Author's Note: I feel I was quite quick this time. I hope you enjoy this. As you will notice, in a way it's a sequel to Down under. Read and review, please!!! (There might be more mistakes than usually, but I wanted to upload it as soon as possible, sorry!)
Chapter one
Agent John Grant woke up at exactly 6 o'clock in the morning just like every other day. He didn't need an alarm-clock to do so. His mother had often told him that he'd had a special inner clock.
However this day was a little bit different: his first day back at work. He has been on a sick-leave for fifteen days from which ten days he spent in the hospital. These fifteen days weren't too many in the opinion of Sam, Bailey or Grace, but John meant that they were entirely too many.
Especially his stay in hospital nerved him, but he understood the importance of it. Even if he didn't want to admit he wasn't well enough to manage on his own. Especially in the first few days when even opening his eyes had been a complicated task.
He got up and went to the bathroom.
He still had bandage on the wound considering that the stitches would be taken out only next week. He couldn't deny that he still had pain, particularly when he made some abrupt movement. Not the wound was that hurt, it was a deeper pain as if his inner organs had been replaced or so. He felt some dull pain all the time, but if he moved quickly it shot in his side so sharply that it left him breathless.
But it wasn't that bad! He was well acquainted with pain and he was good at hiding it.
He took a shower, cautiously not to water his bandage, shaved and dressed up, then for a few minutes he studied himself in the mirror. He lost weight but not that much, and it wasn't really obvious.
Of course the doctor told him, that after an injury like his he can't work at least for two month and he knew that he couldn't do field-work, though working in the office he could manage. He had told Bailey that he would go in, even if they wouldn't pay him for it, and he meant it. He was fed up with being at home alone the whole day.
And as Bailey was in a very good mood at the moment – he went so far that he actually thanked John for "betraying" his feelings to Sam! - he agreed. He had only one reservation: John would immediately tell if he couldn't stand the strain. John had bowed enthusiastically, but of course he had no intention to do so. But it doesn't matter because he would manage!
The only good thing in this whole situation was that he could tell Sam the truth about Bailey. He had known it for a while - not as if Bailey had told him! He would probably never do it, but John wasn't blind and though nobody had thought about him (not even his closest workmates) he could be quite sensitive... sometimes.
Yes, nobody would have guessed that exactly John Grant would be the person who realizes such a thing. That's the consequence if you don't have people around you who you can call real friends. Not as if they didn't want to be his friends but he couldn't... open up. It was bad habit, he knew, but every time he tried to speak about himself he felt as if there was a lump in his throat.
He realized of course that this wasn't quite normal. He should have get over this behavior a long time ago: he wasn't a child anymore. But knowing about something didn't mean to be able to change it. John wasn't a psychologist like Sam, but he didn't need to be one to realize what his problem was... And he could face it, he could control his feelings, he just didn't want to talk about it. He had the right to do so, didn't he? Or at least, that was what he tried to make himself believe...
He didn't use his own car, because he found driving difficult with his waist still hurting. So he used the public transport instead which meant of course arriving later than usual.
When he stepped out from the elevator, the everyday busy life of the headquater welcomed him. And Grace.
"Hey! Back on your feet already?" she welcomed him.
"Hi. Yes, I couldn't stand being without you any longer!"
"Charming as always" she joked. But then her face became serious and studied him with a doctor's eyes. "You really scared us, you know."
"I'm sorry. I assure you it wasn't my intention to let me shot."
"Yeah, I guessed that much. Bailey told that you would come in already. Isn't this too early? You look tired."
"Yes, I'm tired of being at home. I'm okay Grace, really! Is there anything new here?" He obviously tried to change the subject, and Grace was tactful enough to notice it.
"Not really. The same old shit: mad serial killers all around the country..."
"If it's so then I'm up for reading through some files!"
"But take it easy, John!" the coroner warned him.
"Don't worry, mum!" Grace gave him a huge smile. "I'm quite sure that nobody's died on reading till now!"
As he walked to his desk he felt her eyes on his back, so John forced himself to walk lightly and not to limp at all.
John's corner in the office consisted of a desk and two file cabinets. And they both were quite full at the moment. The VCTF team worked on 20-25 cases at once. In some of them they only gave advice how to go on with the investigation, or how to interrogate the perpetrator to get a confession. There were other cases where they led or made the whole investigation by themselves. And then he didn't count the "dead" cases. These were the ones where they didn't have any result in more than a year.
Now, John opened one of the cabinets and studied the good number of file folders. After a short hesitation he took out the thickest folder. It was the Seattle-case. He always named the cases after a city – usually after the city where the murders were committed. In this case the name wasn't correct, because they found bodies all over the country, but the first one was found in Seattle.
He sat down and opened the folder. This was an abridged version of the whole file, but it still included over two-hundred pages. There were the reports of the local police officers, the confessions of the witnesses (there weren't too much of them, to be honest!), photos of the scenes and characteristics of the victims.
The victims were all young males between fifteen and twenty. They were all waifs, some of them even drug-addicts or prostitutes. They were easy targets, who nobody missed.
John took out one of the photos. It was taken of the third victim in Washington, and wasn't a nice picture. The young man was nineteen but in his death he looked not older than fourteen. His body was naked and badly beaten, there were bruises all over it. He was beaten so badly that in a place one broken rib pierced through the skin on his chest. However, for some reason, there wasn't a single injury on his face.
After he had studied the photo for a few seconds he put it back and took out his own notes. These were only thoughts he got after reading through the file, he didn't write his report yet. In most cases they all got the files and everybody wrote his or her own report which Bailey read and then summarized.
On the top of the notes stood: organized offender. White male. He must travel a lot. Truck-driver? Then he crossed it – and wrote: no, he has a more qualified job. Some kind of agent? Married.
The murder used a baseball-cub.
These were only fragments but they helped him a lot. Usually. He wasn't a natural profiler like Sam who could read the minds of criminals. However he learned a lot and could read from the evidences. I should read the whole stuff again. But first he wrote down another thought: Ask for conferences in town!
For the next few hours he buried himself in the pages of a sick story.
Sam arrived at half past eight, because she wanted to escort Chloe to school as it was the first day after the spring holiday. In the last days she felt as if she had been reborn. In one simple word she was happy. Why didn't they try this earlier? As Chloe told her so often: adults can be so complicated!
She enjoyed being with Bailey very much, and they spent a lot of time together. Chloe accepted it quite easily that their relationship changed. Especially, after they had spent a whole Saturday in the zoo that she admired.
And yes, they dated almost every day. They went to dinner, to cinema, to theatre and to Sam's surprise to dance. To tell the truth Bailey wasn't such a great dancer but he tried and they laughed so much that evening! And something else and more important happened that evening as well...
She had to smile when she thought about that sweet night.
"Another adventurous night with our fearsome boss?"
It was Grace, of course. She was the first person who noticed the change. Nathan suspected it, but George wouldn't recognize it, if he hadn't seen Sam and Bailey kissing in the elevator.
"Not this time."
"What a pity!"
"I have to agree on that. But Frances was in town yesterday."
"You don't want to tell her yet?"
"I don't know. It's Bailey's choice."
"By the way, John is here."
Sam frowned.
"I hoped, Bailey could convince him to stay at home at least another weak."
"I see, you still don't know him enough."
"I guess you're right..." she answered thoughtfully.
"Anyhow" shrugged Grace. "I have to go now. Bailey wants my report of the Vermont case today."
"All right. I'll go and visit the boys, then."
She walked in the office and glimpsed John at his desk. He seemed to be busy with his files, and when Sam greeted him, he only hemmed something under his nose, so she targeted Bailey's door instead.
"Good morning!"
"Hi!"
She bent over the desk and kissed him on the cheek which of course didn't satisfied Bailey. He pulled her closer and they kissed quite passionately.
"Huh" sighed Sam, after she had her breath again. "You can make even a Monday morning exciting."
"It's just because you make me inventive!"
She smiled. She wasn't a teenager anymore but she enjoyed his compliments and after those long years she felt as a real woman again. The last time she felt something like this, was with Tom... and it was definitely too long ago.
"Is something new?" she asked after she came back to earth.
"Oh, just this bureaucratic shit. Sometimes I hate being the boss here."
"You are good liar, dear. I know you enjoy it, to regiment us around and everything."
"Yes, I almost forget that part. Then maybe I should order you to plan next year's budget."
"I think then this whole institute would collapse to ruins" she answered laughing.
The phone rang and Bailey pointed at it.
"You see, this is one point I hate. Always in the worst moment." But he answered it anyway. "Malone."
The smile instantly vanished from his face. He quietly listened for a few minutes.
"I see." And then. "Yes, tell them that we're coming and not to touch anything." Another short pause. "Thank you."
He hang up and Sam suddenly had a very nasty feeling in her stomach. Something was wrong and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what. When Bailey looked her in the eyes she didn't even need to ask.
"It's Jack."
Malone nodded. "He killed a woman in New Jersey."
"Jersey? It is out of his territory."
Bailey shrugged.
"He left a message and a rose. It's definitely him. The scene is intact, I want our own investigators there."
"When do we leave?"
"In an hour. I'll tell the others, you can prepare for the journey."
She nodded as if she were in a trans. Why now, when everything was so perfect? She could almost forget that a mad man is after her, she started to believe that she could have a normal life. But no, Jack has to poison everything...
Bailey met the others in the command center and told them the news briefly. He knew that Jack wasn't just Sam's business, they all wanted to catch him more than any other murderer.
"Grace, I want you to come with us. George, you stay and organize everything from here. John..."
"I'll go with you."
"Like hell! You don't have your license back!"
"I won't go on field, but you'll need somebody at the PD. And we will have a doctor with us!" he smiled innocently.
Bailey sighed.
"Why do I have the feeling that I can't hold you back?"
"Maybe because you have known me for a long time?"
"Too long, I guess... All right, but you stay in, whatever happens."
"Sure."
"Don't try to bugger me around!" Bailey warned the younger man.
"Would I ever?"
"Don't make me answer this question!"
But it was good to have John back, so this one time Bailey passed by everything.
AN2: Does anybody know why counts FFnet less words than Word?