Last Minute Substitute

 

Normal, Sam thought irritably. Everything seemed so... normal. She wasn't quite sure why that should bother her. In this job normal days were rare. The caseload was light. The paperwork was no worse than usual. It should have felt like a holiday. Somehow, though, the blandness of it all just seemed to annoy her. She looked up as John scattered his notes across the end of the table.

"Don’t you have a desk somewhere?" George asked him, pushing the sliding pile of papers away from his computer.

"Somewhere."

"It’s probably just buried under the paperwork for the Henderson report that he hasn’t gotten around to turning in yet," Marcus said as he walked by.

John ignored him as he began sorting through the mound of files. Sam watched him for a moment, until she noticed what she was doing. The last few weeks had been normal with John, too. She and Chloe had gone to a couple more of his hockey games. He had looked after Chloe one Saturday afternoon while she and Angel had run errands. They ate lunch together nearly every day. Yes, things were normal with John. And that, she realized, was the problem.

Things shouldn’t be normal with John. She had kissed him… on Christmas… on purpose. Her daughter had insisted that they hang mistletoe and it was inevitable, she supposed that she had ended up beneath it with John. The resulting kiss had been… eye-opening. Then Coop had phoned, John had fled, and Sam was left feeling baffled by both of them. Coop had assumed every thing was normal. John had pretended everything was normal. And Sam was sick and tired of normal.

She wasn't sure what he had read into that kiss, but she was certain that it had frightened him. It probably didn't help that anyone she got involved with tended to become the target of an insane serial killer. John would probably call that redundant, she thought. Still, it would make anyone think twice and it wasn’t as if John needed any more excuses to back away from her.

It didn’t take a psychologist to diagnose that he was terrified of commitment. He was good at keeping his personal life to himself, and what little she had overheard during the past couple of years amounted to not much more than a string of one-night stands. His relationship with Angel, lasting almost a month, had apparently been his version of long-term. Past experience had convinced him that allowing himself to become attached to someone was merely setting himself up for the inevitable pain of loss. Every important relationship in his life had ended abruptly and disastrously. It was no wonder he was reluctant to reach out to anyone else.

Acknowledging their kiss, Sam knew, could potentially destabilize their friendship. She was afraid to risk losing that friendship by pushing him into more than he was ready to confront. If he was forced to admit that he felt anything serious for her right now she was almost certain that he would try to shut her out to protect himself.

So, she hadn’t brought it up. She hadn’t mentioned the New Year’s Eve kiss, either.

*******

Three days after Christmas the VCTF had been called out to Nevada on a case. The trail of the killer had led them hopping around the southwest for several days but they had finally tracked him down in Utah. None of them had much time that week to even think about New Year’s Eve plans. It was just as well. The Bureau’s seemingly random budgetary cuts meant the team would have to take a commercial flight back to Atlanta and air traffic control had conspired against them. They would miss midnight in every time zone.

Sam had noticed Marcus and Grace shuffling through the tickets in the terminal and wondered what they were up to this time. When they boarded the plane she wasn't terribly surprised when John dropped into the seat next to hers. She didn’t know whether to be grateful that her colleagues were giving her a chance to spend a little time with him or strangle them for meddling. She more than half-suspected that Grace knew exactly what was going on. The only real question was whether she was John’s confidante or if she had merely put together a few pieces on her own. Either way Sam had a feeling that the pathologist had a better view of the big picture than she did.

Sam watched in sympathy as John tried to get comfortable in the compact seat. She knew that this was the part he hated most about flying. Finally he had sighed in resignation and turned to face her.

"How long is this flight, again?"

"About four and half hours. At least you have an aisle seat."

He gave her an aggrieved look. At that moment a stewardess with an armful of pillows came down the narrow walkway hitting the back of John’s head with the thin foam. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Sam tried not to laugh.

"An aisle seat," he said, not opening his eyes. "Great." He folded his arms and sighed again wearily.

Sam turned to the window and watched tiny lights wink far beneath the plane. Eventually John’s slow, even breathing told her he had managed to nod off. The man can fall asleep anywhere, she thought enviously. Despite the silence between them, there was something reassuring about having him beside her. Without meaning to she dozed off, as well. Sometime later a half-heard cockpit announcement partially roused her. She noted sleepily that she was leaning against John's shoulder but it didn’t occur to her to move away from him. She felt him shift slightly and was surprised to feel the soft pressure of his lips against her forehead.

"Happy New Year, Sam" she heard him say softly. "Eastern Standard Time."

She buried her smile at both his gesture and the addendum. Despite his tough exterior she knew the truth. He had a wide sentimental streak. He shifted in the cramped seat again and didn't say another word the rest of the flight. Like singing lullabies to Chloe, Sam knew this wasn’t something he would talk about later.

She had been right. He hadn’t admitted to anything since then, so she hadn’t said anything either.

*******

John stared irritably at his notes scattered across the briefing table. Yes, he had a desk. Yes, it was so piled up with half-filled-out forms that he couldn’t find a pen. Yes, Sam was at the briefing table. Not that he’d noticed until he got here. Yeah, right.

Sometimes it felt like he didn’t do anything except notice her. It was making him crazy. He just couldn’t figure out her angle. She’d brought Chloe to every hockey game he’d played in for the past five weeks. She’d let him take care of Chloe one afternoon. They worked together every day. They talked about cases and co-workers and politics and the weather in Bermuda. But never, ever, ever had they talked about … the kiss.

He still wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t conned her into it. It had to have been the Christmas spirit, he thought. There wasn’t any other good reason for her to have gone along with it. Mistletoe had been his excuse and she had let him. It had been better than the scam they had tried to pull on Jack and this time there was no one standing over his shoulder reminding him that it was just a ruse. Sam had actually seemed into it… until the phone rang. He had seen her guilty, embarrassed expression and fled.

But she hadn’t gone on a date with Coop since then.

He’d watched for a month and a half and she had turned down every invitation Coop had made since he got back from D.C. That seemed like a pretty good sign. Good enough that he had started thinking that maybe he might try asking her out himself. No time like the present, he had finally decided. He’d ask her out when they went to lunch today. Sort of. If he invited Chloe along, too, it might not look exactly like a date and she might actually agree to come. So it was a little lame. It was also his best chance. His attention was drawn back to the table as Coop walked in. He scowled as the ATF agent sat down beside Sam.

"Hey, Sam," Coop said. "How’s it going?"

"Fine. I thought you were supposed to be at our 8:30 briefing?"

"Security problem with my key card," he shrugged. "Did you miss me?"

Yeah, John thought with bitter humor. But I’m working on my aim.

Sam merely smiled vaguely. "Marcus can fill you in."

"So," Coop asked her, "any big plans for Valentine’s Day?"

Valentine’s Day? John looked down at the date wheel in his watch. Damn, Johnny, he thought, you are really going to have to start keeping better track of these holidays.

"No, not really," Sam answered slowly.

If he didn’t know better, John would have thought she sounded disappointed. He caught the quick glance she threw in his direction and wondered what it was supposed to mean. She couldn’t be thinking about accepting Coop’s invitation today. Not after he had finally decided to try. That would be cruel.

Or just his luck.

"A beautiful woman with no date for Valentine’s Day?" Coop asked. "What’s wrong with the guys down here?" He paused to study her for a moment. "Well, Sam," he said, "if you don’t have anything else planned, how about dinner with me?"

Sam looked almost ready to say no. John had a moment of hope but Coop began to push.

"Come on, Sammy. I’m starting to think you don’t like me anymore," he teased.

Now, there’s a cheery thought, John mused.

"Just dinner," Coop pressed. "Anywhere you want." He dropped his head and blinked up at her with nauseating charm. "Please?"

Damn, but Coop was annoying. At George’s sharp look John realized that a noise suspiciously similar to a growl was coming from his own throat. He clamped down on it immediately, but the frustration that had inspired it didn’t go away.

"Why not?" Sam said suddenly.

No! John protested silently. Two more hours, Sam. That's all I needed. Just until lunch. Why today?

"But I can’t," she changed her mind abruptly and John began to breathe again. "Chloe. Angel is going out with Alex and it’s far too late to find an agent willing to baby-sit on Valentine’s Day…"

"Grant can do it. Can’t you?" Coop turned to him and smiled broadly.

John stared, almost impressed by how neatly Coop had trapped him. If he said he couldn’t look after Chloe because he had other plans there was no way he could come back and ask Sam out without looking like a complete jerk. Besides, if he said no Coop would just end up spending the evening at the firehouse anyway. On the other hand, saying yes was as good as telling Sam that he was okay with her dating Coop. Damned if you do; damned if you don’t, he thought. It just wasn’t fair.

If John said no, Coop would get what he wanted. If he said yes, Coop would get what he wanted. But at least he’d get to spend time with Chloe. And maybe get a minute or two to try talking to Sam. It was better than nothing, he supposed. Half a meal?

More like a couple of French fries.

"Sure," he heard himself saying. It’s official, Johnny, he thought. You have completely lost your mind.

***********

Sam glanced at the clock. She had a few more minutes. It had taken her an uncharacteristically long time to decide what to wear tonight. She wasn’t quite sure what sort of impression she wanted to give. It wasn’t as if she and Coop had started dating again. They hadn’t gone out since she had kissed John. Not that Coop had any idea about that.

She was slightly worried about her reasons for accepting Coop’s invitation now. Part of her had enjoyed the sudden, unmistakable flare of jealousy she’d seen in John’s eyes. He had looked miserable. It had obviously been killing him to go along with this. She had a hard time understanding why Coop had put him in such an awkward position. She had an even harder time understanding why John had let him.

She had finally settled on a simple dress that didn’t say much of anything and yanked on the zipper as the elevator buzzed. Probably Coop, a little early. Seems like we’ve done this before, she thought. When she walked into the living room, however, it was John who was stretched out on the floor with Chloe setting up a board game.

"Hi," he said. There was a wistful twist in his smile as he looked up at her. "You look nice."

"I haven’t finished yet." At his disbelieving grin she added self-consciously, "Jewelry… and my hair…"

"Of course. What was I thinking?" He turned to Chloe. "She’s an absolute mess, isn’t she?"

Sam shook her head at his teasing and went back to her room. She was straightening the clasp on her necklace when the phone rang.

"Sammy?"

"Coop?" This can’t be good, she thought.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

"Barely. You sound like you’re at the bottom of a well."

"Close," he said. "Well, not close. I’m at the airport…"

"What?"

"There’s this bomb situation in Little Rock… Sammy, I’m sorry. This is such lousy timing. I’ll make it up to…"

"Coop?" The line turned to static then went dead. Like my date, she thought as she took the necklace off again. After a moment’s consideration she took the dress off, too, and pulled on a pair of jeans and an old flannel shirt. If she was going to be spending the evening lounging on the sofa she might as well be comfortable. She doubted John and Chloe would mind her informality. If John stayed, that is…

John gave her a very puzzled look when she walked back into the living room. He turned to Chloe again. "Does that look like jewelry to you?"

Chloe giggled. "Nope."

"Did we miss something?"

Sam shook her head. "Coop called. Apparently there was a bomb threat in Little Rock." She sat down on the sofa. "He can’t make it. So, I guess we really don’t need a baby-sitter after all." She watched his expression flash from concern, to hope, to disappointment. Chloe interrupted her reflections.

"But we already ordered pizza," she protested. "He has to stay. And we were going to watch ‘Muppet Treasure Island’…"

Sam turned back to John.

"It’s a pretty funny movie," he said with a sheepish grin. "But it’s on Disney. They play it every two weeks. We can watch it some other time." He stood. It was obvious that he expected to be told to leave and just as obvious that he didn’t want to go.

Sam shrugged. She knew it wouldn’t take much to convince him to stay. "You know perfectly well that no self-respecting Waters is going to even touch that half of the pizza with anchovies on it. If you don’t stay it will just go to waste." She watched John’s smile flare brightly for a moment before he smothered it. She wondered if they were feeling the same sudden twinge of guilt over being happy about a bomb threat.

*********