Well, here is the second part of my story, The Fragile. Any flames, comments, offers of sainthood :) can be sent to icequeen100@yahoo.com. The character of Fiona belongs to me, but Skinner belongs to Fox, CC and 10:13 productions. Unfortunately, Profiler belongs to NBC/Court TV and Kronish, which is too bad because if I owned it, Bailey and Sam would still be putting the bad guys away…together J (Can't tell I'm an SBR freak, can ya?) And Kronish would be picking up garbage on the side of a road somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
The Fragile Pt.2
Sam is totally silent as we head back to Atlanta. I can't blame her. I should have at least used some of my common sense, but I was in too much of a hurry to catch that scumbag serial racist.
"Sam," I say quietly, "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
"I know," She replies softly. "I was worried about you, that's all. When George called me and gave me the news, all I could think about was you. He can't stand you, Bailey, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind eating your liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti." I snort at her 'Silence of the Lambs' mention.
"Sam," I say, turning on the radio to a classical station, "When we get back to Atlanta, I want you to stay with me. You'll be safe at my place."
"Bailey, if Fiona gets wind of this-"
"Fiona can kiss my ass. I'm just sorry we weren't able to nail hers to the wall."
"All right then. But whatever happens Malone, I don't want you going after Jack alone. You know what he can do to a person."
"So don't you," I chide her gently. She grunts in agreement and stares gloomily out the window, into the darkness.
"That's different," She says quietly, unconsciously tapping out the rhythm to 'Moonlight Sonata'.
"How so?"
"He doesn't want to kill me, Bailey," Sam replies dryly. "He just wants to possess me."
"In my book, both are just as bad. He got you once, Sam. I can't risk him getting you again. I won't."
"So we're gonna have to wait until he makes his move…continues the game…"
"It certainly looks that way."
Three hours later, we arrive back at the Task Force. John and George are sitting in their seats in the Command Center when we walk in, and by the looks on their faces, it's anything but good news.
"Well Bailey," John begins, taking his feet off the table, "The phones have been ringing off the hook. All the major networks want interviews."
"Tell them we'll have a news conference first thing tomorrow morning. Are there any leads at all?" George speaks up.
"Grace went over the scene with a fine tooth comb. Found nothing." Sam frowns.
"Nothing? Not even a note?" John shakes his head as our profiler flops down in her own chair.
"Not even with the black light."
I glance at Sam, whose gaze is far away.
"He wasn't expecting this," She murmurs softly. "He'd never pass up the opportunity to brag, but they didn't give him enough time."
"Yeah," George agrees, punching up some information on the jailbreak, "Despite all the firepower they had, it was a fairly clean jailbreak, fast and not too messy."
"We have the rest of the prison in lockdown," John adds, "And the cell that Jack was in has been taped off until you arrive." Too tired to argue, Sam only nods and says nothing.
"What has our lovely Section Chief had to say about it?"
"Nothing much, really. Just trying to reassure everyone that she's going to do her best to catch him reasonably soon."
"-Using this as some kind of goddamn publicity stunt." I raise my eyebrows and glance at Sam, who's tapping her fingers lightly on the table.
"Is she?" I reply mildly, and she nods.
"She's always up to something, Malone. When she isn't trying to make us look bad, she's in Washington trying to get Skinner into bed with her. I mean, come on. The woman's a brown-noser." I had to agree. Fiona didn't like us at all, Sam in particular. But that's another story.
"Sam, for right now, I want you to get some sleep. We'll go to Macon first thing in the morning." She shakes her head in disagreement.
"Bailey, I can't wait that long. You know that." Our eyes meet, and the determination in those icy blue eyes of hers tells me I'd better agree. If I don't, she'll go anyway.
"All right, Sam. I'll call Macon, tell them you're on your way. But John's going with you."
"Okay then," Sam grabs her stuff as John gets out of his chair. "Let's go." Both agents leave, and I lean back in my chair, contemplating George's sad look.
"What didn't you tell us, George. You left something out."
"…Jack sent Sam an untraceable e-mail. It's…pretty explicit about what his intentions are as far as you and Sam are concerned."
"…Let's see it." George brings it up on his computer, and as I read the message, it becomes all too perfectly clear; Sam and I have never been in this much danger before. Maybe it would have been for the best if I'd never brought her back in from hiding.
~ Fin