(Thanks to demonchilde!)

LOVE'S FUNCTION IS TO FABRICATE UNKNOWNNESS

As she'd promised Angel, Sam went to bed immediately after the phone call, but her mind was in overdrive. She tossed, turned and fretted in her bed until five am, and was none the wiser for it. A few times she almost walked up to Bailey's room to hash this thing out with him there and then. The fact that Bailey was sharing a room was the only thing that stopped her. So, she listened to the soft sounds a sleeping Grace was making, and cursed everything from her inability to fall asleep to her peculiar impulse that had led her to kiss Bail in the first place.

In the wee hours of the early morning, she came to a conclusion as far as what had caused the kissing. Satisfied that she'd gotten at least one thing straight in her mind, she felt like she could leave the others open for the time being. After all, there were a few issues which would only be solved by seeing her best friend again.

Sam had slept three and a half hours when she grew cognizant of Grace shaking her shoulder in an attemp to awaken her.

"Sam, it's eight thirty. Are you gonna come down for breakfast?"

Sam blinked her bleary eyes, struggling to make sense of Grace's words. She breathed heavily and made an incoherent grunt.

Grace took Sam's drowsiness in stride. "Are you a little hungover?"

Sam assessed her state silently. She wasn't hungover, but it wouldn't do any harm to let Grace think so. It would save her the trouble of evading her friend's questions about her exhaustion.

"Maybe. Go have breakfast, I'll be fine," she muttered, pre-empting Grace's offer of painkillers. She rolled over onto her right side and drew the blanket over her head. Grace took that as her cue to leave and enjoy the continental breakfast at the hotel restaurant.

John and Marcus were regaling George and Grace with their tales of the poker game they'd played the night before. Marcus had turned out to be quite the card player; he'd walked off with most of the pot. The game had finished at three thirty.

Bailey spied the foursome when he walked into the restaurant. He frowned, wondering why Sam wasn't at the table with the others. He made a beeline to the coffee machine and took coffee to go. He and Sam would need to leave and see Renick in half an hour. Before that, he wanted to go over the MacGruder files one more time.

After some internal debate, he also grabbed an apple from the fruit plates. His normal breakfast consisted of only coffee; he would eat a sandwich at the task force after two hours of work. Armed with his breakfast on the go, he approached his employees.

"Morning," he wished and all four turned their heads to greet him with their own salutations.

"Morning, Bailey. Did you sleep okay?" John asked.

"Well enough," he replied, angling for a tone that sounded even remotely cheerful. The truth was, he hadn't had the best night. He'd been so busy puzzling out the turn of events between him and Sam that sleep had eluded him for hours. Finally, pure exhaustion had had its way and he'd fallen into a restless sleep.

"How was the poker game?"

John looked remarkably glum, while Marcus flashed a pleased grin. "It was alright, man."

"He took me to the cleaners, and most of the others, too," John amended his partner's reply.

Bailey gave his friend a commiserating smile before turning to Grace. "Where's Sam? Isn't she up yet?"

Grace shrugged. "I tried to wake her up, but she wouldn't budge. I think she's a little worse for wear."

Bailey felt a little pang in his heart. Had she really drunk that much last night? What kind of a schmuck was he, having taken advantage of her inebriated state?

He then realised that now wasn't the time to beat himself up. In front of his friends, with the meeting with Renick fast approaching.

"Are you heading up now? Sam needs to get up soon. She wanted to go buy something for Chloe before the ftx," he made up on the fly, then congratulated himself for having landed on a plausible reason for his worry.

"Sure, I'm finished, but you'd better come with me. She didn't pay any heed to my beckoning," Grace informed him.

They headed to the room in silence. Bailey took a few sips of his coffee, bracing himself for seeing Sam again. All of a sudden, he was very aware of each sound, sight and feeling. Like the apple that weighed heavy in his pocket. The ding of the elevator when it reached their storey. The rushing of his blood in his veins.

Grace entered the room, peering around and listening if the shower was running. "Sam?" Grace spotted her friend still in bed, but calling her name didn't have any impact whatsoever.

"Come on in," she remarked to Bailey, then walked over to the window and drew the curtains.

Bailey walked to stand at the foot of Sam's bed. "Sam?" he said gently.

Sam threw off her blanket and shot up in the bed, like an electric current had just passed through her. She gazed at Bail, a little confused as to why he was in her room. "Hey," she croaked, then ran her hands through her hair, a little self-conscious of her appearance.

She looked tired, but even sleep-deprived, she looked beautiful. "Hey," he countered her greeting before continuing: "We have to hurry. If we're going to go shopping for Chloe," he added, hoping that Sam would catch onto the real reason.

She blinked, wondering at his meaning before understanding hit. "Right. Um, give me fifteen minutes?" She would have time for the bare essentials: shower, sorting out her hair and getting dressed.

"Okay. I'll wait downstairs. Bye, Grace." With those words, he was out of their room. Sam sprang into action, cursing her sleepiness that morning.

Fifteen minutes later she stepped into the elevator, putting her bag on the floor while she tied her hair into a loose ponytail. That was the best she could do. She hadn't even put on any make-up. She rummaged her bag and found a lip balm, which she soothed on her parched lips. She felt the rumblings of an empty stomach. Breakfast would have to wait until the meeting was over.

She rushed into the lobby, looking around for Bailey before she spotted him already outside, waiting in front of a taxi. Once outside, she noticed that he was holding a doggy bag that looked quite heavy. As she walked up to him, he reached out and offered the bag to her.

"What's this?" she asked, taking the doggy bag.

"Breakfast. I got you apple juice, bagel, chocolate bar and coffee."

"Oh." She was touched by his gesture. She took a look inside the bag. "There's an apple here, too."

"Oh, sorry. That's for me." A little smile fleeted on his face.

Her stomach lurched a little, a fact she attributed to her hunger. "Well, thank you," she mumbled, giving him a grateful look.

"Don't mention it. Let's get going." Ever the gentleman, he stepped beside the taxi and opened the backseat door for her. He waited for her to climb inside, then shut the door and walked around the taxi to sit next tot Sam.

The ride to the field office was quiet. Sam focused on eating the food Bail had been considerate enough to get for her. She started her breakfast by eating the chocolate bar first. She was oblivious to Bailey's amusement, as he turned his head to stare out of the window to hide his smile. He stepped in when Sam was juggling her bagel and apple juice, snatching the juice container out of her hands without ceremony, freeing Sam to eat the savoury snack in peace.

Bailey had gotten a good selection: the chocolate bar was one of her favorites, she prefered apple juice and the bagel was just cream cheese and tomatoes, another favorite of hers. She decided to pay him back in some way. Before that, though, they'd have to clear the air. Discuss last night's events. She tried to calm down her nerves.

Sam took a sip of her coffee and let her eyes sweep Renick's office. The office was cluttered, but there seemed to be a method to the madness, judging from the ease with which Renick produced all sorts of documents related to the matter at hand.

Wes Renick had been the liaison agent to the CPD for three years now. He would keep tabs on both FBI and local police department investigations on Henegar. He was a thin man of short stature, with pointy features and thick glasses. His hair was auburn, rendering his presence with the uncanny impression of a fox.

"Let's see, James Quentin Henegar," Renick intoned, immersing himself in the files. "Five disciplinary review board hearings, which didn't lead to any suspensions or charges. You suspected that Henegar shot judge Neal MacGruder in cold blood," Renick muttered.

"There was no suspicion. We know it for a fact," Bailey interjected. "It's all there in the file, along with Agent Waters' profile of Henegar."

"Yes. You'll have to excuse me, but I did some digging and discovered that the MacGruder case was the first one you oversaw after you came back from sick leave, Agent Malone," Renick prodded.

Even without looking at Bailey, Sam knew that he was stunned. She shared his sentiment. She couldn't begin to fathom why Bailey's close call would be significant.

"How is that relevant?" Bailey asked tersely.

"Is it possible that you're just on an ill-advised manhunt that lacks a solid foundation?"

Sam laid her hand on Bailey's arm in a calming gesture and spoke up before Bailey would explode. "No, it isn't. If you don't believe us or you mistrust my profile, feel free to ask for a second opinion from your field office. I believe the Chicago branch staffs four profilers," Sam bit out.

Bailey managed to stay civil in his response: "Read the CPD's internal affairs report on Henegar, then get back to us," Bailey stood up abruptly.

"Agent Malone, there is no need for that. I just wanted to know your motivations for suggesting that the Bureau open a file on the cop," Renick appeased the both of them and waited in silence until Bailey sat back down.

"Well, the situation has changed since your last trip. The disciplinary review board has one new member. In addition, the new district attorney was sworn in February. FaithMorgan campaigned on, among other topics, getting rid of police department corruption. She is very serious about the issue. So serious, in fact, that she's increased funding for the internal affairs division."

Bailey knew all of this, and he was getting impatient to hear if actual progress had been made. "And? What's been happening with the case?"

"Internal affairs has a cop working undercover to weed out the corrupt officers. Rest assured that Henegar is one of the key targets. It just takes time," Renick stated matter-of-factly. The two Atlanta-based agents looked somewhat disheartened at the lack of progress, but ultimately seemed to take it in stride. After offering their help in devising a plan to catch Henegar, they thanked him profusely and took their leave.

Renick stayed in his office for a while, musing on the encounter. So they were the famous Bailey Malone, one of the first graduates of the behavioural science unit, and his protege Sam Waters, who herself had a serial killer on her tail. The psychopath known as Jack of All Trades.

After stowing the Henegar files back into the middle of one pile of papers, Renick closed up shop and left to enjoy the rest of his Sunday.

Sam glanced at Bailey, trying to assess his mood. She knew that he was disappointed in the results of the investigation into Henegar. He stared morosely at the floor of the elevator, apparently unwilling to open up for the time being. She checked the time. It was half past ten.

Bailey ran over the meeting in his head, cursing on the inside. He'd been hoping against hope that the i. a. would have something substantial on Henegar already.

"So, what should we do?" Sam blew out a breath.

He tensed a little, wondering if she was talking about the kissing incident. "About?"

She looked at him curiously. "Your little white lie to Grace? About my wanting to buy a present for Chloe?" He relaxed a little, then paused to consider the little mess he'd landed them in. No department store would be open this early. Why hadn't he thought of that before he'd made up their ruse?

Then, he had a brain wave. "The zoo? It's close, and it should be open at this hour."

It figured that he'd come up with a plan on the fly, and one that Chloe would love, to boot. "Let's go," she flashed a smile at him.

On the taxi ride to the Lincold Park Zoo, both Sam and Bailey fretted the visit, sensing that this might be the best chance they'd get all day to go over what had transpired between them last night.

Once in the shop, Sam browsed the shelves of soft toys on display, trying to remember what animals her daughter already had in her plentiful collection. She figured on approaching the topic consuming her mind after she'd found a passable gift.

Bailey trailed behind her, looking at the toys, but not really seeing them. He was too busy trying to find a segue that would launch their conversation. He observed her obliquely. She looked a little tired, and her whole demeanour was a bit more muted than usual.

He caught up to her at the toy giraffes. Sam was checking the price on a baby giraffe. "You feeling okay? Now?" He wasn't really looking at her when he asked the question.

"Yeah, I am. Why did you ask?"

"I meant, how's your hangover?"

Did he really think she was hungover? More to the point, why was he asking that? "No, I'm not hungover." She caught an impenetrable look on his face, and she froze, guessing that he'd attributed the kissing to her drunken state.

"Listen, Bail, about last night," she began tentatively and noticed that he, in turn, froze from apprehension. "I'm sorry about it. I'm not sure what brought on it, really," she tried to explain.

"I'm sorry about it, too," he jumped in.

She was still on her own train of thought. "I didn't have that much to drink. That wasn't why I... Why we..."

"No, of course not."

Sam bit the bullet. "Okay, look. The fact is, it was bound to happen. Sooner or later. I mean, there's always been this... this attraction between us. Right?" She needed to know that he agreed on everything, and especially on the last bit.

He'd been silent during Sam's rambling sentence, both curious and anxious about what she was going to say. He himself had arrived at the same conclusions, and he hastened to concur. "You're right. I think we just had to get it out of our systems."

She shot him a fleeting glance. "And you did?"

He nodded quickly. "And you?"

"Yeah, I did," she furrowed her brow, wondering why they were suddenly finding it hard to look at one another.

"So we don't need to dwell on it anymore."

"Absolutely," she nodded her head vehemently, considered the baby giraffe toy in her hands and cleared her throat. "I'm gonna get this for Chloe. We saw giraffes at the zoo in Atlanta, so she'll love it for sure."

Bailey took a deep breath and frowned, his mental facilities still too sleepy to understand the announcement blaring on the plane. He tried to raise his left hand to rub his face and shake off the doldrums, but he felt nothing where his arm should be. He jerked his head straight and looked to the left. Then, he saw what he'd been leaning his head against, and what was also blocking off his circulation.

The offending factor was Sam's head. Once again, she was sleeping and resting her head on his shoulder. Only she wasn't sleeping anymore. She, too, had been roused awake by the announcement.

Sam blinked her eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling a familiar scent. Old Spice. Bailey. She connected the two instantly, then noticed something curious going on with Bailey's hands. He was rubbing his left arm with his right hand. She realised that she'd again been using him as her upright pillow. She jerked away to sit squarely on her own seat by the window.

"Sorry, did your arm go dead?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

"It's fine, it'll come back." He was now free to shake some blood into his arm. Now, if only the arm itself would obey a simple command. No such luck.

She observed his frustrated expression and guessed its cause. "Let me," she remarked and grabbed his arm with both of her hands, giving the limp limb a light massage. He focused on sensing his dead extremity.

Before long, the blood started circulating, and the prickling sensation of the restored blood flow needled his whole arm. "Ah, hell," he couldn't help muttering.

She stopped her massage instantly, scared that she'd somehow hurt him. "What?"

"No, not that. The blood's coming back and it prickles," he muttered, staring at his arm like he couldn't believe it wasn't being stabbed with a thousand tiny needles.

She resumed her massage to his surprise. "You don't need to do that now."

"It'll help. Trust me," she uttered in a determined tone. He had to admit that the tactile contact did alleviate the prickling. She moved slowly her hands down his arm, finally reaching his hand and concentrating her efforts on his palm. Which she worked on for a while, so long infact, that he had to call her name. "Sam?"

She snapped to from her zone, wondering herself where she'd gone. She turned her eyes to his face and saw a slightly inquisitive look in his eyes. "It's all better now. Thanks."

"My pleasure. My fault, after all," she quipped, trying to get over the awkwardness that was between them even though they'd cleared the air earlier on. She gave him a small smile, then began gazing out of the window, willing herself to stay awake for the rest of the flight. She was sure she'd rested her head on the wall when she'd closed her eyes to sleep. She must have changed her position drastically while asleep. What worried her, though, that the action had been unconscious.

Sam opened the elevator door to find her daughter and her roommate standing in wait in the living room of their house.

"Hey, welcome home!" Angel's happy greeting rang out.

"Mommy, you're back!" Chloe flew into her mother's arms.

"Good to be back, sweetie. I missed you terribly and I was only gone one day!" Sam pressed kisses into her daughter's hair.

Chloe frowned as she took in the empty elevator. "Didn't Uncle Bailey want to come up?"

"No, he didn't give me a lift, John did. But Bailey did help me pick out something for you." Sam saw Angel give her a knowing smile. Sam hid from it by rummaging her bag for Chloe's souvenir.

"Here you go," Sam handed the toy to Chloe to the little girl's delighted squeals.

"I love it! Look, Angel, I got a baby giraffe."

"I see it, honey. It's very nice."

"I'm gonna go play with it. It needs a name!" The excited girl ran to her room, attracting Denzel's attention in the process. The dog jogged after Chloe to see what all her excitement was about.

Angel was throwing on her coat. "Where are you going?" Sam had been looking forward to unburdening her thoughts with her friend.

"I'm off to John's for a couple of hours. I'll be back before nine. I'd better dash before Denzel notices me heading downstairs."

"Should I walk him?"

"Thanks, but you don't have to, I'll do it when I get back. In the mean time, if you don't have anything to do, you could always call Bailey, pick up where you two left off last night," Angel teased her. Sam shot her friend a scathing stare, who thought nothing of it.

"Now, later on, I expect a full account of everything. Especially the smooches, so get to thinking about them," Angel wiggled her eye brows in a suggestive manner. Sam rolled her eyes to cover her blushing.

Bailey entered his house through the garage door. He could instantly hear Frannie laughing to her heart's content. She was watching something on the tv, but she noticed him advancing in the kitchen.

"Hey Dad, welcome home," she shot up from the sofa to greet him.

"Hi, Frannie. Did everything go okay while I was gone?"

She shook her head in amused disbelief. "You were gone for only one day, and does it look like I burned the house down? " Her dad smiled at her question, but something in his face looked out of place. He seemed a little distracted.

"So, how was Chicago?"

He shrugged. "It was fine. The hotel was nice, the workshops were useful and the food was good."

"And what about fun? Did you have a good time?"

His mind immediately jumped to moments with Sam. Her joke on the plane. His fetching coffee for her. The hornet killing mission. The dancing. The... He stopped that train of thought forcefully, annoyed at himself. Hadn't he just hours ago agreed with Sam not to dwell on it anymore? "Yes. Uh, have you eaten?" Better to change the subject altogether.

"I made some pasta and blue cheese sauce. Are you hungry? I could warm up a plate for you."

"I'd like that. Thank you. I'm gonna go unpack." He withdrew to his room, threw the bag on the bed and strode to the window. He stared out into the dimming light of day and took a few deep breaths.

Their goodbye at the airport parking lot had been marred by an unease that wasn't like them. He didn't think the others had noticed their awkward parting, but he'd felt it strongly. Any other time, they would have hugged and maybe even kissed one another on the cheek. That would have been normal for them. He wondered how Sam had taken it. Had she realized it?

The fact was, in spite of their well-intentioned agreement, the events of last night had been more or less on his mind all day. Just as he'd start to relax subconsciously, the knowledge, the memory, the experience would creep out of the corners of his brain and he'd be reminded of it. He didn't seem capable of going ten minutes without a thought, however fleeting, bombarding his mind.

It was just... there. Forever on the outskirts. Like a damn loop.

The sweet small clumsy feet of April came into the ragged meadow of my soul.

A stanza from a poem he'd read a long time ago floated to him. Maybe by e. e. cummings? Sam still had his book.

In a way, he welcomed her two-week vacation from the job. A fortnight should be more than enough time to get over this... preoccupation.

He heard his daughter beckoning him from the kitchen. He abandoned his musings for the time being.

He should try to look up the poem.

Sam was shoving some laundry into the dryer when she heard Denzel bark softly once. She paused her task and heard Angel shushing her dog sternly. She put on the dryer before making her way to the living room. Denzel had retreated to his usual place beside the elevator, having divined that his mistress wouldn't take him out straight away.

Angel had sut down on the sofa, thrown on a blanket and arranged herself into a good position. When she spotted her friend, she made a beckoning gesture and rubbed her hands together in a show of excitement.

"C'mon, Sam, time to spill. You know you want to," she taunted.

Sam made a disapproving face. "I'm starting to doubt if I want to."

"Damn, I forgot the popcorn," Angel sighed dramatically.

"I can't believe how much fun you're having at my expense!" Sam flopped down on the couch, shaking her head.

"Please, just let me enjoy this. This is the most fun I've had in a year."

"What about John?"

"That's totally different. This is girl dish fun. But okay, I'll dial it back. So?" Angel invited Sam to share.

"So," Sam repeated the word, not sure where to start.

It looked like Angel would have to do all the leg work. "So did you two talk about the kisses?" she opened bluntly.

"We did, at the zoo shop," Sam remarked in a breezy enough tone.

"And?" Angel prodded.

"We agreed that it was bound to happen at one point, and that we'd gotten it out of our systems. No danger of it happening again." Sam stared straight ahead, unconsciously biting her lip.

"Seriously?" Angel let her disbelief shine through in her reply.

"Yes!" Sam shot her an annoyed look.

"That was the extent of your conversation?"

"Uh huh." Sam nodded her head forcefully.

"Okay... Let me process that a while." Angel had been entertaining the hope that this incident would knock some sense into the couple, but it seemed like both Sam and Bailey were only too happy to be completely oblivious and in denial.

She would try another tack. "What happened before? What led you to kiss him in the first place?"

"Oh, well, he'd been teaching me the steps to the bossa nova, which I finally aced. He called me Kid again, and I messed with him a little, made him believe that I somehow resented it. He looked totally baffled, at which point I took it back and kissed him on the side of the mouth. And then..." Sam trailed off, hoping that Angel would get the picture.

"Sam..." Angel sighed heavily.

"Yeah?" Sam was irritated.

The artist leveled a sober stare at her friend. "Are you sure, really sure, that there isn't more to this than meets the eye?"

"Yes," Sam answered resolutely.

"Okay." Angel had her doubts, but knew it would be futile to voice them. It would just antagonise Sam. "So, what else did you get up to in the Windy City?"

Sam relaxed a little when the conversation landed on safer ground. She was a little surprised that Angel hadn't pressed for more details, but it was a neglect on Angel's part that she was all too happy to overlook. Even after the discussion at the zoo shop, her thoughts had been pretty much consumed by the incident – which was what she was calling it in her head – and she was in desperate need of a respite. So, she happily recounted what had happened at the workshops, how the hotel room had been, what had transpired at the ftx.

She just left out a few details. Like leaning her head on his shoulder whilst sleeping, there and back. Getting Bailey's help with the hornet intruder. Feeling almost pleased at his reaction to the sight of her underwear. Almost drifting away whilst massaging his palm. Feeling vaguely deflated by their goodbye.

Things Angel might take the wrong way. Things of no consequence, really.

Anyway, she had two weeks' time to get her head on straight. Two weeks to shake off these... feelings.

Plenty of time.