Disclaimer: I don't own Profiler. I'm in no way connected to the show.

Author's Note: I just wrote this story today, and wanted to see if anybody would like it.  I'm not sure if I'm going to continue.  It depends on what you think.

Will you Take Care of Me?

Great, I'm late.  Sam's gonna kill me.  I can't have her mad at me if I'm gonna tell her.  How is she going to react?  How can I tell her?  There's so much to say, but most of all there's 'I love you.' 

            Yes, It's true.  I, John Grant, love Samantha Waters.  I wasn't prepared for this.  It wasn't supposed to happen.  I wasn't supposed to fall in love with anyone, especially Sam. 

            Here I am, driving.  Driving to the restaurant to have dinner with her.  This night, those three little words, are going to change my life.  This is either going to be the best night ever, or the worst.  It's all up to her.  Her reaction is going to decide.  She either loves me, or she doesn't. 

            I'm almost there.  The closer I get, the more nervous I get.  This is my last chance to chicken out.  Right now I have to decide.  I take a deep breath.  I'm going to do it.

            I turn onto the street.  As I pull up to the restaurant, I see commotion everywhere.  What the hell is going on?  Why are the police and ambulance here?  I stop the car and get out.  I run to the sight and push my way through the crowd.  I flash my badge to the officer.  It's times like these I'm glad I have it.

            That's when it happens.  Time seems to slow down.  I feel like my heart stopped.  I can't breathe.  This can't happen.  Not tonight.  Not ever.  Everything spins around me.  I rub my eyes, but it's still there.  I pinch myself, but I don't wake up. 

            I stutter "No," then I scream it.  I run over to her.  An officer tries to hold me back, but I throw his arms off me.  I fall to my knees in front of her.  I grab her by the shoulders and pull her upper body to my chest.  I run a hand through her blonde hair.  More tears fall down my face.

            "Oh God, Sam.  No, Sam.  You can't be dead.  You can't die."  I kiss her on the forehead and then set her down gently.  It's not fair.

            "What the hell happened to her?" I ask the man in front of me.

            "The guy was holding the restaurant hostage.  The lady,"

            I interrupt him, "Sam."

            "Sam.  Sam was in there and she tried to reason with him.  He ended up shooting her, and then he killed himself.  She got him to…"

            I didn't want to hear anymore.  I walk away.  I see men putting Sam on a stretcher.  I walk over and ask them if I could have a minute alone.

            I never got to tell her.  I put it off, and now it's too late.  Why didn't I tell her at work today instead of asking her out to dinner to talk about something important?  She could've been alive if I just had told her there, but no.  I had to chicken out and wait to tell her.  It's all my fault.  She didn't deserve to die. 

            Her hands are so cold.  They are placed in mine.  I raise them and bring my face to them.  I close my eyes and cry.  I look up at the sky and scream out, "No!"

            "We have to take her now, sir.  I'm sorry."

            I want to snap back at him, 'No you're not,' but I hold it in.  I let them take her.  I stay kneeled on the ground.  Tears flow down my face, and I reach for my phone.

            "Bailey, it's, it's John."

            "What's up?  John?  John, are you okay?  It sounds like you're crying."

            "She's dead, Bailey.  Sh-she-she's dead."

            "What?  Who?"

            "Sam's dead.  It's Sam."