Author's note: I don't want to say much this time. I apologize again for the long wait, but it seems I'm a slow writer! Thanks everybody for reviewing, please do it again, becaus it really encourages me to write more. For everybody who is interested: I uploaded my Charmed story as well, check it out if you feel like it! Thanks again and here with: read and enjoy!
Chapter 3.
The rain stopped. At least that meant some improvement, but it was still rather cold. The dead body lied in an abandoned alley behind some block of flats.
"Shit!"
They were standing over the body of the victim, and they all thought the same, but it was John who said it out loud. He was extremely quiet during the way here, and Sam threw a lot of worried glances in his direction, but now he seemed a little bit more alive.
The fact that made all of them rather stunned was that the message became quite obvious. The resemblance was even more definite this time, only that the victim was a man, and not a woman. A man in his forties, who could have been Bailey's brother.
"You were right" told Sam. "He wants more attention, only not in the way you guessed."
"But how can he know?" Bailey's voice didn't waver, but he was apparently strained.
"He's watching me... us... all the time. And he doesn't like the idea that I found you..."
"You both should go back to Atlanta." Suggested John quietly.
"And what?" snapped Bailey. "Let you here on your own?!"
John shrugged. He knew his boss and knew when to stop arguing.
"I want this place cleaned as soon as possible. There must be a sign. Any sign. I'm sure he wants to lead us somewhere. Do you agree, Sam?"
"He always wants something. Maybe he only wants to scare me away from you..." she looked somehow distant.
"Sam, can we talk? Alone." Bailey asked in a worried tone.
"Of course."
They walked away and John looked at Grace:
"I guess the hard work is left to us again..." he smiled with not much enthusiasm.
---------------------------
They stood in the safety of a gateway where nobody could see them.
"You don't let him ruin everything, do you?" asked Bailey urgently.
"I don't want to, but..."
"But? I'm an FBI agent, Sam! Don't start with the I-don't-want-to-endanger-you! Our job is dangerous anyway and even if we are not together Jack could kill me!" he reasoned passionately.
"I know."
"Then? You're O.K?"
"I guess so."
"You won't think about dropping me because of this bastard?"
Sam smiled at him and Bailey was glad to see the sparkle coming back in her eyes.
"I love you Bailey Malone" she said.
"Yes, you mentioned it before..." and he caressed her waist and pulled her closer.
"Should I stop it?" she asked playfully.
"No way! I can't hear it enough times." He bent closer and kissed her deeply.
"I love you too, by the way" he added when they parted again. And it was true: he had never felt this way before, and he was sure that after so many years he found his real soulmate. He won't let this relationship being destroyed by a madman like Jack.
This time Sam took the lead, and they kissed each other again, absolutely unaware of their surrounding. Until they heard somebody cough discreetly.
They broke away reluctantly and when Bailey looked up, he saw a grinning John.
"Sorry" he told, but he didn't seem to be sorry at all.
"Could you please erase that grin from your face."
"Why should I? I'm just happy to see my masterpiece!" he told, but then his expression graved. "Grace examined the body, and she says that he can't be dead for more than half an hour. I guess we should ask around in the neighbourhood. It's not that early, maybe somebody was already up. From the windows they could have seen something."
"Yes, you are right. We split up, you take the eastern block, I take the western. Sam please, go back to the police department with Grace and contact George. I asked him to do another research, maybe he found some connection between Jack and this damned city."
Sam nodded, and they all went to do their job.
------------------------
It slowly dawned and Bailey had woken up about fifty people so far and most of them weren't too glad about it.
"So, you didn't see anything strange?"
"No. However I was up, you know, I'm not a great sleeper. But I didn't hear or see anything."
"Sorry for the disturbance, and thank you."
When the elderly lady closed the door, Bailey sighed and leant against the wall. The house had an open gangway, just like the building on the opposite side and he could see John there talking to somebody. This was the last flat from where the street could have been seen. He decided to walk down again, and wait for John. Then they could go back to the police station and decide what their next step should be.
The street was still quiet, it was seven in the morning and Saturday, so most people enjoyed the weekend. The body was taken away already but the signs of the crime could still be recognized. He looked around and then glimpsed something.
A van stood at the corner of the street, that he didn't see before. Maybe it doesn't mean anything, but somehow he found it strange. There weren't any stores in this street, and for the residents there was a garage under the building.
He went closer to the vehicle and didn't see the dark figure that emerged from the shadows of the gateway. When he heard the movement it was late. He started to turn, when something hard connected with his shoulder blade. It probably would have hit his head if he hadn't moved. Bailey heard his bone crack and felt a sharp pain. He had no chance to block the second blow that caught him square on the head. He fell to the knees but hasn't lost consciousness yet. He tried to take out his gun, but his movements were slow and his eyesight was blurry. Before the attacker crushed down a third time he thought about Sam, and then he felt a hard blow on his chest and everything went black.
------------------------
John always liked questioning people and he knew that he was good at it. Somehow most people found him appealing and opened up quite easily. But sometimes this could be a disadvantage because he had to listen to long stories about family members and strange neighbours.
This time it wasn't different either, he was talking to a middle-aged woman who apparently knew everything of her neighbours and was in the middle of a long story. His thoughts slowly wandered away and he looked down to the street.
He glimpsed a small figure and recognized his boss in it...and then he saw another figure coming from the gateway, and this one had something in his hands that strongly reminded him of a baseball cub.
"Bailey!" he tried to warn the agent, but he was on the eights floor and there was no chance to shout loudly enough. Without another word to the woman he started to run down the stairs taking two at a time.
He arrived on the street, when Jack – it had to be Jack after all! – started to get in the van that stood at the corner. Bailey was nowhere to seen that was a good sign, in a way. If he had killed him, then he would have left the body on the street. John guessed that the murderer put him in the van, hopefully alive. John stopped and shouted:
"FBI! Stop!"
Jack turned and John saw that there was a gun in his right hand. The agent fired without aiming properly and then jumped back. Jack shot but the bullets splintered off the bricks. Then John heard the door of the car slamming and the engine starting. John moved fast, he jumped out of his shelter and this time he aimed. He fired two times and punched both of the rear tyres.
The van ran a few meters but then the driver wasn't able to control it anymore, so the car swerved and after a short struggling it crashed in the container that stood at the end of the alley.
Jack obviously wasn't injured as he immediately jumped out, looked at John, then turned and started to run. John hesitated for a moment – should he look after Bailey, or chase Jack? He knew what Bailey would say, so he started after the murderer.
Jack was already turning in into the next street, but John could still see him. They ran about five hundred meters and Jack tried to get rid of his chaser by making some unexpected bends. They quickly got to a wider street where – despite the early hour – were a few people who slowed down they run. John managed to get closer and closer to Jack and he saw that the murderer looked back at him more and more often. Maybe he began to worry?
However John started to feel a sharp pain in his back - that reminded him of his injury, which he fortunately had forgotten for a while – he sped up even more. The space between them started to decrease radically, and he shouted after Jack to stop. In vain, of course. There were only fifty meters between them, then twenty, ten... and then without hesitation he jumped at Jack, knocking him over.
They were wrestling on the ground, the baseball cap fell from Jack's head and for a second they came face to face. Then Jack punched him at his side, accurately on his healing wound and John fell back. For a long moment he felt that he couldn't breathe. Intense pain burnt in his abdomen and his sight went blurry. Oh, damn! I can't faint in front of the most feared serial killer... But he didn't have to worry about this part as Jack jumped up and started to flee again.
John made a vague effort to stand up but he managed only to his knees. He felt still dizzy but he saw clearly now. And watched helplessly as Jack vanished at the next corner. Although he didn't want to give up chasing the murderer, he had no other choice. As hard as he tried his body didn't want to obey and for a few minutes he just kneeled on the ground, panting.
Bailey... I have to go back to that van... However they ran past some by-passers before, there was nobody to see right now. This is just my luck! He closed his eyes and concentrated on suppressing the pain and when he thought that he wouldn't fall, he struggled to the feet.
He started to walk back - much more slowly this time – and he took out his telephone and called the central.
"District 23. How can I help you?"
"Agent Grant, FBI. I need help at Henderson Street. An agent is injured, send an ambulance and please contact Agent Walters."
"Understand. Help is on the way, Agent Grant."
"Thank you."
Despite the pain in his abdomen and back, he arrived back quite quickly. He opened the back-door of the van, and his heart jumped when he saw the limp figure. He jumped in and checked the pulse. It was strong and seemed stable, but there was a deep wound on Bailey's head and it bled strongly.
"Bailey!" he tried to wake him, but there was no reaction. John sunk to a sitting position and waited.
-----------------------------
Grace had finished the autopsy a few minutes ago and joined Sam in the office, the local police borrowed them. Sam was buried in a huge mound of files.
"Did you speak to George?" she asked when Sam looked up.
"Yes, he didn't find anything new, but is still working on it."
"You are worried."
Sam smiled at her with a sad smile.
"Of course, I'm worried. I feel so helpless... Why is it, that I can forsee other criminals but Jack is still a mystery to me?"
Grace shrugged.
"I'm only the coroner here... but did you ever think about it that you are maybe too involved?"
"Actually, yes. But after what happened to me, I don't think that Bailey could find another profiler for this case."
"You might be right. But I'm sure..."
A knock cut her off mid-sentence, and then one of the detectives tucked in his head.
"I'm sorry Agent Walters, but we got a call from Agent Grant. He asked for help at Henderson Street, according to our dispatcher he said that somebody is injured..."
He couldn't really finish his sentence, because Sam was already on her feet and out of the office. Grace had to jog, if she didn't want to drop behind.
---------------------------
When they arrived some patrols and an ambulance was already there, and Grace saw that the paramedics were working on somebody. She looked at Sam, who was pale as ashes, and she was slightly trembling.
Grace opened the door and wanted to get out of the car, but Sam grabbed her arm. All her desperation was there in that single clench.
"I can't..."
"It's O.K. Sam, I'll go."
She jumped out and rushed to the paramedics' side. She could see that they weren't doing any life-saving interventions, and this was a good sign. Then she glimpsed John, who was leaning against the ambulance, but when he saw her, started to walk in her direction.
"How bad is it?" she asked.
"He has a broken bone in his shoulder, and some broken ribs I guess, and a quite ugly wound on his head. He hasn't regained consciousness yet, the paramedics say though that his vitals are satisfactory."
Grace waved at Sam immediately, who – despite of her fears - got out and now was pacing in front of the car throwing worried glances at the scene. She hurried past them with obvious relief and joined the paramedics at Bailey's side. Grace saw tears in her eyes but she clearly tried to stay strong.
Grace herself was also worried for Bailey, even if their boss wasn't desperately wounded, head injuries could be quite dangerous. After a few minutes the paramedics were finished and put the stretcher in the ambulance, Sam joined them as well.
"Where's your car?" turned Grace to John.
"Beyond the corner. But... could you drive, please?"
Grace raised her left eyebrow: John Grant asks her to drive? This was more than strange! But she didn't comment it, when she saw John wincing.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes. It's just my wound..."
"Just?" Grace grimaced. "What did you do?"
"I chased after Jack..."
"You are mad. You could have been killed..."
"What should I have done, in your opinion?" John snapped, but then shook his head. "Sorry... It was a long evening. We better get going."
------------------
They joined Sam in the waiting room of the ER. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she seemed years younger. Grace's mother-instinct kicked in immediately and she brought a big mug of coffee.
"Are you all right?" she asked when she came back.
"I think... Tell me he would be O.K."
"He will" John answered. "Jack didn't hurt him badly, he only wanted Bailey unconscious, not dead."
"I don't even want to think about what he wanted to do to him..." Sam whispered.
"But it didn't happen" tried Grace point out the positive side.
"Yes, thank to you" Sam looked up to John who smiled shyly. "Thank you."
"It was nothing, really."
There was at last a slight smile on Sam's face.
"Oh, yes? Then why do you look like a drained lemon?"
"Because he ran seven streets to get Jack" cut in Grace, that earned her a cross look from John.
That was when a doctor came out and asked for them.
"Agent Malone was brought to a room upstairs" the doctor explained. "He regained consciousness. He has a broken rib and some bruised ones. His shoulder was dislocated and he has a concussion. That's why we want to keep him here overnight. But you don't have to worry, he is going to make a full recovery soon."
"Thank you, can he get visitors?"
"Yes, one of you can see him now, but only for a few moments. He got some painkillers and will be drowsy for a while."
Sam looked at the others apologetically.
"Just go" said Grace and John nodded as well and she vanished behind one of the doors.
"I'll go back to the PD" said John.
"You should lie down, maybe even let your check out by a doctor."
"There's no need. The would want a report, and I want to look for a drawer... I saw his face, Grace. Maybe we can identify him at last."
Grace sighed, seeing the stubborn look on his face. She recognized lost fights, so she rather shut up, and decided to join him back to the office.
---------------------
"Well, don't you want to come in, and lie down on my couch?"
John looked at her with a frown. They were in Sam's office, three days went by since their incident with Jack and this was their first appointment. John has just arrived and was standing now in the door as if he didn't want to come in.
Though they should have been relieved, John was visibly tensed. Bailey was all right, they had a quite good description of Jack that was divulged all over the country and they hoped that they could at last identify him.
"You are insufferable, do you know that?" said John in a gruff voice.
"Yes!" And she smiled innocently. John just sighed, and Sam continued seriously. "So, do you tell me what your dream was about?"
"Would you quit if I didn't?"
"I don't think so. This isn't my sick curiosity, John! I'm worried about you, and I know from experience that it's better if we talk..."
John at last sat down, although he chose the farthest chair in the room. He looked at his hands and started to talk.
"I dream about the night my mother died. In my dream I'm lying on the ground and I hear my parents shouting...then my father rushes away and my mother... she starts pacing in the house... she takes some pills and drinks from a bottle... Then I hear the front door and then I hear her open the garage and the engine starting. I want to shout after her, stopping her somehow ... but I can't move, I can't stand up to stop her..." His voice was even, too even, for Sam's liking and he spoke quickly. She knew that he was still wearing his mask.
"People often dream such things. It's because we feel that we were helpless when our loved one died..."
John shook his head but still didn't look up from his hands.
"No, this is different. It's not just a dream... I should have stopped her. She drank and took some tranquillizer, she wasn't in the state to drive."
"She died in a car accident?"
"Yes. She lost control over the car and ran from the road. The doctor said she died immediately."
"So, it really happened this way? Your parents were arguing, than your mother ran away and had a car accident?"
"Yes."
"How old were you?"
"14."
"And were you at home?"
"Yes."
"And where were you? Did you see them?"
"I told you, I was lying on the floor in the living room..."
"But why...?" Sam was confused, she thought this "lying and being not able to move" was just a symbol of the helplessness of a child.
"What why?" He looked up at her and now he seemed just as confused as Sam felt herself.
"Why were you lying on the floor?"
"Oh... because I had a concussion and a broken leg..." his voice sounded more bitter than Sam has ever heard from him. "Thanks to my father."
"Oh, my god..." Sam exclaimed involuntary. So this was it. How could she overlook it? And his mother left him there, when he needed help? When her son was injured? In Sam's opinion she wasn't much better than the father who beat his son up.
"Don't look at me like this" John whispered.
"How?"
"Pityingly. That's why I never talk about it! Nobody can change it, they never could... and then they just look at me with those sympathetic eyes as if they would understand... but they don't. They don't even see the problem!"
Sam was glad to hear some emotion in his voice even if he was still rather low-key. He should shout...
"Why, what's the problem?"
"The problem is that I didn't stop her! It was my responsibility!"
"John, you were a child! In my opinion, she should have stayed there with you, call the ambulance..."
"No! She was ill! I should have protected her!"
Sam thought that for this topic they relationship was not strong enough, so she changed the subject.
"How long did you lie there?"
John took a deep breath to calm himself and seemed a little bit relieved.
"I don't really know, but after a while my father came back and took me to a doctor... not to the hospital, of course. There was an out-law doctor in town who helped the mob... He plastered my leg... and then the next morning some police officers came and told us what happened to my mother."
"Let's talk about your father, a little bit."
John frowned again and looked at the watch.
"How long is a sitting usually?" he asked pointedly.
"Due to the protocol it has to be at least 60 minutes before I can write an expertise."
"But you will declare me competent?"
Sam looked at him for a while and then nodded.
"Then couldn't we just stop here?"
"John, I really think that you need a consultant!" reasoned Sam. "People who were abused in their childhood can control their emotions better if they go through a therapy."
"I studied psychology too at the Academy, Sam. Maybe I'm not an expert but this much I know... or at least that they say so. I'm fine. Do you really think that I can't control my emotions?"
"Actually, I think you control them too well!"
"Look, my life wasn't a fairy tale. My father beat me up quite often, my mother was broken by him and then she died. You can sum it up in one sentence, why should we talk about it for more hours? I have to live together with my memories, which, by the way, don't bother me as much as you seem to think! Yes, I feel guilty because of the death of my mother, and this won't change either, because nobody could ever convince me that it wasn't my fault!" the last sentence was almost shouted, and for a few moments Sam just sat there and looked at him.
"All right! I won't push you, anymore, I promise." She said at last.
"Thank you. And I'm sorry for shouting at you" he calmed down quickly.
"Never mind. We are still friends, right?"
"Of course."
"Then promise me one thing: if you feel like talking you will come to me. You won't hide and suppress everything."
"O.K. I promise. Just don't pity me!"
"I won't."
"Then we have a deal, I guess."
He smiled at her slightly and Sam felt that this whole discussion was still not absolutely useless, after all.
AN2: This episode is over, but I've already started the next one! So, see you soon!