A New Taste on the Tongue

Chapter 3: A Semi-Welcome Visitor

Bailey looked up at the sound of familiar footsteps only to see Sam walking rapidly into the VCTF command center. “Sam, what are you doing here? Were we supposed to go to lunch?”

She smiled, a little strangely he thought, then rested a hand on his shoulder. “Just visiting. See you later, Bail.” Dropping a quick kisshis his lips, she turned sharply on one heel and walked right back out through the glass doors towards ... the women’s bathroom?

“Just visiting, but not visiting me?” Mentally throwing up his hands, Bailey turned back to the papers in front of him. “I will never understand the female mind. That’s why we have women for profilers.”

The female mind in question had managed to control the laughter bubbling up inside her until she met the two other female minds still in the bathroom. Then, however, all bets were off.

Within three feet of the door, Sam met the grins of her fellow plotters and burst into nearly hysterical laughter, eventually leaning helplessly against a wall to stay off the floor. Gasping for breath, Sam moved unsteadily toward the girls. “So, how do we go about getting the boys together?”

“Well, we have a few ideas ....”

***

“Hi, John.”

“Hi, Sam. Here for a nooner with Bailey? Should I feel honored you stopped and talked to me?” Not even looking up, John continued to work. He was a bit tired of being interrogated by women today and he could practically feel anr onr one coming.

“No, actually I came by to see if you were doing better. You seemed more than a little down last night.” Sam made sure to put just enough concern and apology in her voice to make John a little guilty.

It worked. “Sorry, Sam. It’s just been a really long day.” He raised his head to meet her eyes, vaguely irritated. “I’m feeling much better, though, so don’t worry about me.” John put on a mostly fake smile in the hope that it would assure her enough to leave. He had more important things to do ... like finding ouo tho the girl had been and kissing her again. A lot. “So you can get back to Bailey. Wouldn’t want my boss to be mad at me for monopolizing his main squeeze.”

Sam calmly sat down in the chair in front of his desk, hiding her smile. “Have you heard from Kim? I’m sure she’s going to change her mind. You two will be back together in no time.” The tone in her voice was obviously trying to comfort him but something inside John recoiled sharply at the idea. All thoughts of Kim had disappeared without a trace – the woman he’d gotten so very, very drunk over was only a dim and unimportant memory, completely overwhelmed by the brush of an unknown woman’s lips against his own.

“Actually, I don’t think she’ll be coming back.” John ducked his head a little. “Not that it matters much.”

“Why? Find someone new so quickly?” Sam’s eyes eagerly detailed the way his shoulders tensed and hands clenched, flinched almost. She’d hit a sore spot and she knew it. “Who is she? Someone we know? Did you meet her at the party?”

John raised suspicious eyes to meet hers. She was up to something, that much was painfully clear. But what? Had she and Grace been plotting against him? “Of course I did, Sam. You know me – I have girls hidden all over the state simply dying to hear from me.”

“Of course you do, John. They know what a catch you’d be if only they could tame you.” Sam put a matching amount of sarcasm in her voice before leaning closer. “But I had a specific one in mind – one with your height, brown eyes and a taste for strong scotch, perhaps?”

Finally pushing aside his work, John propped his elbows on the desk. “Grace been telling tales?”

“Yes, John. She wants you to be happy and thought maybe I could help you remember more about your new-found love. Even John the charmer can’t woo someone he can’t find, now can he?”

“Sam ....”

Completely ignoring the warning in his voice, she pushed ahead. “Just bear with me, John. Grace said brown eyes. They were brown, rig

At his reluctant nod, Sam smiled. “Light brown, almost a gold, or dark brown like Italian eyes?” A sweet, besotted smile overcame the one already on her lips at the thought of Italian brown eyes. Especially one particular pair of them ....

“No, Sam, she didn’t have Bailey’s eyes. But they were dark ...” His voice trailed off as he relived the gaze of those dark eyes. “With little hazel flecks.”

A little voice in Sam’s head made the ‘oh’ of ‘oh how sweet’ at the soft expression on John’s face. “Good – now for the hair. Light or dark? Long or short? Curly or straight?”

John stopped, remembering his hand on the back of her neck and the silken brush of hair over his skin – but only on half of the back of his hand. “Short, above the shoulder. Not curly. Maybe waves, maybe straight.”

“Good, John. I always knew there was a reason Bailey recruited you. Now, hair color?”

John just shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

“Okay, then.” Sam paused a moment to think. “Clothing, either color or cut. Any makeup? Eye shadow? Lipstick?”

“No, no lipstick.” The knowledge was immediate, without hesitation.

She smiled widely, strangely proud of him at that moment. “What makes you say that, John?”

“I never tasted any, Sam. She didn’t taste like lipstick, just Jamison’s.” Rubbing his thumb over his lips, John sifted through the hazy memories of being taken home. The hands taking off his shoes and being covered with a blanket. “Gentle hands, strong hands.” He flashed on the image of one of those hands flattened against his chest. “No rings ... no jewelry at all, actually.”

Sam grinned, involuntarily laughing a little. John had a lot of pieces to this puzzle, but seeing the big picture wasn’t going to be easy for him. The reality of the situation wasn’t anything that would ever occur to him .... But we can’t shock the boy too soon. “Well, at least we know she isn’t married.”

“Yeah, that would have complicated my life.”

“You think so?”

John looked at Sam sharply. Something in her voice, her words, pricked at his senses. Something wasn’t right here.

But what?”

***

Two overly cheery voices spoke at once. “Hi, George.”

“God, what did I do to deserve this?” George clunked his head down on the top of the desk, flinching slightly at the last remnants of his hangover. “Grace, Rachel – I really, really don’t want to talk to either of you right now, so please go revel in my pain somewhere else.” After several moments of silence and the nearly painful realization that his two tormentors hadn’t left, he reluctantly raised his head. There they were, the two women sitting on the other side of the desk with matching expressions on their face – appropriate somberness that was doing its best to keep the amusement back. Very nearly glaring at the one on the right, George crossed his arms on the desk. “You told her, didn’t you, Rachel?”

“Of course I did, George. Grace needed to know so we could help you.” Her voice was very carefully calm and uneonalonal. George was being emotional enough for all three of them.

“First, I don’t need any help. Second, does the whole office need to know so we can help me?” The sarcasm was soaking through each and every word.
Of cOf course not, George. We can’t tell John anything yet. Not until he remembers it.” At the smile that swept across Rachel’s face, muscles all over George’s body tensed with immediate ... not fear, more of a need for self-preservation.

“Remembers it?” George felt the memory flash through his body – the heat of those lips on his own, the taste of liquor on his tongue. “Remembers what? There’s nothing for him to remember.”

“Really?” Grace leaned forward on his desk. “John remembers someone kissing him at the party last night. We think it was you.”

“I didn’t kiss him, he kissed ....” George’s mind finally caught up with his lips (an occurrence that seemed to be happening to him a lot lately) and sensibly shut his mouth before the last word escaped. But it was too late. They’d both heard it and there was no taking it back, however much George wished he could. Putting his head back down on his arms, he waited for whatever he knew had to be coming. Rachel and Grace weren’t the quiet type – the awkward silence had to break sooner or later.

“He ki you you.”

George nodded without looking up.

“Did he enjoy it?”

“He seemed to ... I mean he did ... it was like ... it felt ....” He stopped for a moment, searching for the words to describe John’s ... enthusiasm. Falling short, he qualified. “I do not think he found it to be an unpleasant physical sensation. Of course, he was fantastically drunk at the time ....”

Rachel cut him off. “So you’re saying that John liked kissing you.” The matter of fact tone in her voice pricked at his nerves.

“Yes, Rachel, since you insist I’m saying that John liked kissing me.” Balling his hands into fists, George kept his voice flat and emotionless.

“And you enjoyed kissing him?”

“Grace ....”

She shook her head, seeing the lie on his face. “And you enjoyed kissing him.”

“Yes, I did,” he murmured very softly.

“George, we can’t hear you, dear.”

“Yes, I liked kissing John!”

Grace settled back in her chair, a pleased look on her face. “Good, George. We’re making progress now.”

“Progress towards what? If you two ladies don’t mind my asking.”

“Towards happiness, of course.”

“Happiness?! Whose happiness? Does watching me suffer make the two of you happy?”

Standing, Grace circled the desk and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “George, we don’t enjoy watching you suffer. I think you and John could be happy together.”

The vague hope Rachel saw in his eyes immediately collapsed under some heavy weight. Moving away from Grace’s hand, he walked to the doorway. Turning back halfway out, George smiled weakly. “He was drunk, I’m losing it and the two of you are just delusional. I’m going home. If Bailey asks, tell him I wasn’t feeling well.” He laughed bitterly. “I can’t help anything here anyway.”

After he left the girls sat there silently for a moment, staring at the empty doorway.

“They need our help.”

“Yes, yes they do.”

***

Within about three hours, however, reality had conspired (this time without the help of the girls) to reverse George’s nicely done dramatic exit. There had been a break in the case and, as usual, George nee needed.

“Georgie, I know you’re not at your best. Gracie told me. But unless you’re dead, we need you here with the team.”

The light thudding of his forehead against the cold tile of his kitchen wall wasn’t helping George ignore the sound of Bailey’s voice on the phone. “Okay, okay.” George rubbed his face tiredly. “I’m on my way in. See you soon.”

“See you, George.”

Hanging up the phone, George rested his forehead against the tile. “If this is the start of the new year, I’m boycotting Christmas.”

***

“Don’t, Grace.” George raised a hand at the look on her face. “Don’t start this again. It’s done, over. Give it up.”

“Whatever you say, George. Let’s just get to work.” Grace smiled at the dark expression on his face. He might be suffering now, but that was going to change.

Turning to follow George, Grace met Sam’s eyes through Bailey’s office window and nodded. Plan B initiated.

“George.” John walked up with a look of relief – a lot of relief – on his face. “I’m glad you’re here -- I really need you right now.” Grace’s attention snapped instantaneously to the men standing only a few feet apart. Even if it hadn’t, though, it was impossible not to notice the tension bracing George’s spine, or the way a shiver that rode up it as his hands cled ind involuntarily.

John, however, gave no indication of noticing anything as he laid a hand on George’s shoulder. “Security cameras spotted him at a bus station and you’re the one with the magic touch. Come find him.”

Unconsciously leaning into the heat of John’s hand, George dropped his eyes to hide the look he couldn’t keep off his face. “I’ll try, John. But a bus station -- low security, cash purchases ... it won’t be easy.”

“Nothing’s ever easy, but you always manage anyway.” Punching him in the arm as he sat down, John took up his usual position behind George’s chair, standing with one hand along the back. “You can do this.”

Out of the corner of his eye George glared at Grace, attempting to ignore both the smile on his face and the feelings in him that John was causing by leaning so damn close. “I’ll do my best.” Leaning in towards his computer, George triedpay pay attention to the information on the screen and the keys under his fingers. He tried to ignore the feel of John’s hand only inches from the back of his neck. Only inches from that patch of skin that hand had touched when John had pulled him close and ... changed everything.

And nothing, he forcibly reminded himself. Nothing had really changed. The heat of John leaning over his shoulder wasn’t something he should let distract him. The glow of confidence, the faith he could feel coming from him. John’s face so close to his own shouldn’t make him long for the taste of tequila on his tongue. Maybe a couple of pills ....

Bad, George. No new self-destructive cycles. Just get your eyes off his lips, your mind off his hands and your attention onto the task before you. “Within five minutes of his appearance on the tape two busses left: one for Phoenix and the other for Chicago. Within a half an hour a total of 12 busses left for major cities all over the country, east and west coasts.”

John leaned even closer, making George’s eyes squeeze closed a second. “With stops, that could be 30-40 cities, maybe more. Can you narrow it down, eliminate some of the busses?” George watched, a little bit dazed, as John’s eyes seemed to drop imperceptibly, lingering for a fraction of a second on the curve of his lips .... Shaking himself slightly, John moved away. “Do what you can to narrow it down, then get me a list of the cities so I can send out APBs.”

George turned sharply back to the screen of his laptop. “I’m on it.”

“Thanks, George.” An odd note to his voice, John quickly moved to a seat on the other side of the table before opening his files in front of him.

With both the boys at least looking like they were absorbed in their work, neither saw the smiles Grace and Rachel exchanged, or felt the force of Sam’s gaze from the doorway of Bailey’s office. From where Sam stood, John didn’t have as far to come as she’d thought. The look on his face .... Maybe it was time to start pushing things along.

Smiling to herself, she walked over to the table and laid both hands on Bailey’s shoulders, resting her body against him. “How goes the good fight?”

“He’s running. It’s only a matter of time before he makes a mistake.” Bailey lifted one of his lover’s hands, pressing a kiss to her palm. “We’ll get him soon.”

“Of course you will.” Sam pressed a cheek against his hair as she sent a smile to everyone else at the table, a special glint in her eyes for specific individuals. “Nothing gets past the VCTF.”

The girls quirked their eyebrows while the boys were either ignoring her or being oblivious. John, unfortunately, was probably in the latter category, while George’s uneasiness put him firmly into the former. Now they couldn’t let that go on, now could they ....

Pulling away from Bailey’s skin a little reluctantly, Sam moved to stand behind John, a hand resting on the back of his chair. “George, have I told you how much I love that sweater? That color really brings the hazel out in your eyes.” John might have shifted a little – Sam was sure she had felt him move against her fingers. But George ... George reacted quite nicely. His hands flinched, his eyes – with their wonderful hazel flecks – narrowed suspiciously, and muscles all over his body tensed. Sam leaned forward, trying to get a better look at John’s eyes. “Don’t you think so, John?”

His eyes rose slowly from his protective file to look across the table at George, a strange expression on his face. “Yeah, dark green’s a good color on him.”

“Isn’t it?” Sam smiled at Rachel and moved around the table to lay a hand on George’s shoulder. “You should wear that color more often, George.”

Grabbing her hand, George pulled Sam close enoug whi whisper in her ear. “You know?”

“I’d guessed – now I know.” She smiled and patted his hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“That’s so comforting, Sam. Thank you so much.”

Even through his nearly silent whisper, his sarcasm managed to make itself clear. Then, dismissing her, George turned and pushed a sheet of paper over the table’s surface to John. “Here are some of the closest cities. I’ll get you the rest as soon as I can.”

“Great work, George. I’ll be waiting for you when they’re ready.” John gathered up his papers and walked – maybe just a touch too quickly – towards the phone sitting on his desk. He had APBs to send out and had no time to puzzle over the strange feelings swirling inside him. Or, for that matter, notice the look on George’s face as he walked away.

Unfortunately for George, the girls did. It was clear that more effective action was required.

One hour and several APBs r, tr, the team was again circled around the big conference table. Rachel perched on the table next to George’s laptop, her legs crossed at the knee and the toe of one shoe bumping his legs.

George, for his part, was suppressing a blush and fighting desperately to ignore her, a task that Rachel was doing her best to make impossible. “You know, George, Sam’s right. That really is a great color on you. You should wear it for him more often.”

Sam, sitting next to Bailey, sahn’shn’s head rise sharply at the word ‘him.’

“I think he’d really like that blue-grey shirt you wore to the party, too,” Grace suggested from the end of the table, smiling sweetly. “You should wear it for him soon.”

George’s smile wasn’t nearly as sweet as when he raised his head to glare at her. “Thank you, Grace. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Rachel turned to look at John over her shoulder, still nudging George with her foot. “George, don’t you think the outfit John wore to the party looked good? Tell him he should wear it again.” Her smile widened a little before puzzlement crept into her expression. “You saw it, didn’t you? Before you left?”

Hadn’t he? John thought for a second before the picture in head came a little closer to in focus. “Yeah, I think so. It looked good.” For some reason John didn’t quite understand, the visual memory of George’s clothes started with a view of him from about the knees down. How.
.

The color of George’s face shifted closer to red and he moved to stand, pushing Rachel’s legs out of the way with a little more force than necessary. “I need some coffee.”

Rachel smiled, leaning back on her hands as she followed him with her eyes. “There’s some Kenyan in the decaf pot, George.”

He turned to look at her with an odd smile. “Thanks, Rachel.” As George turned back to the coffee counter, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. John was walking this way. Please, not now. Head down, George poured himself a cup and tried not to look over.

“So, I gather you’ve met someone.”

There was an odd note in John’s voice, but George didn’t have the time to both analyze and respond. “I guess you could say that.” Good, George. That was pretty neutral.

“You should have told me.” John’s lips twitched in a way George tried not to look at. “But good for you, George. They say the best way to get over the last one is the next one.”

You want to volunteer, John? George shook his head, trying to slap the thought away. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Clapping George on the shoulder, John tried a little harder to console him. “Come on, Georgie, cheer up. Richard wasn’t good enough for you. Give the new guy a chance to be.”

George felt something flash over his face despite his best attempts to stay expressionless. If only John knew just how badly George wanted to take his and the girls’ advice .... No. It simply wasn’t a possibility. George just had to convince himself and his heart of that unpleasant truth. “Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps telling me.” Moving out from under John’s hand, George walked back to the table and turned to Bailey. “With all the APB’s out and no new leads, there’s nothing I can do here now. So ....”

“Sorry, George. We still need you here. He could be spotted any minute now and we need to be ready to move in on it.”

Nodding tiredly, George settled back into his chair. Could this day get any longer?

***

Watching George rub his forehead yet again, John wondered what was wrong. Was George really not feeling well, or had Bailey’s call to get him back into the office interrupted a date? Was the new guy waiting at home? Was he the reason George had asked if he could leave?

Why did that possibility bother John so much?

The e ofe of another man sitting at George’s apartment sent indescribable twinges through John’s internal organs. Who was he? And why had he felt like sharing this information with everyone but him?

That twinge in John’s gut couldn’t possibly be jealousy, he told himself. He was really happy for George if the new guy was what he needed now. The break-up with Richard had been hard on him, not to mention the whole drug addiction period. The memory flashed through John’s head of George accusing Rachel of telling Bailey. He’d never suspected that John had told their boss, simply assuming that it had been one of the girls. Something inside John had somehow been offended that he, the one that had known George the longest, hadn’t even been on the list of suspects. Not that anyone ever told John anything ....

George should have told him about this new guy. John would’ve told him about his new girl. If I knew who she was ....

So who was he?

Casually, John rubbed his jaw and leaned back in his chair. “So, George, where did you meet him?”

“Meet who?” George asked without even looking up.

“Him, the guy who’ll like your blue-grey shirt. The guy you should wear that sweater for. Where’d you meet him?”

Lifting his head, George folded his arms and looked at John with blank eyes. “Online. We met in a chat room.”

“Well, have you had him checked out? You know there are a lot of dangerous people on the Internet.” Concern tripped up John’s back. There were a lot of freaks online, and George didn’t seem to be at his healthiest emotional state since Richard.

Denying to himself that there was any reason other than concern that made him want a name, John leaned his arms on the table and fidgeted distractedly with his coffee. “If you’d like, I could run a background check on him for you.”

George closed his eyes, both trying to avoid any looks the girls might be shooting him and to keep them from seeing how touched he was. Dammit, John was not making this any easier. It would be way too easy to fall in ....

No. No no no no no.

He swallowed, trying to sound anywhere near emotionally stable. “It’s okay, John. I’ve actually known him for quite awhile.” Finally, at least something resembling the truth. “He checks out.”

“Oh.” John looked away for a moment, fighting back an absolutely pointless stab of resentment. ‘Quite awhile,’ huh? “So, what’s his name?”

All at once the girls leaned forward expectantly, eyes sparkling in an extremely inappropriate manner. “Yeah, George, what’s his name?” Sam encouraged. “That’s the one bit of information we couldn’t get out of you.”

“People, people.” Bailey’s voice cut quite firmly into the potential interrogation, disturbed to realize that at some point he had completely lost the thread of what was going on. “Leave Georgie alone. We have work to do here.”

At this point several mouths opened around the table, the girls to protest and George to thank Bailey from the bottom of his heart. It was surprising, then, that John was the one that made it out first. “Oh come on, Bailey. I’ve sent out the APB’s. All that’s left for us to do here is sit back and wait. It’s the perfect chance for some friendly conversation.” Not giving Bailey a chance to respond, he turned back to George. “So, what’s his name?”

Abandoning the file as pointless, George buried his face in his hands in an echo of his earlier moment. Noticing this, Rachel suppressed a brief rush of sympathy for the poor man – really, he would thank them for this later. “Cole,” he murmured finally. “His name is Cole.”

“Where’s he based? You can never really tell online.”hn thn tried to keep his voice casual, make the whole thing not sound so much like the Spanish Inquisition.

“Oh, Atlanta.” He was damned to hell because of all this, anyway. Might as well make it as honest as possible. “I was quite surprised by how close he was, actually.”

“Will we get to meet him?” That was Grace, realizing that the tension was suddenly rising quite a bit faster than they had intended and hoping she could at least distract the potential bomb.

George still hadn’t looked up yet. “I desperately hope not.”

John fought back another stab of bitterness. What, he ... the VCTF was suddenly not good enough to meet the important people in George’s life? Hell, he thought they were the important people in George’s life. “Does he know about ....”

“Yes,” George cut in, harsher than he’d intended. Bailey had told him later that it was John who had finally filled him in on George’s drug problem. When he finally managed to kick it, he realized how caring that had truly been. “He knows about pretty much everything.”

“That’s good.” George was clearly suffering. Why the hell couldn’t John stop himself? “But you never really said – how long have you known this ... Cole?”

At this George finally jumped up, slamming both hands against the table. He thought the girls had been the worse things could possibly get, but this .... He had made one stupid mistake. One. Why couldn’t they just let him at least try to move on? After this case was over, George wasn’t coming back to work for weeks. “For years, okay?!” he shouted, making everyone else jump back. “I’ve been having a wild secret affair with him for absolute ages, even when I was still with Richard. That’s the real reason I kicked him out, actually. Not because he was an asshole.” He shoved his chair back. “I’m going to get some coffee.” Almost anticipating her opening her mouth, he turned and glared at Rachel. “Not decaf.” Then he whirled around and stalked toward the offices.

When he was gone those left at the table exchanged equal looks of concern, though some were more enlightened than others. Once more, though, it was John that spoke for the rest of them. “Aw, shit.” He ran a worried hand through his hair, disgusted with himself. “I’d better go apologize.”

Then he was gone, followed by silent encouragement from the three girls and a perplexed expression from Bailey, who then looked over at his own significant other. “Could someone please tell me what exactly is going on here?”

Eyes still following John’s exit, Sam patted his hand. “Sorry, hon, but I don’t know if we’re sure anymore.”

***