Falling

by Niccie

nigra@swipnet.se

Disclaimer: All things Profiler belong to Cynthia Saunders and Sander/Moses Productions. I'm just borrowing the characters for the enjoyment of myself and other fans, no money is being made.

Pairing: George/John

Rating: PG

Warning: Some bad language, none apart from that.

Archive: Yes, but please ask me first.

Spoilers: Yes, for "Do the right thing".

Author's note: This story is based on "DTRT", but I've changed quite a lot. And added. And left out. In the episode someone is saying something, but in my story, I've let someone else say it. And, where in the episode a person is standing up, he/she is now sitting down. And so on. Some things are taken directly from the ep though. If you've seen it, you'll know what I mean. //...// indicates John's thoughts.

Feedback: Is appreciated, whether you liked it or not, but no flames please. Of course, I can't see this particular story upsetting anyone ;-) And you *will* get a reply.


Falling
by Niccie
nigra@swipnet.se
March 1999


John was pacing around just outside where George and the others were sitting. George was, as always, busy getting information from his computer and didn't see him. Good thing too, since he had a hard time hiding his anger over the case they were currently working on. Not that he didn't have a temper problem in general, but this was getting personal in ways that he didn't want anyone, especially George, to find out.

- John?

John stopped, and looked in the direction from which the voice had come from. Bailey was watching him, with a mix of curiousity and amusement in his eyes. //Oh great. Just wonderful// John knew that Bailey could see into people's minds almost as well as Sam, which could of course be useful in their profession. However, he had no desire to let Bailey know what was racing through his thoughts this very moment. //Time to put on the facade// John walked over to the others, and sat down in his chair opposite of George.

- So, what have we got?

- Well, Sam thinks that the killer might somehow be connected with the military.

George glanced up from his computer, smiling briefly at him. //Damn it! Don't do that// John coughed lightly to make sure his voice wouldn't break when he started talking.

- Yeah, that's totally possible. That's definitely a supressed environment. Someone's letting his anger out. Maybe he had some...um...experience, so to speak, in the military that he now wants to forget.

- You mean, he was with a man, enjoyed it, feels bad about it, and this is his way of dealing with it?

George looked at him incredulously.

- Why not? It's not that uncommon that that's the case with gay bashing.

- Yeah, that's true. But I don't think what we have here is gay bashing. The victims are too...neatly killed, for lack of better description.

Sam stood by the desk, while sharing her thoughts on the case with the others.

- Neatly?

John looked up at Sam, knowing that what she said might just be true. But however much he hated the thought of people getting killed because of their sexual orientation, it helped him here in putting a distance between himself and George. Not that they were that close, but God, did he ever want them to to be. And lately it seemed to be getting harder to keep from just telling George how he felt. //Oh, this is brilliant. I fall in love for the first time in my life, and who is the object of my affection? My gay co-worker, who's never shown any interest in me whatsoever. Maybe I should be insulted? It's not like I'm not one of the more attractive men around here// John shook his head at his own thoughts. //God, I have a big head sometimes// John suddenly looked up, only to see George looking at him with an amused smile. He realized that Sam was talking, and he'd obviously missed some of what she had said. A bit stupid since he was the one who had asked her what she meant with the murders being "neat". No one had seemed to notice, though. Except for George. //Does he have to look at me like that? Like he...cares or something//

- ...and that's what I believe supports my theory.

Sam looked around as if she expected questions. //Might as well take advantage of that//

- So, in short, what you're saying is...?

John heard a quick giggle from George, but when he looked up George's expression was ever so innocent.

- That if these murders were committed only out of rage for these men being gay, they probably would have been *beaten* to death or something. And probably humiliated in a more public way. I don't see that here. I'm also not sure that Philip Dumont was gay at all.

- No, his house sure didn't look like it. The place looked like it hadn't been vacuumed in ages.

- And 'cause he was gay, it should've been?

George looked at him, and for a moment John saw a tint of annoyance shadowing his features.

- Well, you're a slob too, but you gotta admit it's the exception.

- Yeah, I'm starting a support group.

//Well, that seemed to tick him off. It should have, I just insulted him, didn't I?// But when John looked at George, he saw that he was smiling at him.

//So, he just pretended to be upset. How am I supposed to interpret that? So much for trying to put some distance between us//

- Let's keep on track, fellas.

Bailey was standing beside Sam by the desk, smiling at them. He looked like a daddy telling his kids to behave.

- Sure, why not?

John glanced over to where George sat, only to find him still smiling. But he soon turned serious again and started tapping at his keyboard.

- Have you got something for us, Georgie?

John winced at Bailey's words. Or not so much the words as the way he said "Georgie". //Affectionate nicknames should be reserved for people who are in love, Bailey. God, I hate it when you call him Georgie//

- Yeah, here's a list of people you might wanna question. One of them is a Stephen Daniel Gelb. He assaulted a gay man, Larry Robinson, last year. Gelb got three months in jail for it, Robinson will be in a wheel chair for the rest of his life. What can I say, welcome to the wonderful world of justice.

George's voice was full of bitterness, and anger. And no one could argue with what he said, 'cause that was how the law worked at times. John looked at him, and for a moment wondered if he had ever been attacked only because he was gay. If it had happened, it hadn't been during the time since they got to know each other. //And if it is to happen, God knows, whoever the perpetrator is, he'll get his punishment one way or the other. And it will definitely be worse than three months in jail// John didn't even pause to wonder about his protectiveness toward George, it just felt perfectly natural.

*****

Together with a few policemen, John and Bailey went to Vagabond Video, the last place where Gelb had been employed. After they had been standing around waiting for a while, Gelb turned up. John felt his anger rising, when seeing the man and thinking about what he'd done. But with Bailey and the policemen present, he managed to control himself, somehow. Gelb was handcuffed and transported back to the Center. Once there he was taken to one of the interrogation rooms, where John soon joined to question him. //God, am I supposed to stay calm here, with this sick motherfucker? Sure, I'll try, but one wrong word from him, and I just might not care about the consequences//

- So, Gelb, the video store, is that where you came in contact with Philip Dumont and Roy Munson?

- Who?

Gelb half sat in the chair, heavily resembling a sack of potatoes, that had just carelessly been thrown there. Dirty clothes, a face that hadn't seen a razor for weeks, and a sneer completed the ugliest picture John had seen in ages.

- Oh, don't give me that shit, Gelb. Just don't, do you hear me?

- Look, I really don't have any idea what you're talking about. I don't know who those guys are.

- Then why did you try to run?

- Me and a buddy have a bootleg operation going down, which I guess you know isn't totally legal. I thought you had come for that.

- Really...

John's voice was dripping with contempt, and he had to start pacing around the room, just to make sure he stayed away from Gelb.

- So you didn't make contact with Dumont and Munson in the video store, is that what you're saying?

- Since I don't even know who they are...basically, yeah, that's what I'm saying.

//If you would only wipe that sneer off your face, I just might believe you// John went on as if he hadn't heard what Gelb had said.

- They came in to the video store, rented an occasional gay porn video, you got their addresses that way, and just found it fit to pay them a visit, didn't you? You hate gay men, but you can't stay away from them. You're repulsed and attracted at the same time. You're a confused and malignant son of a bitch!

- Whatever...

- Don't think for a second that I don't know what you did to Larry Robinson. If you did it once, there's no reason why you wouldn't do it again.

- I spent my time in jail for that. Besides, I didn't kill him, as you should be aware of if you're so well informed.

- No, you just made sure he can't ever walk again. He'll be in a wheel chair for the rest of his life.

- Why do you care about some pervert?

That sneer again. //Control yourself, John. You can do it. Remember, Bailey is out there watching// But the rage John feels is beyond control, boss watching or not. He turns around, slaps Gelb, then grabs him by his shirt, drags him up from the chair and slams him into the wall.

- He's a human being, you bastard.

Just when John raises his fist to ram it into Gelb's face, Bailey rushes in and grabs him. John reluctantly lets go and finds himself being practically dragged out of the interrogation room. //Damn it, Bailey. Does everything need to be done by the book all the time? It would have made my day to beat the shit out of the sucker//

- John, what the hell was that?

- Oh, come on Bailey. You saw him in there.

- Yeah, and I saw you.

John didn't particularly feel like being questioned himself, so quickly tried to change the subject.

- He's got it in him, Bailey.

- I'm beginning to think you've got it in you too.

*****

John lay on his bed. It was close to midnight, and sleep didn't seem to be an option. His thoughts wandered to what had happened during the last days. //Damn you, George. I wish I'd never met you. I wish you'd never begun working for us. Of course, I'd never had found out that I could feel this way. Love...//John chuckled bitterly to himself. //How about that John. You go through your life for almost 30 years thinking you know who you are, and one day someone, an almost criminal, crosses your path, and what happens? You start falling, don't you? Next thing you know you look at him, and all you want is for his arms to wrap around you and never let go. Oh you're such a baby, John. A grown up man, wanting to be held. Get over it,

will you//

John lay on his bed twisting and turning for a few more hours before sleep finally came. He woke from his own scream. //What was that?// John suddenly had the strangest sensation that something not totally unpleasant had just happened to him. He looked down at his groin, where the feeling was more urgent than anywhere else. //Oh no...not again// John was suddenly aware that he had, as so many times before, had a wet dream about George, and had screamed his name. He never came so hard as when he thought about George. He usually did when jerking off, but recently these erotic dreams had started to appear when he was sleeping, and he came just as hard then. //Damn you, George. Can't you ever leave me alone? If it feels like this when you're not even here, how will it feel when you're actually present? What!? Oh, like that's gonna happen, John. Besides, if it did happen you'd probably be so nervous you wouldn't get it up// John sighed, got up and started getting himself ready for another day of hell at work.

*****

When John had parked his car and gotten out, he noticed that George had arrived at exactly the same time. //Oh, brilliant. "Hi George, thanks for giving me a mind blowing orgasm just an hour ago. Oh, right, you don't know you did, do you?"// John tried to pretend not to see George, looking and walking straight forward.

- Good morning, John.

//Just my luck//

- Good morning, George.

//What do I do now? If he starts talking to me with that wonderful voice of his, I'm not sure I can keep from telling him how I feel, and wouldn't that just be lovely. I can hear him: "Sorry, John. Of course I'm gay and all, but you're not my type. Maybe I can introduce you to some friends of mine?" I wouldn't be interested in your fucking friends, George. I'm not exactly sure how interested I am in men at all, but I know I want you// John decided now would be as good a time as any to start putting some distance between them, since George hadn't seemed to gotten the message yesterday. John kept walking without starting up any conversation. George looked a bit puzzled. //And why did you notice that, John? Because you have to look at him all the time, don't you?// When they got in to the room where they had their meetings, George immediately sat down by his computer. John took his usual seat, on the other side of the table from where George sat. The others hadn't arrived yet, except for Bailey who was in his office talking on the phone. They sat in silence for a while, both stealing quick glances at each other, when they thought the other wasn't looking. Everytime John looked up and caught George's eyes, it felt like electricity rushing through him. Somewhat like he could remember it feeling when he'd had a crush on his neighbour's daughter when he was in his early teens.

//Only a hundred times worse...or better. Oh God, where will this end?// John suddenly felt very tired. The lack of sleep mixed with this situation that he couldn't quite handle was starting to get to him. He bent forward and buried his head in his hands, as if thinking the confusion would go away if he did.

- Are you alright, John?

George's voice was like a soft caress to John's ears, and for a moment his thoughts drifted away. //I wonder what it would be like going to bed at night, his arms around me, and that voice lulling me into sleep...//

- John? Come on, talk to me.

George's concerned voice brought John back to reality, and he suddenly realized that George was close. Very close. When he inhaled he could easily smell the other man. He smelled of some cologne that John thought was just perfect on him. And of coffee. And of something that he couldn't put his finger on, something that was simply George. When he looked up he saw that George was squatting beside him by the chair, and for a moment their eyes met, and the electricity was there again. //For me that is. George probably doesn't even know what's going on in my mind right now. If he did, no way would he sit this close. Would he...?// George carefully laid his hand on John's arm, and to John's surprise he tentatively started stroking back and forth, all the while watching John's face. John noticed a trace of uncertainty in George's eyes. //Oh my God...he's waiting to see if I will slap his hands away. He's expecting to be rejected. This is my big chance. I push his hands off of me, and that will be it. That will create a rift between us, that can't be repaired. Only, that's not what I want is it? Besides, I don't know if he's touching me as a friend, or if there's something else that I can read in to this. Do I even want to know?//

- I'm alright, George. Just didn't sleep so well last night, that's all.

John had hardly finished the sentence, when Sam and Bailey entered. They all greeted each other quickly, then George got up from his sitting position, but didn't immediately take his hand off of John's arm. Instead he let it rest there until he was standing, then stroked his hand all the way up to John's shoulder, and let the top of his fingers briefly touch John's neck. John couldn't help but notice how good it felt, and involuntarily made a small sound. Silent enough, but when he looked at George, who had returned to his chair, he realized at least he had heard. Their eyes locked for only a few seconds, but to John it seemed like forever before he could take his away from George's. Luckily, Sam and Bailey were looking through some files and hopefully hadn't noticed. He sneaked another glance at George, who had begun starting up his computer. //Right, George. Confuse me, then start working as if nothing happened// When all four of them were gathered around the table, things got busy and there was no time to think about things that didn't concern work. This was also the case the next couple of days. John liked it when things were busy, but now he *needed* it. It took his mind off George, and that gentle touch a few days ago, that had made John wonder if maybe his feelings weren't so unrequited as he thought they were. //Now, shouldn't that make me happy? Then why does it scare me no end at the same time?//

*****

John was standing outside the building. He had told the others he needed some fresh air. //And get away from George// They had made some break through during the last days, but still no real solution was in sight. John had had to realize that Stephen Gelb, however big a scumbag he was, hadn't murdered Dumont and Munson. They had also come to the conclusion that the murders most probably had nothing to do with gay bashing. Suddenly John's cell phone rang.

- Agent Grant.

- Hello, Agent Grant. This is Andrea Brown, we've spoken earlier.

- Yeah, I remember. What can I do for you?

- The question is, what can I do for you, Agent Grant.

A few seconds of silence.

- I'm listening.

- I thought you would. I've got some information you might be interested in. Come to my place tonight at 9.00. Alone.

- What information...

But the line was already dead.

*

The rest of the day went on as normal. They checked up on a few clues they had gathered but so far it was to no avail. Sam had told them she believed the killer was a cop. And possibly a woman. In the back of his mind John thought that maybe Andrea Brown knew who the killer was. It wasn't common that cops squealed on each other, but it had been known to happen. John decided not to tell anyone about his upcoming meeting. Bailey would go nuts when he found out, but John figured that a woman like Andrea Brown shouldn't be any danger to him. Besides, she had sounded honest on the phone. Like she wanted to share her information, to stop more men from meeting the same fate as Dumont and Munson. John knocked on Brown's door at exactly 9.00 pm.

- Agent Grant. Come inside.

- Hello Andrea.

For just a few seconds John noticed that Andrea looked as if she was partly made of ice. Her smile never reached her eyes. //Oh well, I'm not here for a reason that's supposed to be laughed at, am I?// John felt that he should just take whatever information she had and get out of there. They talked for a while about her father who'd been a policeman as well. He had died taking a bullet for his partner, which she seemed to be slightly obsessed with. It suddenly dawned on John that Andrea was not what she appeared to be. //Oh, you're so smart, John. Sam tells you she thinks the killer is a woman cop. And what do you do? You go home to a woman cop, alone, 'cause she says she has "information". A bit late now to put one and one together, though// John was just about to come up with an excuse to leave, when he heard her voice, sharp as a razor.

- Put your hands over your head, and move to the bedroom.

John did as he was told. With a gun pointing at his neck it seemed like the wisest thing to do.

- On your knees.

John did what she had told him to do, and was handcuffed. John felt his heart rate increasing, and started sweating. //This is not happening// But training and years in the business soon kicked in, and he realized he had to calm her down in any way. He remembered her talking a lot about her father, who had obviously not been pleased with her.

- This is not what your father would've wanted, Andrea.

- You didn't know him. You don't know what he would've wanted.

//Didn't that go well?//

- No, but...

John thought about what to say next, but before he could speak he heard Andrea's voice again.

- I tried so hard...

//What?!//

- ...to be what he wanted me to be. But it was never enough.

//Okay, if that's what she wants to talk about. Anything to get out of here//

- He was wrong, Andrea. He had no right to treat you the way he did.

John had a hard time keeping his voice steady, but what he'd said seemed to calm her down. Not for long though, and John kept on talking, saying things he hoped was what she wanted to hear.

-...the only thing you couldn't be was his son.

- I disgraced him...

- No...

- ...everything he stood for...

John noted with distress that she didn't seem to calm down much, but at least she hadn't shot him. //Yet// He heard something behind him that could only be described as a quiet sob. John thought she might be losing it //as if she hasn't already// and only survival instinct kept him talking.

- You had to be yourself, not what he wanted you to be.

Silence. John couldn't keep from slowly turning his head. Andrea looked like she was in a faraway place, and hadn't it been for the handcuffs, he probably could have over powered her. Just as slowly John turned his head back again. A few more seconds of silence, and then a shot echoed through the apartment.

*****

- We're gonna talk about this, John. I'm letting you off the hook for now, but you and I *will* have a discussion.

- Yes, fine...

John knew he shouldn't talk to his boss like that, but since he had just been closer to dying than ever before in his life, he didn't care. Not right now, anyway.

- How the hell could you be so stupid? You never do things like this without any back up, John. You know that very well.

- Yes. //Whatever//

- Look, John. What happened here was pretty traumatic. I think you should see someone about it. Maybe not right away, but you shouldn't wait too long either.

Sam. Always understanding. //She probably agrees with Bailey, but at least she doesn't yell. Thank God for that. I don't need this shit right now// John suddenly felt very tired, and just wanted to go home and sleep.

- I'll be in at nine, and I don't need counceling.

With those words John walked away, leaving Sam and Bailey to take care of the rest. He just couldn't bother at the moment.

*****

Back at his apartment, John took off his clothes right away. They had blood all over them, and John didn't feel they would ever be clean again. On the surface perhaps, but he didn't feel the need to keep them around as a constant reminder of what had happened this night. Then he showered, brushed his teeth and lay down on his couch, pulling a blanket over himself. An hour went by, without him being able to fall asleep. Then the door bell rang. //Oh please. Not Bailey. Anyone but him// John ran to his bedroom to put on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, then went to open the door. When he saw who it was he only stared, unable to speak. Outside his door stood George, looking very tired. And upset. //About what?//

- Hi, John. Can I come in?

John still had trouble finding his voice, and just kept staring at George who, although he looked more tired than John had ever seen him before, was as beautiful as always. George didn't have the patience to wait for

John to decide himself, so he just slowly walked past him, stroking his arm softly while doing it. //What is it with you and arms, George? And what is it with my heart beating faster every time you touch me like that? Hadn't I decided to forget about you? Oh right, my mind decided that, not my heart. Big difference there// John closed the door and walked after George who was pacing around in his living room, looking not very happy.

- Bailey called me.

George's voice wasn't totally steady, and this pacing around thing was very unusual behavior for him. George wasn't exactly known for showing any temper whatsoever.

- Oh...

- Oh! Is that all you can say? What the hell where you thinking, John?

- I wasn't, as I'm sure Bailey told you.

John tried to sound as if what happened to him tonight wasn't a big deal. But as he had expected, George wouldn't buy it. //Damn you, George. Why do you have to care about me? I'm madly in love with you and you *care* about me. That just doesn't match, I'm afraid//

- Look, Bailey might have given you a hard time, but that's because you scared the shit out of him. And Sam. You know how she always manages to stay calm on the outside? Well, Bailey told me she wasn't so calm when he took her home.

- I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't mean to scare anyone. I just went to Andrea's house 'cause she told me she had some information. She wanted me

to come alone.

- Well, of course she did. What the hell did you expect?

George was nearly screaming now, and John realized he had never heard him do that before. He wasn't sure he liked it. They'd had minor arguments before, but George had never been this angry at him ever. And before, John hadn't always been in love with the man either. He was now, and it made George's anger hurt even more. But no way was he gonna show his feelings. He didn't *really* think George would be upset if he told him how he felt, he wasn't the type who would use it against you. //No, he'd probably feel bad about not feeling the same. Sweet George. Always so nice// But showing your feelings left and right wasn't something you did if you had been raised in the Grant family.

- Are you finished, George? ' Cause I need to get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow, and so do you.

John's voice was sharp, and most people wouldn't press the issue further, but George wasn't intimidated.

- Bailey also told me you didn't want counceling. What's that about? A woman holds you captive, and then shoots herself only inches away from you. Don't you think you might need some help dealing with that?

- We all deal with things in our own ways.

John's voice revealed no emotions whatsoever, and George just looked at him, shaking his head slowly.

- Cut the crap now, will you? Please John.

George's voice was back to normal now, and he looked at John with an expression that he couldn't exactly read. Then he took a few steps forward to stand just inches away from John.

- Why do you fight it, John?

John looked down not sure what to say. //Fight what?//

- John?

John suddenly thought he understood what George meant, and decided to be at least a bit co-operative.

- Look, I'll think about counceling, okay?

- That's good, John. But it's not what I'm talking about here.

//Oh God, no...can't be...dreams don't come true for John Grant. They just don't//

- Then what are you talking about?

John tried to sound casual, but wasn't sure he did. Then, before he could react, George closed the last distance between them. They now stood so close they touched.

- I'm talking about this, John. Me standing this close to you. You not objecting when I do it. You looking at me in the office whenever you can.

John shrugged and looked down, blushing. //I thought you didn't see that//

- It's okay, John. The only reason I know that is because I've been looking at you just as much.

George smiled sweetly at him, then before he knew it, he put his arms around John and held him tightly. It seemed like ages before they broke the embrace. John had, after a few seconds, put his arms around George's back and returned the hug with all the strength he could manage without crushing the man. //So dreams do come true after all?// George suddenly loosened his hold on John, stepped back and looked into the eyes of the man he had been in love with almost since the first day they met. Then he tentatively touched John's lips with his own. John reacted to the new sensation of feeling stubble when kissing, but it took him only seconds to realize he liked it. And George smelled so good. So manly. And he still had his strong arms around John while kissing him softly. They broke the kiss, but didn't stop holding each other. John put his head on George's shoulder, and just let himself enjoy the feeling of being held by the man he never thought he would have. Finally, George spoke.

- You've had a rough day, I think we should get you to bed.

- Will you stay? //Please stay//

- If you want me to...

- I do.

John checked the door and turned the lights in the living room off. George stood watching him while he did. Then they walked to John's bedroom. John pulled the comforter down, and sat on the bed watching George take everything but his boxers off. George laid his clothes on a nearby chair, then sat down beside John. He lifted his hand to John's face and stroked gently. John closed his eyes and leaned in to the touch.

- Let's go to sleep, John.

- Okay.

- Do you always have a t-shirt on when you sleep?

George smiled at him, and John's heart took an extra leap.

- No...

John smiled back at George, shyly.

- If I promise to look away, will you take it off then?

John rolled his eyes at George, who was laughing softly, and took off his t-shirt, tossing it on top of George's clothes.

- Sleep then?

George looked at him, that wonderful smile ever present on his face. John nodded.

- Sleep.

John climbed in to bed, waiting to pull the comforter up till George had done the same. He turned the lights off, and then they lay quietly beside each other for a few moments, till John spoke.

- George?

- Yes?

- Um...I liked it when you held me...

A few moments of silence.

//God, how stupid did that sound, John? Like a little boy, needing someone to hold him to keep the nightmares away//

- Come here then...

- Look, if you don't want to...

- I said, come here.

George's voice was gentle, but left no room for argument. He held out one of his arms, inviting John to lie down against his chest. John needed no further persuasion. He moved himself closer to George, till they lay cuddled together, George's arms around John holding him close, and John's arm around George's chest. John tried to stay awake as long as possible. He still had a hard time believing this was really happening, and he felt he didn't wanna miss a thing. When he finally fell asleep, it was with a total sense of security he realized he'd never felt before in all his life.


END