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Entry tags:	character: jack, character: sam waters, fandom: profiler, pairing: jack/sam, title: surrender

Surrender (part one)
Title: Surrender
Fandom: Profiler
Characters: Jack, Sam Waters, Bailey Malone, John Grant
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Word Count: 1300
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own Profiler or the characters within; NBC does, and they are big ol' meanies for canceling the show in the middle of a plotline!
Summary: Santa Jack comes down the chimney with a little present for Sam.... Written for 2004 Sekrit Santa. Part two is here.


Sam sank wearily down on the hotel bed. She'd gotten very little sleep since the VCTF had started on this case. A serial killer targeting young girls in Atlanta struck close enough to home in itself – but one of the girls had been from Chloe's school. They were calling him the Schoolgirl Strangler, and he was certainly responsible for the deaths of eleven young girls, and they suspected him in the disappearances of five more. They had a suspect, one Karl Fielder, and they'd tracked him to Rayle, GA. The team had worked late into the night and they had decided to stay in a hotel rather than drive over two hours back to Atlanta only to return the next morning.

Too tired to get up again to wash her face or change out of her clothes, she fell into an uneasy sleep, tossing and turning as she ran over the facts of the case in her mind. Her fears for her daughter sparked a nightmare of the killer stalking Chloe, but she tried to shift the dream to something more pleasant. Chloe safe and healthy and tucked into bed. Lying in Tom's arms as he kissed her cheek tenderly. He pressed a red rose into her hand; she could almost smell it.

Her eyes snapped open. She could smell roses. She wasn't dreaming.

"Samantha," a familiar voice whispered in her ear. He lay pressed against her back, his arms around her as he nuzzled at her neck. She lunged for the table beside her bed, reaching for her gun, but he knew she was awake and anticipated her movements, holding her back so that her fingertips only brushed rose petals. She took in a breath to call for help, and he quickly covered her mouth with one gloved hand. "No screaming," he scolded, then added, chuckling, "At least...not yet."

"What do you want?" she said when he removed his hand from her mouth. She forced herself to remain calm, though she knew he could feel her heart racing. The room was almost completely dark; she couldn't see Jack, but she knew unmistakably the voice was his. She could hear the soft rustle of the curtains covering the glass door that led to the balcony as a breeze came in the open entrance. That must have been how he got in, but they were on the third floor, so how...?

"I brought you a Christmas present, my Samantha," he said, stroking her hair, taking a handful and pressing it to his face and inhaling deeply. He ran his hand along her side, letting his fingers trace the curves of her body. His other arm remained tight around her.

"I don't want anything from you," she hissed.

"You'll like this, I promise," he said. "I picked it out just for you. I was just going to creep down the chimney and leave it for you, but then I saw you lying here all alone, my beautiful Samantha...."

"Let me go!" she demanded, struggling in his grasp, trying to ignore the sensuous tickle of his hot breath on her neck. Despite her fear and rage she felt a strange thrill from the possessive way his arms were wrapped around her. His touch should disgust her, but to her confusion and dismay she found herself enjoying the feel of his hands on her body.

"Say please," he teased.

"Please," she whispered. She sucked in a sudden breath as he slid his hand over her breast.

He chuckled softly. "You didn't say pretty please, Samantha." He began to roll her on to her back.

She desperately worked one arm free and reached again for the nightstand, trying to find her gun, the lamp, anything to use as a weapon. He yanked her back, but not before her flailing arm swept an object from the small table. Something glass shattered on the floor as he forced her on to her back, straddling her and pinning her wrists to the bed. She continued to struggle as he smothered her cries by bringing his mouth down hard on hers, kissing her with an almost frenzied passion. She twisted and bucked her hips against him, trying to get him off her, but that only seemed to increase his arousal...and hers. Gradually her struggles subsided, but she still strained her body against his. "Jack," she whimpered.

She felt him smile against her lips. He released her wrists, lifting himself slightly so he could unbutton her blouse. As his leather-covered fingers caressed her breasts, she let her head fall to one side and moaned softly. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. This was insane. She should be fighting, screaming, doing anything but letting him touch her. Wanting him to touch her. Jack...a murderer...her husband's killer...what was she doing? She tried to distract herself from her crazy desires by forcing herself to concentrate on the details of his appearance. She couldn't see his face in the darkness, so she concentrated on estimating his height, the weight of his body pressed against hers, the scrape of his facial hair against her cheek, the feel of his lips on hers.... She kissed him back, her passion rising to met his. Take me, claim me, make me yours....

Someone knocked at the door. "Sam? Are you all right?" Bailey called.

"Merry Christmas, my Samantha," Jack whispered, and then he was gone.

"Bailey!" Sam cried, her emotions still reeling.

He kicked open the door and stood in the doorway, gun drawn. "Sam?"

"Jack...he was here...the balcony," she gasped.

She could see him -- and John now, too -- in the doorway. John ran to the balcony as Bailey hurried to her side. She sat up and hastily buttoned her blouse before Bailey turned on the lamp next to the bed, taking her face in his hands. "Are you all right, Sam?" he asked.

She nodded shakily. "He-he said he was bringing me a Christmas present." She couldn't look Bailey in the eyes and instead glanced downward at the shattered remains of the vase containing a dozen red roses. Knocking the vase to the floor had awoken Bailey and John, had saved her from letting Jack claim her as his.

John stepped back into the room. "It looks like he climbed down from one of the upper floors," he said to Sam and Bailey. "There's another rope going down to the ground -- he's long gone."

Bailey nodded. "Check the front desk," he said. "Find out who the rooms above this one were registered to, and if they have any video surveillance of the lobby and the outside grounds." John gave Sam a concerned look to assure himself she was all right, then left the room.

Sam looked around, still avoiding Bailey's gaze and searching for Jack's promised gift as well. A small Christmas tree sat on the bureau, and she rose from the bed to move toward it. Festive tinsel decorated the small evergreen – as did polaroids of young girls. Sam recognized several of them as victims of the Schoolgirl Strangler and other missing girls, but it was the picture at the top of the tree, taped to an angel, that filled her heart with dread. Chloe. The bastard had been watching Chloe, too. She could be his next intended victim.

She reached for the box that sat next to the tree. Bailey caught her arm, but she shook her head, opening the box. The sightless eyes of a severed head stared up at her. Karl Fielder. He couldn't hurt Chloe now.

"To Sam, From Jack. Merry Christmas," the tag read. Sam closed her eyes against the tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered. And some small dark part of her wanted him to come back so she could thank him in person.

X-posted to profiler_fans (here)