Author’s Note: When I wrote this story, I wrote a disclaimer to justify some of the content by the context of whose fictional brain it was supposedly coming out of. I’m no longer sure that *does* justify it, but I think it would be dishonest to edit it now. It may not be as bad as this note makes it look, but some of it makes my stomach turn to re-read it now (one turn of phrase in particular) so I apologize in advance anyway. *sigh* Written shortly after “Otis, California,” so AU for anything after that.

Otis, California
February 22, 1999

My dear Agent Malone,

It was so good to see you again, and my dear Samantha! It’s been such a long time, and it’s been such a challenge for me to allow her to believe we are together while I still watch from afar. So much more of a challenge than you ever afforded me, although I must acknowledge you all did your best. I suppose it is true that one’s only equal opponent is oneself. Ah, but Samantha…soon she will realize how empty her life is without me in it, and then she will begin to see through the living mask I have chosen to disguise myself. Poor Mr. Lucas. I hate to deprive him of her affections, but the natural balance must be restored.

Don’t look so suprised to hear from me! I realize I played your game quite well, but surely you had at least a moment of wondering if, after all, I might have won? You of all of them should have sensed that this man, Lucas, could not truly be me. After all, there is a tie, whether desired or not, between kindred spirits.

Now I’ve offended you. Do you resent this truth I’ve laid in your hands? For truth it is–together we are both Samantha’s protectors, only you cling to the misguided belief that you must protect her from me. You know that I could never truly harm her. Just as I know that you would kill for her, without hesitation. You see, I profile too. I learn from my Teacher, as she learns from me. And, as they say, “it takes one to know one.”

I still enjoy our games, and have amused myself for hours picturing your reaction to discovering that it was I whom you so condescendingly scolded on police procedure and ettiquette, disbelief at my “stupidity” etched on your features. Amazing that even after I tore you away from her with the false report on my radio, you still did not suspect. The people of this place do my bidding, Malone. I spared your life, just as surely as it was my hand, not your pet queer’s, that saved my Samantha. I thought of using you instead of him, but we are too much alike–you would not suffer guilt for killing in her name–and I am so enjoying the emotional torture he now inflicts upon himself. Besides, taking you would have alerted Samantha to the truth, and I am not yet finished with my play.

You have no idea how much it saddens me to learn that you have begun to look away from her. I rather liked the competition, as you were and are the only one who could ever rival me in love for her. I know your mind–she seems inaccessible, and therefore you turn away to save yourself. How foolish–you should know, as I do, that her inaccessibility is all the more reason to pursue her. Perhaps once you rid yourself of that meddlesome restraint you call your honor, I will have to consider you a serious threat and take steps to remove you. That is a day I will indeed look forward to.

Although perhaps, in this instance, it is not honor that holds you back, but survival. That same instinct that has ensured my silence during these agonizing months that Samantha has lavished her attention on another in my place. Men like us know, after all, what we do to those who dare to oppose us. So I lie low to conceal myself from you, and you look away to protect yourself from me. Touché.

Someday, Malone, I will give you the honor of dying for our Samantha. If you truly want to survive, you will pray that she never chooses you.

Ah, but we both know I can depend on you not to do that, don’t we?

With sincerest regards,
Jack of All Trades