I'LL BE HERE ALWAYS
By AussieHottieMjM

DISCLAIMER
I unfortunately do not own Profiler or any of the characters. I am merely a shameless fangirl who is distraught by the abrupt end of the show, and must naturally continue it through fic. ;)

RATING
This fic is rated K+ for adult situations, like the use of alcohol.

SYNOPSIS
Rachel seeks comfort one year after Danny's death.

SETTING
The story takes place one year after Danny has been killed.

AUTHOR'S NOTE
This is the first one shot I've ever written. One can tell because it seems rushed, underdeveloped, and disorganised compared to my more recent ones.

x x x

John Grant woke with a start. Beads of cold sweat formed over his brow and along his temples. He was wondering if this nightmare that had awoken him at four in the morning could really have been just a nightmare. 'That felt so real,' he thought. There was a pounding at the door, soon followed by a holler. "John!" he had heard through the door.

John slowly picked himself up from his couch. He couldn't remember much, but what he did remember was getting drunk and passing out on his living room couch. And now, as a migraine tortured his head, he walked very slowly to the door. "John," someone had yelled again.

"Coming," he replied as loud as he could muster; his voice was very hoarse because of his dry throat, and it seemed like every movement made his head hurt worse. He opened the door, and there stood the one and only Rachel Burke. "It's four freaking a.m. Some of us like to sleep! What the hell do you want at this hour?"

"Oh, and here I thought you'd be sarcastic," she scoffed. John raised an eyebrow; he had closed both his eyes – it had been very dim in his apartment, but the hall lights were blaring. "Can I come in?" she asked after a few moments. He took two steps slowly to the side, clearing her pathway. "You look like hell, John."

"I feel right as rain." A moment of silence followed after John had closed the door behind her. He had reopened his eyes by now; and though his appearance was scruffy and worn, his beautiful blues never ceased to shine. She smirked.

"You're hung over."

"Just a bit," he said casually. "Now what do you want?"

"Company." Small wrinkles overtook her forehead, and tears threatened to fall from her eyes.

"What's wrong?" John asked sincerely.

"It's been a year." John wasn't sure what she was talking about at first, but realization struck at the perfect moment. He wrapped his arms around her, hushing her and telling her everything would be okay.

She fought to speak through her tears. "I miss Danny so much, John. It's not the same without him."

"You're still grieving, Rach. You may be depressed for awhile," he tried to explain. "It can take years for people to get over deaths of family members." He paused, tightening his hold a little. "I'm glad you came to me," he whispered.

She sighed. "I didn't know who else to go to." John moved them slowly, as if dancing to a deaf music. It seemed to calm her down a little – dancing in place. She moved her arms around his neck, her face still buried in his shirt. "I'm sorry for waking you."

A small smile formed on John's lips. "I was already awake. I guess it's just easier to unleash frustration on others." She gripped him a little tighter; he noticed. "I had been scared awake." She lifted her head just enough to gaze into his eyes, a cute confused look in her eye. "Nightmare."

"Aren't you a little too old to be having those?" Rachel questioned jokingly.

"Well from what you always tell me, I'd say that I'm entitled to nightmares when I'm five."

"You act five, but that doesn't mean you are five."

"You should've clarified that before I had the nightmare," he told in an amusing voice. She cracked a smile. It helped him know he was helping. "Did you want to talk about... Danny?" He wasn't sure if she wanted to or not, so he wasn't positive if he should ask. 'But she's a big girl. She can handle it.'

She sighed. She knew she should, and she also knew that she could trust John. The problem wasn't talking about it, it was finding the right words to explain how she felt. "I want to but... I don't know how to explain it."

"I understand what you mean," he said. "When my mother died..." he paused. "I thought it was the end of the world. I didn't eat, didn't sleep. I thought that I'd never be happy again. I started closing myself off from others as a defense mechanism to never get hurt, started repressing my feelings. I was living in denial, and it hurt me a whole lot more than I realized then, at the time." Rachel knew that his mother had died when he was around seventeen, but never had he even mentioned her, and she didn't exactly know what had happened. "After the denial, I started using sarcasm along with never letting people in. Having a lot of dry humor made people think I was this arrogant ass, and they didn't want to get close to me – which made my repression a whole lot easier to do." He looked into her eyes, and she noticed he was near brink of falling apart. "You're handling this all wrong, Rach." His deep concern for her touched her heart, but it was still an awkward moment.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice shaky – she was reaching breaking point as well.

"You're compensating, you're throwing yourself into your work, and you're shutting yourself off. You can't keep others away," he said. "Trust me. Your friends, your family – they're what's gonna keep you sane. And I wish I had known that when I was a teenager. Because, by God, I would've let someone in." He walked her to the couch. His head was still pounding, but he pushed it aside. Rachel needed him.

She lay in his arms, basking in the feeling of completeness. She tried her best to piece what she was feeling. "It's like... the only time I feel even close to good, is when I'm with you... and earlier tonight... I couldn't get Danny out of my head. And I felt it was my fault," – she was now crying between every few words, and John tried his best to keep her as calm as possible – "I feel so guilty... like his death was my fault. And I don't want to feel this way. I don't want to feel... empty."

John took his thumb and wiped each cheek, concern clear printed over his face. He planted a soft kiss on her cheek, but didn't pull away. His lips next to her ear, he whispered as many words of comfort and encouragement he could think of. John pulled away slightly, reaching to get the blanket draped over the back of his couch. He wrapped it around them, holding her in his arms, and the last thing Rachel heard before drifting to sleep was "I promise, I'll never leave you, and I'll be here always... if you need me."

Rachel slowly opened her eyes to see beautiful blues looking right back at her. "Did you sleep well?" he whispered. A smile had formed on her lips, and she nodded in reply. "I'm glad," he said a little louder. "You feeling okay?" She nodded again. "I called Bailey and told him that we wouldn't be coming to work today, I reminded him about Danny, and I told him that I'd be looking after you." To his surprise, her smile didn't fade at the mention of Danny. In fact, it seemed to have grown, and he wondered if it was because he was caring for her. "So, it's about one o'clock – what do you want to eat?"

"What do you have?" she asked, a hint of sleep still present in her voice.

"Uh... pretty much... nothing," he replied honestly. She let out a small laugh, and it made him feel better as well. "So where do you want to go to eat?"

"You asking me out on a date?" The smile faded from his lips. 'Am I asking her out on a date?' She noticed the sudden change in his attitude. She had meant it as a joke of sort, but realized that it probably wasn't the best question to ask. Especially since – though she'd never really admit it – that she had a bit of a crush on him, and occasionally thought he liked her back.

"Yes," he answered, his smile reappearing. "I am asking you out on a date."

She smiled in return. She didn't mind admitting her feelings if he did first. "How about the Flying Biscuit Café?"

"Sounds delicious," he replied. She got up off the couch and headed towards the bathroom to clean herself up a bit. She noticed John had already shaved as well as change his clothes. He must've taken a shower, too, because he smelled a hell of a lot better than last night. Besides, Vodka and Scent of John never made a great combination.

"And John," she began. He turned toward her, raising his eyebrows in the process. "Thanks... for being there for me."

"Rach," he started. "I'll be here always... if you need me."