Title: Mind's Eye
Author: Julie Jekel (drjekel@hotmail.com)
Disclaimers: If they were mine...ah, if only they *were*...but alas, they're
not, and I think it shows. :-P
Spoilers: "Las Brisas," "Reunion" (1&2)
Rating: PG-13
Archive: To the PFA and BMLK, anywhere else, please ask
Feedback: PLEASE!
Keywords: SBR--if that bothers you, scram. ;-)
Summary: An alternate ending to "Reunion II." The end of Jack's game
changes Sam's life forever.
This is a work in progress. Which means it may take a while to complete,
but I thought you guys might like to see what I have so far. Enjoy! :-)
"Mind's Eye"
by Julie L. Jekel
>>>Part I<<<
"This was such an inspired choice. The same place where Cole made all those
children suffer. And now, you'll make him suffer unto you."
Sam closed her eyes, resisting the urge to fight the handcuffs that bound
her to the pole. The church was empty except for the three of them in the
basement. Thomas Cole dangled by a noose from the ceiling, his life spared
only by the chair that rested just barely under his toes.
She was nearing panic. She'd agreed to this morbid ceremony as a ploy to
buy time, but with every moment that passed, that plan looked to become more
costly. she pleaded silently.
A shock of silent agony shot through her as she suddenly realized the
futility of her thoughts. Bailey couldn't come save her ever again. Jack
had already killed him, and with him lying dead outside that cabin, the team
might not even know she wasn't still there herself.
He approached her then, reaching down to unlock the handcuffs and she
steeled herself against the recoil that his touch inspired.
"Samantha, now I feel like you're really with me."
The fondness and admiration in his tone made bile rise in her throat. Never
had those emotions been so twisted.
He took her by the arm and thrust her into the wall behind Cole.
"Here, take it. C'mon, take it," he coaxed, drawing her hands to the chair
that was the only thing keeping the other man alive. "Now let it go."
Her hands tightened on the chair instead.
"Oh, is it too heavy for you?" he asked, a sinister sort of sympathy
coloring his voice. "Well, here, let me get it started for you."
He tipped the chair towards her and Sam panicked, struggling to keep the
piece of furniture beneath Cole's feet. "Oh, God, please," her silent
prayer suddenly found her desperate voice.
"Let it go, Samantha," Jack commanded, beginning to sound irritated.
Suddenly, through the door, the beam of a flashlight caught his attention
and he turned. A wild look came into his eyes that Sam instantly recognized
and a sudden flare of anger burst over her.
"Jack!" she cried before he could flee. "Please, Jack, just wait! Won't it
be more meaningful if I do it in front of them?" He turned back towards
her, fastening his frightening eyes on hers. She gestured towards the door,
trying not to tremble. "An eternal break with that world. Don't you
appreciate the symbolism?" Another silent prayer went up, this time that he
wouldn't hear the desperation in her voice.
A sinister smile crept slowly over his face. "Oh, Samantha," he almost
purred. "Such noble intentions. Don't you realize that what the audience
wants is mystique? Why would they appreciate the performance of an artist
who is known?"
"Get away from her, NOW!" John's voice shattered the cold gathering around
them and Sam let out a gasp of relief that her ploy had bought them just
enough time. But Jack didn't take his eyes away from hers, and she suddenly
recognized the triumphant gleam in them. Her stomach turned cold--he had
known all along...
"Agent Grant, how nice to see you again," the killer crooned smoothly,
turning back to face the younger man, a gun suddenly in his hand that she
hadn't even known he had.
"IN HERE!" John shouted. The sound of hurrying footsteps followed his call
and Sam realized she had been holding her breath at the moment she began to
breathe again.
Other agents burst in after him, including a young woman with light auburn
hair that she didn't recognize. But it was the person who entered the room
behind her who made Sam's heart stop.
"Bailey..."
He was standing there in front of her, his weapon trained on her captor and
his simmering coffee-colored eyes fixed on her.
He was alive!
"Well, now, Agent Malone too," Jack taunted. His eyes swept over the group,
which now included the entire team. "And Dr. Alvarez and Mr. Fraley and
Agent...Burke, is it? My, my, is there anyone who hasn't come to join our
little party?"
"It's over, Newquay," Bailey declared brusquely. "Let her go!"
"I see you've been busy, Agent Malone. You've found out all about me. Pity
it took so long--I've known all about you for years. Just think of the
stories we could have shared."
"Let her go!" Bailey demanded again.
"Now, now, Agent Malone, mustn't be so impatient. Samantha and I were just
having a little party. I'd think you would be more than willing to let us
take this poor, sick bastard out of the way." He pointed to Cole.
"The only bastard I want to see taken down right now is you," Malone
retorted, his voice cold with hate.
"Touchy, aren't we. Why don't you ask Samantha what she wants--you might be
surprised."
Bailey's eyes had never left her face throughout this conversation, and now
his voice softened with concern. "Sam..."
"I'm okay, Bailey," she reassured him softly.
Jack took a step closer to her, his breath curdling on her skin as his
still-victorious eyes fastened once again on hers. "Such a dilemma, isn't
it? Return to the safety and comfort of the mediocre life you knew, or take
the risk of letting me teach you to fly. Ah, but you can't return to your
old life, can you? For the past six years, *I* have been your life. I have
shaped every moment of it, every action, every thought. Could you really
live without me, Samantha? Would you want to? Do you dare to face that
nightmare of absolute boredom?"
For the first time, Sam looked into the eyes of her tormentor without a
trace of fear, only defiance. She spoke one word, softly, firmly.
"Yes."
Jack's face twisted and clouded with anger and he took a step back, away
>from her, the hand that held the gun falling to his side. Sam's eyes swung
back to Bailey as a brilliant, knowing smile blossomed across his face. She
smiled in return.
The team held their collective breath--was Jack actually going to surrender?
"Goodbye, Samantha."
The sound of the shot echoed through the room before anyone fully registered
that he had raised the gun again, and Sam crumpled wordlessly to the ground.
"NO!!!!!!!!!!!!" Bailey screamed, squeezing hard on the trigger of his own
gun. A little explosion of red burst out of Albert Newquay's stomach and he
too fell, his face still wearing an expression of insane triumph.
The head of the VCTF was at Sam's side in an instant, falling to his knees
and drawing her shakily into his arms. Rachel's words from earlier rang in
his mind.
("You'll never see her again...when he realizes his dream of a future with
Sam is a delusion...")
"Get an ambulance! NOW!" Bailey barked, the sharpness of his voice a stark
contrast to the tenderness with which he was cradling his fallen friend in
his arms. He dropped his head, squeezing his eyes tight shut against the
sight of the blood that was spilling into his hands.
"Oh, God, Sam," he whispered brokenly. "You don't do this part, remember?
I'm supposed to--" He stopped, his throat too sore, too tight to keep
speaking. His arms tightened around her and his whole body shook with
helplessness. The face that could be as craggy and impenetrable as a stone
had crumbled in anguish.
John hung up his cell phone, his own face white. "They're sending a
helicopter. It should be here in a few minutes."
Bailey nodded. He forced himself to speak again, to hold onto Sam with his
voice as well as his arms, even though the words came out in a dusky whisper
that was a faded echo of his usual rich baritone.
"Hang on, Sam," he pleaded in that ashen tone. "Don't give up on me, you
hear me? Chloe needs you. *I* need you--don't you dare give up. Oh, God,
Sam..." Blood. So much blood, it seemed to cover everything, and it wasn't
stopping. Now he knew how she had felt cradling Coop in the back of that
stolen ambulance. But she was still alive--he could still faintly feel her
heartbeat where he held her against him. "Just a little longer, Sam.
They'll be here in a minute. Just hold on a little longer..."
Kneeling beside him, Grace pressed an urgent hand to Bailey's back.
"Bailey...let me look at her. I haven't always specialized in dead people,
you know."
Reluctantly, he scooted aside without letting go. The pathologist inspected
her friend with gentle, trembling fingers. "There's been massive head
trauma," she announced grimly, her voice low and worried. "I think the
bullet missed the brain, but she'll bleed to death if we don't get her to a
hospital quickly."
"Where's that damned chopper?" Bailey demanded.
"Malone..."
Jack's raspy voice insinuated itself into Bailey's consciousness and he
looked up from the form in his arms to where the little bastard lay bleeding
himself a few feet a way. The agent's dark eyes were black with hate and
the other man smiled vindictively, his own eyes taking on a familiar
psychotic gleam.
"Told you she could't live without me."
Something inside the taller man snapped. With one fluid motion he raised
his gun and fired a single clean shot. Jack's face exploded, his body
ricocheting with the impact and collapsing to the floor.
For an eternal silent moment, the rest of the team just stared at the
tableau spread out before them. The profiler lay unmoving across her
mentor's lap, one of his hands grasping her shoulders, the other extended
like the cannon of a tank, clutching the weapon that had just ended an eight
year nightmare.
The gun fell unnoticed from Bailey's hands as a sound curiously like a sob
escaped his throat. He curled both arms around Sam, burying his face in
her blood-stained hair. "Hold on, Sam," he croaked. "Hold on."
To be continued...
JJ
