A/N I am seriously thinking of starting a website of my fictions which are primarily Profiler with a skewed pairing, ie Jack/Samantha and some BTVS that's Buffy/Spike. There are lots of Spuffy fans about but I'm interested in knowing if there are enough Skewed fans to make it worth the effort. If you're a Skewed Romantic or intrigued by the Jack/Samantha pairing please drop me a line and let me know. My email is Thanks for the input.

Samantha trembled as she drove furiously through the Atlanta night. Her evening had started nicely, a little last minute Christmas shopping for Chloe as the big day drew closer. Things had been as normal as they ever got in Samantha Water's life. Until that bitch approached her in the parking lot. It was all Jill's fault, though Sam partially blamed herself for being stupid enough to let her guard down. One moment of letting her guard down and her life changed.

The woman had asked for a jump and as Sam looked for the cables she started to pull a knife on her. It was Jack's Jill! Samantha knew it as she whirled around with her gun drawn. Then the van had come blazing into the parking lot, Jack riding to her rescue! At least she hoped, though part of her feared it was merely to save his whore. Emotions warring furiously, Samantha fired her gun before she could stop herself. Her aim was dead on for Jill's heart, but the bitch moved and Sam's foot slipped slightly on the ice, just as the gun went off. Now Jack was wounded and God only knew where.

More than anything she had wanted to take off after him and make certain he was all right, but instead she had to play along with the VCTF's chase. The worst had been having to force a smile as they discussed gleefully how likely his wound would infect and that there was a great chance he would bleed to death. Later in the evening when George put on the big computer screen pictures from the interior of the van smeared with blood, San felt nauseated and dizzy. As soon as she could she quietly slipped into the office supply closet, sank to the floor and began to cry.

She shouldn't cry, she should be celebrating, but somehow things had changed. Sam could remember the exact moment her feelings began to change, when Jill first appeared on the scene. When Jack's message read, "Miss me Sam? I DO NOT Miss You" just before they found out about Jill; she considered what life would really be like without Jack in her life. For a few minutes she thought of all the great things she could do and then realized life wouldn't be the same without Jack. For the first time ever, Jack had hurt her in a way that had nothing to do with death. Death had been nothing more than the means of delivering his message, the message was what affected her.

Knowing how horrified her friends and coworkers would have been, Sam kept her feelings to herself. But they threatened to bubble over when Jack pulled two murders off at the same time by using Jill to commit one. Seeing the mask of her own face stained with lipstick from Jill had caused her even more pain. The next day in her office, all Samantha could do was stare at the photographs of Jack's message from the murder he committed, "It COULD have been You Sam. It SHOULD Have Been You Sam."

"Coulda shoulda, whatever!" she dismissed it angrily.

Sam knew she had to focus on work and getting on with life. If Jack could move on then so could she damn it! With a vengeance Sam threw herself into her job and worked herself to exhaustion. But no matter how hard she tried to forget, Jack kept creeping into her thoughts late at night in the darkness. Was he screwing Jill? Had he made her over in her image and pretended it was Sam or had he embraced his new partner and found another to kill for. It was disturbing and Sam was disgusted with herself. Disgusted for caring, disgusted that she felt envy because a faceless woman had taken her place in the affections of her phantom lover.

When Coop popped into her life again, Sam initially felt thrilled. Jack was occupied and she could pick up again with Coop. For a couple days it had been really nice and Jack didn't figure into the equation. But then little things about Nick started to grate on her. She had tried to take him to a foreign film again, Italian this time. Again he interrupted repeatedly and tried to grope her, it had been kind of sexy the first time, but now she just felt irritated. As she tried to ignore her rising anger and to focus on the film, two thoughts crossed her mind. She wished she could take all of Coop's damn gum and shove it down his throat and watch him choke on it. And she imagined Jack beside, giving her a few sensual nuzzles, encouraging her effort in whispered Italian, loving and lethal all at once.

Samantha felt desperate as she tried to focus on anything and everything but Jack. But nothing seemed to work for more than a few moments. Every situation, she found herself wondering how Jack would have felt or reacted. Over time when someone would do something that wasn't quite right, Sam readily imagined Jack handling the same situation perfectly. She could imagine him laughing if he knew how far into her subconscious he had gotten now that he had moved on. Even though it meant death, Samantha longed for a message from Jack. She missed him so much at one point she bought a bouquet of roses and a bag of cheetos to try to feel closer to him.

The day Jack had Jill kill Coop had been the final nail in the coffin so to speak. When Coop was killed, Sam cried and cried. All the VCTF thought it was grief. But it wasn't. Her tears were initially of joy and gratitude because she finally knew for certain that Jack still loved her, then her tears of happiness became sobs of guilt because she felt so happy over her lover's death. It was easy to mope after Coop's death, not because she cared but because she felt so guilty that she didn't care. It was as if someone had held up a mirror for the first time ever and shone Samantha her true self. She knew Jack had held the mirror up for her, just as she did for him. Somehow that thought managed to be extremely comforting and extremely disturbing all at once.

As Christmas approached, Sam found herself wondering if and how Jack observed the holiday. Visions of rose strewn trees and gift wrapped body parts pushed their way into her dreams the same as they did every Christmas but this year they were a comfort rather than a disturbance. Each time Sam went Christmas shopping, her eyes would wander to the men's department. Once at the mall, she went into Wilson's Leather and allowed her hands to caress a pair of buttery soft black leather gloves. Without thinking she picked them up and walked to the register, then panicked and left as she realized she'd nearly bought a gift for her stalker.

Inside the office supply closet, Sam forced herself to regain composure. Jack was wounded and needed her at her best and Samantha wouldn't let him down. Taking her cell phone out of her purse, Samantha called home and left a message for Angel. Squaring her shoulders she walked into the command center. The sickening photo of the van's interior replaced with the bloody interior of a stolen police car and Grace was announcing that there was infection in the tests she'd run on Jack's blood. Sam knew she couldn't let emotion get the best of her, Jack was all that mattered. Bailey began to push Sam to go to her reunion.

"No," Samantha told him coldly.

"Sam, there's nothing you can do. Go to your party."

"Bailey. I just shot a man-"

"You shot Jack, that's hardly-"

Samantha cut him off, "Who I shot has nothing to do with this. I am going to take a few days off of work, but I'm not going to the reunion. The last thing I feel like doing is smiling and catching up with people who are no longer involved in my life."

"Sam-"

"Look Bailey," Samantha forced herself to smile as she spoke. "I know you're concerned about me and for once I am too. More than anything in the world, I want to go to a quiet hotel, order roomservice and soak until I prune. Please Bail, I don't feel like going back to the reunion or dealing with anything or anybody."

Then laughingly Samantha continued, "Bubbles, pizza and the lifetime movie network have restorative value that men don't understand."

Bailey wasn't thrilled, but he couldn't exactly object either. For once Jack wasn't a problem and with her daughter and best friend gone, he could scarcely fault Sam for wanting a little privacy for a change. Hesitantly he agreed, then felt confidant in his decision as Sam rewarded him with a dazzling smile and began to rattle off some spa treatments she was going to sign up for in the morning. With Jack on the run and Sam so happy it looked like it was going to be a very Merry Christmas.

The minute Samantha was safely out of the building and in her SUV her smile dropped as she began to focus on the situation. Where would Jack go in his current state? He was too smart to go to the hospital, so likely he'd gone home. Problem was, where did Jack call home? As she pulled out of the VCTF parking garage and stopped at a stop sign, Samantha tried to think. Jill! Jill had been bad, acting without permission and Jack had been angry. That meant she was too scared to return and had no where to go. A smile crossed her lips and she pulled into a gas station to fill her tank up, it could be a long night. Inside the station Samantha added caffeine pills, a large hot coffee, two packs of Marlboros, and a lighter to her gas purchase.

Lighting up as she sped down the road, she coughed for a moment as the smoke jarred her lungs, then the acrid burn of the smoke warmed her pleasantly. Balancing her cigarette with her steering had, Samantha pushed a few pills out of the blister pack and chased them down with coffee. Jill on the run. What did that mean? An image passed through her mind of the dark wig in the trash and a dog trying to follow patrons into a bar. Shit, all this time profiling Jack and now she needed to profile his pet and fast.

Samantha started babbling aloud as she tried to reason out Jill. "Think of the stupid bitch like a dog. What is the real difference between a pet and a person? Money! Pets don't have money. Jack's bitch wouldn't have money, he wouldn't allow it."

Pleased with her progress, Samantha smiled to herself and continued to prattle. "If an animal is desperate it will seek food and shelter almost anywhere. So Jilly bitch would try to find a mark that was easy. Possibly intoxicated. A bar seems a likely place. She only has the clothes on her back so without something classy or slutty, she would search out a real dive."

At that, Samantha accelerated and dodged traffic racing back to the area where Jack had been shot. It wasn't the worst area of Atlanta, but if Jill was on foot she wouldn't be able to go too far. Start with the seediest bars near the market and fan out. She only hoped Jill hadn't managed to steal money or transportation yet. Jack's pet needed a lesson in obedience. Samantha parked two blocks from the market in front of a sleazy looking pool hall illuminated with neon beer signs. Getting out of her SUV she began her search.

"Damn it!" Samantha swore as she stormed out of the sixth bar in a row. Each bar she scanned the crowd and went into the ladies room to search, each time hoping and each time being disappointed. It was after midnight and the bars would close in a little under two hours. Jack was always there for her, she finally understood that and tonight she needed to be there for him. Sam got back in her vehicle and drove a little further down the street. Despair threatened to overwhelm her when she spotted a thin blonde looking around her furtively before going into the smoky glass entrance of a bar. Instinctively, Samantha knew this was Jack's pet. As she got out of her car, the flashing sign of a 24 hour pawn shop beside the bar distracted her momentarily and gave her an idea. She opened her purse and pulled out her sunglasses, then she pulled her scarf over her head and twisted the ends under her chin to add to her disguise.

Samantha walked into the pawn shop and quickly scanned the cases. There was a long shining knife that caught her eye that had a sheath with it that could be attached to a belt. She reached for her purse and then stopped herself. Jack wouldn't use a credit card for a purchase like this and she shouldn't either. The light caught her rings and she knew just what to do. Tearing off her rings, Samantha placed them on the counter and began her transaction. There was a certain poetry to the idea of selling Tom's rings for Jack. Even though money didn't change hands, the man needed her name and address.

"Jill Smith," she lied and then gave the address of the Atlanta courthouse. Smiling as she walked out, Samantha paused to place her new purchase on back of her belt, well hidden under her coat. Then she walked to the bar and walked in confidently. She knew what to do with Jill, but Samantha wasn't quite sure how to go about it. How to get Jill in cuffs and out of the bar? She grabbed her FBI ID and put it in the inside breast pocket of her coat.

When Sam walked in, she saw her prey bent over a drink at the bar, trying to flirt with a burly bearded man. The bar was working class and just a toe over the line of respectability, the men worked hard, liked their drinks strong, and women straight forward. Her quarry was so caught up in her efforts that she didn't see Samantha stalking her. Sam reached into her purse an removed her cuffs, wordlessly she slid her purse onto the bar at the opposite end. The bartender came over and she silently flashed her badge. Samantha left her purse under the watch of the confused bartender and walked towards Jill's turned back.

Samantha grabbed Jill and slammed her hard against the bar. Stunned from the surprise and intensity of the attack, she didn't resist as Samantha hand cuffed her tightly. Everyone stared as the one blonde was handcuffed by the other.

"Hey!" the burly man that had been chatting Jill up protested.

"I'm with the FBI and this woman is my prisoner."

"Let me go!" Jill began to struggle and protest as she became fully alert again.

"You heard her," the man menaced and stood up.

"Her?" Samantha feigned surprise as she patted her down and pocketed her razor knife. "Jill here isn't a woman, Jill's a transvestite hooker who's wanted on a variety of drug and assault charges."

"Transvestite? Jill? But she said her name was Sh-Sharon-" he stammered desperately.

"Jill, Sharon, our boy here has dozens of aliases. Almost good enough to pass until you get naked and well-" Samantha lied glibly. Then she flashed her ID to the man, covering her last name as she spoke. "If you're worried about our friend here we can get the boys in blue down here and they can verify that I'm Agent Samantha Trades and that Jill here is a wanted felon. Of course they'll have to take your statement and you'll have to testify at the trial. But if you don't mind your buddies knowing you're into shemales-"

"Screw that! Lady I don't need that kind of shit!" the man yelled in embarrassment and stormed out of the bar.

Without any further protest beyond Jill's caterwauling, Samantha collected her purse and forced her prisoner out to her vehicle. When they reached the passenger side door, Jill tried to break loose, but Samantha had anticipated the predictable attempt and hit her hard on the back of the head with the butt of her gun. Efficiently, Sam forced her unconscious prisoner in and drove into a dark alley. Under cover of darkness, Samantha quickly bound the sleeping lump and pushed it into the back seat. She threw a blanket on top of her and drove to an industrial park that would be quiet this time of night.

Jill was still out when Samantha stopped her SUV, quickly she got out and liberated a heavy black tarp that flapped careless over a pallet of crates. She tore the blanket off her prisoner and carefully pulled the tarp underneath the unconscious woman. Samantha coldly studied her prisoner as she made certain the tarp was fully covering her vehicle's floor. The last thing Jack would approve of would be sloppy trace evidence lurking about. Jack, please, please be all right, she chanted in a silent prayer. A moan told Samantha her prisoner was waking up.

"Well look who's awake, Jill. Or is it really Sharon?" Samantha asked removing the gag.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?! You crazy bitch-" she screamed struggling against the ropes.

"Wrong answer," Sam said with a smile as she reached into her coat to the knife at the back of her skirt. Brandishing the blade, she continued, "Jack should have house broken his pet better. Now is your name Sharon? Tell me or I start cutting."

"What the hell are you doing you're a fucking Fed!"

A cruel smile twisted across Sam's mouth as she pushed the blade through the fabric of Jill's jeans and lightly nicked her right outer thigh. It wasn't a deep cut, but it succeeded in getting her point across.

"Now one more time," Samantha informed her in a sugary sweet voice. "What is your name?"

"Sharon. Sharon Lesher, Agent TRADES!" she spat angrily. "He's gonna kill you for this!"

"We both know better. Don't we Sharon?" Samantha asked and continued before her prisoner could answer. "Sharon, I don't know if Jack ever mentioned it to you, but I have a fair amount of medical training. For example, I could slowly eviscerate you and keep you alive for days, even weeks if I chose to."

Sharon shuddered visibly with fear. Jack had hundreds of photos of this woman, but not in a single one had her eyes had this maniacal gleam. The cold calculation reminded her a little of her mentor and Sharon found herself wishing she'd never left the house tonight. She didn't know exactly what was going to happen, but she had a feeling it wasn't going to be good. Time and again Jack had talked about how this woman was his mirror, that they were the same. Always Sharon had laughingly dismissed Dr. Goodie Two Shoes as being nothing like Jack; but now she wasn't so sure. The full significance of her calling herself Agent Trades was beginning to sink in.

"Sharon, where is Jack's lair?"

"If I tell you he'll kill me," she pleaded in earnest.

"That maybe, but I'll kill you right now if you don't tell me."

After getting an address from Sharon, Samantha stuffed the gag back in her mouth and covered her with the blanket. As Sam drove she lit another cigarette and informed her prisoner a moment later when she knew she could smell it that if she'd lied about the address that she would extinguish her cigarette in Sharon's eye socket. Muffled moans and some teary sniffles came from under the blanket. Stealthily, the SUV prowled the Atlanta streets toward Jack's lair.

As Samantha pulled up to the building, she paused. This was where the pressure was really on. This was the time and place where there was the greatest possibility for a mistake. If this was Jack's lair, she needed to enter cautiously and if it wasn't she was an FBI agent who had a woman tied up in her back seat with a stab wound. Pulling the blanket off and the gag out of Sharon's mouth, Samantha demanded to know which floor Jack occupied. After Sharon answered, Sam gagged her again and covered her face again. Carefully, she stepped out and began to slowly circle the building studying the fifth floor intently.

Jack owned the building according to Sharon and had dummy leases for tax purposes for each apartment. She said he only used the top floor as far as she'd ever seen. From the outside, Samantha couldn't tell if it was Jack's lair or not. Then she spotted at the back of the building a generous greenhouse that shone with grow lights. There was a lot of green and it looked like quite a bit of red, his rose garden she decided with a smile. Then opened the back door of the SUV. Looking around cautiously, she drug Sharon out and to her feet.

"I'm going to take the gag out, but if you scream, I'll carve out your kidneys before you take another breath. Understood?" Samantha demanded. When Sharon nodded, she removed the gag and demanded, "Where's your key and which entrance?"

Too afraid to lie, Sharon directed her to the key in her left back pocket and told her which door it opened. Cautiously Samantha, pulled her toward the door and unlocked it. Then she forced Sharon inside. Jack might have traps set in case of unexpected company so Sharon would need to go first and would have to be able to walk.

"I'm going to untie your ankles and legs up to the knee, then you're going to walk ahead of me up the stairs. If you try to run or kick me, I will shoot your kneecaps." Samantha informed her, flashing her gun at Sharon.

Though every instinct she had screamed flee, Sharon numbly complied. Painfully and awkwardly she made her way up the four flights to Jack's lair. She couldn't decide if she hoped he was there or not. She was worried about him and knew he was angry, but his precious Samantha was scaring the hell out of her. Her Grandmother used to say something about better the devil you know than the devil you don't. Maybe Jack would forgive her if he saw his stupid Samantha was with her.

It was a long and arduous trip up the stairs as Jill hobbled patheticly and Samantha followed cautiously behind her. By the time they reached the top of the stairs and were just outside Jack's lair, Samantha was ready to scream. She was frantic with worry about Jack and Sharon was really trying her patience with her whining ascention. After this was all over and Jack was well again, they were going to have a very long talk about Jill and what the hell he'd been thinking. Samantha in her annoyance with Sharon found even greater respect for Jack that he'd managed to restrain himself from killing his noxious pet.

"Now Sharon, is there anything special I need to know about entering?" Samantha demanded, rubbing the barell of the gun against Sharon's neck.

"On my key ring, the key with the rose sticker on it unlocks the door. When we get inside, there is a code that has to be punched into the security system or the entire building blows up."

"What's the code Sharon?" Samantha prompted her hostage.

"5225 star 263 star 72626842 star 872337 enter" Sharon answered.

"God it must have taken forever for you to remember that. You're hardly the brightest crayon in the box," Samantha replied. She opened her purse and pulled out her cell phone and studied it for a moment.

"Calling someone?" Sharon needled petulantly.

"Just checking something," Sam answered, then returned her phone to her purse and began to search for the rose stickered key.

"How do you know I'm not lying?"

"Simple logic Sharon. There were no ones or zeros in the security code you gave me. On a phone's keypad there are letter values for digits two through nine. The numbers you gave if you count the stars as spaces would spell out Jack and Samantha Trades."

As the full impact of what Samantha said pentrated Sharon's mind, she began to turn pale. Jack had said time and again her genius matched his; but Sharon had always ignored the comment. She couldn't imagine anyone being even half as smart as Jack. Hell she couldn't understand the names of some of the topics he was versed in, let alone begin to explain them. In the past year, Sharon never once realized the number she punched in to enter meant anything and now his precious Samantha found a message in a bunch of numbers in under 5 minutes. This wasn't good. Jack had said a lot of things about this woman and if the rest of what he said came to pass, Sharon was in a lot of trouble.