TITLE : Compromising Situation

AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)



SPOILERS : Probably

DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.

SUMMARY : Bailey's actions leads to Sam's capture by Jack, and revelations ensue.

NOTES : This is my first Profiler fic, and naturally it's a SBR. Too many damn SJR fics out there, if you ask me. But alas, I'm assuming no one *did* ask me. . . sigh Anywho, criticism is more than welcome! Hopefully, I'll have more Profiler fics on the way.



------------------------------- Compromising Situation -------------------------------

December 23rd -- VCTF, Atlanta

Bailey Malone sat at his desk, studying the last case. His mind kept shifting to a particular blonde woman whom he admired through his window. «Sam . . . » he thought to himself, feeling his pulse thicken everytime his mind wandered in her direction. Oh, how many nights had he dreamt of her. How many days had her beautiful face haunted his every waking thought. But these dreams, these visions were not enough to feed his hunger. He thirsted for her: to taste her lips, her skin . . . to just taste her. «No . . . » Bailey mentally scolded himself. «I'm her boss. I can't expect her to waltz up to my desk, lean seductively on it, and whisper the words 'Bailey, I need you'.» Bailey shook his head.

Just then, Samantha Waters walked into her boss's office - not even bothering to knock. She leaned on his desk, until she was eye to eye with her mentor. "Bail, I need you . . . "

Bailey's eyes immediately focused, he felt his pants grow tight at the groin and his head shot up. "What?"

Sam grinned, and walked over to Bailey's side of the desk, forcing him to quickly cross his legs to conceal his arousal. She leaned down and whispered into his ear. "Aww, was Mr. Grouchy pants disturbed from his afternoon nappy time?" She cooed to him. A snort from Bailey's direction was all she got in response. She gently massaged his shoulders, as Bailey closed his eyes and gently dropped his head. Sam too, closed her eyes, content with the physicality and breathing in his masculine scent. «I can't get too close . . . » she thought sadly. If anything were to happen to Bailey, she could never forgive herself. She had already lost one man she loved. «Tom . . . » And one man she liked a lot. «Coop . . . » But to lose Bailey would be too much to handle. She couldn't afford to lose her best- friend, her mentor . . . the secret love of her life. Her hands kept gently kneading Bailey's strong back and shoulders, and she marveled at the immense amount of strength this man had, but how gentle his soul was. «Definitely a heart of gold.» Sam thought to herself. She always wondered why he never made the effort to find someone after his divorce. Sure, Sam was content that Bailey wasn't seeing anyone, but his happiness was what mattered to her. «I don't get it. He's handsome, has a great body,» she often imagined him without a shirt, where she had the opportunity to feel every muscle in his well-defined chest and back, «he's devoted, treats everyone with respect, kind . . . » Sam knew the list could go on. «Why don't women see what I see?»

"Sam . . . " Bailey's voice was relaxed. "How about you quit profiling, and I'll hire you as my private masseuse?" He joked.

Sam playfully slapped his shoulder, and returned to the other side of the desk, but she let her hand gently glide over his back, down to his arm and parting at his elbow. "As I was saying, I need you to come with me to Canada."

"Why?" Bailey asked, putting away his folders, trying to look busy and not excited at the prospect of spending time with Sam.

"Well, we just received news that there are two serial killers loose, and being Christmas time, no one else volunteered to go. It's just for observation at the moment, though backup is available if we get any leads." Sam sat on the chair. "I know we normally don't work during Christmas . . . correct that, the rest of us, except one person whom I might be able to name!" Sam laughed as Bailey rolled his eyes, muttering 'cheap shot' under his breath. "What I mean is, we normally don't take an international case, especially during Christmas, but I figured we could also use it to . . . " Sam hesitated a little " . . . spend Christmas together." She watched Bailey's reaction, and she could swear that she saw his face light up a little. "I mean, I know Francis is away, and I figured you wouldn't want to be alone . . . " Sam started to babble.

"What about Chloe?" Bailey asked immediately. Sure, it was no big deal for him to leave : Francis was away at college - so he really had no family to spend Christmas with. But Sam, she had Chloe to take care of. Bailey laughed to himself. Hell, he knew he would take care of Chloe in a heartbeat. «I love her almost as if she was my own . . . » He smiled gently.

Sam saw Bailey's distant look again, and yearned to discover what he was thinking of. For some reason, she just couldn't profile him. «Maybe I don't *want* to profile him.» She contemplated, theorizing it to be a mental barrier put up to protect her as well as Bailey. "Well," Sam continued, once again disturbing Bailey's thoughts, "Chloe is spending Christmas with her grand-parents, and I promised I'd be home for New Years." Sam shrugged and sat down. "So, I'm alone." She pointed to herself. "You're alone, as far as you tell me." She pointed to Bailey. She then clasped her hands together. "That leaves us."

Bailey swallowed hard. That simple gesture she did meant so much to him, that he was feeling completely overwhelmed with joy. But he covered up well. «I can't let her know . . . » "What will we be doing there?"

Sam handed him a portfolio. "There are two serial killers, each committing completely different crimes - almost opposites." Sam pointed to two lines of pictures, six pictures in all. "The first preys only on men, brown hair and brown eyes." She looked down at the pictures of the men : All were about six feet tall, a dark-ish complexion and deep brown eyes, though the photos hardly did them justice. "On the other side, three women were murdered."

Bailey looked at the pictures of the women : They were about five feet, seven inches tall, had blonde hair and blue eyes. He sighed aloud. Six people in two days. Three per day. He looked over their stats, realizing immediately a pattern. "Did you see this?" He pointed to the pictures. Sam walked over to Bailey, and leaned over his shoulder. Her hair tickled the side of his neck, and he forced himself to take control of his body.

"They all look the same?" Sam said, finally realizing where Bailey was headed. "And so do all the male victims." Sam pondered for a minute. "Could it be the same killer, but taking on an alter-ego to throw us off?"

"And look at the dates. Two victims, at the same time but in completely different sectors of British Columbia." Bailey looked at Sam expectantly.


Bailey nodded. "On the first day, Jane Wells and Derek Crawll were murdered. Both were shot in the head, right below the left temple. She was 20 and he was 37."

Sam sat on the arm of Bailey's chair. "The second pair, Maura Jones and Randy Mox. She was 30 and he was 47." Sam's brow furrowed as she sensed a deeper pattern was about to surface. "They both died of internal bleeding from wounds to the neck and chest."

"Last but not least, Nancy Weston and Malcolm Toust. 40 and." Bailey paused knowing the answer. "57." He closed the file and rubbed his tired eyes. "Both were hung."

"Something is definitely odd here, Bail." Sam said, reaching over Bailey for the files.

Bailey inhaled deeply; fragments of Sam's scent caressed his nostrils. "When does our plane leave?"

Sam bit her lower lip. "Tonight." She looked at Bailey with puppy dog eyes. "So, are you coming or am I on my own?"

Bailey raised his eyebrow. "Of course I'll be there." He replied softly. Bailey held Sam's gaze for a long time, and after what seemed like an eternity, his cell phone rang. He looked at it, and then back at Sam who was almost out the door.

"Six o'clock, Bail." She said, over her shoulder.

"I'll pick you up at five." Bailey called after her. Finally, he answered his phone. "Malone."

"Hey daddy!" Francis jubilant voice echoed from the other end.

"Sweetheart!" Bailey smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Just to see how you were doing, and to wish you Merry Christmas in advance."

"Thanks love." Bailey smiled. "Be sure to take care of yourself, and if there are any problems, call me, okay?" Bailey's authoritative voice took over.

"Yes sir!" Francis laughed. "I love you!"

"See you soon, honey." Bailey said softly, and hung up. He glanced at his watch. «Three o'clock. Better get ready.» He thought to himself, as he turned the lights off in his office. He walked past his team and bid them a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Hugs went all around, and Bailey headed down to the parking lot. During his drive home, he thought about the upcoming days, and spending time alone with Sam.


December 23rd -- Hartsfield International Airport, Atlanta

Bailey parked his car, and rushed over to the trunk, as Sam was getting out of the passenger side. He checked his car in, and grabbed his duffel bag and shouldered it. As Sam was reaching for her overnight bag, Bailey reached for it at the same time. Sparks flew as their hands touched, and they stared at eachother for a short period. "I'll get it." Bailey said, softly.

Sam smiled, and averted her eyes elsewhere. His coffee-brown eyes was piercing her heart and she had to create some sort of distance between them.

They walked in silence to the gate, and boarded the plane. They were ushered into first class where they both took their seats, sitting down with a sigh. They were both aware of the tension that filled the airplane, and about something not quite being right with the other, but they just couldn't figure out what.

Grace had often laughed about the fact that they were both profilers, yet couldn't decipher eachother. She marveled at the fact that they were aware enough to see a minute detail when it came to crimes, yet were blind enough to overlook the love for one another.

Bailey sighed and leaned his head back. He had made reservations at the Holiday Inn hotel, demanding a joint room. When Sam was out of sight, he asked George to contact one of his friends there, and paid him to install cameras in Sam's room. "She is to be under 100% surveillance." Bailey stated. Being so close to Christmas, and what with the serial killer on the loose, he didn't want to take any chances - especially in jeopardizing Sam's safety.

"Bail?" Sam said, interrupting his thoughts, which had come to be a daily routine.

"Hmm?" Bailey said, his eyes still closed.

"Something's not right in us going to Canada." Sam said, her voice on edge.

With his eyes still closed, Bailey took a hold of Sam's hand and gently kissed it. He turned to her, eyes open and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry kid."

Sam smiled, but looked down quickly. «That's right, I'm just a kid.» She huffed to herself. «Just a kid, a student . . . a friend.» She closed her eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. «Something's still not right, it's not as it seems . . . » Her mind told her.

Bailey looked out the window, thinking of what Sam had just said. "Not right?" He muttered softly. «Not right as in 'us' going?» He asked himself, and then looked at their hands still clasped together. He gently rubbed her hand with his thumb. «Well, she did ask you because everyone else didn't volunteer. Always can count on poor old, loner Bailey.» He shut his eyes forcefully, willing to sleep away the demons and fears that haunted him.


December 23rd -- Vancouver International Airport, British Columbia

The plane landed with a slight jolt, that woke both Sam and Bailey out of a restless sleep. They stepped out into British Columbia's crisp night, and Bailey hailed a taxi. They both got into the taxi with a general uneasy feeling. "Holiday Inn Express, please." Bailey told the driver, who only blew a puff of smoke in response.

Sam rolled down the window, trying to escape from the nauseating smell of cigarettes. Bailey patted Sam on the knee and leaned in. "I think I understand now."

Sam cocked her head to the side. "Understand what?"

"What you said on the plane." Bailey whispered. "Just to let you know," he moved closer to her, "I never doubted your premonitions. I always trust your feelings, Sam."

Sam blushed and gave Bailey's hand a small squeeze. She looked out of the window, watching the Vancouver night-life whiz by. Her eyes glanced towards the rear-view mirror and for a split-second came into eye contact with the driver. He quickly looked away, and sped up a little. She looked at his license that was neatly stuck to the back of his seat. "John Ackmen." She shrugged as she saw the 'Holiday Inn Express' sign come into view.


December 23rd Holiday Inn Express, British Columbia

As both agents stepped out, they glanced at the tall building. Bailey turned around to open the trunk, but found that their bags were already on the sidewalk, and that the taxi had just taken off. "Didn't even pay him." Bailey said while scratching his head. He watched as the car disappeared into the horizon and proceeded to pick up their bags when Sam's arm stopped him.

"Bail." Her voice shook with fear.

Bailey looked at her face, and then directly at her eyes. He followed her gaze that was resting on her bag and gasped inwardly. His head darted back up and looked in the direction that the cab had headed in. He glanced down at Sam's bag, and extracting a tissue from his pocket, he picked up the single red rose that was meticulously tied to the handle. "I'll ship this over to Grace and the gang - see if they can get any fingerprints." He said, as Sam lifted both the bags. "You okay with that?"

Sam nodded, still a little frightened.

They entered the building, past a security guard in charge of the doors. After confirmation that they were indeed guests, they proceeded to their rooms. Bailey had already shipped the evidence to the VCTF in Atlanta when Sam started unpacking a few of her things.

Bailey knocked gently on the adjoining door and then slowly opened it to reveal Sam curled up on her bed. At first, he assumed that she was sleeping, but realized that silent sobs shook her body. He rushed to her side. "Sam. Sam . . . " He tried to calm her down.

"Bailey! It was Jack! He followed us!" She was almost in hysterics, to a point near hyperventilating.

Bailey sat her up and wrapped his arms around her small frame. She pressed herself into him, wanting to feel safe in his hold. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, as tears fell staining his white shirt. Bailey kissed her hair. "Sam, I'll protect you, you know that."

Sam pushed him at arm's length, and rushed to her bag. Bailey watched her with confusion and disappointment. Even though she was hurting, he still enjoyed their closeness. He wanted to comfort her, protect her . . . make love to her. «Stop it, you fool! This isn't the time!» He mentally cursed himself.

"The driver's name." Sam choked out, drying her tears. She opened up her cell phone, and proceeded to dial the VCTF phone number. "Grace, hi! It's Sam." She said, regaining her composure. "The flight was good, thanks." There was a pause. "Slept most of the way." Sam smiled despite her scared state. "Bailey slept too." She took a deep breath. "Listen, I need you to ask George to look up something for me." She nodded, muttering a yes and no. After another pause, she fell silent. She took the opportunity, while Grace had gone to fetch George to shoot a glance at Bailey. He was stretched out on her bed, hands tucked behind his head and his eyes closed. His face was relaxed and he looked so peaceful. "Hi George. Good, and you?" Sam laughed softly. "No, Bailey wasn't too much of a pain . . . " She said, glancing at Bailey who had one eye open, playfully glaring at her. "Yes, can you look up a John Ackmen?" Sam sat down on the bed, beside Bailey. "No problem. Call me on my cell, thanks." She said, hanging up. She placed the phone on the bedside table and lay down next to Bailey.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bailey asked, turning on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sam remained on her tummy, her head facing the other side.

"Not really." Came her muffled response. It wasn't the fact that Jack had been so close, that troubled her. It was the fact that he had come so close, so easily. Neither of them had even thought about Jack following them. For some strange reason, she felt that if she left Atlanta, she left Jack behind. But it wasn't the case, and that aspect terrified her : no matter where she went, she would never be rid of Jack.

Bailey gently caressed her hair as he sighed deeply. He halfway understood what she was going through, and he figured why she was in this state. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but Jack had followed them. And so easily he could have killed them. When they were in the car, when they had their backs to him. But, it wasn't the killing that Jack was after. It's the game. Cat and mouse. Dog and Cat. Hunter and Hunted. Still getting no response from Sam, he got up from the bed and left the room.

"Bail?" In a second he was by her side, on her side of the bed.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He said, stroking her cheek with his thumb. The pillow was wet with tears of fear, and the eyes of a frightened child pleaded with him.

"Stay with me." She said, almost inaudibly. "I know," she sat up a little, her voice regaining it's composure. "I know I have to be strong . . . I know I'm weak - "

"- no, no!" Bailey interrupted her. "Sam, you are not weak. I . . . I feel the same way." Bailey dropped his head. "What if something happened to you?" He wiped another tear away. "What would I do?"

"Stay with me." Sam repeated, as she gently took his hand and guided him to her bed. She moved over, so that she was lying in the middle, and Bailey lay down beside her. Slowly, she cuddled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder, and one arm securely draped around his chest. Bailey placed one arm around her, and the other holding her hand that was on his chest. They both fell into a dreamless sleep.

A little after midnight, Bailey's eyes shot open. Sam was still lying beside him, the contact had never been broken. He lay awake in darkness, painfully aware of something troubling. «Something isn't right.» He thought to himself, as his eyes skimmed through the envelopping darkness. He was afraid that his own demons would play tricks on him; shadows projected on the walls by the merciless moon would haunt him until morn; the darkness would slowly suck him into a hellish abyss. But this wasn't his normal thoughts: those that had haunted him through childhood, but others. A somewhat threat was close . . . to close for comfort. He stared into the perditionned darkness for a long time, until his eyes grew heavy with sleep. But he was a fighter : he would not lose Sam. He would protect her until his dying moment, and he knew that's what Jack had planned for him . . . for them.