A/N: YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME! This is for the reviewers! Don't get used to this chapter a day, thing, though. I'm making this up as I go.

Sammie closed the door to the back room quietly behind her when she came in to check on John. He was standing next to the shelves containing numerous bottles of liquor. His back was turned away from her, and John's head was resting on the wall.

Sammie heard quiet muttering in a language that sounded similar to Arabic. Slowly she approached him, unsure of how he would react. She made just enough noise so that he would know she was there, but not enough to frighten him into action.

"What do you want, Sammie?" he said in a low voice only a little louder than his Arabic whisperings of moments before.

The woman put her hand tentatively on his shoulder, "To help you."

John snorted, turning toward her, "You don't even know what you're offering, Sammie."

Her clear blue eyes met his dark brown ones with confidence, "Then tell me."

John's eyes held a far off look in them as he said, "Major Hansen was a prisoner with me in Iraq. He found a way to escape after one month and promised to take me with him … he lied."

Sammie's heart clenched as she thought what that meant for the man before her. There was one major thing she knew about him: honor must be upheld above all else – even pride. "How long were you there?" she asked hesitantly.

"Six months." John looked into her eyes, expecting to find pity at the very least. What he saw was nothing that he expected: compassion and love … understanding. "I came back to discover that both my wife and son had committed suicide after hearing the report that I was presumed KIA."

"How old was your son?"

"Ten."

Not knowing anything else to do, the younger woman simply wrapped her arms around him tightly, not letting him go. It took a few moments for John to relax enough in Sammie's arms to lower his head to her shoulder. A few moments after that he just couldn't hold it all in anymore and was sobbing his heart out quietly into her hair and cotton shirt. What surprised him even more than her statements from before was that she didn't pull away once.

"Why are you doing this?" John asked as he pulled away after his tears finally stopped flowing down his face.

Sammie scrunched up her face in a confused expression that John found just absolutely adorable, "Doing what?"

John's face bore an exasperated look, "Being kind to me after what happened. Not showering me with pity or anything like that."

"Why should I? You're still the same man I've worked with for the past two years, John. You still have a good heart, quick wit and amazing kindness that I've never seen in anyone I've ever met before," Sammie prattled off the reasons she had gone over in her mind so many times before. They were the reasons she loved him.

The kiss wasn't meant to happen. Not like that anyway. It was just … she was standing so close; and her skin smelled so faintly of vanilla and strawberries that John's head spun; her arms just felt so good wrapped around him that he couldn't help himself – the gravity drawing their lips together just took over.

A knock on the door pulled them apart from their intimate embrace. Sammie turned toward the door, noticing that whoever was there was being polite enough to not just barge in. She turned back to John, his dark eyes staring at her passionately, hunger evident in them.

She felt her heart beat faster as she starred into his eyes and was confronted with all the emotions he was allowing her to see. She kissed him softly again, "We'll finish this later, John."

John's arms reflexively reached around Sammie's trim waist and pulled her close to him, "When?" he asked, his voice husky.

"How's Tuesday night for you?" she asked as she rested her hands on his muscular shoulders, content to just stay there, staring into his face forever.

"Not soon enough," he whispered in response, letting her go as the person on the other side of the door knocked again, this time more insistent. "You better get that, Sammie."

Sammie opened the door to find a very frightened looking Bobby standing in front of her. "Oh, good, Sammie. I thought your dad was going to tear the place apart waiting for you two to come out."

"My dad?" Sammie asked, confused and yet thrilled at the prospect of seeing her father again after so many years apart. He was still a bit sore over the fact that she had refused to go into the Air Force and opted instead to solely pursue a career as a theoretical astrophysicist working for the Air Force.

At the sound of her voice, Jacob came rushing over, "Sammie!" The usually composed Major General picked up his daughter and swung her around before setting her back on her feet.

While the display of affection was being shared, John walked calmly and composed out of the storage room. Recognition filtered over his face briefly as he realized just who Sammie's father was. John had served under him once … a few years before when they needed someone to go on a suicide mission. Four years ago, right after he got home from Iraq and found his family dead.

"Dad," Sammie grinned, "What are you doing here?"

Jacob smiled warmly at his daughter, his eyes flickering briefly over the other man who'd been in the room with her. Crap, that could be a problem, he thought briefly. "What? Can't a father come watch his only daughter graduate with a Ph.D. from college?"

Sammie cocked her head on one side, "How did you know I was graduating early?"

"Mark told me," Sammie gave him an incredulous look that said she clearly expected him to lie better than that. "Okay, fine! George called me, I called Mark and he confirmed it. Since when have you been on better speaking terms with Mark than with me?"

Now Sammie's look became one of annoyance, "Since I turned fifteen and you decided that I should become a nun," she said matter-of-factly.

None of her co-workers could help it: their Sammie – a nun? It was just too funny! The laughter started in short snorts and developed into cackles and loud rancorous laughter that none could help. It was only fueled by the shade of red Jacob and Sammie's faces had now become.

A/N: Cyber money? I did change stuff with Jack's past - ON PURPOSE. I would not like fifty people reviewing and telling me that he only spent four months in Iraq - I know that.