Author's Note: This chapter deals with death, so beware.
Chapter Four
John had eventually, a year -and-a-half later, asked the brilliant Dr. Waters to dinner. Much to his immeasurable surprise, she had accepted. It took him so long because Sam had started dating Nick Cooper from the ATF. When Jack killed Nick out of jealousy, John was Sam's shoulder to cry on. He even spent nights at her house after Jack had left threatening messages and sent bloody letters in the mail. They gradually deepened their friendship into a romance, but only after John thoroughly convinced her that he could handle Jack and Sam came face to face with her demons concerning falling in love again.
Just as Grace had predicted, John and Sam quickly fell deeply in love, after Sam allowed herself to. Reminiscing over the good times, John will always remember the week he and Sam spent at his mountain cabin. It was six days of happiness and joy, six days away from murder and death, but sadly, the last six days of their five-year relationship.
Many times during that week, John had wanted to propose marriage to Sam, but always found a reason not to. It was mostly insecurity that held him back. Sam was a psychologist, a brilliant and beautiful woman. Sometimes he wondered why she loved him. When they had been a part of the FBI's Violent Crimes Task Force, he and Nate had been the grunts; the hired hands used for intimidation, while Sam and Bailey had been the brains. He didn't have a doctorate, or even a college education, having joined the Atlanta Police at eighteen.
Sam told him repeatedly that she didn't care how smart, how rich, or what kind of job he had. She had even written out a list of good points out for him on the drive home from the mountains when he finally got the nerve to ask her why she loved him. Sam's analytical mind produced an extensive list ranging from how he made her feel safe to his love for her to his nice butt and beautiful eyes. Ultimately, he was convinced, and the list didn't matter. It was just the simple fact that she loved him, for whatever reason.
Having blown his chance of proposing at the cabin, John planned to take her out to propose, but was never given the chance. He and Sam returned from the mountains to find Sam's daughter, Chloe, and best friend, Angel, murdered in Sam's FBI protected loft on Magnolia Boulevard, the four agents guarding them also killed.
They turned the corner onto Magnolia laughing, but went silent when they saw the flashing red and blue bubble lights at the end of the boulevard. The VCTF's two white Suburban trucks were in the driveway, surrounded by APD squads and unmarked federal cars, doors open and lights flashing. As Sam and John watched, an ambulance backed up onto the grass, but next to it was the coroner's van.
Sam bounded out the passenger side of John's Explorer before he even had the truck in park and ran to the front door of the loft, which stood open. She ignored the looks of pity and concern in the eyes of the other agents milling around the ground floor of the loft as she made her way to the elevator. The ground floor was Angel's studio; large metal sculptures and works in progress crowded every space. Sam did not wait for John; an officer at the door had waylaid him. John reached the elevator and watched it go up, then down, knowing the scene above was not going to be good.
As he stepped off the elevator, he saw Sam being embraced by Bailey Malone, tears on the usually stoic agent's weathered face. Looking around, John saw too many plainclothes officers and detectives. Remembering the coroner's van, he knew things were bad. John shoved his way through the crowd, making his way to Sam and Bailey. The forensic team had come and gone, and the plainclothes were slowly filing into the elevator, each with a sad expression, some even crying. Bailey had freed Sam and she turned away from him, staring at the floor.
Sam stared at the ground; her large eyes focused on the large pool of crimson blood covering the polished oak of the living room floor. The blood had sneaked into the light blue carpet under the coffee table, ruining its beautiful woven pattern. John reached out a shaking hand to her shoulder, but she sank to the floor, kneeling next to the body. Sam gently lifted the lifeless body of her daughter, staining her white sweater with Chloe's blood. She held Chloe tightly while fresh tears flowed down her pale cheeks. When Sam started to cry uncontrollably, John broke down. His eyes overflowed and he sank down next to Sam, enfolding both she and Chloe in his strong arms. John's tears slowly ebbed, but Sam's continued as she slowly rocked in his arms, holding onto Chloe's body fiercely.
"My baby... he...he killed... my baby..." Sam cried between sobs. Her beautiful face was contorted in pain and sadness, as was John's heart. John turned behind him to Bailey, who nodded. Grace was waiting. Sam felt John's body stiffen and knew it was time to let go.
"Don't, please don't... don't cut them up... we...we know how they... how they, they..." Sam pleaded, trying, but stopped by tears. Grace nodded, her brown eyes crying. Sam released Chloe as she and John stood, both smeared with dark blood. The little body rested on the floor until it was lifted onto a stretcher in a body bag. Sam moved to Angel, who lay in front of the kitchen counter, not far from where Chloe had fallen. Sam's best friend looked as though she were sleeping, her face beautiful and peaceful. Sam kneeled down and brushed a strand of Angel's dark, curly hair away from her pale, cold face, leaving its beauty unmarred. Then, she rose, and ignoring John and Bailey's questions and protests, left the loft, fresh tears stinging her eyes as she blindly made her way to the street.
John felt Bailey's strong grip on his arm as he tried to follow Sam.
"Just let her go. She needs time to handle this her own way."
"But she's not safe alone."
"I don't think she cares."
"Well I do."
"John, there is no doubt in my mind that you don't love her, but you can't help her." Bailey said firmly, "This is how it was with Tom; she'll come back when she's ready."
"Tell me what happened. After you're done, I'm going after her, so start now." John ordered, ready to learn the horrible story. He wanted to be angry so he could forget about the pain in his heart.
He tried to find her, but couldn't. After searching the entire city, he returned to the loft to see Sam there, packing her things into the suitcase for a flight to Europe.
"What are you talking about, Sammy?" John asked, loosening his striped tie.
"I said that I was leaving. It's not your fault, so don't look at me as if I'm blaming you. It's his fault, not yours. Blame him. He's taken them away and I will not wait around for him to take you away, too. By staying here, I'm making you a target. He will kill you if I stay." Sam explained, stuffing clothes into a suitcase.
"I can handle Jack." John told her, watching. His green eyes were sad.
"No you can't!" Sam yelled, her pain and fear getting the better of her as tears spilled from her big eyes. "You can't! He'll kill you…I know he will." The last words were a whisper, barely audible.
"So you're protecting me by hurting us both. We're stronger together. Besides, after you leave, Jack might kill me then come after you."
"That would be better than watching each other die or knowing the other was dead. This way, we can each pretend, we can think, that the other is still alive."
"How will you live? Where will the money come from?"
"I have Tom's pension from the University, his insurance policy, and money from the sale of the farm."
"Will you at least let me know where you are?"
"No."
"Don't you even care, Sammy?" John asked quietly, watching her. Her eyes clouded and her brows knit together. She did not know how to answer.
"Don't you even care about me? I love you." he added, surprised at his own words.
"You can love someone else." Sam replied, her bottom lip quivering. John knew she was lying; she could never tell him to love someone else. Sam had loved before, deeply with all her heart. Love was sacred to her because she knew first hand how easily it could be taken away. She had given John everything, even when she had been scared to do so.
"Don't you care if I hate you?" John asked, grasping at straws, not caring if he made her feel guilty. If she stayed, that wouldn't matter.
"I'd rather you hate me than be dead." Sam replied sadly, their eyes meeting as she finished packing. Walking to John, she reached up and touched his face with her small hand. Their lips came together for one last, gentle kiss.
"I do love you..." Sam whispered. Then, she lifted the suitcase and walked out, the bulletproof iron door clicking closed behind the only woman John had ever given his soul to.
She left him, planning to leave her memories too. He and Bailey had called Chloe's grandparents, Sam's in-laws, as well as Angel's relatives. The double funeral was somber and simple; Chloe and Angel were buried next to Sam's husband Tom. Taking all the responsibility onto his shoulders for burying her daughter, John had been angry with Sam. Then he realized that watching another person whom she loved so much being laid to rest would push Sam over the edge.
Sam's flight had left emptiness in his heart that he filled the only way he knew how: work. Without their top profiler, Bailey Malone's Task Force fell apart. Sam had been the best; Bailey had formed it around her. The replacement Bailey tried to bring in just wasn't up to par and cases weren't being closed. The FBI dissolved the Task Force, sending its members onto reassignments or giving them the option of retirement. John, Grace, and George, their computer specialist, retired and returned to their old jobs with the Atlanta Police while Nate and Bailey remained with the FBI. Bailey stayed in Atlanta, becoming the Atlanta Field Office's Special Agent in Charge while Nate transferred to New York.
The Violent Crimes Task Force had been Bailey's dream, an elite team of specialized agents investigating violent serial criminals, but without a high closure rate, he couldn't persuade the government to keep allocating funds. The field office continued the Jack-of-all-trades case.
Jack-of-all-trades' main signature was that he killed mostly people Sam knew, or had known. Her childhood pediatrician, community librarian, the man who lived next door to her when she was a child, a woman who had been in a ballet class with her when she was nine, her second grade school teacher. The other victims were strangers, but each provided a clue to Jack's past.
He had targeted every member of the team at least once, but John received special treatment. Jack burned John's apartment building to the ground, kidnapped him, shot him, and sent him letters dripping with blood. Bailey had been framed for the murder of a young waitress, Nate had been pinned under his classic car while fixing its transmission, George had been threatened and Grace's husband, Morgan, had been hung by his ankles right over a filled bathtub while an electrical current snaked its way into the rapidly rising water.
The team made a lot of progress; even finding Jack's home, but never caught up to him. They had come close on several occasions, Sam even shot him once, but in the end, he had escaped. After Chloe and Angel's deaths, Jack stopped killing, probably because Sam had disappeared.
Sam had sent John birthday and Christmas cards, but on every envelope, there was never a return address. One card was always post-marked from a different town, always one that John had never heard of and could never find on a map; or even sometimes even pronounce.
The cards let John know that Sam was still alive, but she never knew if her cards were ever received. She traveled Europe with only her small suitcase, a pack, and a camera, reviving her old hobby of photography. In Venice, she decided to develop her film, all black and white, and was confronted by dark images of loneliness. The world's most famous landmarks, even pictures of crowds teeming with life, all seemed sad to Sam. It was then, two years after leaving, that she decided to go back.
Sam showed up at the APD, not sure if John was even there.
Chapter Four
John had eventually, a year -and-a-half later, asked the brilliant Dr. Waters to dinner. Much to his immeasurable surprise, she had accepted. It took him so long because Sam had started dating Nick Cooper from the ATF. When Jack killed Nick out of jealousy, John was Sam's shoulder to cry on. He even spent nights at her house after Jack had left threatening messages and sent bloody letters in the mail. They gradually deepened their friendship into a romance, but only after John thoroughly convinced her that he could handle Jack and Sam came face to face with her demons concerning falling in love again.
Just as Grace had predicted, John and Sam quickly fell deeply in love, after Sam allowed herself to. Reminiscing over the good times, John will always remember the week he and Sam spent at his mountain cabin. It was six days of happiness and joy, six days away from murder and death, but sadly, the last six days of their five-year relationship.
Many times during that week, John had wanted to propose marriage to Sam, but always found a reason not to. It was mostly insecurity that held him back. Sam was a psychologist, a brilliant and beautiful woman. Sometimes he wondered why she loved him. When they had been a part of the FBI's Violent Crimes Task Force, he and Nate had been the grunts; the hired hands used for intimidation, while Sam and Bailey had been the brains. He didn't have a doctorate, or even a college education, having joined the Atlanta Police at eighteen.
Sam told him repeatedly that she didn't care how smart, how rich, or what kind of job he had. She had even written out a list of good points out for him on the drive home from the mountains when he finally got the nerve to ask her why she loved him. Sam's analytical mind produced an extensive list ranging from how he made her feel safe to his love for her to his nice butt and beautiful eyes. Ultimately, he was convinced, and the list didn't matter. It was just the simple fact that she loved him, for whatever reason.
Having blown his chance of proposing at the cabin, John planned to take her out to propose, but was never given the chance. He and Sam returned from the mountains to find Sam's daughter, Chloe, and best friend, Angel, murdered in Sam's FBI protected loft on Magnolia Boulevard, the four agents guarding them also killed.
They turned the corner onto Magnolia laughing, but went silent when they saw the flashing red and blue bubble lights at the end of the boulevard. The VCTF's two white Suburban trucks were in the driveway, surrounded by APD squads and unmarked federal cars, doors open and lights flashing. As Sam and John watched, an ambulance backed up onto the grass, but next to it was the coroner's van.
Sam bounded out the passenger side of John's Explorer before he even had the truck in park and ran to the front door of the loft, which stood open. She ignored the looks of pity and concern in the eyes of the other agents milling around the ground floor of the loft as she made her way to the elevator. The ground floor was Angel's studio; large metal sculptures and works in progress crowded every space. Sam did not wait for John; an officer at the door had waylaid him. John reached the elevator and watched it go up, then down, knowing the scene above was not going to be good.
As he stepped off the elevator, he saw Sam being embraced by Bailey Malone, tears on the usually stoic agent's weathered face. Looking around, John saw too many plainclothes officers and detectives. Remembering the coroner's van, he knew things were bad. John shoved his way through the crowd, making his way to Sam and Bailey. The forensic team had come and gone, and the plainclothes were slowly filing into the elevator, each with a sad expression, some even crying. Bailey had freed Sam and she turned away from him, staring at the floor.
Sam stared at the ground; her large eyes focused on the large pool of crimson blood covering the polished oak of the living room floor. The blood had sneaked into the light blue carpet under the coffee table, ruining its beautiful woven pattern. John reached out a shaking hand to her shoulder, but she sank to the floor, kneeling next to the body. Sam gently lifted the lifeless body of her daughter, staining her white sweater with Chloe's blood. She held Chloe tightly while fresh tears flowed down her pale cheeks. When Sam started to cry uncontrollably, John broke down. His eyes overflowed and he sank down next to Sam, enfolding both she and Chloe in his strong arms. John's tears slowly ebbed, but Sam's continued as she slowly rocked in his arms, holding onto Chloe's body fiercely.
"My baby... he...he killed... my baby..." Sam cried between sobs. Her beautiful face was contorted in pain and sadness, as was John's heart. John turned behind him to Bailey, who nodded. Grace was waiting. Sam felt John's body stiffen and knew it was time to let go.
"Don't, please don't... don't cut them up... we...we know how they... how they, they..." Sam pleaded, trying, but stopped by tears. Grace nodded, her brown eyes crying. Sam released Chloe as she and John stood, both smeared with dark blood. The little body rested on the floor until it was lifted onto a stretcher in a body bag. Sam moved to Angel, who lay in front of the kitchen counter, not far from where Chloe had fallen. Sam's best friend looked as though she were sleeping, her face beautiful and peaceful. Sam kneeled down and brushed a strand of Angel's dark, curly hair away from her pale, cold face, leaving its beauty unmarred. Then, she rose, and ignoring John and Bailey's questions and protests, left the loft, fresh tears stinging her eyes as she blindly made her way to the street.
John felt Bailey's strong grip on his arm as he tried to follow Sam.
"Just let her go. She needs time to handle this her own way."
"But she's not safe alone."
"I don't think she cares."
"Well I do."
"John, there is no doubt in my mind that you don't love her, but you can't help her." Bailey said firmly, "This is how it was with Tom; she'll come back when she's ready."
"Tell me what happened. After you're done, I'm going after her, so start now." John ordered, ready to learn the horrible story. He wanted to be angry so he could forget about the pain in his heart.
He tried to find her, but couldn't. After searching the entire city, he returned to the loft to see Sam there, packing her things into the suitcase for a flight to Europe.
"What are you talking about, Sammy?" John asked, loosening his striped tie.
"I said that I was leaving. It's not your fault, so don't look at me as if I'm blaming you. It's his fault, not yours. Blame him. He's taken them away and I will not wait around for him to take you away, too. By staying here, I'm making you a target. He will kill you if I stay." Sam explained, stuffing clothes into a suitcase.
"I can handle Jack." John told her, watching. His green eyes were sad.
"No you can't!" Sam yelled, her pain and fear getting the better of her as tears spilled from her big eyes. "You can't! He'll kill you…I know he will." The last words were a whisper, barely audible.
"So you're protecting me by hurting us both. We're stronger together. Besides, after you leave, Jack might kill me then come after you."
"That would be better than watching each other die or knowing the other was dead. This way, we can each pretend, we can think, that the other is still alive."
"How will you live? Where will the money come from?"
"I have Tom's pension from the University, his insurance policy, and money from the sale of the farm."
"Will you at least let me know where you are?"
"No."
"Don't you even care, Sammy?" John asked quietly, watching her. Her eyes clouded and her brows knit together. She did not know how to answer.
"Don't you even care about me? I love you." he added, surprised at his own words.
"You can love someone else." Sam replied, her bottom lip quivering. John knew she was lying; she could never tell him to love someone else. Sam had loved before, deeply with all her heart. Love was sacred to her because she knew first hand how easily it could be taken away. She had given John everything, even when she had been scared to do so.
"Don't you care if I hate you?" John asked, grasping at straws, not caring if he made her feel guilty. If she stayed, that wouldn't matter.
"I'd rather you hate me than be dead." Sam replied sadly, their eyes meeting as she finished packing. Walking to John, she reached up and touched his face with her small hand. Their lips came together for one last, gentle kiss.
"I do love you..." Sam whispered. Then, she lifted the suitcase and walked out, the bulletproof iron door clicking closed behind the only woman John had ever given his soul to.
She left him, planning to leave her memories too. He and Bailey had called Chloe's grandparents, Sam's in-laws, as well as Angel's relatives. The double funeral was somber and simple; Chloe and Angel were buried next to Sam's husband Tom. Taking all the responsibility onto his shoulders for burying her daughter, John had been angry with Sam. Then he realized that watching another person whom she loved so much being laid to rest would push Sam over the edge.
Sam's flight had left emptiness in his heart that he filled the only way he knew how: work. Without their top profiler, Bailey Malone's Task Force fell apart. Sam had been the best; Bailey had formed it around her. The replacement Bailey tried to bring in just wasn't up to par and cases weren't being closed. The FBI dissolved the Task Force, sending its members onto reassignments or giving them the option of retirement. John, Grace, and George, their computer specialist, retired and returned to their old jobs with the Atlanta Police while Nate and Bailey remained with the FBI. Bailey stayed in Atlanta, becoming the Atlanta Field Office's Special Agent in Charge while Nate transferred to New York.
The Violent Crimes Task Force had been Bailey's dream, an elite team of specialized agents investigating violent serial criminals, but without a high closure rate, he couldn't persuade the government to keep allocating funds. The field office continued the Jack-of-all-trades case.
Jack-of-all-trades' main signature was that he killed mostly people Sam knew, or had known. Her childhood pediatrician, community librarian, the man who lived next door to her when she was a child, a woman who had been in a ballet class with her when she was nine, her second grade school teacher. The other victims were strangers, but each provided a clue to Jack's past.
He had targeted every member of the team at least once, but John received special treatment. Jack burned John's apartment building to the ground, kidnapped him, shot him, and sent him letters dripping with blood. Bailey had been framed for the murder of a young waitress, Nate had been pinned under his classic car while fixing its transmission, George had been threatened and Grace's husband, Morgan, had been hung by his ankles right over a filled bathtub while an electrical current snaked its way into the rapidly rising water.
The team made a lot of progress; even finding Jack's home, but never caught up to him. They had come close on several occasions, Sam even shot him once, but in the end, he had escaped. After Chloe and Angel's deaths, Jack stopped killing, probably because Sam had disappeared.
Sam had sent John birthday and Christmas cards, but on every envelope, there was never a return address. One card was always post-marked from a different town, always one that John had never heard of and could never find on a map; or even sometimes even pronounce.
The cards let John know that Sam was still alive, but she never knew if her cards were ever received. She traveled Europe with only her small suitcase, a pack, and a camera, reviving her old hobby of photography. In Venice, she decided to develop her film, all black and white, and was confronted by dark images of loneliness. The world's most famous landmarks, even pictures of crowds teeming with life, all seemed sad to Sam. It was then, two years after leaving, that she decided to go back.
Sam showed up at the APD, not sure if John was even there.