"I know I haven't been here in a while, guys. I'm sorry. Not that it matters much to you. I know that you're not really here, but it gives me some sort of focal point."
The large gravestone stood solidly in front of her, bearing the names of her parents, their dates of birth and death. A smaller headstone stood next to it. It held her brother's name. The date of death was the same.
Sam lay down on the deep green grass underneath a large oak tree that blocked some of the sunlight from the graves. She took her eyes away from the gravestones and looked at the sky through the tree branches.
"I want you guys to know that I'm okay. I've made some new friends, a couple of them are cops actually," she smiled. "The ones who aren't cops are Harold and John. I kind of work with them sometimes. Harold is very, very smart, and gives good advice.
"John is – well he's – Mom and Dad, you guys would really like him. Dad, he served in the military, helped protect our country after Nine Eleven. And he can basically fire any weapon and drive any vehicle you put in front of him.
"Mom, he's also very honorable, a gentleman, respectful, and he thinks I'm funny." Sam's smile fell off of her face. "I really wish I could talk to you, Mom. Just for a few minutes. See, I left him and the work I helped him with, because – well, because I almost became just like those monsters who took you guys away from me. He stopped me, though – John did."
Sam moved her hand over the grass as she thought. "I was scared. I guess I really did run. I ran away because I couldn't think of anything else to do. But there was nowhere else to go, nowhere else to be. I know that now.
"Mom, I was really helping people. I was literally saving lives. It's something I never thought I could do."
Sam stopped as a shadow fell over her and she looked up. "How long have you been standing there?"
"I just walked up, I swear," John said. "Is this seat taken?" He pointed to the patch of grass next to Sam.
"Knock yourself out."
John sat down so he faced her as she lay there. "How's your head?"
"The doctor said the dizziness would go away eventually. But it hasn't yet, that's why I'm lying down."
"Ceilia Willman is charging the Powells with attempted murder and conspiracy as the top two."
"She won't give it up either."
"No, she won't. And the copy of the will Finch found in the database at the law firm has been deleted."
Sam nodded and kept her eyes on the tree branches above her.
"I also wanted to check on you. Finch thought you'd be here."
"Why?"
"The times a person misses their families the most are Christmas, Easter, and… on their birthday, so I'm told."
Sam sighed. "Easter? Finch needs to stop being so freaking smart. It's not my birthday. I died, remember?" she pointed at the other headstone on the opposite side of her parents'. The name Samantha Tudin was carved into the stone. Samantha Watts was the woman lying on the grass in front of it.
"Legally, yes," John nodded. "Do you want me to go?"
"No, you can stay," she said. "Talking to you is better than talking to myself anyway. That's what I realized when I was gone, you know. I missed talking to you specifically, John. Conversations with you are less stressful than with anyone else, I've discovered."
"Stressful?" John raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah. You listen to me, and then you respond without putting your two cents worth in. Unless I ask for it, that is, or if you think I'm acting stupidly." Sam chuckled then winced at the dull pain in her head. "My point is that I never have to worry about what you think of me. No matter what I tell you."
John nodded in understanding as he looked over Sam at the gravestones. "Happy Birthday," he said quietly.
Sam blinked the tears out of her eyes. They rolled down the sides of her face and into her hair that was spread out underneath her on the grass. "I'm sorry about what I said before, John – 'barefoot and pregnant'. I know that's not you at all."
"It's okay."
"Part of the reason I like you is how you are with women. You're very respectful. You believe that anyone, man or woman, is equally able to take a shot at you."
John laughed. "I did miss you, Sam."
"I know," Sam smiled up at him as she reached into her pocket.
She pulled out a narrow strip of paper. "I knew there were five of these, John." Sam said, looking at the small photographs of herself and John. "When I found you in that cellar, I took out your knife to cut you free. This came out of your pocket with your knife," she handed him the strip of photos. "I didn't look at it. I put it in my pocket and forgot about it until I had to do laundry."
John took the photo strip, never taking his eyes away from Sam. "All of those were in my purse at one point. You took that one didn't you?"
Sam kept her eyes on him and was met with that steely gaze of his that didn't reveal anything below the surface. "That's when I knew for sure that you missed me. But thank you for saying it."
"You're welcome," John replied, slipping the strip into his jacket pocket. "Tell me something, Sam."
"Anything."
"Are you going to run again?"
The weight of that question never lightened, no matter how often he asked it. This time, however, Sam was a little more prepared. "Do you want me to stay?"
Again, John clammed up. His lips thinned and his eyes hardened.
"That's okay. You don't have to answer," Sam said, looking up above her, through the tree branches. "Let me ask you something first. How many times have you been shot doing this job?"
John tilted his head, surprised at the seemingly random question. "I don't really keep track of that."
"It's been a lot though, right?"
Sam reached her hand out to him. John took it and helped her up into a sitting position. They sat next to each other, closely facing one another.
"You've been shot at countless times, and hit several times. Would you say that?"
"Yes."
"Yet here you are," Sam waved her hand at him. "You could have died so many times, John. You've come so close too many times. I've been there for a few of them. And if not that, you could have just quit, given up and left at any time. You could have given up before you started, because of the person you lost."
John looked away from her, but Sam took his hand and scooted a little closer to him. "I could have too. I know you've thought about it because I have too." His sharp blue eyes snapped back to hers as she spoke.
"Everything that could have stopped you, John; all of this stuff that keeps pushing you away – and yet here you are. You come back every single time. Because of all of that, don't you think that maybe, just maybe, you were meant to be here, doing what you're doing?"
"I chose to stay here, Sam," John said.
"I know. Why? Because this is where you think you should be, right? That's what I believe too. You are here because there is no one else. John, you were meant to be this sort of guardian angel for these people who have no one else."
John smiled wryly and let out a soft chuckle. "Angel?" he said sarcastically.
"A fallen angel then," Sam said thoughtfully. "A dark angel. Whatever it is, that's what you are. And that's how people see you whether you like it or not. That's what it is for me too."
"What do you mean?"
Sam's features relaxed as she looked John in the eyes. If she was honest with herself, she would say that she hadn't come to a decision until that very moment. But, right then, she knew solidly as if it had been standing in front of her the entire time. "We've lost a lot, John, you and I. But… I think I know why now."
"Sam," John said seriously. "You haven't gone and found religion on me, have you?"
He was joking, partially. Sam smiled. "No, John. This is just me. And I'm supposed to be here too." She moved even closer to him and lowered her voice. "I won't let you down again. What I said before still stands. You're stuck with me, John Reese. You're not a bad bet. You're a good man who does the right thing, John. Maybe you'll never believe that, but I do."
Sam moved to get up. John took her by the arm and helped her to her feet. "All of that makes you worth the wait." She stood on tip toe and kissed him on the cheek.
"Wait for what?"
Sam smiled knowingly and didn't answer. Instead, she took his arm and leaned a little on him as they walked slowly out of the cemetery.
Note: This last scene was inspired by a song that I recently put on my playlist by Alex Clare. "I Won't Let You Down". To me, it basically defines John and Sam's relationship. There are a couple of other songs like that, but this one really stands out. It does to me, anyway.
Thank you so much for reading and posting your comments and reviews. :)