Author's note: I know it really took a long-long time and I'm sorry for it. Maybe I shouldn't start it this way: two different stories in one but it happened and I dug a very deep hole for myself. When I know what to do with one of them I'm stuck with the other one and vice verse. I can't say that this chapter is full of action, but I hope you'll like it. So, read and enjoy and don't forget to tell me what you mean!

Where the lines meet

Chapter 2.

"Yes, I see... is there any sign?"

John only heard the end of Bailey's phone-call but he knew from his expression that something was wrong.

"Thank you detective." And he hang up.

"What happened?"

"Richard Manahan died last night. The police-officer who watched him was also killed."

"So Carnagie found him."

"Obviously. The man was hurt quite badly before he died. Carnagie wanted to get out of him where his daughter lives."

"We should tell it to her."

"You don't have to…" the female voice was almost inaudiable.

John turned and found Chris standing in the doorway. She was pale as ashes but was keeping herself together.

"We should take you away from here" John said suddenly. "This is too dangerous…" he turned to Bailey.

The elder man was clearly considering the options. John knew of course that using Chris as a bait was probably their best chance but still… he didn't want the girl to be hurt, not in the slightest way.

Bailey just opened his mouth to tell something when Chris cut in:

"No" her voice was amazingly steady, almost harsh. "I won't run away, not this time! You said you were professionals so let's do it!"

Then she turned and rushed out of the room. John looked at Bailey.

"Do you think this is a clever idea?"

"Don't know, but she agrees and this is our best chance…"

John knew that he couldn't hide his disapproval but this time he didn't really mind it. However, as he was in minority he could do nothing.

He walked out the backdoor and found their host there. She was sitting on the stairs and first he thought that she was just staring at the wood, but then he saw that her shoulders were shaking. First he thought that he would go back inside but instead he sat down next to her.

She turned to him, her eyes were red and her face soaked in tears but she made no sound at all. The pain in her eyes moved something in John and he touched the girl's shoulder gently. She welcomed the support and in the next moment John found her in his arms and he held her strongly for at least ten minutes while she was crying heavily.

After a while the tears lessened and Chris pulled away.

"I'm sorry… I'm not this hysteric normally…"

"I guess you don't receive such news every day" John said quietly.

She shrugged.

"He was my only friend…" Chris whispered then. "And it was my fault…"

"No, it wasn't" John said firmly.

Oh, yes, it is! He died because he knew where I live..."

"Chris!" he squeezed her hand to make her listen because she was clearly starting to drive herself into desperation. "There are things you can't change. You didn't want this to happen! You couldn't know that your father would escape one day and you can't live your life in constant vigilance."

Chris looked up and smiled slightly which was a strange expression on her tearstrained face.

"Did you read this in a self-help-book?" she asked quietly.

"I heard this from an old friend actually."

"And why did you need this advice?"

John didn't usually talk about this – or to be honest, he never talked about this – but he didn't want to see Chris go upset again.

"I was quite down after my mother died" he said simply.

"I'm sorry."

"It happened a long time ago."

"Richard was a good man, the nicest man I've ever met. He never judged me, he was the first person who accepted me the way I am..." she wiped her face in her shirt. "Oh, God... I hope he didn't suffer too much..." she whispered.

In that moment Bailey stepped out of the house and they both looked up.

"I'm sorry..." he said and John could see that he felt a little bit uncomfortable. "I have to go into the town. George sends over some files, I'll be back before sunset."

John nodded and stood up, but his hand was still on Chris' shoulder.

"Shouldn't we both stay here, sir?" he asked surprised.

"Carnagie can't arrive here before tomorrow evening. Everything will be all right" he added looking at Chris.

"Yeah, sure..." she mumbled and turned back to watch the forest.

John just shrugged.

"Anyway, be careful!" Bailey added and his younger companion nodded.

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

Bailey heard how John tried to calm the girl and he knew that probably he will manage to do it. He was good with this things, he always had some good advice when people felt down – Bailey wished that the younger man would listen to his own advices.

Not for the first time he started to wonder about Agent Grant. He found out that the man was rather complicated despite the casual masquarade he usually tried to show to the outside world. He noted this already at the first occasion they worked together.

It was a complicated case but they had a really good start. Then though everything went downhill soon...

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

"Yes, I see, M'am!... I hope too!... Could we visit you?... Thank you very much!"

Nathan put down the telephone, looked for Bailey, and found him with Grace in the laboratory.

"Hey, boss, I guess that press-conference of yours had some success! A woman has just called: she says that she saw her neighbour going home with an axe-like thing and with a bag. I told her that we would go out to interview her."

"We should go immediately. This is the best we've had so far. Call Detective Grant, as well!"

They took a car and drove to the adress the woman gave Nathan.

"So, what did you see precisely, Mrs. Dexter?" Bailey asked after he introduced his workmates.

"Mr. Felon, my neighbour was always strange. You know, he never took part in the things we do togehter. And this house has a good community, we spend a lot of time together, doing barbecues and such. But back to the topic, he comes home quite late at night... You know, I come home late from work and I met him a few times. The last time though he didn't even nod at me. And he looked very disheveled... he had strange stains on his shirt and her was this package with him. I couldn't decide what it was that time but when I saw you on TV... I suddenly realized that it really looked like an axe."

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Yes, quite..."

"And what did those stains looked like?" asked Nathan.

"Those were brownish, like rust."

Nathan looked at Bailey and knew that he thought the same. It might be blood, as well.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dexter. Can you tell us in which flat this Mr. Felon lives?"

"In flat number 12 on this floor. Will you arrest him now?"

"First we'd like to talk with him. There might be some intirely innocent explanation."

"Yes, I see..."

"Thank you, again, Mrs. Dexter."

They said their good-byes and made their way to the flat referred.

Bailey went and knocked on the door. They could hear that somebody was moving inside. But the door didn't open up.

"Mr. Felon, here's the FBI. Please, open the door!"

Mr. Felon didn't answer, instead they heard a rattling sound as if a window were broken in.

They looked at each-other and without saying word John turned and rushed down the stairs while Nathan stepped back to break down the door. It needed just a hard kick and they were in the flat, they could see the back of a man who was hurrying down the fire-stairs.

"Let's go!" ordered Bailey and they both followed him.

The mand was in a good condition and was down on the street in a moment. They could see as he vanished around the corner, just in the same moment Detective Grant burst out on the front door.

"He ran to the right!" Bailey shouted down without stopping and John took up the pursuit.

Nathan and Bailey jumped down and joined the run. They could see their suspect running in zigzag, amongst the many by-passers. John got a little bit closer to him but not close enough to manage to tackle him down. Baliey and Nathan were much further and Nathan soon realized that Bailey was slowly dropping back.

"What's this guy, a long-distance runner?" Nathan commented under his nose breahting heavily.

This Tom Felon was fast. Very fast and he knew the area better than the agents. They jumped over three fences, ran through a park where Nathan almost collided with a biker and then Felon jumped into a tunnel. Nathan soon realized that he wasn't fast enough to keep up the pace, but Grant was. He ran lighly and gracefully. Nathan envied him for that at the moment.

But in front of the tunnel John stopped and Nathan caught up with him there.

"Do you think it's a clever idea to go in there after him?" the young detective asked.

"Do you have any better idea?"

He shrugged, took out his gun and stepped inside. Nathan wasn't sure about it but followed. It wasn't really nice in there... and this was the understatement of the year. It was wet and dirty and crud was dropping even from the ceiling. They heard Felon moving further and John started to run again.

It wasn't an easy task in the dirty water that came up almost to their knees. It didn't take long until Nathan dropped behind again. A few moments later though he heard a splash, then shouting and the noise of wrestling. He increased his speed and after a turn he found Felon and John in a heap in the even more dirty water. He wanted to intervene when Grant punched Felon, turned down of him and hauled him up to his feet.

"Are you okay?" Nathan asked his temporary partner while the detective handcuffed their suspect.

"Yeah, sure. I'm only smelling like a cesspool."

"It's not that bad."

"You say this only because you are smelling just as bad" John answered eith a broad grin. Nathan grinned back and then said:

"Let's take in this sprinter!'

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

Grace was in the command centre when Nathan walked in with Detective Grant and she had to stare at them in shock. Nathan was dirty all over but the younger man looked even worse. He was soaking wet and was covered in some slimy material.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked.

"We followed a suspect" came the casual reply from Nathan.

"Where?"

"I don't think you want to know it!"

"The smell doesn't lie" Bailey cut in smiling. He's just walked in the room clean and fine. "They took a trip into the drain-system. It was a nice job, gentlemen. I let your man be taken into an interrogation room downstairs. I asked an agent to clean him up before we start."

"If you don't mind I would like to take a shower as well" put in John who's been quiet so far.

"Of course. Go to the 6th floor, there's a gym for the agents."

"Thanks."

"I wanted thank you, actually!" Bailey said. "Without your help we would probably still running around."

The detective smiled slightly and maybe even blushed a little bit.

"You're a fast runner!" Nathan said tapping his shoulder. "But you were right, you really smell like a cesspool."

"You are not much better, either" Grace said in the defense of the young detective.

"I at least didn't bath in the slop water."

"I have to admit that you're right" John said. "So, if you excuse me, I'll go and look for that shower."

"Wait, I'll go with you" Nathan said and they left together.

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

Grace was needed at the interrogation room as well, so after a good ten minutes she walked down there. Not as if she could do much, but they only started to create their methods and Bailey wanted to know everybody's opinion. So, she walked down to the first floor where the rooms could be found. Actually, every interrogation room had two parts: one that was the actual interrogation room where the suspect was held and questioned and an other one from where others could observe the act. Grace had the role of the observator every time, but this time she had a companion, as well.

Detective Grant joined her a few minutes later, freshly showered and however he was wearing the same trousers, he changed his shirt into a quite worn-out-looking T-shirt. When Grace looked at it he smiled apologitically.

"I had this one in my car. I always have some spare-clothes whith me. I learned it during my time on the streets" he added.

"You worked as a patrol?"

"Yes, during the college and university. Your clothes often don't survive the shift there. I was vomited over so often that I can't even count!"

Grace grimaced.

"I can't say that I envy that!"

"Actually, it was a very instructive period of my life."

"I can imagine that!"

He looked at her with a smile.

"Can you?"

"No, not really" Grace admitted. "And I'm not sure I want to."

His smile became broader.

"I thought so. People usually aren't interested in the disgusting details."

"Yeah, I guess. How long have you been doing this?" she asked.

"You mean bathing in the slop water?"

"No, I mean being a cop."

"I joined when I was 19."

"That young? What did your parents said to that?"

This wasn't the wisest question as Grace instantly realized. His face closed off from one second to the other and he shrugged.

"They didn't say anything" he said quietly.

The arrival of the suspect saved Grace from the akward silence, Bailey and Nathan soon stepped into the interrogation room, as well. Nathan leaned against the wall behind the suspect while Bailey sat down on the edge of the table.

"So, Mr. Felon, tell me why you run away?"

The man watched his own hands instead of the agent.

"I thought you were a burglar."

"I shouted a warning that we were from the FBI."

"I didn't hear you..."

"Didn't I shout loud enough? What do you think Agent Brubaker?"

"I think even a deaf could have heard it!"

Felon shrugged uneasily.

"Never mind, Mr. Felon. Let's talk about something else! What did you do last Tuesday?"

"I worked. And after it? Do you remember what time did you arrive home?"

"I don't really know. At about ten..."

"Wasn't it rather after midnight?"

He shrugged again.

"I see. Mrs. Dexter, your neighbour said that he met you on the corridor at half past twelve."

"Then it was surely so..."

"She also told that you had something with you. A strange-looking package."

"Those were my gadgets..."

"Your gadgets?"

"I work as a handyman."

"Do you often cut woods?"

The man visibly tensed and his hands started to shake. Then shook his head mutely.

"So then why did you need an axe?" Nathan asked from behind and the man flinched.

"I don't have an axe..."

"So you don't know about the murders?"

"What murders?" he stuttered and he was sweating badly.

"Three men who were killed with an axe. The murderer drugged them, tied them up, waited until they woke up and then first they cut down their hands at the wrist and then their head" Bailey said harshly. "I speak about these murders!"

"Do you think... that I committed something... like this?"

"This is exactly what I think, Mr. Felon! Do you have anything to say about it?"

Felon shook his head again. It was strange to see such a tall and muscular man being so confused and frightened.

"Think about it Mr. Felon. You should be maybe a little bit more cooperative... We come back in a few minutes."

They left the room and a second later they came into the observation room.

"He needs a little more time. He's weak" Nathan commented when he closed the door.

"Maybe, or maybe he didn't do it."

"May I speak, sir?" John asked suddenly.

"Of course, detective. What do you think?"

"I think he knows who did it... I mean he behaved quite strange when you mentioned the axe..."

"Yes, you're right. Actually I thought the same. It might be a close relative. Could you check this while we try to soften him a little bit?"

"Of course, sir. I'll do it."

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

John stopped in the open door and watched Chris who was typing on her notebook frantically. He had to admit that he was mesmerized by her. She was beautiful, more so than any other woman he's ever met. He knew that she probably wanted to be alone but he couldn't take his eyes off of her. As she concentrated a small wrinkle appeared on her forehead that made her even more cute. Then she suddenly looked up and their eyes met.

"Hi, I didn't realize you were here" she said.

She was much more controlled than a few hours ago. After Bailey left they sat on the porch for a while but the silence became awkward after a while and John decided to check the area and Chris said she would write a little bit.

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb."

"Never mind! I already wanted to stop and make something for lunch."

"Nothing important… I have a plan for a novel but I'll probably never finish it."

"What would it be about. Your book, I mean…"

"It's about… me, in a way. I started in a long time ago, when my therapist advised to write down what happened with me. But it's not that good and I'm not that talented. I usually write scripts for B-category TV-series."

"You surely write better than me! Maybe you could help me with my reports…" he joked.

"I would probably make up a total new story instead of the facts. Your boss wouldn't be happy with it, I guess."

"He's never happy with me, anyway…"

"And why is that?"

"No idea. Probably I don't try hard enough."

"I bet you do… I don't know many FBI agents but you have to be good if you were sent after my father. And you're definitely better than our sheriff" she added with a lopsided smile. "He's sixty-seven, by the way."

"Thank you, very much" he grinned back.

Meanwhile Chris stood up and walked over to John.

"What do you think about a chicken-salad?"

"Sounds good."

They walked down to the kitchen and prepared the lunch together. Max watched them with huge eyes during the whole time. In the end Chris couldn't stand it longer took out his bowl and gave him a good portion of the chicken.

"He always does this and I always give in in the end."

"He has his methods, hasn't he?" John looked at the dog and stoked its massive head.

"He really likes you" Chris noted. "Usually he doesn't like strangers. I think it means that you are absolutely trustworthy."

They ate in silence but it was really cosy. Taking as how they were waiting for a psychopath to arrive here, it was almost absurd, but somehow still natural.

"How long have you been an FBI agent?" Chris asked.

"Only five months. You could call me a rookie. But I'd been a detective before that."

"And why did you want to be a cop?"

"I don't really know. It simply happened, but I really think it's meantfor me. You know my father was… still is what you would probably call a typical gangster… I guess first I just wanted to anger him…"

"Does he know about it?"

John shrugged.

"I know it sounds childish but I sent him a picture of my dedication ceremony, you know a lot of uniforms and everything."

Chris smiled at him.

"I think I can understand why you did that."

"I could imagine his face, for a moment I was so satisfied, you know. But then… the feeling soon went away and I…" he trailed off. This was really something he has never talked about.

"You felt empty…"

"Yes, I think." He looked at him surprised.

"You can do nothing against it… Or, at least I still didn't find a way to… I don't know… get revenge, or what? You know I visited my father in the prison… once. I wanted to see for myself that he's really closed in. The guards led him in, I just looked at him and I know that he wanted to tell something but I didn't listen… I just stood up and walked out on him. In that moment it was a good feeling that I could control the situation."

"And later?"

"I went back to my hotel-room and got drunk. I have never been so sick in my life."

"We have really talent in ruining the good mood, haven't we?"

"Yes, I think so" she smiled slightly and stood up. "I'll do the dishes."

"I'll help."

"No, you're my guest after all."

So John stayed sitting and just watched his host. She was wearing a simply T-shirt and jeans but she still looked marvellous and John noted not for the first time how gracefully she moved.

"I can't understand how somebody could want to hurt you…" he said quietly. Then he almost bit down on his tongue. He didn't want to tell this loudly but it somehow slipped out.

She turned around rather slowly as if she wanted to get some time to think about what to say.

"Was this a compliment?" she asked at last with a serious expression.

"I'm sorry…" he mumbled and stood up. "I didn't want to… I better leave you alone…"

He really wanted to leave but the kitchen wasn't very big and he couldn't possibly get out without going very close to Chris. For a moment they stood there face to face then John still made an attempt to evade the woman.

"No…" she spoke at last. "You did nothing wrong, really… you don't have to go…"

John realized that she was also mumbling and even blushed. Which – to tell the truth – made her only more attractive.

"It's just… that I don't get compliments so often…"

"Why? Are the men blind here, or what?" he asked.

Maybe if he took it loosely he could still get out of it nicely. It wasn't right to speak like this to somebody they had to protect. And it was definitely not right to feel like this about her.

"I don't meet many men here."

John didn't really remembered later what happened next. Just that in the next moment they were very close to each-other. He could feel the warmness of her body and he knew that he shouldn't do this… That it really wasn't right… It was against every rule, but still… He kissed her. And she kissed back. And he knew that they would not stop there, he saw it in her eyes.

It was a long kiss and when they parted Chris let her head rest on his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

"Can I be?" she asked back but then added. "But this might be my last day… Come."

She took his hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom.

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