When John came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants, he smiled at the woman sitting at his kitchen table. �Chelle, how do you get up so early and still look sane?�

Michelle grinned. �Practice.� At his disbelieving look she gestured at the paperwork in front of her. �And the desire to get back to my husband eventually.�

�What? You�re not enjoying your stay at the Hotel Grant?� He tossed the towel he�d been using to dry his hair onto the couch and went into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a carton of orange juice. �I think I�m insulted.�

Marking her place in the notes she was reading, Michelle rolled her eyes. �If I insulted you, John, you�d know.�

�Ouch.�

�Besides, aren�t you sick of me yet?� Standing, she pulled two glasses out of the cupboard. She handed the second to John. �I heard Nathan tell you that he gave us two days before we were hunting a real hotel.�

John laughed. �Just because Nate doesn�t have any tact doesn�t mean I suffer from the same problem.� At the even stare she leveled at him, he relented. He held up his hands before taking a drink of juice. �Okay, okay. Jeez. Anyway, I don�t mind the company. And it�s not as if Nate ever bothers to get his lazy ass out here.�

�I�ll be sure to tell him you said that.� She smiled, returning to her seat.

�You do that,� John said, ducking out into the hallway to grab the paper.

�Oh,� Michelle said when John dropped onto one of the kitchen chairs. �You had a phone call while you were in the shower. I didn�t figure you�d mind if I grabbed it.�

He shook his head, though it was mostly hidden behind the sports section. �Nope. Thanks. What�d they want?�

She tilted her head to the side and chewed on her pen absentmindedly. �It was strange, actually. She asked for you, then just apologized and said �never mind�.�

John�s attention snared, he lowered the paper. �She?�

Michelle nodded. �Yeah. Like I said, it was strange.� She smiled suddenly. �Some old girlfriend that didn�t expect a woman to answer the phone, Johnny?�

�Yeah, right.� He shuddered. �And don�t call me Johnny.�

Laughing, she shook her head. �Sorry, John. I�ve known you too long for that to work.� She waited for a moment, but when John merely buried his head back in the sports section, she sighed. �So? Who do you think it was?� Michelle snickered as another thought occurred to her. �Or is your dating life really that dead?�

Tossing the paper onto the table, John stood. �Remind me again why I didn�t ship you off to a hotel?�

�Because you�re too nice for your own good? Oh wait, that can�t be it.� She almost screeched when the towel that John had been drying his hair with minutes before suddenly flew toward her head. She ducked, laughing. �Obviously not that.�

From back toward the bedroom, John growled. �Go to court already.�

�I�m going, I�m going.� Walking back to the bedroom, Michelle knocked on the door. When it opened, she handed him a piece of paper. �I wrote down the number from the caller id.� Trying not to laugh as John fought his tie, she shook her head. �Um. Anyway. You could probably use the might of the FBI to figure it out.�

John looked at her out of the corner of his eye. �You�re not going to drop this are you?�

�Aren�t you curious?� she asked, sitting on the half-made bed. She watched as he finished knotting the tie, and set to work on his hair. �I thought you cop types were supposed to follow every lead.�

Giving up on his hair, John turned around. �And I thought you lawyer types were supposed to Go. To. Court.� He winked. �Do you think my love life is that bad? That I have to go chasing every hang up phone call?�

Looking around, she tried not to laugh but failed. �Do you really want me to answer that?�

�Out.� He pointed toward the door, not quite managing to hide his grin. �At least let me get dressed in peace. I swear how Nathan deals with this every morning, I�ll never understand.�

�Get married someday and you might,� she said under her breath with a grin. Then, holding up her hands in mock-surrender, Michelle shook her head. �Okay. I�m gone.� Pausing by the dresser, she laid the small sheet of paper on its surface.

With a last glance at John, she shrugged. �Just in case.�

***

At the end of the morning briefing, John watched as Rachel and Bailey left the large table. A moment later he turned his attention to the piece of paper lying on top of his notes folder.

�John?� A pause. �Earth to John. You in there?�

He looked up and found George looking at him. �Yeah?�

�You okay?� George half-smiled at him, but still managed to look concerned. �You�ve been out of it all morning.�

John shook his head. �It�s nothing.� However a second later, he was again staring at the phone number Michelle had given him. Something wouldn�t let him just forget about the missed call.

George shook his head, this time laughing. �It�s not nothing. So who is she?�

�She?� John�s head shot up quickly to meet George�s gaze. Taking a deep breath, he shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. �Why do you always assume it�s a woman?�

�Because it usually is,� he replied, enjoying watching John squirm. �And the look on your face when I asked. So? Tell me.�

John was quiet for a long moment, trying to decide if he really wanted to know who the mysterious caller was. Finally, curiosity won out. �Someone called my apartment this morning,� he said suddenly, his eyes never leaving the paper. The admission causing George to jump.

George nodded. �Okay. And this is bothering you why?�

�Apparently she asked for me, then hung up when Michelle said I couldn�t come to the phone. She didn�t leave a name.� As he spoke, John began fidgeting with the piece of paper.

�Is that the number?� He gestured toward John�s hand. When the other man nodded, George added, �Let me have it. I can trace it in no time.�

Looking at George with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, John finally nodded. �Okay. What can it hurt, right?�

�Right.� George was about to pull the sheet from John�s grasp when he finally handed it over. Winking, George added, �Now, go work on the Simmons� report for Bailey before he gets annoyed.�

Shaking his head, John sighed melodramatically. �Does the paperwork ever end? I signed up for this job for action and women.�

�Funny, I wanted action and men . . .� George winked, making shooing motions with his hands. �Go. There�s mundane work afoot. I�ll find you whenever I get a name on this number.�

John nodded, serious. �Thanks, George.�

�No problem, buddy.�

***

John looked up when a shadow fell across his desk to find George standing there with a serious look on his face. Uneasy, John leaned back in his chair. �George? What�s wrong?�

Pulling an extra chair over to John�s desk, George dropped into it heavily. John�s gaze fell to the piece of paper that George was twisting in his hands. �I found out the name,� he said after a long silence.

John nodded, unable to tear his gaze from George's hand. Too many possibilities came to mind, and again he wasn�t sure he wanted to know. Needed to know, yes. Wanted? No. A moment later he cleared his throat. �Yeah?�

George took a deep breath before rubbing a hand over his eyes. Meeting John�s gaze, he finally replied, �It�s Sam.�

John froze. He didn�t blink, couldn�t breathe. Instead he simply stared at George, disbelieving. �Sam?� he finally managed to choke out.

Nodding, George watched as John tried to assimilate the information. �Yeah, buddy. It was Sam.�

�I don�t believe it.� John lowered his head into his hands. �Why now? Why at all?� The words came out muffled, his face still buried in his hands. When he looked back up at George, the disbelief was still there. �You�re sure?�

Again, George nodded. His eyes never leaving the shocked eyes before him, he whispered, �I�m sure.�

John dropped his hands, but didn't meet George�s eyes. �What am I supposed to do now?� The rough question was more to himself.

Placing the phone number on the desk, George smiled softly. �I believe the normal reaction would be to call her back. Especially considering how you feel about . . .�

He finally looked up, a mixture of emotion boiling in his eyes. �George,� he interrupted. �Don�t.�

The other man shrugged as if to say �why me?� His grin faltered, and his voice was low. �Call her. You�ll regret it if you don�t.�

�Yeah.� John�s gaze fell onto the paper. �Maybe.� He didn�t sound certain. After a moment, George stood to leave. Glancing at his friend, John added, �Thanks, George.�

He placed his hand on John�s shoulder and squeezed it. �You�re welcome, buddy.�

***

The rest of the day passed in a blur. John considered going to speak with Bailey, but ruled out the idea. Whether he called Sam or not, it would be his decision. Not Bailey�s.

As a result, at eight o�clock that evening, John was sitting in his living room � staring at the telephone. Michelle had gone out to dinner with an old friend, leaving John alone to decide if he should call. But not until she�d made it clear that she thought he was insane if he didn�t.

Picking up the cordless phone for the forth time, he placed it back on the table. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. It wasn�t supposed to be so hard. But she wasn�t supposed to just move away and out of his life for two years, either.

Rarely was he lacking a smart-ass comment in any situation � his mouth and attitude never failed, much to Bailey�s chagrin. However, for one of the few times that he could remember he had absolutely no idea what he would say if Sam actually did answer the phone.

Grabbing the handset, he punched in the number quickly, before he could talk himself out of it once more. He jumped when it rang for the first time, and didn�t breathe when it rang the second time.

After the fourth ring, his determination faltering, John was about to hang up when he heard a long-lost but far from forgotten voice.

�Hello?�

He opened his mouth - only no words would come. Fumbling with the phone, he hung it up, barely hearing the repeated �Hello?�

Taking a deep breath, he stood and began pacing in the living room. He took two steps away from the couch before pausing. Turning he stared at the telephone for a long moment, his eyes wide. John ran a hand through his hair, hating how nervous he felt.

A few minutes later, with renewed resolve, John picked up the phone and turned it on. Before he could question the action, he punched the redial button.

It only rang once when there was an audible click. "Hello?"

He opened his mouth, closed it and swallowed nervously. He had faced down serial killers with less stress than he felt at that moment. Finally he managed. "Hello."

After what felt like a something akin to an eternity to John, she replied. "John?" Hearing the surprise in her voice, he smiled. Relief washed over him.

"Yeah, it's me." John cleared his throat. "Hey Sam." John paused, unsure what to say next. "You called?" The blurted words caused him to wince.

Even though he hadn't seen Sam in two years, he could still imagine what the expression on her face looked like. However, when she spoke, it wasn't what he expected. "Yeah. So who's the lady that finally tamed John Grant?"

"What?" he asked instinctively, with a strained laugh. "Who told you that?" Nervousness was rapidly fading into confusion.

"When I called..."

John did laugh then, causing her to pause. "Sam, that was Michelle."

He could all but hear her blink slowly, processing the information. It was one of the few times he had ever managed to one up her. "Michelle?"

"Yeah. Michelle. Nate's wife, Michelle. She's staying here while she's in town on a case."

"That's why she was familiar..." Sam's voice trailed off, leaving the comment unfinished.

John smiled, but it faded quickly. "Sam? Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but why did you call? Nothing for two years and then if not for caller id, a missed call at six a.m.?"

He heard her sigh and fell back onto the couch. Forget the bill, for this story he was prepared to wait.

"John we need to talk."

He nodded. "That's why I called you back. To talk."

"No." There was a long silence, unease catching in John's throat before she finished her thought. "I need to see you." The plea caught him off guard, causing him to almost drop the phone. "In person."

Disbelief rang in his mind, not wanting to believe the words for the fear they would prove untrue. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he wondered silently when his life had turned upside down. "Sam..."

"Please, John."

Unable to deny her that request, he nodded -- knowing she couldn't see. "Okay, where?"

There was a pause. "We'll come to you, Chlo and me. The holiday weekend is coming up. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, works for me." John stood, resuming his earlier pacing. The nervousness had yet to completely go away. "Do you need..."

"No, I'll rent a car," she finished the statement for him. "Say about noon on Thursday? Or do you have..."

"No," he interrupted her this time. "You know me and family."

He could hear her smile, or imagined he could. "Alright then."

"Sam?" he asked after a prolonged silence.

"Yeah?"

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Thanks for calling."

There was a pause, but before he could say anything she replied, "Thanks for calling me back."

"Anytime, Sam."

"See you soon, then."

Not knowing what else to say, he looked out the window into the night sky. Not many stars were visible over the lights of Atlanta, though. "Yeah, see you soon. Good bye, Sam."

"Bye."

He waited until the line went dead before lowering the phone and disconnecting it. He couldn't quite place the emotions he was feeling, and he understood Sam's even less. Sighing, he dropped the phone onto the couch. The holidays had just become interesting.