(Unseen scenes from "Ambition in the Blood")

WHEN LIFE TAKES ME DOWN / Day One

"Are you out of your mind? Charging Agent Waters with murder?" Coop was ready to fly off the handle at the meddling local pd captain.

"I call them like I see them," Handleman replied snidely.

"Get your eye sight checked, 'cos you're off the mark on this one," Coop ranted at the man.

Sam, on the other hand, was more anxious than ever to talk to Bailey. Where was he, anyway? What had Coop meant by "out of the loop"? She wanted to tell him she was all right and what was going on, seek his reassurance.

"Coop, just give me your cell. I need to talk to Bailey," she reached out her hand. Her sight was still a bit blurry, but she could see Coop looking discomfited. A sense of dread started to chill her.

Shooting a pointed look at Handleman, Coop took her to the side and broke the news to her. "Sam... John had to take Bailey to the hospital." At her sharp intake of breath, he quickly continued: "Looks like his daughter shot him. He's in surgery as we speak." Coop looked on as shock and grief overtook Sam.

She needed to be there, by his side, and that's all that mattered right now. "I have to get there, now," she uttered and bolted for the door.

"Excuse me, where are you going? You're under arrest, Doctor Waters," Handleman said to detain Sam. When she gave no notice of heeding his words, he took on after her. Coop grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him back.

"Her friend and boss has just been shot, and her daughter is in town. Her whole life is here. You can be pretty sure she isn't about to go on the lam," he ground out. "Now, we are heading to the Atlanta general hospital. If you intend to pursue this ridiculous course of action, you will find us there," he finished with disdain and followed Sam out of the space.

She strode out into the sunshine and was blinded by the light. The day was progressing, the minutes were passing. All of it was real. Her knees gave out, like she'd been punched in the gut, and she braced her fall with her hands. For a moment, she thought she wouldn't be able to get up.

She knew one thing with perfect clarity: she wasn't ready to lose her friend.


Coop navigated the car through the busy streets while Sam talked to George and Grace on the phone. Having heard that Sam had been found safe and sound, John had chosen to stay at the hospital.

Sam jumped out of the car at the emergency doors and hastened inside. Her vision had turned to normal, and she rushed through the doors, impatient to find the admittance desk and hear news of Bailey's condition.

She asked a nurse for the whereabouts of the desk, and followed the directions, first to the left, second on the right. She made it there in less than a minute and fired up her questions before even reaching the desk. "Excuse me, I'm Sam Waters, I understand that a Bailey Malone was brought in here about forty minutes ago, how is he doing?" she rattled off to an unflappable nurse.

"Ma'am, take a deep breath and state your business again," instructed the nurse.

Sam hardly took half a breath before replying: "I'm looking for Bailey Malone, my name is Sam Waters, I believe I'm mentioned in his living will, so could you please tell me how he's doing?" The nurse started to look up Bailey's files on the computer, and Sam was about to launch another series of questions when John called her name.

He'd emerged from the waiting room where he'd stationed himself to wait for Sam and Coop's arrival. Seeing the shaken look on her face, he was glad he'd had the presence of mind to shed his blood-stained sweater.

"John! What do you know, any news?" she fired quickly.

"He's still in the o.r. The surgeons are working hard," he reassured her. "I'm glad to see you," he said and hugged her. "Are you okay?"

She dismissed his enquiry impatiently, not willing to discuss or even reminisce it. "Was he still talking when they got him to the hospital?"

"No, he was out cold when I brought him here," he replied. "Frances called me in a panic, apparently right after she'd shot him. I took off right away and found the front door open. She was nowhere in sight. I found him in her room," he finished uncertainly, not knowing how much the profiler could cope with before a complete meltdown.

The nurse had finally pulled up Bailey's files, and he informed them that Sam was listed in the living will. After Coop joined them at the desk, they were escorted to the surgery wing's waiting room.


She took a deep breath, then killed the engine and stepped out of the car, her mind made up. She walked up the path to the door, which was plastered with "FBI DO NOT CROSS" tapes. She knew the forensic team had already been there, and therefore she had no qualms about entering his house. She was struggling to make sense of it all, and she was drawn to the scene of his tragedy, as if her presence there would somehow rectify the past or impact the present.

Her hands were shaky, and she had to bend over to insert the key into the lock with accuracy. She entered the house and closed the door behind her, then froze in her steps. She was assaulted with a smell of iron. The seeped remains of his blood. "Oh, Bailey," escaped her lips.

She took a moment, letting herself to feel the grief for her friend. Then, she walked further and entered his bedroom. She clicked on the lamp beside his bed, and sat on the bed for a while, looking out of the window into the darkness of the night. Finally, she steeled herself and took a closer look at the floor. No signs of dried blood, but then, she'd just been preparing herself for the real deal.

She stood up and headed, with slow and heavy steps, to Frances' room. The scent emanating from the room grew stronger with each step. She reached the doorway and paused, then flicked on the ceiling light. There was no escaping the dark patch on the carpeting and the clothes lying on the floor.

Later, she'd have no clear recollection of how she'd ended up on the floor, if her knees had given out like before or if she'd sut down of her own accord. She just remembered sitting there, staring at the dried puddle, picturing him lying on the floor, helpless and heartbroken. Like she felt at the moment.