Odd-Man Out

"Oh," Sam said suddenly as she pulled a sheet of paper out of her stack of files. "Did everybody get this memo from Bailey about Thanksgiving holidays?"

George glanced at John just in time to see his smile flicker for an instant. "Yeah," he said. "I think so. He sent it a couple of days ago." He wasn’t really surprised when John abruptly pushed away from the table and stood.

"I’m going to go check on Grace. See how that autopsy is coming."

Sam stared after him then turned to George. "Was it something I said?"

George shrugged. "Maybe." He wondered how she could have such insight into the criminal mind but be completely at a loss when it came to the people closest to her. "Let me ask you something," he said. "Do you know what John did for Thanksgiving last year?" Sam shook her head. "How about last Christmas? Any idea?"

"No, not really."

"Exactly. Nobody does." He paused, trying to decide how to continue. "Holidays are about family," he said finally. "And John’s a one-of-a-kind. He’s not an O’Doyle anymore. There never were any Grants. His grandfather, the one who left him the land, is the only member of his mother’s family I’ve ever heard of and he’s … well, he’s dead, obviously." He shrugged again. "As far as anybody can tell, John just doesn’t do holidays anymore."

Sam looked down the hallway where he had vanished.

"Good luck," George said. He could already guess what she was thinking. "In the five years that I’ve known him he’s turned down every offer Grace has made and only had Thanksgiving dinner with Nathan and Michelle once. I’m telling you, he just doesn’t do holidays."

As Sam continued to stare thoughtfully down the hallway George felt a spark of hope. If anybody could talk John out his semi-self-imposed exile it would be Sam. It would take a lot of work, he knew. John was stubborn and proud, but George had a feeling that he was also a little lonely. If Sam put enough pressure on him there was a good chance he might not spend this Thanksgiving alone. Here’s hoping Sam plays tough, George thought.

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

John stood in the firehouse garage staring at the elevator door and trying to convince himself that he wasn’t procrastinating. He still couldn’t figure out why Sam had bothered to invite him and he still didn’t know why he had agreed to come. He was just setting himself up for a miserable afternoon of watching Coop hang all over her. Things were still pretty awkward with Angel and spending time with his boss wasn’t really high on his list of entertaining ways to spend a holiday. To top it all off, Bailey’s daughter, Frances would probably be there and to be honest, the girl scared the hell out of him. Oh, yeah, he thought, this is gonna be lots of fun. He took a deep breath and stepped into the elevator. It seemed a little ironic that the car rose. A descent felt somehow more appropriate.

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

Sam looked up when she heard the elevator. That has to be John, she thought. Everyone else is here. She smiled at his surprised expression when Chloe threw herself at him before he was two steps into the apartment.

"Looks like he’s won the heart of at least one Waters." She jumped at Angel’s voice beside her.

"What? Oh. She does seem to like him doesn’t she?"

"Like him?" Angel wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders. "Sam, that girl adores him."

Watching the delight on Chloe’s face as John danced with her to music only the two of them heard, Sam had to admit that Angel was right. She knew they had grown close during their shared illness last month but she was surprised by the endurance of their bond. More than a couple of times over the past few weeks John and Chloe had gone ice-skating or to the movies or just out for pizza. Chloe loved the attention and John seemed to enjoy the company. His pleasure in these simple activities made Sam wonder yet again what his own childhood had been like.

As Chloe pulled him into the living room his smiled dimmed ever so slightly. He stood awkwardly as Chloe introduced him to Angel’s new boyfriend, Alex, a fellow teacher. It was obviously something he hadn’t expected. His smile faltered a little more and Sam felt a twinge of doubt. For an instant she saw the room through his eyes and it occurred to her that she might have done more harm than good by inviting him. He was surrounded by people who could make him very uncomfortable and it wasn’t as though he was happy about the holiday to begin with. She watched his gaze skip from person to person, seeing the pain or aggravation each one caused him reflected in his eyes. Her heart went out to him as his fingers unconsciously stretched toward his one unconditional support. He visibly relaxed when Chloe slipped her hand into his.

"’Bout time you got here, Grant. Thought you might have decided on Chinese take-out, but I guess they’re closed today, huh?" Coop’s words made Sam cringe. She had hoped the two men would be able to make it through the afternoon without sniping at each other too much. It looked like she may have been overly optimistic.

John smiled as he spoke, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Nope, it’s open till midnight. Same as Christmas."

"Now that everybody is here," Sam interrupted, hoping to forestall any more conflict, "dinner is ready."

"I made namecards for everyone," Chloe said as they began moving toward the dining room. "You have to sit where your name is."

Coop frowned at John. He couldn’t figure out why Sam had bothered to invite the guy. It wasn’t like he was family. He wasn’t dating Angel anymore, either. She ought to stop encouraging him to keep hanging around. Coop’s frown deepened as Chloe took John’s hand. He’s just confusing the kid, Coop thought irritably. Maybe that’s why Sam invited him. To keep Chloe occupied so the grown-ups could talk. He took a little comfort in that line of reasoning and followed them to the table.

John grinned at his card. Chloe had drawn a pair of ice-skates beside his name. The placement of the card bothered him, though. Between Chloe and Frances. At least they don’t have a kids’ table, he thought. He groaned inwardly as Angel took the seat directly opposite his. She sat between Alex and Coop. Sam and Bailey were at the table’s head and foot respectively.

"These are great, Chloe!" Coop said as he turned his card to show everyone his ant.

"Is this a picture of my hat?" Bailey asked her with a smile.

"Yeah."

"Chloe…"

"Yes, sir," she amended at her mother’s admonishment. She turned to Frances next. "I didn’t know what to draw for you," she apologized, "so I drew you a cat. Is that okay?"

"That’s fine. It’s really cute."

"Bailey?" Sam asked. "Would you mind saying grace?"

Bailey nodded. His prayer was simple but heartfelt.

"Lord, thank you for this day with our families and friends to remember all that You have done for us. Bless this food and the hands that have prepared it. Guide us and protect us. Keep us safe as we walk in the darkness. Guard our hearts and our lives. Give us the strength and courage to do what must be done. Amen."

John opened his eyes to find Chloe looking at him curiously.

"What did you just do?"

The gesture had been so reflexive that it took him a moment to realize what she was asking.

"I’m Catholic." It wasn’t exactly an answer, but he thought it might suffice.

"Mom’s Catholic and she doesn’t do that," she said, still studying him.

John looked over her head at Sam. His own beliefs were murky enough. He didn’t have a clue about how to explain Sam’s practices, or lack thereof. Unfortunately, Sam was engaged in a conversation with Coop and offered no help whatsoever. He looked back at Chloe and shrugged. "It’s something I was taught to do when I finished praying."

"Oh," she nodded. "So, you’re Catholic." She frowned slightly at him while she committed that fact to memory. The expression was so typical of Sam that he had to smile. He knew she would probably remember his religious persuasion ever after but doubted that she was really satisfied with his explanation. He was relieved when she picked up a bowl of cranberry sauce and dropped her line of inquiry.

The meal was one of the best Thanksgiving spreads he’d ever seen although, to be honest, his holiday dinners for eight out of the past ten years had been cooked in his microwave. As for the other two years, well… Michelle cooked like a Cajun and his old college girlfriend hadn’t been able to boil water. Sam and Angel certainly seemed to know what they were doing. Though he was enjoying the food, the conversation was a different matter. As Coop began to tell some ridiculous story John tried not to scowl at his plate.

Sam smiled at her guests. Thanksgiving had always been her favorite holiday. This year was the first time in several years that it finally felt right again. After Tom died the holidays had lost most of their meaning for her. She had tried to celebrate for Chloe’s sake but something had been lacking. Surrounded by friends and "chosen-family" Sam felt a warmth that she had missed for so long. She listened to the stories of other Thanksgivings and the accompanying laughter and felt the pressures of her job and her impossible life lighten just a little. Only one thing nagged at her. John.

Although his seat was in the middle of the table the conversation eddied around him as if he wasn’t there. He made no effort to comment on anyone’s anecdote or share any of his own. Sam suspected that he simply had no frame of reference for most of the discussion. While the others were recounting tales of family traditions, sibling pranks, and special memories John seemed to be concentrating on avoiding direct eye contact with anybody. She could sense the isolation he felt and his rising restlessness. The problem was being compounded by the fact that everyone else seemed to sense his discontent as well. As a result, they were all either consciously or unconsciously avoiding drawing him into any conversation. She wished there was something she could do to make him more comfortable, but she really couldn’t think of any safe topic, either. She watched him flinch almost imperceptibly and heard the laughter of the others. Apparently Coop had made a joke. Apparently she had missed it.

Bailey felt honored that Sam had invited him to Thanksgiving dinner and pleased that she had included Frannie in the invitation. He had not really been looking forward to spending the holiday alone with his difficult and troublesome daughter. Their Thanksgiving meal would probably have been argumentative and awkward. Not that things weren’t a bit awkward here, he thought. He looked around the table and his gaze rested on the most unlikely of the guests. He could understand why Sam had invited John, but he wasn’t entirely certain about the wisdom of it. True, Chloe was delighted, but no one else seemed particularly comfortable with the situation. In fact, Coop seemed downright annoyed and Bailey couldn’t really blame him. John’s attraction to Sam was one of the worst kept secrets in the VCTF. To make matters worse, Sam wasn’t exactly discouraging him. At times she even seemed to be more protective of him than mere friendship required. Like now, for instance. Bailey could see the worry in her eyes as she watched him. Her concern was understandable. John was all but radiating agitation. He was as uneasy about being there as the others were about having him. Alex, on the other hand, seemed unnecessarily edgy. John and Angel’s unfortunate romance had ended badly and there was very little chance of it ever resuming. Still, Alex appeared to be slightly, albeit needlessly wary of John. Bailey couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for him. It wasn’t an easy position to be in.

At last the meal was finished. Sam and Angel insisted on pushing their guests into the living room where a football game promptly appeared on the television. At a small glare from her father Frances joined the clean-up crew with a creditable amount of enthusiasm. Bailey stretched comfortably in one of the armchairs and began to watch a tiny drama with interest. Chloe stood hesitantly in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, obviously torn between the two. At last she took few steps toward the living room and was faced with another decision. Bailey watched her blue eyes dart back and forth between Coop’s chair and the sofa where John sat. He stifled a smile as she drew a deep breath and let it out decisively. The girl approached the sofa and leaned on the arm until John looked up. Without a word John shifted his position. Chloe climbed into his lap with equal silence and settled against his shoulder. Bailey’s experienced eye told him that the child would be asleep in less than twenty minutes. He glanced at Coop and saw that the other man hadn’t missed Chloe’s choice. He could tell that Coop wanted to say something but he wasn't sure how to do it without sounding petty.

Bailey wasn't all that surprised by Chloe's attachment to John. Children seemed instinctively at ease with the younger agent. In those rare, horrible cases where the VCTF had to deal with minors John was one of the few officials that the children would talk to. Bailey suspected that they probably recognized something in the back of his eyes; the trauma of a child who had seen it all and survived. He suspected that Chloe saw something similar. They had a lot in common.

Then again, he thought as Frannie dropped onto the sofa next to John, who knew what they saw?

"So," Frances said, "what's with you today? You're awfully quiet. Don't you have a dysfunctional family somewhere that ought to be making you miserable?"

John shook his head. "They're perfectly happy to harass me long-distance."

Bailey wondered at his words. Was John just trying to give Frannie the brush-off or was there something going on with the O'Doyles that he should know about?

"Where are they?"

"Up north," he said vaguely.

"Boston," Chloe clarified, lifting her head. To his credit, Bailey didn’t gape. He realized that it probably wasn't that big a deal, but John volunteered so little about his family it seemed odd Chloe had gathered that much.

"Boston, huh?" Frances said. "That explains the accent."

John frowned at her. "What accent?" Both Frances and Chloe laughed.

Then Frances sobered a little and spoke softly. Bailey strained to hear.

"Um, John? About all that stuff, you know...?" She looked down. A red flush crept over her face. "I'm sorry... about everything."

John sat quietly for a moment, staring at the top of her head. "It's okay," he said finally. "It's been a rough year all the way around."

Frances looked up and offered a hesitant smile. "So... we're cool?"

"Yeah. I guess we are." He shrugged and Chloe shifted in his arms.

John leaned back on the sofa and settled Chloe more comfortably in his lap. He hoped that being "cool" with Frances didn't mean she'd start landing on his doorstep at three in the morning again. He could guess by the glare in Bailey's eyes that her father was thinking the same thing. He tried to ignore Sam when she came in but out of the corner of his eye he still saw. She sat on the arm of Coop’s chair, leaning into him. They laughed together at something he didn’t hear. He felt a tug at his shirt and looked down to see that Chloe had knotted a fistful of it in her hand. She sighed and slowly went limp. Despite his frustration John had to smile. There was just something about having a child asleep in your arms that was soothing. He turned back to the television set and tried to lose himself in the game as quiet conversation swirled around him again.

Sometime during the third quarter he realized that Angel and Alex had left for a little time alone. Frances looked bored stiff and Bailey was all but asleep. Coop seemed to be trying to smother a scowl of impatience. Sam just looked weary.

"Remind me again," Frances asked, "who’s winning?"

"Lions," John answered. The look she gave him said she could care less. It had been a rhetorical question. He shrugged. "Ever get the feeling it’s time to go?"

"Is that an invitation?" she grinned, suddenly more alert.

"An observation." He shook his head. Be careful what you say to this kid, Johnny, he told himself. Say hello and she’ll probably misconstrue it. He stood slowly with Chloe still asleep in his arms. As he headed down the hall to Chloe’s room Sam rose to follow.

Sam followed John as took Chloe to her room. She waited silently as he laid Chloe gently on her bed. He pulled the corner of a blanket over her then turned to smile ruefully at Sam.

"Since the only person who really wanted me here is out like a light," he said softly, "I guess I’m out of here, too."

Sam shook her head. "She’s not the only one who’s glad you came."

"I think Bailey negates Frances’ vote."

Sam gave him a mildly exasperated glare. "Stop being obtuse," she whispered. "I’m glad you came."

"I think…"

"Stop thinking so much." She smiled to soften the words. "It’s Thanksgiving, John. Just be happy."

"Just be happy?" he repeated with a grin. "You sound like a Bahamas cruise commercial, Sam."

She had intended to hit him lightly, a gentle punch for being so aggravating. She somehow missed. Without understanding quite how it happened she found herself hugging him instead. She could still feel the restlessness in him as his arms circled her shoulders.

"Happy Thanksgiving, John," she said quietly as she leaned against him.

"Well, it beats last year," he replied.

"Can you be anything other than completely annoying?" she asked, pushing away. She was trying to match his teasing tone, but she regretted the words immediately. He hid it quickly but she saw the flash of pain in his eyes and realized that he hadn’t been joking. It had been an honest comment. She started to reach her hand out to him again but he sidestepped her.

"I really have to go, Sam."

She could see the lie clearly, but she let him leave. She didn’t know what else to say anyway. She pulled off Chloe’s shoes and straightened the covers. By the time she got back to the living room John was gone. Bailey and Frances were preparing to depart as well. She suspected Bailey had only been staying to make sure John and Coop behaved. His duty was done. As the elevator door closed on them Coop turned to her and smiled. She sighed wearily and wondered if there was a polite way to ask him to leave, too.

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

The answering machine light was blinking in the darkness of John’s apartment when he came in. He hit the button on his way to the kitchen. A smile leapt to his face as Nathan’s voice spilled out of the machine.

"Hey, buddy! Happy Thanksgiving! I’m gonna take it as a good sign that you’re not home."

John walked back to turn up the volume.

"Michelle and I were just thinking about you today and thought we’d give you a call."

"Happy Thanksgiving, John!"

He grinned at Michelle’s greeting from the background. There was a scuffling noise and her voice became clearer.

"I hope you have a good excuse for not being around when your friends call," she said cheerfully. "Like, maybe you’re off having a decent dinner with Saman…"

"Give me that… Sorry, John. I didn’t say a thing. Honest," Nathan protested but John could hear the laughter in his voice. "Anyway, I hope you’re having a good time wherever you are… or were. Whatever. Give us a call some time, Johnny. Better yet, take a vacation. Come out and we’ll go to an Avalanche game or something." There was a slight pause on the tape, then… "Miss ya, John… Later, man."

"Bye, John. Stay out of trouble."

John laughed softly to himself and shook his head. Damn, he missed Nathan. He really was going to have to get out to Denver sometime soon. He didn’t have enough friends that he could let any of them slip away. It was nice that Nathan had remembered to call.

It really had been a pretty good day, he had to admit. Chloe had been glad he was there. He was certain of that much. Maybe Sam had been telling the truth, too. He didn’t know. Sometimes she confused the hell out of him. There were times he was sure she could understand everything about him just by looking at him and times when she didn’t seem to understand at all. It was just too baffling to deal with today, he decided. It would be much simpler to have a little personal toast to the holiday and go to bed. And hope he didn’t dream…