Sam walked into the ice-skating rink wondering how Chloe had talked her into this on a school-night. She had been surprised this morning when Chloe had handed her a crumpled sheet of paper and asked if they could go. Sam had looked at the paper for several moments before deciphering it. It was a schedule of some sort, for a team apparently called the "Ice Holes". The typed sheet was a blurry photocopy of this season's games, and there was indeed a game listed for that night.

"I got it when John took me skating a couple of weeks ago. He plays for them."

"Plays what?" Sam asked, more than a little confused.

"Hockey."

"Chloe, did he invite you to come to this game?"

Chloe kicked at her bookbag. "Not really. I got the schedule while he was talking to this guy, another player, I think. Can't we just go and surprise him?"

Sam had agreed to think about it and they would talk in the afternoon.

It didn't really surprise her that John was into hockey. The man seemed to love sports of any kind. Hockey wasn't a major southern sport, but growing up in Boston, she realized, he probably had ample opportunity to learn the game. Now that she thought about it, she could vaguely recall his mentioning something about buying a new stick not long after she had first met him. It hadn't seemed particularly relevant to anything at the time, but she had filed it away anyhow.

As they staked out a spot in the meager bleachers Sam realized that she knew even less about hockey than she did about football. It was only the warm-up and she was already lost. The conversations of the other spectators seated nearby might as well have been in another language. Even the phrase "on the fly", a term she thought she knew, made no sense in the context they were using it.

She scanned the rink trying to determine which of the moving blurs was John. They were apparently a low budget team. There were no names on the backs of the jerseys.

"Number 25." Chloe said with assurance. Following her pointing finger, Sam finally saw him. Even at this distance she could tell that he was laughing. He seemed to be very at ease and more than comfortable on skates. There was a gracefulness about his movements that she could guess would probably vanish as the game began. She didn't know much about hockey, but she was fairly certain that it wasn't graceful. John never looked toward the stands and she was positive he had no idea they were there.

Sam watched the game in bafflement. Most of the time she couldn't even find the puck. She had no idea what position John was supposed to be playing and couldn't keep track of him most of the time either. Chloe, on the other hand, cheered enthusiastically along with the rest of the small crowd as if she understood what was going on.

"We watched a couple of games on TV when we had the chicken pox," Chloe said. "He explained some of it to me then."

"So, what's icing?"

Chloe looked at her blankly then shrugged and turned back to the game. Sam located John again and winced as he was shoved against the low wall circling the rink.

"Shouldn't that be some kind of foul?" Chloe didn't answer, but the girl sitting on the other side of Sam laughed.

"You haven't been to many games, have you?" she asked. "That wasn't even close to being a penalty."

Sam gave the girl a rueful look. "To tell the truth, this is the first game I've ever been to. I guess I'm pretty lost. Would you mind...?"

"No problem," the girl replied. "What do you want to know?"

"How about icing?"

"Sure, start with something simple," she laughed.

The girl, who had introduced herself as Connie answered a few of Sam's more basic questions, corrected some of her terminology, and pointed out her brother.

"Number 15. He's why I come to these games. They aren't exactly the NHL, but they're fun to watch."

Sam absorbed every word. With Connie's help, the game was almost starting to make sense. Almost.

"Number 37, he's an accountant downtown. Got a great slapshot," Connie told her. "He's their high-scorer. Then there’s number 25, right there," she said, pointing at John, "he's a cop or something."

Curiosity got the better of Sam. It occurred to her that she didn't know any of John's friends outside the FBI. Was he different with them? Did they see a side of him she didn't get to see? She had to know what this girl thought of him.

"Is he any good?"

Connie shrugged. "He can't shoot worth a damn and his passing sucks, but then that's why he's a defenseman. He's fast and he hits like a train. And off-ice," she turned to grin at Sam, "he's gorgeous. Bluest eyes you’ve ever seen." Something in Sam's face must have tipped her off because the girl's grin broadened. "But I guess you’d know that. He's the one you're here to see, isn't he?"

Sam wondered what made Connie draw that conclusion. She didn't think she had shown any more interest in John than in any other player Connie had described. Still, maybe the girl had seen something of her envy. It bothered Sam to realize that she didn't like other people knowing things about John that she didn't know.

*************

John saw them as soon as they walked in. The Ice Holes were a rec team. Nobody but friends and family ever came to their games. Sam and Chloe stood out like red flags. To tell the truth, though, John would bet that he could probably pick them out of a crowd at the Georgia Dome. They took a spot in the sparsely occupied bleachers near Bryan’s sister. He hoped the girl was in a generous mood because he knew Sam would be clueless and full of questions. He wondered briefly if Sam had ever even heard of Gretzky.

"Who’s the blonde?" Bryan asked as he skated up.

"What’re you asking me for? Why should I know?"

"Because I’ve already asked everybody else. A little defensive tonight, aren’t we, Johnny?" Bryan grinned. "So, who is she?"

John shook his head, knowing he’d walked right into that one. "It’s Sam. Don’t get any ideas," he added as Bryan started to say something else. "We work together. That’s it."

"Sam? She’s Chloe’s mom?" He looked at John impishly. "Just work, huh? Whatever you say, man. Whatever you say."

John sighed inwardly. He was never going to hear the end of this, he was sure.

As the game progressed he caught a glimpse or two of Sam and Chloe. They seemed to be enjoying the game so he figured Connie must have explained at least a few things to Sam. He realized that he had let them distract him and refocused his attention on the game just in time to skate right into an offensive player’s upraised stick. The shaft scraped along his jaw, digging deeply. He got in a good shove before the whistle blew, but the damage was done. He could already see the blood on his jersey. He skated to the bench as the other player went to the box. He tried not to smile as he wiped the blood away. It looked worse than it felt and it gave the Ice Holes a man-advantage.

************

Sam was on her feet as soon as she saw the blood.

"They can’t do that!" she protested.

"Good call!" Connie shouted beside her. Sam turned to gape at her.

"Good call?"

"Sure. High-sticking is a normally a two-minute minor. With injury it’s a five-minute major and now they have a power play. He’s not that hurt," she said, finally realizing that Sam’s concerns were for John, not the team.

Baffled and unconvinced, Sam sat down again. She really didn’t understand the appeal of this game. It was even more violent than football and twice as confusing. She had to admit that John didn’t seem too badly injured, though, as he returned to the ice a few minutes later. Changing on the fly, she thought proudly. One of the terms Connie had taught her.

She jumped suddenly as her pager went off. She dug it out of her purse and saw a summons to call the VCTF. Keeping one eye on Chloe, she moved to the edge of the bleachers to phone the office. George answered on the first ring.

"Hey, Sam. Yeah, we’ve got another possible lead up in Wisconsin. Bailey wants you guys back on site ASAP… What’s all that noise?" he asked curiously. "Where are you, anyway?"

"Parkaire," she said. "The ice-rink."

"Oh, that’s right. It is Thursday, isn’t it? That would explain why John hasn’t checked in yet. How are they doing?"

"What?"

"The Ice Holes. They play on Thursdays." He paused. "That is why you’re there, isn’t it? John’s game?"

If he already knew they were playing, there wasn’t any point pretending that wasn’t why she was here. "Yes," she admitted, "but I don’t know how they’re doing. Chloe wanted to come and I guess she knows what’s going on, but I really couldn’t tell you."

‘"Okay, let me think. If you face the ice there should be a scoreboard at the far end on the right." He waited for her to locate it. "The Ice Holes’ score will probably be the low number."

"Alright," Sam said hesitantly. "I think the score is four to three."

"How much time is left? If it isn’t too much, maybe you won’t have to pull him out of the game."

"Four minutes, thirty-two seconds."

"What period?"

"What?"

"What per…" George sighed wearily. "Uh, how many long breaks have they had?"

"Two, I think."

"So it’s probably the third period. Let him play. Just don’t let him goof around afterwards."

*************

John couldn’t hide his grin as he headed off the ice. They’d lost. That was nothing new. Seeing Sam and Chloe after the game was a novelty, though. He palmed the top of Chloe’s head with his glove and gave it a good rub. She laughed and hugged him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her.

"We were in the neighborhood."

"Smart aleck. I’m a really bad influence, aren’t I?" He grinned unrepentantly at her mother.

"Terrible. If she spends much more time with you I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand either of you." She smiled at them both. "I hate to break this up," she said, "but Chloe needs to be home in bed and we should be heading to Wisconsin."

"Wisconsin?" John scowled. "Again? It’s already twenty below up there. It should be illegal to commit murder in Wisconsin in December." He looked positively disgusted.

"John," Sam said in amusement, "it’s always illegal to commit murder in Wisconsin."

He chuckled, realizing his complaint did sound rather ridiculous. "You know what I mean." He shrugged. "Guess I’ll be seeing you in a little while. ‘Night, Chloe. Thanks for coming."

"It was fun," Chloe told him. "Mom was completely lost."

"Chloe," Sam sighed and looked back at John. "George said to tell you not to goof off. See you in a little while."

****************

Sam was distracted by the sudden scent of soap and fresh-scrubbed skin. She turned to see John drop into the chair beside her.

"You could have at least dried your hair," she said quietly. "You’ll catch pneumonia in this weather."

"Can’t have that," he replied. "Not after I’ve already been accused of getting sick and or shot just to get attention. Do stitches count?"

Sam looked at the narrow but nasty-looking scratch along the edge of his jaw. "That was a … high-stick?" She hoped she got the term right. He smiled.

"You were paying attention."

"It doesn’t need stitches. You’ll live." She hoped she managed to hide the concern she felt earlier. It wouldn’t do to let him think she’d been worried about him.

"You’re all heart, Sam." He fingered the cut almost absently. "So, how’d Chloe talk you into coming on a school-night?"

"By not telling me that it would last until 10:30."

"So, what was the final?" George asked as he arrived at the table with Grace. They’d picked up coffee and extra cups for the rest of the team.

"Five-three." John grimaced. "We lost."

"Big surprise," was George’s dry response. "Did you manage to stay out of the box?"

"What do you think?" he grinned "It was a bad call, though. I barely touched him. The guy dived."

"Barely touched him?" Sam said. "John Grant, if even I managed to see you knock that poor man down you probably deserved a… major."

John stared at her in surprise. She worried briefly that she had used the wrong word. Then it dawned on her that she had just admitted to being at his game. Obviously George already knew. Grace seemed to take it in stride.

"Sam, the way they play," she said, "he would have to take someone’s head off to get a major."

Sam was a little surprised to realize that Grace had apparently seen John play, too. Then again, Grace, George, and Nathan had all been part of the Atlanta police force along with John several years ago. Sometimes Sam forgot that most of the rest of the team had a history together that had nothing to do with the VCTF or her. Deciding that there was nothing else to do but forge on she turned back to John.

"You practically gave him a concussion."

He shrugged. "That’s why we wear helmets."

"Have you learned how to shoot yet?" Grace asked him. She turned to Sam. "They’ve lost every game I’ve ever seen them play. I believe John’s style is called ‘can’t-shoot-to-save-his-life’ hockey."

"I play defense," he protested. "I don’t have to be able to shoot."

"Speaking of shooting," Bailey’s gravelly voice interrupted. "Could we get back to the case now, people?"

Sam tried to ignore the peculiar look Coop was giving her from across the table. She had a feeling they would be discussing this later.

*****************

"Didn't know you were into hockey, Sam." Coop sat on the edge of her desk. There was a tightness in his voice that didn't bode well for the conversation to follow.

"I'm not, really. Chloe wanted to go."

"You're letting her spend too much time with him." Neither of them needed to name "him". John had become the central topic of a distressingly large number of their discussions lately.

"She likes him," Sam said. "Since she has to spend so much time in the company of FBI agents anyway, at least it can be with one she likes."

"One she likes," he repeated. "That’s the problem. It's dangerous, Sammy." He stood and scowled down at her. "Everywhere she goes, even to school, at least three agents are guarding her. At the firehouse there are four. But when John's around... you let her go anywhere with him and there's no back-up. How safe is that? Do you really trust him that much?"

Sam was startled to realize that the accusation was true. When John took Chloe somewhere she didn't think twice about letting them go alone. Did she really trust him that much? She stared past Coop as she tried to sort through her own unconscious rationalizations. Was she putting her daughter at risk?

She wasn’t sure why she held such a double standard. She trusted the agents assigned to protect Chloe because that was their job. She knew that very little could get past a team of well-trained agents determined to do their duty. But she trusted John alone just as much as she trusted an entire team of other agents. She trusted John with Chloe’s life because… Her mind refused to make any logical connections. She trusted John because she trusted him. She knew John was capable of doing whatever was necessary to protect Chloe. She also knew somehow that if he were ever placed in an impossible situation where nothing he did would be enough to protect her he would either attempt the impossible or be willing to die trying. It frightened her to realize just how much faith she had in him.

She saw that Coop was still staring at her, waiting for an answer.

"Yes," she said simply. "I do."

Coop's expression was utterly exasperated as he turned and all but stomped out of her office. She watched him go with mixed emotions. She cared for him deeply, maybe even loved him, but she knew that if he ever asked to take Chloe anywhere they would have the full escort. That admission puzzled her. It occurred to her only briefly to wonder how she could be so sure about John and so uncertain about Coop. She pushed the thought away, unwilling to face the conclusion at the end of that line of reasoning.

****************

"Mom?"

Sam looked up to see Chloe leaning on the bedroom doorframe. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Can we go ice-skating after dinner tonight?"

Sam studied her suspiciously. "John doesn’t have another game tonight, does he?"

"No, ma’am. Today’s Tuesday. They only play on Thursdays. Can we go? I want to show you how I skate. Please?"

Sam caved at the hopeful expression on her daughter’s face. "Alright. But we can’t stay too late. It is a school night."

 

At Chloe’s insistence and against her better judgement, Sam had paid for two pairs of skate rentals. She didn’t know what she had been thinking, but she quickly realized that she had no business being out on the ice. She clung to the wall as she watched Chloe skate in confident circles, proudly showing her mother what John had taught her. She was impressed with how much Chloe had learned in just a few visits. John must be a pretty good teacher, she thought. She tried to move toward the exit gate as clusters of small children flew past her. She optimistically thought she might actually make it without falling. Unfortunately, her skate caught a gouge in the ice as another group of jostling kids swirled around her. As she began to flail wildly a strong arm arrested her fall.

"You really have no idea what you’re doing out here, do you?"

She turned to see John’s grinning face inches from her own.

"Chloe said you didn’t have a game tonight." She realized as she said it that it was a rather irrelevant comment. He laughed.

"We don’t. It’s Tuesday. We rent the rink for a couple of hours after they close to get in some practice time."

"Chloe knows that?" She realized that she already knew the answer. Chloe had set this up quite expertly.

"Probably. So, what are you doing here, anyway?"

She frowned at him in mock indignation. "You think you’re the only person who can take my daughter ice-skating?"

"I think it looks like I’m the only one who should," he laughed again. "You’re going to break something out here, Sam. Bend at the knees, not the waist," he instructed. After several minutes of coaching he shook his head. "You have no sense of balance," he finally decided. "None whatsoever."

"I know," she admitted. "This is ridiculous. Help me over to the side, would you?"

"You can’t give up, Mom," Chloe said as she skated up. "John can teach you."

John looked skeptical. "I think this will take a little more than one simple lesson, Chlo."

"Please. Teach her. It’ll be fun, Mom. Just try."

"I don’t know…"

"Fine, Chloe," John interrupted. "Just a couple more minutes. They’re about to close anyhow."

Satisfied that her mother was going to try again, Chloe darted away to get in a few more laps.

"John, this is hopeless," Sam began.

"I know," he grinned. ‘"You are *really* not good at this."

She scowled at him. "So, can I go sit down now?"

"Nope. Just hang on. If Chloe thinks you’re skating she’ll be happy. Humor her."

Sam had to laugh at his reasoning and his scheme. She let him lead her around the rink, bluffing the lesson. She was more than a little envious of his skill. He made it look effortless and as he pulled her along he made it look like she knew what she was doing, too. After a couple of turns around the rink, though, she began to wonder if it was his presence that made it seem easier or if she was actually starting to get the hang of skating. She wasn’t confident enough to let go and find out.

**************

He had wondered what Chloe was up too as soon as he had driven into the parking lot and seen Sam’s four-by-four. It might have been just a coincidence that they showed up on practice night, but somehow he doubted it. He had dumped his gear in the locker room and gone to check out the ice. Chloe saw him immediately and came to sit beside him as he pulled on his skates.

"You have to teach her," she had pleaded. "I mean, just look at her. She needs you to help her."

John had looked. And had admitted that she did need help.

As Sam clung desperately to his arm he was suddenly very glad he had come early tonight. It was nice to be needed, even for something as simple and silly as ice-skating lessons. And there were a few things he had been wanting to get off his chest but hadn’t been able to find the right time to say.

"Sam?" he began. "Did I ever thank you for inviting me to dinner on Thanksgiving?"

"Of course, you did." She sounded surprised that he would even ask.

"Good." He nodded but wasn’t sure it was enough. "Because I don’t really remember. I left kind of… I just wanted to make sure you knew…" It wasn’t coming out as smoothly as he had hoped, but he had started and he would have to go on. "Holidays have been kind of… nonexistent for me for a while," he tried to explain. "I just wanted to thank you for… making it a holiday, I guess. It was nice." It was nice? You sound like a moron, he told himself. Nice?

His heart skipped as she looked up at him and smiled. Her grip on his arm tightened in a gesture that had nothing to do with her balance.

"Then we’re even," she said. "You helped make it a holiday for us, too. I meant what I said. I’m glad you came. You do realize that you’re invited for Christmas, too, right?"

He stared at her. She seemed to mistake his silence as a prelude to a refusal.

"Unless you have other plans…"

"No," he said quickly. "It’s just… Two holidays in one year? I think it may be a new record for me."

"Then you’re coming." Her tone brooked no argument and he wasn’t about to try.

 

Sam was surprised to realize that she was disappointed when the lights flickered, indicating the rink’s imminent closing. It had been nice to get a chance to talk with John outside the office. It also got the Christmas invitation out of the way. He had given in much more easily than he had for Thanksgiving. She wasn’t quite sure why it was so important to her that he not spend the holiday alone. She simply knew that he was a friend and that he deserved better.

John escorted her to the edge of the ice and then picked up Chloe in a bear hug. She heard him whisper something to her before he set her down on the carpet. It sounded a little like he called her a conniving rat. She had laughed and returned his hug tightly. As they went to turn in their skates, Sam thought she recognized a couple of the players from John’s team. The one she thought might be Connie’s brother approached them. He patted Chloe’s head and called her by name. Chloe smiled and shrugged at her mother.

 

"Why didn’t you say they had practice tonight?" Sam asked as they drove home.

"You didn’t ask that. You asked if they had a game." Chloe’s grin was obvious even in the darkness.

Both the grin and the logic suggested John’s influence. Sam sighed.

"So, did you have fun, Mom? Isn’t John a good teacher?"

"Yes," she had to smile. "It was fun. And you really are turning into quite a skater."

Chloe beamed silently for a few minutes. Then a thought apparently occurred to her. "Can we go to the game on Thursday?"

"We’ll see."

 

*****

"Lost Scene"

"You'll never guess who I sat with at the game."

"Chloe's mom."

Connie punched him. "Okay, so you knew. Did he say anything about her?"

Bryan shook his head. "Not much. Now that we can identify her I think he figures we'd harass him about her or something."

"Us? Harass John about a woman?" Her eyes widened in overacted innocence. "We'd never do anything like that. She did seem pretty nice," she continued more seriously. "Doesn’t know a thing about hockey, though. You should have seen her when he caught that high-stick. She was so worried it wasn't funny. But she swears they're 'just friends'." She rolled her eyes.

"That was pretty much John's riff, too. I don't know who he thinks he's kidding. All you have to do is listen to him talk about her. Chloe says she thinks they're going to invite him for Christmas."

"Chloe adores him," Connie smiled. "He'd make a great dad. I think that's what she's hoping for."

"Well, she's sure trying hard enough. What do you bet they make it to most of the rest of this season's games?"

"No bet," she grinned. "They'll be there."

* * * * * *

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