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Section Six
by LeFey


Part Eleven


I t's not that big a deal. You make a few adjustments. Throw the Director a bone." Vic told Mac as he drove.

"I thought it was your bone she liked?" Mac pushed his sunglasses up and folded his arms across his chest.

Vic raised a hand to stop him. "I explained that."

"You'd like to think you did."

Vic drew in a deep breath. He'd hurt Mac. He kept reminding himself that Mac was just acting this way because he was hurt. If he didn't stop this crap soon, though, Vic was sure he was going to hurt him again, in a very tangible, physical manner. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and continued. "I told you how it happened with the Director. I was new to the Agency, just out of prison, and I was confused. I didn't know what she was like and... and... she offered, man." He shook his open hand at Mac in a plea for understanding.

"She offered?" Mac's hands came out in a gesture of incredulous disbelief. "That's your excuse? She offered. Well, since you're standards are so high and exacting, I'll have to remember to keep you away from everybody."

Vic snapped down the blinker with a little too much force as he neared the industrial park that housed Satyr Video. "I'm not like you Mac. I told you before; I don't get offers like you do. Especially, not from women like her."

Mac snatched off his sunglasses. "I don't think it's called an offer from a 'woman like her.'" He made little quotation marks with his fingers. "It's usually called solicitation."

"See? This is what she's talking about. You've gotten us completely off the subject." He turned the Agency car into the parking lot. Once they were parked he sat in silence for a long moment and then turned towards Mac. "You know what you have to do in order to make things okay with her. You're just going to have to turn over a new leaf." He said the words very deliberately.

"Or what? You'll send me off to military school, Dad?"

"Jesus Christ, Mac!"

"You can just call me Mac, my son." Mac leaned back into his seat, a smug grin turning up the corners of his mouth.

"I'm serious, here." Vic stabbed a finger towards Mac. After a moment he frowned and sank back into his seat. "More importantly, the Director is serious."

"I can work her."

"Well, you better start because she's not playing around." Vic clicked off his seat belt. "You've got to take this seriously. I don't want to wake up one morning and find that you're gone."

Mac's face broke into a deeply dimpled grin. "I'm not going anywhere. You made this up, didn't you? The Director never said anything. You're just worried I'll leave." He leaned close and kissed Vic softly on the lips. "That's kind'a sweet."

Vic leaned away and tapped the back of his head on the window behind him. "God you are hopeless. I wish LiAnn were here to knock some sense into you again."

"Yeah, what was up with that?"

Vic jerked forward and grabbed the lapels of Mac's jacket. "That was exactly what I'm talking about. You're oblivious to the fact that you have to perform in a certain manner in certain situations. It's not going to kill you to act like the Director is actually in-charge. But trust me buddy," he let go of the coat and patted Mac on the cheek, "it could very well kill you if you don't."

Mac straightened his jacket. A slight glimmer of understanding was narrowing his dark eyes. "You really think she would send me away?"

Vic shook his head. "If it got to that point I don't think being sent away is what you'll really need to worry about."

"But she... ."

Vic covered Mac's mouth with his hand. "All I know is that she said she's invested a lot in you, and you haven't paid off. You know how the Director is about the bottom line."

Mac pushed Vic's hand away and then slumped into his seat. "What am I going to do?"

"You know what you need to do. Stop talking back, stop complaining, do what I tell you to sometimes."

"Oh yeah? Whose list are you quoting that from, hers or yours?"

Vic threw up his hands. "This is what pisses her off. Everything is a damn challenge with you!"

"It doesn't sound like you challenged her when it came to me. Sounds like you were right there ready to add to the list of what's wrong with Mac Ramsey."

"You're so right Mac." Victor gripped the steering wheel with both hands. "I was right there with the Director every step of the way."

"It would make it nice for you. You'd be her boy again, and you could pick up with Elliot and... ."

Vic shoved Mac against the car door and shouted, "I said I'd kill her." His face was close enough to make Mac wince at the sound. "I promised her that if she sent you away, or hurt you I'd kill her for it." Vic released him with a shove, and sat back staring out the window as he tried to catch his breath. "So, don't tell me I'm in on this, or taking her side against you."

After a long silence Mac said softly, "You'd kill her for me?" There was such a sense of wonder in his tone that Vic turned to look at him.

Mac's face was alight with marvel, as if he'd been given a special gift.

Vic couldn't help but laugh. He hooked his hand around Mac's neck and pulled him close.

"Yeah, I'd kill her for you, but you'd already be dead so it wouldn't do you a whole hell of a lot of good would it?

"I guess not." Mac kissed him quickly. "But I like the thought."

Vic laughed, again and pushed him away. "God, you are a piece of work."

Mac smiled. "I told you, you could call me Mac."

"Come on." Vic opened the car door. "Let's get this plot of hers hatched, and maybe she'll take it as a new beginning."

Mac grabbed his arm before he could get out. His face was set in a serious frown. "If it means staying with you, I'll do whatever it takes."

Vic cupped Mac's cheek with his palm. "Let's go show that bitch she's got nothing on us!"

###

Mac recognized Elliot's car, and pointed it out to Vic. They walked over to where it was parked, a few feet from the door of the video studio. Vic felt a little uneasy about everything that had happened, but Elliot nodded an acknowledgement as they approached. Vic knew he shouldn't have expected any less from the man. He was the professional that Vic only hoped to be.

"What happened to you?" Max Hardt, who stood next to Elliot, laughed as they neared. He pointed at Mac and the bruises that circled his neck.

Mac didn't respond, but stopped long before he reached them. He motioned to Elliot. "We need to talk."

Elliot looked at Hardt for a second, then covered the few yards to where Vic and Mac were standing.

"What's up?" Elliot asked by way of greeting.

Mac glanced back at Hardt. "Shouldn't we lose the civilian?"

Elliot smiled as if he knew a very funny secret. "He's not a civilian."

Hardt stepped beside them as Elliot turned towards him. "This is Pearson."

Mac's mouth fell open as the other man smiled at him. Mac jabbed a finger out towards him. "You're an agent? You were beating off while I was doing it."

Pearson threw up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Whoa! You're doing it, babe, was the reason I was beating off."

"I don't want to hear this!" Vic cut them both off. Vic's hand balled automatically into a fist and he flexed his fingers, trying to fight the anger that welled up in him.

"You must be Mansfield?" Pearson said. He looked him over quickly and smiled. "I can see what all the fuss is about."

His hand clenched again and Vic was ready to show this scum what a real fuss looked like.

Elliot raised both hands before anyone else could speak. "The job, remember?" The action produced an uncomfortable silence until Elliot spoke again. "Jason is inside. One of DelMar's thugs was going through his car when we arrived. We watched him take out a bag from a copy store and go inside."

"You think something's gone wrong?" Vic asked.

"I don't want to think that, but he's been in there an awfully long time. The Director has made arrangements with the RCMP to pick up DelMar. They're not here yet, but I don't want to take a chance and wait any longer."

"We'll go in now that you're here." Pearson gestured towards Vic and Mac. "We had to baby sit Canlan over there." He pointed at the car. There was a barely visible head in the backseat. "We had a talk with him on the way over. He's ready to give up DelMar, but I don't think he'll stick around on his own."

Vic pulled a gun from the holster on the back of his belt and checked the clip. "Stay with Canlan," he told Elliot. Then he pulled another clip from the shoulder holster under his jacket, and put it in his pocket. "We'll go in through the back. If you two walk into the middle of something it may make it worse." Vic walked away.

"But you're backup," Elliot protested.

Mac patted him on the shoulder and smiled. "That's a good one, man." He turned and jogged to catch up with Vic.

Vic offered Mac an automatic pistol when he joined him. "You need a gun?"

"I'm covered." Mac pulled his own guns out of each shoulder holster and checked them in turn.

"The Plan." Vic began the shorthand communication they used in these situations. "We go in, stay low and scope it out."

They reached the back door, and Mac checked the handle. It was locked. He pulled a pick from his jacket pocket, and after a couple of seconds eased the door open.

Vic held his gun against his chest with both hands, the barrel up. They looked at Mac, nodded and they stepped inside the building. They entered into a hallway, dimly lit and lined with three doors. The one nearest them was open. Vic crouched in a defensive position, gun pointed, as he looked inside. The room was a makeshift office with a computer and telephone on a metal desk. Videotapes and file folders littered the floor. It was vacant. Vic raised his gun again and moved passed the door.

Mac reached out and touched his arm, then motioned down the hallway. At the end of the corridor a bright light shone from under the last door. They nodded their agreement and moved down towards the light.

The door was slightly ajar and they heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh. The blow was accompanied by a pained grunt. Vic moved the door silently open. He allowed just enough space for the two of them to see inside.

Jason Tell knelt on the floor, his hands tied behind his back. Robert DelMar paced in front of him as another man watched.

"Don't you ever learn your lesson?" DelMar lashed out and caught Jason on the side of the jaw nearly knocking him over. "Are you just stupid? Is that the problem?" He continued to rant as Jason straightened. A faint trickle of blood ran from the corner of Jason's mouth to his chin.

Victor stepped back and pulled Mac close. "Who's the other guy?" he whispered, his mouth next to Mac's ear.

"Jake. He works for DelMar. Real scumbag," Mac whispered back.

"Dangerous?"

"Not that I've seen. Lackey type."

They moved back to the door.

DelMar continued to pace around Jason. "We've known each other for a long time. I'm ready to cut you a deal." He grabbed him by the hair and wrenched Jason's head up so he had to look at him. "This is the deal, asshole. You tell me what you were going to do with the copies of my stock information and I'll let you live." DelMar jerked Jason's head again when he didn't answer. "That's more than fair, considering my stock information is worth so much more than your loser life."

Mac tapped Victor's arm. When he looked over Mac was putting his gun away. He patted himself on the chest then made a walking gesture with his fingers. His hand opened and closed to mimic talking. Then he slid his open palm down the front of his shirt using their sign for cover me.

Vic nodded and drew a second gun from a shoulder holster inside his coat. If anyone could talk his way out of a situation like this it would be Mac. He'd seen him do it before with a lot scarier guys than a fashion designer and his toady. Vic took a step behind the door so he wouldn't be noticed when it was opened.

Mac moved silently back to the outside door, opened it and let it close with a thud. He walked quickly down the hallway making sure his shoes slapped loudly against the linoleum and announced his arrival. He exchanged thumbs up with Vic as he passed, and then opened the door and stood there for a moment as if he were surprised.

Vic could see through the space between the opened door and the jamb that Mac was, as he intended, the focus of attention.

"Hi guys. I know I'm late, but I didn't think you'd start without me." He sauntered into the room leaving the door ajar as before. Vic moved back into position with his guns raised.

"What are you doing here?" Del Mar asked Mac, then looked back at Jake who shrugged.

"My agent got a message that I had another video to shoot this afternoon." Mac rubbed his hands together and grinned. "What are we doing, some kind of kinky B&D stuff?"

Jake laughed and pointed at Mac. "By the look of your neck you've already been doing something."

Mac ran a hand over his throat and nodded. "I like it rough sometimes." Mac stepped beside Jason and helped him to stand. "You really shouldn't start with him all tied up." Mac took a pocketknife out and opened it. "A lot of guys get off on seeing the dude being tied up." He quickly worked the blade through the waxed cord that held Jason's wrists.

DelMar snapped his fingers at Jake. "Get him out of here."

Mac raised his hand in protest. "Come on man, give me a chance. I heard that I was a big hit at your party last night."

DelMar arched an eyebrow in surprise.

Mac wrapped his arm around Jason Tell's shoulder. "My main man and me could give you a little live and intense encore."

Jake was beside DelMar when he was stopped.

"That's a very interesting idea Mac." DelMar waved Jake back.

Jason jerked out of Mac's grasp, and took a step away from him.

DelMar smiled. "Jason seems to see the possibilities. I like the way you think Mac. I'd like to see it rough with Jason. Unless, Jason would like to give me an answer to my question?"

"Fuck you!"

Mac reached out and tapped Jason on the arm. "Hey, that's no way to talk to the boss. Or so I've been told."

Jason moved out of reach.

Mac turned back to DelMar and grinned. "Thanks for the opportunity. Jason and I will just go into the back and slip into something sexy."

"No." DelMar drew up a high stool and perched atop it. "You're right Mac. Some guys do get off on the foreplay. I want you to start right here, right now. Strip, both of you, and then you tie up my friend Jason."

Mac shook his head. "What about the camera, the lights the action?" He mimed a clapboard with his hands. "I'm here to do a video. I've got an agent to support, you know. I can't be doing this stuff for kicks."

"I'll pay you what your worth." DelMar assured him. Then he smiled as a thought occurred. "There'll be a bonus in it for you if you make him beg. I want it raw."

"Sure, but... ."

"Oh, and," Del Mar raised one finger, "I'll give you a modeling contract with our American men's line if you get him to answer my question."

Mac held out his hands and shrugged. "What question?"

DelMar gave a wicked laugh. "Jason knows the question. You only have to pry the answer out of him."

Mac looked at Jason and grinned. "Sort of a game, huh?"

"Yes, a game." DelMar said. "And it should be a good game since you like to play rough."

Mac bent and picked up a piece of the severed rope. "Guess I should have untied this," he said as he straightened. "So impulsive. But that makes for hot and nasty sex." He looked at Jason and pointed at the door where Vic lurked. "You want to go back and get us some new rope?"

"Jason stays where I can see him," DelMar stated. "Jake, get the rope."

Mac made a minimal gesture with his hand. Hidden from everyone his thumb and index finger joined in an Okay sign for Vic.

Vic took a step back, and made just enough room to let this Jake walk into the hallway and into a trap.

"I'm tired of waiting," DelMar told them. "Get naked."

Jason Tell looked from Mac to DelMar as Jake neared the door. Vic had seen the look before. He'd seen it hundred's of times on the street when a suspect was ready to bolt. He just hoped Mac would recognize it too. Jake neared the door and Vic tensed ready to grab him.

Jason took a step and to Vic there were all the signs of a runner trying to steal second. He threw the door open ready to pull Jake out of the play as Jason charged at DelMar. He knocked him off the stool and stood a beat as the man sprawled on the floor.

Jake turned at the sound of DelMar hitting the floor.

Mac called to Jason. "Don't run, man. I can get you out of this."

Jason did a hesitant shuffle, but turned to run anyway. DelMar grabbed him by the leg and they struggled as Jason kicked at him trying to break free.

Jake raised his arm and Vic saw the all too familiar motion. Time slowed and seemed to be marked off at the same sluggish pace as the booming beat of his heart. It was like watching a movie as it ticked away frame by frame. Jake's hand went into his jacket with an inevitability Vic was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop.

"Gun!" He yelled, and the one short word took an eternity to say.

Mac turned and looked from Jake to Jason. Vic could see Mac thinking. He could see his eyes track the trajectory Jake's bullet would take, and where it would impact on Jason's chest while DelMar trapped him.

Vic raised the gun in his right hand, his familiar and best gun hand. Jake's arm straightened and the automatic pistol jerked up into position while Vic raised his own gun.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mac move. He wanted to tell him to stop, or tell him to get down, or just scream 'no' as he lurched towards Jason Tell. Instead, he took a step into the room so he would be certain that his own shot would blow off the shoulder of this bastard who was aiming at Jason Tell.

The action took a fraction of a second, a half of a heartbeat, the moment between breaths, but it felt like time without end to Vic.

He fired, but Jake shot first. The sound of the two guns hung in the air like the ghostly vibrations that haunt the peel of a church bell.

Jake hit the floor, the force of the shot tearing away a large chunk of his shoulder, as Vic knew it would.

Jason Tell fell backwards, and crashed against three folding chairs that skidded and clattered around him as they broke his fall.

Mac fell on top of him and did not move.

The front door to the studio was kicked open.

"Mac!" Vic yelled and started towards him.

"Hit the floor!"

He ignored the repeated, screamed orders, but before he could reach Mac three members of a RCMP swat team knocked him to the ground. He continued to struggle to try and reach Mac until he heard the click a pistol was cocked near his head.

As his hands were stretched above his head his fingers nearly touched Mac. Despite the shouted orders for him not to move he managed to reach a millimeter more and rest his fingertips against Mac's. He felt the slightest twitch answer his touch. He struggled to keep the contact as a gloved hand pressed the side of his face against the cold floor.

He heard the familiar sound of the Director's high heels click towards him.

"No Randy. This one is with me. Elliot, we need our aid unit."

"Let him go," an authoritative male voice pronounced. Vic was released immediately.

Vic scrambled the few feet, on his hands and knees, to where Mac lay in Jason Tell's arms.

"Get away from him!" He gathered Mac into his arms and out of Jason's grasp. Vic held Mac as Jason rose to his feet. Vic gingerly touched a blossom of blood that stained the front of Mac's jacket high on the shoulder. Mac stared at Vic but his eyes were unfocused.

"You're fine, Mac. You're going to be fine." Vic rocked him slightly as he held him.

The Director knelt beside him, and offered the long, silk scarf she had been wearing under the collar of her coat. "Our aid unit is only a few minutes away."

Vic took the scarf and put it inside Mac's jacket, pressing it against the wound to stanch the flow of blood.

Mac winced at the pressure, and looked up at Vic. It was as if he really saw him for the first time.

"Jason," he said in a labored voice. "Is Jason okay?"

"What the hell do I care?" Vic snapped. "How are you?"

The Director reached out and brushed Mac's hair away from his forehead. "Jason is fine, Mac," she told him in a remarkably soothing tone. "You did a very good job. He's just fine."

Vic looked at her, startled by the unexpected care.

"Keep him calm, Victor. Keep yourself calm for him."

He knew she was right. He hated her for being right. He hated himself for feeling this scared. He nodded his agreement.

"Vic?" Mac moved slightly in his grasp and tried to turn his head and look at his shoulder. The act made him groan. He turned back to Vic, his eyes large with panic. "Vic is this going to leave a scar?"

Vic laughed at Mac's ability to be vain at the most inappropriate times. The laugh, however, threatened to turn into a sob. "No," he lied, and held Mac a little closer.

"'Cause I don't have any scars," Mac told him.

"I know you don't Mac." Vic kissed him on the temple.

"I don't want any scars." Mac's voice was growing weaker and his eyes less focused. It was clear he was going into shock.

"I need a minute with you." It was the same male voice that had released Vic from the Swat Team. Vic looked up at a tall blond man in dark slacks, white shirt and a flack vest. He was obviously the RCMP officer in-charge of this raid.

The Director nodded to him. "I'll be there in a minute, Randy."

The sound of siren's made her look past Victor towards the door. She reached out and this time brushed his hair back from his forehead. It was a rare occasions that she was this gentle and concerned with him. Each time, like now, he knew she was sincere. "That's our aid unit." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll meet you at the Agency medical center." She stood up and walked away.

Mac watched her go and then grabbed at Vic's jacket. "You're not going, too? You're going to stay, aren't you?"

"I'm going to be right here, Mac." Vic reassured him, but Mac wasn't listening.

"I didn't go with my mom in the ambulance when they took her to the hospital. I stayed behind to get some of our stuff out before the landlord threw us out."

"I'm not going to leave you, Mac."

"When I got to the hospital she said she was scared in the ambulance. She said she'd seen ambulances go by with the lights on and the sirens going, and never thought anything of it. But when she was inside, and the sirens and the lights were for her, she was scared."

"I'll be with you, Mac." Vic fought hard to get the words out, and hide the tightness that ached in his throat. "I'll always be with you, no matter what."

Mac looked up at him, his eyes large and glassy. "I don't want to go alone in the ambulance. I don't want to be scared."

Vic held him tight and pressed a kiss against his soft hair. "You never have to be afraid. I will always be there with you."

###

Elliot saw Jason half way across the parking lot and jogged to catch up with him. In the confusion and drama of getting Mac into the Agency Medic Unit, and seeing that Jake was taken to a city hospital he'd lost track of Jason. He had been in the mix of people around Elliot up until Mac was put into the ambulance. When the mood had settled and the press began to arrive Elliot looked around for him and he was gone. He'd escaped injury, but Elliot was certain today's events had taken its toll.

Elliot ran up to Jason and fell in step beside him. "Jason where are you going?"

"I don't know." He kept walking. "What does it matter?"

Elliot grabbed his arm and made him stop. "I want our medics to check you out."

"I don't... ." He looked at Elliot and stopped speaking. The look was of some profound hurt that Elliot couldn't fathom. He acted as if he wanted to say more, but turned abruptly and walked away.

Elliot caught up with him again and spun him around, holding him by the shoulders. "Jason, I put a lot of things in motion for you. You can't just walk on me."

He jerked away. "What? Are you going to take credit for saving my life? That's a typical agent move. Mac did that, not you. Now, he's on his way to a hospital." He gestured off towards the entrance of the industrial park. "I need to find him, thank him, and do something for him." He started to walk again.

Elliot ran a few paces and stepped in front of him. Jason tried to dodge around him, but Elliot blocked him and he eventually stopped.

"What are you going to do, walk to the hospital?"

"If I have to." Jason tried again to step around him.

Elliot was able to counter him again. Finally, Jason stopped and turned his back on him.

"Look, man, you're really more upset than you realize. What happened in there was pretty damn frightening. If you want to see Mac let me drive you to the hospital."

Jason turned and shoved Elliot in the chest nearly knocking him down.

"Why don't you go drive Canlan? He's over there sitting in your car waiting for you." His arm jerked out and he stabbed his finger back towards the studio. "Don't let me stop you from showing him how it's done. Go make him a star."

"You heard?" Elliot swallowed, "How did... You were there?"

"I came back for my jacket." Jason shoved him again. "I came back just in time to learn what an ass I was to believe you."

His hand came up again, but Elliot grabbed his wrist and twisted it, not enough to hurt, just enough to stop him.

"You're not thinking right. I told you at the hotel that this is what I do."

"What, screw people over?" Jason shook himself free, and took a step back.

When Elliot was satisfied he wasn't going to leave he said, "I had to get Canlan down here so the RCMP could pick him up as an accessory. The plan was to expose the pornography operation using Canlan as a witness."

Jason threw up his hands. "God, you can't even keep your lies straight. You told me the plan was to get evidence on insider trading. I was going to be the witness."

"That was one plan." Elliot shrugged. "I didn't know there was this master plan at work." He ran his hand over his mouth. "I should have known there would be, but I didn't."

"I did what you asked." Jason's eyes narrowed. "It almost cost me my life. I kept my part of the bargain, now leave me the hell alone!"

"Let me keep my part." Elliot reached for his arm and he jerked away. "Jason, give me a chance. I don't want you to leave."

"Bet you don't. Wouldn't want to lose the body count in your harem." He began to pace, staccato steps, in front of Elliot. "How many guys are you stringing along, one dozen maybe two?" His movements grew more frenzied and red flushed across his cheeks.

"Jason you need to calm down. You're stressing out from what happened to you. I'm afraid you might be going into shock. Let me get you checked out, and then you can do whatever you want."

He stopped suddenly and stared at Elliot. His large eyes flashed with a dark anger.

"You don't have to fake concern for me anymore."

"It's not faked!" Elliot jerked his hands up, but stopped before he touched him again. His hands steepled, palms together between them. 'He doesn't know what he's doing', Elliot kept repeating to himself. Elliot had been in more volatile situations and won trust. Why, though, did this guy always make him feel so desperate and out of control. He could handle this. His life was making people do what he wanted.

"Jason, you're upset, and probably still afraid."

"I'm not afraid of you, you fucking pimp."

The words were like a blow. The hurt that welled up, exploded into anger.

"That's it!" Elliot took one step and hooked Jason's leg, at the same moment pulling his left arm behind his head and bending him forward. He pulled handcuffs from his pocket with his free hand and snapped one on Jason's right wrist as he flailed to break free.

"I know you don't think so now, but I'm doing this for your own good." Jason was strong and putting up a good fight, Elliot struggled to get the other handcuff on.

"Kiss Canlan for his own good, you prick." Jason twisted in Elliot's grasp and broke free. He turned and shoved Elliot backwards. "I saw you kiss him."

Elliot quickly got his footing after the blow, but backed up as he saw the anger color Jason's face.

"He was just an assignment. It's what I do."

Jason was coming for him; stiff legged and fists clenched.

"I saw you kiss him." he repeated, as if it were the only truth in the world.

"Jason, you don't want to fight me." He was nearly on him. Elliot planted his feet and waited for impact.

"I saw you kiss him."

"You'll see him kiss a lot of people if you work with him."

Both men jumped at the sound of the Director's voice.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Elliot drew out the words as his startled heart raced. "God I hate it when you just appear."

"Actually, I didn't just appear, but you tomcats were too busy hissing at each other to notice."

"Who are you?" Jason's voice was a strained pant.

"I'm his boss." She pointed at Elliot. "Yours too if you accept my offer."

"You mean that?" Elliot asked.

The Director gave him a curt nod. "Mr. Tell, Elliot has already given you more information about the Agency than he has any right to."

"It was true?" Jason shook his head in disbelief.

"Oh, yes." The Director arched one perfect eyebrow. "Section Six takes up far too much of my time. That's because I have no facilitator for that unit. I think you could be of value to us in that position. You are smart, resourceful and up till now I thought you could stand to work with Elliot." She waved her hand dismissing the last thought. "Harmony has never been a necessity for my teams to succeed.

You will be compensated with a nice, livable apartment, the car of your choice and a comfortable expense account. All I ask in return is your very best work, unwavering loyalty and obedience."

Elliot took Jason's hand and he didn't resist. "Jason you can start over. DelMar is not a threat to you anymore. This is all I can offer you, a place in the Agency. I think it will be a good place for you."

The Director reached out and shook the open handcuff dangling from Jason's wrist. "Elliot, take this off. What were you going to do, drag him off and make him work for you? I gave up that recruitment technique with Mac Ramsey, because we all know how that turned out." She glanced at her Cartier watch. "Speaking of my problem child, we need to go the medical center and check on him. I want an estimate of how long he's going to be sitting around watching soap operas, collecting the Agency's money and not working."

"Your concern is under whelming." Elliot told her as he scrambled to get the handcuff key from his pants pocket. He unhooked the steel bracelet. Jason stepped away immediately holding his wrist with his other hand.

"Since when is Mac at the top of your priority list, Elliot?" The Director snapped her fingers three times. "Come now Mr. Tell, this is a limited-time offer. Are you on board?"

The silver Mercedes Elliot had been driving pulled up beside them. Dobrinsky lowered the driver's window.

"Where's the car?" The Director asked. "Why are you driving this one?"

"Because it's mine. Hi, Sport." He grinned at Elliot.

The Director leaned her head back and crossed her arms. "Elliot! Not again?"

Elliot shrugged. "I was bored."

"I promise you Sport; you won't be when I get my turn with you." Dobrinsky winked at him.

"This is just the sort of thing I don't want to have to deal with. A facilitator would prevent these pranks, or he'd wished he had." The Director stepped around the front of the car to the passenger door. She opened it and stood looking over the roof of the car. "Get in the car, Elliot." She nodded towards the back door of the sedan. "Mr. Tell are you interested in a career of correcting Elliot's mistakes? Do I have a new employee?"

"Where's Canlan?" Jason motioned towards Satyr Video. "He was in this car waiting for Elliot. I saw him."

"I know, and you saw Elliot kiss him." The Director sighed. "He's going to be taken into custody by the police, but first our agent, Mr. Pearson, is going to feed him to the press and let the future Prime Minister's nephew tell the sad tale of his descent into the skin trade. By the way, Pearson feels a need to apologize to you for his role in all this." She tapped her glossy, manicured nails on the roof of the car. "Suddenly all my agents contract scruples. What's a Director to do?" She snapped her fingers again. "We are leaving. Your choice, Mr. Tell." She disappeared inside the car and shut the door.

Jason didn't move. Elliot could practically see the energy drain from him. The anger that had charged him had run down to a visible trembling. This was a hell of a time to ask someone to make a life choice, but he knew there would be no second chances. If he didn't go with them Elliot knew he needed to stay and convince Jason that he had to see a doctor.

"Jason, you said that you wanted me to be around long enough to find out if I liked you, too. I already know that I do." Elliot extended his hand. "Give this a chance. I need to have someone with me I can trust. You do, too. We can learn to trust each other."

Jason shook his head no. "What about Canlan? Did he learn to trust you?"

Elliot pointed both hands at him. "Canlan was a job." His voice rose to a frustrated climax. "I tried to make you just a job, but you wouldn't let me. There was something in you, some missing part of me that I recognized from the beginning. You had that moment too. I saw it in your eyes. That's the big difference, though, I've only seen it. I never felt it myself, before you."

Jason looked around. A confused frown creased his forehead. "I don't know what to say."

"Say yes. Just say yes for now. Give it a couple of months, and if you don't like it, I swear to God, I'll get you out." He offered his hand again.

Jason looked away, but then turned back to Elliot. His shoulders sank, and for a moment Elliot thought he was going to have to catch him when he passed out. Slowly, he raised his hand, his movements as limp as a rag doll.

As soon as his intent was clear Elliot grabbed his hand and wrapped a steadying arm around his waist. The man leaned into him.

"Come on, I'll get you into the Agency ER and then you can stay with me until you get an apartment assigned."

Jason leaned away and looked at Elliot. His large hazel eyes were dark and sad. "I can't give you the kind of sex you're used to. I don't know if I ever can."

Elliot touched the side of his face. "Do you really think this is just about sex?"

After a long hesitation Jason shook his head no. "That's what scares me."

Elliot smiled. "You think you're scared? What's important now is that we've got each other when it gets too scary."

Jason managed a weak smile, but then rested his forehead on Elliot's cheek. "I don't think I can stand up much longer."

Dobrinksy sprang out of the car and opened the door. He helped Elliot get Jason into the back seat. Just before Elliot stepped in Dobrinsky slapped him on the back.

"I like him, Sport. He has potential. We're going to get along just fine. Especially, after I teach him how to be a good facilitator."

"What?" That's right. Dobrinsky was the chief facilitator for the Agency. A desperate little voice screamed in Elliot's head. 'There goes paradise.'

"Get in the car Elliot." The Director snapped her fingers. "I won't tell you again."

###

Part Twelve

Vic held Mac's hand while he slept. The hospital bed had been elevated, and Mac rested at an angle facing Vic. He was still unconscious from the operation to repair his shoulder. Tubes ran in and out of him and machines hummed near the bed keeping track of his vital signs. The Doctor, who brought Vic into the room after the operation, had said all the information was being monitored at the station in the hallway. Someone would attend to Mac in a matter of seconds if anything went wrong. Then she had smiled, and assured him that nothing would happen. Mac was going to be fine. There was therapy ahead and a certain amount of pain when he awoke, but, fortunately, no permanent damage. She had moved a chair from the corner of the room, and placed it by the bed.

Vic let her coax him to sit, and when she left he took Mac's hand and held it gently. Mac's words pulsed in his head, till it felt his heart kept rhythm to them. 'Don't leave me, Vic.' Mac had said as he was raised into the ambulance. 'Don't leave me alone.' Vic was beginning to understand that those words entailed more than just the ride to the hospital. He brought Mac's limp hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss there. It still scared him how easily he could have lost Mac. Not just to the bullet that had torn through his flesh, but from his own selfish game that he had played with Elliot. Vic squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of how he had pushed Mac into those acts with that hustler, all because he wanted Elliot's attention. He'd set in motion a terrible scenario that Mac had tried to ignore for such a long time. What had he said, eight months? It didn't seem that long. Vic could hardly imagine the pain he'd caused Mac in that span. How he had thoughtlessly made Mac swallow his self-respect as he found each clue to his betrayal.

Vic admitted to himself, for the first time, that he'd only done it because he was flattered. Elliot gave him the attention he craved, but never thought he'd ever gain. Vic shook his head trying to reassure himself that he couldn't be that needy or shallow. There really was more to it, though. Mac never knew, or would believe that he and Elliot spent most of their time together talking about Mac. Vic would bitch and moan about Mac's behavior, or more often his lack of behavior as Elliot listened, only betraying his impatience with the occasional snide remark. Mostly, though, Vic knew he used Elliot as a sounding board. Many of their conversations dealt with vague generalities as Vic danced around his deep-rooted discomfort at being in love with another man. He looked up at Mac as the thought slapped him. That was the only real truth in this whole mess. Vic pressed the back of Mac's hand against his cheek. "I love you, Mac," he whispered.

Mac stirred slightly. His eyes twitched beneath closed lids as he swallowed and licked his lips. Slowly he turned his head and groaned.

"Mac?" Vic squeezed his hand in both of his. "How do you feel, Mac?"

Mac winced, and still didn't open his eyes. "This is fucked." The words came out in a labored rush.

"Do you want me to get the doctor?" Vic looked around for the call bell. When he didn't see it he released Mac's hand and started to stand. "I'll get the doctor. She'll get you something for the pain."

Mac grabbed his sleeve to stop him. "I don't need a doctor." His eyes were open now, and lit with a manic fire. "Don't leave."

Vic let Mac pull him back down to sit once more.

"I heard you say it." The words came from Mac like the confirmation of a vow.

"I meant it. You have plenty of reasons not to believe me, but I really do love you." Vic grasped Mac's hand.

"I'm the main reason you shouldn't."

"What? Don't say shit like that."

"It's because I can't say, you know, it, that you went to Elliot."

Vic squeezed Mac's hand. "I told you, it's my problem. I'm weak and stupid. I... ."

"You're not stupid! If Elliot, or the Director told you that I'll fucking kick their ass!" Mac slammed his freehand down onto the bed beside him. The effort cost him. He closed his eyes and groaned as he turned his face away from Vic.

Vic stood immediately and gingerly touched Mac's head. "I'll get the doctor. I'll get you something to fix this." Mac's hand closed on his wrist before he could move.

"I'm the only one who can fix this." He turned slowly back to look at Vic, his eyes heavy lidded, but alert.

Vic sat down, but kept his hand near Mac's head, his fingers gently stroking through Mac's thick hair. "You have nothing to fix. This whole mess is my fault, and I'm sorry. You don't know how sorry I am Mac." He watched Mac's lips nearly forming words as he waited for the opportunity to speak. "We don't have to talk about this now." Vic smiled trying to reassure him. "You just need to rest and get well, and... ."

"I have to tell you now!" Mac snagged the front of Vic's shirt and balled the denim in his fist. "I have to tell you now, or I never will. You think I'm selfish."

"No I don't." Vic reached out to calm him.

"Yes you do. I know the list by heart. You told me to my face." Mac's eyes were wide now, and shining. "I'm self-centered, irresponsible, egotistical, immature... ."

Vic raised his hand to stop him. "That was before. That was before us."

"I'm still the same! I still can't say it, but it's not because I don't feel it."

"I know how you feel about me, about us, Mac. You don't need to talk about this. You need to rest." Vic straightened the blanket that covered Mac, but he was stopped. When he looked up Mac's jaw was set with a desperate determination.

"I have to tell you. I have to make you understand why I can't say it. It's not because I'm self-centered. It's because I'm afraid." His voice broke on the last word, and one of the tears that glistened along the rim of his eyes escaped.

"Oh Mac." The words were little more than a whispered moan. Vic brushed Mac's cheek with his hand, and wiped away the tear. "You don't need to do this."

"I have to." The urgency returned to his voice. "I don't know what they gave me, but I can do this now."

"Mac... ."

"Just listen to me for once. You're so like the Director. The two of you always think you know what's best." He pounded a finger into his own chest. "I survived on my own since I was twelve. That didn't happen because I'm a fool. Yeah, I talk too much, and I act like I've got the hots for myself. That doesn't mean I don't understand what's going on, or that I don't see every detail of a situation. There are other ways to end up being the smartest guy in the room, different ways from you, and Elliot, and the Director. That doesn't make me wrong Vic. It just means I'm not you."

"I've never thought you were a fool, Mac." He reached out, but Mac grabbed his wrist.

"Just listen to me." He squeezed his eyes shut as a frustrated frown creased his forehead. "Let me tell you while I still can."

Vic nodded and Mac let loose of his wrist. Vic leaned his arms on the bed rail, and rested his chin on the back of his hands. Mac looked at him, a long, steady serious look that said he was about to do something that he'd never done before. The fear of what might come from it radiated between the two of them like an intruding demon. Vic was locked in his gaze.

"My Dad told me a story when I was a kid. He wanted to take me with him to pull some scam. I wanted to stay with my Mom. He told me I was acting like a girl, and he wouldn't have it."

Vic looked away. The pain in Mac's eyes was too much. He reached for Mac's hand and held it between his own. He rested his cheek against the long fingers as Mac continued.

"He told me the story about the Panda and the goddess. The panda wasn't always this roly-poly joker that we all think is so fucking cute. When the world started the panda was sleek and predatory, like the tiger. He competed with the tiger for food. One day he saw a woman standing in the forest. She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. But in a blink she was gone. The Panda searched all through the forest. He didn't sleep. He stopped hunting for everything, but the beautiful woman. He would see her in the distance, or look behind him, and she would be standing there only to disappear as soon as he reached her. Then one day, when he was nearly dead from exhaustion, he saw her standing by a pool. When he approached she didn't disappear. Instead, she gave him water to drink, and bamboo to eat. He took what she offered, then rested at her feet. He was overcome by the feelings he had for her. When he looked up at her she was smiling at him. She told him, 'Say it. Say the words.' The panda had no choice because the feelings were too strong." Mac swallowed. "He had to say it. She made him say it. He said, 'I love you.'" Mac's voice tightened, threatening to break on the last word.

Vic didn't look up. He let his own silent tears flow over Mac's trembling hand.

Mac cleared his throat. "Then he saw the fangs show, and the stripes spread over the woman's skin. This was the tiger goddess. She only made the panda love her so he wouldn't compete for the tiger's food. From that day on the panda sat at her feet eating bamboo, and growing fat and foolish." Mac sniffed. "That was the only thing my father ever taught me, besides how to take a mark. He told me that love steals everything from you until you're just a fool, like the panda. It all happened to the panda because he told the goddess he loved her."

Vic pressed a kiss against the back of Mac's hand. "You're not that kid anymore, Mac. No matter how your father tried to manipulate and twist you. You're a good person inside. I know that."

"No." Mac pulled his hand away. "I lived my life that way. I had to. When I got into the Tang family I had to prove and reprove myself because I wasn't Chinese. I had to be arrogant, and act like I didn't care about anything or anybody because there was always somebody who thought he could take my place with the godfather." He jerked his hand up to cover his eyes as his mouth contorted with a sob.

Vic reached up and stroked his hair again. "Mac that's over. You're with us now, with LiAnn and me. You don't have to fight those battles anymore."

Mac slammed his hand down on the bed, anger mingling with the tears. "It'll never be over because I could never say it. A fortuneteller told the Godfather that he would have a second son who wasn't of his flesh, but was from his heart. I was that son." He stabbed a finger at his chest. "But I never told him how I felt. He died in my arms, Vic, and I couldn't tell him I loved him." His hand went over his face, and he sobbed aloud.

Vic jerked the bed railing down, and pulled Mac into his arms. "You can't blame yourself for some twisted message your father implanted in you." He rested his cheek against the crown of Mac's head as he shuddered against him.

Mac pushed away suddenly, his eyes bright and troubled. "Then I met you." He shook his head with disbelief. "I fought as hard as I could against you. I didn't run after you like the panda. I ran the other way. It didn't matter. You trapped me all the same."

"It's not the same at all," Vic's tone rose in protest.

Mac grabbed his shirt again. "I wish you could understand. I wish you knew the power you have over me. You're the tiger goddess, and I'm just some foolish, fat panda sitting at your feet; grateful for anything you give me."

Vic pried Mac's fingers away from his shirt, then held them against his lips as he spoke. "You have just as much power over me, Mac. We're both pandas who have been chasing the wrong person. Each of us has finally found someone who won't trick us."

Mac opened his hand and cupped Vic's cheek. "I won't make you say it anymore."

Vic smiled, fighting back his own tears. "I always meant it."

Mac bit his lip, and looked away for a moment. Then his dark eyes fixed on Vic. "I do love you."

"Step away from the bed, Mr. Mansfield." The doctor's crisp, authoritative tone made Vic jump.

"Don't go, Vic." Mac swiped at his nose with the back of his hand.

"Just step back so I can take a look at him." She tapped Vic on the shoulder, and he scooted his chair towards the foot of the bed. She handed Mac a tissue. "It's not the best thing for you to be upset right now, Mac."

"I'm fine." Mac tried to wave her off. "I want him to stay."

"He's not leaving, and neither am I," the Doctor told him in a smooth monotone as she inserted the ends of her stethoscope into her ears.

"What's wrong?" Vic asked her, his hand resting on the blanket covering Mac's leg.

"His pulse rate jumped on the monitors." She placed the scope's disk on Mac's chest and listened for a moment. She stepped away, removing the stethoscope from her ears. A nurse entered the room. He walked to the far side of the bed, and checked the IV that fed into Mac's arm.

The doctor looked at Vic. "This isn't unusual. Sometimes people become agitated when they come out of anesthetic."

"Yeah?" Mac made the one word ring with sarcasm. "And sometimes people become agitated when you interrupt them."

The Doctor turned back to him and smiled. "Aren't you the pleasant one?" She looked at the nurse. "How much did I say?"

The young man stopped as he was filling a hypodermic needle. "Ten CCs," he responded.

"Make it fifteen."

He filled the needle, and had it in the shunt to the IV as Mac tried to lean forward, waving a hand to stop him. "I don't want any of that crap."

The doctor placed her hand squarely on his chest and pushed him back down. "Count to ten, Mac, and I guarantee things will seem a whole lot better."

"I don't want things better. I want them the way they are." His voice slowed as the last words came out. He appeared to relax. The doctor raised her hand away from his chest as he gave a deep sigh, and stared at her.

"Better?" she asked.

"Okay," he said slowly as if he hadn't really understood the question.

The doctor turned to Vic. "He will probably fall asleep soon. That's nothing to worry about."

Vic glanced at Mac who had settled back on his pillow. He knew the doctor was just doing her job. He also knew that Mac had grown more and more upset as they talked. But like Mac, he knew they hadn't finished and wished they'd been given more time to talk. Reluctantly he nodded and prepared to move closer to Mac as the doctor walked away.

The nurse intruded and jerked the bed railing up. "Don't take this down again." He said in a matter-of-fact tone. He nearly jumped when he saw the scowl on Vic's face. "He could fall out of bed." The young man tried to explain.

"Do I look like somebody who is going to let him fall out of bed?" Vic snarled.

"There are procedures," he countered, half-heartedly.

"Go inflict your procedures on somebody else."

The young man flushed as he backed towards the door. "You agents all think you run the world."

"We run this world." Vic jerked the bed rail down and stared at him.

"Bunch of psychopaths," the nurse mumbled angrily as he walked out the door.

"Fucker," Mac slurred out the word as he watched the nurse retreat.

Vic sat down quickly beside him, and took his hand again. "How you doing?"

"I didn't want this stuff," Mac protested, blinking at Vic like a stoned owl.

"I know."

"I just wanted you to understand that I don't act the way I do on purpose." He narrowed his eyes for a moment. "Well, I do act that way on purpose, but sometimes I don't mean it." He raised his fist and brought it down on the bed. The gesture had little of the force it did only moments ago. "I don't know what I mean anymore." He tossed his head in frustration. "How can I make you understand when I sound so fucked up, even to me?"

Vic stroked his hair and smiled. "We have a lot of time to tell each other how we feel, and make each other understand." He cupped the side of Mac's face with his hand. "We've got a lot of bamboo to eat together, panda."

Mac laughed, a silly, drugged giggle. "I love you, Vic. Even when I can't say it, I still love you."

Vic leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. He repeated the act until he didn't want to stop. Finally, he leaned back in his chair. Mac produced that mischievous smile that infuriated him so in the beginning, and now tore at his self-control.

"I love you, Xiongmao." The smile faded and was replaced by a troubled scowl. "I'm not going to remember any of this, am I?"

"It doesn't matter, Mac. I'll remember it all. I'll remember it forever."

###

Victor reached into his pants pocket to get change for the vending machine. Even before his fingers were completely into the envelope of fabric he remembered he didn't have any coin. He'd gone through his usual drill before a mission. He had emptied his pockets of anything that might make noise, and placed it on the dashboard of the car. The car was probably in the agency garage, and detailed by now. The chance of getting his change back was nonexistent, and Dobrinsky would hold onto his keys just to teach him a lesson. Vic had learned the lesson the first time, and now had several sets of keys squirreled away.

Vic looked at the coffee machine to see if it had a change dispenser, as he still had his wallet. Of course there wasn't one; exact change only. He leaned his forehead against the smooth, cool face of the machine, and realized for the first time that he was shaking.

"Is it out of order?" Elliot asked, as he stood in the doorway of the small vending machine room.

Vic flinched at the unexpected voice. He turned and smiled wanly. "I don't have any change." He held out his empty palms.

Elliot stepped beside him, and pulled out a hand full of change. "How's Mac doing?" he asked while he plugged coins into the machine.

"Ah... He's... He's going to be okay. The bullet tore up some muscle, but didn't do any major damage." His voice dropped off. Then he thought of something else. Since he'd left Mac his mind seemed to be working in fits and starts. "He's got a lot of ... ah ... drugs in him. He's pretty out of it. In fact he's asleep right now. Umm... LiAnn is sitting with him so he won't be alone if he wakes up. Actually, she kicked me out. Said I needed a break."

"Black, right?" Elliot pointed at the vending machine.

"No, break. What?"

"Your coffee. You like it black?

Vic suddenly realized what Elliot had been doing. "You don't have to buy me coffee."

Elliot looked at him, his dark eyes searching Vic's face. He put a hand on Vic's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Vic tried to smile, but it felt like little more than a grimace. "Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?" The words trailed off as he looked away.

"Hey," Elliot gently gathered him into his arms.

Vic went willingly, and held the other man as tightly as he was being held. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never wanted it to end the way it did."

"I know." Elliot rubbed a hand up and down his back.

It was magic the way he could make Vic relax immediately. "I just had to do that for Mac... ."

"I know," Elliot told him again. "I said things too. You were never a mistake."

Vic pulled away, but kept a hand on his arm. "I don't regret any time I ever spent with you. I never meant to hurt Mac or betray him, but I don't regret being with you."

Elliot nodded. "Life's full of complicated, unsatisfying compromise."

Vic understood the words, but was too tired to even try and grasp the meaning. He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Elliot laughed. "I meant me too. I don't have any regrets either." He cupped Vic's cheek in his palm, but Vic winced and ducked his head away.

"Sorry," he said, as he brought his own hand up to cover the bruised side of his face. "I'm still sore."

"Has anybody checked you out?" Elliot took his arm. "I'll take you down to the ER."

Vic rolled his arm out of Elliot's grasp. "It'll go away. Besides, I had a hard enough time trying to explain why Mac was strangled and shot."

"They must not know him."

A hysterical laugh escaped, and Vic was afraid he was too exhausted to make it stop. He turned quickly, and took a few steps away from Elliot. After a second of struggling to compose himself he turned back. A smile still played on his lips.

"You're the only guy I've ever been able to talk with about Mac, about what happened to us."

"You make it sound like an accident, a train wreck."

Another laugh broke free. "It is, sometimes." Vic scrubbed his fists into his eyes. "Oh." He dragged the word out into an exaggerated plea as he tried to exorcise himself of his fatigue. He lowered his hands, and looked at Elliot.

"I'm not making much sense right now, but I'm trying to tell you thanks."

Elliot studied him for a long moment, and then shrugged. "No need to thank me. You are the most... ." He stopped in mid-sentence, and shook his head. "No need to."

"We can still be friends," Vic said quickly.

"We always will be. If you ever need anything I'll be there for you."

"I'm there too, man." Vic clapped him on the shoulder. "You know we can still play racket ball, and shoot some pool together."

Elliot took Vic's hand from his shoulder, and held it for a moment, then released him. "We can't be casual friends, Vic."

"Sure we can." Vic smiled. He could imagine that he looked foolish and desperate. He couldn't help it. The realization that Elliot wouldn't be around to be his sounding board was too much to accept. "We had some fun together, like when we went hiking, or the time you took me to that Blue's festival in Banff."

"Yes, and we had some damn hot sex too. Remember?"

Vic fought not to blurt out 'I need to talk to you sometimes. When it gets too confusing, and I have no point of reference, I need to listen to someone who knows what it means to love another man.'

"That's not the point. You... you're... you're my touchstone, Elliot."

"Call me whenever you want. You know my home number, cell phone and pager."

"Is that all I get?"

Elliot held up a hand to stop him. "Vic I'm trying to be honest with you. I can't be with you and not want to touch you, kiss you," his hand fell to his side, "and make you come."

"Is this because of ... ah...?" Vic slammed his fist against his leg. "I can't remember his name."

"Jason."

"Yeah, Jason. Are you abandoning me because you met him?"

"Abandoning? For Christ's sake, Victor, you're the one who told me that we couldn't see each other any more."

"That was the sex. I owe that to Mac. It doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"You're tired, and this conversation is going in circles. We both owe ourselves the chance to find out if we have something special with these guys."

Vic dipped his head. "You're right." He looked up at Elliot. "All I've ever wanted, besides being a cop, was to have somebody love me. I just never, ever thought it would be another guy. But you," Vic shook his hand at him, "you grew up knowing that was a possibility." He looked away. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing most of the time."

Elliot took him by the shoulders. "I meant it when I said to call me. You're not alone and I'm not abandoning you. When you need to talk about that... Mac, I'll be there to listen."

"What about this Jason? He's not going to want me to call you."

"He's going to know from the beginning that he has to accept my friends."

Vic wrapped his arms around Elliot's waist and hugged him tight. "Thanks." He moved out of the hug. "And don't tell me I don't need to thank you. I owe you so much for so many things."

"You can thank me for one more thing. I'm taking you down to the ER, and have them look you over. You could have a concussion. Jason is being kept overnight for observation because he has a concussion from DelMar slapping him around."

"Yeah? Well, I've got a thick head, you've told me so a million times."

"I never said you were thick. Stubborn, yes. Very stubborn like now, but never thick."

"You think this Jason is special?"

"I think there's a very good possibility."

"This was like love at first sight?"

"Who would have thought that could happen to a whore like me, huh?"

Vic hooked his hand around Elliot's neck. "I didn't mean that. I should have never said it. I was mad because you and Mac wouldn't stop bitching at each other. You deserve to find somebody special. I just hope that ... that..."

"Jason."

"Yeah, that Jason deserves you."

"We'll have to see how things play out. Right now we need to get you to a doctor."

"I'll take care of Victor." The Director stood imperious in the doorway.

"I'm taking Vic to the ER." Elliot put his arm around Vic's waist.

"You're going to sit with Jason." The Director walked into the room, then made an ushering motion towards the door. "They've moved him into a room, and you need to talk to him and keep him awake for awhile."

Vic moved out of Elliot's grasp. "Go on." He smiled. "Go on and take care of him."

"You need to... ."

"I'll get there."

Elliot nodded, but didn't move.

The Director cocked her head. "Say goodbye, Elliot."

"Right." A sad smile barely moved his lips as he turned towards Vic. "I guess that's all there's left to say."

Vic moved to him, and took his face in his hands. He kissed him long and hard trying to put into this one, last kiss all the gratitude, admiration and attraction he felt for this man.

Elliot stared at him for a long moment. He drew his finger across Vic's lips. He smiled once more, then turned and walked away.

Vic watched him go. Part of him wanted to run after Elliot and make him promise, again, that he would always just be a phone call away. Because another part of him knew that if this Jason was the one, he'd never see Elliot again. He turned suddenly and stared at the back wall of the little room, trying to fight the fatigue and fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He gulped in some air to steady himself, and hoped that when he turned around the Director wouldn't be poking at all his sore spots. He knew he had so many, and she had such perfect aim.

"You here to work me over about Mac, Elliot, Ivy, the mission, what?" He barked out a harsh laugh. "Because I think circumstances have beat you to it."

"I'm here to pay my debts."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Vic turned towards the coffee machine, that Elliot had filled with change, and pushed the button for black coffee.

"You told me that after this assignment was completed I owed you a long, expensive vacation."

Vic laughed. "Since when do you listen to me?" He picked the cup of hot coffee out of vending machine, and turned towards her.

"I listen to you far more than you think, Victor."

"I think you don't listen to me at all, so any increase is not very impressive."

The Director folded her arms and frowned. "You are in no condition to verbally spare with me. So, just listen."

"This I understand." Vic raised the paper cup in a toast. "Now, you are being your usual tyrannically charming self."

The Director rolled her eyes and let a derisive sigh escape. "If I ever showed you my true tyrannically charming self, it would leave you a pillar of salt. Now, shut up and listen." She took a step towards him. "My sources tell me that since Stephan Canlan is already the lead story with every news agency in North America his Uncle, Roger Canlan, will resign by the end of the week."

Victor stared into his cup. "Great. Score one for the shadow government."

"And one for you. First, I want a doctor to see you," she gave a disgusted glance towards the door, "because Elliot may be right." She returned her gaze to Vic. "Then when you and Mac are deemed well enough to travel, and his doctor thinks that will be about three days, sooner if he starts to complain as Mac usually does, you will accompany Mac to the Agency airfield. One of our jets will be waiting. You can spend your vacation on an island the agency owns."

"Where, in the Bering Straits?" He took another swallow of coffee.

"Victor, please. No one likes you when you're surly. Try the Bahamas. The place masquerades as an exclusive getaway for the rich and famous, but we run it all. Mac needs to recuperate, and I've decided that you need to take care of him while he does."

Vic's head jerked up. "I can't take care of him! He's going to need medical attention, physical therapy. I'm no nurse."

"He'll get all the medical attention he needs. The staff here is already vying for who gets to make the house calls. This is a luxury resort, Victor. It's not like I'm stranding you on an island with just Mac and a volleyball. Although, if I did, I don't know how we could tell them apart."

"Why are you doing this?"

Her hand came up and her fingers rolled in that familiar dismissive gesture. "Someone has to accompany Mac to make sure there is no attempt at mercy killing while he's being the patient from hell."

Victor shook his head. "Why are you really doing this?"

The Director smiled faintly. "Have I ever told you the real reason I do anything?"

"Let's make this a first. Why?"

The smile faded from her lips. "You've always been a little tightly wound, Victor. That's usually been an asset. You see to the details, and control most situations. I think it's time now to loosen the spring a bit."

Vic barked out a surprised laugh. "You think I'm losing it?"

"I think you don't realize how valuable you are, and I don't tell you often enough."

"Try never."

"You told me I owe you a long, expensive vacation. Well here it is. This is a reward. Something I realize that I need to visit upon you more often."

"So, this means what?" Victor held out his free hand. "Now you're going to tell me how you intend to manipulate me before you do it? Is this your new all carrots no stick style of management."

The Director stiffened and fixed him with a cold stare. "This is my way of paying my debts. There is always a stick handy. Just appreciate the carrots when I do offer them."

Vic leaned against the coffee machine, and lowered his head. "Debts, huh? That's what you said when we started this pointless conversation. Good to see nothings changed. We're right back where we started from, and I still don't know what the hell you're trying to do to me." He heard the rustle of her coat, and the clicks as she traveled the short distance between them in her high heels. She held her hand out, offering it to him.

"Let me take you to the ER."

He hesitated. Then slipped his hand into the firm, warm grasp of her long fingers. She took the coffee cup with her free hand, and tossed it into the trash.

"I don't know how you can drink the swill that comes out of those machines."

He let her lead him towards the door. A profound calm, which he thought could just be exhaustion, settled on him. He knew if he let her, she would look after things for him from this point on. It was an odd feeling to allow someone to take care of him. He was always out there doing, seeing to things, fixing situations, and righting wrongs. What was it he felt right now? Trust? "God, I must be tired," he mumbled.

"What?" She stopped in the doorway.

"Nothing." She shrugged and they continued out into the hallway.

"You know Victor," The Director told him as they walked towards the ER, "by definition if I tell you what I'm going to make you do it's not really manipulation."

"What is it then, your idea of honesty?"

She laughed and tucked an arm around his waist. "Oh, you have taken too many blows to the head."

###

Part Thirteen

Vic was surprised by how well Mac was doing when they first arrived at the lush tropical island. He was making such a rapid recovery, that Vic had let Mac pester him into going down to the beach for a swim. Mac's doctor, who was staying in the five-star hotel on the other side of the island, had left for the night. She'd given specific instruction that Mac was not to get the wound in his shoulder wet with ocean water. The problem was that she had only given the instruction to Mac. She might as well have told him to plunge in headfirst.

Mac seemed to lose a step the next day, but Vic only thought it was from the unaccustomed exertion. That night Vic had heard talking in the bedroom, and jerked awake. Mac was tossing and turning on the bed next to him. He had mumbled, then a shout exploded from him. He jerked and tossed his head. Vic had reached for him, but even before his hand touched his restless body, Vic could feel the heat radiate off Mac's skin.

Vic had moved his things out of the master bedroom the night the infection set in. The Doctor had a hospital bed moved in for Mac, and had turned the room into a mini sick ward. When Mac complained about the new arrangements she had told him, in no uncertain terms, that was the way it was going to be. It took nearly three weeks to completely rid Mac of the infection. The incision had to be reopened and cleaned. Mac wore a drainage tube for a week.

The contamination put off any physical therapy until well into the second month. Through all of it Vic was by his side. While Mac was weak and sick he comforted him. As he grew stronger Vic was there to encourage him. It was only when Mac was finally on the mend that Vic allowed himself to acknowledge his own needs.

Vic stood just outside the door of one of the many bedrooms of the ocean front colonial mansion that the staff simply called the Beach House. The room now served as a state of the art physical therapy unit complete with an array of exercise machines, monitoring devises and medical equipment. The area was big enough to comfortably accommodate it all. Vic still marveled at how nearly every room in this palatial residence seemed bigger than his whole apartment.

Mac strained at the machine that worked his injured shoulder. Vic dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. 'What the hell's wrong with you,' he shouted in his mind. Vic knew Mac still wasn't one hundred percent. It was apparent by the effort that it cost him as he exercised. That knowledge didn't stop Vic's body from reacting to the sight of Mac sweating and panting as he fought against the pull of the weights.

'God I need a drink,' Vic thought as he wiped his moist palm across his mouth. He'd stopped drinking alcohol almost as soon as they arrived. He knew he had to have maximum control over his body since it seemed to be in a permanent state of arousal. He had actually been grateful for the distance the Doctor imposed between them. Injured, sick, and weakened this was still Mac Ramsey. This was the same man who only had to flash that mischievous, dimpled smile to make Vic's cock jump.

Maybe a swim would take away the maddening desire. It would be his second of the day, and probably not the last. He had already run three miles as soon as the sun was up. Marathon jogs on the beach had become his routine. His exercise regime was now manic and obsessive, but still no cure for the sight of Mac in a sweat stained t-shirt and gym shorts.

Vic squeezed his eyes shut. 'God, you're just a perverted sex addict!' he rebuked himself. Maybe another shower would give him some relief. His dates with the shower massage had become increasingly frequent, as well. He was just waiting for the head housekeeper to ask why he used so many towels. Although, he feared that some of the staff already had a pretty good idea of what was going on. He felt like he was walking around with a big sign that read: "I can't get no satisfaction." Proof was provided by all the unwanted, instant hard-ons. Take one limp dick and just add Mac. Vic hadn't experienced so many 'emergencies' since he was a hormone-tormented teenager.

Well, he had to do something, he decided. He couldn't lurk outside the door and spy on Mac forever. Besides, the cool darkness of the hallway was no antidote for the heat that was building in his body, again.

"Vic!" Too late, Mac had spotted him.

Vic took a step forward, but didn't cross the threshold. He lingered in the relative safety of the hallway where he could make a speedy escape if something... ah... came up.

"Swim," he said quickly as he pointed behind him, in the general direction of the beach. "I'm going for a swim," he added so it wouldn't be taken as an invitation.

Carolyn, Mac's therapist, waved her hand to stop Vic. "Keep going, slacker," she teasingly admonished Mac when it looked like he was going to quit.

She frequently joked with Mac that she hoped he never recovered, because this was the best assignment she'd ever had with the agency. Carolyn was an energetic, wiry woman. LiAnn, during her sole two-day visit to the island, had informed Vic, in a dismissive tone, that Carolyn was a granola type. Vic still wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he knew he liked anyone who could motivate Mac to do his therapy.

Mac's groaning and grimacing suddenly increased. Vic wasn't sure if he was in real pain, or just being a pain to shorten his therapy session.

"Come on, ten more. You've got ten more in you." Carolyn motioned Vic into the room as she counted out the last reps.

He entered reluctantly, and pointed once again in the general direction of the ocean. "I'm just going for a swim."

"You see?" Carolyn said as she handed Mac a towel when he was finished. "Vic doesn't have to be made to exercise."

"I have to get going... ah... the tide. You know." Vic started to back towards the door, wanting to, but not able to look away from the sight of Mac toweling off.

"Take him with you." She pointed at Mac. "A swim would do him good, stretch out his muscles."

"But he's not supposed to go into the ocean," Vic protested. "That's how he got that bad infection."

She waved a hand rejecting his opposition. "There's no chance of that now. The wound is completely healed."

Mac was wiping the sweat from his face as he neared Vic. "He's just afraid I'll show him up," he told Carolyn as his eyes locked on Vic. He radiated a wicked mischief. "I'm a seal in the water, and he's just a flounder." Mac reached out and quickly tweaked one of Vic's nipples through the soft cotton of his shirt.

Vic jerked around, turning his back on Carolyn. He hoped the act had been quick enough to hide the immediate hard-on that tented his shorts. He jumped when the towel hit his butt.

"Go on," Carolyn ordered.

Vic craned his neck to look at Carolyn. He couldn't go with Mac, but he had to think of something to tell her other than the obvious excuse in his pants. Maybe he could escape if he explained that he had to change out of the trunks he was wearing, still had to put on a jock, or get some sunscreen.

Carolyn smiled at him as she gathered up the towel preparing for another strike if he didn't move along. "You guys haven't had any fun together since you got here," she told him.

Vic hesitated. She aimed the towel. There was no choice except to follow Mac to the beach.

Far from being a seal, all Mac wanted to do in the water was horse around. He had pushed past Vic, nearly knocking him down to be the first into the clear blue water.

"I win!" Mac danced proudly in circles, his arms raised like a triumphant prizefighter.

"This isn't a contest," Vic mumbled, as a grumpy frown creased his brow. He waded out until the crystalline water lapped at his waist. He had to start swimming soon. The sun-warmed water was like a silky hand on his body, arousing an annoying pleasure.

Vic jerked as the splash of water drenched the side of his face. It was accompanied by a cackle of amusement from Mac. "What are you, five?" he barked, as he wiped saltwater from his eye.

The smile fell momentarily from Mac's lips, but sprang back with an infuriating smirk. "What are you, fifty?"

Another splash drenched him, and Vic turned away as Mac beat a noisy shower of water his way.

"Come on, Gramps," Mac taunted. "You've got the whole day to sit on the beach and rub Ben-Gay into your rheumatism. Play with me!"

The water prickled over Vic's skin. Anger shot through him, and only served to heighten the heat in his groin. It was like having an itch tickled. If Mac kept up this asshole behavior Vic feared he'd lose control, drag him out of the water, throw him on the sand, and show him what that smart-ass mouth of his was meant to do.

Vic was able to fight the desire to turn around. When he didn't respond to the second round of splashing Mac eventually quit. Vic waited until he was certain that the game was done, and then looked over at Mac. He was moving his long fingers just under the surface of the water, watching as they made ripples and eddies around his hands. Oh this was just great! Mac was in one of his hyper moods. The same guy who turned vegging-out in front of the TV into an Olympic event could become all nervous and twitchy when boredom struck. This didn't happen often, but when it did they had the most incredible, intense sex together. Vic looked away with a jerk of his head. 'You did it again!' he shouted in his mind. 'He's barely well, and all you can think about is sex, sex, and more sex!'

"I'm swimming. Okay?" He said angrily.

"I can swim," Mac said with a shrug. He dove into the clear water and turned on him before Vic could move.

Mac's hands groped up Vic's legs, the ticklish sensation making him jump. The weight of the water slowed Vic's movements, and kept him from blocking Mac. He clumsily thrust his hands under the water towards Mac, in a lame attempt to stop him. The tug was sudden and unexpected. Vic knew it was too late to save himself. His trunks were skinned down to his knees. Mac pulled again, and Vic was able to gulp in a breath just before he was toppled backward into the warm, clear water. He struggled to right himself. Mac was on top of him in a moment, pushing him down to the bottom. Vic flailed, sending up a cloud of glittering sand around them as he tried to push Mac away.

Suddenly, Mac twisted from him, and broke the surface of the water. Vic started to turn, but before he could gain a foothold to stand he felt it. Mac's hand wrapped around his exposed, half-hard cock. The tunneled hand jerked up and down his shaft in three quick strokes. As pleasure mixed with rage, it was all he could do not to lose himself in the sensation. He batted at the hand when it tightened, and tried to pull him up. He managed to break free, and stood. Vic gasped in some air as he wiped his eyes. Then he shoved out a hand to stop Mac, as he heard the other man move through the water towards him.

"My Grandpa," Mac teased. "What a really big tool you have."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Vic bellowed as he jerked up his black swim trunks.

"That's not what you're supposed to say." Mac sported the most exasperating grin. "You say: 'All the better to fuck you with, my dear.'"

Vic jabbed a finger towards him. "You could have drowned both of us."

Mac gave an incredulous laugh. "We're in four feet of water, tops. You keep lying about being over six feet tall. So, all you have to do is stand up."

"Ah... Ah... ." Vic struggled to think of something to say instead of just grabbing Mac by the back of the head and forcing that perfect mouth over his aching cock. "Statistically most drowning occurs in less than three feet of water."

"You don't know that." Mac's smile was fading, and anger narrowed his eyes.

"What you did was dangerous." Vic threw back.

"What?" Mac was glaring now. "What was so dangerous, throwing you in the water or jerking you?" He waded closer to Vic.

Vic staggered back a step. "You don't know anything about water safety."

Mac's brow creased with a look of total disbelief. Suddenly, he laughed, nearly doubling himself. "Jeez, Vic! That stick up your butt just gets bigger every day." He stopped laughing and fixed Victor with a heated stare. "But then it wasn't that stick that got in the way of my pulling your trunks down. Was it Vic?"

"I... . I don't come out here to splash around and screw off." 'Screw! Could you be any more obvious?' Vic screamed to himself. Mac would go after that like a shark. "I'm going swimming." Vic didn't wait to play another round of 'Who's horny and pathetic?' He plunged into the water and pulled himself away from Mac with powerful long strokes.

In a few moments Mac had nearly caught up to him and Vic slowed his pace. They swam together for a time; Vic constantly worried that he might exhaust Mac. He did seem tired, or at least too quiet, when they returned to the Beach House, and approached the outdoor shower.

Mac stepped past Vic, and onto the colorful tiled platform that served as the open shower's floor. He turned on the tap, and stood with his head down as the warm water cleaned away the salt from the ocean. He didn't bother to remove the thin sleeveless t-shirt he had been wearing. The garment became nearly transparent as the shower soaked it. The muted outline of the scar on his shoulder stood out in dark relief.

It hit Vic that he hadn't seen Mac without a t-shirt or shirt since they came to the island. This was unusual, to say the least, for a guy who reveled in seeing and showing off his body. Great! When Mac was finally well there would be a new hurdle. He'd have to be convinced that the scar meant nothing between them. Vic would have to go slow with him. He spanned one hand across his forehead. God, that meant, what, another two months without sex? He jerked his hand away. 'Stop thinking about yourself. He's the one whose been hurt.' Vic squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 'But I'm the one who is going to need an treatment if this goes on much longer.'

Mac stepped out of the stream of water and brushed his wet hair back with both hands. The hair glistened with a dark luster as he pushed it into place. The sleek waves that crowned his head gave his strong features a classical beauty.

Vic realized, too late, that he was staring at Mac as he stepped off the shower platform.

"Let me get you a towel," Vic offered as he neared.

"Cristo has some waiting on the patio," Mac replied flatly. Then his head jerked up, and he gave Vic an angry glance. "I'd offer to wash your back, but that might violate some shower safety regulation I don't know anything about."

"Mac," Vic called after him as he walked towards the house, but he didn't turn around.

Vic hurried through his own shower, and then went back to the mansion. As he approached the large slate covered patio that lead to the living room, he saw Mac's wet clothes draped over the wrought iron railing that enclosed the space. Cristo, the house manager, had left dry clothes for them as well as a pile of towels. Vic pulled off his swim trunks and hung them next to Mac's. Without a word or a thought from either of them, they would find these clothes clean and folded in their respective dresser drawers. Vic dried himself off, scrubbing the thick towel over his hair. He tossed it aside, and then picked up the pale blue cotton shirt that had been set out for him. He pulled on the loose khaki shorts and tied the drawstring tight. Cristo had a knack for giving him clothes he liked and that made him feel comfortable. He drew in a deep breath. As much as he wanted Mac to be well, as much as he wanted things to be status quo, he was going to truly miss this master-of-the-house life.

Mac was sprawled out on one of the plush cushioned rattan couches when Vic entered the room. Mac didn't acknowledge him, but stared towards the large windows and the luxuriant garden beyond. It wasn't like him to pull this silence crap. Vic knew that was his own way of coping with things. Mac always pushed for an argument. Words were his weapon, his protection and his sanctuary. He must still feel sick to be this quiet.

"You want me to get you some ice cream?" Vic asked, pointing towards the other end of the house where the kitchen was situated.

Mac turned his gaze away from the window and fixed him with an incredulous glare.

"Not that you couldn't get ice cream for yourself if you wanted," Vic added hastily.

Mac gave a short harsh laugh. "You think you can stand to eat with me?"

Vic wasn't sure what to say. There was a challenge, yet a desperate sadness in Mac's tone. "If you want ice cream I can eat you, with...eat with you. Because right now I want... ice cream." Mac looked away for a moment. Did he miss it? Why wasn't he pouncing on the pathetic Freudian slip? Even after the first stumble Vic's mouth had tried to betray him again. His brain had thought the word a second time, and almost forced his voice to say, 'Because right now I want you.' He was on the verge of saying it, and although he hadn't, he was certain Mac's reaction was disappointment at knowing that Vic wanted to put him at risk to satisfy his own lust.

Mac shrugged, and looked back towards the garden. "I guess ice cream is the most I can hope for."

"So, you want ice cream?" Vic asked softly, still afraid Mac knew how selfish he wanted to be.

"Sure. Thrill me," Mac said, a petulant note ringing in his voice.

Vic turned and was nearly through the door on his way to the kitchen.

"Mango."

Vic stopped in the doorway and looked back at Mac. "What?"

"Mango," Mac repeated the word, enunciating with a frustrated clarity. "I want mango ice cream. I don't want that rutted road goop you eat."

"It's rocky road, rocky not rutted." Vic spanned the fingers of one hand across his forehead. Great, now Mac was going to slip into his sick and fussy two-year-old personae.

"Whatever." Mac shielded his eyes with one arm, sinking even further into the pliant couch cushions. "It's just sick and wrong to try and eat frozen marshmallow." He sat up suddenly and fixed Vic with an angry stare. "What is marshmallow anyway? You won't eat anything that's a delicacy in my culture, things that you couldn't even have dreamed of affording on your pathetic, past-life cop salary. No, but you'll pack away whatever that white snot is, and expect me to join in."

"Maybe you'd be happier if I didn't eat with you at all?" Vic snapped.

Mac gave a sad laugh. "Good job, Vic. You're just the best at twisting things around until it's my fault." His arm went up to cover his eyes once more.

"Fault?" Vic ran his hand over his mouth. 'He's not fully recovered, yet. You tired him out,' he reminded himself. This whole thing could escalate into a real fight with very little effort. He wouldn't do that to Mac. "I'm getting ice cream," he pronounced as he left the room before Mac could counter.

Chef wasn't in the kitchen, which was good because she didn't like the guests helping themselves. The down side was that the lowly staff person present, who was doing the prep work for that evening's dinner, had to hunt for Mac's mango ice cream. Vic's rocky road was in the kitchen freezer. He was told chef kept it handy because he ate so much of it. The mango was finally found in a mixed case along with pints of leachy and green tea ice cream tucked away in the back of a storage freezer. Mac rarely ate sweets, and when he did they were strange, like the rest of his diet.

When Vic returned to the living room, a dish of glistening, dark ice cream in one hand and the pale, barely sweet mango concoction in the other, he found Mac asleep on the couch. Vic sat carefully in an upholstered chair on the other side of the room, holding a bowl in each hand. He watched Mac sleep, his breathing heavy and even. After a minute or so of willing Mac to wake up, but not having the heart to actually interrupt his nap, Vic rested the bowl of mango in his lap. The chill from the fine porcelain served as a thin barrier between his resolve and his arousal while he watched the small movement of Mac's full, sensuous lips as he breathed slowly in sleep. Vic finally lifted his spoon and gulped in a mouthful of the silky sweetness from his own bowl. It didn't act as the substitute he'd hoped it would, and it was gone far too soon.

Vic stayed as long as he could before the sight of Mac drove him to distraction. Quietly, he stood and placed the bowl of pale ice cream on the coffee table next to Mac. The muted thud on the rattan table didn't wake him, didn't even make him stir. The swim had been too much for him. Vic silently cursed himself for letting it go on so long. He left his own empty bowl on an end table where one of the staff would take it to the kitchen for him. The spoon rang against the porcelain bowl as it settled on the table. Vic looked over his shoulder; on the off chance the noise had disturbed Mac. He still slept soundly. Vic watched him for another moment, let out the breath he held, and went upstairs to his room.

He had to pee. At least that's what he was telling himself. It wasn't morning, and it hadn't been all that long since he'd been to the bathroom, but this was just a pee-hard. That's all he'd admit to as it rubbed against the sturdy cotton of his shorts while he climbed the steps to his room. Pee-hard, nothing more. He wasn't turned on. He had more self-control then that, more self-respect, and more concern for Mac. This was just an annoying pee-hard that would be eliminated with a trip to the john.

Vic went into his room and headed directly for the bathroom. He stood looking in the long mirror above the double sink as he untied the drawstring on his shorts. The man who looked back was surprisingly fit despite his recent addiction to ice cream. His skin had a healthy olive tone. He wasn't deeply tanned, but now was rid of his winter pallor. He needed a haircut, he thought absently, as he pulled his stiff member from the khaki shorts. Mac did too. His hair was longer than Vic ever remembered seeing it. Dark and thick it had a life of it's; own dipping in waves and springing up in errant flips and curls. The unintentional look was reckless and sexy. Vic gave a quick tug on his cock and shivered from the jolt of pleasure. God he wanted to touch that hair. Run his fingers through it, tousle it just enough to annoy Mac, or grab him by it and force his mouth down on... Vic pulled his hand away. This wasn't a pee-hard, and surprisingly rough sex wasn't what he wanted right now.

He wanted a slow, teasing, secret encounter. The thought of Mac, asleep on the couch, vulnerable and waiting to be caressed consumed him. Vic drew in a deep breath and sank to the floor; his back pressed against the white cabinets of the bathrooms long vanity. He scooted out of his shorts and snagged a clean white towel off the counter above. 'You're acting like a sixteen year old,' he chided himself.

His hand wrapped around the warm, hard length of his cock. He sighed at the sensation. "It's good to be sixteen, again," he whispered.

He thought about Mac asleep on the yielding cushions, the warm breeze from the open doors playing over his body. Vic wanted to touch that vulnerable, sexy body using a gentle, stealthy caress. Not sufficient to wake him, but expertly enough to make him twitch and grow hard. He wanted to brush his lips, like a ghost kiss, feather light across Mac's incredible mouth. If he had his way he would run one finger up the underside of Mac's shaft, not taking him out of the light jersey shorts he wore, but letting the material amplifying the sensation until soft, slow, little strokes made him come. He still wouldn't wake, not until night had made the room dark. His eyes would open and display that little boy confusion that made Vic want to crush him in his arms. Then he would wonder what had happened. He would reach down and touch the damp evidence, and marvel at how a wet dream could feel so incredibly real.

Vic tightened his hand and stroked harder. Then he loosened his grip and teased at his shaft, not letting himself come yet. The image of Mac helplessly aroused in his sleep morphed into the first time they had gotten each other off. Vic held struggling and helpless against Mac's heated body, a bet, a game gone in a direction he never imagined.

'What do you think about when you jerk-off?' Mac had asked as his fingers danced along Vic's cock. Vic had been trapped by the pleasure, and unable to do anything but think about the images that got him off. Mac seemed to know instinctively how to prompt reactions that tormented him. Vic had wanted to come so badly his body ached with the need for release; his throat choked back the screams that would come when he finally gave in. Yet he couldn't admit to this. He couldn't let Mac win this tantalizing test of wills. Mac had used such skill to bring him to that point, and had kept him balanced on the sharp, thin, exquisite blade of pleasure between submission and defiancé. This is what he'd always thought about, trying not to come as skilled hands tormented him beyond his endurance.

'What do you think about when you jerk-off?'

'You. Only you now, Mac,' Vic thought as yet again he changed the pace of his strokes while he rocked and ground his butt into the plush throw rug on the bathroom floor. He thought about Mac varying rhythms and pressure with his mouth or hand. He saw his eyes light with a feral mischief when he drew a moan or curse as he left Vic teetering on the brink, pausing to admire the frustration he had created.

'I think about you.' He thought about Mac sleeping downstairs. He imagined his own hands stirring Mac's cock to life. How long could he keep that relaxed, vulnerable body aroused, yet asleep? The thought made him increase his stroking. Vic's fingers glided over the most sensitive spot of his shaft. He teased at it with butterfly light touches that made him jerk from the sharp shocks of pleasure. More to the point was how long could Vic last as he witnessed the formation of dark spots as pre-cum stained the jersey of Mac's gray shorts.

'What do you think about when you jerk-off? I think about you.' Images, remembered and invented swam through Vic's mind charging his arousal. He thought of what he wanted to do to a sleeping Mac. He relived the tortuous teasing that Mac was so good at inflicting. The erotic pictures came in staccato bursts like electrically charged snap-shots. Vic barely brushed his swollen cock trying to prolong the pleasure that overloaded his senses. The sensations built until he couldn't hold back, couldn't help but thrust into his own hand. His grip tightened and the explosion of pure, pent-up lust rocked through him. He grunted out a series of moans as he bounced and jerked from the white-hot sensation that charged his nerves and muscles.

Vic was on his side on the floor when it was over. After a minute to catch his breath, he panted as he reached for the towel resting beside him. He slowly cleaned himself, stopping at times to take a deep breath or just listen to his own blood sing across his eardrums. He pulled at his softened cock, stretching it out in order to wipe away the last traces of what he'd done to himself. Weariness settled over him instead of the calm he had hoped for. He felt empty, except for the constant guilt that haunted him.

He threw the towel aside, and it smacked with surprising force against the large claw-foot bathtub.

"You're pathetic," he said aloud, and buried his face in his hands.

###

Part Fourteen

Vic stood in the open doorway that lead out to his room's small balcony. The view wasn't as spectacular as he'd had those first few days while he shared the master bedroom, down the hall, with Mac. The vista from this room had the odd vine covered tree in the way, but he could still see the ocean. If he leaned against the jamb of the open French doors, and he didn't really feel like doing much else, the tree's actually made a very nice frame for the glassy water.

The ocean was gemstone blue, glinting and brilliant, beyond the squat white colonnades of the balcony's railing. The late afternoon heat shimmered off the water, and promised another glorious sunset in a few hours.

A soft breeze moved the gauzy curtains on either side of the French doors, and kissed Vic's skin. The air was sweet with the perfume of exotic flowers, and accented with the faint piquant of salt air. It was during tranquil moments like this, after he had exhausted himself by jerking-off, that Vic wished he could stay in this paradise forever.

He took a sip from his glass of ice water and fresh limejuice, and listened to the soft music that filled the room. He hoped it would ease his troubles, as music had done throughout his life. It seemed to be working. He felt calm at last, or at least distracted. He was grateful for any distraction that could take his mind away from Mac, if even for a moment.

The Director certainly hadn't stranded him on a barren island, as he'd feared. This was the long, expensive vacation he had demanded, complete with all luxuries. The beach house was equipped with a state of the art sound system. The first package he'd received from the Director, only two days after their arrival, was a varied collection of favorite delta blues CDs. These were accompanied by a much smaller collection of the noise Mac liked to call music. Vic nodded minimally along with the hypnotic rhythms of Blind Boy Fuller. The twang of the singer's voice matched the cry of his slide guitar while he sang Homesick and Lonesome.

Vic fished an ice cube out of his glass and rubbed it over his neck and throat, letting the cold, melting water run down his bare chest. The odd drops marked brown specks on his khaki shorts.

"Is that how you feel?"

Vic jerked at the unexpected sound of Mac's voice, the ice rattling in his glass. He turned to see Mac standing just outside the door. He wore the same light jersey t-shirt and shorts that had charged Vic's jerk-off fantasy earlier. Vic allowed himself a quick inspection of Mac's body, but looked away long before he was satisfied.

"I asked if that's how you feel." Mac took a step into the room. "Homesick and Lonesome?"

Vic jerked his head towards Mac. "How do you know the name of this song?"

"Repetition, Victor, Victor, Victor." Mac moved towards him, the challenge in his eyes matching the one in his voice. "You see, I've heard this piece of Mississippi mud every time you mope and start nursing a drink. Which means I've heard it a lot." He took the glass from Vic's hand, and pulled out the lime wedge. He put the fruit slice in his mouth and bit down, momentarily flashing Vic a grimace with green rind replacing white teeth. Mac removed the segment and licked his lips. "Good stuff, nearly sweet. You remember our first experience with limes?"

Vic remembered little else lately. The giddy tipsiness of tequila shooters and lime had numbed his inhibitions, and allowed him do things with Mac that he had wanted for so long. Now, the slightest thought of their initial encounter was enough to arouse him. Vic turned away before Mac could see the heat spread across his cheeks. They stood in silence for a long, uncomfortable moment, Vic looking out at the calm water that stretched off to the horizon, wishing he could find some tranquility there.

Finally, Mac spoke. "I remember what it was like before this whole Section Six mess started. That morning in bed before we went in for the briefing, and I was instantly out numbered by your three lovers."

"Ex-lovers!" Vic spun around.

"Yeah, aren't we all?" Mac looked down for a moment, but then met Vic's gaze with a renewed intensity. "Some are more ex than others, though."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Vic rolled his shoulders as a flash of anger tightened his neck.

"I heard you on the phone with Elliot," Mac challenged.

"He called for you. " Vic gave Mac an incredulous stare. "He called so Jason could talk to you."

"The call came in for you. I heard you on the phone with him." Mac dropped his voice to a husky, secretive whisper. "I'm doing good. How are you? This place is fantastic. I wish you could see it."

Vic fought the bloom of embarrassment that prickled over his body at the mocking imitation. "It was just small talk. Excuse me for being civil to the guy." Mac's expression of impatient disbelief just fueled the anger that stiffened Vic's spine. "It's not my fault that Elliot felt he had to check with me to see if it was safe for Jason to thank you for saving his life." He stabbed a finger at Mac. "That's why they called. That's why I put you on the phone with Jason. You seemed to get off on all that gratitude at the time."

Mac nodded. "I didn't have anything to hide. I talked to Jason right in front of you, but you never mentioned Elliot."

"Gee, Mac," Vic said with a sharp, false smile, "I really didn't know it meant so much to you to get caught-up on what's happening with Elliot."

"When's he coming?"

Vic shrugged. "Who?"

"Elliot!" Mac cracked off the name. "I figured that was your reward for enduring all this. Is the Director paying you off to stay here by promising a little nude beach time with him?"

Vic leaned against the doorjamb, and let out an exhausted sigh. This was the last straw. Mac was still jealous, and there was no way to show him how wrong he was until he was completely well. "Mac you are so far off on this, but no matter what I say you won't believe me."

"I believed you that morning, before everything started. You told me that you were addicted to me." He snorted out a disgusted laugh. "But then, I guess you've taken the cure. Congratulations." He held the glass up in a salute, and took a long drink. His face creased into a puzzled frown when he finished. "This is just water. What? You take the pledge along with swearing off me?"

"Give me the glass." Vic reached for it, but Mac swept it behind his back.

"Fine." Vic pursed his lips, and pushed away from the doorjamb.

"So, you're going to leave whether I give you the glass or not? Figures. After all, you are the guy who has elevated walking away from a problem into an art form."

Vic stopped, but didn't turn around.

"I caught your last exhibit," Mac continued. "The last, the first, all the countless portraits of the back of your head as you walked away are burned into my brain. Ah, yes, through the years there have been the greats; Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Picasso and now Mansfield." Mac stepped in front of Vic and flashed an angry grin. "All those guys I just named were great artists, by the way. I thought I'd tell you just in case you hadn't heard of them while you were playing cops and robbers, and aspiring to own a pick-up truck."

"Stop it!" Vic bellowed. His hands balled into fists, and he fought to keep them at his side. "Just stop it." His voice dropped to a normal tone, but was brittle with frustrated anger. "What do you want, Mac, an argument? Better yet a fight? You probably won't be happy until one of us gets knocked on his ass."

"No chance of that happening. You won't touch me. You think I'm beng. " Mac ended the sentence with a ringing Cantonese word.

"Does that make you feel important?" Vic's eyes narrowed. "Does that make you cooler, smarter, a better man than me because you can talk some... some gibberish that I don't understand?"

"You think I don't understand, but I do."

Mac's last sentence hung in the air for a moment. It would have made just as much sense if it had been said in Chinese as well. Vic shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about." Then he thought of what could be an answer, and reached to touch Mac's forehead. "Do you have a fever again?"

Mac batted his hand away. "Will it gross you out if I do? I just want you to say it."

"Say it? What?" Vic raised his hand as if to stop Mac. His sudden defensiveness had Vic on the verge of striking back. "I'm not going to play these stupid games with you."

"Sure you'll play. You're trapped here with nothing else to do. Just admit it." Mac quickly reached into the glass and wet his fingers. Then he flicked the droplets at Vic.

Vic winced at the unexpected wetness.

"I thought you liked water, Vic. Aren't you the fucking water safety master? You spend most of your time swimming, or in the shower." Mac shot another spray of water beads at Vic. "Or is that just a place to scrub off after being around me?"

Vic grabbed at the glass, but Mac stepped out of reach. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Vic swiped at his face, wiping the dampness away with his hand. 'Remember, he's sick, he's still weak and he's going to be dead if he doesn't stop,' Vic yelled in his mind. "Did you stop taking your medication?"

"I told you I just want you to say it." Mac reached his long fingers into the glass once more.

Vic lunged at him. "Give me that goddamn thing!" He slapped it from Mac's hand. The glass shattered on the polished hard wood floor. Vic glanced over at the shards of glass glinting in a puddle of water and ice. His head was jerked sideways as Mac grabbed his chin and forced Vic to look at him.

"Say it! Have the fucking balls to say it to my face!"

Vic pulled out of his grasp, and staggered back a step. Mac followed him until they stood toe to toe.

"Tell me instead of just running away! Tell me I disgust you."

"Disgust?" Vic searched Mac's face for some explanation to all this. The usual confrontational arrogance that fired their arguments was gone. Mac looked scared, afraid that he might hear the words he expected. Then his world would be shattered like the glass that was trashed on the floor beside them.

Vic closed his eyes and sighed. He tried to steel himself for the fight that was about to come if Mac didn't back down. "I've been through all this with you, Mac. I've been by your side, damnit!" His own frustration escalated in his voice. "How can you say this to me? I know you're selfish Mac, but what do I have to do to fill your bottomless need for attention; sleep at the foot of your bed like a dog? Well, I have, at the medical center, and here when you first got the infection. But forgive me for sitting in a chair all night with my head propped on my arms resting on your bed. I know now, that you expected me to be curled up on a rug by the door."

"Don't put this back on me, Vic," Mac yelled. "It's not my fault that the way you feel about me doesn't quite fit with your self-image as the perfect hero."

Vic waved his hand dismissively, and took a step towards the door. "I'm not going to do this. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know that whenever I come into a room you walk out."

Vic stopped. How was he supposed to answer that? It was true, but the real reason was too embarrassing to admit. Why did Mac have to be such an expert at pushing his buttons? In only a few moments Mac had him on the run. He'd lost control just as he'd feared. Instead of lust causing problems it was his temper, funny how they had the same results.

Vic tried to lose the heat that made him want to fight or flee. He had to try to think rationally for Mac's sake. Getting this upset couldn't be doing Mac any good. He might calm down if he were told the truth. Vic couldn't see how Mac would become any more distressed when he learned how selfish the man who supposedly loved him could be.

"If it's the Director who's keeping you here I'll talk to her," Mac continued. "I'll figure out something so that you can leave. Just give me some respect, and admit that what you've seen is the problem. Admit that I'm the reason you want out."

Vic turned. Mac's dark eyes were glistening. Vic's words caught in his throat. He glanced away.

"See," Mac pointed a shaky finger at him. "You can't even look at me."

"You're wrong." Vic tried to fix his gaze on Mac. The pain in his eyes was unbearable. He'd caused that pain because he'd tried to protect him the only way he knew how, by avoiding the situation. Sister Rose of Lima's voice echoed from the past. For just a moment he was a kid again in corduroy pants, uniform sweater and crisp white shirt. He sat with his head cradled in his arms on his grade school desk. The whole class listened this way as their teacher walked slowly around the room reciting potential sins as they prepared to go to confession. "Avoid the near occasion of sin." She'd ended each session with those words. Vic hadn't been good at it then, and Mac made it just short of impossible now.

"You don't know what this is about," Vic said softly as he fought to keep contact with the tragedy in Mac's eyes.

"I know you've been there with me, Vic. There was nothing I could do about that." Mac wiped away a silent tear that escaped down his cheek. "I also know that means you've seen everything, the sweat, the blood and the puss. I never wanted you to see me like that."

"Is this about...?"

"Things that happened with me were too gross."

"Mac, you're the one who's squeamish about things like that. Not me." God what a mess. He'd let a misunderstanding turn into the elephant in the room. It was too big for either of them to ignore any longer. He'd never dreamed that Mac would see his self-sacrifice as repulsion. Mac used to take shots at him before they were together. 'How can you be so thick?' LiAnn would always come to his defense. 'He's focused.' He'd been very focused the last few months. A slight smile moved Vic's lips.

"You think this is funny?" Mac planted one foot, and nearly assumed a fighting stance.

"No. But what's that word the Cleaners use?" Vic snapped his fingers trying to come up with it. "Ah.... Ironic."

Mac blinked, but remained on the defensive. "Have you lost your fucking mind? Now, you're quoting the Cleaners? You're the one who needs medication."

Vic dipped his head as the smile broadened. "It's just that things are, like, three-sixty from what you think." He looked up, and Mac relaxed his stance.

"This better be good," Mac warned his voice tinged with caution. "And don't try to scam me because you're a lousy liar."

The smile left Vic, and he fought hard not to reply that Mac would certainly know a good liar when he heard one, since he was a master at it himself. Vic took a deep breath and tried to shake off the sudden flash of anger. So, this was the life he'd made for himself with Mac Ramsey; uncontrolled lust interspersed with random acts of bickering.

"Come on, explain," Mac goaded. "I want to hear what's so damn funny about you avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you." The words came with more anger than Vic had intended. Mac shifted his weight, and was ready to respond when Vic raised his hand. "Just shut-up and let me finish."

Mac reluctantly fell silent. He folded his arms across his chest, and stared at the floor. As Vic paused, searching for the right words, Mac mumbled under his breath, "I don't know what you call it, but you've been avoiding me."

Vic let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, I am avoiding you, but it's not for the reason you think." Vic reached out to gingerly touch Mac's wounded shoulder. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating. He paused much longer than he'd intended, relishing this tiny scrap of intimacy.

Mac jerked away from him. "Fuck! You can barely stand to touch me. I won't put you through the ordeal of trying to explain."

"Mac you don't understand!"

"Oh I do. I get it. I saw the look on your face, the hesitation before you touched me, and how you couldn't speak after you did." It was Mac's turn to head for the door.

Vic intercepted him and blocked his way. "You have to listen to me." He took hold of one arm, then the other. His hands moved swiftly up and grasped Mac's shoulders. Not hesitating this time, Vic forced him back against the wall next to the door. He only wanted to prevent Mac from leaving, to end the words, and to make Mac hear his confession. His hands continued until they cradled Mac's face, and his fingertips touched the soft unruly hair. Mac's lips moved, a protest forming, but it never escaped as Vic's mouth covered his.

The taste of him was incredible. A poignant sweetness filled Vic's senses. A tiny voice nagged that he should stop, explain and make things right. Touching Mac, the kisses that he was now receiving as well as giving were the only right thing in his world. At that moment the entire universe, his very essence of being narrowed to their lips, their tongues and the warm breath they exchanged as they explored each other.

Mac's hands scrambled over Vic's back. He tensed, expecting at any moment that Mac would push him away. Instead, the hands clutched at his sides, and pulled him closer. Vic pressed, willingly, against Mac.

There was always such perfection in kissing Mac. His lips were full, soft and warm. His tongue was agile and intuitive as he discovered sensitive, thrilling places. It was easy to get lost in the sensuality of that mouth. One more kiss. That was what Vic kept telling himself as they played out a sexy game of tag with each other. Just one more kiss.

Then the voice interrupted, again. The admonishment do-the-right-thing-Vic was no longer a mummer in the background, but a full-blown, yelling nag in his head. 'He's not well yet you selfish son-of-a-bitch!

Vic stepped back, but only a little, as Mac wouldn't let go. His hands still framed Mac's face. "I just wanted to protect you," Vic whispered, his lips going back to Mac's for another brief kiss.

"Protect me from what?" Mac tried to capture his mouth again as Vic leaned away.

"I want you so much." Vic gave in, and let Mac pull him back for one more kiss.

"Why are you staying away?" Mac asked when they broke.

Vic rested his forehead against Mac's. "I can't control myself around you." He laughed softly. "You see, this happens if I don't stay away. I need to stay away from you until you're well."

Mac pushed him back a little, holding him at arms-length. "You mean you want me so much you have to leave me?" One eyebrow shot up in a skeptical grimace.

"I'm not leaving you." Vic tried to defend his actions. "I'm just leaving you alone." He hesitated as the words started to sink in. "Yeah, I guess. No. Well, sort of. Yeah."

"Good job, Vic." Mac patted him on the shoulder. "You've turned our lives into a fucking soap opera, a bad, fucking soap opera."

Vic tried to move away, but Mac's fingers dug into his back and drew him in. "When I'm around you I just want to... I don't know... just jump you," Vic confessed. He glanced at Mac hoping he would read the apology in his eyes. "I tried to stay away. I didn't want to take any chances until you were well."

Mac's lips twitched then broke into a sly smile. He leaned close. "I am well," he whispered next to Vic's ear.

Vic gave him a judgmental scowl. "You may think you're well...."

Mac put a finger to his lips and shushed him. "The walls have ears," he cautioned.

"Not here?" Vic shook his head. "The Director wouldn't bug...."

"Reality check, buddy. It's what she does." Mac took Vic's arm and steered him closer to the surround sound speakers. Then he snagged the remote, and upped the volume slightly. "I'm telling you I'm okay, now."

"You can say whatever you want, but I saw the trouble you were having with your therapy."

Mac cocked his head to one side. His lips stretched into a smile that Vic knew only too well.

"Mac?"

"Carolyn really likes it here. I do too." The smile spread into a self-satisfied smirk. "She increases the weights on the machine without recording it, and, the funny thing is, I don't seem to be making any progress."

Mac bent forward to kiss him, but Vic leaned away. "How long?"

"We figure we've got another three weeks before things get obvious."

Vic pushed out of Mac's embrace. "I meant how long have you been well?"

Mac raised his hands, and shushed him again. The puckish grin returned. "Awhile now."

"You fucking asshole," Vic seethed through clinched teeth.

"What did you say?" Mac gaped at him.

"You put me through hell you self-centered, thoughtless asshole." Anger spiked in Vic, and he wanted justice. He knew there was only one thing guaranteed to set Mac off. Mac would never explain why this triggered such a rage in him, but at times like this Vic didn't care. He just used that knowledge to bring Mac down to the same visceral level of anger he inhabited. Vic's arm shot out pushing Mac back a step.

Mac's puzzled look vanished, replaced by his own anger. "Don't push me, Vic!" He shoved Vic back.

"You couldn't tell me?" Vic pushed again. "You're so clever with your fucking brilliant schemes." He punctuated the words with another shot, and Mac retaliated.

"You don't fucking push me!" Mac bellowed.

"Is it a joke to you that you didn't tell me? Am I just another mark to you?" Vic raised his hands, but Mac was ready, and blocked him. "Why didn't you tell me?" he raged.

"When would I tell you?" Mac delivered a solid blow to the shoulder that forced Vic back a step. "You wouldn't even stay in the same fucking room with me!"

The exchange of blows had pushed them across the room until Vic bumped into one of the bed posts.

"I try to trust you, and you pull this... this shit on me!" Vic raised his arm to strike again, but Mac moved swiftly and bent his arm behind his back.

"This isn't my fault," Mac yelled, as Vic twisted, trying to break free.

"You played me!" Vic pushed against Mac.

"You ignored me!" Mac pushed back, and they toppled onto the bed with a thud.

Vic struggled after the unexpected landing. As he thrashed he seemed to move into Mac's grasp, instead of away. Mac's fingers entrap his other wrist. In a moment his hands were forced behind his back. Vic fought to get some leverage, but he found himself draped over the foot of the high, four-poster bed, and barely able to move. Mac on top of him, coupled with his own weight on his captured arms had him pinned.

Mac was scant inches away from his face when he shouted again. "This is not my fucking fault!"

Vic thrashed under him. "It's not my fault either. I tried to protect you."

"I thought I disgusted you." Mac shifted his weight, and restricted Vic's movement even more.

Vic gave up with an exhausted sigh, and turned his face to the wall. "You don't know how hard it's been to stay away from you," he confessed. His words were met with a prolonged silence. Vic looked back and met Mac's eyes.

"You don't know how much I wanted you to touch me," Mac said in a sad, quiet voice, "or just look at me. I wanted to see you smile instead of act like you'd discovered something dead behind the refrigerator."

"That's not the way I acted at all. It tore me up to see you so sick." Vic tried to rise up, make his protest more pronounced, but all he could manage to do was elevate his head an inch. "It took so long to get rid of the infection; I was worried if we did anything... you know... physical, it would be too much for you. I had to stay away because everything you do lately just.... well.... it just turns me on." He closed his eyes, afraid to see the mocking look that was sure to pop into Mac's eyes. He waited for it, the taunt; caught you, caught you hard and horny, now I have the power, but there were no words. Vic opened his eyes again.

Mac wet his lips as if he were about to speak, but looked away. When he met Vic's gaze again there was a cool determination in his eyes.

"Why are we fighting?" Mac asked, his tone calm and steady.

Anger still jangled through Vic. "Because you... you... you pissed me off."

"This must be the ironic part. You're pissed off because I want to, and am able to give you just exactly what you need?"

"And you threw water in my face," Vic added quickly, trying to ignore the embarrassingly, obvious logic of Mac's words.

"Flicked," Mac countered. "Droplets. You make it sound like I doused you with a bucket."

"And you pushed me."

"You pushed me first!" Mac's voice rose in protest. "And you knew damn well that would start a fight."

Vic dropped his head back down on the bed. This squabbling, that they were both prodigies at, could go on forever. His reverie was short lived. Mac gave him a sharp shake.

"So, we both want the same thing, but we're just going to go on fighting?"

Vic looked up at Mac and suddenly he seemed different. This wasn't the conniving, immature jerk, with the attention span of a gnat, who had plagued him when they were first partnered. This was a determined man who was going to get what he wanted, and apparently he wanted him.

Vic felt near collapse as the fight adrenalin drained away. He tried to smile, to give Mac the sign that he had been waiting for, but the effort seemed too great. "I remember that morning together, too," he said after a moment. His voice sounded thin and exhausted to him. "That time in bed before Section Six turned us inside out. You asked me when you became the responsible one." Vic gave a weary laugh. "I don't know, but obviously you have."

"I don't want to fight any more."

"Me either," Vic agreed.

"Why do we do this to each other?" Mac whispered.

Vic squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe because we're so different?"

Mac turned up one corner of his lips in acknowledgement. "Or maybe, because we're so much alike?"

Vic smiled faintly. "You think we'll ever figure it out?"

Mac smiled back. "Not in this lifetime."

Vic nodded his agreement. "In the next life I'm going to find you right away, not waste any time."

Mac laughed, a soft genuine laugh that made Vic smile. "More time to fight?"

"And make up. Speaking of which let me up." All Vic wanted now was to hold Mac, and be held in return.

"Can't you get up?" Mac asked, but made no move to release him.

"Ah, does it look like I can get up?"

"No. Actually it looks like I'm finally stronger than you are." A wide, superior smile spread across Mac's face.

"That's total bull." Vic squirmed under him trying to rise. "It's the angle."

"Good excuse."

"You've got your feet on the floor. My feet aren't planted. I can't get any leverage." Mac's grip tightened, and Vic felt the little movement he had being stifled. He fought a moment longer then looked up at Mac. "You are stronger." His voice rang with disbelief.

"I told you. I've been working out. Just because I'm not making any progress with my therapy," Mac winked," doesn't mean I'm not getting a lot stronger."

"Okay, so you're the man. Now, I want to get up."

Mac ground against him sending a shock of pleasure charging through Vic.

"Feels like you're already up, or well on the way."

"Mac don't do that." Vic tossed his head from side to side trying to rid himself of the insistent desire that plagued his body.

"Don't do what? This?" Mac rubbed slowly against him, causing heat to build from the friction, and hardening his cock. "Or this?" He leaned forward, and brushed feather soft, maddening kisses across Vic's lips.

Vic turned his face away and moaned. "You don't know how damn horny I am. You do any of that and I'll come."

"That's kind'a the idea."

"Mac stop." Vic tried again to break free, but gained little ground. "I'm not... going to... come in my pants." The words erupted in raspy clumps as Mac kept up the steady maddening rub.

"Like, this would be the first time Cristo found come stained clothes in your laundry hamper." Mac leaned forward until his mouth nearly touched Vic's stomach.

Vic tensed as the warm breath kissed his skin, fired his nerves, and sent shocks jolting through his cock. His body betrayed him with a shiver, as an edgy wave of pleasure rumbled through him from core to fingertips. The reaction wasn't lost on Mac. He smiled as his tongue darted out, then traced a lazy trail up Vic's chest, over his neck and ended with a nip to his chin.

Mac hovered over him, a sly grin making him look too sexy and dangerous.

"I can't get off this way," Vic told him, hoping for a tone of authority that would buy his release. It didn't work.

"That's not true. I know your secret," Mac whispered, the knowing smile still hanging like a Cheshire cat above Vic. "This fucking melts your cock. You'd never allow anyone to do it to you, but when it happens you're hard as a rock."

Vic squeezed his eyes shut. He hated feeling this vulnerable, knowing that the best he could do was to take it. The thought made him press against Mac. The man did know his secret. Vic never gave physical control of himself to another, and he'd fight if there was ever a threat that control could be taken from him. Yet when it did happen, and all choice had been taken away, his whole being was sensitized by the surrender.

"Vic Mansfield, crypto-bottom," Mac told him.

An involuntary moan escaped at the idea, and Vic tossed his head again. The tantalizing scrub against his receptive cock sparked up a notch.

"You're going to pay for this." The threat came from a breathy voice that broke on the last word.

"No doubt, but it's gonna to be worth it."

Mac chuckled, and then bent down to lightly rub his stubbled chin over Vic's nipples. He moved slowly enough that Vic knew what was going to happen. The anticipation and the knowledge that it would drive him crazy were nearly as intense as the actual touch. Nearly. Nothing compared to that teasing scrape. He jerked, tensed and tried to break free again, as the tickling scratch played on his responsive flesh.

"This really gets to you," Mac said with a lilting taunt to his tone, but didn't stop.

Vic responded to each word with a moaning grunt as the warm breath danced with the prickly movement of Mac's chin over his afflicted skin. "I'll take that as a yes."

The maddening touch began to shift, and Vic stifled another moan. He knew Mac, and he knew what was going to happen. He was going to visit that scraping torture all over his chest.

It was worse than he could have ever imagined. Mac played his body like a finely tuned instrument, drawing cries from him as he scraped his cheek in short devastating patches along his side. Mac could only bend so far and still keep him pinned to the bed. Vic was grateful he couldn't reach his navel, but shuddered at the thought of what he could do to him if his reach was only a few inches lower.

The merciless play seemed to go on for an eternity. When Vic could force his eyes open he saw his skin covered in ruddy patches that told of the places where Mac had concentrated his efforts on hypersensitive spots. Every look cost him dearly, but Vic fell prey, too often, to a panicked curiosity that forced him to see what Mac was doing to him as a stroke grew more unbearable. Each stolen glance was a horrible mistake. The brief glimpses of Mac at work on him made the sensation even more intense.

That wasn't the worst part. As Mac teased at him he seemed to forget the reason he held him down in the first place. He'd stopped rubbing against him. Vic felt his neglected cock swell and throb with each scratchy brush of Mac's beard on his bare chest. He bucked, trying to make contact himself, but found little relief. Finally, Mac granted him some mercy and leaned back to look at him.

"I think we should get this one out of the way, so we can play later." His voice was breathy with need. "You want it slow?" He pressed into Vic, and slid along his shaft with a glacial pace that made Vic shiver. "Or do you want it fast?" He performed a staccato rub that left Vic panting when he stopped.

"I just want it," was all Vic could manage.

"Mmmm," Mac hummed out his pleasure. "Dealer's choice then."

He began a passionate grind that was clearly more to satisfy his own built up need than to please Vic. While Vic would never call him generous in bed, Mac was always skilled at getting the most gratification out of an encounter before the moment was stolen away by the climax.

Vic drew in his breath as he worked the fractional amount of movement Mac allowed him. The heat grew between them while Mac moved his steel hard erection up, down and around Vic's. The teasing scrape of the weave in his pants over his engorged organ threatened to burn the sensitive skin, but only for a moment. Mac seemed to know how much was too much. Each time pain threatened he changed the stroke, and a new flood of sensation threatened to overwhelm Vic.

When his body felt like it glowed with a fiery arousal Vic played his own games. A panicked voice in his head screamed 'I can't move!' The thought of being helpless to resist the pleasure Mac was creating jolted through his body, and charged his nerves. Another voice admonished him, 'Don't give it up.' The idea of holding back the orgasm, that he knew he couldn't resist, strengthened an unrelenting desire that already threatened to tear him apart. He fought the ever growing need for release. 'I can't move!' and 'Don't give it up.' became one and the same thing. 'How much can you take?' The fight, the struggle, the power of being helpless, but not giving in was the secret key to his arousal. He wished they could both be in this state at the same time. Mac bound, but teasing him while he lay equally restrained, but tormenting Mac. Both of them locked in an erotic competition that no one could win, but only, through sheer force of will, hope to outlast.

"Ahhhh!" The sound was ripped from Vic as lightening-like pleasure exploded in him. Blinding and all consuming, it went novae, held him for a moment in startling, white-hot delight, and then began to dim, all too soon.

He became aware of Mac panting out his own orgasm. His head minimally thumping against Vic's chest as a ragged moan escaped. A slight smile moved Vic's lips as he let his head sink into the loft of the bed's duvet. It was a comforting triumph, to Vic, that Mac could never last for more than a few second's if he climaxed first. 'You made me come, but I pulled you over the edge after me.' That was the best. That's the way he liked it.

After a moment Mac raised his head. His face was flushed, and his eyes dark and dreamy. He leaned forward, and pressed a passionate, nearly sloppy kiss onto Vic's mouth. "You are one fucking, sexy bitch, Mansfield," Mac pronounced in a low, raspy tone.

"Don't call me that?" Vic smiled at him. He had to protest, but from the debilitated quality of Mac's voice he couldn't take the name, bitch, as anything but a term of praise. "And you're pretty damn hot yourself."

"Yeah, I kind'a got that impression when you came."

Vic waited for the insufferably smug smile Mac usually displayed when he was teasing. Instead, what came out was a look of genuine contentment that he had made Vic come so hard.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you," Vic said suddenly.

Mac shook his head. "That's over." He released Vic, and stood, taking a step away. He wrung his hands for a moment. "Shit! My hands have gone to sleep," he complained.

Vic pulled his hands out from behind his back. "Your hands went to sleep? Mine are dead." He was half way into a sitting position when Mac pushed him back down.

Mac's fingers fumbled with the drawstring on Vic's shorts. "Damn! I can't get my fingers to work."

Vic slapped his hands away. "What are you doing?"

"Get these off, and I'll clean you up." Mac pulled down the gray jersey shorts that he wore, and began to use them to wipe at his sticky cock.

Vic quickly shed his khaki shorts, and waited for Mac. As he leaned forward Vic put a hand on Mac's shoulder. "Let me see a clean part of those shorts before you start."

Mac frowned. "I don't think there is a clean spot, since I come quarts." He ended with an arrogant smile.

"Right," Vic pronounced skeptically. "We all know you're such a stud. Now, show me the shorts."

In a moment Mac turned the shorts in his hands until one of the legs was displayed clean, dry and as workable as any hand towel.

"Okay." Vic lay back, his hands behind his head.

"You're a clean freak, Vic," Mac grumbled as he gently wiped Vic.

"Cleanliness is next to Godliness," he replied absently as Mac ministered to him.

"Well, your cleanliness is next to a mental condition." He finished with a last dab at Vic's hip, and tossed the shorts aside. "That's why I thought what happened to me would bother you."

The remark was made lightly, even off-hand, but Vic heard the need for reassurance deep beneath the words. He sat up and grabbed Mac by the wrist. "I don't like messes. I can't operate without a certain degree of order. But that has nothing to do with you being hurt, or sick, or how that first antibiotic made you run at both ends."

Mac winced. "Jeeze, don't remind me." He tried to turn away, but Vic held him fast.

"None of that matters, because I'll do whatever it takes to make you well. I did whatever it took; and like you said that's over now."

"I just don't know how you could..." Mac started.

"You'll know how, and you'll do it if something happens to me. It's just the way things work." Vic glanced down, and let go of Mac's wrist. Then he looked up. "I'm just sorry I didn't tell you the real reason I was staying away." He looked aside again, but forced himself to fix his gaze on Mac. "I was embarrassed that I couldn't control myself."

"You have control issues, too," Mac confirmed quickly.

"And you always pick the most perfect moment to point things out," Vic snapped.

"But that's over now." Mac threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

It wasn't an apology, but as close as Vic could expect from the other man. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was too sated to get embroiled in another fight with Mac. He nodded. "Let's keep everything over until at least tomorrow. I don't have the strength left to argue with you anymore."

"If you didn't get pissed at me all the time we wouldn't argue," Mac groused.

"Mac!" Vic warned.

His hands went up again. "Over. All over. I get it. All over." His voice trailed off. "All over." He said the words softly, and a faint smile moved his lips. "All over." The smile was growing until a deeply dimpled grin lit his features. "That's what we need to do, be all over each other." He clapped his hands with delight. "I've got some things I really want to show you."

"Mac, no. I'm wasted."

"Yeah, now. But the afternoon is still young, and the evening hasn't been born yet, and the night is just a glimmer in the moon's eye, and early morning is still in a previous reincarnation, and I'm going to go get the stuff."

"Mac wait. Can't we just relax for a minute"

Mac turned in the doorway. "That's a good idea. You climb up on the bed and relax. I'll be right back." He turned and disappeared down the hallway.

Vic covered his face with his hands. Manic Mac, that's all he needed right now. He stood up slowly and stretched, hoping to work the stiffness from muscles held in one position for too long. He took Mac's advice and settled on the bed, enjoying the afternoon breeze that played lightly over his still heated skin.

The slide of wood against wood came from down the hall, as Mac opened and closed drawers in his room. Vic jerked when something crashed to the floor. He settled back quickly as the noise was accompanied by the familiar sounds of Mac swearing in Cantonese. After a moment the cursing stopped. Somewhere, further down the hallway a door creaked open.

"Found it!"

That was the last thing Vic heard before he fell asleep.

###

Section Six: Finale

oatuniverse@yahoo.com

FANDOM: Once A Thief
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others
RATING: NC-17 M/M Sex and Language
STATUS: WIP
FEEDBACK: Please oatuniverse@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.
THANKS: Kest and Nicole for the encouragement and best beta ever.
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey

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