Consummation

by beloiseau

Occurs after Reunion I and II. Features all the members of the VCTF, but focuses mainly on Sam and Bailey.

Disclaimer: Profiler (and its characters!) belong to NBC, Sanders/Moses Productions, Cynthia Saunders and Stephen Kronish, and to the powers-that-be at Court TV. No copyright infringement intended. I am a simple fan who is just "borrowing" them for a time.

Rating: PG 13 (some strong language, not too graphic); SBR

Notes: 'Consummation' takes place some time after 'Reunion II' (let's say at about the middle of the Fourth Season). Let's face it, I didn't like how they left it. It was as though the writers had never even watched the first season or listened to the dialogue between Jack and Sam the few times they "met." There were so many clues…So, this is my attempt to bring closure to the characters with due respect to their respective histories.

Flashbacks appear indented and framed as follows: bunch of words

Thoughts unuttered appears as follows: ("unspoken thoughts")

Sam's insights appear indented, in blue italics as follows: insight insight insight (and, it has developed a bit, as well!)

Feedback is desired and welcomed at bg@trimedianet.com

Be gentle -- first-timer!

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CONSUMMATION

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Consummation: "Con'sum'ma "tion" – n.

1. the act of consummating (such as the physical act sealing the marriage bond)
2. the ultimate end or finish

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I. PROLOGUE

"…(E)xiled from the face of light and shine of morning,

In this dark World, a narrow house! I wander up and down:

I hear Mystery howling in these flames of Consummation.

When shall the Man of future times become as in days of old?

O weary life! Why sit I here and give up all my powers?"

William Blake – The Lament of Albion

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Jack had shot Bailey Malone … had captured Samantha Waters and spirited her away from the mountain cabin where she had gone to rest while he lay there on the ground fighting for his life. He had failed again to protect her, despite the vow he had made to himself years ago. He had awoken in the hospital, a feeling of powerlessness dwarfing the pain resulting from Jack's pistol shot to his chest.

Jack had held Sam captive for days, trying to convince her that she was "just like him": that she could learn to relish the kill and the omnipotence felt by the serial killer when ending a life.

With the help of a new Profiler, Rachel Burke, Malone and the Violent Crimes Task Force (VCTF) had finally tracked Jack down and rescued Sam. Having failed to convert Sam, Jack then played his "ace in the hole," replacing the therapist she had hired to counsel her daughter and filling Chloe's head with dark thoughts regarding her mother's role in his death eight years earlier. Jack had taken Chloe to the cemetery where her father was buried, in order to force a final showdown with Sam.

Jack's aim had always been to isolate Sam from those who loved her, leaving her alone with the realization that the only "one for her" was Jack himself. Or at least, that was the closest motive the team and its profiler(s) had formulated for Jack's actions.

Sam had shot Jack, ending eight years of haunting and mind-numbing games, ensuring that he never had the chance to hurt any of them again. She was free.

Malone had come to her with the news that an internal investigation had deemed her shooting of Jack "self-defense." He had found her at her desk, finishing some correspondence.

"Good news!" he placed her gun and badge on the desk in front of her. "You've been cleared of any wrong-doing. Jack's shooting was labeled self-defense."

His smile met with a melancholy look, as Sam stood and handed him her letter. Her letter of resignation.

"I don't suppose it would make a difference if I tore this up?" he asked her.

"Chloe needs me," Sam told him, tears in her eyes. "She needs for me to be a 'normal mother.' Do you understand?"

There was to be no happy ending. She was leaving behind her career as a profiler. Leaving him. Everything appeared to be occurring in slow motion. Her eyes, filled with tears, her arms holding him.

"Let me know where you are?" Malone asked, his eyes wet as well, as he hugged her. His voice seemed to come from far away.

"Of course…" she agreed, nodding numbly.

Tears ran down Sam's face. Malone struggled to hold his back. She had made her choice. He wouldn't make it more difficult for her than it was.

Sam brushed away her tears and backed away. "I wrote these for Grace and George and John." She handed him other letters. "Could you just…" They hugged fiercely, as Malone resisted the urge to brush the hair out of her eyes.

And she couldn't get the rest out.

Malone somberly took the letters. "Of course."

Malone's phone began to ring. He let it ring. His eyes spoke volumes to Sam. Hers answered back. The phone continued to ring.

"See ya, Malone" Sam whispered to herself and headed for the door. Malone answered the phone. Sam gazed at him through the glass window. She hesitated then strode purposefully down the hall and out the building.

He had dispatched the caller quickly, and turned to find her gone. Again.

He hadn't told Sam how he felt. She was beginning a new life with Chloe, free from Jack. He couldn't chain her down.

But somewhere, deep inside him, a roar began, forming in the depths of his heart and swelling until he could no longer hold it in. "NO!" He couldn't let it end like this, not without telling her how he felt. Time to risk it all on one throw of the dice.

He had driven like a wild man, running a few orange lights, pulling up in front of her house with a screech and parking behind the half-full moving van. He stood on her front porch a little out of breath, with absolutely no idea how to express what he wanted to say.

This house, purchased after the VCTF had caught Donald Lucas and mistakenly believed him to be Jack (as the master killer had intended all along), unnerved him. Sam had been so thrilled to trade in the prison-like environment of the Firehouse for the white picket fence and the bay windows. It had all been short-lived. Just when they least expected it, when the nightmare finally seemed to be over, Jack "rose again" like a Phoenix.

But it was finally over. It had all ended in the cemetery. Sam had taken back her life. She was free, and there was no reason for her to leave. If he could just find the words to make her understand. She could stay, they would find a way to help Chloe.

Damn it, he couldn't stand it if she left him again. During the kidnapping, Malone had deemed "unacceptable" Rachel's opinion that Jack would kill Sam if she didn't prove herself a worthy ally. Rachel had confronted him directly, making him face what he had been hiding for such a long time: Malone loved Sam, in a way that nearly consumed him and dwarfed all other considerations, defied all logic.

He stood at her door and hesitated. The door swung open, as Sam carried out a box destined for the moving van. She nearly collided with Malone.

"Bailey…?" Sam looked at him quizzically.

Malone took the box from her and set it down on the porch.

"Can I come inside, please?" His hands were trembling, so he thrust them into his coat pockets.

"I thought we said our 'good-byes' at the office…We only do this part every three years, remember?" Sam attempted humor to disguise her discomfort.

"Please…?" Malone's voice shook, and Sam was surprised at the urgency in his voice.

She stepped aside to let him enter and headed for the kitchen. "Shall I pour you some coffee? You know my coffee habit. The coffee maker's going to be the last thing to go…" She was blathering.

Malone sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and stared at the now-barren kitchen. "I don't know how to do this." He shook his head slowly. "I planned what I was going to say on the way up here, but seeing you… "

"Bailey…please…"

("Please don't say it. If you only knew…Please don't make me hurt you more than I already have.")

"When I brought you back to Atlanta…we needed your skills as a profiler… it was to give you a chance to reclaim your life. Then, Jack resurfaced, I knew you had to find him, put an end to all the hiding and the pain…

"And we did it, Bailey. We finally found that bastard and ended it for good…" Sam attempted to soothe him.

"But it was more than that… I had missed you… maybe it was selfish, but I had to see you, talk to you every day… When Jack kidnapped you, part of me was held prisoner right along with you. I wanted…needed…to keep you safe…"

Sam placed her hand on Malone's arm, and focused her blue eyes on his face. "You didn't let me down, Bailey. You were there for me and Chloe. You kept us safe."

It was too hard. He couldn't handle this any longer. Malone stood up moved to Sam's side.

"You don't understand," Malone reached out a hand and slowly slid it down Sam's cheek, "I… love you…always have."

For one long moment, they hesitated, staring into each other's eyes. Unspoken emotions exchanged at the speed of light. Then Malone pulled Sam to him gently and their lips met hungrily. He felt her hands move to the back of his neck. Their connection was total.

Feelings held in check for so long threatened to overwhelm them. He felt her sigh.

Sam broke the kiss and looked up at him. She gently disentangled herself and pulled away suddenly. "Bailey…" she stepped away. "I can't…. I'm sorry…. " A single tear rolled down her cheek. "You're my best friend… Chloe and I have been through so much." She brushed away the tear with the back of her hand. "Every time I look in your eyes…. I see what happened…. our lives in turmoil because of 'Jack.'"

Malone turned to go. She had chosen again.

"Malone…" she called after him, tears making his name nearly unintelligible.

Hope sprang to life in his heart, only to be cruelly extinguished as he turned to her and listened to her next words.

"Always be my friend."

BAILEY

"He tried to like the notion of waiting for her better than that of winning her…

He would annihilate the years of his life as if they were minutes – so little

did he value his time on earth beside her love.…

How little care he had for anything but as it bore upon the consummation"

Thomas Hardy – The Crowd

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In the end, Jack had won, had ensured that they could never be together. Malone was left to his work, his world.

He had done his best to forget her, bury himself in his job. It had always been his salvation; it would serve that purpose again. There was certainly no shortage of cadavers and violent, unsolved murders to justify the fourteen-hour days, he often noted ironically to himself. Some nights he didn't even bother going home, merely stretching out on the couch in his office for a few hours of sleep.

But nothing was the same. Malone had recruited a new profiler, but Rachel wasn't Sam. He knew that he needed to coach her, guide her so that her talents could best be used to serve the team, but his heart wasn't in it, and she seemed to routinely delight in putting herself in danger, without a thought to the consequences.

It was like a child's puzzle. He had tried to put the pieces together once more, combining them in all the possible variations. But one piece was missing and the picture would never be complete again.

George Fraley, the VCTF's computer expert, had had a severe car accident and had developed a drug dependency, jeopardized an investigation through a moment's inattention. He had been forced to suspend George, a move that hurt him very much. Grace Alvarez' marriage was on the rocks. The frequent shouting matches between Grace and her husband via cell phone attested to the strain caused by the criminal pathologist's dedication to her career. And John Grant, his hot-shot operational agent, had lost his companion in a bank hold-up gone wrong, alternating between wallowing in a pit of self-pity and entertaining the ranks with a Don Juanism Malone thought he had outgrown. Something was also obviously going on between John and Rachel, but he didn't have the patience to decipher just what.

What the hell was wrong with them all? It wasn't that he didn't care, but rather that he couldn't care.

He knew that he was running them ragged, demanding more, still more, of their time and their skills. But, he didn't like to go home. The nights brought dreams of Sam and Jack, reminding him that he had failed to take care of her and that they would never have a chance to see "what might have been." Work was his only salvation, and he would take on any and all cases, as many as it would take to make him forget.

The VCTF's budget was up for renewal before Congress. Malone's actions and methods were under scrutiny and particularly now, under fire. The VCTF's fate was up for grabs, and frankly, Malone didn't think the outcome mattered to him.

SAM

"…And by a sleep to say we end

The heartache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, t'is a consummation

Devoutly to be wished…"

William Shakespeare – Hamlet, Act iii, Sc. 1

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He would always be her friend. Sam had hung on to this thought as though to a life raft in the months that followed. Chloe needed her, and Chloe was the only one that counted.

She was on auto-pilot. Atlanta had been the setting of their worst nightmares. They had to leave Atlanta.

They had spent the last three years surrounded by four walls, security systems, and armed guards. She would give Chloe wide open space and freedom.

She wouldn't look back. Tears filled her eyes as they pulled away from their house for the last time. Chloe sat sullen in the seat next to her.

She was leaving a part of her behind, here in Atlanta. The part that fought to serve and protect others. A piece of her heart. The only one to whom she owed anything now was Chloe.

It would take time, much time, but Sam was determined to rebuild her relationship with her daughter. Jack had filled her head with insidious, evil thoughts. Sam only hoped that he had not tainted her soul, that somewhere, deep inside, Chloe knew the truth.

In the end, Jack had used the most effective weapon possible: Tom Waters, ripped from her life so cruelly, in the blink of an eye. When Chloe was younger, Sam hadn't spoken to her much about Tom, hadn't known how to do so really. There was so much pain when she thought about how Jack had changed the course of their lives irretrievably. Chloe had seen Jack the night of Tom's death. She wanted her daughter to grow up as normally as possible, without having to face the demons Sam confronted every day, in the daylight.

And Chloe had seemingly accepted this, rarely even asking about him. Sam made her living "profiling": how could she have so misread her own daughter? In the last year, Sam had wanted to speak to Chloe about her father, needed to clear the air. But Jack was always there, a ghost in the shadows.

Sam had thought there would always be time for that "later." When Donald Lucas was put behind bars, she thought their "time" had come. Wrong again. Just another twist in the sick game played by Jack. She had almost lost her daughter. She would never waste their time again.

Time. Yes, time and patience had indeed finally done their work. Sam had moved them to a ranch in Calumet, Kentucky, where the air was pure and their neighbors friendly. And, Chloe had begun to trust again. Sam lived for her daughter's smile. They lived in "truth," even when it hurt.

In the end, Jack had lost.

II. PRESENT

"All that is henceforth to be thought or done…

by any one,

These inure… to the identities from

Which they sprang…

No consummation exists without being from some long previous

Consummation, and that from some other,…

The farthest conceivable one coming a bit nearer the

Beginning than any."

Walt Whitman – Leaves of Grass, "Song of Prudence"

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CHAPTER I

It had been six months since Samantha Waters' departure from the VCTF, since she had left her life in Atlanta for Kentucky, to rebuild the relationship with her daughter compromised by the serial killer Jack of all Trades. She had sent one post-card, depicting a horse running free amidst a field of green: "Calumet, Kentucky" with an address and a telephone number and "My love to all, Sam." One post-card in all that time.

Bailey Malone's day had been long, and the paperwork that lay undone in piles on his desk appeared to mock him. He was the Special Agent in Charge, damn it… couldn't they hire someone to fill-in the blanks and complete these reports?

The phone rang, violently interrupting his thoughts.

Six long months, and each time the phone rang, Malone still jumped, hoping for a brief instant that it would be her, that she had changed her mind.

"Malone," he answered brusquely, filing away his thoughts for later.

"Bailey…?" It was her voice. Even after all this time, it still moved him.

He hesitated, but managed to regain control of his trembling hands enough to respond, "Sam?"

"Bailey… I'm sorry… I… didn't know where else to turn…" her voice shook.

"What's wrong, Sam?" his heart leapt into his throat, as it had so many times in the past when Sam was in pain.

"It's Chloe…" A sob broke through… "She's disappeared… Someone took her…"

"When?" Trust Malone to cut to the chase at a time like this.

"This morning…two joggers saw it happen… there was a big white van… there was nothing they could do… The police here are just… useless…" her voice verged on the edge of hysteria.

Malone cradled the telephone receiver gently in his hand, as though he were holding her. "Hang on, Sam…. We're on our way…"

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The flight to Kentucky had taken a little over an hour on the VCTF plane. Malone had assembled the entire team for this mission, a fight to save a little girl. It wasn't on the official roster of cases. He didn't give a damn what the Bureau thought or did about it.

John Grant had liaised with the local police who had interviewed the joggers. They each had the same story. They had been out for their five-mile morning run and had seen Chloe on her bike. The girl was familiar to them, attended school with their own daughter, whom she was on her way to visit. A big white van had swooped down on Chloe, who was plucked from her bike and thrown in the back. The bike fell useless and limp to the ground. They had only been able to note a partial license plate: BKN 9__. Didn't know the make of the van.

Grace brought out a tray with steaming mugs of coffee and settled back to contemplate the landscape. She was unruffled, hoping that her particular brand of expertise would not be needed on this case.

Rachel sat with her feet up reading over Sam's file and familiarizing herself with photos of Chloe. She knew how important Sam was to Malone. They had to find Chloe fast.

George had finally rejoined the team. He sat back in his seat, typing data into his laptop. Trying to get a head-start on what would likely be a tough road ahead. A search for all white vans with licenses beginning BKN 9___ registered in Kentucky. It was like looking for needles in a haystack.

And Malone sat off by himself lost in thought, his coffee untouched. What was taking so long? Chloe's life might be hanging in the balance. His mind wandered back to the last time that he had seen Sam, the day she and Chloe had left for Kentucky. She needed him, and he wanted to be there for her once again.

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"Soulful Pines"… the hand-painted sign to Sam's farm was simple and far from ostentatious – a welcome sign to those whom she chose to invite into her home. The team arrived in two rental cars with little fanfare, but full of eagerness to get on with their jobs.

Sam was pale and shaken, as she greeted her friends. They had never seen her this subdued, as though the fight had been completely kicked out of her.

"I promise you… we'll find her.." Malone murmured as he pulled Sam into his arms. "She's going to be alright. You have to believe that." He held on to her a little longer than necessary. She felt safe in his arms, as though now that he was here, Chloe at least had a fighting chance.

'I'll try," she responded with a tentative smile.

They glanced into each other's eyes. The emotions swept in abruptly, bursting through the emotional armor: a bond undiminished by their separation. Now wasn't the time. Chloe…

Malone mobilized the team into action. John headed off to organize the police team on duty and assign territory to the search party. Rachel went up to Chloe's room to walk among her things and test for vibes. George ran background checks on the couple who had been out jogging, despite Sam's protestations that they were "neighbors and friends."

Grace sat beside her friend, holding her hand in silence as Malone supervised the installation of an electronic tracking device on Sam's telephone.

"Now what?" she asked him.

"You know the drill, Sam. Now, we wait."

Time was once again an enemy.

CHAPTER II

The white van had been abandoned in front of the police station. Someone had a very sick sense of humor.

"I want to go…" Sam had stated stubbornly when the team began to depart for the scene.

"No. We need to let them do their job. There's no one in the van. They need space to analyze the evidence…" Malone was adamant. "You and I are going to the spot where Chloe was taken."

Sam didn't argue, merely getting her purse and following him out to his car.

The kidnapper had chosen well. Most of the small road from Sam's ranch towards the town was flanked by open fields, with a few dwellings and stables interspersed along the way. He or she had chosen a curve in the road, shielded from view by tall oak trees.

Sam stepped out of the car as Malone came to a stop. He hung back and let her approach the site herself, allowing her the room to see and feel.

They both noticed the bush of blood red roses that formed the backdrop to the yellow "Police – do not cross" ribbons strung in a five foot circle.

Sam felt nothing. She shivered and tried to concentrate. Malone placed his coat around her shoulders.

John called from the house to request that they return. He sounded grim.

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This wasn't good. Grace's face was somber as she handed Malone the note they had found at the site. "The local police are dusting the van for prints and fiber, but this was on the front seat of the van."

The note read "Welcome, Malone! It's one am, do you know where your daughter is? Concede Her Life Of Evil. JACK is BACK!"

Malone handed the note silently to Sam.

C-H-L-O-E

Sam visibly blanched but remained silent.

Malone had swung into action automatically. "Rachel, find out where Albert Nuquay was buried and have him dug up. It seems next to impossible that this could be Jack, but let's make sure. Grace ride the forensics team. I want to know the moment they have results."

She finally uttered the words, "Just like Nick…"

The team understood. FBI agent Nick Cooper had become involved with Sam romantically. Just before his untimely death at the hands of Jack's Jill, the serial killer had left Sam one of his famous missives. "Now I Can Kill" or N-I-C-K, using the first letters of his name.

Malone continued on, as though he hadn't heard her, determined to cover all the bases. Was Jack back or was this some cruel hoax? "John, do me a favor and call Janet, make sure that she and Ariana are alright."

The team scattered to accomplish their various tasks.

Malone remained behind with Sam. He gave her a reassuring hug. "We'll find her!"

The feel of her in his arms nearly overwhelmed his senses this time. The scent of her hair awoke a stream of memories. He needed to get a grip, get back to the job at hand. Jack or a Jack-clone had taken Sam's daughter. He needed to concentrate. Chloe's life depended on it, and Sam had made it clear to him in the past that they were only friends.

Malone stepped back and flipped open his cell phone. "Until we know what's really going on here, I have to cover all the bases, call Frances, make sure she's fine," he murmured.

Sam reached out and clicked his cell phone shut. "This has nothing to do with her," she said firmly.

"I know it's farfetched… We both saw Jack die, but I have to…"

"This doesn't involved Frances… " Sam repeated.

"An insight, a flash?" Malone stopped with the cell phone still in his hand.

"A certainty," Sam turned away from him with a sigh.

"I don't understand…" Malone began.

Sam turned to face him slowly, and her eyes brimmed over with tears. Malone moved forward towards her, but she gestured him away. "I'm so sorry… Please forgive me…"

"It's not your fault, I understand. We're here to help you now, and it's going to be alright," Malone captured her hand in his and led her to the couch, where he sat down next to her.

"Nothing will ever be 'alright' again…" Sam gasped. The tears continued and metamorphosed into sobs that shook her entire body. Malone wanted to take her into his arms, brush away her tears and rock her until the fear that consumed her released its hold. But something in her demeanor stopped him.

Sam struggled to speak. "This…. isn't how I wanted it to be…."

"Tell me," Malone soothed. He had never seen her like this. He watched as emotions flooded her face haphazardly in rapid succession. Jack couldn't be back. He had watched helplessly as the serial killer had wrought havoc on her life in the past. It couldn't be happening again.

"Please don't hate me…" Sam reached out her hand and touched his arm tentatively.

"I could never hate you, kid…" Malone smiled at her, responding automatically.

"I wanted to tell you so many times…" the sobs rocketed through her body once again.

Malone waited until the tears had subsided, somehow conscious that what Sam had to say was momentous.

She finally lifted her head and focused her blue eyes on his face. "The note… 'do you know where your daughter is…' Chloe is your daughter."

Of all the things Malone could have imagined Sam saying, this had never crossed his mind. Chloe was his daughter?

"How…?" he managed, once the shock had subsided.

Sam gave a nervous giggle, "The usual way…" She always giggled when she was tense.

Malone's mind flashed back to the first time she had sent him away. It had been one night. Only one night. He would never forget it. But he had thought that he had put it far behind him:

Sam had been his student at Quantico. Her "gift" was evident from the first, an ability to "see" inside the criminal mind, understand the motives and the actions rather than just clinically assess the crime scene to produce sanitized profiles.

With time, he had become restless in his role of "instructor" to younger agents: jaded and frustrated with an administrative system that chained him, a former marine and undercover operative, to the classroom and promoted agents less qualified to high level, decision-making positions.

And unlikely as it seemed, they had become friends. Sam had sought him out, asked for his help in understanding how to focus her abilities. Her eagerness and ability had energized him. He had wanted to help mold and shape her into what he could never be.

Malone's personal life had been a shambles. He had just discovered that his wife, Janet, had had an affair. He really couldn't blame her. For much of their marriage, he had been gone a great percentage of the time – away fighting others' battles, on assignment. Even when he had been "home," he really wasn't there, always absorbed in his current case. The FBI had been his "mistress" long before Janet had cheated on him.

Sam was dating Tom Waters, an uncomplicated, bright young man who made her laugh. She had always been a serious student, and Tom was her first love. They were engaged to be married, and Tom appeared disturbed that the young woman whom he adored would be spending her daily work-days among killers and corpses.

It was Christmas. The students at Quantico had thrown a party to celebrate in style. Malone would normally have begged off, but Janet had taken the children to her mother's for the holidays after a particularly violent argument during which he had put his fist through the wall of their living room. He didn't blame her. He had paid lip-service to the idea of forgiveness, but wouldn't let her forget that she had betrayed him. It was open warfare. He decided to swing by the party when he ran out of Jameson's Scotch.

Sam was never big on parties. The crowds, the utter superficiality of such events made her nervous. But she had to get out of her apartment. Tom had been making noises about starting a family and suggesting that when they were married, she could "back-burner" her career. She was really getting tired of this, and had asked for some space to "think things through." She left her apartment, in case he decided to call her again – for the third time that evening – begging her to attend his parents' yearly Christmas bash. She really hated his parents.

On a whim, she nixed going out for dinner alone and hopped in a cab to attend the FBI party. The party was in full swing when she arrived. She was relieved, if surprised, to spot Malone off in the corner surrounded by a group of students. At least, she wouldn't spend the evening alone.

Someone thrust a glass of champagne into her hand, and she decided that tonight, just this once, she would relax, not "think so much" as everyone always accused her of doing. The bubbles tickled her nose. She wasn't accustomed to drinking, usually eschewed the practice and indeed, anything that could serve to "mask" her senses. Tonight, she just wanted to forget.

They talked, about the latest techniques in profiling, about what had brought them both out to this party tonight, a night more often associated with families and tradition. Malone, emboldened by his fourth Scotch of the evening, had asked her to dance, and Sam surprised herself by accepting.

He was a wonderful dancer. They glided effortlessly together. He was making her look good, she smiled to herself. Funny, he was thinking the same thing. They went around and around the floor, her hand in his, his hand at the small of her back. Sam felt a wonderful warmth suffuse her body at the physical contact.

When the dance was over, someone handed her another glass of champagne, and she realized that she was very thirsty.

Sam began to enjoy herself, relishing the freedom of being herself, not just half of some entity known as "Tom-n-Sam." From time to time, she would catch Malone's eye across the room and smile.

The champagne flowed.

As the evening came to an end, Malone gallantly offered to drive her home as she had had a little too much to drink. Ironic, because she could swear that he was far less sober than she. She accepted anyway.

"Do you want to come in for some coffee?" Sam asked, standing at the door to her apartment. Their eyes locked, and seconds ticked away like days. The air was stiff with electricity. It had been that way since the ride home. He had placed his hand under her elbow to help her into his car, and the current had filled the air between them.

She wanted to touch him. To take his hand and…. ("What on earth was she thinking…!")

Her lips were inviting. If he could just kiss her, he would be able to breathe again. ("Repeat after me… 'I'm married.'")

"Really, it's not a life or death choice!" she giggled nervously, tossing her hair back. "The coffee, that is…" He reached across the short distance that separated them and curled his fingers in her hair, pulling her to him gently as he had wanted to do all night. His mouth sought hers hungrily. His arms around her felt so damn comfortable.

They moved into her apartment, the door slamming shut behind them.

Her hands reached up to touch the back of his neck.

("Was she insane? What about Tom?")

The kiss went on. Their bodies shifted imperceptibly closer. He reached out his hand and traced the line of her face from her hairline down the length of her cheek. "You're so beautiful," he said, dazed. He pulled her to him again, his fingers interlacing her own.

("He needed to stop this… had to stop this now before it went any further…")

But something much more powerful was drawing them together, and there was no turning back.

She laughed and reached for him.

Their coming together was an explosion. Mouth seeking mouth and hands seeking hands in graceful choreographies all their own. She didn't remember removing his tie or unbuttoning his shirt, but somehow she must have done so, because he stood bare-chested and muscular before her. His hands trembled as he undid the buttons to her blouse and slowly pushed the fabric down her shoulders. He undressed her until nothing separated them but skin.

He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom; their lips never parted, not even for a moment. Sam felt safe in his arms. Malone felt her heart beat against his chest.

He laid her gently out onto the bed, and began to gently explore her body, taking care of her. No one had ever made love to her as carefully or as worshipfully. He knew exactly what to do and how. She moaned and called his name. He caressed every part of her body.

She was right (or he was right?) their coming together was an explosion of colors and senses. A melding of bodies perfectly matched and energies totally in tune. Perfection.

When it was over, they fell into the deepest slumber either had experienced in weeks.

He had awoken the next morning with a start. Where the hell was he? His lips felt parched and his head was ready to explode. He slowly moved his limbs and opened his eyes. A shadowy form lay next to him. Not Janet. Long blonde hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo. He groaned internally as he remembered. He had lost his mind, seduced his student. What had he done?

He had hurriedly dressed in the dark, gently picking Sam's clothes off the floor where they had been flung and placing them on a chair. He turned to look at Sam one last time and let himself out of her apartment silently.

The rain fell in streams and ran down his face, mingling with his tears, as he hunched his shoulders and headed into the wind to locate his car.

They had later agreed to pretend that it had never happened. Sam was engaged to marry Tom. Bailey was her teacher. She had had too much to drink, had fought with Tom, wasn't herself. Out of confusion and a desire to make "everything right" again in her world, he had quickly labeled it a "mistake." They had agreed never to speak of it again. He hadn't protested, but he had never forgotten.

A memory buried deep, deep in Malone's sub-conscious. The first time she had sent him away. Covered by layers and layers of self-imposed honor and respect. They had managed to salvage their working relationship, and had built up a special friendship more enduring and caring than many marriages.

But, this? Why now? Their "mistake" had had far-reaching ramifications.

"I need to understand," Malone looked up at Sam unseeingly. He had heard the words, but was struggling valiantly not to jump to any conclusions.

"Ask me anything you want," Sam responded, subdued. She had no more tears to cry. Tonight, she might lose her best friend: the one man she needed above all in her life. He was entitled to answers. She needed his strength to find Chloe.

"You knew… that Chloe was 'mine'… when you married Tom?" Anger tinged his question. She couldn't have done that, lied to Tom, lied to everyone, kept him from his own daughter. Not the Sam he knew, not "his" Sam.

"No. I didn't know then," she hurried to respond. "After 'that night,' I went back to my life. I hung on to it with both hands, Malone. Tom and I married. I had no reason to believe she wasn't his baby." Sam tucked her hair behind her ears, another nervous habit he remembered too well.

"How long have you known?" Always practical, always logical, trust Malone to go to the heart of the situation. How long had this deception gone on?

"A year." Sam uttered simply. Just twelve short months. While she fought off the demons outside and inside her.

Silence resounded through the room, filling all its corners. A clock continued to beat on the side table, its ticking vastly out of place.

Sam frowned, trying to read Malone's mind. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Damn it, why was it always so hard to read his thoughts?

"You should have told me." Malone's fury was tightly controlled, hovering beneath the surface of his short clipped statements. She recognized that tone. Saw the effort it took for him to choke back the words and remain calm. It leveled her. She had never wanted to hurt him. Far from that.

"You don't know how many times I wanted to do just that…."

"Sam, damn it. You had months. You lied to me for months." His statement struck her like a blow. He hardly ever raised his voice. The shock and pain reverberated from every fiber of his being.

Tears sprang to Sam's eyes again, and this time Malone didn't move to comfort her.

"Six months ago… We worked side by side. We were friends…You could probably have slipped it in at breakfast or after we had closed a case. Something to the tune of 'Oh, by the way, Malone, I forgot to tell you a little something: Chloe's your daughter. I've been lying through my teeth… Have a nice morning…' "

The irony hurt her. She could have told him, should have told him. He was right.

Malone continued, shifting in his seat and slamming down his coffee cup, splashing some of its contents onto the side table. "Tell me all of it… How did this happen?"

Sam dared to exhale again. He was still here. He hadn't left. She had a chance to explain.

"Just after Tom's parents sued me for custody, Chloe fell from her horse… " she began, "the doctors were forced to give her a blood transfusion."

"I remember. She was a real trooper. Couldn't wait to get back on the horse," Malone smiled to himself in spite of the circumstances.

"The blood types. Chloe's was AB… there's no way she was Tom's child. He was B+, I'm B+…"

"And my blood type is A…" Malone added.

"I know…" Malone had been shot twice in the last three years, once by his daughter Frances and once by Jack. As his trustee, Sam was unfortunately well aware of his blood type.

"And then…? Were you ever going to tell me?" the technical details out of the way, the anger was back, full-force.

"Of course… I was waiting for the right moment…" She realized how feeble that sounded. "I was with Coop… You were with Janet again… Chloe's 'grandparents' had just dragged us through the wringer. Then there was Jack. He had already attacked you… he was busy eliminating everyone around me who mattered. If he had had one little hint that you were Chloe's father…he would have destroyed you. I had lost Tom. I didn't want to lose you, too. Please try to understand…" Sam pleaded, with her eyes, with her entire being.

"It was months, Sam…Damn it! I lost a year with my daughter…" his voice shook with emotion. He left unspoken the thought that he might never have the opportunity to get to know her now.

"When Donald Lucas was caught, I finally thought it was over. We would all begin again…." Surely he could understand? It had taken her weeks to choose and purchase a new home for herself and Chloe in Atlanta, to go to the supermarket alone and make it all the way through her grocery list without fleeing.

"You should have told me. We would have kept her safe, together…" Malone shouted at her. A part of him understood. He had often marveled at her talent for compartmentalization; it had saved her sanity more than once during this mess. Another part, a section of his heart that remained scarred by her rejection, screamed out at this new wound.

"I wanted to see his face behind bars, to be sure that it was finally over. Can you understand that? Jack had taken away EVERYONE in my life who mattered. Had controlled my life, manipulated us all…"

Malone stood up and began to pace. Sam would have done anything to avoid disappointing him as she had done. She stood up and blocked his path.

"Donald Lucas was in jail. We headed up to the cabin. I was going to tell you. Try to explain all of this… You know the rest…"

Yes, he knew. Jack had resurfaced. He had kidnapped Sam and the whole nightmare had begun again.

"And after… You left Atlanta. You said nothing. Ended any chance I might have had to have her in my life. My daughter… Complete silence since you've been in Kentucky."

Sam had turned away from him, from the pain and frustration she saw in his face, the disillusionment she felt emanating from his soul.

Malone grasped her by the shoulders. "Look at me, Sam… How could you have done that? You know how much I love my children. Was it really so much to ask to share her with me?"

"Jack got inside Chloe's mind. Convinced her that I… that my job… was the reason Tom died. It took so long for us to re-connect… to undo the damage… get back to normal – or what normal would have been like without Jack. Bailey, she had finally begun to smile again… to laugh, hang out with girls and guys from the local school… be a normal adolescent. I told her about you last week."

"You what?" Shock, surprise, fury, confusion, tenderness, all battled for supremacy within him.

The door burst open suddenly, and a man strode forward shaking off John and Rachel as he came.

He headed towards Sam…"What's going on here? Who are all these people?"

He took in the scene… Sam in tears, the furious expression on Malone's face.

"What the hell are you doing? You have no right…"

"He has every right… he's my friend…. and he's Chloe's father…." Sam announced gently.

Somehow, hearing it a second time like this, made it seem more real to Malone. He was Chloe's father.

The room was filled with silence, as each person in it digested this latest bit of information. What to say? What to think?

"Who is 'Jack'?" the newcomer asked.

"Who are you?" Malone riposted.

"Malone, this is Jake Kandal… a… friend…" Sam murmured. "Jake, this is Bailey Malone…"

"Chloe's father…I thought he was dead?" Jake questioned Sam.

Sam's phone rang, saving them the effort of any explanation. Grace was on the line, and Sam hit speaker phone so they could all hear. "Bailey… Sam…I don't quite know how to say this, but… the body in Jack's grave is Albert Nuquay… I took the liberty of having them dig him up. I tested the DNA…" she paused, seemingly looking for the words.

"Jack is safely dead… that's the good news… Then, who do we have here in Kentucky?" Malone sighed. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know.

"Bailey, wait… I tested all the parts of him left intact. I found something… In his incisor tooth, a capsule containing a note. We passed it under the blue light…."

"And?" Malone questioned impatiently.

"It said: 'Fool me once…Keller, Lucas, Nuquay… Shame on you…'"

CHAPTER III

("Fool me once, 'Shame on you'… Fool me twice, 'Shame on me.'") Jack laughed to himself as he listened to their conversation. Did they finally understand? The game wasn't over… he had just been waiting, planning the last phase.

Jack was back.

The last time Sam had retired from the game, after the death of her "husband," he had spent months planning the next phase of her education. Had searched for and recruited "Jill," flattering her, shaping her, re-making her. She had been a living tool. He had been right: Samantha could kill a stranger, if her life were threatened.

Sam had followed him, devoted her life to finding him. Painstaking step by painstaking step. She had shown that she was like him, despite her protestations otherwise. She had shot him, had imagined that she had killed him in the cemetery. Samantha could kill an enemy, if her life were threatened.

This would be the final act. It seemed to him that he had been waiting for this moment all of his life. Or at least for the last eight years. Quitte ou double. Time to roll the dice. All the players were in place. And this would be by far his greatest moment.

He had been waiting and watching over Samantha for the last six months, ever since she had abandoned the game again. Watching and waiting for the moment when she would come back to him. She hadn't made one move, one sigh, one sound that he hadn't spied upon, relished. God, modern technology was wonderful!

He had heard her speak to Chloe. Couldn't believe his ears at the story that had emerged. So, Samantha had other dark sides, as well:

Chloe was sitting at the kitchen table. Sam had brought down a pile of photo albums.

"Chloe, I'd like to talk to you about your father…" Sam managed, brushing a strand of Chloe's blond hair out of her eyes. His eyes. How had she never noticed?

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," Chloe smiled at her mother, "I know how hard it is for you… because of Jack." But she was eager to talk to her mother.

They had come so far over the last few months. Released from the constant fear and surveillance, they had finally learned to breathe, to live… without constantly looking over their shoulders. Therapy had done the rest.

"No, I think we're both ready to face this," Sam said gently. She removed a few photos from an old shoebox.

"I've never seen these before…" Chloe commented, flipping through the photos. "There's you and Dad.. and here's a cool one of you and Uncle Bailey… When was this taken?"

"Christmas 1988…" Sam murmured.

She took the stack of photos from Chloe's hands and sat down. "Listen, Chlo… I'm going to tell you a little story… You might not like everything that I'm going to tell you, so you just feel free to stop me if you want."

"No, I want to know! We said there would be no more secrets, remember?"

"Ok…" Sam nodded. "Here it goes…" She sat down next to her daughter and sipped her hot chocolate. "When Albert Nuquay was pretending to be your therapist you said he told you that it was my job that caused Tom's death, that I didn't really love him. I want you to know that wasn't true!"

"You never talked about Dad when I younger…" Chloe stated tentatively. "I was afraid to ask… We kept moving….I was never sure why…I was so young… I couldn't even remember him…There weren't many pictures out…"

"Chloe, when you were young… I didn't know what to say. Jack killed him, changed our lives completely. You saw him that night. I wanted to protect you as much as possible from that."

"But you didn't. We were always hiding or living 'in prison.' Even when you didn't talk about it, it was always there on your face. Every time you left the house, I wondered if you would come back alive."

Sam hugged her daughter to her, "Oh God, Chloe…." Tears formed in her eyes. She hadn't known, hadn't even begun to guess.

She had to come clean. Set everything right at last.

"Chloe… last year I found out something… something that I had never suspected…" and Sam recounted the discovery of the differing blood types.

"So, he wasn't my father…" Chloe commented gravely. She seemed to be taking it calmly enough. She had been three years old when Tom died, hadn't really known him as her "father." It felt to her as though a missing piece of a puzzle had suddenly been supplied to her.

Sam took a deep breath and plunged ahead, telling her the story behind the Christmas 1988 photo she had seen… the PG-version.

"Did you love Bailey?" Trust a child to ask the really tough questions.

"It was a long time ago, Chloe…" She wouldn't take the coward's way out, though, "But, yeah, I think I did."

"I know you did," Chloe stated with certainty, "that's why you went back to work for him four years ago…"

"Why did he leave you… after?" Chloe blushed. Sam blushed. "Look, Mom, I'm twelve… I know how these things work…" her daughter added.

"Who knows? He and Janet were still married. He was my instructor. I had Tom…It was really complicated, even for adults. We agreed to be friends…"

Chloe sipped in silence, flipping through the stack of photos again.

"And… does he know… about me, I mean?" Her eyes bore deep into Sam's. Her little girl, forced to grow up so fast…

"Not yet, Chloe…I thought maybe you and I should get settled, feel right about things before.." Tears threatened to burst forth from Sam's eyes once again.

Chloe reached out her hand, "It's ok, Mom… I understand!"

Jack had slammed his fist down on the table in a fury Samantha, his beautiful Samantha… had given herself to that … buffoon. He had had Malone's brat in his hands… so close.. so close…

Samantha had said that she had "loved" Malone. That was impossible. The only one who mattered, who knew and understood her, was Jack himself. It was time that she finally acknowledged this.

It was time for the final test. And, unknowingly, she herself had provided him with the tools he needed.

And, so he had taken Chloe… Correction,… he had taken "Malone's bastard"… "Chloe" no longer existed for him.

It had been so simple really. No one was expecting him. He merely followed the little girl as she biked over to her best friend's house. She never made it. Jack snatched her just in front of the hedge of red roses that he had planted in Samantha's honor. Poetic. He left her bicycle behind for the VCTF. As he sped off, he was gratified to note that there were several witnesses to the kidnapping.

He was back! And better than ever.

CHAPTER IV

George had quietly withdrawn from the tense environment in the living-room shortly after Sam's announcement regarding Chloe's paternity. Somewhere, Jack had made a mistake, something that he could trace, and he was bound and determined to do so, for Sam and Bailey… and Chloe.

George set up his laptop and communications network in the first-floor den. He fiddled absentmindedly with data from his files on "Jack." Funny, he had never deleted these files, not even after Albert Nuquay was gunned down in the cemetery six months ago. And now, he was glad to be a "pack-rat."

Nuquay, Lucas, Keller… what did these three men have in common with the real Jack? He began playing a skewed version of "One of these things is not like the other"

He heard a determined scratching at the door leading outside and opened it a crack. Denzel, Chloe's dog, bounded in. George wondered how long it had been since the poor pooch had had anything to eat.

When Denzel jumped up on the door, George opened it to let him through.

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

Back in the living-room, the situation had calmed down somewhat. Sam had undertaken a short explanation to Jake regarding Chloe's disappearance, a sanitized version excluding the years of horror and dozens of bodies already to Jack's credit.

("For shame…I killed them all for you, Sam. Do I not deserve a little credit?")

Malone had silently watched this little exchange from across the room, a frown distorting his features. "Bailey?" Rachel snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Let it go, Bailey…"

Jake strode over to where Bailey stood with Rachel and extended his hand. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier…" Malone shook it briefly without comment.

" Just let me know where I can be of use. I want to help find Chloe…" Jake reached down to caress Denzel's back as he spoke, and was rewarded with a very audible growl.

Malone admired the dog's taste in humans.

"Why don't you go with Rachel, and she can integrate you into the search teams sweeping the area?" A useless task – Jack would not be found that easily -- but at least it would get this man out of their hair.

Malone gazed after Jake as he departed with Rachel. Jake. Jack. No, it couldn't be.

CHAPTER V

For a brief instant, Chloe Waters thought she was sleeping, having one of those recurring nightmares that had plagued her for weeks after her second meeting with Jack.

She reached out her hand. ("On a count of three, I'll open my eyes and be back in my room. This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.")

She could re-write this dream. Her mother had taught her how. ("Focus, Chloe. This is only a dream.") Her mom had felled the monster and saved the kingdom. And they lived happily ever after…

Cold. Damp. Dark.

She heard a crackling sound. Where was she?

The lights came on suddenly, revealing her surroundings. She blinked into the glare as she sat up, realizing that she was in a cell, walls constructed of shear rock, prison-style cot its only furniture.

A disjointed voice blared out at her from a speaker set into the wall.

"It's about time… Wouldn't want you to sleep the night away and miss all the fun, now would we?"

Chloe looked around her as her eyes adjusted to the light. She remembered taking out her bike, beginning to ride, slowing down when see saw the white van to make sure that she could see any traffic that might be coming from the other direction. Something, someone had grabbed her. Then nothing.

"Where am I?" she called out.

"In hell," came the answer.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Don't you recognize my voice, Chloe?" Jack enunciated carefully. ("Couldn't this brat be a little more original?") "Maybe this will refresh your memory…'Close your eyes…Imagine all your hatred towards your mother in a large black balloon. Now imagine that balloon sinking down into the ground, right into your father's heart…' Wasn't that a magnificent performance, Chloe?"

Chloe shuddered involuntarily, "Jack?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out…" his laughter echoed and bounced between the stone walls.

Tears formed and started trickling down Chloe's cheeks. She sobbed once. She was trying to be brave, really she was. But, this place, that voice.

"Awww…. poor little girl misses her Mommy? Don't be such a baby, it isn't worthy of your mother."

So, he could see her, as well as hear her? Chloe wiped her face with her sleeve.

"And they'll be here soon enough…" The laugh came through the loudspeaker again.

The crackling sound. Then silence.

At least he had left the lights on, Chloe thought to herself. He had also said "they" would be here soon. That meant her Mom and… Bailey. Of course! They would be looking for her. They would come for her. She just had to be ready.

She jutted out her chin and pushed up her sleeves, standing up purposefully and set out to examine the limits of her temporary prison.

CHAPTER VI

Grace arrived back at the house with the usual bad news. No prints, no hair, no bodily fluids, no fibers. As Malone glanced around the living room table, he realized that his team was reassembled once again. The picture was complete. Had it not been for the circumstances, he would have smiled.

The door-to-door searches conducted by the local police had yielded nothing, as had John's conversations with Chloe's school teachers and principal regarding anyone suspicious who might have shown an unusual interest in Chloe Waters.

"There's a body in Nuquay's grave and someone's still claiming to be Jack… Is he Houdini? How did he do that?" Rachel spoke up, determined to answer part of the "why" questions swirling through her head. Anything that might move them forward. "Or even, 'Could he have done this?'"

"He's capable of anything. He has about a million disguises," offered John. "He's walked past us as a nun, hidden in a body bag, even managed to leave a locked-down prison disguised as Bailey Malone."

"So, he somehow convinces this Albert Nuquay to act on his behalf. Why? How?" Rachel was asking some tough, logical questions. The problem was that nothing about Jack was "logical."

"He did it before," George responded, projecting images and case histories for Keller and Donald Lucas on the living room wall.

"Albert Nuquay died at the cemetery. When did Jack make the switch?" Grace cut to the heart of the matter.

"It was Jack at the cabin. And again at the warehouse. I'm sure of that," Sam pronounced. "He wouldn't trust someone else with Chloe. It must have been at the cemetery."

"Damn… he was planning this from the beginning," Malone submitted.

"Why?" Rachel asked. "We have to understand why."

"I kept asking him that question, at the cabin. He would just smile and say 'that's a question for another day.' He said that I had to learn, that I could be like him if I only let myself go." Sam mused. If she could just keep her mind steady, she could treat this like just another case. Then, perhaps, she could help them find Chloe.

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

The phone rang, startling them all. George jumped to his computer and punched in the code to initiate a trace on the caller.

"I'm rather surprised… you're all just sitting around like this. The great and mighty VCTF … and Sam… don't you want to see your daughter alive again?"

"If you harm her, if you so much as touch her, there won't be a place on earth where you can hide from me…" Malone shouted with force.

"Well, if it isn't the proud new father…May I remind you that there are many, many places that I hide and where you will never find me." Score one for Jack. They hadn't caught him yet. They didn't even know who he was.

"Jack… please…" Sam began.

"Yes, Samantha…?" the tone was mocking.

"I want to speak to Chloe…" she managed.

"Beg me." Jack laughed. "Maybe I'll relent. I'm not a bad sort really. Come on, Samantha, beg me to speak with her."

Malone's knuckles whitened where his hands maintained a death grip on the arms of his chair. He had to remain calm. They had to verify that Chloe was still alive. After the note… C-H-L-O-E…

Sam took a deep breath to steady herself. "I beg of you…" she stated firmly. "Please let me speak to Chloe."

"Well, now, Sam… since you asked me so nicely… Let's see…"

George was signaling wildly to keep Jack talking. He was trying desperately to get a fix on Jack's location.

"After much deliberation… 'No.' You can't speak to your daughter. But here's a little 'parting gift' to keep your computer geek occupied… See you soon Samantha…" A video/sound clip downloaded itself to George's laptop. Chloe's conversation with Jack earlier in the afternoon in full living color.

Sam's breath caught in her throat. Chloe was alive. Sam closed her eyes.

Cold. Damp. Dark. Stone. Drops of water flowing. Tears? A river?

"Anything?" Malone asked George.

George appeared stunned. "Yeah…I don't understand it. It wasn't scrambled or sub-routed to Paris, France. He's somewhere in Scott county. I was within seconds of establishing his exact location."

Sam unfolded the map, searching, searching. "She's underground somewhere. It's a cell. There's water leaking…" She had to keep control. Her insight had returned. She needed to concentrate. They could beat him.

John stood next to her plotting the circumference of the circle that George had extrapolated from his program. "We're getting closer, Sam…" he squeezed her shoulder. The search parameters had just narrowed in their favor. Only portions of the area were located near water.

Rachel was reviewing the video clip with Malone. "From what I've read… Jack's always been hands-off where Chloe is concerned, almost as though he knows what line not to cross… do you know what I mean?"

Malone nodded. "He sent her back to bed after he killed Tom Waters. He let her go at the cemetery. Didn't harm her…"

"Bailey, I'm sorry. There's something different here. Watch the tape. He's so cold towards her. Calls her a cry-baby. It's almost as though she doesn't count any more."

Sam had come up behind them silently. "That's because she's now become a means to an end…"

Malone had a sudden thought. "He knew… About Chloe. That's why he took her. He knew. He's watching us now. Sam, did you tell anyone else that Chloe was my daughter?"

"Of course not," Sam responded.

"John, I want this entire ranch swept. Bugs, listening devices, cameras, all of it. That's how he knew. We're going to poke out his eyes and ears. Even the odds."

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

Sam's new home had been wired to gills, a veritable virtual playhouse for Jack. Video, audio, motion detection… even the dog had been bugged. Jack had heard every word, witnessed every tear shed and hug shared between Sam and Chloe. How dare he violate her life again? Slithering in the undergrowth like a poisonous snake, he had struck at her very heart: her daughter.

"Because of me…" Malone concluded silently. Rather than crack in front of his team, he strode out of the room and onto the porch. Night had fallen and Chloe was still in Jack's hands. Because she was his daughter, because of what had happened all those years ago, all bets were off. Helplessness flooded through him. He thwacked the porch railing in rage. Stared at the horizon. He needed to be out there, doing something, not chained to this house.

Malone heard soft footsteps behind him, but didn't turn. The tears had come unbidden, and he didn't have the strength to quell them. It was his fault. His actions long ago had led them to this moment. Sam respected his silence and sat down on the porch bench, setting down two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

"I think that we could both use this…" she poured two glassfuls.

Malone regained control of his emotions. She needed him. Chloe needed him. He sat down next to her and took the glass she offered him.

"I'm sorry…" he looked into her eyes. They were dry and determined.

"For what? You're always here when I need you…" Sam curled her legs up under her.

"For earlier. What I said when you told me about Chloe. Better than anyone, I know how hard you've strived to raise her, protect her. You didn't have any choice." Malone rubbed his temples.

"There are lots of things I would do differently, if I had the chance." Sam responded taking his hand in hers.

Malone left his hand where it was. "We'll find her," he murmured both to her and to himself, squaring his jaw.

"I know. It's a game to him now, maybe it always was. He'll wait until we find her, until all the pieces are in place.

"What's with 'Jake Kandal'?" Malone asked gently.

"He's just a friend," Sam commented. "When Chloe and I first moved down here, he was nice to us. He's a cabinetmaker… he helped us remodel the kitchen."

"You know that he wants more than that…" Malone smiled.

"But I don't…" Sam replied. She looked down at her hands:

Everyone in the city of Calumet liked Jake Kandal. He had come highly recommended: a true artist when it came to renovation and wood-work. No one would dare to call him a "carpenter."

He had come to "Soulful Pines" armed with his grandfather's tools and chords and chords of sleek, quality wood. And a killer smile.

Sam had made friends. The abrupt end to her career and self-imposed exile had left her thirsty for adult conversation. She had begun to take pictures again. He enjoyed art and thought he could put her in contact with a friend who ran a photography studio in Lexington.

She had invited him to dinner to thank him for his help. Chloe had opted out, claiming that that Kandal was "strange." Sam had thought it was a twinge of jealousy: she had quickly become accustomed to having her mother "all to herself."

Jake had arrived with a bouquet of white roses. He had said all the right things, complimented her on the meal, made her laugh. But, she felt numb, impervious. He wasn't the one she saw across the table in her mind's eye....

"Hey…" Jake had noticed her far away gaze as they sat on the porch sipping coffee. "Where are you, Samantha?"

Sam jerked involuntarily, spilling her coffee. "Don't call me that! It's Sam…" The night air made her shiver.

Jake leaned forward towards her, but his next words were cut off by Chloe's arrival. Her daughter rolled her eyes and said rather forcefully "It's a 'school night,' Mom."

Jake had left. Sam had been relieved.

Sam fixed Malone with her deep blue eyes. "Chloe doesn't like Jake very much…"

Malone shifted in his seat uncomfortably and took out a large manila envelope. "I brought these… just in case…"

Sam read and laid aside the letter hiring her as a "temporary consultant" to the VCTF, fingering the gun and VCTF shield she now held in her hand. She remembered handing them to Malone on her last day in Atlanta, convinced that that part of her life was over for good. And now, if Jack were standing within her sights, she wouldn't hesitate take his life, permission granted by the FBI.

CHAPTER VII

Malone pulled John and George aside. "I need you to run a name through your system…" he requested. "Jake Kandal."

"C'mon, Bailey. This is 'Jack' we're talking about," John offered. "It can't be that simple. We have a boat-load of leads to follow up, and you want us to check this guy out just because he's dating Sam and you don't like him?"

"His name is 'Jake' – I've never believed in coincidences. And, I don't like him. Chloe didn't like him. Clearly, Denzel doesn't like him."

"Right, Bail," George laughed. "I'm gonna check him out because 'the dog doesn't like him.'" But George headed off to his computer to follow orders, as John strode over to the telephone to make a few calls.

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

It was five am. Malone had finally convinced Sam to try to get some sleep. Grace and Rachel were sharing the guest room. Malone had dosed off on the couch.

"Bailey… Bail…?" George was shaking him.

"What's wrong…. I'm up…"

"Bailey, you have to come see this," John handed him a cup of coffee as they gathered around George's laptop.

"I took the names of the three clones and played around with them. Guess what comes up?" George moved the names Austin Keller, Albert Nuquay, and Donald Lucas around and around, removing all but the first letters of each name:

A K A N D L

He then pulled up the possible word variations formed from these letters. There was only one:

KANDAL

"And 'Jake Kandal' doesn't exist. No Social Security number, no birth certificate or driver's license. Nothing. Nada!" John added excitedly.

"This is too easy…" Malone commented. "It could just be Jack framing some poor sucker to take the wrap so that he can watch us chase our tails and get a good laugh."

"Or, it's all part of his game. He wants us to come to him," John surmised.

"Wake up the judge in this burg and get a search warrant for Kandal's house and land," Malone gestured towards George.

George nodded, but Malone had already left the room.

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

"Where do you think you're doing?" John strode after Bailey, grabbing his jacket as the door closed behind them.

"I'm going to pay Mr. Kandal a little courtesy call. Care to come along?"

"Bailey. Wait. We have no warrant. We can't just go breaking down the man's door."

"The warrant is going to take time. We may not have much time. I'm not ordering you to come with me."

"If this weren't Chloe…" John began, trying to reason with Malone.

"But it is." Malone finished, cutting off all further discussion.

The two men stepped into the car in concert and headed off into the darkness.

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

"Well, now… Isn't this interesting!" Jack commented, peering into the bank of video monitors in front of him. "Maybe I underestimated you, Malone. You're actually a few minutes ahead of schedule…Nothing like following a trail of breadcrumbs, eh"

Jack looked through his microscope and put the finishing touches to the glass lens lying on the platform. He pulled away, stretching. "Time to squash a few bugs."

"Now what?" John was rushing to keep up with Malone. They had parked the car a distance down the road from Kandal's ranch and were now advancing on foot towards his dwelling. He noticed the sound of running water in the distance. A river or falls. Sam was always right.

"I thought I might walk up to man's door and knock," Malone deadpanned.

Kandal's house lay before them, silent and dark. John would have given anything to be back in Atlanta. Raised in the heart of Boston, the hooting of owls and chirping of crickets tended to make him apprehensive.

Malone signaled for him to go around to the back door and both men drew their weapons.

A sudden blast roared through the house, ejecting its roof and knocking both men of their feet. Just before he passed out, John realized that the house was in flames. A voice said "Sleep well, Agent Grant…" and the world went dark.

CHAPTER VIII

Rachel descended the stairs groggily and headed mechanically for the coffee pot. She had slept badly, there was so much tension in this house, so many secrets and thoughts swirling in the air. Add to that the fact that Grace snored, and she really wasn't in the best of moods.

She headed towards the sound of George's voice.

The search warrant for Kandal's house had been hand-delivered to the house by the local police. George briefed Rachel on the evidence mounting up against Kandal.

"It all seems so…" Rachel began.

"Elementary? Yeah, that's what Bailey said when I woke him up an hour ago." George murmured.

"Where's Bailey?" Sam had silently made her way into the room as they chatted. Her dreams had been plagued with images and colors. A blond-headed little girl in a room with all four walls closing in on her. A headless horseman pursuing her through cobble-stoned streets, sword drawn. She had tossed and turned to no avail, and had finally dressed. And gone in search of Malone.

He wasn't in the house. His car was gone. So was John. They all knew where he had gone and why.

The phone rang, interrupting their thoughts. An explosion had been signaled by an unknown witness at the Kandal house. Firefighters and medical services were on their way to the site now. The police wanted to know if the VCTF would care to join them at the site of their suspect's home.

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

Sam had been silent on the ride over, lost in her own thoughts. She was pale, her eyes had a haunted expression that George hadn't seen since that day when a madman had taken her friend Angel hostage. He knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking the same thing: how could he not have known what Bailey would do next? Malone was like a father to him, had gone to bat for him many times, most notably when a prescription drug habit had turned his life upside down. And George had let him walk straight into a trap.

"Sam…" he whispered. "I'm sorry, I should have…"

"Wild horses couldn't have stopped him," Sam responded woodenly. She slipped the VCTF shield out of her pocket and pinned it to the outer pocket of her jacket. Jack had struck. They would know soon enough the extent of the damage. Until then, she needed to marshal her strength and focus on the task at hand. Jack was sending messages pointing to Jake Kandal. But Jack had already misled them with surrogates in the past. Was he crying "wolf" again?

The early morning sky was lit up with a wild orange glow that the VCTF spotted a mile before they arrived at the site. But the utter destruction caused by the conflagration was still a surprise.

No one could have survived this fire, Rachel concluded as she approached the police captain in charge and attempted to come up to speed quickly on the situation.

Grace spotted Malone's rental car and the medical service workers carrying a stretcher towards the waiting ambulance. Sam stood still, surveying the smoking wreckage and listening to the hissing of the beams soaked by the firefighter's hoses. She had felt Grace tap her shoulder and point in the direction of the ambulance. But, she just couldn't move, couldn't take that first step. There was only one stretcher.

George grasped Sam by the arm and forced her forward.

"Look, I'm fine.. take your hands off me, ok…" John was groggy but was protesting strongly against being transported to the hospital.

"How is he?" Grace questioned the emergency technician.

"Someone apparently injected him with something to knock him out. We found him unconscious in the car over there, but he was clearly hurt in the explosion. He has a nasty bump on his head, a broken left wrist. Otherwise, he's in pretty good shape."

"Bailey?" Sam forced out through trembling lips.

"I went around to the back. He took the front…." John started.

"We didn't find anyone else here, Ma'am. No human remains in the fire. No bodies. Nothing." one of the police lieutenants contributed.

He had them both. Sam realized that she had known it would ultimately come to this. He had them both. The daughter she loved. The man she loved.

The air was smoke-laden and she struggled to breathe.

Ball of fire…smoke…walls closing in….

She felt as though she were suffocating.

Sam crumpled into a heap.

While Grace and the medical team revived Sam and made her drink a glass of water, Rachel and George carefully approached the white 4X4. Jack had taken the time to carry John's unconscious form to the car, to telephone the police about the explosion. He wanted them to come, wanted them to find what he had left for them. The game was on again.

It was right there, dangling from the rear-view mirror in plain sight: Bailey's marine signet ring.

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

Rachel plucked the ring from the mirror and gingerly carried it back to Sam in her palm. The early morning sunlight struck its blue stone, and she stopped in her tracks. Flashes of messages appeared to her:

"Miss you Sam..." "Welcome back, Samantha"…

Sam took the ring in silence, carefully placing it on her thumb. The eagle and the motto "Semper Fidelis": Always Faithful. Jack had Bailey. Bailey would never have taken his ring off voluntarily. Sam was afraid to face what that might mean.

"I saw words, messages to you from Jack…A blue light…" Rachel mentioned.

Sam understood what she meant. "With Jack, the medium is always part of the message…

As she watched Sam touch Bailey's ring, Grace's eyes narrowed. There was something wrong with the stone. Grace removed a scalpel from her medical bag and pried up the edge of the glass lens that protruded ever so slightly above the mounting.

George brought over the infra-red light and passed it over the lens. "There are letters here…"

Big surprise. He took out his hand-scanner and acquired an image, which was stored on his laptop. A little magnification yield the following:

"Plowshares and swords.. those who appeal to it shall perish by it."

"George?" Rachel queried.

"I'm on it… I'm on it…" George responded, dialing into the INTERNET. Thank God for wireless technology.

CHAPTER IX

Malone carefully opened his eyes without moving a muscle. His head hurt, but he would live. He remembered the blast at the Kendal house and then a voice, "Lights out, Malone." A pin-prick in the back of his neck, and then darkness.

Jack.

He had been had, like the greenest of rookies. Had been so distracted by his own internal dialogue that he hadn't seen the forest for the trees.

Malone sat up suddenly and looked around him. Four stone walls, a bare cot bolted to the wall. A video camera, a speaker.

"Malone, Malone, Malone… when will you ever learn? Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread."

His ring was gone. His watch read 07:00 am. Where the hell was he?

"Jack," Malone nodded, as though greeting an old acquaintance. He continued to scope out the room. Searching, searching…

"Well, give the man a cigar! Right on the first try! Could it be that our time apart has proven beneficial to your powers of deduction?" he taunted Malone.

"I never forget a voice," Malone riposted. "Come out from that bank of video monitors you're hiding behind, and I'll provide you with a new face…free of charge."

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap…. "Force hath no place where there is need of skill," Jack quoted ironically. Malone spotted the ventilation system in the ceiling and mentally calculated…

"There's no way out, Malone. Even Chloe isn't small enough to fit through the pipe. You see, I've thought of everything this time. Practice does indeed make perfect."

"Where is Chloe?" Malone asked wearily. He had tired of this game years ago.

"Ah, at last we get down to it…"

"If you've hurt her…"

"You're beginning to sound like a broken record, Malone. But just to show you that I'm not completely heartless… 'Heeeerrrrreeeee's Chhhhlooooooeeeeee…'"

There was a clanking sound as the wall to his left shifted vertically on its axis. Chloe stepped through the opening uncertainly, and the wall closed firmly behind her.

"Bailey!" Chloe scurried across the room and threw herself into his arms.

He could only imagine the nightmare that she had been through. Alone, frightened, with only Jack for company. He gently kissed the top of her head. A sensation of protectiveness overwhelmed him. His daughter. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. Well, anything else, he corrected himself.

As though embarrassed about the effusiveness of her greeting, Chloe slowly moved away from Malone and sat on the cot. Tears stained her cheeks.

He sat down next to her and looked her over. Physically, she seemed fine. A few dirt smudges, but overall intact and in one piece.

"Are you ok?" he questioned, for want of a better question.

"Yes," she answered quietly, meekly.

And then, surprisingly… "I dreamed that you found me…You were on a big white horse like Champion." He remembered Champion. Years earlier, when he had gone to see Sam to persuade her to join the VCTF… Chloe had been afraid of horses. He had put her in front of him on the saddle and had helped her to surmount her terror. If only he could do that for her now.

Chloe laughed, a sound so out of place that he gazed at her with concern. "But unless you've left you him outside," the young girl added, "I think we have a problem."

Like father, like daughter. Humor was the last stronghold: the defensive line against surrender.

"There are other ways, Chloe…" he took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Jack's voice boomed over the loudspeaker…"I hate to interrupt this touching family reunion… but there really is no way out, Malone. It would be better not to lie to the child. She's already had far too much of that in her life, n'est ce pas? Your time is short. Make the most of it."

Malone turned again to Chloe, who had instinctively shrunk back against the wall when Jack began to speak. "Don't pay any attention to him. He's just trying to scare you."

And, it was working. The sound of Jack's voice sent pinpricks of dread up and down his spine. He wasn't afraid for himself; he had lived a long life, accomplishing most of what he had set out to do, at least professionally. But he wanted his daughter to survive. They only had a short time? Before what? Malone examined the options. Sam. Jack was going to use them as a tool in his game to introduce Sam to the "dark side."

"There…" Chloe announced. "There's always a cracking sound when Jack tunes in and out…." Apparently, he had turned to other more interesting pursuits.

"That's it!" he encouraged. "Think of it as a chess game. You have to stay one step ahead. Retain the information available. Always keep your eye on the goal."

They were safe for the moment. At least until Sam's arrival. With a little luck, the VCTF would find a way to outmaneuver Jack. He had trained them well. He just had to be ready. But there were things he didn't understand, couldn't catalogue. The bizarre metallic bracelets that Jack had affixed to his prisoners' wrists… A tracking device? Something more?

He stood up and walked over to the wall on his left. Deftly he tested the stones for a spring or a lever, something that would trigger the opening and closing mechanism.

"Bailey?" Chloe spoke hesitantly, interrupting his thoughts. She recognized that glazed-over look… had seen it her mother's eyes countless times. He was here in body, but his mind was dancing a mental cha-cha with Jack's.

"Yes, Chloe?" Malone responded tenderly, turning from the wall with a sigh and sitting on the cot next to her.

"Just tell me it's going to be ok…" Like mother, like daughter.

Malone took the little girl in his arms. "I promise…" he whispered, willing it to be true.

CHAPTER X

The VCTF, minus its SAC, sat around Sam's dining room table as George finished a few keystrokes.

"The second part of this quotation… the 'swords… those who appeal to it' section. It comes from a quotation from Samuel Butler:

"Logic is like the sword – those who appeal to it shall perish by it."

"A reference to the Marine sword? To Bailey?" Rachel queried. They were all thinking it – she was just the one to say it.

Sam was pensive.

A flash of a scene when Sam had first returned to the VCTF. A train tunnel. Jack in the shadows : " Your wisdom is getting you nowhere. Rely on mine, and I will teach you humility."

She had asked Jack why he had chosen her, and he had chosen to speak in scriptures… She had to throw logic and wisdom out the window. Rely on the clues he was leaving behind, no matter how obvious they appeared. He was testing pieces of the puzzle again. Bailey. Chloe. He wouldn't harm them until the game was finally over.

"The 'plowshares and swords section' is really simple, at least for me," George made reference to his Judaism. He typed a bit. "Here…:

"You must beat your plowshares into swords and your pruning hooks into spears (Joel 3:10)"

"Plowshares into swords?" Sam queried. "Can you explain that to me?"

George pulled up the following explanation, which they all read in silence:

"Beat your plowshares into swords and your pruning hooks into spears (Joel 3:10). In this third chapter of Joel, we hear the prophet describe a time yet to come. It will be a time of great harvest on the earth, and this verse describes the catalyst. A plowshare is an agricultural instrument used to till the soil. At this point in history, it was a tool that speaks of one's vocation. The prophet speaks of a time yet to come when the plowshare will be turned into a sword. The only way that this can occur is for it to go through extreme heat and then the blacksmith must beat that plowshare into shape. Heat and punishment of the metal turns that plowshare into an instrument of battle. God must do this in each of our lives to be useable as a worthy sword."

The mood in the room was grim. They finally thought they understood.

"Pruning hooks? Jack is a mad gardener and Sam is the vine?" John interjected, to lighten the humor of the room. Grace shot him a cutting glance.

George inputted his search data furiously. An arrow popped up in the search area defined the night before: "310 Spears Road."

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

Malone paced back and forth nervously. What was taking so long?

He had to calm down. It wasn't just his life at stake here, but also Chloe's He observed her out of the corner of his eye. She sat on the cot swinging her feet back and forth, a determined look in her eyes.

His daughter was beautiful. He regretted the time that had passed them by. Years when he could have been in her life, teaching, helping, listening… All he wanted now was another chance.

"Chloe…" He didn't know how to broach the subject, or even if he should. But time was now a precious commodity.

Chloe looked up at him hopefully. If only he could live up to her faith in him, magically extract them from this situation…

"I want you to know… that if I had known…. I would have been there for you. Nothing would have stopped me…" Malone fumbled for the words to let her know how much he cared.

"But you were there, Bailey…" Chloe answered simply. "Every birthday, every Christmas… During the custody suit, when Mom didn't want me to have a dog…"

She reminded him so much of her mother at that moment. A serious expression on her face, a half-smile.

("Sam… Where are you, Sam?")

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

"All we're doing is dancing to Jack's tune, here," John protested as they turned right out of Sam's driveway. "Let's think about this a little."

"Don't you see… It doesn't matter how much thought we put into this. How much we plan… He's leading me back to the same place. Over and over again. Until I 'learn' whatever it is he wants to teach me," Sam maintained.

"That doesn't mean that we should go rushing in there," Rachel offered. "He's leaving obvious clues. It's a trap."

"The only edge we have is 'time'…" Sam responded. "Every time we've come face to face, it's been the same. A rehearsal for some great masterpiece to which only Jack knows the ending. It makes a strange sort of sense now: I wouldn't shoot Keller; he diluted my eyes, and I mistakenly killed an innocent woman; he set the stage in the woman's prison and I shot Sharon; he took Chloe to the cemetery, and I killed 'him.'"

"And now?" Grace asked.

"He's leaving clues a child could follow. It's been two days and he's seemingly pushing us, rushing us towards the conclusion. He doesn't seem to have the patience to wait." Rachel concluded.

"He's tired of rehearsing…" Sam murmured.

CHAPTER XI

310 Spears Road. The end of the road, literally. How poetic.

Grace and George waited in the car, ready to send in back-up at the slightest signal. George was feverishly trying to determine who really owned this house, but had thus far only waded through a few layers of offshore trusts and subsidiaries. John and Rachel accompanied Sam, guns drawn, towards the house.

The door was unlocked. She wasn't surprised.

The house that Jack "built."

The three agents stepped gingerly into the building, John and Rachel swinging their guns in an arc to the right and left, as though fearing that Jack might be there to greet them himself

Sam's heart was beating so fast, she thought it might implode. A certainty took hold of her soul: this is where it all would end.

A flash, her first meeting with Jack:

Jack: "Now fall on your knees"

Sam: "I will not get on my knees for you. I will never get on

my knees for you."

Jack: "I am the way, I am the truth, I am the life."

Kneeling, pews, an altar…

A chapel?

"Sam, are you alright?" John was speaking to her.

"A flash… an attic… a roof." She was the one who had to end this. She couldn't risk losing anyone else who was dear to her. John and Rachel moved off in search of the attic or roof, as she trailed behind.

John grasped the handle of the door and swung it to the side as Rachel swiftly mounted the stairs into the attic. John followed. Sam softly closed the door behind them, and turned the key in the lock. This was her fight. She slowly turned around, removed her communications ear-piece, and drew her gun.

As Sam advanced carefully into the left wing of the house, she saw it off to the side. A stained glass window depicting two crossed sabers on a field of green.

Jack's chapel.

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

The silence was broken again. A small compartment in the wall to Malone's left opened noisily. Two sets of handcuffs lay in the recess it revealed.

"It's Showtime!" Jack called out harshly. "Put them on. Put them on you and the brat."

Malone slowly stood up from the cot. A boxer ready to step out into the ring. What good would it do to protest? The action was out there somewhere, and so was Sam.

Chloe hesitated a moment. She looked up at Malone. Fear furrowed her brow. What if this were the last few moments of her life? She made a decision. "I love you, Bailey," she offered it like a gift.

"I love you, too, sweetie…" Malone responded strongly as he clasped the handcuffs around her wrists.

"YOUR hands BEHIND your back, Malone. Don't want you getting any bright ides…" Jack menaced.

Malone did as he was told.

The wall opposite the cot slowly opened, like a door to the outside.

"Move, through….NOW, Malone. Don't push me." Jack's voice crackled with barely-contained electricity. The final showdown.

Chloe passed her hand over her hair, pushing it out of her face. She thrust her hairpin into Malone's hands as they stepped forward into the tunnel.

"One step ahead, Bailey…" she whispered.

CHAPTER XII

"Welcome to my house, Samantha," Jack called out from the front of the church.

Not Nuquay, not Kandal, but a different face altogether. Still unknown to her.

"I knew you would eventually find your way back to me."

First meeting, Jack: "Samantha, Finally. Samantha… Talk to me. Come on… Talk to me… This is OUR time"

"I haven't come for you. I want my life back," Sam called out firmly, descending the aisle towards the altar. Garlands of red roses were strung from the walls and covered the backs of the pews, giving off a overwhelming odor that was sickly sweet.

"I've waited so long, Samantha, for you to understand… for you to remember…" Jack was in ecstasy. After all this time, she had come, just as he knew she would. She couldn't stay away. She wanted to learn. Tonight would be her final lesson.

Sam: "Why me?"

Jack: "Because I know thy work, thy labor, thy patience.

And I know thou canst not bear those who do evil."

"I want Chloe and Malone. I won't do anything until I see them, do you understand me?" Sam bargained. She had one chance here.

"They're merely tools, Samantha. Props. Unworthy of your attention. But I'll indulge you."

The altar swung around. Chains. A man, a little girl. Her life.

"Bailey!" she called out. "Are you ok?"

"Chloe and I are fine. Do what you have to do." His voice was strong. His eyes were steady. He had Chloe close behind him as though to protect her from Jack with his body if necessary.

"Now, just in case the student has surpassed the master, let me let you in on a secret," Jack beamed. "This little remote device controls the two miniature bombs that I've attached to the bracelets worn by Prop1 and Prop2. These two small buttons, left and right, control exactly who goes 'boom' and when."

Sam's eyes took in the remote control… Jack's self-satisfied smile. He had brought her to this point over and over again. Wanted to show her how alike they were. She hadn't been able to save the others. But not Chloe… not Malone, not while an ounce of breath remained in her body.

"Is this clear enough for you, Samantha? Any false move from you or your VCTF pals…. Say a gunshot to take me out?… And my finger lands on one of the buttons."

Malone stared at Sam's VCTF shield, dangling from her jacket. Why was she here alone? How many times had he lectured her about back-up. They needed the rest of the team, now. Before Jack made good on in his threats.

"What is it you want me to do?" Sam's eyes scanned the church, searching for a way out, a way to beat him at his own game. ("Think, Sam… Think!!!")

"You decide, Sam. You have the power of life and death. Someone will die tonight. Will it be Chloe or Malone? You decide." Jack's finger hovered over each button in turn.

"I'll never do that, Jack." Sam moved still closer to the front of the church, both attracted and repulsed by the scene that lay in front of her.

"Ah, but you will. You see, we're alike, you and I. We both kill. You'll kill for me, just as I have killed for you."

"I'm not like you, Jack. You choose to kill. I only kill when I have no choice."

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

And on the roof, no Jack. And, no Sam.

"How could you let her lock us in like that?" Rachel was in a fury. They had lost Sam. Bailey would be furious.

"Me? You're the one who let her come into the building with us!"

Rachel gave him a look that spoke volumes. Now absolutely wasn't the time…

"George…" John called into his walkie-talkie. "You have to locate Sam. She's gone after Jack on her own. I can't reach her on the communications network."

Rachel took a running start at the top of the stairs and splintered the locked door with the force of her body weight. The two agents took off at a run to try to find Sam.

George activated the listening device located in Sam's agency shield. Malone had been right: where Jack was concerned, Sam would rush in blindly. Her actions with Donald Lucas had been eye-opening. She felt responsible for Jack's murderous actions; she would try to take him out herself, alone. He had had George fit the shield with a microscopic, high-power bug. Malone knew her so well, and hadn't wanted this to be her Waterloo.

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

"But the choice is yours, my dear… The right button or the left button. The daughter or the lover. Tick Tock, Sam. Time to decide. Who stays, who goes. Your omnipotence takes wing tonight."

Jack: "You must understand that it's a gift I've given you."

Sam: "You gave me a reason to kill."

Jack: "A reason to kill. There's an excellent concept."

"I'm not like you, Jack. I laugh, I love, I hope. You only exist in isolation." Sam began.

"Why do you protest so much? Could it be that we are more alike than you imagined? Absolutely nothing and no one will ever separate us again." Jack soliloquized.

Sam to Bailey: "He has all the power. He takes those most important to me, 'disposes' of them. Tom, Coop… I never had a chance to say 'goodbye.'"

"I want to say 'good-bye,' you at least owe me that. You've brought us all here."

"Make it fast. Time's a wasting, Samantha." Jack smiled and his lip curled back.

Sam came forward and stood before Chloe and Malone.

"Mommy, I'm scared…" Chloe threw herself into her mother's arms.

"Everything is going to be fine," Sam managed to utter, unconvinced.

Jack: "You and I, Samantha… we're the same….You can kill."

Kill a stranger. Kill an enemy. Kill someone you love.

She turned to Malone. How could she have let it go this far? A tear rolled down her cheek.

It wasn't going to end this way. Not while he was still alive. They had a chance. "This is what we're going to do…" Malone began. "My handcuffs are loose. I want you to move away and distract him. I only need a few seconds to be on him. Then you take Chloe and get the hell out of here. Out of this room, out of this building…"

"He's not going to let any of us walk out of here alive." Sam answered. "I have to find a way to win this game."

Sam: "…How do you solve a puzzle? Try one piece, try another piece…"Bailey: "You're the only puzzle he can't resolve."

"You're not listening to me." Sam put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him to her. "I need ten seconds with him…"

"I won't let you die for me. He's destroyed too many of the people I've loved." And Sam stepped away, her gaze tightly entwined with his own.

"Samantha. Time's up. Step away from them and come to me."

"You've always talked a good game, Jack," Malone decided that three could play this game. "But in the end, you're just a coward. You're not God, you're not even a man. You claim to be all powerful, yet you hold us here not through your own force but with a remote controlled bomb and handcuffs."

"But, I'm the one with the remote control. I'm the one who has Samantha."

CHAPTER XIII

"It's, Bailey. He's telling us what to do," George commented. He had rejoined John and Rachel in the house and they stood outside the locked chapel door.

A bomb. A remote control. Handcuffs. Jack in control, with Malone, Sam, and Chloe at his mercy.

What next?

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

Sam surveyed the situation. She had to solve the puzzle now.

Sam: "… I'll leave again."

Jack: "You'll never leave. Don't you remember? You left

your first love to be with me."

Sam: "You will never have me"

"If I choose, do you promise to abide by my choice? Release the innocent?" Sam asked.

"I promise. Fly beyond the chains and rules of this life, Sam. Soar with me." Jack commanded.

A smile filled his face. Samantha had finally understood, was ready to graduate to the next level. They would be together in every sense of the word at last.

Jack: "I would waste away without you, Samantha."

There was only one way out.

"Time to say 'farewell' Malone. I wish I could say it was good to know you, but at least you were always a very good loser." Jack laughed, as he played with the remote control, lowering his finger to within a millimeter of the button, only to lift it back to its original position. A cat playing with a mouse.

"Wrong, Jack. Bailey has always been there for me, keeping me from harm, protecting me from you." Sam was moving away from the Jack. Malone watched and waited for his opportunity. All he needed was an instant of inattention. For Jack's eyes to look away…

"No, it can't be? You would choose him over your own daughter. My, my Samantha. You have changed."

"Wrong again, Jack. My daughter is the light of my life."

Jack became agitated. "Stop delaying the inevitable, Sam. I'm tired of waiting."

Donald Lucas: "The game is meaningless without a purpose"

Then I choose this…" Sam took her gun and stuck the barrel to her head. There are all sorts of forms of power, Jack. If I have the power over life and death, I choose 'me.'"

Jack appeared destabilized. For half a moment. Then he laughed.

"Then, I've taught you well indeed," he laughed. "But who will look after Chloe when you and I have ascended to heaven?"

"She has her father… I know that he'll always be there fore her. I thank you for bringing them together again." Her knuckles tightened around the gun, and she closed her eyes.

"Sam… don't do this," Malone called out. "Please…there has to be another way."

"Mommy…please!" Chloe's voice cut through her heart.

Jack's gaze whipped back and forth between Malone and Sam.

"Let them go, Jack." Sam called out, as she opened her eyes and fixed a cold stare on Jack.

"But the game isn't over yet, Samantha." Jack's laugh was chilling.

"I want you to release my daughter and Malone. They have nothing to do with the game. And you promised. You've never let me down before…" Sam stated bitterly, her hold on the gun never wavering.

"Put the gun down, Sam. This isn't how the story ends." Jack concluded.

Sam laughed eerily. "There is no room in my life for you. You think that you're in the control, but you're nothing without me. You don't exist…" Sam stated bitterly.

Rage and confusion filled Jack's face. His hand grasped the remote control almost convulsively. Then, just as suddenly, his body visibly relaxed.

"I know you Sam. You won't do it. You love life far too much to throw it away needlessly. It's a trick."

Sam: "…He doesn't feel his life. He only feels the pain that he inflicts on his victims. But…I don't feel my life either. I feel the victims' lives more than I feel my own…I think he knows this. I think he thinks that we're the same."

"Trick or treat, Jack," Sam pointed the gun at her left thigh, turned her face away, and shot.

Chloe screamed, as Sam staggered back from the impact and gingerly lowered herself onto a pew.

"Get in there, get in there now!" George shouted at Rachel and John. "Everything is going to hell!"

Malone restrained himself from rushing to her side, as he saw the blood stain the material of her jeans, the shock and pain in her eyes. ("C'mon Jack, put the remote down. C'mon…")

"Still not convinced, Jack?" Sam grimaced as she spoke.

"Give me the gun, Samantha. Don't you see that in hurting yourself, you hurt those who love you?"

Jack: "Forgetting thyself will set you free to remember …"

"Remember your promise, to accept my choice. Let them go, Jack. Let them go, or I'll destroy 'Samantha.'"

Then, it happened.

In a split second, the door burst open, thrusting John and Rachel into the scene. Jack swung around towards the noise, taking his hand off the remote control. Malone shoved Chloe towards her mother and rushed Jack, knocking him back against the altar.

The two men struggled as John tried to understand the situation and get a clear shot at Jack. Rachel ran to Sam, attempting to gauge her condition quickly. "Get Chloe out of here, there's a bomb…" Sam begged Rachel, who was too shocked not to comply.

Sam muscled herself to her feet and moved towards the struggling men.

She watched the scene unfold as though in slow motion. Saw Jack brutally throw Malone into the hard rock of the chapel wall and lunge back towards the altar. John's arm swung towards Jack.

"The remote…get the remote" she screamed.

Three pairs of eyes turned towards the control lying on the altar.

John blasted it out of existence, as Sam screamed.

Jack smiled and swung his arm up, his fingers tightened around the trigger of his gun, with Malone in his sights.

Jack's head exploded, blood and sinew spattering the altar.

Jack: "Feels good, doesn't it?"

An instant too late. Malone was down.

Sam dropped her gun and stumbled up the three stairs to collapse at the foot of the altar on her knees.

CHAPTER XIV

Blood, there was blood everywhere… That was Grace's first thought as she rushed into the chapel with her medical bag. Whose blood?

Jack, or what was left of Jack, lay behind the altar, his arms spread out at his side as though a sacrifice on a cross. Sam, her clothes covered with blood, sat at the foot of the altar, cradling Malone in her arms, red staining the carpet beneath his body.

Grace was immediately at her side, bandaging Malone's wound, taking his blood pressure

Malone painfully opened his eyes. "Did we get him?"

Sam nodded quickly, tears streaming down his face. She caressed his face gently.

"Good shot!" he tried to smile, sit up, but winced with pain, and fell back into her arms.

"Grace?" Sam looked at her friend with tear-stained face, the unasked questions clear in her eyes.

"He's still breathing. The bullet went in just below his left lung. I don't know, let's get him out of here."

"Where's the damn ambulance!" Grace shouted.

There was activity all around her. John and the local police carrying Jack's body away. Rachel speaking in a corner with Chloe. It didn't matter. Her heart beat in time with the man whom she held in her arms. She breathed with him, painful breath after painful breath.

"Mom…" Chloe broke away from Rachel and threw herself into Sam's arms as the medical technicians rolled Bailey away. Sam hugged her daughter to her fiercely. "Shh…. Chloe. Everything is going to be fine."

"Is Dad… I mean will he be…?" Chloe's fear overcame her. She had tried so hard to be strong. Now, she just wanted to be back in her own bed far away from the horror she had witnessed today.

'Dad,' she had called him 'Dad' – Malone would love that, Sam choked back a sob.

"I'm not going to lie to you Chloe… I don't know, I just don't know."

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

The ambulance sped along, siren blaring. Sam held Chloe's right hand and Malone's left hand and prayed. ("If ever there was anything that I did on this earth that was right and good, please don't take him from us now. Chloe needs her Daddy. I need Malone.") Bailey was unconscious. The paramedics said that he had lost quite a bit of blood. They had hooked him up to an oxygen mask.

He had gone into shock. Sam continued to pray.

CHAPTER XV

She was back here again? There was something weirdly "déjà vu" about it. The hospital. The doctors. The prognosis. "The bullet missed the vital organs and exited very near the spine. We'll have to see whether or not the bone marrow was touched. The next twenty-four hours should tell the tale." Even the doctor looked familiar.

Why did they always end up here?

The ventilation unit that helped Malone to breathe was cold hard steel and all its parts functioned in concert to maintain an acceptable level of oxygenation. The IV dripping blood into his system seemed to function far too slowly to nourish the vital man that he had been… "That he is!" she corrected herself mentally.

The doctors had wanted to examine her, too. She had refused until Malone had been examined.

He had placed his life in jeopardy for hers. And, now, if she could, she would trade places with him in a second. She wanted to be there for him when he awoke.

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

Chloe came to her mother and broke through her reverie.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Chloe?"

"He loves you, too," the little girl responded. "He won't leave us. We just have to believe."

Her daughter, so young, had witnessed so much horror, seen and heard things she wouldn't wish on her worse enemy. Yet, here, in the aftermath of the storm, it was Chloe who had come to reassure her. How she longed to protect her daughter, scoop her up and leave this place, recapture some semblance of normalcy and recreate her childhood… Without Jack, without the pain of loss. But that would be running away. And there always came a time when one had to stand one's ground and face life head-on.

"Chloe, I won't lie to you. Bailey is very sick. The doctors don't know 'when' or even 'if' he'll wake up."

"I said a prayer to God," Chloe insisted. "I told him how much we needed Bailey. It's going to be fine, now."

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

The doctors patched her up. A clean shot. Enter one bullet, exit one bullet. Cleansing, stitches. Sam felt nothing.

She sat near his bed holding his hand, hour after hour.

Grace brought her a change of clothing and a toothbrush. "Please," Sam whispered silently. "let this be a dream. On a count of three, I'll open my eyes…" But it didn't work.

The doctor stopped by again the next morning. Sam had fallen asleep in the side chair, with her head on Malone's bed, his hand still in her own.

The prognosis remained the same. Stable. He looked as though he were sleeping. At peace even, except for all the medical material. She thought back over the last few years. How he had come into her life. God couldn't be so cruel…. to wrench them apart when they had never had the chance really be together.

They had come through so much.

"Damn it, God. C'mon…" Sam promised. " I'll do anything. I know you're not supposed to 'make deals' with humans. But, I promise. Let him live, and I'll do anything. Be anything that you want me to be."

Let Chloe have a chance to know him. Let me have a chance to make-up for the hurt that I've caused him.

And she began to talk to him. Convinced that he could hear her. Somewhere deep in his coma, their fire was still burning, maybe just as an ember, but it would be enough to bring him back to her.

And she began to sob…. She thought she would never stop. It was too unjust. "Please don't leave me….. You've fought so hard for us to be together. Fight for us now. Please don't leave me. Don't leave Chloe. I should have told you. So many times… I love you. I can't live here if you're not with me…"

Her tears fell unchecked onto his bed and their hands.

There was a stirring. "Please don't cry…" Malone said.

He blinked and looked up at her. "Oh my God, you're back!" she exclaimed.

"Where am I? A hospital? What happened…" He struggled to sit up but the pain sent him back down onto the pillow. "I remember…"

"Say something else…" Sam urged him. "I want to be sure that you're ok." She was laughing and crying at once.

"Can I have my ring back?"

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

The doctors deemed him out of danger. When he lay sleeping peacefully, Sam took a walk down to the hospital chapel, sank to her knees and thanked God from the bottom of her heart. He had given her a miracle and she was determined to merit it.

CHAPTER XVI

Grace had stayed behind in Kentucky. John, accompanied by Rachel and George, had returned to Atlanta to compile their report on the capture of Jack of all Trades. The Bureau had caught wind of the VCTF's involvement and was breathing down their necks, wanting closure quickly.

Grace had stayed: Malone's condition was improving daily, but she had not yet completed her analysis of the drug used by Jack to inject both Malone and John. Better safe than sorry.

"Hospital food…Everything looks the same. Tastes the same…" Sam smiled timidly at Grace while nibbling on a limp salad that had seen fresher days.

"He'll be out of here soon…" Grace placed her hand over Sam's reassuringly. "Then what?" Grace added casually, as an afterthought. She was a very measured, methodical individual. Inadvertent comments were not her style.

Sam grew serious. "You have something on your mind. Let's have it."

Grace sat back in her chair.

"When you left last year, it nearly destroyed Malone…" Grace began.

Sam moved her hands to her face as though to block out what Grace was saying.

"No, Sam, I want you to hear this. You have to understand."

Sam sighed. She had wanted to begin anew, as though time had stood still from the day she left Atlanta.

"It's been hell, Sam. For him… for the rest of the team. The morning after you left, he didn't come in to work. He left us the letters you had written, each in our respective in-boxes. We were stunned. We waited, telephoned his mobile phone repeatedly. Nothing. John and I finally took a turn over to his house. We were worried, Sam. It wasn't like him. Under normal circumstances…"

"And what did you find?" Sam was compelled to ask the question. It was like a passer-by who witnesses a car accident: she had to approach, see for herself the extent of the damage.

"The door was unlocked. He was passed out on his couch. Several bottles of Scotch attested to the cause. Cigar ash. We cleaned him up as best we could. I pumped coffee into him. He let us help him, barely. But, Sam, it was though a light had gone out of his eyes, out of his life.

Tears formed in Sam's eyes, suspended, glittering. She hadn't even begun to guess the turmoil she had caused. Selfishly, the only thing that had mattered to her was Chloe.

"And after…later… He became a one-man crime-fighting band. We were handling multiple cases at the same time. Stretched thin. Tempers flared. The FBI brass was threatening to cut our budget for the next calendar year. Bailey was sleeping on his office couch…he was on a first-name basis with the pizza delivery guy…"

The tears trickled silently down Sam's face. She didn't bother to wipe them away.

"He was just starting to come of out it, take back his life… when you called about Chloe. The budget fight seemed to ignite him. He was seeing someone, a Congresswoman from D.C. …."

"Why are you telling me this?" Sam managed.

"So you'll have some idea of what you're facing…" her friend stated calmly.

Grace stopped and leaned forward suddenly. "Listen, Sam. I love you dearly. Whatever happened between you and Malone … regarding Chloe, well that's none of my business…. But you have Chloe back now. You left him once before…"

"Chloe was in trouble. She was mad at the world. Particularly at the VCTF and my role in it…" Sam immediately began to defend herself. It was an automatic response. The best defense is a good offense…Malone had always told her that.

"Your reasons are your own," Grace said softly. "I just wanted to suggest that if you're only motivation for calling Malone was to get your daughter back… if you're planning to leave again…" Grace paused. This was harder than she had imagined. But she had to forge ahead, she had promised the other team members that she would clarify the situation. "If you're planning to leave again, then just do it! Don't wait… it'll just make it harder for him, and the VCTF needs Bailey, particularly now."

Sam remained silent for a moment. All the words that came to her lips seemed self-serving and useless. She felt anger: how could Grace, her other colleagues, think that she would use Malone in that way? But then again, could she really blame them for their suspicions? After they had captured Albert Nuquay, she had, indeed, turned tail and run. Despite what she felt for Malone. She hadn't bothered to say good-bye in person to colleagues with whom she had been close, shared everything, for years. She had kept Chloe's paternity a secret from her father.

"I love Bailey, Grace. He isn't just the father of my daughter. He means everything to me. I'm in this for the long haul."

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

Chloe entered Malone's room with a little knock and found him settled in a wheelchair, dejectedly channel surfing in frustration.

"Hi!" she said overly brightly.

"Come in!" he smiled at her and motioned her forward.

To see Malone like this, in the wheelchair and dependent, awoke horrific memories in Chloe.

"This is just for 'show.'" Malone had noticed the clouds rolling in and moved to reassure her. "They keep insisting that I 'take it easy.'"

"Not something you're good at…" Chloe responded, visibly relaxing as she took a seat.

"I brought you this…" Chloe thrust a package into his hands, shyly. He ripped through the wrapping haphazardly, eager to see what she had brought. Chloe smiled: her mother had always been so meticulous with the paper, while she had always torn through it like an impatient tornado.

An electronic chess set. "Safer if you teach me using game-pieces, don't you think?" Chloe asked.

Malone laughed. "You're a quick study…"

Chloe screwed up her courage and spoke up. "I thought we should talk…about… things…" she stammered. Not very eloquent, but understandable nonetheless.

"You start…" Malone but down the chess set and gave her his full attention. He wanted her to have all the latitude she needed. He reminded himself to listen without judging or analyzing, something he had never seemed able to do with any success for Frances and Ariana.

"No fair!" she smiled wickedly.

She had the ball. The problem was, she wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. Bailey had always treated her like an adult, an intelligent human being rather than a little child. She wanted to live up to his faith in her.

"OK…" Chloe exhaled. "I wanted to tell you how I felt when Jack had us. Things I finally understood. That hadn't made sense before.

She was struggling. He would done anything to help her, to somehow make it easier for her. But, this was something that she had to work through on her own.

"Like what?" Malone encouraged.

"How Mom must have felt… constantly at Jack's mercy… When he killed off people we cared about, like Coop. He pulled our strings like…like a puppet-master. Every tug made us move… You, Mom, me, the VCTF… To the right, to the left… Wherever Jack wanted us to go. The whole world was our prison."

Chloe was painting this in broad strokes, with the mind of a child, but Malone understood what she meant.

"I would have done anything to get out of that cell. She would have done anything to escape Jack…"

"Not 'anything,' Chloe…" Malone reminded her. But, she wasn't listening to him, but rather following the map she had drawn, trying to get from 'A' to 'Z.'

"Last year … when I met Jack… it may sound weird, but his influence wasn't all bad, you know? He brought out a lot of what I had been feeling about Mom … and Dad… Their life… his death…." Chloe sighed. "I'm sorry." She swiftly raised her eyes to his, trying to assess whether or not she had caused him pain.

"Chloe. It isn't a problem. Being a father is a lot more than just biology, do you understand?" He waited for her to nod and then continued. "Tom Waters was your father. I can still see him sitting in your mother's office, giving you your bottle and cooing, showing me pictures of you with a giant stuffed bear. They loved each other. I know it, and you don't have to bottle that up or deny it. The relationship we have has to allow room for Tom. And, it will. You don't have to put away your memories."

Chloe looked down at her hands.

"That's not it at all…" she finally said.

Malone waited for her to continue, noticing a tear begin to form and gently flow down her cheek.

"Chloe?" He was failing miserably at this. He knew that he should have asked Sam to be here when he talked to Chloe. He had no experience with adolescent girls, had proved that rather effectively with his older daughters. Big bad agent can make criminals talk in an instant but can't communicate effectively with his own flesh and blood.

She began again. "With time, I think I've figured it out…" He was gratified to see that she had regained her composure.

"I was three years old when he died. I don't HAVE any memories of him – other than what my grandparents told me or what I saw in pictures. It's horrible. I didn't miss 'him'… I couldn't. I missed what a father was supposed to be, you know? Someone who teaches you how to throw a ball or videotapes your ballet recital."

Now, he understood.

"Except, when I would close my eyes and try to imagine that… It was always you. You've always done those things for me, Dad."

Malone held his arms open to her, and she hugged him with all her heart.

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

Sam knocked cautiously on Malone's hospital room door, not wanting to interrupt his time with Chloe if they weren't finished.

The conversation with Grace had left Sam shaken, uncertain. She had taken a long walk on the hospital grounds to clear her head. Her actions, unintentional as they were, had wrecked havoc on Malone's life. If she had lived in constant fear of Jack for the last few years, then Malone had exhausted himself worrying about her, protecting her. Those were years that neither of them could ever get back. Traces were bound to remain… Scars… Did she really have the right to reappear like this in his life and ask him to make room for her once again?

Sam opened the door softly. Malone and Chloe hadn't heard her knock. The little girl stood bolt upright, with Malone leaning heavily on her shoulder as she helped him to clamber back into his bed.

Sam smiled and tossed her hair back. "Chloe, sweetie… would you wait for me outside? I'll finish tucking him in, ok?" Sam laughed.

Chloe gave Malone a quick hug and went to wait for her mother in the hallway, as Sam moved to sit next to Malone on the edge of his bed.

The nurse entered the room and stood impatiently while Malone swallowed his pain pills.

"If I'm good, Sam, will you also tell me a bedtime story?" he quipped, putting down his water glass.

Malone took Sam's hand in his and kissed her knuckles. She stroked his hand gently. Why did he have to be so damn good-looking?

"What's wrong?" The smile died on Malone's lips.

"Nothing," Sam shook her head.

"You never were a good liar, Sam. Tell me what it is…" Malone turned sideways to face her, wincing as his wound pulled tight.

"I was just remembering…" Sam turned and faced away from him.

Malone placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "I know that it's going to take time…but, it's really over… Jack is history. Now, maybe our lives can get back to normal."

Normal. When had their lives ever been 'normal'? And would he even want her when all was said and done?

Sam moved to the window and stared off into the distance. "I have to tell you something…." She began. "No, don't interrupt me…I really need to say it…The day I said good-bye to you…when we kissed and I left for Kentucky….I lied. It was the only time that I've ever lied to you…Well, if you don't count when I gave you the wrong address so I could try to apprehend Donald Lucas alone…" Sam took a breath. "Now, I'm babbling…I knew you would never let me leave. So, I told you that I could never look at you without seeing Jack's work…But I lied…"

Sam turned around. "The only thing I've ever seen in your eyes is love."

But Malone had fallen asleep, the pain medication having done its work.

Sam approached the bed and kissed his forehead tenderly. "I guess it'll have to wait for another time. I love you, Malone."

She headed for the door and her daughter, certain within herself that she had made the right choice.

Finally.

III. EPILOGUE

"No exorciser harm thee

Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

Nothing ill come near thee!

Quiet consummation have…"

William Shakespeare – Fidele

-----------------------------------

They were back in Atlanta. An Internal Affairs investigation had been launched into Jack's death and the VCTF's involvement. Malone was in trouble. He had commandeered personnel and resources without authorization to deal with a case with personal overtones. They had a lot of explaining to do.

George knocked on Bailey's office door and walked in, interrupting Malone's tense conversation with Sam.

"Uh, Bailey… this just arrived, you may want to look at it. We found this package at the Spears house."

The package was labeled "For Samantha" in bright blue ink. Jack's handwriting.

Malone took out a letter opener and gingerly cut through the masking tape securing the top flaps of the carton.

"This isn't going to go 'boom' right?" he joked with George.

"No, we already passed it through the scanners, Bail."

Sam had turned away and was staring out the window.

The box contained set of video cassettes and a letter from Jack: ""Samantha… I know you still want to know 'why.' Jack"

SAM

He had survived. When she thought about how close she had come to losing him, Sam shuddered. Her mentor, her best friend, the one who knew everything there was to know about her, every gray corner, and didn't flinch or ask her to change.

Frances had flown down to Kentucky to be with her father as soon as she heard about the shooting. They had agreed to preserve their silence about Chloe's parentage just a little longer, until they had all had more time to come to terms with the implications.

They had not had much time alone since that horrifying day in Jack's house. The day the sky fell in.

She loved him. The knowledge had come upon her progressively, but had always been present around her, as close as his arms when he hugged her to him to comfort them both over the years.

Because of Jack, she had left him once, in order to provide her daughter with a normal life. She would never leave him again, even if it meant regaining her place in the VCTF full-time. They were who they

were. Their lives were intertwined for good.

BAILEY

Something had changed between them. Malone had been air-evac'ed back to Atlanta as soon as humanly possible. He couldn't stand being away from the VCTF while his team scrambled to answer questions from the FBI brass, tried to justify their actions.

Sam was always there, a quiet presence in the background. Hovering, making certain that he rested and didn't over-extend himself. God, he loved her. It was as though, in that short hour when Jack had held them all prisoner to his threats, they had switched roles. She becoming his protector.

Her bravery had astonished him again. He had once told her that she would need to reach deep inside herself in order to outwit Jack. She had done that, and hadn't shied away from the game's resolution.

And, Chloe. A little girl full of life. Perhaps the best part of both of them. A precious gift and a sacred trust.

He wouldn't let them down.

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

SAM

Sam had brought Chloe to the VCTF headquarters, ostensibly to take Malone to lunch on his "first day back" but really to show Chloe that there were no more secrets. This was where her father (and mother?) worked. They caught bad guys. They worked with John and Grace and George, and now Rachel.

And, she was welcome. There would be no bars, no security guards, no swipe-cards to get into the house. And now, the veil of mystery surrounding the VCTF was lifted.

Chloe knocked three times on Bailey's office door, as Sam smiled down at her daughter. They heard him bark his customary "In."

"Agent Waters reporting for lunch duty, Sir!" Chloe exclaimed, running across the room and throwing her arms around Malone's neck.

Sam felt tears forming in her eyes, as happened often lately. They looked so "right" together… She excused herself to go the ladies' room for tissue and nearly collided with a woman who had been standing in the shadows.

Stiff-backed, forties, with dark blond shoulder-length hair, the woman's assessing gaze made Sam suddenly feel uncomfortable.

"Well, you must be Samantha Waters…" the woman stated calmly without extending her hand.

"Do I know you?" Perhaps this was just a new agent or administrator, someone she had yet to meet.

"Congresswoman Karen Archer." It rang no bells with Sam. "Of the House Oversight Committee…"

The source of all evil. The committee had been busy for days taking statements from John and Rachel and the rest of the team. They wanted to fry Bailey for misuse of public funds.

"Well, judging from the happy little scene I just witnessed," Congresswoman Archer spit out through clenched lips, "perhaps you'd like to revise your statement for the record?"

"And why would I want to do that?" Sam played for time, her mind probing.

"This was more than just an unsolved case to Malone, that much is patently obvious," Karen's green eyes glinted.

Green eyes, a black cat, hissing, scratching…

Sam would warn Bailey later. "Of course it was more…" Sam returned the gaze without flinching.

"You admit it?" The older woman was momentarily disconcerted.

"Much more. More than 40 victims to his credit. You should be congratulating Malone… Due to his efforts, in concert with the VCTF, the serial killer Jack of All Trades was finally caught."

"And you want me to believe that Malone knew it was 'Jack' he would be tracking when he answered your distress call in Kentucky, thus costing the taxpayers thousands of dollars in flight fuel and over-time?"

"Jack called me and identified himself shortly after Chloe's disappearance. I recognized his voice, Congresswoman Archer. The VCTF had been after him for years…"

Malone had explained to her that Congresswoman Archer had been supporting the VCTF's budget fights on the hill. He had befriended her to help the cause, and had let her down easy upon his return from Kentucky. Apparently, not easy enough.

"She looks like him. Something around the eyes…" Karen Archer concluded.

There wasn't any proof. No one in the VCTF was talking. They were rallying around their own, circling the wagons.

"I don't know what you mean," Sam smiled innocently at Congresswoman Archer. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

("Bitch.")

BAILEY

It wouldn't stop. Somewhere deep inside, Malone was well aware of this. Even dead, Jack was still f**king up his life.

The IA investigation was going badly. Grace, George, Rachel… they had all backed up the story that John had concocted spontaneously when first questioned: Bailey Malone knew it was Jack of all Trades who had kidnapped Chloe Waters BEFORE ordering his team to board the jet and work the case. He knew that nothing would shake them from their statement. But there were still questions, still suspicions.

The FBI brass had never approved of his methods. They were twisting the knife now. To hell with the 40+ bodies that Jack had sliced and diced…who cared about the victims' families and friends? It was open season on Bailey Malone, and the potential executioners were crawling out of the woodwork to stand in line and take a crack at him.

His appearance before the budget committee had only made things worse. Karen Archer, once a staunch ally, was now out for blood. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he mused.

Overall, it had been a bad week. His shoulder hurt, his head hurt, and Sam had confiscated his cigars, per doctor's orders.

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

SAM/BAILEY

"It was something beyond love…

A peace superseding knowledge,

There was no I and you,

There was only the third, unrealized wonder…

A consummation…"

Anonymous

-------------------------------------------------------

A fire glowed in the fireplace. Soft operatic music played in the background. Malone came over to join Sam on the couch in front of the fireplace,

handing her a glass of red wine.

Chloe was spending the night with Angel, who had finally returned from a European exposition of her artwork. They were alone at last, and just a little bit nervous.

"I'm sorry I was late…"

"I wanted to tell you that…"

They both started speaking simultaneously and just as quickly stopped, laughter filling in the blanks.

Jack's last present lay on the coffee table. It had lain unopened for days. Malone wondered if Sam had been reviewing the contents before his arrival. He felt a familiar knot in his stomach but brushed it away. Sam followed his gaze as he glanced at the box.

"I don't want to know," she stated calmly, as though to reassure him. "Jack's dead. The nightmare is over. I can't let him reach out from beyond the grave like this. It's over."

"I understand," Malone hugged her.

"All I need to know is one thing: was it him, and is he finally gone?"

"Yes," Malone assured her solemnly.

"Then, this is what I would like to do…" Sam picked up the box of videotapes and walked to fireplace. Slowly, she removed the first tape. "Goodbye, Jack," she intoned and tossed the video into the fire.

She smiled as she watched the tape warp and melt, disappearing in front of her eyes. Malone came up behind her and took the box from her hands. He up-ended the rest of its contents into the fire.

A strange blue light flickered among the dancing flames.

"I lost the fight," Malone murmured, leaning against the fireplace and sipping from his glass. "The VCTF's budget for next year was slashed 15%. They've initiated a complete investigation into the search and capture of Jack. There were mutterings about bringing me up on charges."

"Bailey, God… No…" Sam looked away. It was her fault. If she hadn't called him, he wouldn't have rushed to her aid. He had worked his whole life to reach this place in his career, where he could call the shots and save lives on his own terms. She had ruined that for him, too.

"No, Sam… it's not your fault…" Malone tilted her face up towards his. "What they will never realize is that I would have gone after Jack even if Chloe hadn't been my daughter, even if it hadn't been you who asked… Because of Jack."

Sam kissed him softly on the lips, felt him sigh and relax.

"You've always been here…" Sam placed a hand over her heart. "Even when I was away. No matter how far away. I could still feel you here."

"Sam…" Malone began.

"No, let me finish…I need to tell you what I feel," Sam pleaded, taking him by the hand and leading him back to the couch. He nodded silently, wanting to hear what she had to say.

"We gave life to Chloe not by mistake, but out of friendship and caring. I didn't know what I wanted that night in 1988. I was scared, roped in to a certain path. I didn't recognize what was in front of me, and I ran like a frightened child."

"I didn't protest. I could have … should have. But I wanted you in my life, even on your terms." Malone contributed.

"Then there was Tom, my work, life… I always knew that I could count on you, Malone." Sam seemed wistful.

"And vice versa," he admitted.

"Jack appeared. Took away so many people who mattered to me. I tried to protect Chloe. I ran again." Sam mused. "When I came back to help you form the VCTF… it wasn't just for me. It was for you. You have no idea how I missed you, the closeness, the unspoken understanding."

"But I led Jack back to you…it all started up again."

"He would have found me, wherever I decided to hide. He would eventually have hunted me down. You gave me the chance to fight back. I would have been hiding still, without your faith in me."

Malone smiled at Sam and took her hand in his, kissing the palm. It was always like this between them. A bond so strong not even Jack had been able to break it.

"When you were missing, Rachel said that Jack knew I loved you… that he had left me alive to bear witness to your conversion and play with my emotions. That was to be his greatest revenge." Malone admitted to her.

"I asked about you and he said: 'You should be flattered… his last word on this earth was 'Sam.' That's when I knew…when I allowed myself to see… how very much you mean to me." Sam's tears glistened in her eyes.

Malone wiped them away gently.

"You left me. Just when it was over and we thought you were free." His brows furrowed. "I thought I was going to die."

"There was Chloe. I had this huge secret that no one knew. She hated me. She hated my job and what the VCTF stood for. She blamed me for Tom's death and for not having had the chance to spend time with her father. I had to go… to save your daughter… to save me." Sam sighed. "There wasn't a day that I didn't think about you and wonder what could have been."

"And now?" Malone looked hopeful. "So much has happened…We're back where we were a year ago…" Surely, this time, they could make it work?

"I'm not leaving you. I love you, Malone…"

He reached out his hand, and his fingers traced the shape of her face, her lips. Tears formed in his eyes. This was what he had needed to hear.

"I've waited so long…" Malone could barely get the words out. His voice shook with emotion.

Sam kissed his eyes, his lips. Trying to erase the pain of the past.

"I love you, Sam." He hugged her to him, as he had done so many times before and buried his face in her hair.

They sat in peace, arms around each other, hearts beating in synchronicity for a long time. No words were spoken. They had never needed words to understand each other.

"I tendered my resignation this morning…" Malone finally spoke up. Sam sat back, stunned.

"It was going to be a damn witch-hunt. They wanted to interview Chloe, rehash the whole 'Jack' situation. And, frankly, I was tired of people using my heart as a bull's eye. Someday, I was gonna come across a better marksman. Then what? So, I opted out."

"Can you just leave? Where will you go?" Sam managed. She had never envisioned that Malone might be the one to go. That was her modus operandus. He had always been her rock, her port in a storm.

"I thought I'd move to Kentucky… maybe raise horses, start a motorcycle collection, enjoy my daughter…" Malone's voice dropped off tenderly.

Sam turned to him. "And, am I somewhere in this little picture you're painting?"

Malone pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her securely. "Sam, sweetheart…" he whispered in her ear. "You ARE the picture."

FINIS

Author's note: I'm pretty sure that Bailey watched the tapes (he's rather certain that Jack is really gone) or had George make copies that are safe under lock and key somewhere.