Disclaimer: I still don't own anything, of course.

Author's note: That will be a little be longer than usual. First: I want to thank you for reading this story and for the reviews. Second: In the next chapters some scenes from John's past will be revealed. This is of course only my version of it and there might be some inconsistensy with the series. However I don't think they made it ever clear what happened with John. But I haven't seen all the episodes. This story is in a way a try-out for me, because in my original story the main character is a young woman who was abused by her father - some scenes come from that story - so I'm open for every critic. Of course that story is written in my native language so it is a bit more neat (at least I hope so!) And a third note: I'm very happy because Nip/Tuck is at last aired in Hungary, I've only seen the first episode, but all I can say is: Wow!

And now on to the story! Read and enjoy. (And review, please...)

Chapter 2

"I'm really sorry, sir, but we have only one vacant room. However we can put in two extra beds for you" said the receptionist, while Bailey groaned loudly. It was a great day!

First they arrived two hours later than planned because of the terrible weather conditions. Because of these same conditions the crime scene was almost useless. They hurried there from the airport but the massive rain washed away almost everything. It seemed even the weather was on Jack's side! Of course Bailey was quite irritated by the time they arrived at the hotel. And now this. Suddenly he felt a gently touch on his shoulder.

"I think it'll be okay!" Sam whispered in his ear. "This is the closest hotel to the PD and they have internet in every room. Maybe there will be another room in the near future" she told louder so that the receptionist could hear it as well.

The young man seemed relieved immediately.

"Yes, m'am. Of course. You know there is a conference in town for internists right now, but it's ending tomorrow. I can give you another room tomorrow evening."

"All right, then. We'll take it" said Bailey gruffly. "And we need two spare beds. And something for dinner."

"Yes, of course, sir. Here's our menu, you can study it until I make your room ready."

"Thanks."

Bailey still felt Sam's hand on his shoulder, and though he was still far from relaxed he felt some of his irritation fading away.

The hotel had a huge hall with comfortable lounge-chairs. John was sitting in one of them, and Bailey now joined him. The younger agent looked tired, but it was natural after spending two hours on the plane and other three on the crime scene in the rain. Bailey of course didn't want him to stay there but they had no other choice after all the local detectives were called to a robbery afoot.

"Are you all right?" asked Sam outrunning Bailey with a second.

"Yes, I'm fine." And he really held on when they were on the scene. Bailey felt that maybe he was a little bit overprotective.

"Where's Grace?"

"She's calling home."

"Okay, the room is ready soon, but I'm afraid we have to stay all in the same room."

John smiled at him.

"I'm sure you counted on something else. Or somebody..."

"Don't be childish! We have work to do!" But he smiled as well, and had to admit to himself that he wanted to spend the night with Sam and without a chaperone, not to mention two. He sighed, and opened the menu.

"So, what would you like for dinner?"

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Their room was ready in fifteen minutes and by the time the receptionist gave them the key Grace had finished her phone-call and joined them. John, on his part, would have liked to stay in the hall, because walking didn't seem to be a tempting option.

However when the others rose he followed them without a frown. He did harder things when he was a child. He would never forget that box-match, for example. How old was he? About fifteen, and he was a member of the high-school's box-team. And he stood six rounds with a broken left hand. This is nothing compared to that. He smiled to himself (however there was really nothing to smile about): in the end he lost, of course, because he was occupied with his hand so much that he got in a left hook. His father wasn't pleased with the result and naturally it never occurred to him that he was the one who broke his son's hand!

But this was past, and now he had other things to worry about. For example avoid Grace's perceptive eyes. He appreciated her worry of course, because it meant that she liked him, just like the others, but it still nerved him. He wasn't made of glass, for goodness' sake!

When Bailey opened the door, it turned out that the room wasn't that bad at all. The stuff conjured a panel that cut the room in two, so they could sleep separated, almost as if they had two rooms.

"See?" told Sam to Bailey. "It's quite okay, isn't it?"

"You are right!" sighed their boss yielding. "I shouldn't be so rude to the receptionist! That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"

It was astonishing how well the two get on. John was glad to see them together as a couple. To be honest he had been a little bit worried that he might have misinterpreted Bailey's signs, and that his interference would only make trouble or worse... But fortunately everything turned out perfect.

In a few minutes they packed out everything they needed: from the files to the notebook, and then gathered around the small coffee table.

"So, what do you think?" asked Bailey.

"To tell the truth, I'm quite at a loss. It's definitely Jack but still everything is so strange. Why here and why now?"

"Does he need a reason?" asked Grace bitterly.

"Yes, he does... He plans everything, and I think for some reason he wanted us here. We just don't know why..."

"And it worries me a lot" put in Bailey.

"You don't have to tell me" smiled Sam sadly.

"Did you recognize how similar the victim was to you?" asked John suddenly looking at Sam and she nodded.

"But so far he killed people who were connected to me, in one way or another and not me, if you know what I mean."

"You might have infuriated him with something" suggested Grace.

Sam shrugged.

"Maybe you haven't paid enough attention to him lately. We haven't worked on his case for about two months or so" said Bailey.

Sam was studying the photos they had taken on scene.

"Do you see anything?"

She shook her head. "Except the fact that John mentioned: the figure, the blond hair, her face... She has a definite resemblance to me, but nothing else. It could be a simple robbery."

"If it weren't for the rose and the message."

"I didn't forget you, Samantha" quoted John.

"As if I could forget this bastard!... Maybe you are right, Bailey. Maybe he just wanted our full attention again. But I'm sure that he is here and he's watching us."

They talked a little more about the case until their dinner arrived, when everybody went quiet. John just fumbled in his food, he didn't feel like eating at all. He felt rather dizzy and his wound was throbbing. After a few minutes he stood up.

"I'll take a shower."

On the way he took out some clothes from his bag and a small bottle. Inside the bathroom he opened the bottle of painkillers that the doctor prescribed him. Until now he didn't take any but now he guessed it was time for it. He has to be at his full strength tomorrow and to that he would need a good night sleep.

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"Do you think he's fine?" asked Sam after John hadn't come out of the bathroom for twenty minutes.

"Hmm?" Bailey was buried in the file again and obviously he didn't recognize everything. Sam on the other hand saw how little John ate and how pale and quiet he was during the evening.

"John."

"Do you think that something wrong? Should I go after him?" asked Bailey worriedly.

"No, no!" she protested quickly. She knew that John would be terribly angry if they started to mother him.

"I knew I shouldn't have let him come with us!"

"Maybe. But I don't think you could have talked him out of it."

In that moment the aforementioned person came out of the bathroom, and Sam quickly suppressed the question on her tongue, and gladly saw that Bailey did the same. John seemed to be refreshed. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

"Didn't you want to go to bed?" asked Grace waving at his dressing.

"I want, but do you think I would sleep in pants when you are in the room?"

"I wouldn't mind at all..." she smiled lopsidedly.

"I didn't even hear that!" he answered with feigned indignation. "From a married woman..."

With that he headed for his bed.

"I think we should go to bed as well. Tomorrow we start with the questioning of the neighbors." Suggested Bailey, and the others agreed enthusiastically. It was a long day for everyone.

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It was about 1 am and Sam still didn't sleep. She was listening to Bailey's steady breathing and was thinking about the problem at hand. Jack. Again and again. Why can't she get rid of him? Yes, of course hiding would be a solution, it had been for a while, but she had to admit (at least to herself) that she was much happier now. He had a new family, had a purpose to live and had Bailey. And even now she felt optimistic: she new that some day they would catch Jack. But still... so many death...

She was staring in the darkness of the room when she heard noises from the other side of the room. She could easily identify the source of it as John. She became more attentive. John was obviously talking in his sleep. She couldn't make out the words and it wasn't loud enough to wake the others up but he definitely didn't have a composed sleep.

Sam got up and tiptoed around the bed. She didn't want to disturb him, she just wanted to be sure that he was okay. John was tossing and turning, the blanket almost fell from the bed and then he suddenly jerked awake. He sat up in the bed with wide eyes, gasping for air. Sam froze in her movement. When John saw her, his eyes got even wider, then got out of bed and rushed to the bathroom.

For a good moment Sam had no idea what she should do. Then she walked to the closed door and quietly knocked.

"John?" she whispered.

There was no answer, still she opened the door and slipped in.

"Are you sick? Need you help?" she asked.

He shook his head.

John was standing at the wash-basin. He had washed his face but was still rather pale.

"Does your wound hurt?"

Again a shake of his head.

"You had a nightmare." It wasn't a question, she was well acquaintanced with nightmares and the situation couldn't be clearer.

John didn't answer and didn't look at her.

"It's normal, you know. Being shot is quite a trauma. And you almost died..."

It started to be nerving that John didn't say a word. He didn't even moved.

"John, you should talk about it. They would ask you about it anyway before you get back your full license and maybe it's better if you start with somebody you know."

John straightened and made a vague movement as if he wanted to flee from the room. But Sam stood in the doorway so there was no way out for him.

"You don't understand." He said lastly.

"Then explain."

He sighed.

"I have no problem with what had happened." Sam looked at him skeptically but this time he didn't react to that. "I'm not scared of being hurt, I never was. Yes, the wound hurts but it's not that bad and I won't be frightened of dark tunnels, either. This whole shooting... maybe you don't believe me, but it didn't traumatize me at all. It happened to me before, you know."

Sam got a little bit confused, she was quite sure that she recognized the problem, but John clearly talked absolutely calm about the incident.

"Then why...?"

"I don't have nightmares about the shooting."

Of course it occurred to her that he didn't say: I don't have nightmares.

"And before you ask, I don't want to talk about this. I assure you I can handle it... I've done it for a while..."

There was this wall again that Sam had experienced before. So she decided to approach it from a different direction.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

John hesitated but then nodded.

"When we are back in Atlanta the Bureau will ask you to go to a session. You will be able to chose a therapist. Could it be me?"

John was obviously surprised and taken aback. There was a long silence and Sam was sure that he would say no, and she already started to draft her arguments. But instead of arguing John asked:

"What do you want to achieve with this?"

"I'll be straight" John looked at her suspiciously but didn't say a word. "I want you to talk about your nightmares."

"I told you it has nothing to do with this... incident and it doesn't influence my work. Or have you ever noticed something?"

"How long have you had those dreams then?" asked Sam a little bit stunned.

John opened his mouth and then closed it, it clearly occurred to him what he had just said.

"They aren't common."

"I'm a profiler. My job is to recognize if somebody lies, so don't even try, John Grant!"

If one could kill with a glare Sam would have collapsed dead on the spot.

"Why do you want to delve in my private life?"

"I just want to help you! I see that something bothers you deeply and I can't close my eyes and walk away. I thought we were friends!"

His face softened a bit.

"Friends help each-other, don't they?" continued Sam. "You, for example, told me how Bailey feels and it really helped me a lot! You can't imagine how happy you made me with that!"

The young agent smiled wanly.

"You won. I'll chose you." told he at last.

"And you'll talk."

"We'll see..."

"Believe me, it's easy if you start..."

"But not for me" he murmured. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

Sam smiled at him. "Yes, of course."

"Good night then."

"Good night."

They both went back to their beds and lied down. For exactly sixteen minutes. That was when the telephone rang and a detective reported that there was another murder.

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