Gift Fic: "Lament of a Madman," Profiler, Jack/Sam
Title: Lament of a Madman
Author: vinniebatman
Fandom: Profiler
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Samantha
Rating/Warnings: This one is teen for references to serial killing.
Spoilers: Generally through the series
Disclaimer: I so totally own Profiler. So Bow Down! *Doctor's Note: Patient exhibits delusions of grandeur and any claims of ownership are pure fantasy. No harm is meant. Seriously, it's better than her throwing rocks at people.*
Beta: Thanks for the betaing and cheerleading of _beetle_!
Dedication: Written for my dear friend serialbathera who is just a total sweetie, always there to pick me up when I'm bummed. I love you so, Amanda!
* * * * * * * *
All of his life, he'd felt the need, this urge to twist and cut, to see insides bleed out.
He saw the strings that tied lives together, so easily pulled. It was a game to him, humans merely pawns for his amusement. Jack knew that others considered him a psychopath, incapable of emotion. And in truth, they were right. For the most part, nothing truly registered, nothing seemed to touch him inside. His only pleasure had been the hunt, the game of taking lives and making those that stumbled after him dance. And after a while, even that had started to grow tiresome.
Then one day, he'd become hunted by an equal. He'd watched his hunter, studying. And he'd felt it, a pure emotion. It was a warmth unlike any he'd felt, untainted by bloodlust. Samantha was perfection, so similar to him, so peerless a hunting partner if only she could have shaken loose those laughable morals. A part of her was always held aloof, a piece of her untouched by the world, a kindred spirit. And for a few moments, face to face, he'd seen her curiosity, a yearning for him, to embrace the darkness. But in the end, she'd chosen the false world, leaving him to die.
It was then he'd felt his second pure emotion: heartbreak. After that, the game lost its joy. Pulling strings seemed hollow, his machinations pointless. He'd accepted the truth: she wouldn't choose him, ever. And if he reappeared, she'd come back to hunt him, terrified and haunted, driven to destroy him. So he'd done the one thing he could: he'd let his Samantha go. He'd run, far from where he'd be noticed and recognized.
Yet even though he'd let her go, she was still his. So he'd tracked her down, found her hiding place and kept watch from a distance. He read the local papers, eying it for any threat to his dear one. Until one day he'd read a headline and felt a pain greater than the heartache of her rejection: "Former FBI Agent Killed in Auto Accident"
He couldn't breathe, his heart constricted and stomach riotous. He'd cried out in anger, screaming out a pain beyond his comprehension. Part of him wanted to rage, cut a swath of blood and destruction until the world was as broken and pained as he was. The rest of him just wanted to lay down and die.
His Samantha was gone.
And so he stood in the graveyard, watching as his darling Samantha's casket was lowered into the ground, beside her husband. As he looked out from under his hat, his heart had actually ached for Chloe. She sat, silently tearful, hands resting on the bump of her unborn baby, curled up between her husband and his parents. She was likely the only one who'd understand his love for Samantha. For a few seconds, he desperately wanted to talk to her, to know more of his Samantha, to know more of her in private mom. Instead, he filed past with the other mourners, tossing a single red rose onto her casket and murmuring his condolences to Chloe. Looking into her watery eyes, Jack felt that suffocating pain well up, and he quickly walked away before he could draw attention.
He moved on automatic, driving his rental car to the hotel and hurrying to his room. The pain was tying up his heart again, wrapping steel bands about his chest until each breath seemed a chore. He clenched his jaw, keeping everything locked inside as he parked his car and entered the hotel. He ignored the friendly desk clerk and nearly ran up the stairs to his room. With shaking hands, he unlocked the door and let himself in. He'd barely shut the door before he dropped to his knees, heaving in a shaking breath.
"Jack?"
His head snapped up, searching the darkened room. A light flicked on and the world stopped. For long seconds, Jack couldn't breathe, didn't want to. If he took a breath, the apparition of Samantha might disappear. She was beautiful, despite the passage of seventeen years. Her silky hair was pulled back, strands of grey threaded through gold, fine wrinkles surrounding her eyes and lining her forehead.
Samantha stood and walked over, then knelt in front of him. Her brow was furrowed, somehow surprised.
"I'm here, Jack. I'm real."
Jack was ashamed at the way his hand shook as he slowly lifted it and brushed his fingertips across her cheek. She pressed her face into his embrace.
"I... You said 'never.'"
"I couldn't just leave Chloe. I had to wait until she ready to be without her mother. Her husband's family adores her, she'll be fine."
Jack reached out and cupped her face. He drew in a shaking breath as he leaned closer and pressed a brief, sweet kiss to her lips.
"So what now?" he asked.
Samantha leaned away and grasped a small leather-bound journal. She handed it to Jack and smiled, something alien yet familiar and feral in her smile. When he opened the book, inside were names and newspaper clippings.
"We play a game."
THE END
Author: vinniebatman
Fandom: Profiler
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Samantha
Rating/Warnings: This one is teen for references to serial killing.
Spoilers: Generally through the series
Disclaimer: I so totally own Profiler. So Bow Down! *Doctor's Note: Patient exhibits delusions of grandeur and any claims of ownership are pure fantasy. No harm is meant. Seriously, it's better than her throwing rocks at people.*
Beta: Thanks for the betaing and cheerleading of _beetle_!
Dedication: Written for my dear friend serialbathera who is just a total sweetie, always there to pick me up when I'm bummed. I love you so, Amanda!
* * * * * * * *
All of his life, he'd felt the need, this urge to twist and cut, to see insides bleed out.
He saw the strings that tied lives together, so easily pulled. It was a game to him, humans merely pawns for his amusement. Jack knew that others considered him a psychopath, incapable of emotion. And in truth, they were right. For the most part, nothing truly registered, nothing seemed to touch him inside. His only pleasure had been the hunt, the game of taking lives and making those that stumbled after him dance. And after a while, even that had started to grow tiresome.
Then one day, he'd become hunted by an equal. He'd watched his hunter, studying. And he'd felt it, a pure emotion. It was a warmth unlike any he'd felt, untainted by bloodlust. Samantha was perfection, so similar to him, so peerless a hunting partner if only she could have shaken loose those laughable morals. A part of her was always held aloof, a piece of her untouched by the world, a kindred spirit. And for a few moments, face to face, he'd seen her curiosity, a yearning for him, to embrace the darkness. But in the end, she'd chosen the false world, leaving him to die.
It was then he'd felt his second pure emotion: heartbreak. After that, the game lost its joy. Pulling strings seemed hollow, his machinations pointless. He'd accepted the truth: she wouldn't choose him, ever. And if he reappeared, she'd come back to hunt him, terrified and haunted, driven to destroy him. So he'd done the one thing he could: he'd let his Samantha go. He'd run, far from where he'd be noticed and recognized.
Yet even though he'd let her go, she was still his. So he'd tracked her down, found her hiding place and kept watch from a distance. He read the local papers, eying it for any threat to his dear one. Until one day he'd read a headline and felt a pain greater than the heartache of her rejection: "Former FBI Agent Killed in Auto Accident"
He couldn't breathe, his heart constricted and stomach riotous. He'd cried out in anger, screaming out a pain beyond his comprehension. Part of him wanted to rage, cut a swath of blood and destruction until the world was as broken and pained as he was. The rest of him just wanted to lay down and die.
His Samantha was gone.
And so he stood in the graveyard, watching as his darling Samantha's casket was lowered into the ground, beside her husband. As he looked out from under his hat, his heart had actually ached for Chloe. She sat, silently tearful, hands resting on the bump of her unborn baby, curled up between her husband and his parents. She was likely the only one who'd understand his love for Samantha. For a few seconds, he desperately wanted to talk to her, to know more of his Samantha, to know more of her in private mom. Instead, he filed past with the other mourners, tossing a single red rose onto her casket and murmuring his condolences to Chloe. Looking into her watery eyes, Jack felt that suffocating pain well up, and he quickly walked away before he could draw attention.
He moved on automatic, driving his rental car to the hotel and hurrying to his room. The pain was tying up his heart again, wrapping steel bands about his chest until each breath seemed a chore. He clenched his jaw, keeping everything locked inside as he parked his car and entered the hotel. He ignored the friendly desk clerk and nearly ran up the stairs to his room. With shaking hands, he unlocked the door and let himself in. He'd barely shut the door before he dropped to his knees, heaving in a shaking breath.
"Jack?"
His head snapped up, searching the darkened room. A light flicked on and the world stopped. For long seconds, Jack couldn't breathe, didn't want to. If he took a breath, the apparition of Samantha might disappear. She was beautiful, despite the passage of seventeen years. Her silky hair was pulled back, strands of grey threaded through gold, fine wrinkles surrounding her eyes and lining her forehead.
Samantha stood and walked over, then knelt in front of him. Her brow was furrowed, somehow surprised.
"I'm here, Jack. I'm real."
Jack was ashamed at the way his hand shook as he slowly lifted it and brushed his fingertips across her cheek. She pressed her face into his embrace.
"I... You said 'never.'"
"I couldn't just leave Chloe. I had to wait until she ready to be without her mother. Her husband's family adores her, she'll be fine."
Jack reached out and cupped her face. He drew in a shaking breath as he leaned closer and pressed a brief, sweet kiss to her lips.
"So what now?" he asked.
Samantha leaned away and grasped a small leather-bound journal. She handed it to Jack and smiled, something alien yet familiar and feral in her smile. When he opened the book, inside were names and newspaper clippings.
"We play a game."
THE END