as well waiting for the question to come.

"Why do you absolutely want to put your father in jail ? I know he is the head of the mob but he is still your father. And there is so much anger and pain in your eyes when you talk about him. There's something beyond the mob story you're not telling me."

She stopped there and could feel his whole body tense behind her. She was hoping he would accept to talk, that he would not let the walls come again around him.

'Here we are Grant' he said to himself. He was assaulted by memories and tried to gather his thoughts. A few minutes passed and he swallowed hard before starting.

"I've never talked to anybody about that you know." He paused and Sam could tell it was hard for him considering how hoarse his voice was. For a moment she feared he might be upset by her question.

"I always had a difficult relationship with my father. He was ... and I guess he still is ... very demanding. I was the only child at home and he did want to have a son. A real son he could be proud of, a son who would look like him. This is how I began practicing boxing, ice hockey, basketball, football ...

Sam put up her head so that she could see his face and looked at him. His eyes still closed, he spoke again.

"My father is a man of principles. He thought men are to be strong and don't have to show any kind of weakness. He taught me those principles and he was damn good at it. I can tell you. To be sure I had understood, he used to ... beat me up ... roughly ... regularly."

Sam could tell it was really hard for him, she could sense his body shaking, nervous moves were going through it and his voice was husky.

"My mother tried several times to stop him but, she was so fragile and petite. She just couldn't. So she had to watch him hitting me when he didn't beat her up too …" At the end of the sentence his voice cracked a little and he breathed deeply. He still could hear the sounds of the repeating knocks he inflicted her. Sam put her hand on his chest to let him know she was there, with him. She was considering telling him to stop if it was too hard when he opened his eyes to stare at the wall in front of him.

"One day ... I was fourteen ... I came back home as if I was coming back from the hockey game. But I wasn't. I had not been for a week then. Naively I thought and hoped my father wouldn't know." He smirked. "Huge mistake. When I opened the door house, I saw him standing in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips waiting for me. I recognized the anger and the rage in his eyes and I understood what was going to happen. The thing was, I couldn't do anything about it. Just let him do it. The thought that he might like to see me react or answer never crossed my mind. " he paused. "But nobody can fool Patrick O' Doyle. I had given up the hockey game and I had lied to him. He slapped me very hard and I hit the wall then fell on the floor. I began to cry. I know I shouldn't have but I was scared. And that was an obvious sign I was weak and different from him. He was so pissed off, he pulled me up on my feet and hit me ... again and again ..." He trailed off and closed his eyes. He tried to swallow the still growing lump in his throat.

"When my mother came back in her turn, she had just enough time to stop him as he was about to kick me another time. They argued loudly. All I remember after that, I woke up in a hospital bed. Three broken ribs, right arm broken and shoulder dislocated, eye-bone shattered, internal bleeding. Patrick O' Doyle is a man of meticulousness." He paused once again. "I stayed a month in the hospital. But I didn't come back home. Instead, my mother took me far away from him. From then we lived in many different cities, always moving so that he couldn't find us."

Sam was shocked. She had never expected such a story. She never would have imagined his childhood would have been so tough. Watching the deepest she could into his eyes, she was submerged by his pain. And by his anger. She saw him swallowed again with difficulty, still not any tears forming. The story was not over.

"Five years and seven months later, we were living in Seattle, I was home when someone knocked at the door. She had taught me to be careful, that my father could be everywhere. I didn't know who it could be but I did know it was not her. When I opened the door and saw the policeman standing there, I immediately understood why he was there ... I was hurting so much, I hardly listened to him. I just remember he talked about a car wreck ..."

His voice was slightly shaking however his gaze remained fixed and dry. As well as remained the lump in his throat, like a fishbone. It hurt as well. Tears began to form in Sam's eyes but she didn't say anything.

"Deep inside I know my father killed her, for betraying him and for protecting me I guess ... as he tried to kill me after that. I buried her then I went away ... again but alone ... I traveled a lot : San Francisco, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Raleigh, smaller towns between and finally Atlanta. We decided to change our name and we took Grant just after leaving Boston, in Lancaster. Anger was tearing me up inside and I began street fighting. I was also tired ... Tired of running away, tired of hiding … and I wanted a revenge. Therefore I entered law enforcement. When the ATF refused me, I entered the Atlanta PD. I had only one goal then, to catch him and so make him pay back. I often thought of killing him. I attended courses at the academy to become marksman. It would have been easy but I realized he wasn't worth my risking my life or a career ... mainly I acknowledged I was not like him. I could see his face on every guy I caught. And I still do sometimes. For a long time it seemed the only reason I was still alive was this obsession of catching him. Then I met Bailey and I met you ..." He trailed off.

To remember all these things was really hard. But somewhat he felt a kind of relief. To talk about it had been very difficult but it also lightened his burden in a way. And it was certainly due to the fact it was Sam he had talked to. John looked down at her face and saw her tears, threatening to spill over her cheeks. They just stared at each other intensely. John waited for Sam to say something - she always had something to say. And Sam knew she had to tell him something. But what ? Something … anything else but that awkward silence which had fallen between them.

"John I ... I don't know what to say ..." Her own voice was then husky, barely hiding her emotions.

His eyebrows raised. "I didn't think I would hear * you * say that one day ..." He quickly became serious again. "You don't have to tell anything. It is the past ... I left all that stuff behind me long ago."

"Are you sure? It seems it still affects you very strongly." Worry could be heard in her words.

"Yeah ... It is not something you can just forget about. But it's okay. I ... I would like to ask you a favor Sam. You know, I've never told anyone before you so ... It's just between us and I would like it to stay in that way, okay? If people were to know, they would change the way they see me, and I don't want them to. You understand?"

"So why did you tell me ?" She asked softly, suddenly anxious to hear his answer.

His gaze deepened in hers. "Because I lo... trust you." He hoped she hadn't noticed his little hesitation and that she hadn't guessed what he was about to confess.

Sam simply nodded her head. She knew how hard it was for John to trust someone. And to confess such a big and intimate part of his life required a person you can blindly trust. Inside her heart, she was thankful and happy he had chosen her.

"Sam ?"

"Mmm ?"

"Why did you come to Boston? You didn't answer me when I asked you. You just say you came to talk to me and … I know a little, at least enough to know that, even if you love to talk to people face to face, you wouldn't have taken a plane - alone - just to talk to me. By the way, talk about what?"

'Talk about what? God, if only I knew ... she thought. She could tell him Coop was gone. She could also tell him she needed him more than the others do. But it was not exactly the right time nor the right place. A small lie couldn't hurt.

"John, we miss you. The VCTF is not the same without you."

Warmth filled his heart at first. But soon he remembered the last weeks he had passed there.

"You don't need me anymore Sam. You seem to work pretty well without me."

Sam wasn't sure but there was a hint of hurt in his voice. '* You * , was he talking about me, just me or the whole team ?' she wondered.

"We need you John." She paused. "I need you" she whispered. She looked up at him grinning. "Nobody teases me or makes me laugh now you're gone. You're my best friend John."

John wished to believe her. Truly. Her best friend, of course, but he did want so much more.

"What about Coop?"

Sam lowered her gaze and bit her bottom lip. Ooops. "Well ... Uh ... He ..."

'Great! Grant, you're a jerk ! Now fix it.' He cut her. "Tell you what? When this whole thing is over, I'll take you to the best restaurant I know here. And then we'll have plenty of time to talk." He proposed, looking directly in her eyes.

She smiled at him. "Sounds good to me."

"Now we should try to get some rest. We'll need it." John said pulling her closer gently.

He mainly would need it. He hid his pain to not worry her more but he was really hurting and he didn't know how long he could be able to bear it. He closed his eyes and fell quickly sound asleep.

Sam let herself be drawn closer. Her heart was beating faster and faster. And yet this time it was not due to the closure of John's body. Her heart was wrapped in fear. Sam knew fairly well how hurt was John and that he wouldn't endure it forever. This had to stop soon. She closed her eyes. She was afraid. Afraid she may not have the time to tell him all she wanted - no, needed to say. Afraid he wouldn't get out of this alive. Even maybe none of them. Her eyes filled with tears and she held him tighter then drifted into sleep.

End of part two