(Ahem. Yes, I'm back. Trying to kick my muses back into gear again. I have every intention of finishing this trilogy. Sorry for the super long wait.)

DAYBREAK KNOWS ALL MY SECRETS

Sam made it back to the task force before Bailey returned. She kept to her office, mulling over the events of the day. Two strikes for them: Lesher's relocation, and Jack's letter. Regarding the former, Bailey had promised to contact the pertinent parties to arrange a meeting as soon as possible. He'd left for the doctor's before he could tell her what had come of those attempts.

She'd resolved to see him as soon as he came back. After that, she would head out and try to find some even keel, even for a little while. She was getting weary under her burden.

Unawares, she'd turned around to face Bailey's office whilst sitting down. Before she could reprimand herself, she spied the man turn the corner to his office. She stared at him for a moment, gathering her nerve to speak to him face to face.

She felt guilty about seeking Wykoff's help, and about obstructing justice by withholding evidence. But, she had more pressing matters to fret over.

She was worried sick that Bailey was already a marked man. That Jack might kill her friend whenever he pleased. She wondered if she had any right to keep the message secret from Bailey. She probably didn't.

She remembered how angry she'd been with him when he'd kept Jack's resumed activity from her before they'd set up the task force. Oh, how the tables had turned, she mused, and swallowed a bitter chuckle about to escape her lips.

But, she told herself that it was only for a few days. Only until she knew what she would do, how she could keep Bail safe.

The note was still in her bag. She fished out the offending item and locked it away in the bottom drawer. She wouldn't dream of taking it home with her. That would be giving Jack too much power over her.

She might as well call it a day. She packed her things and started to head on out, deciding to catch up with Bail on her way.

She entered his office without knocking. "Hey, how was the appointment?"

He shot her a passing smile. "It was fine. I got a clean bill of health."

"That's good. Any word from..?"

"I left a message for Helms, and the warden promised to get back to me when he got the chance."

Sam nodded her head, and allowed herself to really look at Bailey, who was busying himself with menial tasks, preparing to call it a night, too.

She marvelled at the fact that he'd survived the shooting, by an inch of his life. Someone had been looking out for him that day. For her, too. She couldn't imagine her life without him.

"Sam?"

Bailey was looking at her in askance. She shrugged with a tiny smile, and said goodbye. "Nothing. Good night, Bailey. Give my love to Frances."

"And you give mine to Chlo. Bye, Sam." She turned on her heels, and just at the door, she lingered for a beat in his office. She fought, and conquered for the time being, the urge to never let him out of her sight. She finally exited his office with one final look at him.

She was terrified that Jack would kill Bailey out of the blue. But, Jack's first concern would be Lesher. He had to tie up that loose end before he'd make any advances regarding his twisted fantasy life.

So, she kept the letter to herself. And she prayed that when all was said and done, Bailey would forgive her.

Chloe opened the inner elevator door, and greeted John cheerfully. "Hi, Uncle John."

"Hey, girly," John greeted her, and scooped her up for a brief hug.

"Angel, Uncle John is here!" John put the girl down on the floor, and waited for the sounds of his girlfriend heading their way. He paled a bit when he witnessed a happy Denzel running to greet him. Chloe snorted as John patted Denzel awkwardly on the head.

John sighed in relief when Angel turned the corner from the kitchen to greet him. Unsure of how to proceed with the little girl in their presence, they settled for pecks on the cheek. Then, Chloe grabbed John by the hand, and dragged him to the sofa where she'd been watching Sesame Street. Angel offered to make coffee, and John took her up on her offer. He watched the kids' program a few minutes, working out his exit strategy. Then, he muttered: "I've already seen this one, I'll be right back." He wanted to greet Angel properly, so he left Chloe to her show.

Angel smiled when she spied him making his escape. "Not of a fan, huh?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"I like Sesame Street fine. Just wanted to say hi." They shared a quick kiss.

"Hi," Angel quirked one corner of her lips. "So, anything you wanna do tonight?"

"Nah, let's just stay in."

"You sure you don't want me take you to the nearest Porsche dealer? Let you do some window shopping for guys?" she waggled her brows.

"Do not tease, woman," John practically growled. "That was a near death experience for me."

"What was?"

"Marcus shot up my car when we were trying to catch Lesher." His lips curled a little at the memory. Luckily, it was water under the bridges, now.

Angel's jaw was wide open out of shock. "And he lived to tell the tale?"

"Luckily, Bailey made the Bureau chip in. The damage was done in the line of duty, and all." Angel chuckled, then shook her head affectionately. She knew how much John loved the car he was leasing.

John kept mum on how his co-worked was driving him up the wall at the moment. His thoughts turned to his colleague who shared a roof with Angel. "Where's Sam, by the way? I saw her gathering her stuff when I was leaving."

"She's buying the groceries for the weekend." The coffee was ready, and John got up to serve both of them.

John wasn't usually the one to gossip, but he thought what he'd seen in his boss' office earlier might provide amusement to Angel, so he decided to spill. "Speaking of Sam..." He laid the mugs on the kitchen table, and waited for Angel's interest to pique. Her eager look was all he needed.

"We got some bad news today. Lesher's been moved to Fort Leavenworth, without anyone letting us know."

Angel looked confused at the start of his story, and then slumped in her chair at the end. "Shit. That's bad, isn't it?"

"Doesn't make things easier, that's for sure. Koslowsky was the one to tell us, and while Bailey looked like he was ready to kill the messenger, Sam looked like she was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss Bailey blind," he finished with a chuckle. Angel looked intrigued, to say the least.

"I was surprised she didn't jump him right then and there. And, now I feel slightly uncomfortable, picturing that." John wrinkled his nose at the thought, making Angel laugh.

When she'd recovered, she wondered if she could share the events of Chicago with him. Her decision was detained, as Chloe, curious about Angel's burst of laughter, entered the kitchen.

"What's so funny?"

"John just made a funny face," Angel covered for their little bit of adult fun. "Is Sesame Street over already?"

"Uh huh. You wanna play a board game?" Chloe asked John, her eyes shining at the prospect of having a new person to play with.

"Actually, Chlo, I was thinking of planning a birthday party for Sam. It's only a few weeks away. We could have a bigger bash than we normally do. Invite Uncle Bailey, Auntie Grace and everyone," Angel announced, derailing the conversation a little.

"Oh, yes!" Chloe bounced up and down happily. "We can have balloons and confetti and..."

"Why not?" John encouraged Chloe, much to Angel's chagrin.

"We'll see about the confetti, but a party we shall have, definitely," Angel nodded resolutely, making herself a mental note of blackmailing John into cleaning up duty, were they to decorate with the sparkly papers.

The elevator whirred into action, and the three of them made hushed promises to resume this talk at a later date. Angel got up to greet Sam, leaving Chloe behind to resume her pleas to John for a game.

"Hey. You took a long time," Angel remarked to Sam, as she took some plastic bags off of her friend. They headed to the kitchen to unload the bags as soon as may be.

"Traffic was slow, you know," Sam responded to her friend, then noticed her co-worker, sitting at the table. "Oh, hi John." Chloe ran from her room, holding a board game box in her hands. "Hey, baby girl. Also, there was a mad rush at the grocery store. Is there a holiday coming up that I'm unaware of?"

"Your birthday!" Chloe chirped brightly, causing her co-conspirators draw a quick breath, fearing that the girl would blurt out what they'd just discussed.

"That's hardly a holiday that everyone celebrates, sweetie," Sam remarked with a smile before turning around to walk to her room to leave her stuff there. That gave Angel the time she needed to signal to Chloe to remain tight-lipped about their plans.

"Let's play in the living room!" Chloe announced before she dashed off to set up the game. Sam returned to the kitchen to put the groceries away. She was oblivious to a little smile from Angel, who was thinking of what John had told her. Maybe the party would nudge her stubborn friend and her beau-to-be in the right direction.

On Monday, John was forced to take a deep breath first thing, when he walked up to his desk at work to find his paper files in disorderly piles. He ground his teeth, looked around for the co-worker who was the most likely culprit, and finding him nowhere, he decided that there was no such thing as too early a time for a cup of strong black tea.

When he returned to his post in the main pen of the task force, Marcus was sitting at his desk, poring over some file.

"Morning," John greeted his friend, trying to rise above his irritation at Marcus' lax ways.

"Morning, John." Marcus barely acknowledged his presence. That riled up John just enough to remark: "Find what what you were looking for?"

"Find what where?" Marcus was still engrossed in the file open in front of him.

"On my desk. This pile of files right here," John elaborated as Marcus looked up, a confused expression on his face.

"I haven't touched anything on your desk, man," Marcus defended himself from the unvoiced accusation. His eyebrows shot up at John's disbelieving scoff. Marcus leaned back in his chair, clearly ready to hash this thing out. "Fine. How about this? I refrain from messing up your OCD piles, and you refrain from organizing my stuff."

Now, John looked stupendous. "First, it isn't OCD, I just like my life organized. Second, I haven't laid a finger on your things."

Marcus shook his head, not buying a thing from John's retort. "Yeah, 'cos there's a tiny invisible person here who just loves arranging shit into neat piles. Oh wait, no, that'd be you."

John glared at his friend across their joint desks, when Bailey sauntered up to them. He blew into his coffee mug, and took in his agents.

"What's going on?" Bailey asked, all innocence, while taking a surreptitious look at Sam's office. Sure enough, she was watching on, and at his glance, she made a move to be present for the grand reveal.

Hearing no reply from his underlings, he continued: "By any chance, have you started messing with one another passive-aggressively, disheveling or organizing stuff?" That earned him surprised looks from both men.

"Or, have you previously pranked a colleague with a degree in profiling and psychology?" Bailey remarked innocently as he looked pointedly at Sam's office. The woman in question was walking towards them, a mischievious look on her face.

"Don't mind me, I'm just getting my award. No need for subterfuge any longer." She looked at both John and Marcus, who were staring at her, dumbfounded by her devious plan. She grabbed her trophy, and glanced at Bailey, who looked to be enjoying the hell of this spectacle. With a "you delight me" smile. She really needed to stop naming those.

John and Marcus watched on in silence as Sam flounced off with a skip to her step. Bailey smiled at them, and then left them to stew over the surprise. They shared an uncertain look, then shrugged, and shook hands. They'd been totally outplayed. Something to talk about over a beer.

From the privacy of her office, Sam watched on as her victims made nice and shook hands. She might just have a knack for this sort of thing.

Well, as nice as it had been to mess a little with her co-workers, she had to own up to the fact that ever since Bailey had figured out her plan, there had been a change in her focus. It hadn't really been about the payback as much as it had been about exploring a new side to her, one that she estimated would surprise and delight herself as well as Bailey. That's why she'd let Bailey in on her attempt, to begin with.

She was sorry that it had come to an end. On the other hand, now she would have one less thing on her mind that involved Bailey. That had to count for something.

A few hours later, Bailey had called a meeting in the command center. "As you all know by now, we've been dealt a setback in Jack's case. Lesher has been transferred to Fort Leavenworth, where we'll have much less access to her, to say nothing of the control we'll have over her safety. Luckily, the techs at CPD are wrapping up the do-over on the citations and offenses records. Georgie, you want to bring us up to speed?"

George nodded, and started typing furiously. "According to my estimates, now 97 per cent of first-time offenders have been entered into the database. I have matched them with cops who could have been hard to reach for Jack. That gives us, in total, 159 suspects in Illinois and other states, and 29 cops."

"I take it that these numbers are predicated on the assumption that the newly-compiled database is not missing any citations," Sam jumped in.

"Yeah, that's correct," George confirmed.

"As Sam alluded to, the database may very well be missing suspects. This is why we need to contact the cops themselves, and grill them about the citations they gave during that weekend, to see if any have fallen through the cracks," Bailey pointed out.

"So, when will we start chasing down leads?" Marcus enquired.

"Next week. Sam has already sent a memo to agents in other states laying out how to behave when they approach suspects, what they're looking for, how to make a clean escape if they get a bad feeling. The VCTF will get fresh reports from every agent about each encounter. George will compile them for our perusal. This remaining week, we will take a closer look at the suspects in Georgia, and devise a strategy for them."

"What about the cops?" John asked.

"We'll begin to contact them next week, too," Bailey informed his agents. "Any questions?" He waited a beat before disbanding the meeting. "Sam?" he called out to his friend, making her stay behind. "Maybe now would be a good time to go meet Wykoff?"

Sam had a brief moment of panic at the thought of Bailey and Wykoff conversing, owing to what had transpired the last time she'd seen the psychic without Bailey's knowledge. She managed to cover her turmoil by fumbling with her case files. "Um, okay. I'll call Megan and set up the time. See you a bit," she took off to make good on her promise, and to formulate a plan as to how keep her visit, and Jack's note, a secret for some time longer.

When she reached her office, she shut the door for privacy, placed the files on her desk, and stared at the phone for a moment. She wouldn't be able to talk to Wykoff over the phone; his reclusive tendencies prevented that. And, she couldn't share what she needed to get across to Wykoff with Megan. She would just have to talk to Wykoff for a minute alone, before Bailey joined them. Her plan now formulated, she pushed aside the wave of repulsion at her continued deception, and made the call.

The next day, Sam thanked her lucky stars when Bailey's phone rang just as they were pulling up to Wykoff's house. Sam made a swift exit out of the car, leaving behind a befuddled Bailey, and all bu sprinted to the front door. Sam rang the door bell, tapping her foot, and surreptitiously checking where Bailey was. He was still on the phone. She should have enough time to ask Elliot not to mention her visit from last week.

To Sam's surprise, Megan answered the door. The CIA operative showed her in, and remarked that Elliot was at the far end of the house, painting. Sam thanked the woman, and headed in the direction Megan indicated.

She bolted through the halls, keen on not wasting precious time. She found Elliot in a cluttered room at the end of the hallway. There were paints, brushes, half-finished paintings all over the floor and the tables. Sam recognised the subject of most of the paintings. Diane, his deceased wife.

"Elliot?" she said gently, not wishing to startle the man. He turned away from his work in front of the window, and smiled at her. "Hello, Sam." She nodded her greeting.

Mindful that Bailey might join them at any time, she pressed on immediately. "If it's alright with you, let's keep my visit from the previous week between us. Okay?"

He looked at her in surprise, but acquiesced to her passionate plea. "Alright, but I..."

She heard footsteps and interrupted him with a look of apology. "I see you're looking well."

Elliot's puzzlement grew stronger, but he pushed it aside. Something was wrong with his friend, and she didn't want to draw attention to it. He would respect her wishes.

Bailey entered the room, and looked pleased to see the psychic. "How have you been, Elliot? Have you settled in alright?"

"Thank you, I've managed to make myself comfortable. Thank you, and your mysterious friend, for the arrangements," Elliot smiled affably.

"It was our pleasure," Bailey played off Elliot's sincere thanks.

"How are you feeling? You are still getting the palliative treatment, aren't you?" Sam asked, concerned about the man's well-being.

"Yes, I am. A nurse from the Sanders Institute comes in twice a week to check up on me. Megan is vigilant, about my safety, and about my pills and injections."

"Good." Sam was mollified. She'd been watching the fragile man carefully, afraid that his handling of Jack's note might have done irrevocable damage. So far, that didn't seem to be the case.

Megan appeared in the doorway. "I'm making some coffee for myself. Would you care for some, too, agents?"

Elliot looked mortified, then smiled ruefully. "This is what happens when your host is a recluse."

Sam brushed off his apology with a quick word, while Bailey took Megan up on her offer, speaking for the both of them. Megan nodded, and walked away without another word.

Bailey asked for permission to look at the paintings strewn about the room, and the three of them spent some time examining the works of art.

Before long, they were seated at a kitchen table, Sam and Bailey sipping their coffee, while Elliot settled for hot water mixed with orange juice. He shrugged his shoulders when he saw Sam's wondering gaze. "It's warm and it tastes good. Can't drink tea or coffee anymore."

Elliot set down his cup, and leveled a sober stare at the agents. "So, when will I begin?"

Sam flashed him a look of gratitude before shifting her gaze to Bailey, who went on to answer him: "That depends: would you rather work with fresh or old... mementoes?"

"Fresh mementoes would help you more, surely?" Elliot countered, never betraying that he suspected he'd handled such an item last week.

Bailey grimaced. "Jack has been laying low for a while. He made a mistake, and he's been trying to cover it up. And, he's got to be planning to kill his accomplice."

"Well, when he makes his move, you know where I am," Elliot said steadily. Satisfied to learn that the male agent truly intended to use his insights, he was happy to let the matter lie.

As the agents made a move to leave, Elliot pulled Sam aside, and remarked to Bailey: "If you don't mind, I have something to ask of your friend."

"Of course, not. Take all the time you need."

Elliot had put two and two together during the agents' visit. Sam didn't want her friend to know of her first visit, because she was hiding the mad man's note from him. Elliot had to say something, out of worry for both of them.

"You shouldn't keep things from him." He said with a nod at Bailey, who was walking away from them. "It'll only end up hurting him, and I can see that it's already hurting you."

Sam had been about to thank Elliot for keeping quiet on her previous visit, but his words left her stunned. She should have guessed that he would realize the reason. His words had her swallowing a gulp in her throat. "I have my reasons, Elliot. Trust me," she muttered. "Take care." She offered him a little, mirthless smile, and walked in Bailey's tracks.

Elliot watched her go with a sense of dread. He couldn't imagine keeping secrets from Diane. A long time ago, just after he'd met her, he'd tried to shield her from his gift. He'd been worried that sharing it would have wrecked her. As it turned ot, he'd underestimated her inner strength. When he'd allowed her in, all the way, he'd realised that it made both of them stronger. The love they had for one another had forged a shield of its own, impenetrable enough to protect them from the ill effects of his gift.

That was why Sam's decision made him uneasy. If she refused to let her friend in, to share her burden, she would be inadvertently harming both of them, all the while believing the exact opposite.

"Sam?" Bailey's call had her stopping in her tracks on her way out. She entered through the open door to his office, staring at him in askance. He'd stood up from the sofa, and gestured to her to sit down on the arm chair.

"What's up?" she asked in a light tone, trying to her best not to let Elliot's words eat away at her. She'd decided that she would ponder them when she was alone at home.

"Just wanted to let you know that Farber and Marino will stand trial, starting next week. District attorney Frank called me just now, as a courtesy."

She sank down deeper in the chair, taking a minute to digest the news. So, finally, the closure on Angel's kidnapping was coming. Bill Porter had already been convicted of kidnapping, and his son Scott Porter had been tried and found guilty of felony murder.

Sam was lost in thought for a while, reliving the events of the night. Finally, she shook it off, and leveled Bail a thankful look. "Okay. I'll let Angel know."

Bailey just nodded. She guessed that he was thinking of the night in question, too. She remembered the terror she'd felt as Angel's fate hung in the balance, and her subsequent relief when they'd found Angel unharmed. She remembered Bailey's quiet, unrelenting support.

She remembered the moment when she'd revealed why and how she had forged her sisterhood with Angel. Bail had listened to her story. Hadn't interrupted her with condolences or questions. He had just... afforded her with the chance to come to terms with what had just happened, the possible magnitude of it. How that night could have shattered her anew. He hadn't jumped in with platitudes or reassurances. He'd just let her feel whatever she did.

Even now, his silence was so easy, and inviting. Inviting her to unburden herself, no expectations, no judgment.

Unburdening her worries on him was one luxury she couldn't afford, right now. Not when they concerned him, the most.

So, she had to leave him to his own devices. "I'm gonna get going." She tried to sound like her normal self. "Bye," she said in a low tone.

"Bye, Sam." Bailey watched her go with worry. He settled into the sofa, running this last moment with his friend. Now, he hadn't expected her to respond to his news with joy and enthusiasm, but her reaction had been far more muted than he'd expected.

Recently, more and more, she was acting out of character, and holding herself back, for a reason he couldn't fathom.

With Chloe safely tucked into bed that night, Sam broached the subject of her friend's ordeal without beating around the bushes. "Angel, Bailey told me today that Marino and Farber's trial will start next week." Sam searched Angel's face for signs of stress or anxiety, and was relieved when she found none.

Angel stayed silent for a beat. "Um, okay," she voiced with an in-drawn breath.

Sam was quick with her follow-up: "Are you truly okay?"

"Yes, I am. I mean, I'm glad this whole thing is coming to an end, finally. But, believe me, I've put this behind me," Angel reassured her friend. Bill Porter had confessed to the charges leveled against him, and so, there hadn't even been a need to testify about the events of the night and day. She'd seen a therapist for a while, to sort out her trauma, and she was grateful that she had.

Angel changed the subject. "I'm gonna fix myself something to eat. Do you want anything?"

Sam shook her head. "No, I'm good, but thanks," she shot a smile at her friend, and watched Angel head over to the kitchen, while she stayed on the sofa.

Sam had never let Angel know that if push had come to shove on the night of the kidnapping, Porter would have killed Angel. Her friend hadn't ever wondered about that in her presence, or asked her point blank. So, she#d let the matter lie, believing that Angel had talked it over with her therapist.

Sam herself hadn't really sought anyone to talk over the incident with. Seeing her best friend safe and sound was all she needed. Besides, she'd had Bailey by her side...

Damn it, everything in her life inevitably involved Bail. She nearly bit the inside of her cheek in protest to her unruly thoughts, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. It was what it was.

She was still wrestling with her innermost feelings about the man, all day, everyday. It was a struggle she was tiring of.

If only she knew what fate had in store for her. If only she...

Sam paused her thoughts, shocked at herself. All this time, she'd been solely thinking of herself, her own feelings, her own future.

What about Bailey? How did he feel about her? How would he respond to her new-found feelings?

She objectively realized that those were things that her subconscious had deemed too dangerous to ponder whilst she wrestled with her feelings, and therefore, she hadn't consciously considered them.

Still, she was ashamed of herself for being so incredibly self-centered that she had only given the object of her growing affection a fleeting thought thus far. Bailey deserved better. She resolved to do better, starting right now.

She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath in, and blew it out, to clear her jumbled thoughts.

How did Bail feel about her?

She knew that he loved her. She knew it right down to her very bones. It was one of the constants of her life, so much so that she realized that she didn't know what she'd do without it.

But, was his love platonic, or romantic?

In many ways, his behaviour around her, towards her, was the same as it had ever been. Incomparable friendship, deep-abiding respect, explicit trust.

Then again, in one way, that perhaps weighed more in the scale of judgment, she knew that he was as attracted to him as she was to him. And, hot damn, he was a great kisser. Even the faintest recollection of their delicious smooches was enough to make her suck her breath in and her toes curl.

Even so, did that attraction amount to romantic interest in her? The trouble was, she had precious little to compare her observations to. When Bailey was still with Janet, and Sam had been present to observe them, their relatioship was already fraying at the edges. She couldn't really compare her experiences with Bailey to that relationship, and to be perfectly honest, she didn't want to, either. She understood Janet, but she couldn't say that she much cared for the woman.

So, the other women in Bailey's life after Janet. She remembered Ellen Behar and Barbara Chapin, and maybe there had been someone before Chapin, a woman she'd never met, personally. The thing was, Bail was very discreet about his... entanglements. He didn't flaunt them at the office, to say the least. The only time Sam had spent any time with any of them had been the night of the Women in Law Enforcement gala, and Ellen had called it off that very night, to boot.

In the end, she didn't have a lot to go on. Maybe she had to trust her gut. And, her gut told her... Maybe? Maybe his feelings for her veered on the romantic. Then again, maybe not. Maybe he'd start dating someone as soon as Frances left for college, the thought of which sent her nails digging into her palms. She knew right then and there that she wouldn't have the stomach to watch him with another woman.

The sound of Denzel's barking low and Angel's shushing her dog broke Sam out of her musings. She sighed deep, ran her hands through her hair, and chewed on her lower lip.

At the end of day, all of this was for nought. No use in trying to figure out Bailey's feelings, whilst hers were still a jumbled mess. And even if she were a hundred per cent sure of her emotions, and knew that Bail reciprocated them, there were other considerations.

One consideration, really.

She couldn't bear to lose Bail. Not after everything.

This was the thought driving her for the time being.

No matter how much she wanted for Bailey to kiss her blind.