Love in Itself

Fandom: Once A Thief

Category/Rated: NC-17 for naughty boy/boy things.

Year/Length: ~90,000 words

Pairing: Vic/Mac

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, only having fun.

Summary: Plot? What Plot. We don' need no steenkin' plot.

Author's Notes: Since John Woo and Alliance decided it was way more fun to blow them up, we hereby claim the boys as our very own. The song "Walking in my Shoes" is by Martin Gore and is reproduced here without permission.

1: Walking In My Shoes

I would say about the things
they've put me through
the pain I've been subjected to
but the Lord himself
oh would blush.

The countless feasts laid at my feet
Forbidden fruits for me to eat
But I think your pulse
Would start to rush

Now I'm not looking
For absolution
Forgiveness for the things I do
And before you come
To any conclusions
Try Walking In My Shoes
Try Walking In My Shoes...

The '97 Dodge truck gleamed under the streetlights, and the two agents who sat within the cab were both a little restless. The younger man in particular was agitated, and shifted restlessly in his seat as he tried to find a comfortable position.

"Jeez, Mansfield. Must you play that crap all the time?" He was whining, and he knew it, but the enforced inactivity was more than he could endure.

Victor Mansfield turned to his partner and fixed him with his very best jaded stare.

"This is not crap. *This* is music," he said in his low, husky voice. "Not like the junk you listen to." He closed his eyes, leant back against the seat and began nodding his head in time to the sultry John Lee Hooker blues that was playing.

Mac snorted. "You would think that, wouldn't you? It goes with the Elvis poster... "

"What?" Vic's voice hit the upper registers and his head whipped around to regard the man beside him. "What Elvis poster?"

"You're so damned staid. I bet you have one of those Elvis paintings on velvet hanging over your bed." Mac glanced at Victor from beneath his lashes in an attempt to see what effect the jibes might be having on him. Vic was sitting upright now, and his face was flushed. Bullseye!

Victor pulled a face at the younger man.

"Ick! That is *so* tacky." How in hell could Mac think he'd be *that* backward?

"So are you," Mac shot back irritatedly. He hated this assignment, hated his life even more; and Victor was always the easiest target for his frustrations.

"Yeah?" Vic growled, knowing he was being sucked in and not caring.

"Yeah," Mac challenged, daring the older man to deny it.

Victor opened his mouth to speak again but, "Mac..." was all he managed before his partner interrupted him.

"Just look at you. You never change. Don't you ever progress? Move on? Live a little?" Mac was getting into his stride now. He'd made a hobby of needling Vic and it looked as though tonight was a good night to indulge.

Victor snorted at that. "I have hidden depths, thank you. And what about you? You act like you're 14 most of the time."

Mac turned to survey his companion, and smiled a slow, taunting smile as he shook his head.

"Your depths are so well hidden you can't even find them, Victor. At least I can accept changes... look at new things. I'm not tied to the past the way you are."

Victor looked hurt. The crease at the top of his nose wrinkled, and he appeared to be treating Mac's words to some kind of introspective scrutiny.

"It's not a bad thing to know where you come from, Mac," he said hesitantly.

Mac gazed at Victor, taking in the large, expressive eyes and the earnest expression. He's so pretty, he thought. Why is he so straight?

"Where do you come from, Victor?" he asked, in a voice that was probably softer and kinder than he'd really meant it to sound.

Vic's eyes opened wide. A little shocked by the question and the thrill that ran through him at the softness in Mac's voice he asked incredulously, "What?"

Mac smirked a bit, replied, "I asked you where you came from. Gonna tell me?"

Victor looked at the younger man for a long moment and shook his head in wonder. Where did that come from? He finally went on with his thought as though Mac had never spoken. "He who forgets the past is doomed to repeat it..."

Mac was frustrated. Vic just kept on ducking him. "Yeah? Like this fucking tape, I suppose," he snapped.

Vic looked over at the younger man and sighed. He was tired of the constant posturing. "Tell you what, Mac...how about we compromise? Look in the glovebox."

The young man wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously, and Vic sighed again. When would he learn to keep his big mouth shut? Sure enough, the expected smart aleck remark floated across.

"You gonna compromise me with whatever you've got in the glovebox? " Mac was opening the glove compartment even as he spoke, and didn't see the wince or the withering look that Victor threw his way.

"Oh, great, a copy of the Karma Sutra and a six pack," crowed Mac, determined to get some kind of a rise out of his partner.

"What?" the older man spluttered, attempting unsuccessfully to nudge his irritating partner out of the way. "Move over," he muttered.

Mac refused to give ground. "Uh... What am I looking for, Mansfield?" Vic sat back when he realized that Mac was teasing him yet again.

"Um, tape?" he muttered again, and waited expectantly for Mac to pull the item out.

Mac deliberately retrieved the wrong kind of tape. "Duct tape," he said with a smirk, "you're gonna tie me up and ravish me?" Take a hint, Mansfield, he thought as he surveyed the other man's mounting frustration.

Vic sighed again. Damn, the kid was exasperating. "Brat," he replied, not caring whether Ramsey liked it or not. He leaned over and muscled into Mac's space, finally coming up with what he wanted. "You like Depeche Mode?"

Mac gasped a little as Vic leaned over him. "Uh... Violator? Yeah," he fought frantically to keep himself under control as he felt the heat of that body so close to him.

Victor shivered in response to the small intake of breath above him. "Um...no," he stuttered. What the hell was wrong with him tonight? He was usually cooler than this around his partner.

Mac was very still. Vic somehow always managed to make his head spin, despite the fact that he knew the other man was not only straight but as square as...as an 8-track. Mac knew that if the other man ever got an inkling of how he really felt, he'd probably not see Victor for dust.

Despite his efforts to stay silent, he heard his own very croaky voice. "I'm..uh... It's... Oh, good grief, Vic." He put his hand out to touch Vic's hair as the older man leant across his lap, fumbling in the glove box. "In Your Room - is that one on there? It's an astonishing song."

Victor straightened, the tape held triumphantly in his hand and moved to hand it to Mac. " 'In Your Room' is on 'Songs Of Faith and Devotion'," he declared. "Go ahead...put it in."

"Uh..." Mac, visions of Victor leaning down to bury his face against the definite hard-on he seemed to be sporting, was temporarily at sea. The lightbulb inside his head finally began to shine through the patina of lust that had temporarily darkened it. "Oh, yeah, the tape..."

He punched the button that ejected the offending John Lee Hooker, and inserted the new one. Victor closed his eyes and bopped to the beat, unaware of the effect he was having on the hapless ex-thief. Mac sat back in his own seat, trying his damnedest not to look at Vic, and failing lamentably. He just couldn't seem to take his eyes off the man sitting beside him.

Victor finally looked over at his companion when the driving bass line of 'I Feel You' died away to find Mac staring at him in amazement and grinned sunnily. "I love that song," he said, "it's been a real long time."

Mac shook his head a bit to clear it. He could grow to like this side of Vic - hell, maybe even more than that. "So tell me about you, Vic," he said determinedly. "Don't you ever dream?"

The smile faded, to be replaced by a thoughtful look. "Yeah...I used to," his tones were reluctant, "...and then my life fell apart. So I try not to now." Mac could have kicked himself.

"Lives do that, don't they?" Soft, understanding, infinitely gentle as he realized that Vic had suffered as much as he on their paths to where they were now.

"Yeah." Vic's voice was just as soft, a smoky, velvet rasp in the dark.

"We're fucking ghost men since she got her clutches on us," Mac mused bitterly.

Victor looked down at the floor. There was no sense denying it. "Yeah, we're gonna die here, you know."

Mac startled at the grimness in Vic's tone. "Tonight, you mean?"

Victor looked over quickly. "No, in general," he said. "She's got us here and she's gonna use us up and throw us away like so much garbage."

"Don't you ever want anything?" Mac's voice was raw in the half-light, and his face twisted as he spoke. "I mean anything that you can have? I don't suppose I'll leave grandchildren lamenting me, but it would be nice to think that if I died, someone, somewhere...ah, fuck it!"

"What?" Vic sat, staring out at the dimly lit street, his face a mask of concentration. "Mac, what are you talking about?"

"It's okay, Vic. I just get this trapped feeling." Mac turned to take in Vic's face. The other man sat, his face a mask of anguish. His voice fell to a whisper. "Take a look at you. You must have wanted better than this at some time?"

Vic reached out to put his hand on Mac's leg, the instinctive gesture causing Mac to flinch. The hand lay, hot on Mac's knee. "I know what you mean. Yeah, there used to be things, but then I got framed and it all went to dust."

Mac shuddered at the feel of this man's hand on his knee, so close to where he'd spent long nights fantasizing about it being. "Jeez, Vic," he breathed.

Victor narrowed his eyes as he saw the shallow breathing and the felt the tremors under his palm. "Mac, you okay?" he asked, thinking his partner might be ill. "What's wrong? Did we miss the guy?"

Mac sighed, remembering this was his partner; his straight, by the book, moral, upright partner. "Nothing. It's no use anyway," he whispered sadly. "He didn't leave yet."

But Victor had heard what came before, and he turned Mac's face to his. Looking deep into his eyes, he said, "Mac, talk to me."

Mac wanted to believe so badly, so much that somebody like Vic could care about him.

"I...," he started, then changed tack. "You know what I want?" Then choking on fear, he turned flippant. "Ahhh... Forget it. Hell, what was I thinking?"

But Victor wouldn't be put off. "Mac," just one word, neither a question nor a demand. "Please talk to me."

And suddenly Mac Ramsey had had enough. "Fuck this, I'll do better than that!" he growled and grabbed a stunned, beautiful Victor Mansfield and kissed him--hard and hot and full on the lips.

Victor put up one hand to Mac's shoulder and pushed ineffectually, his vague struggle a mere formality, or so it seemed to Mac, who couldn't stop, couldn't go back right now. His senses were all on overload as he sank himself into the kiss. There was a moment of stretching time, and then suddenly Victor sighed and opened his lips against the press of Mac's mouth, turning his face to deepen the kiss.

Mac, encouraged, moaned, and slid his tongue tentatively past the barrier of Vic's teeth, and on to taste the man he'd fantasized about for so long. Meeting no protest and feeling Vic's own tongue begin to duel in response, he pulled Vic against his chest, until he was pressed up against Mac, and leaving one hand against Vic's cheek, he slipped the other around his waist to hold him close.

Eyes closed as he savored Victor, open to him at last, he almost leapt from his skin when Vic started pulling at his clothes, doing his best to yank the shirt from his pants. He pulled back a little way, and opened his eyes to gaze into Victor's. The other man was panting, and far from punching him out, he was still pulling at his shirt, and Mac could hear him mumbling, "Want you... Want you now."

When he realized exactly what Vic was saying, Mac pulled back a little more.

"Vic?" he asked uncertainly, "you mean...?"

Victor gave him that same sunny smile that Mac vowed to keep permanently on his face. "Please, baby," he whispered, "Wanted you for a while now."

Mac was stunned. All the wasted time... "So you..." he stammered.

Victor chuckled warmly. "Yeah."

The younger man blew out a harsh breath. "Oh, for Pete's sake...why the fuck didn't you tell me? I've been going crazy here..."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." The declaration was nothing if not heartfelt.

Vic looked away for a moment. "Well, I just never thought you'd want somebody as boring as me."

Mac stared at him, dumbfounded. All he could think of was that this was Vic, in his arms, right here and now, and... and we're in a goddam truck. There's not even a back seat, damn it to hell. He swooped in to kiss Vic again, mashing his mouth hard against the soft lips that pressed so willingly against his.

As the kiss ended, Mac chuckled. "Fuck it, Mansfield, the least you could do is drive an RV."

Victor laughed, and peeped speculatively at him from beneath sinfully thick eyelashes. "There's no fun in that."

Mac was busy delving down into Vic's clothing, exploring under his shirt, peeling back the front to expose Victor's chest. "No fun in an RV?" he mumbled, between nibbles. "There's a bed." He nuzzled down to lick and suck on Victor's neck.

Victor laughed and began trying to undo Mac's pants. "You never wanted to do it in a truck, baby?" he asked with deceptive innocence.

Mac growled dangerously. "Seems like every time I try and get close to you the stick shift sticks me, and I don't mean in a good way," He suddenly yelped as he finally felt Vic's hand touching him. It was so much hotter than his fantasies...

Victor took pity on his soon-to-be lover and started looking around frantically for people. Not finding any, he whispered, "come with me," in his partner's ear and started to open the door.

Mac perversely hung back. "Victor?" His confusion made him so gorgeous. "Who are you looking for at 3am?"

Victor kissed him lightly. "Do you want to get arrested, baby?"

"Not tonight. Not unless it's you taking me in for interrogation," but he still looked dubious.

"Just come on," Vic whispered urgently. He got out of the truck and crept towards the back.

"Oh, you want to..." Mac was adorable and Vic wanted to pounce. "In there?" he squeaked. "Oh, God!"

Vic grinned evilly and stuck his tongue in Mac's ear, "...shhh...trust me." He led the other man around to the tailgate, unlocked it and flipped a switch just inside the narrow space, turning on a small light to reveal a camping mattress laid over with sleeping bags.

"Oh, baby...," Mac breathed.

Victor grinned at him, his face beaming at the idea of surprising the ex-thief for a change. "It's tight quarters, but it's better than the cab would be." So saying, he shimmied into the space and waved Mac in after him.

Once inside, Mac groaned and took Vic in his arms to pull him on top while his mouth searched out the other man's lips and clung to them, soft and hot. His head spun - dizzy with need.

Gasping, the two of them rolled, limbs in a tangle as they tried to press every inch of themselves to the other. Vic pulled away from Mac's lips to nip sharply at his ear lobe, and then murmured huskily, "And with the cover, we've got complete privacy." Mac glanced up, and then moved to pull the loosened corner of the cover over them, grinning sheepishly.

Victor eyed him with what could only be considered bad intent. "So what'cha think, baby?"

Mac couldn't hear him. "Come on, Vic," he muttered, "for God's sake help me get these jeans off you." He was kissing Victor hard, and feeling his head start to swim as he finally tasted his partner's skin. Then the question kicked in. "Oh god, Vic, people will see us?" he asked a little nervously. That canvas looked rather thin now that he thought about it; and the tailgate was still open too.

Victor cradled his sweet face. "Shhh, I told you to trust me," he soothed gently. "I've taken care of that. Don't worry. Just love me."

Mac swooped in to kiss Victor once more, and ended up trembling. Victor noticed the hesitation in his eyes. "What, baby? What's wrong?" Oh, god, he can't back out...he can't, I want him too badly.

Mac looked at Vic and said miserably, "It's just that we might miss the perp."

Just great, thought Vic, he has to pick now of all times to start worrying about work. Then he got a perverse little idea. "Okay," he sighed, and pushed off the loose corner of the cover. 1...2...

Mac's response was almost instantaneous. "What? What the hell? Victor, where are you going?"

Gotcha, baby, the older man thought. "Well, we should watch out for the perp. We are working after all." He had an evil little grin on his face as Mac choked with rage.

"But this was your idea...you started this," Mac said helplessly, and then he noticed Vic's expression. Mac turned on Vic and grabbed hold of him, pulling him in tight and grinding against him. "I'm gonna finish it too," he growled. "God, Vic, you make me crazy." Kissing Victor hard, he muttered, "Jeez, baby, get back down here in the back of the truck."

Victor chuckled. "Your wish is my command, babe," and with that, he shimmied himself back down into the space, replaced the cover, and snagged a strap with his foot. Mac was puzzled until Vic reached down and grabbed it to pull the tailgate shut.

Mac reached out trembling hands and ran them over Victor's cheeks. "Do you know how much I want you? Oh, Vic." He kissed Vic again, losing himself in the taste and the smell of him.

Long moments passed, and there were no words as they both lay, content to kiss and explore each other, parting clothes and diving onto each new patch of skin uncovered with glee. Vic looked at his new lover, a little puzzled.

"I've waited so long for this, Mac... I thought you were just into girls."

"So did I, baby," Mac said. "I don't understand it myself, but somehow you do things to me." Mac kissed Vic again, pulling him in to lie against his chest. "We're gonna get awfully bruised in here, but I'm gonna fuck you anyway."

"You were teasing me...just trying to annoy me," Vic panted at the declaration, then broke off to nibble at the ear that his lips had discovered in their ceaseless voyage of exploration.

Mac chortled. "I'm good at that. You have any idea how gorgeous you look when you get mad? Those eyes...," he groaned, and started to burrow into Vic's throat sucking on the skin beside his collar-bone until there was a bruise the size of a silver dollar. He reared up for a moment, surveying it with pride.

Victor flushed under the scrutiny, and the heat in Mac's eyes made his cock want to punch a hole in his 501's. Blushing, he whispered, "you're the one with the beautiful eyes...big, dark, sexy...I want to fall into them and never come out again." Watching as Mac gently traced the mark with his finger, he remembered his lover's earlier statement. "Speaking of bruises, there was a reason I got the one with the large truck bed," he said mischievously.

Mac put his hand behind Vic's head, then paused, eyes wide. "What? What do you mean?. You knew you were gonna be making out in the back?" He was incredulous. Hidden depths indeed!

Vic was chuckling again. "Hey, I'm the one who never gets laid, remember? No...I actually got it for camping; sleeping on the cold ground is not my thing and the wide bed has more space between the floor and the top."

That explained the aftermarket dome light and switch set into the side panel. "Well, how much space do we need if you come down here with me?" Mac asked seductively, squirming his hips so that his silk-encased dick could rub against its rock-hard mate trapped in the tight denim of Vic's jeans.

Victor hissed in pleasure and slid his hands down inside Mac's underwear to squeeze his ass. "Impatient," he growled affectionately. "I'm right here, lover, and I'm not going anywhere," he sensuously kneaded the strong muscles and moaned at the powerful flex of Mac's hips as the movement brought them into contact again and again.

Mac started ripping at buttons with shaking hands as the sound made him harder than ever. "Oh, yes you are," he declared breathlessly. "You're coming with me. All the way, Vic. Right now."

Victor sighed dreamily. "Yes... oh, god, yeah...just like that... you are so hot Mac...," he again reached down into his lover's pants to wrap his hand around the burning erection he found there and gently caress the weeping tip with his thumb.

Mac growled and rolled over to pin Vic down while yanking up on his T-shirt. "Off! Off, dammit!"

He only managed to push the offending garment up Victor's chest with a small tear, and moaned, lying back and pulling Victor down so that he was half on top of him, strong body hard against him.

"Oh, please, baby, touch me...yeah. Just like that. You're the one that I thought was straight. I never dreamed... Oh, yes... " He lay, relishing the feelings as Vic's mouth roamed his torso, and then dove down himself to lick at the hollow of Vic's belly. "I wanna eat you. I wanna be inside you. Need you now, baby."

Victor was busy. He was kissing, nipping, and licking wherever his lips could touch, but he lifted his head at that to laugh at Mac's demands.

"Rip it off me, why don't you? ...Oh, shit...that's the spot, baby... do it all...whatever you want...I'm up for anything."

There was a loud tearing sound, and suddenly, Vic's T-shirt was two sleeves, and not much of anything else as Mac took his word for the deed and rent it asunder in a truly impressive show of impatience.

Victor laughed delightedly at the show of possessiveness and said, "leave me something to get home in, Mac."

Mac licked his way up to one pink nipple and latched on, tugging at it with teeth just this side of razor sharp. "You're going nowhere without me, baby," he growled and started tearing at Vic's jeans.

Victor yipped in pleasured distress. "Yikes! Wait, baby... slow down a little," and he hastened to shimmy out of the offending denim.

"I've waited for so long already," was the heartfelt plea, but he pulled back, just a little. "Take them off, Vic, please, take them off."

Victor did so, grinning evilly as he revealed the fact that he was wearing no skivs, "There ya go, baby."

Mac gasped. "Oh, fuck! You were like that all this time?"

Victor gazed at him through slitted, smoldering eyes. "Yup."

Mac felt as though he'd somehow stepped though a hole in the space-time continuum. This was Vic? His mind reeled.

"Oh, my..." He dropped his head down to nuzzle into Vic's groin, lapping up the fluid that had begun to bead on the head of his cock. "You're too much. How come I never knew?"

The other man was moaning as Mac assaulted his most sensitive areas with hot mouth and lashing tongue. As Mac went down on him with a vengeance he thrashed, and found the breath to stammer out, "I told...you...had...depth." It was almost too much for him. He grabbed Mac's short hair to still his onslaught. "Hey, let me turn around."

Mac mumbled around the mouthful of cock, not wanting to give it up right at that moment and then yelped as Victor yanked at his hair more fiercely. "Vic, baby, wanna taste you.. Let me..."

"Well, I wanna taste you too," said the ex-cop indignantly. "Let's go together, please?"

Mac looked into his lover's bright jade eyes and felt himself twitch hard. "Better hurry up then, baby. I'm gonna come just looking at you if you don't do...something with me." It was nothing less than the truth. Struggling to get out of his own clothes, buttons were flying all over the tiny space as he lost patience.

Victor muttered, "it's my favorite position. Here, let me help...," when he saw the battle ensue. Mac was on overload.

"Your favorite...? What?" He couldn't make sense of the non-sequitur, moaning as he was, and only half listening as he tried to take Vic's cock into his mouth.

Vic finally got him naked - and moaned at the sight. "Jesus, baby...you're beautiful...69, Mac...it's my favorite...," he wasn't much better, and he decided to skip talking altogether in favor of tasting the hard proud flesh in front of him. It was heaven.

For Mac, it was more than heaven. Vic's mouth was as talented as any he'd ever experienced, and he found himself wondering..."God, Vic, how many...? I mean... Oh, fuck!" He subsided as Victor swallowed him deep, and then shrugged mentally and reciprocated, allowing Victor's cock to slide in past his tongue and into his throat with a groan.

Victor hissed, his breath puffing out around Mac's cock and he whimpered, "Oh god, so good..."

The ex-thief agreed completely. He moaned slightly, and his hands crept around to hold Victor's thighs while he tried to swallow him whole. Vic was sucking him hard, humming as he reached around to find and finger Mac's tight bud, caressing him and practically driving him out of his mind. He'd just decided that he couldn't take any more when Vic pulled away a little and began to lick at the head of Mac's cock, teasing it delicately while Mac stifled a scream.

Victor waited until Mac's legs were quivering and his muffled cries were desperate before plunging down hard and working his throat around Mac to push him over the edge and make him come harder and faster. It didn't take long, because Mac was pretty much there, and Vic's muffled hums of pleasure were all he'd really needed to make the top of his head explode. He wondered if somebody could die from too much pleasure. He certainly hoped not.

Victor, for his part, pulled back to taste Mac as he felt the heavy pulsing start, and came hard as he heard Mac's cries of fulfillment around his own flesh. But Mac was still sucking like a man possessed. He couldn't get enough of Vic, and he kept on sucking with little moans of ecstasy as the last drops of Victor's essence slid onto his hot tongue. Victor cried out, and finally pulled back as the stimulation was too much.

"Mac, please..."

Mac looked up, dazed. "OH, baby," he moaned, and slid up to hold Vic close.

Victor smiled and kissed him gently, erotically as he realized that he could taste himself on Mac's lips. Heaven; he was sure of it. "Jesus, Mac," he whispered, "how can you do this to me? How can you make me so nuts?"

The idea that he was making Victor nuts was somehow appealing to him. Mac threaded his fingers through Vic's hair, gently now, and kissed him back, putting his soul into the meeting of their lips.

"I dunno, Victor... just talent, I guess." He snickered gently as Victor moaned 'Brat!' into his mouth. "Do you think we can do this again without the obligatory fight next time?"

Vic eyed him, his eyes shadowed in the gloom of the back of the truck, and his voice, when he spoke, was tight, as though he was expecting to be rejected.

"D-do you want to? Do it again, that is?"

Mac took his time, kissing Vic again most thoroughly while he wondered just how someone as amazing as Vic could ever get such poor self esteem. Finally he took pity on Vic.

"Do you think you're ever gonna get rid of me now? Dream on, buddy."

He felt Vic's arms tighten around him convulsively, and nuzzled into his neck as Vic strained against him.

"Huh? Mac, don't think you have to say that, okay?"

Mac turned fierce. "Shut the fuck up, Mansfield. You have no choice in the matter. You belong to me now. Any questions?"

Victor started laughing. "Oh, really? You're so butch, baby. I think I like it."

"You'd better believe it, baby. And you're my bitch now. Got it?" he grinned cheekily, waiting to see how his beautiful lover would react.

"Excuse me?" Vic's voice went up questioningly and he grinned back. "I'm nobody's bitch," he replied haughtily.

Mac fluttered his eyelashes at the other man. "Gonna fight me?" he teased.

Victor turned smoldering once more. "Nope...gonna fuck you, and then I'm gonna make love to you till you beg for mercy," he leaned into his partner's ear and nipped it before whispering, "and then we'll see who's the bitch."

Mac gasped in reaction to the hot bolt of lust that sizzled through him. "When?" he panted. "Now?"

Victor smiled. "Unfortunately, no," he laughed at Mac's pout. "As nice as this is, we are supposed to be working," he kissed the end of Mac's nose, "and I want you in a proper bed, loverboy." Then he dropped his voice an octave and said, "but the fuck I can arrange for very, very soon."

Mac pouted a little more. "Did we lose him?" he asked breathlessly. "Is he gone? We can go home, right?" He checked his watch. "We've got at least another 6 hours before the Director kills us," he knew he was looking desperate, but he didn't think he could wait for the perp to show himself tonight, if he ever did.

"Down, boy," Victor scolded playfully, and then froze as he heard a noise close by. "Shhh," he cautioned as Mac went to speak again. "Did you hear that?" It was the distinct sound of a car break-in, coming from the front of his truck. Thinking that no good deed went unpunished, he growled, "Jesus, Mac. Only me...shit like this only happens to me." He very carefully poked his head up to see their target getting into his front seat. "Congratulations. Guess who's stealing my truck?"

Sticking his head up out of the cover for just a minute, Mac could see that it was all too terribly true. The villain that they'd waited all night to shadow had chosen that very moment to make off with Victor's beloved truck. Words somehow seemed inadequate.

"Baby, I... I'm sorry." It was really hard to keep a straight face as he spoke.

Victor was having a battle of his own as he struggled to find his pants and get them on while lying on his back in a swaying truck under an ex-member of the Chinese Mafia. The grunts and groans were more than a little arousing, and Mac was still having great difficulty not laughing.

"It's not your fault. It's just my karma," said Victor breathlessly and then went still as a terrible thought occurred to him. "Oh, shit! Mac, where's your gun?"

Mac rolled to lie on top of him, effectively stilling Vic's panic, and for a moment there were no more words as their mouths met once again. When he did speak, it was to try and reassure his nervous partner.

"My gun, in my boot, why?" He wasn't fighting laughter any more. Now he was fighting the urge to cover Vic and fuck him senseless. It didn't seem quite appropriate at that moment. He tried again. "Slow down, baby. We're going with him. He won't get there any faster than we will."

The words that followed brought the giggles bubbling back up to make things difficult for him. Vic's voice was tragic as he announced, "'Cause mine's in the cab."

Mac chortled helplessly into Vic's shoulder. "Oh, fuck, Victor...that's...that's," he couldn't even finish the sentence from laughing so hard.

"Tell me about it," Vic grumbled. "Jeez, it's not that funny."

Mac sobered with an effort. "It'll be okay, lover. Hey, he doesn't know we're here, right?"

Victor grimaced as their perp squealed around a corner. "Oh, man...he's gonna grind my brakes into the ground!" he muttered savagely. "Not yet... but we're gonna have to do something fast, Mac," he started to panic again.

"Calm down," Mac soothed. "In that case, we've got him. He's gotta get out of the truck eventually, and when he does, you jump his back, and I'll cover you both," he grinned evilly, "seeing as I have a weapon." He grabbed Victor when they were thrown together as they rounded another corner at a rather high rate of speed. "Woah, baby. Want me again so soon?" he teased.

Victor, however, was still muttering about his lover's off the cuff plan, "...Oh, yeah...that's a plan...that works...way to go, Mac..."

Mac couldn't resist pushing Vic's buttons a little more as they were once again thrown together. "Please, you're insatiable, baby."

By now, Victor had had enough. "Maaaac...," he warned.

"Yeah?" Mac couldn't help it, he was enjoying this.

"Shut up and put your pants on," there was no room for argument.

Mac sighed heavily. "Oh, come on, Vic...where's your sense of humor?"

"I lost it when the perp we were supposed to be watching stole my truck," was the answer as Vic tried to pull the tatters of his dignity back around himself along with his shredded t-shirt. Mac pouted and started putting on clothes, muttering about buttons.

Victor smiled softly. He felt bad for making Mac feel bad. "Mac?" he whispered.

"Gonna wear nothing but zippers from now on," floated up from the darkness.

"Yeah?" Victor was surprised into a quick burst of laughter as Mac wrestled with his clothing. "That's good, because I meant what I said about that fuck." He seized Mac's hair and kissed him quickly, pressing hard against him. Suddenly, the truck swerved in and pulled up. Vic released the ex-thief and the two of them poised, taut and waiting.

"Hold that thought, love. Here we go." Mac was ready.

"So don't go doing anything stupid." The words were out before he could recall them, and Mac looked back at him, aggrieved.

"Me? Stupid?" He grinned boyishly, and Vic rolled his eyes but grinned back.

"On three, okay?" The husky voice was breathy in his ear as they heard the perp open the door to the cab. "1...2..."

"3... Now!" Mac's voice was full of excitement as he hurled himself over the top of the truck, gun at the ready. "Hold it right there, sport."

Victor exploded out of the truck bed and grabbed the bad guy from behind, subduing him long enough for Mac to cuff him to the back of the truck.

"Get your gun, Victor. I'll call it in," Mac grinned a crazy triumphant grin at his partner.

But Victor was muttering again. "She's gonna have a field day with this; I can see it now: 'well, well, Mr. Mansfield...this is certainly in-ter-rest-ting'...fuck, why me? I hope you're happy," he snarled at the hapless perp as he whapped him across the back of the head. "I never get laid," he sighed unhappily as he realized just what he was in for over the rest of the night.

His partner walked over, and heedless of their wide-eyed quarry, allowed his lips to skate over the broad expanse of Victor's chest. He then mumbled, his mouth full, "Yeah, doesn't it piss you off?" When he'd gotten that glazed, hot look back in those incredible eyes, he said, "Well, whatever happens, you're coming home with me tonight."

Victor was incandescent. "Yeah?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yeah. I may or may not ever let you go again." Mac was beaming now, and Vic laughed as Mac fumbled for his cell phone to call Dobrinsky and tell him that they had arrested the perp and were bringing him in.

"That's fine by me." Vic reached into the truck to snag his gun once more, and then turned back as Mac scooped up the perp bodily. "Hey, Mac?"

Mac tossed the perp into the bed of the truck. "Yeah, babe. What? He moved around to climb back into the cab.

"What size bed do you have?" There was an evil grin on Vic's face, and Mac thought he could get used to it really fast.

"Unh... extra tall, queen size. Why?" He wasn't sure where this was going.

Victor eyed him and licked his lips. Mac felt himself stiffening up again, and knew that he was never going to be bored again.

"'Cause we're gonna need a king."

2: It's No Good

I'm going to take my time
I have all the time in the world
To make you mine
It is written in the stars above
The gods decree
You'll be right here by my side
Right next to me
You can run but you cannot hide

Don't say you want me
Don't say you need me
Don't say you love me
It's understood
Don't say you're happy
Out there without me
I know you can't be
Cause it's no good....

Vic startled when he heard the doorbell ring. "Fuck," he swore softly as a hot drop of the rich sauce splashed up and caught his arm. "Steady! You knew he was coming; you know why he's here. Take it slow."

He answered the door with what he hoped was a sincere smile on his face. "Hey, Mac...come on it, have a seat." He gestured vaguely toward the couch. Why am I so nervous? I feel like a schoolgirl on the first date... "I'm just finishing up in the kitchen." He winced a bit as he heard his own voice quaver slightly.

Mac winced as well. "Oh, shit, Victor, not more of your lame attempts at cooking?" Even as he said it, he wished he could take it back. He hadn't come here to fight.

Victor blinked slowly. "Unlike you," he responded with quiet dignity, "I actually have ingredients on hand. It works a lot better that way," and with that, he disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Well, it would if you ever prepared anything edible," Mac replied perversely. What the hell was wrong with him tonight? He'd been waiting all week for this.

Victor sighed. Mac had only been here for a minute and a half, and already this was turning into a disaster. Maybe the Director had been right.

"If you don't want to eat it, we can order out. I wouldn't want to force you."

Mac sighed as well. "No, no. That's okay. Give it your best shot. I guess I can call in at the Golden Dragon on the way home."

Victor shook his head at that. It was another reminder of how a pretty female face and body had turned Mac's head. He envied Kathy Chow, the Dragon's owner, because she'd seen more of his beautiful lover than he had over the past seven days.

"And how is Kathy, by the way?" Not that Victor particularly cared, but he wanted to make some kind of connection - something that would let him know that the other night hadn't been imaginary. The past week had been a nightmare for him. Far from spending his free time in Mac's arms, he'd spent every minute under the auspices of Dobrinsky, paying penance for who the hell knew what.

Mac saw the hurt in Vic's eyes and moved towards him, wanting to touch him but not quite sure if it was within the rules. He was totally out of his depth here. Funny how all of a sudden he was tongue-tied, when it had been no problem at all to talk to Vic before they'd become lovers.

"Oh, K-kathy?" His voice was a study in nonchalance, even as he agonized over what to say that might break the ice. "Fine, I guess."

Vic saw Mac hesitate. He wondered just what was going through the other man's mind. Clearing his throat, he broke the silence before it became impenetrable. "That's good." As if he gave a shit! "Listen, can you help me set the table? The wine's in the fridge."

"I guess." Mac's lack of enthusiasm was apparent as he slouched off towards the kitchen. "We gonna sit at the table, Mansfield? Is it your birthday?" He busied himself with cutlery and glasses, and tried to avoid the hurt on his partners' face. Hell, he thought, this had better start to get better very soon, or he's gonna throw me out.

"I just wanted to have a nice meal. Is that okay?" Victor winced again at the hurt look on Mac's face. If we don't start clicking real soon, he's gonna be running out the door. Oh, baby...why is this going so wrong for us?

Mac's eyes widened. "Uh... sure, fine," he stammered. Inside, he was screaming, Vic! I'm sorry! Come back to me, please!

Victor's breath caught at the wide-eyed gaze. "I hope pork medallions are okay," he croaked hoarsely, "I made some pesto, too," but Mac wasn't listening anymore, he was laughing. "What?"

Mac couldn't help it. He'd gotten this image in his head and it just wouldn't go. "Gonna hang them on a chain? The Disco look...with pork," he giggled helplessly. It wasn't that funny, but the tension of the moment made it seem like the most hilarious thing he'd heard in ages.

Vic chuckled too. "No," he answered, somewhat pedantically - the 'Great Vittorio' lecturing on haute cuisine. "What that means is they are small, round cutlets, very tender and succulent. They're a little smaller than a regular chop."

"Oh, right." Finally getting himself back under control, he snuck a look at Victor's face and decided to push it just a little. "Succulent, huh?"

"Very," was the low reply as Vic smoldered for him a tiny bit. Inside, he screamed, Thank You, God!

"Fuck it, Victor...I..." Mac almost blurted out an apology, but at the last minute his cautious nature kicked in and he headed off to open the wine bottle. "Never mind."

Vic was trying to stay patient. He'd seen the look in Mac's eyes, and knew that the other man was battling himself. All he hoped was that the battle would end in favor of their relationship. He didn't think he'd be able to bear it if he lost Mac now. He shrank inwardly, felt the shutters going up behind his eyes. The last thing I want is for him to see how much I care. He cleared his throat.

"Is asparagus okay with you?"

Mac sensed his withdrawal and gave him a long, slow look.

"Sure, Vic. Let's just eat." He licked his lips as his gaze traveled the length of Victor's body, "I'm starving."

Noticing the look, Victor relaxed a little. He returned it with interest, his eyes lingering on the tight pants that Mac wore.

"Yeah, so am I." Damn, now I'm nervous all over again! He laughed without any real mirth, and then changed the laugh to a cough. "The butter sauce is rather rich, but it’s perfect for steamed asparagus. I hope you like it," he came within a hair of brushing against Mac as he passed through the doorway with the dish.

After almost dropping it, Mac wrapped the open wine bottle in a towel and carried it back to the table. He didn't think that there was any way he could possibly eat anything - with the possible exception of Victor himself. He took a seat.

"Okay, Mother, bring it on," he said, with the air of a man waiting for his execution. Grinning hugely, Victor filled Mac's plate for him and passed it over.

"You're not gonna know what hit you!" he enthused. After the first disastrous time, he’d been waiting for a chance to cook for his very picky partner again, and tonight’s menu had been drawn up with an eye toward showing off some of the more difficult and flavorful dishes in Vic’s repertoire.

"Apart from Salmonella, you mean," said Mac, surveying his plate dubiously. Damn! There went his mouth again! But he clearly remembered the last time Vic had cooked for him and wasn’t exactly willing to repeat the experience. Oh, baby; the things I endure for you...well, come on, Ramsey, don't drag it out--it would be torture.

"Mac," Vic was laughing again. "Salmonella is chicken. You get hookworms from pork."

Noticing Victor's evil grin, Mac smiled, saying nonchalantly, "Oh, right, hookworms -right! Just as long as I know. I'd hate to get the wrong thing and baffle medical science," well, this was good; this was okay. Vic wasn’t trying to hit him, or even worse, giving him that look that made Mac feel like he’d just drowned somebody’s kitten. He relaxed the tiniest bit.

Victor rolled his eyes. Mac was such a smart-ass. "Malcolm, shut up and eat," the chastisement was given with a tender smile. I've missed him so much, he thought in amazement. One week, and he's so wrapped in my soul it's scary. It's good, but fuck, is it ever scary!

Mac shut up and resigned himself to try Vic's 'Pork a la Disco Inferno', cringing just a little bit as he took his first bite. To his surprise, it tasted really good, excellent in fact, although naturally he was never going to admit that to Vic. Instead, he coughed a little, theatrically, and clutched his stomach, moaning in agony.

Seeing the wicked grin widen, Mac froze in mid moan. "What?" he asked. "You're looking at me. Isn't it enough that you're killing me? You have to watch me die, too?"

Vic decided to play along. "Awww. Hey, Mac, you okay? It's not too spicy, is it?" he asked with just the right touch of mock concern in his voice.

"Spicy? There's spice in this stuff? I thought it was arsenic," the younger man shot back, getting into the spirit of the game at last.

Victor smirked at the poke. "Arsenic is an extremely poisonous semi-metallic element, atomic number 33, group 15 of the Periodic Table and anything over 65 milligrams--which is a single grain, by the way--is at the very least going to make you pretty sick," he said a bit smugly. "You don't particularly look like you're dying, Mac. In fact, you just look kinda constipated to me," and I’ve got just what you need to make it all better, lover, he thought wickedly.

"You don't think I'm dying?" the younger man pouted outrageously.

"No." Vic saw the pout, and felt himself harden as he took in the full lips and remembered what they had done to him in the back of his truck. Oh, shit...can't go there. I promised myself I'd take it slow. But his body refused to listen to his brain.

Mac gave his lover his best, full-on, soulful puppy-dog gaze. "I am, you know. Dying, I mean."

Fuck it. I'm lost. Here I come, baby. "You are? Let me see," and with that, he planted a long, slow wet kiss on those perfectly pouty, luscious lips. It was just as good as he remembered; better even for having been denied so long.

The kiss was sweet and hard, and Mac forgot everything as he felt Vic's tongue sweep into his mouth, red wine flavoring his lips. He gave it all up to Vic with a gasp.

"God, Vic. I really, really missed you."

"I missed you too, Mac." He pulled his chair around the corner so that he sat a little closer to the ex-thief. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you think I'd changed my mind."

Mac leaned in and allowed himself to be petted. "I didn't see you all week, and you never answered my calls. I thought you hated me," there was the slightest bit of petulance in his voice.

"Oh, Mac, never." Vic nuzzled into his lover's neck. "But I *told* you she'd make our lives hell for what we did." He didn't need to name the 'she' to whom he was referring, and he felt a shudder run through Mac at the oblique mention.

"Why? What happened?" Absently, Mac had begun munching his way through the food on his plate. "Why couldn't you come to me, talk to me about it? I was hurting really badly."

"Mac, slow down; it isn't gonna run away," the older man said gently, realizing he sounded just like his mother. He sighed. "So was I. You know she fucking put Dobie on my back?" He was still incredulous. She'd had the nerve to treat him like some first-year newbie! "I haven't been disciplined in years, Mac!"

Mac groaned. "Oh, no. The cars?"

"Yeah, and some other little nasty jobs." Mac winced. He was intimately acquainted with Dobrinsky's 20 cars. He'd been there more times than he cared to remember. Vic grimaced in disgust. "I think he deliberately busted that sewer pipe," he mused grimly, and Mac gave an ill concealed snort of laughter.

"But Vic, how come you care?" He'd felt the stiffening as Vic heard his mirth, and spoke rapidly to cover it. "I mean, it's not as though you're in love with the work. You said yourself that the best thing about it is that you don't have to dress up."

Vic thought a long moment. "Actually, I do like the work," he admitted. "It's the methods and the superiors I sometimes have a problem with."

"I hear you there," Mac muttered in agreement.

"Even the methods I can overlook sometimes, but..." He stalled out helplessly, aware of the hidden eyes and ears all around them.

"But?"

A huge breath, and then, "But, Jesus, Mac! I can't take the constant monitoring. She knows everything we do! It isn't right, you know?" Mac nodded. He did know.

"At least you don't have her..." He shuddered. "Stroking you... touching you..." There was a pause, and then a thought occurred. "You don't, do you?"

Vic considered. "She did once...ugh!" Then the implications of the question sunk in and he whipped around to contemplate his lover, who was busily devouring medallions of pork, and growled possessively. "When did she touch you?"

"She's always doing it!" Mac's voice was indignant. "Sometimes I think that my bedroom is a fucking freeway! It's like she has this need to grope me. It's... indecent, that's what it is."

"What?" Vic was plainly furious. He turned away from Mac, growling, "I'll fucking kill her! She didn't..." he paused as the memory of their superior's liberties and their 'meeting' the other night finished gelling and a horrible thought occurred to him.

Mac gulped. "She..."

"She didn't touch you when you were naked, did she?" Vic was looking dangerously angry now.

Mac flinched. When did she not? The woman seemed to feel as though he was her own private kitty toy. “Uh... yeah, actually she always does," he admitted reluctantly. Judging by the quickly shuttered look in those bright green eyes, it was the wrong thing to say.

Mac would rather have been almost anywhere else at that moment, but he knew Vic needed soothing after the little bombshell he’d just dropped. "Calm down, man. You know it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just one of her petty power trips,” he shrugged a bit and concentrated on his dinner once more, suddenly ashamed and unable to face the accusation in Victor’s steady gaze.

Victor looked at him for a long moment, trying to absorb this information he’d just been given. "When?" he finally asked, very quietly. "Tell me, baby," he pleaded when Mac didn't answer, turning his partner to face him. He had an idea of what Mac would say, but wanted to hear the words anyway.

Mac was thinking that it had been a mistake to bring it up. "Oh, baby, I forget. All the damn time," drop it, please, lover. Drop it.

Seeing the desperation in his eyes, Vic gently stroked his face. "Malcolm," he pleaded - unconsciously using Mac's given name; the one he knew no one else ever called him.

"She wakes me up, gropes me and then she's outa there," Mac said defensively. Come on, Vic, cut me a break here, he silently pleaded. His plate was empty.

Hating to do it, but unable to leave it alone, Vic continued to press the younger man.

"Malcolm," he pleaded, caressing his lover with his voice, eyes and hands. He knew that look, had seen it too often on abuse victims, and it twisted his gut to see it on his sweet baby's face.

"Will you stop with that Malcolm shit?" Mac was on the defensive now, trying to get away from his partner's intensity. He hated his given name, although coming from Victor it sounded wonderful. It made him feel safe and wanted; still, he knew once Vic found out about the last time the Director had come to see him, it would be over.

"No," Vic said firmly. "Now spill it. When's the last time she did?" Be strong, my man; I've got you. Never again.

"I think it was Tuesday," Mac whispered, red-faced. "Might have been Wednesday. I don't remember. Why?" You idiot, you know why. He’s gonna kick you to the curb for being such a slut. He knew it wouldn’t matter that he hadn’t wanted it or that he’d never actually fucked their boss. His body had still betrayed him, and he’d lose the ex-cop because of it.

Even though he knew it was coming, Victor exploded anyway. "That bitch!" he said, much more angrily than he'd intended.

Mac flinched. "What? Come on, Vic. It's no big deal. You know how she is." I'm sorry; I'm sorry; I'm so sorry! I didn’t want her...I only want you. Please, let me make it up to you...

Victor, caught up in his own misery, didn't see the look on Mac's face.

"'Cause she came to see me. Told me I was poaching." Oh, God, what am I gonna do? I want to kill her! I am so sick of these games.

Mac blinked in surprise. "Poaching? You have to be kidding. Poaching what? How?"

"Apparently, you." Vic took one of his partner's hands between his own and pierced him with a deep, searching look. "Tell me something?" He was clearly embarrassed, and as Mac waited, his face went through a whole series of emotions. Finally, he bit his thumb, grunted and blurted it out. "Do...do you want her? Like that? I mean, I know she's beautiful, in a cold sort of way, but...I couldn't imagine..." He shuddered and hung his head.

Mac shuddered in sympathy. He really had to disabuse Vic. The very thought was enough to make his dick turn inside out and hide within his body cavity. "You know what? She scares me to death."

"Me, too." The truth rang in Victor's voice, and then his gaze turned soulful. "What about me? Do you want me?"

"The thought of..." Mac was burbling on, and it took a minute for Vic's words to sink in. He stopped abruptly. "What? How can you ask that?" He was as sincere as he had ever been as he looked at his insecure lover. "I haven't thought about anything else for the past week."

Those beautiful jade eyes burned with intensity. "I ask because I need to know if I should fight for you or if you'd rather just let it be," he trembled the slightest bit as he waited for Mac's answer.

"You don't have to fight for me," Mac whispered. He could see that Vic still refused to believe his own luck. "Come on, Victor, I don't want her. Don't want anyone else but you, man."

"Really? Not even LiAnn?"

Ouch! "You know what? I think I wanted her because you had her." Mac laughed weakly at the look on the other man's face. "I know. I'm a sick man."

Vic looked away briefly. "And I wanted to hold on to her because I knew you could take her back." He laughed as well. "Aren't we the pair?" he said wonderingly.

Mac dropped his fork and pulled Vic to him. "Get this straight," he growled, "you're mine right now." God, when was this man going to learn?

"I'm yours forever, baby," Vic breathed as he laid his head on Mac's chest. "Never gonna be anyone else for me...I can feel it," he could feel Mac tense and hugged him tighter. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he listened to the strong heart thunder in his ear. "I shouldn't be saying that," he mumbled as he kissed Mac's neck, "don't want to spook you..."

Overwhelmed by the declaration, Mac kissed him, pulling him in hard and knocking glasses and plates off the table as he did. He leant Victor back, knocking the sauce dish over onto the table, spreading butter sauce everywhere. Their mouths locked, fierce and hot, while their hands roamed each other frantically. When they finally separated, Vic pulled away panting, not even noticing the chaos that their embrace had caused, and whispered, very softly, "God, I love you...love you so much," with a look of absolute amazement on his face.

The words were quiet, but Mac had caught them and he groaned as he looked at Vic, lips kiss-swollen and face flushed with desire. He thought that he'd never seen anything quite so sexy in his life. "Oh, fuck, Victor... Come on. You have to come here." Tugging at Vic's shirt, he moved in again wanting to repeat the exercise.

Vic started to unbutton Mac's shirt, and peeped up at him through thick lashes. "Yeeeessssss," he hissed softly. "I promised you, didn't I? I always keep my promises." Then he laughed at Mac's confusion. "Promised to fuck you, baby, remember?" he drawled in his husky, bedroom voice.

Mac moaned. He remembered, that was true, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle what Victor was suggesting. He stiffened a little. "Oh, Vic," he whispered shakily as his nerves ran riot and his blood pounded in his ears. This was something he’d never done, not even when he was a Hong Kong street rat, stealing and selling the occasional blowjob to survive.

Vic felt the tension in his lover's muscles, and had begun feeling insecure all over again. He searched Mac's face with hazy eyes, looking for a clue as to how Mac might really be feeling. "You do want me to fuck you, don't you?"

Mac wasn't sure. He didn't know. Right now he was sure it was a bad idea, even though he wanted Vic, wanted to please him. He groped for something to say to Vic that would let him know how he felt without hurting him. "I need you so badly." Shit! That wasn't it. Where had that come from?

"I'll make sure you never remember what it's like to have her hands on your skin." Vic was pushing back Mac's shirt, dragging at the buckle of his belt in an effort to unfasten his pants and planting hot wet kisses wherever he found a new patch of skin.

Mac was shuddering under the attention. Vic was hot and his tongue was wonderfully inventive. He felt good against Mac's bare skin and the ex-thief suddenly thought, I could do this--with him.

"Now?" The word was a croak, and Vic smiled at him, swooping in to kiss him again.

"Right now," Kiss! "Right here," Kiss! "You want me?" Fusion occurred, sensual melding in a long, slow, silken sharing of mouths.

Mac broke from the embrace gasping. "Fuck, yeah," his hands trembled horribly as he joined his lover in pulling at his suddenly offensive clothing. I want you more than I can even think about; so much more than I could ever have thought possible. The realization scared the living daylights out of him.

Vic hit his knees when Mac's pants finally yielded, peeling them and the boxer briefs down the long, long legs and off, like a child with a special present. Unable to resist, he sucked his beautiful lover hard into his mouth.

Mac tossed his head back with a harsh cry and threaded his hands into the short, dark hair. "Holy cow, Vic," he moaned helplessly, feeling the pleasure build as Victor slowly pulled up and sensuously lapped at the clear, bitter syrup welling up from the purple head of his painfully swollen member. He was so hard, harder than he’d ever been in his life, and watching Victor go down on him so eagerly was threatening to make him lose all self-control. He felt his hips start to buck and pushed on his lover in a panic. No! Please! I want it to last...

Vic looked up, seeing Mac's problem, and grinned around his mouthful. Regretfully, he pulled away from the other man and sat back on his heels.

Mac whimpered. "Oh, Victor. Please...please... "

"Hang on, baby." Vic pushed the taller man back against the table's edge, his mouth hot and slick as he browsed over Mac's chest. "Gonna make you feel so good," he whispered.

"I feel so good already." Mac's flippant smile was an effort, and it was evident that he was still nervous as Victor began to take control. "You're gonna fuck me?" His knees felt loose and disjointed all of a sudden. "I need to sit down."

Vic smiled at him, and then laid his mouth against Mac's ear, his whispers causing thrills to run up and down Mac's spine. "Oh, you bet I am. You want it?" At Mac's shaky nod, he indicated the table. "Then sit up here."

Mac blinked. "On the table," he said slowly. Wasn't that something people only did in cheesy porno flicks?

"Yes," Victor smiled slyly, and it did funny things to Mac's heart rate. "Humor me."

With a dubious, "Okay," Mac reluctantly boosted his butt onto the table, barely missing the butter sauce pooled there. His reward was a slow, honeyed kiss.

"Thank you," Vic whispered as he suddenly thought of their discussion the other night. As talented as that sinful mouth was, Vic really didn't think that Mac had gone this far before with another man; and it made him melt to think that Mac would be giving him a gift as precious as his virginity. If he was Mac’s first male lover, Victor vowed to make it as sweet and hot as possible for the younger man, with no time or room for regrets. "Mac?" he whispered gently, stroking and soothing his trembling lover. "Trust me? Just a little?"

Mac blew a harsh breath. I said I could do this...and I want to so badly... "I...I trust you. I want you, Vic." He ran his hands down over Victor's sides to cup his butt and knead the solid muscles.

Victor nibbled Mac's neck and caught something out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah? Look up at the chandelier," he whispered. Some perverse little seed within him sprouted and grew at the sight of the little red indicator nestled within the fixture and he welcomed it with open arms. The Director wanted to watch? Well, then, let her watch this...

"The chandelier?" It was a moan, rather than a question. "What? I'm confused, man," he marveled at the fact he'd managed a complete sentence even though Victor had seemingly turned into a vampire and was sucking on his neck hard enough practically to draw blood. "Jesus, fuck...that hurt!" he yelped. He squinted at the chandelier. "I see a light. What do you want me to see?"

"Little red one, baby?" Vic traced the vivid new bruise with his finger. It was a symbol of his possession, and it thrilled him to see it on Mac's pale skin. Let her try and beat that. She could posture all she wanted, but they both knew the Director could never have what she'd really like from Mac. It was time she accepted that, and Victor cherished the opportunity to give a very graphic demonstration of the fact.

Mac's eyes widened as realization hit. "Oh Fuck, Vic! She's watching us. She's watching all of this," he trembled just a bit again. "Want me to shoot the thing out?" he asked, only half joking.

Vic's mouth claimed him again, hard and moist, as Mac quailed. "No. Leave it. Let her watch," he whispered gently in Mac's ear.

His hands were everywhere, stroking and teasing, and Mac tried one last time to stay remote as he felt Vic's passion threatening to overwhelm them both. The last thing he wanted was to give the Director bedtime viewing. "Vic, what are you doing? We'll never live it down." Mac's protest was feeble--even he could hear the lack of conviction in his voice--and finally he relaxed, melting against Victor as he returned his kisses. Strong arms held him tight, and Mac suddenly knew that this would be okay.

"What's to live down?" Vic breathed. "We love each other. This is what people in love do."

Mac shivered in delight as Vic's hot mouth assaulted his ear again. "Okay...but I think you should know what she's capable of."

Heh. She should know what I'm capable of, thought Victor. "This is my house. She's invading my privacy. Fuck her if she can't deal with it. I'm not giving her the satisfaction of backing down this time."

Mac was stunned. "Oh, boy, Vic, you're so..." Words like 'brave', and 'rash' and 'foolhardy' swam through his mind. Then he lost words as his heart swelled, and he grabbed hold of Vic instead, pulling the ex-cop to stand between his legs as Mac sat on the table.

"So, what, baby?" there was a thread of laughter in Vic's husky voice.

"Jeez, baby, more than I can stand," was the semi-coherent answer. "Oh, fuck yeah!" His broken tones paid homage to Vic's clever hands. "Do that..."

Vic chuckled wickedly. "Hmmm, you like?"

"Ooh..." Mac spluttered as Victor attacked one of his aching nipples with an agile tongue. "Like isn't in it," he panted.

"What is in it then, Mac?"

Vic's eyes alone could undo him, burning so brightly with lust - with desire. "Christ, Vic. Need you ask? I..." He hesitated, unsure of himself again. This was as dangerous as losing his virginity, maybe more so, because in all the time he’d been sexually active, he had never told any of his partners he loved them-not even LiAnn. Even though he’d nearly gotten killed defying their adopted family to keep her from having to marry Michael.

But she’d never really pressed for the words, and he’d never really felt the need to say them. Now, it was different and much more frightening because he desperately wanted to say them and was afraid he didn’t know how. Fuck, Victor...I can’t do this...help me...

"What, baby?" That hot, sexy whisper tickling his ear once more...

"I think... Oh, fuck. You drive me crazy." Oh, God, why are you pushing...I can't do it...

Somehow, Vic understood. "You can say it, I won't hurt you. I can see it there, in your eyes; feel it in the beat of your heart under my palm," Trust me. Trust me enough to say the words out loud...

Vic was driving him to insanity and laying him bare, exposed, vulnerable. I can't, Vic... please...

"I need you so much," and suddenly, that wasn't enough anymore. "Oh, fuck it. I love you. There!" But strangely, he felt lighter, happier; especially when he saw the look of pure joy on Victor's face. "Now for God's sake," he grouched, "just please don't make me wait any more. It's like visiting the dentist."

Vic held him, stroking the long back with trembling hands. "No more waiting, I promise - but..." he could feel his heart thumping painfully in his chest as he got ready to ask the most important question of their burgeoning relationship.

"Now what?" Mac felt as though he was in a dream. The wine, the meal and Vic's caresses were all conspiring to make his entire body tingle. He felt as though he would burst and he needed what Victor could do for him, more than anything he'd ever thought possible.

Vic's voice was still low, and his murmur was throaty, sexy as he spoke. "Mac, listen to me. Have you ever been fucked like this? By a man, I mean? I need to know." No regrets, baby; for either of us.

Caught! Damn it. Now he won't want me. "No." His normal cockiness was absent. Having relied on the heat of the moment to get him through last time, only to wind up bitterly disappointed when they were split up back at Agency HQ, Mac had wound up scaring himself half to death thinking about this all week.

But he still wasn't sure which he was more scared of: the act itself, or the fact that he actually wanted it to happen with Victor and would give almost anything the older man asked to make it so. Blushing, he hung his head.

"It's... You've done it before, Vic? You know what you're doing?" He hated the pleading note in his voice; it made him ashamed.

Vic smiled sunnily. "Yeah, I have, and I'm gonna love teaching you all about it, Grasshopper. I promise, you'll be fine," he gently stroked down the long spine and felt Mac arch like a cat as he reached the other man's tailbone over and over, "we'll take it as slow and easy as we need to, baby. We've got all the time in the world for this; and I'm gonna spoil you rotten. I'll take such good care of you if you only let me, Mac."

Those expressive eyes were begging for trust and acceptance; asking for something that the young thief had never thought he could give until this moment. "It's kinda scary." Mac's defenses were down now, and he was offering himself without any artifice.

Vic's velvety voice tickled his senses and sent a frisson of lust rocketing down his spine. "Shh....I know..."

Then Mac's hands were running over Vic, stroking him, feeling for his cock and trying to gauge by touch if he could take the thick, solid length. It was a cut, elegant piece of work, a proud dusty rose slightly thicker and shorter than his own.

Even as it excited him, it made his ass pucker tight in apprehension and he tensed up again.

Victor held Mac's face between his hands and kissed his eyelids in reassurance. "I know it's scary, love. But if you trust me enough, I'll take you all the way through, okay?" He moaned as he felt Mac's hand stroke him lightly, as if he were a fragile piece of china.

Mac's eyes shone. "I trust you," he whispered. "Better hurry though or I'm gonna cut and run," he laughed shakily.

"No, you won't," Vic promised, "you've waited too long for this." He slicked his fingers through the wasted butter sauce and held it up for Mac's inspection before pushing the rest of the plates off the table and laying his lover back across its surface. "Set your feet flat and relax, okay, baby?"

This was it. "Oh, god, Vic. Are you sure?" There was still time. Mac could still back out, and he knew Victor would understand and not blame him.

But before he could speak..."Aahh!" He tensed up hard and tight as the very tip of a slick digit gently probed and worked its way into his reluctant body. It burned. Oh fuck, it hurt and Vic wasn't even using his cock! He just knew wasn't going to be able to do it, and Vic would leave him for someone better, sexier, less fucked up and smart-mouthed.

"Never more sure of anything in my life," Victor soothed, holding very still as he waited for the younger man to relax. "I want your cherry, Mac," he breathed into the closest ear, hoping his bluntness wouldn't scare his partner too much. He just didn't know how else to put it. "Will you let me have it, baby?"

Mac was panting hard. This was unlike anything in his experience. "That hurts, Vic," his voice quavered, "I don't know about this." If it was this bad with a fingertip, he could just imagine the agony of Victor's dick invading and stretching that tight ring of muscle.

I can't go back. It'll kill me. "Relax...trust me...I won't hurt you, baby..." I'll push the hell out of you, but I'll die before I hurt you. In apology, he kissed Mac slowly and thoroughly, gently pumping his now only slightly hard cock.

Vic's hands were gentle and knowing. They were touching just the right places, and Mac closed his eyes. He was beginning to really get into it. He heard a voice moaning, and was startled when he realized that it was his own.

"Just my finger Mac, okay?" Vic breathed. "One finger, and I'll stop if you tell me to."

It took a minute for his words to filter through the haze of lust that shrouded Mac Ramsey at that moment. If he'd been asked to donate his kidneys he would have agreed. He smiled fuzzily.

"Okay."

Vic rubbed Mac's tight bud in slow, gentle circles with his butter slick forefinger, and kissed Mac thoroughly, lapping at the roof of his mouth as he stroked. Gradually, his lover started to relax under the caress. "Did you know there's about as many nerve endings here in your ass as there are on the head of your cock?" he asked between kisses, trying to explain to Mac why the sensations were so intense.

"Oh, Vic, that feels...strange." Mac's erection had subsided as the pressure of Victor's finger suggested the thought of what was about to happen. He frowned at Vic's words. "Really? Nathan tell you that?"

Vic nipped his ear sharply, and then said affectionately, "Brat! Nathan's not my type." Suddenly, he slid his finger inside Mac up to the first knuckle, hoping that the other man would be able to handle it. Praying that he would.

To his delight, Mac only twitched and then settled again, intent on his train of thought. "He likes you though. Think I didn't notice?" Mac's voice was a little strained and he panted just a bit, otherwise he seemed to be doing very well.

Baby, you're so pretty like this...I can't wait to be inside you for real. "Jealous?" Mmmm... so tight... so sweet... Mac wriggled a little and Victor froze instantly. "Am I hurting you, baby?" he stroked Mac's face in apology.

Mac smiled in lieu of a response. He was a little confused, unsure of just what he was supposed to be feeling. Aside from the initial burn, the unfamiliar sensation of being penetrated like this was actually kind of...hot. He was starting to wonder why he’d waited so long to try this, until he looked over at the man responsible for the strange new vibes coursing through him. Oh, yeah-he’d been waiting for Victor. He lifted a hand and gently caressed a barely stubbled cheek. He could almost imagine how it must have felt for the ex-cop his first time out and wriggled again experimentally.

"I hope that you like this. It's really..." Whatever he had been going to say was lost in the sudden flash of exquisite sensation that shot through from whatever Vic had just done to him. He gasped, and then arched back as his body responded.

"Jesus! What did you do just then?"

Victor laughed. His own cock was leaking moisture, and he really, really needed to get inside Mac as soon as he could. He knew that Mac needed patience and care, but it was almost too difficult when he wanted so badly to fuck him.

"That's your prostate, baby. Like it?"

"Oh, fuck!" Mac was whimpering. He was rapidly forgetting his nerves in his urgent desire to have more, much more of Vic. "Do that again."

Vic nuzzled the sensitive ear again. "Okay," he agreed, "but I have to add another finger. Is that okay, lover? It feels really good with two."

Mac was whimpering mindlessly now. The loss of that amazing touch was staggering. "Please, baby?" he begged shamelessly.

Smiling down at his gorgeous wanton, Vic obliged with a hot, languid glide of his crossed fingers into the loosening passage. It was almost as good as having his cock there. Almost.

The ex-thief panted heavily now--from desire, not pain--and his cock finally started to rise to the occasion once more.

"Oh, Mac," Vic blew cool air across the ripe plum head peeking out of the foreskin and watched it jump hard in response. Mac was almost ready for him. "For me? It's beautiful." Reverently, he lapped at the generous stream of precome. “I could live forever on the taste of you, baby.”

Even as gone as he was, Mac blushed at Vic's frank and open admiration of his dick. He'd never heard anything like that before. "What? Are you taking the piss?" he gasped.

Vic ran his tongue around the ridge that circled the cock in his hand, and savored the sounds that were emanating from his captive. Mac's cock was a masterpiece - long, slender, and uncut; he swirled his tongue around the head, playing a little with the foreskin, fascinated by its movement over the solid length of muscle.

"No. I'd never do that, but if I play my cards right, I might be taking it up the ass some day soon." Mac would never know just how badly he wanted to, either. Even now, he wanted to forego the teasing and just plunge himself down on his lover and fuck them both raw, blind and stupid; but he'd promised to give Mac his first and he refused to have all this hard work go to waste. That would all come later, and soon...very, very soon...

Once more, Mac took a second to process Vic's words, and realization of what he'd just said coincided with Victor finding and brushing inside him once again. He yelped, and bucked his hips. "Aahh! There's that thing again. Oh, please..."

Vic was still happily playing with Mac's foreskin. "I've never had an uncut lover," he mused, and then grinned as Mac thrashed under his busy fingers. "Please what, baby? Tell me what you need..."

Mac was dazed. He was also suffering from disbelief that Vic would make him work for this. "M-more, please...need you to touch..." He rolled his head from side to side as Vic did just that.

"What do you need, Mac? Where do you want me to touch you? Tell me... I'll do anything." Vic was persisting, his sultry voice weaving a counterpoint to those dangerous, questing fingers of his.

"Need to feel...pressure," the ability to articulate anything was fading rapidly. "More, please," he wriggled his ass in the hope that his body could convey what his voice could not.

And still Vic persisted. "Inside baby? Is that where you want to feel it?" His voice was soft, his touch maddening and Mac was starting to blaze out of control; groaning, straining, gasping as Vic gently shredded him to bits.

"Don't know," he wailed. "Touch me, please..." his cries had a fine raggedness to them that made Vic's blood sing. "Touch my dick," he demanded harshly.

One last time, Victor pushed. "Where do you need my touch, baby? How do you need it?" When Mac couldn't answer him, he whispered, "look at me, Malcolm. I want to drown in your eyes." Mac obeyed, lifting the hooded lids to reveal eyes that were totally black. It's time. With a kiss in apology, Victor stopped the fluttering of his fingers and pulled them out.

"Oh, Jesus," came the agonized whisper, "No, Vic! Please..."

"Shhh, listen...I need you to kneel." Vic got on the table with Mac and helped him to his knees.

"Are... Are you sure about this, Vic?" Mac felt very exposed, balanced on the table with his ass in the air.

"It's your first time." Vic said, soothing him as he stroked more of the spilled sauce onto himself. "You have control this way. I want you to love this, Mac...I want to keep you coming back again and again."

Mac sighed, and knelt, leaning back against Victor. He growled as he felt the other man nuzzling into the nape of his neck. "Can't kiss you this way."

At that, Vic turned Mac's face to his and kissed him deeply, probing with his tongue as he positioned himself to enter Mac. Mac felt the head of Vic's cock nudging at him, and all of a sudden he was shivering again. Hanging onto Vic as though he were a lifeline, he returned the kiss with desperation.

"Ready, baby?" Vic was tense and shaking himself now. He couldn't hold back. Please let him be okay. I can't stop now. I just can't. He nibbled Mac's ear, tweaked his nipples and began to press home.

Mac groaned. Here it came. Showtime! "As ready as I'm gonna get, I suppose," he panted in apprehension.

Vic grabbed Mac's hip with his free hand and urged him down, cock held steady as it came in contact with Mac's delicate, sensitive opening. "Ride me then, baby," he pleaded harshly, "take what's yours." Fighting the urge to rut and tear the other apart, he no longer cared if the words sounded harsh or blunt. All that mattered was getting into that searing hot space where he rightfully belonged.

Mac gasped at the burning pressure. It was so much more than he expected, and not nearly enough to satisfy the crazy itch inside him. "I don't...I can't...Oh, God," he moaned.

Desperate, Vic pulled the last of his self-control together and forced his hips to stay still.

"Shhh," he panted, hoping to be able to finish this soon. "Feel how slick I am...you did that to me...just stay still... feel the pulse?" The beating of our hearts, he thought muzzily. He was babbling, he knew, and he didn't care a rat's ass that he was.

All at once, Mac opened like a flower and starting pushing back onto the hard cock below him with a harsh growl. "Oh, Viiiiiiic..." You never told me it would be like this...so good... so much more. And then he was riding his lover hard, the fire overtaking him at last and leaving in its place an animal in heat claiming his rightful mate in a frenzy of grunts and snarls.

"Oh, Vic!" he cried again, wailing now as he felt it all build inside, a heated coil of something electric snaking along the inside of his thighs to lick at his balls. "Oh, Fuck!" He grabbed hold of his cock and began to pump it, uncaring if the Director or anyone else might be watching. He was burning up, and Victor was a magical presence, sliding silken in and out of him, holding him steady in the circle of his arms.

"So sweet, so fucking tight," Vic was talking to him, gentling him with that jaded, soulful voice of his. "My sweet virgin baby." Reaching down, he wrapped his hand over Mac's and helped him work his cock, the strokes flashing faster and faster. Mac was sweating now, a golden sheen that Vic just had to taste, running his tongue over the soft skin of Mac's spine just above his shoulder blades. Their joined hands were a blur over the cock that they held between them, and Mac was plunging wildly back and forth now as he speared himself onto Victor's dick over and over, faster and faster.

Without any kind of warning, Mac went rigid. His body stiffened and he howled as he came, the stream of viscous white joining the slippery mess on the table beneath him.

Vic let go of the ex-thief's hand and clutched Mac's shoulders for leverage, beginning at last to do what he'd been desperate for all night. Holding his lover with rough, bruising fingers, he pounded into Mac; no longer caring if this was soft and gentle, or right--only knowing that this was how things were meant to be and that Mac was his, now and always.

"Love you, love you so much. Oh Mac!" Vic cried out as he slammed into Mac, bit his shoulder and came hard. The two of them collapsed down onto the table and lay panting, neither able for a minute to do anything other than merely lie and try to find air to fill their lungs.

Vic lay draped over Mac, shaking like a leaf. He wrapped his arms around Mac and held him tight, still murmuring nonsensical things to the ex-thief. "Baby? Oh, Mac, you’re so good..." It wasn't the most intelligent thing he'd ever said in his life, but his brain had unaccountably turned to soup, and was even now (or so it seemed) running out of his ears to trickle down his body and evaporate. He pressed his lips against Mac, who lay panting beneath him.

Slowly, inevitably, the poor, abused table gave up the ghost, and collapsed beneath them with a grinding, splintering sound as it dumped them onto the floor. Mac moaned and started to shift, but Victor nuzzled his neck and hugged him gently to stop the movement.

"Shhh...stay still," he soothed and reluctantly pulled out of his slick, tight haven. Standing on shaky legs, he ran a hand through his hair; looking ruefully at the utter destruction of his dining room. "Fuck! I knew I should have gotten the butchers block table," he muttered.

Stroking Mac's soft dark hair, he whispered, "you okay, baby?" His beautiful lover was still on all fours in the middle of the tabletop, head hanging and breathing slowly and evenly. But he wouldn't look at Victor or answer him, something that was starting to worry the older man greatly. Oh, God; don't let me have fucked this up...I can't give him up now... pleasepleaseplease...

He knelt in front of Mac and tilted the other man's face up, but the dark chocolate eyes were closed. "Mac, look at me," he demanded worriedly, a sharp 'Malcolm!' ringing out when the younger man refused to comply.

Mac, eyes still closed, grinned at him perversely and said, "Just a minute, babe, I have to find my brain. I think I might have shot it all over the table."

Victor's breath left him in a rush. "Don't scare me like that!" he growled. And then he was grinning too. "Well, besides being missing your brain, how are you?" Still scared to death that he'd screwed everything up, he started running over Mac with gentle hands; checking to be sure that his lover was really okay.

The feel of those slender, clever fingers stroking his still-tingling flesh was an agonizing heaven. "Oh, god!" he moaned savagely, "Come here!" Lightening fast, he turned and grabbed Vic and kissed him hard.

Immersed in checking the state of his partner's well being, Vic didn't see Mac pounce until it was too late. "Are you tender? There's no blood...ummmmmph!" After a second or two, he started giving back kiss for kiss.

When they came up for air, Mac panted, "Vic...shut up. Just kiss me," and proceeded to try and shove his tongue down the ex-cop's throat once more.

Victor happily obliged, dueling with Mac's slick tongue and feeling his sweetly abused cock starting to stir again. With a muffled 'oh, shiiiiiiit', he vowed to up his vitamin intake and idly wondered if Viagra was everything it was cracked up to be.

When he heard Mac murmur, "I wonder how long it'll be," very quietly, he thought: I've created a fucking monster. He grinned happily at that idea and started to lay back on the tabletop. He was just rolling to ensure that every part of him was in contact with every part of Mac, when there was a knock at the door. Logically Vic knew exactly who it would be, but he was still astonished.

"Huh? Oh Jesus, that was fast!" he muttered as he began to drag himself up. Mac was still looking deliciously sated, and hadn't tried to move at all yet.

"Who the hell is that?" With dawning horror he looked up at the chandelier. "Good grief! You don't think...?" He paused, and then mused to himself, "Would she knock?" She certainly didn't make a habit of knocking when she visited him at home.

"I don't know." Vic was twitchy, looking around frantically for something to cover up with. The answer to the question suddenly became apparent as the door opened. Vic watched it widen in horrified fascination, and then exhaled noisily in resignation. "Oh fuck it! It's not like she hasn't seen it before."

Mac had been casting around for something that he could use to hide their blushes. Hastily he grabbed the tablecloth -complete with butter sauce, assorted remnants of their dinner, and newly spilled body fluids.

True to form, their boss strolled in and took in the state of the room and her agents with a wicked grin. "Well, well, well, what have we here, boys?" she drawled.

Mac shivered and whispered, "Vic?" as he moved closer to his lover and tried to wrap him up in the tablecloth.

Victor, however, had other ideas. Gently shrugging Mac off, he stood defiantly naked and faced his rival down. "What are you doing here?" he growled.

She smiled just a bit more and moved closer. "Oh, I thought a little...debriefing would be in order," she simpered and watched as Victor blushed again under the scrutiny.

A harsh breath, then, "This is breaking and entering..."

The Director continued to stalk him, moving in closer to run her finger down Victor's chest. Victor twitched under the unwanted contact, but otherwise refused to move.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Victor. It's my name on the deeds after all," she reminded him firmly.

"Yeah, whatever," Victor's eyes blazed with unholy green fire, "you still haven't answered my question." And then he noticed Jackie Janczyk standing off to one side with her mouth hanging open, eyes about to pop. "And what the hell is she doing here?" he snarled.

Mac noticed too--especially since the blonde looked like she was going to jump his lover any second.

"Oh, just great," he muttered angrily. "That's all we needed, to have her here," he glared at the ex-mob queen venomously.

Jackie seemed to be totally unfazed. Gaping and drooling slightly, she sighed, "Ohmigawd... Di, they are just so munchy," for all the world as if he and Vic were puppies on display in a store window.

The Director ignored Jackie's outburst, and strolled around the two men, taking in the view from every angle available, half-smile playing on her features. "Oh, I thought that Jackie might benefit from an object lesson," she drawled, running a red taloned finger down Mac's back and drawing a small gasp from him.

Vic spat a curse under his breath and started forward. "What object lesson?" he growled.

The Director's lip curled in derision. "Why teamwork, my dear Victor. You and Mac are such stunning examples."

Her hand traced its way from Victor's shoulder, across the broad chest and down towards his navel and he jerked a hand up to knock it away. "Huh?" He was snarling. "This has nothing to do with work."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Victor, I own you. I own both of you." The Director's smile had gone and her face was colder than anything one could possibly imagine - except for Victor, who matched her expression for expression. The temperature seemed to drop to below zero as their eyes met and held in a challenge.

"This is my..." Vic paused for a minute and looked at his lover before resuming, "our private life. You might own us, but you can't dictate everything we do." To stake his claim, he grabbed hold of Mac's hand.

Mac, who had been looking nervously between the two, moved a little closer to Victor and tried once again to cover his lover's nakedness with the tablecloth. "Vic. There's no arguing with her," he tried to soothe his angry lover by running his free hand down Vic's spine repeatedly with no success.

"Very wise, Mr. Ramsey." Mac didn't feel wise. His blurted utterance had drawn her attention, and he was sure as hell that he didn't want it. Pursing her lips, the woman - or was she a demon from the depths? - studied his half-naked body. "May I say how much your present - informal- attire suits you?"

Victor growled again, and pulled Mac slightly behind him. "Mine!" he snarled savagely. "All mine; and you'd better damn well keep your hands to yourself from now on! If you don't, you will find out just how far I can be pushed. This stops right now. Do we understand each other?"

The Director blinked once, but refused to back down. "That, my dear Mr. Mansfield, is where you are dead wrong. You are, both of you, mine." She paused theatrically. "Although I can be persuaded to loan you out from time to time." At Vic's feral snarl, she added, "however, I wouldn't dream of touching Mac now, Vic. You seem far too...assertive to argue with you," she smiled and stood on tiptoe to breathe into his ear, "and I like it. It's about time." She gave his bare ass the lightest of swats, to a similar glare from Mac.

Vic yelped, then stared at the woman as if she'd grown two heads. "Then what the hell have you been playing at all this time?" he asked wonderingly.

"I'm glad you're finally...shall we say... reconciling your differences?" she mused as Victor blushed bodily once more. "So entertaining. I may even keep the tape. Ta ta!"

The two of them watched her saunter out, Jackie in her wake, with their jaws dropped on their chests. There was a pause as they stood, frozen to the spot, and then Victor began to make a sound. At first it seemed as though he was growling again but it quickly welled up into a strangled scream.

"God, I hate that woman!"

"No kidding." Mac was watching his lover with a sort of horrified admiration. "She ought to be kept on a leash." He put his arms around Vic and started to soothe his furious lover, who stood rigid, his fists clenched as he panted in sheer rage. He turned in to hold Victor to him, and kissed him tenderly before pulling back with his familiar cocky grin. "It's okay, Vic. I shall protect you!" he said with a dramatic flourish in his voice.

Victor had begun to melt under the kiss, but he pulled back at that, and gave a shout of unwilling laughter. "Really? You'll keep my virtue intact? How brave of you."

Mac snorted with laughter. "I don't know about your virtue, but I'll be watching out for that cock of yours," he favored the older man with a lascivious smile that was truly evil and got one in return.

"This old thing?" Vic drawled in mock amazement. "Can't imagine what you'd want it for," he knew he was fishing, but after what he'd just gone through he felt he deserved the praise.

Mac reached down to take hold of it firmly, and waggled his eyebrows again. "Want me to find you a book?" he whispered hotly into Vic's ear.

Vic's evil smile grew wider. "I got one of my own, babe; a copy of the Karma Sutra on the nightstand," and felt Mac quiver against him. "How's about you and me take a shower, then I read you a bedtime story?"

"Well what are we waiting for?" Mac breathed, and led his lover off toward the bathroom....

3: Never Let Me Down Again

I'm taking a ride
With my best friend
I hope he never lets me down again
He knows where he's taking me
Taking me where I want to be
I'm taking a ride
with my best friend

We're flying high
We're watching the world pass us by
Never want to come down
Never want to put my feet back down
On the ground

Victor:

My heart is thumping wildly in my chest, keeping time with the driving bassline of the music. I haven’t gone clubbing like this since my time in Vice, when I was a baby-faced undercover detective trying to prove myself to my squad. I grin at the memory of those long-ago days and the wild child I used to be, pulling all kinds of crazy stunts to make a collar and getting myself chewed out by my captain on a regular basis.

“Mansfield, you’re a good cop,” Dave Parker would say with a huge sigh after I would tell him just exactly why I'd had to kill yet another expensive unmarked unit, “but you take too many fucking risks. How am I supposed to keep you alive if you insist on throwing yourself into the thick of it every goddamn time? You don’t even look, for Chrissakes. You just go with it, tripping blithely along, and expect us to pull you out no matter what. It’s gonna get you killed one of these days, Victor; and if that happens, I swear I’m gonna kick your ass. I don’t want to have to be giving your family a flag. You got me?”

And then the big man would sigh some more, pinch the bridge of his nose and wave me out of his office, with an ‘I’m getting way too old for this shit,’ and the popping of huge quantities of antacid tablets. Until the next time I pulled some bone-headed trick. Looking back, I'm amazed I managed to make it in Vice as long as I did. I definitely had some kind of unconscious death wish back then.

Of course, Narc hadn’t been too much better; taking full advantage of my blue-flame eagerness by burning me up and stringing me out, then throwing me to the wolves to save their own asses instead of taking what they’d had coming. The worst part about it was that I'd been arrested by a guy that was as dirty as they came, and it had chafed badly to see the smug superiority on the faces of my fellow squad members as I was being hauled away.

But Stan’s betrayal hurt the worst. Stan had been my partner, my friend; hell, he’d practically been an older brother to me as I struggled to find my own place in the squad, and I practically worshipped him. Stan was the reason, the only reason, I didn’t go to IA with what I knew when I found out that the rest of the squad was on the take.

And when Dave Parker-- the only one who’d believed my protestations of innocence, the only one who’d stood up for me at my trial-- had come to see me and said, “Damn, kid; you really got yourself into some shit this time. Didn’t I always tell you to watch out for yourself first and foremost?” I’d known it was over. Known that even if a miracle had made Stan and the others come clean, I could never go back to being a cop. My faith had been shattered beyond repair.

The man the Director had recruited out of prison had been hard, angry, and bitter. Cautious and aloof, I’d done what had been expected of me; nothing more, nothing less, until a beautiful thief came into my life and gave me something to care about again- namely her ex-lover. Now my lover; and I thank God every day for him. I was resigned to never finding the soulmate my heart’s been searching for all these years.

LiAnn is still my friend and still my partner, but I understand now more than ever that we never would have been able to make it work together and for her strength, I am grateful. Whatever her reasons, she freed me to find what I really wanted out of my life; although at the time I hadn’t seen it that way. But now--now I can truly see what a blessing her letting go was, because it's brought me full circle to Malcolm Ramsey, and for the first time in a very long time I can say I'm truly happy.

I can't help but wonder what our ex-lover thinks of the situation between me and Mac. She busted in on us at Mac's two days ago, while my partner had been finding out just how good it could be to have his dick trapped against me as he ecstatically writhed on my blood-heavy shaft embedded deep in his luscious ass. The little perverted monster that ruled me during my Vice days had risen up at the sight of her and I shot hard into that beautiful body, in turn setting my baby off and causing him to spurt thick liquid heat all over my chest and stomach and howl loud enough to wake the neighbors for a block and a half.

Then I couldn't help it, I just had to kiss him. He was absolutely gorgeous in his shock; and if anything, he'd fucked me harder and faster as she stood over us with her mouth hanging open. When we finally came up for air, she was gone.

Still, the look on her face had been unmistakable--shock, along with a healthy dose of fascinated horror. But whether it was because she'd walked in on us unannounced, was surprised at just how well we were getting along, or was disgusted and repulsed by what she'd discovered about both her ex's is hard to say. We haven't tried talking about it with her, and she hasn't yet brought the subject up herself. On Mac's advisement, we've resolved to let it lie until after this particular assignment.

This assignment being to find a vicious sexual predator running the club circuit who likes to mutilate and torture his victims before leaving their broken bodies where they were originally picked up. The victims are mostly prostitutes--young, desperate, drug-addicted men and women who can find no other way to obtain the ever-increasing amount of cash required to satisfy their needs-and their tricks.

It was the kind of case I would have worked in Vice, and that - along with the fact that one of the latest victims had been the son of a Council member - had insured the Agency's involvement. After all, how can the Director let all this talent go to waste in the midst of an international crisis?

So tonight, just call me Victim Mansfield, served up on a platter in tight, gleaming black leather and looking a lot like I used to back in the heady days of my Vice career. Joy.

When I'd asked them to meet me at The Underground tonight because I needed to do some prep work beforehand, I'd gotten a quizzical pout from my lover, a nonchalant ''kay' from Jackie, and an enigmatic look from LiAnn. It became even more blank when Mac walked over, gave me a kiss hot enough to blister paint before murmuring 'love you, baby', and sending me on my way. I had grown to know that look well in the beginning of our partnership, as it was usually the face she wore when she was hurting but trying to put on a brave front; the look she'd worn when she was missing Mac--whom we'd both assumed was long dead--and didn't want me to know about it.

The last thing I want is to hurt the woman I once loved enough to marry, but it seems inevitable at this point. Everything Mac and I say and do is another slap in the face for her, and we've agreed there's no way in hell that either of us is going to spend all our time around her walking on eggshells, pretending that what is isn't. LiAnn made her choice long ago, and if she doesn't like the consequences, that's something she's just going to have to deal with.

I suspect a huge part of her problem is that neither of us had acted with her the way we do with each other. I know that Mac had never been as open with his emotions with LiAnn-- the same is true of me. It wasn't deliberate; she's just so cool and self-contained that it seems a natural response when dealing with her. Even her passions seem to be orderly, as if she's afraid to let them truly run wild for fear of losing complete control.

Control is, has always been, a serious issue for LiAnn.

Whatever's bothering her, a great deal of it probably revolves around the fact that she's no longer the sole center of our focus. In that, I can't bring myself to feel especially sorry for her. What the hell did she expect-for us to wait on her whim forever? Probably - she always was rather self-centered that way.

Even so, she had to know it was an unrealistic idea. I tried talking to her a little bit ago, when Mac was in the john. She's not talking to either one of us right now; and while it hurts me that she'd be so petty, it's killing Mac. Jesus, she's gonna have to realize sooner or later that this isn't about her; we didn't do this to spite her. It just happened, and I can't bring myself to regret a single second.

As my Nona once told me, God made it so that you love who you love; regardless of what anybody else wants-if they don't like it, it's their problem to deal with--and I do love Malcolm Ramsey, with everything I have, everything I am, and everything I will ever be. It's scary just how much he's come to mean to me. I mean, in the span of a few short weeks, he's become my whole life-and that is just not like good old solid, straight arrow Vic Mansfield. Not that I'm complaining the slightest bit, you understand. As a matter of fact, I'm dancing on the old Vic's grave right now.

Sometimes I wonder if my old-fashioned Nona would have approved of my sweet, sexy, felonious baby. I like to think so. After all, when she sat me down and explained the nature of love to me, it was because she'd caught Corey Nielson and me kissing out back one balmy summer evening-two weeks before I was due to start a college term studying criminal justice. When I told her about the mixed-up feelings I had, wanting to be with both boys and girls and not knowing why--why I was so, as my father always put it, 'screwed up'--she'd hugged me, told me that was the way God made me and that I was just fine the way I was.

Then she'd kissed me on the forehead, sent me off to find my best friend and reminded me not to stay out too late; never breathing a word of what she'd discovered to my uptight, need-to-keep-up-appearances parents. She was a very cool old lady; and if it hadn't been for her, Alice and I would have turned out just like our parents. Hell, I know I almost did in spite of her love.

I'm watching Mac watch me as I dance with Jackie right now, and I feel my semi-hard cock stir even more within the confines of the leather that clings to me like a second skin. I'm reveling in the heat of those dark chocolate eyes, almost as black as my outfit with jealous lust at the moment. Damn, he's gorgeous. I thought he was going to jump me when he walked in and saw me sitting at the bar; and I was greatly disappointed when he didn't try, because I know I look hot tonight--if I do say so myself.

But he did something even better; walking over to insinuate himself between me and the hands of the people on either side of me by the simple expedience of planting himself firmly between my casually outstretched legs and then kissing me until I saw stars. When one of the interlopers would have dared to touch us, he turned to her, snarled 'Mine!!', and glared at the poor thing until she hastily snatched her hand back and hightailed it to parts unknown.

It was exactly what I'd wanted. I love it when Mac goes butch on me; and as much as I love seeing him bend to my will, he's been bending far too much of late. But when tonight's work is done, I plan on that changing very dramatically. I want Mac to understand that this isn't your 'typical' male/male relationship (if there is such a thing); we're equals and he has as much right to dominate me if it pleases him as I have him these past few weeks.

Despite all that Mac's seen and done in his short life, he's incredibly naïve about the way a guy-on-guy is supposed to work. Wait...scratch that. He thinks he knows how it's supposed to work, but the info is all wrong. Same-sex relationships work pretty much like het ones: one person steers, one navigates, and who does what at what time depends mostly on the situation at hand. At least that's the way I think it should be.

I guess it's my own fault; I pushed him when he probably wasn't ready to be taken and now he thinks this is the way it's supposed to be. LiAnn used to accuse me of being too stubborn and strong-willed sometimes for my own good and, much as I hate to admit it, I know she's right. Truth be told, I can see now how much I pushed her toward marriage...tripping blithely along, as Dave used to say, and not noticing how ambivalent she was about the concept until she'd walked away from me. It's a mistake I don't want to make with Mac.

The song's ended and I practically run Jackie over in my haste to return to the bar and my lover. I'm sure she's glaring holes in my back, but I don't really care. I'm not the slightest bit interested in her, even though she's pretty enough and has the kind of body that would give God an instant hard-on if she flaunted it at him the way she has Mac and me tonight.

I'm not stupid; I know she'd like a run at both of us, separately or together--although I think she'd rather take us both on if she had her way-and there was a time when I might have entertained the notion if I'd thought it was the only way I could have Mac. But now I do have Mac; and I got him all by myself, thank you very much--or he got me is the more accurate assessment-so I guess the little princess is just SOL. Better luck next time, baby girl.

Mac kisses me soundly when I reach him, much to the chagrin of our partners sitting across the dancefloor, and gives me a fresh drink. He's looking at me in that way he has, when he wants to talk about something very important to him but isn't sure he'll be taken seriously. I watch him struggle with it for a bit and try to radiate love and acceptance in his direction. It's important to me that he knows I respect his opinions. Finally, he decides to just spit it...

"Vic..."

He's nervous, I can tell. I keep sending him positive vibes. "Yeah, baby?"

Hesitant..."I wish you'd do something about LiAnn. She's so... closed off."

Hmm. This wasn't what I expected him to say. "What can I do? You're the one that said to let it go until later," and I did, too-with a slight exception. For all the good it did either of us.

He's getting frustrated. "I don't know. Did you talk to her?" He catches my guilty look. "You did, didn't you?" he accuses.

"A little, maybe," I admit sheepishly. I hate when he's mad at me.

He blows a harsh breath..."*What* did you say to her? She won't even look at me."

Her coldness is really starting to get to Mac, to both of us. "Not much," which is the truth. There's only so much a guy can say when the conversation is one-sided, "I did ask her how she felt about us."

He looks stricken. "Jesus, baby! Whaddya mean, not much? What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything," also the truth, but it's amazing how much nothing can mean in certain situations, "just said that we were entitled to live our own lives...and went blank again."

"So why the hell won't she look at me?"

He sounds so lost, and I know exactly how he feels. "I don't know, baby," I sigh in defeat, "she won't look at me either. I think she thought we were supposed to wait forever for her or something." That observation earns me a hard look. "She was a lot like this when we were first partnered, before you came into the picture."

His eyes glint in the low lighting, and it makes me want to sink to my knees in front of him. "Well, we have to do something," he says with conviction, "we can't let this go on."

I hate to be the one to burst his bubble. "Tell me what and I'll do it; but, baby, I don't think it's anything we can fix."

He looks at me like I just kicked his brand new kitten. "Jesus, Vic; don't you care? It's not just your life that's going out the window here. How can we trust her, depend on her in a tight corner, if she hates us?"

Now that isn't fair. "Of course I care, Mac; she's my partner too! But how can I do anything if she won't talk to either of us?" It's about time he remembers we're both in the same boat here!

"We have to do something. We can't just leave it," he's pleading now, even though we both know it's useless. "Make her see...," he trails off when he sees I'm not willing to do a repeat performance. "I guess I'll talk to her," he sighs in resignation.

I feel compelled to point out just what he's up against, "Don't get your hopes up, baby. She was pretty abrupt with me earlier." That’s an understatement. She damn near froze my balls off with her attitude.

"You don't think that she'll listen to me?" The insinuation is pretty obvious: that because they grew up together, he stands a better chance of getting LiAnn to see reason.

I only wish it were that simple. "I think she's hurting and I can understand that; but it's keeping her closed off right now."

He looks over at their table and our partner as she stares off into space, deep in thought, and then he sags in defeat. "I guess so.” He doesn’t like it, doesn’t have to, but we both know how stubborn she can be like this.

He turns his full attention back to me and the temperature seems to jump about 150 degrees. “God, Vic, I wish we could dance together," he rumbles as his eyes narrow at me. "You look so... Hot."

Score one for Mansfield. "Yeah?" I can't help but preen a little bit for my baby; rubbing my hand up my leather-clad thigh suggestively as I decide that maybe one short dance can't hurt. "Well, it's not as if anybody's gonna care, Mac. Take a look around...it's a pretty open club."

But there's no need for either of us to do so...the Underground's well known as a safe haven for the sexually adventurous. The mass of humanity around us is writhing in about as many combinations as one could imagine; all secure in the knowledge that whatever fantasy they want, it can be found here in the form of another consenting adult, maybe even two or three-or more.

Mac moves in to press up against me and my cock is suddenly at painful attention. "Oh, baby," he murmurs as his hands stroke the leather possessively. A wicked, wanton vision, he's licking his lips as he slowly humps my leg and I know I need to get free of these tight, hot leather pants immediately, if not sooner. "Think that we could dance once?"

If he wasn't a man I'd swear he was cooing at me! Still, common sense tries to remind me of why we’re here. I suck in a sharp breath as his hard thigh rubs against me teasingly. "Baby..."

"What?" He sounds distracted as he speeds up just a fraction.

I know what he's doing; he'll either get me to do as he asks, or he'll make me come in front of God and everybody right here and now...and I'll still do what he wants after he licks me clean in front of the same. Might as well give in gracefully; we both know I wanted to anyway. I nibble those soft, full lips gently. "One dance, Mac...we're supposed to be working,"

I feel him smile against my mouth and knew that didn't come off as sternly as I'd intended. He leans in against me to nuzzle my neck; warm, slick mouth roaming up beneath my chin before he whispers hotly in my ear. "I need them to know that you're mine. They keep on touching you. I don't like it," the possession in his voice sends a thrill through me, making my nipples stand proud in arousal.

I'm still surprised by it though. "Baby, I'm going home with you, and they all know it," I grin at the memory of the stir Mac caused when he walked in tonight. "Did you see the looks you got when you walked in?"

"They may know it, but I want them to really feel it," he whispers again and then pulls back to look at me when he realizes what I said. "Me? No," he sounds incredulous, which is rather funny to me because I know how image-conscious he is and that he's very much aware of his effect on the fairer sex, not to mention me. "What looks would those be?"

He's milking it, but I have no problem with that. I'm happy to oblige. "All the women creamed their jeans when you came through that door, baby, and probably most of the men," I whisper depravedly, knowing it for fact. I smile wickedly and work my way up to his ear to nibble on it. "You look so damn fine tonight, lover." He does, too; a walking, talking wet dream is Mac, and all of it belongs to me. Freaking amazing.

He hisses as I stroke the bare patch of skin under my fingers, which just happens to be where the back of his thigh starts curving up into his ass, my favorite place on his whole body. He's wearing these worn, snug jeans full of rips, shreds and holes; and they leave nothing to the imagination. I can almost smell his arousal, and it's making me so wild. My mind runs rampant as different scenarios flit through it, and I'd love to try them all. Later.

"Except for LiAnn and Jackie, huh?" He sounds a bit winded. Good. "You've got me confused with you, Vic. You're the one who's turning heads."

"Maybe even them...Jackie's coveting your ass, you know," I watch our supposedly ditzy partner as she watches us and feel the monster rise up again. I start giving Mac little biting kisses, stringing the resulting red marks along the base of his throat. I know there's a name for this somewhere-- either in the Kama Sutra or Ananga Ranga, possibly even in the Perfumed Garden-but it escapes me at the moment, a very minor annoyance in the whole scheme of things.

He hisses again, grabs my biceps painfully tight. I know I’ll have marks. This is also good. “Victor, I...,” he’s floundering, once more trying to convey something important to him.

“What, baby?” Talk to me...

But he can’t seem to get the words out. The only thing I hear is a harsh moan before he kisses me hard enough to leave my mouth slightly sore and swollen; which is a very good thing. I bare my throat to him as he moves lower, feeling sharp teeth scrape my jugular. Normally I'm not this submissive, but tonight I have a need to be. Because Mac needs me to be. I can feel it in the way he's mouthing my Adam's apple, the way he's crushing me against his body-so hard that I can barely breathe. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but Mac is very strong and heavy. I look forward to feeling that strength and weight later tonight.

He's vibrating with the need to possess me. "I'm scared all the time. I don't know how to do this, baby," his voice is trembling in my ear.

Confused, I stroke his back. "Of what, baby? You don't know how to do what?"

His voice shakes even more. "How to keep you."

I pull back and look my sweet thief in the eyes. The pain I see there hurts me more than the bruising strength of his arms around me. "Baby, you've got me for the rest of my life. I told you there was no one else for me ever again. How can I make you believe? What can I do to show you what you mean to me?"

"I don't know. It's just how I feel," he looks ashamed, something I can't bear to see.

"Oh, baby..." I crush Mac against me, trying to hold him as tight and as safe as he is me, "I love you, Mac...you know that, right?"

"I want to lose myself in you. I don't want to feel afraid all the time."

Ah. This I understand. He wants to take me, but he doesn't know how. That's okay; I can teach him that too, and I will as soon as we can get the hell out of this place. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm not good with words--all I know how to do is love you," and I do love you, Mac. You have to know that I do...you have to feel how much I love you. Please feel it.

He nuzzles up to my ear again. "Just dance with me, Vic. I need to feel you close to me."

How can I deny my baby what he needs? It's like denying myself. "Okay...anything you want, Mac," and I immediately feel better when he flashes a bright smile at me.

"Just so you know...it wasn't MY ass that Jackie was cootching up to a few minutes ago."

He's teasing, but I hear the jealous notes in his voice anyway and can't help laughing as I lead him to the dancefloor. "Yeah, well...I'd rather it had been you. She's...nice, but not exactly what I'm looking for, you know?"

He looks over at the table and our brooding partner. "What about LiAnn? She was, wasn't she? She was exactly what you were looking for."

Ouch. My Mac certainly doesn't pull any punches and I know I have to be honest. "At the time...and then the times changed." Not necessarily how I wanted to put it, but it's the truth.

Mac watches me steadily. "Are you sure?" Then his face takes on that haunted look that I hate; the one where he's questioning himself and his choices and I want to shake him until his teeth rattle. "Jeez. I just don't know. I feel so fucking out of control all the time."

He's being honest, and I can give him no less. "Mac, you know I'm bi, I've never made a secret of that. I like women alright...but I *love* you. I've spent my whole life waiting for you. That's why it never worked before."

Apparently, it was the right thing to say, because Mac's closed his eyes and melted against me. The music is fast right now, but we're moving to a beat that's only in our minds; a slow, sensuous beat that throbs in sync with our hearts. "Is it working now?" my lover whispers in my ear, sending a thrill of lust rocketing down my spine to settle in my groin.

"Oh, hell yeah. It's working just fine."

He smiles as I stutter a bit, then turns serious again. I swear, one of these days I'm gonna wipe that look off his face permanently. I never knew how much I missed his trademark smirk until I stopped seeing it on a regular basis. "Look at us. I'm a wreck, and everyone laughs at us. Our partner doesn't even want to look at us, and I don't know what to do."

Well, this is interesting. "Who's laughing at us?" Not that I care if they do, but they're making my baby uncomfortable and that I won't tolerate.

He's pouting just a bit, and it makes me lightheaded. "Jackie and the Director... Fucking Dobrinsky. I'd like to rip his head off and feed it to him," Mac's a man after my own heart, especially after that stunt with Dobie's sewer pipe; but I don't give a rat's ass about any of them, with the exception of LiAnn, and neither should Mac.

I look over at one of the parties in question. "In case you haven't noticed, that's not laughter, that's lust. I've wanted to kill her for the way she's been eyeing you tonight, but I really can't fault her taste..."

Mac rolls his eyes at me. "Oh, come on. Even I know that it was you she was wriggling her assets at," he quips disgustedly.

"Yeah, but she likes to see you get mad," I shoot back placidly. Again, I can't blame her; Mac's fucking gorgeous when he's steamed. "As for the Dragon," he shakes with suppressed laughter, "I have it on very good authority that she *did* keep that tape."

His eyebrows go up questioningly at that, but I'm not ready to tell him about it yet. Let it suffice to say that it's amazing just how far out on a limb Nathan Muckle will go to please a Prince of the Illuminati. All I had to do was take him out to lunch and spin a little bullshit. And yes, I did feel bad about it afterwards. A little.

I get back on the topic at hand. "And Dobie? Fuck him if he can't take a joke. He *wishes* he could have someone as hot as you," he does too. I've caught him staring more than once. Tough shit, bulldog, you had your chance. My turn now, and I'm not giving it up ever. You're lucky you get to look.

Mac stands stock still in the middle of the dance floor. "Fuck him? Oh, Vic, baby, I'd so much rather fuck you." He grabs hold of me and kisses me again and I'm not about to complain now. He moans against my mouth and the sound goes straight to my cock. "God, I need you. How come I need you so much?" his voice is strained and wondering.

"I don't know, but it's probably the same reason I need you," I feel a shudder run the length of me. "God, baby...," I don't know how to say what's in my heart, to tell this amazing man how he makes me feel. The words to describe it don't exist.

"I want you," he growls. "I really, really want you," and in the middle of the dancefloor, he slides down my body to his knees to lay his cheek against my leather-clad groin.

I can't help it, my head goes back and I moan loud enough to be heard over the music. The dancers in our immediate vicinity spread out to give us room in anticipation of a show, but I don't think either of us cares.

Mac turns huge, pleading eyes to me. "Please, Vic. Give it to me."

His insistence is the beginning of my undoing. Still, I know this is a very, very bad idea. "Baby, we gotta *work*...we *can't*....Oh, baby..."

I'm whimpering with hunger as Mac's arms circle my hips to hold me still, while he buries his face in my crotch and inhales deeply. I know he can feel the swell under the leather, and he knows exactly where to press to drive me insane. He grins up at me maniacally. "I want you. I really, really need you, baby," he pouts sexily before gently rubbing his face against the rock-hard bulge in front of him like a cat and purring.

Jesus Christ, I'm gonna shoot my wad right fucking here all over him...how can he know about this little kink in my psyche!? "...baby, please...gotta behave...gotta stop...gonna make me come...make me come...can't...please...," I know I'm begging and I know I'm babbling; and I can't do a thing about either one. I've got no shame left to spare for pride. You're so good, little Grasshopper...

The music is a little harder, the beat more driving, and Mac is caught in it as he stands up; moving back just enough to take my hand and press it up against his own hard on. "Feel that?" he asks as hips gyrate to the rhythm and bring to mind a fantasy of feeling him buried deep in my ass, driving to the same cadence.

"Yes," I moan wantonly as my body starts to over-ride my brain. Looks like later has just become now. "Oh, shit," I rub it lovingly, trying to imagine the feel of it in my ass...plundering, taking... "I want it, Mac... want it now," I feel like such a slut at the moment, and that can only be a good thing. At this moment, I think I'd do almost anything Mac asks of me-and he knows it. He knows he owns me. That's probably the best thing of all.

Mac pulls in close again and lays his forehead against mine to look directly into my eyes. "I need you now. Not later. Not tomorrow. I need you, Vic."

His intensity is eating me alive. His eyes are electric, hypnotic...and we fucking can*not* do this right now. I groan harshly. "Jesus, baby...how can you do this to me? I can't think, I can't see... It's so hot in here, and you smell so fucking good..."

"Where can we go, Vic. There must be somewhere?" His voice is soft and cajoling, gently leading me down the path he wants me to go.

But I can't completely forget duty. "I want you inside me and we *can't*...we just *can’t...*" I'm desperate. Either he takes me now or he doesn't-his choice-but if he truly means to do this here, it's the only thing I'll accept. I want to die knowing how it feels to be possessed by Mac Ramsey.

And he starts to back away again. "Me? You mean...? Oh, boy..." I watch the bob of his Adam's apple as he gulps in apprehension.

Oh, no, lover; you did this to me. You don't get to back out so easily. "There's rooms upstairs," I whisper evilly, "party rooms...if you promise you'll take me tonight, right now..." I leave the rest hanging and wait for him to catch on.

Less than half a second. I knew my baby was sharp. "Oh..." the pitiful whimper almost makes me feel sorry for him. Almost. "You want me to fuck you?" he sounds scared. I don't blame him. It's always easier to be taken than to take someone, especially if you're a novice.

I won't let that stop either of us. "Oh, yeah, baby...I want to feel you inside me. I want to know what it's like to be totally yours."

I nuzzle up to his neck and lick it slowly from the base to just behind his ear. This gains me another pained-sounding whimper. "How long? I mean...How can we? Can you set it up?"

He sounds much like I did a few short eons ago and I can't help being a bit smug. I tamp it down quickly. "Yeah, Jason will do it for me if I ask; all you have to do is say the word."

Luckily, he doesn't ask how I know the bartender's name or why he'd be so magnanimous, not that it's a big secret or anything. Jase Biondy was one of only two male lovers I had before Mac; the other being Corey Nielson, and someday Mac will thank him from the bottom of his heart. It was Jase who taught me everything I know about making love to another man, and Mac has been the grateful beneficiary of all that tutelage. Small, sweet and blond, Jase reminds me of a kewpie doll with his big blue eyes, heart-shaped face, luscious lips and compact 5'9" frame.

The relationship was doomed from the start, because Jase also liked to share the wealth--whereas I, being the twisted, selfish bastard I am, prefer total monogamy. Now, he's a good friend and nothing more. And he's hot for Mac; he practically fell over dead in disbelief when I pointed my baby out earlier. "Sweet Jesus in heaven; you do not deserve that," he gushed, and I agreed whole-heartedly. "You are one damn lucky sonofabitch, Victor," an observation I also agreed with as he offered to reserve use of his best party room for me tonight and wouldn't take no for an answer. I never expected to be taking him up on it.

Mac is trembling violently now, and he breathes harshly into my ear. "Oh, fuck, yeah. Just...hurry."

I signal Jase and get a nod in return. "Done and done. Let's go baby."

Perversely, Mac hangs back for a moment. "Do we...do we need to tell them that we'll be coming back?" He gestures over at Jackie and LiAnn.

I'm hesitant. Jackie could definitely use this against us; of that I have no doubt. "I don't know...do you think we should?"

"They might get mad."

True, but it's their word against ours. We could always say we were trying to draw the perp out. "Hmm." I decide to err on the side of caution. "Make it quick, and make the story good, Mac. I don't want the Director on our asses any more than necessary."

Mac shudders. "God, No..." He goes over to the table and tells them...whatever, then comes back to me. "Quick enough?" At my nod, he grabs my hand and makes for the back. "Where do we go, babe?"

"There's a set of stairs on the left," which he immediately heads for; but once there, I make sure and go up first to give my lover a good view of my ass. Mac is right behind me, and I hear him groan loudly before he gently cups my swaying backside in his palms.

At the top, we head straight for the room at the end of the hallway. It's the deluxe, with all kinds of accoutrements for people who are into that sort of thing; but all I need right now is Mac.

Once over the threshold, Mac kisses me gently; then whispers, "Nobody else has ever done this to me, Vic. I can take them or leave them. But you...Oh, God."

The declaration makes me tremble. I want to hear more. My voice is only a whisper as I ask over the muted beat of the music, "What, baby? What do I do to you??"

He steps over to the bed, then turns to look at me. "God...Come here, and I'll show you." His voice is husky and velvet; and it rubs against me, setting my blood on fire.

I can do nothing else but obey, and step over to him, arms spread crucifixion style as I await his pleasure. "All yours." He drags down on the zipper of my jacket and a shudder wracks me as cool air hits my skin. My nipples are painfully tight now; as Mac keeps on going, unzips the jacket and then kneels again, to unzip my pants. He's fumbling to push them down enough and his mouth is searching; I can feel the moisture of his tongue seeping through the front my boxer briefs. I whimper helplessly. "Baby?"

Mac continues to torture me mercilessly, licking and sucking at me through the cotton. "Mmmm?" he sounds distracted right now.

"I want your mouth...you're so good...need to feel your mouth on me," I'm way past the point where I give a shit whether or not I'm begging. I'm just giving it all up to Mac and just coming along for the ride, because I know he's gonna take me exactly where I want to go tonight.

Mac finds my pleas funny for some reason, and gives a gentle snort of laughter. "Like you could escape it." He pulls the front of my skivs down and allows my seriously aching cock to spring free.

As I watch, he captures it with one hand and looks up at me for just a second, making a great show out of licking his lips before he sucks me right in. Hard. I practically scream. "Ahhh!! Like I really want to! Jesus, baby...oh, yeah...suck me...."

I dissolve into inarticulate groaning as my baby goes to work, sucking as though it's nourishment to him; and I have to fight to keep my hands from fisting in his hair and brutally fucking his mouth. I remind myself that he's in control tonight, and we will get to where we're going when Mac is damn good and ready to take us there. But I'm praying with every ounce of my lost faith that we get there soon, or I'm going to be a babbling lunatic for the rest of my life.

Mac's hands are scrabbling to push the leather pants down to my knees, and once that is accomplished, I feel his finger gently rubbing the pucker of my ass as he sucks. The thought of it brings me so close to the edge...I cry out sharply; unable to keep the sound in.

Suddenly, that warm, wonderful mouth and gently questing finger are gone and I desperately want them back. "Oh, God, Vic, did I hurt you?"

I'm panting, and my vision is hazy around the edges. It's so hard to form a coherent thought. "What? Oh, Jesus, no baby... I'm on fire," light me up, baby; make me burn.

“I want you to see only me,” his voice is harsh and commanding, “can't stand it when you see those other women.”

“What other women?” my throat is dry from panting and it makes my voice rusty. “You're all I've been able to see since the night you first kissed me.”

“Jackie,” he accuses, before sucking on the head of my cock like a popsicle. “She doesn't get you. You're mine. Only mine,” his tone is warning me to take him very seriously at this moment.

As if can do anything but. “Yes,” I wail loudly, “only yours--and you are only mine. Touch me again, baby; light me up,” I need to feel that electricity again, and he’s the only one who can give it to me.

Mac looks up at me for a long moment before coming to some kind of decision. “Turn around, Vic,” his voice is gentle, but it’s a command all the same and I feel it race like a drug through my veins.

He is still kneeling, and I can’t help but think of what I’d like for him to do to me while he’s down there. “Okay....”

His teeth sink gently into the padded muscle of my left glute, making me jump and whine in frustration. He’s never gone farther than this yet and I don’t expect him to this time, either; but then he shocks me when he spreads my cheeks wide, exposing the tight, sensitive ring of muscle between them to the unmistakable heat and moisture of his breath.

“Mac, what are you...?” I don’t get to finish the question, because he leans in and starts to lick me. Little delicate lashes of his tongue as he steals small tastes of this formerly forbidden area of my flesh. I thank God profusely for my unwavering attention to detail during my prep time earlier. Still, knowing of his ambivalence, I have to give him an out. "Oh, baby," the words come out on a shuddering groan, a testament to the power he has over me at this moment, "...you don't...you don't have to... Oh, Fuck...you don't have to do this..."

I feel my beloved shiver, hear a sweet moan of lust before he forces his slick, searing tongue to breach me and stroke into my body over and over again. Overwhelmed by his loving, I cry out and practically fall into the wall in my haste to bend over and expose myself more fully to his pleasure.

My legs are trembling now, and I am whining with need. "Oh my God...Jesus, Mac...so fucking good...you're so hot...so amazing."

Mac is making all these helpless little noises, the kind he makes when he's really into what I'm doing to him. Unable to stand it, I reach down to fist my own cock before I go insane, only to have my hand brutally slapped away and replaced with his. He strokes me gently, when I want it rough and hard and I can't do anything about it. I'm trapped between his hand and his mouth and all I can do is hold on for the ride and try to keep breathing.

Mac finally leans back to draw a breath. I feel him pant into my ear. "I need... I really need you," he whispers shakily.

"Yeah..." Again, how can I deny him-and why would I want to? I quickly strip the rest of my clothing off, then turn and start doing the same to him. Mac is wild eyed and panting, hanging by a thread as I start to touch him.

I lean in to taste him gently, not sure if he'll be disgusted by my actions; but I did do a very thorough prep, and one of my kinks is an admittedly rather perverse tendency to taste and smell my sexual partner's skin during and after lovemaking-which usually includes the sweat and semen I happen to put there myself.

I can't explain it; but there is something very erotic about kissing Mac after he goes down on me and knowing that the bitter essence I taste on his lips is a part of me that he willingly chooses to carry inside himself. My criminal psych professor called it territorial marking behavior and it was something that LiAnn wouldn't tolerate and never indulged me in when we were together.

Mac, however, is a different story. He pulls me closer and crushes my tender mouth under his own and I'm with him all the way, hungry for the rough contact. "Need you, Vic; need you now," he pants afterward, all intense and electric again as he stares deep into my eyes and down into my soul.

I love him. I'd willingly give up my life for him if he needed me to. "What do I always tell you, baby?" My fingers play with his rock-hard nipples as I gently worry his lush lower lip with my teeth.

"I don't...," he's panting again, "dunno...," he's returning my attentions; and his denim-encased cock bucks against mine, sending sparks racing through me.

I grab him by the head and stare back into his gaze just as deeply. I don't want him to misunderstand my meaning this time. "Take what's yours...take me."

He looks a bit worried now. "You mean...? You want me to...?" I can't help thinking how hot he looks at this moment. It's okay, baby. I know you can do this; and once you get the taste, it's gonna change your life forever.

I hit my knees, determined to submit to my lover tonight. After carefully stripping the worn, threadbare jeans and the rest of his clothing; I play with Mac's cock, keeping the tension between us high and hoping the tide will carry him along. "Yeah. I want this, Mac. I want you so deep inside me it's gonna take a fucking crowbar to get us apart again. I want to limp and eat standing up for a week because of you; but most of all, I want you to know how it feels when you first realize that I'm carrying a piece of you around inside me. There's nothing else like it in the world, baby. Nothing."

"Oh, God, Vic," Mac is shaking his head, trying to clear it, get some sense back...but I won't let him. I keep teasing him, leaving him so on edge that he finally has to reach down and disengage my busy hands from his body.

"Please, Mac? Please? I need you so bad." I'm pulling out all the stops for this. He absolutely has to take me tonight. I'll die if he doesn't.

"I don't want to hurt you," but he's spitting on his hand as he speaks.

Yes, baby, that's it... "You can't." My ass is in the air now, my cock dripping as I get ready to take the ride of my life. And Mac is gonna take me there, gonna take me all the way home; I can feel it.

"What if...what if I can't...?"

He's committed, but still insecure. My poor sweet sexy baby. "What, baby?"

He moves behind me and kneels and I feel myself opening for him. "What if I come? I'm gonna come, I know it."

I shudder as he feels for my sweet spot by stroking his fingers over me. "Even if you do it's okay, baby." And it really, truly is, because I know exactly how he feels. "But you won't." I hesitate a moment, considering. "But if you'd rather have help..." I trail off, helplessly aware of just how much is going to be revealed about me after this moment, and praying that Mac can handle what he's going to learn.

I feel him shiver again as Mac lets his cock find the spot for him. Then he hesitates. "Help?"

I close my eyes, take a deep breath and spit it. "If you put on a cockring, you won't come until it you take it off," god, I hope you appreciate what it's costing me to admit this to you, Mac. "Then you don't have to worry," I hear the sure notes of personal experience in my voice and cringe inwardly.

Sure enough, Mac leaves his place behind me and I start to die inside. He lifts me up with two fingers under my chin and strokes my cheek. "You...you have one?" his voice is a bare whisper; and I nod miserably, cursing the wicked impulse that made me grab it as I was walking out the door. "Do it, baby. Please."

My eyes pop open in surprise. "Baby? Are you sure?" I have to know; I don't want him to do this just to please me.

His eyes are huge in the dim light. I know he's nervous, but his gaze is clear and steady. "Please...I want to make it good. Hurry," he whispers as I get up and go for my jacket.

"It will be good, no matter what," I pull it out and hold it up for him to look at. It's a simple leather strap studded with snap closures, real easy and non-threatening. I'm not into big, flashy stuff anyway; never have been. As a matter of fact, this is the first one I've owned since Vice and even that one was just for show most of the time.

Mac hisses apprehensively at the little bit of leather and chrome in my hand. "Shit! Will that thing make my balls drop off?"

I smile in spite of myself. "No, baby; it'll just keep you together for a while. Watch. It's a simple strap, you put it on like this...and when you're ready, all you have to do is unsnap it, like this," I demonstrate the mechanics of it on my own cock. "Okay?"

"Y-yeah. I got it."

He takes it from me as if it's going to bite him, and I can see how badly he's shaking. I step behind him and put my hands over his to steady them. "You want some help with this, Malcolm?" I whisper gently, kissing his shoulder reassuringly.

"Oh, love. Please... " He sags against me as I put the ring on, adjust it so that it's uncomfortable but not painful, and stroke on a little lube. I only need a scant amount; he's dripping precome as it is and I'm so ready for him I almost feel like a woman.

Mac kneels again and tilts his head back to look at me. "Come here, lover," he whispers hotly, "I need you bad."

In a haze, I come and kneel in front of Mac; head bowed, ass in the air in true sub fashion. I want and need to submit to Mac right now; but I'm also ready to lead if Mac needs me to, because in this, as in all things, we are partners and it is my job to back him up. He positions himself, trying to do this by instinct, without too much thinking. "That's good, baby," I whisper as he strokes my spine, giving him all the love and encouragement I know how to at this moment.

When I feel his cock hot against my body, I can't stand it anymore. I push back hard, feeling him slide into me as he cries out in amazement and then his hands are on my hips, pulling me back to meet him as he drives himself into my body as hard and deep as he can get, then holding very still.

It's glorious. I'd forgotten how good this actually was, being stretched and filled like this. My ass is on fire as it tries to decide whether or not to split in two and I'm panting hard through my mouth. I sound like I'm dying, but I've never felt more alive. I love the feeling of Mac inside me, it's just as perfect as I had imagined it would be. It's where he belongs--whenever he's not underneath me, that is.

"My God, Vic, you're so hot." I could never get tired of that reverent, wondering note in his voice. He's as deep inside of me as he can get, and I feel him rigid against me as he strains to gain just a fraction more. "I want... I want to climb inside you for the rest of my life."

I know exactly how he feels. I feel the same way whenever we make love to each other; whether hard, fast and raunchy; or slow, tender and languid-or any combination in between. I whimper helplessly when I feel him lick the sweat from my skin. It seems we may have something in common in the kink department. "Yes, baby...so good...take me..." I moan loudly and push back hard, wanting to feel him move. "Mac...Mac...," I'm not even sure what I'm begging for now.

"Fuck, Victor... I love you so much. So goddam much."

His voice is harsh and shaky and I feel him swell within me. "Love...love you...too...want to be yours...rest of my life... take me, baby...please...fuck me."

Mac suddenly starts to move; gasping, groaning and screwing me so hard I really might not be able to sit for a week. "Yes! Yes! Deeper, harder...I need it... need you...faster...don't stop!"

Mac slides an arm across my chest, grabs my opposite shoulder and starts plunging into me really hard. His free hand grabs my cock and strokes it savagely; so hard that I know I'll be tender for at least a day after this. "Come on, Vic, give it to me," he growls harshly, "I need it."

I cry out at that. Mac is well and truly possessing me, and I can feel my climax building inside me because of it. I can deny my baby nothing, and the truth of that is in the tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. I'm crying out with every stroke Mac lays inside me, and I can honestly say that I have never in my life been taken as thoroughly and lovingly as I am being taken by this man.

"Come for me, Vic. I love you."

Mac is licking at my face, tasting the salt tears I'm offering up to him and suddenly, I can feel it coming... "Mac, take it off...take it off now!" I cry, hoping he will understand what I'm trying to tell him. My climax slams into me like a freight train and I cry out one last time; a long keening wail from the bottom of my soul as I feel my man fall into the abyss with me with a gut-wrenching primal scream. I collapse to the floor, Mac still in and around me like a heavy, comforting blanket and I sob uncontrollably as he whispers my name over and over.

"Don't... Don't cry, lover. What? Did I hurt you?"

He sounds so worried and I try to dredge up a smile for him. "No, baby. I told you that you couldn't." And he didn't, not really. I know I'll wake in the morning feeling wonderfully achy and well and truly fucked. In other words, totally loved.

He traces the path of a tear down my face. "Please tell me what's wrong," he's pleading now, sure he did something wrong.

"It's never been like that...ever. I've never felt the way you make me feel," I'm shaking uncontrollably and this time, the wonder is mine. I could never have imagined it being like this.

Mac is licking my tears away, and he kisses me again. "Nobody else but you, Vic. Only you."

The emotion is going to tear me in two. "Hold me...hold me tight, Mac... I'm gonna fall apart if you don't," keep me together, baby. Please. "Love you, baby, so much. I knew that night in the truck. It scares me to want you this much...to *need* you this much," he crushes me in against his body, burying his face in my neck as I try to find the words to tell him how good he makes me feel and the depth of my love for him.

"I love you too, he whispers solemnly, "I know how you feel. It's like we were torn apart from the same person, and we'll never get back the way we were."

That's it exactly. I think back to that night in the back of the truck and how I'd told him that I was nobody's bitch-and then threw a challenge at him. Well, it didn’t happen in the time, place or way that I expected; but it happened, and I just learned something new about myself. Something very, very good. I chuckle quietly over my new-found discovery. "Guess what?"

Mac smiles against my shoulder as he feels my humor. "What? You laugh? But you, my fine sir will laugh no more. Not when I put you in my cage," he nips the skin under his mouth before giving an evil, over the top stage laugh. My baby is back.

I rub my cheek against his silken hair and chuckle again. "Maybe not; but you will when you hear this."

Mac turns me to look at him, interested now. "What?"

I look him straight in the eyes, grin and whisper, "I'm your bitch."

His eyes go huge for a moment, then his laughter shakes both of us uncontrollably. "Oh... fuck!"

He can't stop; and every time he looks at me, it sets both of us off again. "Bastard! Thirty-seven years and you come along and do this to me," I'm gasping again, trying to break free of his embrace so I can pin him underneath me and remind him of just who's boss in this relationship. Or not.

Mac holds me tighter, grinning against my cheek. "Oh, yeah, baby, but I'm your bastard; just try and get rid of me now!" He kisses me soundly before adding, "God, Vic, I thought that you were at least 65," with that smirk that I've come to know and love so very well.

I struggle half-heartedly against my imprisonment. "Fucking brat, you know it?" but I'm grinning as I say it, and I think my face is starting to hurt because of it.

Mac slips gently out and shifts us so that he leans back against the bed as I lean against him. "I know that I love you," he whispers against my skin.

I know you love me too. After this, I know it in my soul. But before I can say anything, he gently whaps me upside the head and starts in..."And that you are a sleazy pervert. What makes you carry this thing around with you just on spec?"

He doesn't sound upset, just curious; so I decide to roll with it. "Hey, I am *not* sleazy, thank you very much; and what have I been telling you all this time?"

"Uh... what?"

I roll my eyes. "That I have..."

He chimes in and we finish the sentence together. "...hidden depths. I think I just hit the bottom of them." It's not meant judgmentally, just a statement, and I will take it as such.

But I know I still need to explain. "And I don't usually carry one..."

Mac's response of 'Oh yeah?' is somewhat disbelieving. Can't blame him. After all, I've gone from being totally straight to not only being bi-sexual, but something of a perv as well in a few short weeks. I carry on as if he hasn't spoken. "But you... you do things to me," a statement woefully inadequate for just how completely he's changed my life in such a short time. "I don't even know what made me grab it. I haven't been like this since Vice."

He snorts derisively in my ear. "Oh yeah, right, blame me...blame poor innocent Mac." He thinks about it. "I do?" He sounds uncertain now and I try to reassure him.

"Don't be sorry, baby; it's a good thing. I didn't know how much I missed that person until you showed me he was gone," I stroke the back of his hand gently, lost in memory.

Mac's questions bring me back. "Vice? Is this what you used to get up to in Vice?" He sounds shocked, and again, I can't blame him. I played testosterone jockey to the hilt with him for a long time, keeping my true nature buried to deny my attraction to him. "I thought that you were as straight as a die."

Someday I'll tell him about Corey, and Jase...and my Nona. "No, this is not what I used to get up to in Vice; but I was wild. I loved life back then, and I was very good at my job," so good that Dave Parker had me transferred out before I slipped so deep into my undercover persona that I couldn't come back out and got myself killed. But that's another story.

"Gotta know it before you can trap it, baby?"

"Something like that."

He kisses my temple and gives me a brief squeeze before checking his watch. "Oh, good grief. Do you suppose we need to go back downstairs?"

I settle into him more and squeeze his arm. I'm not ready to leave here just yet. This is our safe space, and I need for him to understand a few things before we let the outside world in again. "Mac, you need to know...I was never stupid..."

"But you used to carry a cockring in your pocket just in case."

I feel the heat rise to my face, but I knew what I was getting into when I revealed this to him and he needs to know the truth. "I never got involved that way..."

He takes my face between his hands and holds it steady, looking deep into my eyes and telling me with his gaze that it's done and over; that the past doesn’t matter to him. "Maybe. Maybe not. I don't care. But now, you are mine, and you aren't ever, ever gonna look at anyone else the way that you look at me. Hear me?"

The past may not matter to him, but it does to me, and I need for him to know. I want there to be no misunderstandings between us. "I knew myself, what I was capable of...but I never slept around with a lot of people, and I was *always* safe."

The stunned look on his face says it all. We've never used protection with each other. Not that it mattered. The Agency gave us both extremely thorough physicals when we came in (and has every 18 months since) and we both tested clean. "Fuck, baby, that's something that didn't even occur to me."

I grin and kiss the tip of his nose. "My thoughts exactly."

"I wanted you so badly."

"I know," I stroke Mac's face, trying to convey love and comfort to this man that I adore.

He's showering me with little kisses on whatever part of me he can reach, and I know that I've done the right thing. "I know it may seem like I'm really wild, but you're the first person I've ever been this uninhibited with," I confess with a blush.

"Just as long as you never stop," he whispers sensuously, stoking the embers inside me.

Even so, it's still too early to do anything about it; but I can promise him this easily. "Never, baby."

He kisses me deeply, sweetly, filling me up with his love until I think I'm going to burst. "Think that maybe we should go back to work?" Mac's reluctance is clear, and I know exactly how he feels.

"Yeah, I think we need to," I sigh heavily, slipping from the shelter of his arms to start gathering my clothing up.

He struggles to his feet, knees cracking loudly in the relative silence of the room. "Grief, I'm getting so old," he mutters with a rueful grin.

I grin back as I try to find one of my socks. "Jackie and LiAnn are probably...," my voice trails off as I look toward the doorway, and I feel a sick horror bloom inside me.

Mac, distracted by his search for one of his boots, turns to look at me quizzically. "What? Probably what?"

I can't speak. I can only point, and Mac turns his head slowly to look at the door. His eyes open wide, and his jaw drops onto his chest. "Oh, Fuck," he whispers quietly.

Our partners, who we abandoned without a second thought downstairs a short while ago, are standing in the open doorway; and judging by the looks on their faces, they've seen and heard everything that went on in here tonight.

We are dead. We are so dead that they're going to have to bury us at least twice. "Yeah, that just about sums it up," I sigh quietly.

Jackie is looking stunned; and when she speaks, it's with a bizarre kind of reverence. "You guys are so.... like, so..."

"Go on, say it," Mac snarls impatiently.

"...*totally* hot," Jackie finishes in a daze.

I ignore her. I could care less what Jackie thinks. My attention is riveted to the slim, dark-haired woman gazing back at me with shock and betrayal in her beautiful almond eyes. I'm suddenly afraid, as it occurs to me just why she's looking at me that way. "LiAnn?"

LiAnn just stands there. Says nothing. My fear, both of her and for her, grows.

Mac steps toward her and she steps back. "LiAnn?"

"LiAnn, please," I stay still, but try to reach her with my gaze. Look at me, please, LiAnn. I'm sorry you had to find out like this.

"Come on, girl," Mac says slowly, "let's talk about this. We need to-you know we do," the fear I feel is reflected in his face, and a tremor races through me at the sight.

LiAnn shakes her head. "You two are fine without me," her voice, her face, her eyes are all flat and dead and it rocks me to the core to think that we hurt her this much with our relationship. All I can say in our defense is that we truly never tried to flauntit in front of her.

She turns to go, and I panic. "No! Wait!" I take a harsh breath as I realize that I can't chase after her naked, and quickly grab my underwear.

LiAnn turns back as I'm struggling to pull them on and I freeze. "What?" she asks evenly, as if I'm beneath even her contempt. Her walls are going back up, stronger and higher than ever before and I don't want that to happen. We need her, as a partner and a friend.

I finish pulling my skivs back on as she waits patiently. "LiAnn... this..." the words won't come and I look over at Mac--her brother, her ex, my lover--in frustration.

LiAnn tries to smile a little and fails miserably. "Victor, you don't need me. You and Mac... You're fine," she chokes a bit on the last word, and her eyes are overly bright; but she refuses to shed a single tear.

"LiAnn, this has nothing to do with us not caring about you," I need for her to understand that Mac and I aren't playing games here.

Her brow creases a little with her frown. "Victor, did I say that it did?"

She's cool once more; as calm and placid as a sheet of ice, but I can still see the tears shining in her eyes. "You just...you made your choice a long time ago, I think."

One delicate eyebrow arches in puzzlement. "Oh? And just what do you think my choice was?"

"To be independent; not to be tied down to one man," she winces slightly, and I know I've hit the mark with her.

Mac jumps into the fray. "He's right, LiAnn. And you know what? I've made mine too. I want to be tied down--to him." He walks over and kisses me on the shoulder, then grabs his jeans and slips them on before pulling on his shirt.

"Neither one of us was what you needed, LiAnn," I will her to see the truth of that statement, "but that doesn't mean that we don't still love you, just not the way we used to." I won't pull punches with her here. She needs to know exactly where she stands with us.

LiAnn looks at us for a long moment, then shakes her head with a sigh. "I don't know. I just feel alone. Everyone has someone...except for me."

Some of the fear I feel eases with her honesty. "Sweetheart, I don't know what to tell you. I do know we need you to be our friend...and our partner. That hasn't changed. We still need you, LiAnn. It's important that you stay in our lives."

She nods, and then turns to go down the stairs.

Jackie calls after her. "Hey, LiAnn? Wait up..."

Mac calls her back too. "LiAnn? I need you on our side. Okay?" He's appealing to her not as her lover, but as her brother--as Family--and she hesitates on the landing, head down, arms wrapped around herself in her misery as she tries to think of an answer.

Jackie turns back to look at him. "Well of course she's on your side. I mean, like what do you expect? Like you think she's gonna be wearing black or something?" Then the two women go down the stairs together, leaving us to stare at each other in amazement.

I break the silence first. "What the hell was that?"

"I think that was a demonstration of feminist solidarity," Mac quips with a sigh. "It's a jungle out there, Vic."

I sigh as well, and wriggle back into my pants. "Tell me about it."

Mac grins and waggles his eyebrows at me. "Wanna play Tarzan?"

I can't help but chuckle. Looks like we've just weathered our first major crisis as a couple. "As long as I get to wear the loincloth...later. Right now, we really need to get back to work or our asses are both grass."

He frowns at the mention of work. "Damn. I guess you're right. Come on then. You still have to have that dance with me," he holds up my missing sock and hands it to me, along with my boots.

"What!?" I sputter in mock outrage. "I already did dance with you...that's how all this started."

But I'm grinning as I say it, and Mac suddenly grabs me and pulls me into a soul kiss. I melt instantly and go with it, only pulling out when the minor matter of breathing makes me do so. "But I think I could be persuaded," I gasp as my lover carefully zips up my jacket and lovingly caresses it with his fingertips.

"To dance?" he whispers, with a devilish twinkle in his eye.

I love that look, and I feel myself start to stir again. "Yeah, and *so* many other things," I confirm, "*later.* Behave now. Well. Understood?"

He sighs loftily and pouts. "If you weren't such an affront to public decency, I'd be able to keep my hands off you for a few minutes," he accuses, batting his eyes at me.

Oh, this is too much. "Me!? What the hell do you expect, when you show up looking like *that?*" I caress his chest through the silver lame hologram t-shirt he's wearing, which happens to be a size too small. Every last muscle in his torso is clearly defined by the fabric and he knows it. I break away to put my boots back on before we get ourselves in even more trouble.

"I can see every line of your body like that," he shoots back before he lets me go, but nuzzles his way up my neck as I finish pulling on my gear. "And I love leather," he whispers hotly, nipping my ear before leading the way out of the room and down the stairs. I'm floating, and I know that nothing can bring me down tonight.

Until we get down to the bottom of the stairs where Jackie is waiting. "It's about freaking time!" She sounds slightly hysterical. "Where's LiAnn?"

"I don't know; she came down with you," Mac yells over the music. "Why? What happened??"

"We came down, she said she had to use the bathroom and I haven't seen her since! I got worried when she didn't come out...she's not in there!"

I've got a very cold feeling in my gut now. "How long?" I ask, hoping against hope that it's only been a minute or two and that they've just missed each other.

"Ten minutes!"

Oh, god. I suddenly remember why we're here. A dangerous predator; one that has no gender preference when it comes to his victims. "Check the bathrooms again! Mac, check the table; then start asking around, okay??"

They take off in opposite directions as I head for the bar. "Jase? JASON!!!"

"Hey, Vic!" He grins evilly as he takes in my slightly disheveled appearance. "Jesus, man, what are you trying to do; give all the women heart attacks?" his grin fades when he sees my expression. "What's wrong, man?"

I pull a picture of LiAnn, Mac and me out of my wallet and show it to him. "You didn't happen to see where she went, did you?"

He frowns for a minute in concentration. "I think I saw her come out of the bathroom," he says slowly, "but she didn't go back to her table. She could have headed for the back door. Why? She a friend of yours?"

"She's my ex-Mac's too. Are you sure she went out back? It's important."

He looks startled, but wisely keeps his mouth shut about my lovelife. "Hell, no. But it looked like she was headed that way."

"Thanks, man," I jog back to where Mac and Jackie are waiting for me. "Anything?"

They shake their heads no. "Jason says she may have gone out back," I head out and they fall into step with me.

"Jason?" Mac asks quietly. "Friend of yours?"

So he did notice after all. "Yeah. And I'll tell you later, okay? We gotta find LiAnn first."

He nods and falls silent as we get to the back door of the club. I take a deep breath, then push it open...onto nothing. The alley is empty and quiet, and that fear I felt when I first saw LiAnn in the doorway is back full force; choking me with it's intensity.

"LIAAANNNNNNNE!!!!!! LIAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!" I expected nothing, and that's exactly what I got. Shit. No. Please, dear God, no. Don't do this to me. Not now.

"Victor..." Mac is pale and shaking as he holds something shiny up for me to see. LiAnn's jade bracelet, the one she's had since the age of twelve--when it was given to her by Mac as a birthday present. The one she never, ever took off. She once told me that it was her luck.

Now, it's an omen, and not a good one. I feel the apprehension rocket up my spine.

Looking at it, I can see the clasp is broken; twisted as if it was stepped on. "Where was it?"

"Hanging from a broken hinge on the dumpster," Jackie is surprisingly quiet, pale...and articulate. Her valley girl voice is gone. "And it looks like there might be some blood, too."

I think we are in serious, serious trouble... I turn to Mac, and my heart twists at the sight of his ashen face. He is shaking so hard I think he might be going into shock and I automatically step toward him, intent on comforting him.

"No." The nearly silent whisper is deafening in the unnatural calm of the alleyway and I feel my heart stop along with my momentum.

"Don't touch me." No...

"I don't want you near me." Please, Mac...don't...

"It was better when I didn't love anyone because then I couldn't feel like this." Please don't...I love you...I need you...

"If I hadn't wanted you, LiAnn would still be next to me now." Oh, Jesus...please don't do this...

"Don't ever touch me again." Please? I'll do whatever you want...just don't send me away...I can't live without you, Mac...you are my life. I'll die without you.

"I can't do this." No...no...nonononononono...

And then he's gone, turning away from me to go back inside without so much as a glance backward.

Just like that, the perfect happiness of the past few weeks is gone; snuffed out like the flame of a candle. My soul, my life has been ripped from me; and it hurts.

It hurts...ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts...

WHACK!!!!! A lightening flash of pain rockets through my cheekbone to stab into my eye and I welcome it. "Victor! Snap out of it! We don't have time for this!"

I know that voice. A vague memory floats across the wreck of my mind as I try to put a name to the face before me. Sweet, round, female, blonde...

"Jackie?" God, is that my voice? I sound like I swallowed a rat-tailed rasp. My vocal cords are destroyed, but I don't know why that should be. And why am I kneeling in a dirty alley, dressed like a bad Elvis impersonator?

"Yes. Get up. We gotta get Mac and find LiAnn. We gotta hurry," her eyes are wide in the dim light. She looks scared.

Faces float to the surface of my brain, connected to the names mentioned. Delicate, exotic, Asian...LiAnn. Boyish, sweet, sexy...beautiful smile, beautiful eyes...whispering 'I love you' with a rapturous gaze; suddenly pale...the beautiful eyes dead and cold, the beautiful smile gone forever- -because of me. Because I couldn't control the beast inside me, and lost something precious to both of us on account of it. The emptiness inside me screams.

"Jeez, Vic, don't zone out on me again--there's no way I can pick you up. Come on, cut me a break here," she strokes my cheek gently, looking sad now. Why is she sad? It's not like her to be that way. "Sweetie, you know Mac didn't mean it; he's just upset right now."

Mac...oh, god; he's all by himself...

I focus on the woman beside me. "Go to him. Don't leave him alone," she starts to protest and I cut her off. "Please, Jackie. I need you to go to him now," she's gearing up to protest again. How can I make her understand that I don’t matter anymore? As of this moment, I'm a dead man walking; my body just has to catch up with the fact.

But I promise you, my love, I will find her and bring her back to you before I let my body die. I swear it, Mac. I won't let you down again. Never again.

I get up from the hard pavement and head towards the parking lot. "Victor, where are you going? What about Mac?"

I ignore Jackie's questions because I can't answer her.

And I can't answer her because I don't know the answers anymore. To anything.

Mac:

I'm happy. That's an understatement. I'm ecstatic. I don't think I've ever felt this way before in my life. Here I am, surrounded by a dark throng of people, all moving to the pounding beat, and my companion is... there are simply not words to describe the feelings that I get when I look at Victor tonight.

I lean back against the bar, sipping at my margarita and stretching lazily as I survey the devastating form of Vic Mansfield, my partner - my lover.

The man's glowing. He's wearing supple black leather that clings to his body as though it's been glued on, and I think it's fair to say that I'm entranced. He's gorgeous. A fucking wet dream. Long, long legs, slim hips that flare out into broad shoulders and a deep chest, and a face that's so beautiful I feel as though I should wear sunglasses when I look at him. Victor - my Victor is stunning. He's radiating a wild energy tonight that seems to be infecting everyone around him, drawing them until they end up circling around him like satellites.

I can sit back and enjoy the view, relishing the way Victor looks, because I know that the incredible man in the leather is all mine. At least, it seemed as though he was all mine, until this moment.

He's dancing with Jackie, and although the woman is incredibly irritating, I have to allow that she's also stunningly well built. Healthy is the way Vic usually describes her, shivering with a kind of horrified lust. I have to agree. Her body is perfectly toned, and her clothing is so damned tight that there's no possible way that she can be wearing underwear. We've amused ourselves many times imagining her in catfights with assorted opponents. Jackie nearly always wins.

So, here I am, lounging casually against the bar, watching her perform for Victor, writhing and undulating in her attempt to attract his interest, and presenting a very pleasant spectacle as she does so. Vic, glancing over her head to catch my eye, tips me a wink, grins, and runs his tongue over his lips. All of a sudden, I find breathing almost impossible.

Life was dull. I'd been searching for a long time for something meaningful. I'd groped blindly for something - someone to belong to, and all of a sudden, here it is. It was under my nose all along. Now that Vic and I are lovers it seems impossible to believe that I ever disliked him.

Reaching for my drink again, I study the effects that tight black leather has on Victor's ass, and I can feel myself rise in salute to my sexy lover. Damn! I wish that the two of us could dance together, but we're supposed to be working, and I know all too well what'll happen if I get up close to Vic. No, far better stay here and admire the view.

I've come a long way from my roots. Looking back on my life I'm constantly astonished at how far I've traveled. As a child I was a bit like an unwanted package, trailed around and then left to fend for myself when it no longer suited my father to take care of me. I was fiercely determined after my father had left me that I would never again depend on anyone. I would be entirely self-sufficient forever more. I didn't think that I needed anyone. Fat lot I knew, arrogant little prick that I was!

I hit the streets and learned to survive the hard way. I guess that I became a kind of artful dodger, fast and amoral as a cat. I really didn't care for anyone. I saw them all as marks to be taken and used. Fuck them all. They owed me.

When I lifted the wallet of the head of the Tang family, the two heavies that seized me and dragged me kicking and screeching to face the man I'd robbed had scared me shitless. Still, I can guarantee that more than their fare share of skin was missing by the time I was flung at Mr. Tang's feet. I was a defiant brat, but something in me seemed to appeal to Mr. Tang, because, far from having me killed or sold into slavery, Mr. Tang took me home, showed me kindness, and actually brought a half-wild youngster into his family.

I'd never had a family before. It was wonderful, even though I didn't trust - didn't dare. There I met LiAnn and Michael, and the three of us seemed to become friends, carrying out the most daring robberies before Michael and I grew to adulthood and sex reared its ugly head. It seems inevitable now that we should have fallen out over LiAnn. He wanted her, and I... I had her.

I suppose that I did love LiAnn; although I never actually said the words. We'd planned to get away from Michael--to leave the Tangs, and Hong Kong. We wanted to find safety, but everything went wrong. We planned one last job to fund our escape; after that we agreed we would quit, leave everything behind and find happiness together under friendlier skies.

LiAnn escaped, but I was taken to prison when my nine lives suddenly ran out. There I stayed for a year and a half. It gave me ample time to plan for my future. Too bad that none of my plans ever came to fruition. When at last I was sprung from jail by that redheaded Messalina who calls herself the Director, I was transported to Canada to work in a shadowy government agency that had no name.

Imagine my shock when LiAnn was the first face I saw there. She was working for the agency. I saw her in the corridor as he was on my way to my induction. She didn't see me, but I became determined that she was going to be mine again. I did love her, I swear I did.

Why I thought I could just reappear into her life and take up where we left off, I have no idea. When I finally found LiAnn, I also found Victor.

Let me tell you about Victor, my beautiful Vic. He's strong and sturdy, straight as a die, with huge eyes and a short temper, and it's an understatement to say that he resented my attempts to worm my way back into LiAnn's life. He was going to marry LiAnn at that time and somehow he succeeded in pissing me off merely by existing. He hated me. I, of course, pissed him off at every opportunity.

Hey, no excuses. It was fun!

We circled each other warily, each of us bristling with irritation until eventually we learned to trust one another. We must have seemed to outsiders like two dogs, snapping and snarling over territory. It's funny how things work out, because now the circle is complete. Vic's more than just my partner; Vic's a part of me. Vic, of all people, is the one who thawed out my heart and taught me that caring isn't just an option, but a necessity. Vic Mansfield, ex-cop, is the one who finally taught me about love. Vic is the one to whom I finally said 'I love you,' and I'm hopelessly, completely, head-over-heels in love with him.

I like it, sure I do; but it scares me rigid that my happiness should depend on someone else's wellbeing. I need Vic - need him the way that I need oxygen to breathe, and that's a terrifying sensation. See, I swore long ago that I wouldn't ever care about anyone but myself, and now here I am, trapped by love. So far it hasn't been arduous. Vic's very tender towards me. He treats me as though I'm a fragile and precious thing rather than an adult version of the little guttersnipe that robbed and cheated and whored throughout Hong Kong.

I don't want to feel, thank you very much! If it's all the same to you, I don't want to care; and least of all do I want to love this self-sufficient, prickly man, however beautiful he might be. I just want to return to the safety of my flippant insouciance. I want my barriers in place once more. Things are so much easier to bear when you don't give a flying fuck.

LiAnn's sitting across the room from me right now, nursing a cocktail of her own, and frowning abstractedly at nothing in particular. That makes me grin ruefully. She's got a lot to think about. She was so sure that Victor and I would hang on for love of her until she made her decision as to which of us she'd take. She relished our jealous skirmishes. She loved them. She was always subtly stoking the fires of jealousy that festered between us even as she rejected our advances. Well LiAnn, my baby, as the Director tells us, there is always a third door. You'll never guess where I found it. It was the night that Vic and I shared a stakeout and first discovered that we wanted each other. Opening that third door has shown me a vista that I never dreamed about. I wouldn't go back through it again if I could.

Victor possessed me completely. Making love with Vic has taught me that my body needs him. I've never felt anything like the pleasures that Vic gives me, and now I'm an addict, a Victor junkie- -always craving my next fix and never, ever getting enough of him.

It must have been a shock to LiAnn two days ago, when she strolled into my apartment unannounced to find us fucking on the rug in the living room. I was on my back, and Vic was stuck so far into my ass that I could see stars. My legs were scrunched up alongside my ears while Vic pumped into me and talked me up towards orgasm with that honeyed, gritty whisper of his.

Vic groaned and lost it as soon as he saw her. Truth to tell I think it turned him on. He certainly went wild, and it only took a couple of seconds before he was spurting into me with locked muscles and a look of terrified bliss. I came in response to Vic's final lunge, howling because the torrent pouring out through my dick felt so fucking wonderful as it spurted between the two of us. It left me panting, totally unable to do anything except groan. Then Vic's mouth crushed down onto mine, sucking all conscious thought out of my brain and leaving me filled only with thoughts of love and of need for him, my gorgeous lover.

When Vic finally pulled away from me, LiAnn had already left the room and gone. We didn't see her again that day. When we did finally catch up with her she maintained a stony, uncomfortable silence that makes me wonder whether she disapproves of Vic and I on general principals, or whether she's just plain jealous that we've found each other and left her out in the cold. I don't think that she's a homophobe. She never seemed to be until now. Like the Director says, there are many more flavors than just white bread. LiAnn always agrees with her, so what's the problem? I guess that I should have a try at finding out just where her problem with us lies.

Sighing, I knock back the remains of my drink. It's going to be an uncomfortable conversation, and one that I'd avoid if only I could though I know that it's not possible to do that. I stand, flexing my spine, wanting Vic to see me, and feel for me the way that I do for him. I'm taller than he is, and much more slender, without the power of chest and shoulder that he has. He's built like a boxer, while I'm built for speed. I'm a martial artist, while he's a down and dirty street fighter. Both styles work. When we're together they work just fine. I'm dressed 'for tomcatting', as Vic would say, clad in tight, faded old jeans that fit me like a second skin. Portions of them are ripped while parts have merely worn away, but they are so comfortable that I'll never throw them out. They may disintegrate some day soon but 'til then, I love 'em. I'm wearing them with a silver lame T-shirt, and my suede jacket hangs over the back of my chair. I don't look bad, though I'm not in Victor's class. Just looking at him makes my dick stand on end.

Tearing my eyes away from my lover, I make my way across the bar to come to a standstill beside LiAnn.

The wretched woman continues to sip at her drink--ignoring my looming presence at her shoulder-- and I sigh, dropping to my knees to bring myself onto a level with her.

"LiAnn?" I drape an arm over her shoulders in a casually possessive action, and she stiffens. After a minute, I withdraw it, and try again. "LiAnn. Please talk to me."

LiAnn doesn't turn to look at me, merely saying, "Later, please. We're working."

With a sinking heart, I search her beautiful face, looking for any softness, any sign that she might be weakening towards us, but it seems not. Reluctantly, I turn away to go back to the bar, and then pause while I try one last time.

"I need you to be my friend, LiAnn. We both need you." I wait. She doesn't look at me, just toys with the straw of her drink. Then, just as I'm about to give up hope and move away her voice drifts up to me.

"I am your friend. Later, Mac." It's a start, but I'm dispirited.

I head off, aiming for my seat by the bar. My eyes are drawn to Victor all over again, sleek and feral in his skin of leather, and that makes me change my mind. I order us a couple of drinks, and hold his up to him until he makes a beeline for me. He sips, and then flashes me a smile, those white teeth of his gleaming almost blue in the UV lighting of the dancefloor. That's when I kiss him. I have to. He's gotten to me to the degree that all I can think of is his lips on mine. When I cup his face and raise my lips to lay them on his it's all I can do to keep from pressing him up against the bar. His mouth opens wide for me, and he tastes of rum and coke, of salt sweat, and desire.

Still, there are things that we have to talk about, and I don't know how he's going to take them. I eye him speculatively, wanting to lap up the sweat that shines on his forehead, wanting - oh, longing to wrap my arms around him and stop him from ever being with anyone else again.

Forget the world, and just love me, Victor Mansfield.

I know that it isn't possible. He'd kill me or I'd kill him after a week or two if we only had each other's company. We irritate the heck out of each other, but he's mine, dammit. He's mine and nobody gets to touch him. Nobody else gets that smile. Only me.

"Vic."

I know that he's not really paying attention to me. He's watching that cow, Jackie.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I wish you'd do something about LiAnn. She's so... closed off." I'm trying to bring him around to notice me, make him see me, not her. I know, I'm shallow and manipulative, but I can't stand that he's looking at her.

He swings to meet my eyes, looking a little confused, as well he might.

"What can I do? You're the one that said to let it go until later." Shoot! So I was. Well, damn. Things change. When I said that, I didn't think that you'd be drooling over 'little miss valley girl' did I? What the fuck is wrong with me?

"I don't know," I say, wanting him to put his arms around me and tell me it's time to go home and make love instead of just standing there radiating glamour in waves until everyone in this place wants a piece of him.

I can't say that though, can I? That sounds so needy. I don't want to make him claustrophobic. He needs his space or I'll lose him. It makes the tone of my voice harsher than I want it to sound. "Did you talk to her?" I catch something in his gaze. "You did, didn't you?"

He looks sheepish. I think he believes that I'm mad at him.

"A little, maybe." He responds, smiling a small, placatory smile that makes me itch to crush him to me. I don't act on it, but my hands reach to stroke him, to touch the softness of his leather, and I feel the skin stretched taut over his thigh with a gasp of delight that I can hardly disguise.

"What did you say to her? She won't even look at me." Might as well heap on the guilt.

"Not much. I did ask her how she felt about us." That makes me wince. Poor Vic! He's getting it from both of us now. I don't want to rub salt in his wounds, but I don't want him feeling too good, know what I mean?

"Jesus, baby! Whaddya mean, not much? What did she say?" I want to know. He's a braver man than I am. He always has been. LiAnn can be a real bitch when she's not happy. One thing I'm certain enough to bet the farm on is that LiAnn is not a happy camper today.

"She didn't say anything." His beautiful eyes are flat, all the light that normally dances within lies somewhere behind them in a place that I can't see. "Just said that we were entitled to live our own lives, and went blank again."

"So why the hell won't she look at me?" I sound needy, desperate even. I don't want to heap the guilt onto him any more. I just want it all to end. I want us all to be happy. Okay, I might as well believe in fairies, in gold at the end of the rainbow, and the Wizard of Oz, but tell me this, why shouldn't we have happy ever after? What chance did we have before now? Don't we deserve a break? My life has been no bed of roses until now, and I know that he has been through hell.

Victor sighs heavily, and I feel like such a heel.

"I don't know, baby. She won't look at me either." He hangs his head, and I kick myself for successfully bringing him down when he was having such a good time. Then, he surprises me when he observes, "I think she thought we were supposed to wait forever for her or something." He's right, so right...but I never thought that I'd hear him say it. I'm looking at him as though I want to devour him whole. I should have known that he'd see through her. He's good at cutting through the bullshit. "She was a lot like this when we were first partnered, before you came into the picture, " he adds, and I understand his insight. I nod, and smile at him, tracing his jaw with my finger.

"Well, we have to do something. We can't let this go on." How can I make him feel better? My practical Victor will respond to a call to arms. I know it.

He doesn't let me down. He lifts his head and his eyes meet mine. The lights aren't exactly dancing, but they are back again. He doesn't have that terrible flatness to his expression any more. "Tell me what and I'll do it," he whispers, promising me everything that he has yet again. "But, baby, I don't think it's anything we can fix."

"Don't you care?" The stupid words are out of my mouth before I can call them back. When I see his head droop again, I wish them unsaid with all of my heart. "It's not just your life that's going out the window here. How can we trust her, depend on her in a tight corner, if she hates us?"

"Of course I care, Mac." He sounds defeated. Way to go, Ramsey. For my next trick why don't I just set fire to him, or punch him in the face? I might as well. " She's my partner too, but how can I do anything if she won't talk to either of us?" I hear what he's telling me. It's my battle as well as his. I know it, Vic. I really do.

"We have to do something. We can't just leave it." He's pleading now, even though we both know it's useless. "Make her see," He lifts his head again at my words, and this time that chin of his goes up. I know that gesture. I love it. He's digging in his heels, refusing to rise to my baiting of him. "I guess I'll talk to her." But I know he's thinking of solutions. He's sexy when he's thinking. There's a little crease that runs across the top of his nose that deepens, and his lips purse.

"Don't get your hopes up, baby," he murmurs mildly in that sexy, sand and gasoline voice that brings me out in goosebumps. "She was pretty abrupt with me earlier." Did I tell you about his voice? It's a sandblasted growl that strokes over skin as though it were fur, and makes me shiver when he uses it to describe to me the things that he's going to do to make me come.

"You don't think that she'll listen to me?" I grew up with her. There must be something that I can say, or that I can do to make her unbend and go back to the way we were. I just don't have a clue what that might be. I take refuge in arrogance, knowing that he can see clear through me.

"I think she's hurting and I can understand that; but it's keeping her closed off right now." Did I ever tell you how kind my lover is? He's got every right to be pissed at LiAnn - at me too, actually, but he's showing us both understanding even though we don't deserve it. I feel a surge of love for him that threatens to make me burst if I can't touch him, hold him or something.

"I guess so." Enough already! If I can't take him to bed and make love to him, then there must be a way I can hold him without making too many waves. A lightbulb blazes brightly above my head. I feel it as it manifests. "God, Vic, I wish we could dance together. You look so... hot."

"Yeah?" The bastard runs his hands suggestively over tightly leather-clad thighs and just about blows all my circuits. If I can't get my hands on him in the next five minutes, I'm going to explode. "Well," he continues. "It's not as if anybody's gonna care, Mac. Take a look around. It's a pretty open club." True, there are guys dancing together, and in one corner, I can see a couple of women locked together in an embrace that is what I'd call decisive. I move in, pressing myself the length of his fine, hard body, and groan.

"Oh, baby." My hands stroke the leather. It feels buttery and warm to my touch, and I press in even closer, rubbing myself against him. I know that he can feel my dick hard against his thigh. I just can't think of anything but him. I want to touch him. I put on my best, wounded puppy-dog expression. "Think that we could dance once?"

I hear his sharp intake of breath as I wriggle my hips, and manage to apply a little pressure to his basket. "Baby..."

"What?" I try to sound distracted. If he doesn't know that it's premeditated, he won't get mad at me, will he? Looking at him proves to be a mistake. He knows damned fine what I'm doing, and he's grinning. He fights fire with fire, pulling me in to kiss me, nipping my lips as he samples my mouth.

"One dance, Mac." My heart thumps. "We're supposed to be working." Yes Dad! You have to make sure that us young, flighty types know our place, I know that... but we're gonna have that dance, so see if I care!

I lean in to him and nuzzle into his neck, grinning foolishly. I poke out my tongue to taste his sweat-slick chin as my hands stroke him through his skin of leather. I whisper in his ear the thing that's been burning me all night, hoping and praying that he doesn't think that I'm an idiot. "I need them to know that you're mine. They keep on touching you. I don't like it."

He looks so surprised. "Baby, I'm going home with you, and they all know it." He's smiling, but not laughing. He looks as though I've paid him a compliment, not revealed myself as a pathetic, obsessed stalker. Then he grins impishly. "Did you see the looks you got when you walked in?"

"They may know it, but I want them to really feel it." I'm trying to diffuse the impact of what I've said, just in case, but then what he just said sinks into my thick head. I shake my head and frown. "Me? No. What looks would those be?" I mean, I know that I don't look bad, but really! Line the two of us up and get the women to file past. I guarantee that they'll all go for Victor, just from the way he's radiating heat. One look at him and you just know that he'll treat you right.

"All the women creamed their jeans when you came through that door, baby; and probably most of the men." He's nibbling my ear as that soulful whisper stabs straight through to my gonads. He should use this technique on criminals to get them to confess. God knows that I would tell him anything just to get him to keep on doing what he's doing. "You look so damn fine tonight, lover." His hands have been cupping my butt, and somehow his fingers find their way though the tear in one leg, and begin stroking my thigh, and then delving between my ass cheeks to feel for my soft center. When the gentle probing slips between the cheeks of my ass, I think that I'm going to die. Oh, baby!

"Except for LiAnn and Jackie, huh?" I gasp, as I feel thrills from the pressure of his fingers. "You've got me confused with you, Vic. You're the one who's turning heads." He's planting kisses along my jaw line, down my neck. I'm hard as rock and so close to coming I'm in a daze. He turns me to lean up against the bar so that his wandering hand isn't blindingly obvious, and all of a sudden I realize that I'm gonna make a mess of these jeans if this carries on any longer.

"Maybe even them. Jackie's coveting your ass, you know." He's giving me hickeys, the bastard. He's making me into some demented art form. Mac Ramsey as a blank canvas on which he's painting blood red roses. He knows that I prefer white. Strike that. I want whatever it is that he chooses to give me. What I want right now, more than anything, is to lie right down here on the floor and spread myself open for him, or maybe to turn and bend myself over the barstool while he fucks me.

"Victor, I..." How can I say this?

"What, baby?" He's not paying attention. I grab hold of his arms, stopping him short. He groans and lifts up his face, and I claim his lips. I get the shivers as our tongues collide, and the softness of his mouth, the sensations that run through me as I explore it, all make me crazy with lust. He bares his throat as I slide my own mouth over his skin, nipping at his Adam's apple. I'm holding him to me, squeezing the breath from him, and I'm shaking...shaking.

"I'm scared all the time." There! I said it, and now he's going to think that I'm some kind of a weakling. "I don't know how to do this, baby." God! I sound like such a wimp.

"Of what baby?" He's confused, as well he might be. I'm a little bit perplexed myself. "You don't know how to do what?"

"How to keep you." I'm mumbling, miserably aware of what a fool I'm making of myself.

He pulls back to look me in the eyes. He's smiling, and the lights are back dancing in his eyes again, for me - for me! His smile is sweeter than anything I ever saw, and he reaches up to cup my face in his hands, gentle even though I'm hurting him with my grip on the flesh of his arms because somehow I can't quite seem to be able to let him go.

"Baby, you've got me for the rest of my life," he husks at me. "I told you there was no one else for me ever again... How can I make you believe? What can I do to show you what you mean to me?"

"I don't know." I hang my head, and I can feel the heat that means I'm blushing. The sheer humiliation of the conversation makes me want to hide myself somewhere where he can't see me: can't laugh at me. "It's just how I feel."

"Oh, baby." He says it like it's a good thing. Like he doesn't want to run a mile from me, as needy and insecure as I am. He hugs me tightly. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I want to lose myself in you. I don't want to feel afraid all the time." I sound so stupid to myself. He's hanging in there, and he hasn't laughed at me yet. I love him for that as well.

"I don't know what to tell you," He whispers. "I'm not good with words. All I know how to do is love you."

"Just dance with me, Vic. I need to feel you close to me." I'm holding him against me, and we're on the edge of the dance floor. We can do this and maybe I'll feel better. Maybe I'll get over my jitters. I don't know why I can't just accept that he loves me and move on. Am I stupid?

"Okay," he growls, sultry and sensual. "Anything you want, baby." He nudges his hard-on against me suggestively, and my own leaps in answer. Fuck! He grins, a face so damned sexy that I can't breathe. I gaze at him appreciatively, and then out of the corner of my eye, I see Jackie doing the same. Let her look, but she'd better keep her hands off him.

"Just so you know...it wasn't MY ass that Jackie was cootching up to a few minutes ago," I say, tartly. I'm jealous. So bite me. He's mine.

Victor leads me onto the dancefloor, and turns his head to laugh as he hears me griping. "Yeah, well, I'd rather it had been you. She's...nice, but not exactly what I'm looking for, you know?" He looks me up and down lewdly, and his hands move to insert themselves into that tear in my jeans again. I shiver, but we're talking, and while the mood lasts I have to know it all.

"What about LiAnn? She was, wasn't she?" I see him wince. "She was exactly what you were looking for."

"Yeah, at the time," he says, and his eyes are boring into mine. Those little lights inside them are flinty at the moment. "And then the times changed."

"Are you sure?" Of course he's sure, idiot! Way to make him run a mile. I shake my head at myself. God, I'm pathetic. "Jeez. I just don't know. I feel so fucking out of control all the time."

Victor doesn't run screaming from me, he pulls me closer, and his face is as open and honest as I've ever seen it. He takes my face in his hands again, willing me to listen to him, as if I could do anything else when he's possessed my soul so completely.

"Mac, you know I'm bi, I've never made a secret of that. I like women all right...but I *love* you. I've spent my whole life waiting for you. That's why it never worked before." He's willing me to believe him, and I do.

I close my eyes, sighing as my heart pounds. I melt against him as we sway to the music. It's a driving technobeat, the kind that I get off on, but we're not dancing hard, somehow we're existing within this little bubble that encloses us, and the music doesn't make us crazy at all. The steady pulse of Vic's life thumps under my hands and that's the music I hear. That's the beat that drives me. That's the beat that drives both of us. It's the only thing that's real in this whole world and nothing else matters. I move my lips to his ear, and feel a frisson run through him.

"Is it working now?"

He laughs. "Oh, hell yeah. It's working just fine."

I catch Jackie's eye again, and she's sniggering about something. It's too much. "Look at us. I'm a wreck, and everyone laughs at us. Our partner doesn't even want to look at us, and I don't know what to do."

"Who's laughing at us?" he mumbles, and I wonder if he really doesn't know.

"Jackie and the Director... Fucking Dobrinsky. I'd like to rip his head off and feed it to him." I hear Vic chuckle, and wonder if he's taking me seriously. He's looking over at Jackie. Then he grips me tight, making a big play out of squeezing my ass as we sway together.

"In case you haven't noticed, that's not laughter...that's lust... I've wanted to kill her for the way she's been eyeing you, but I really can't fault her taste." He dusts my chin with kisses, and I protest the words, whilst accepting the caresses.

"Oh, come on. Even I know that it was you she was wriggling her assets at." He snickers, a little hiccup of laughter that catches at my balls as it flickers over my flesh.

"Yeah," he rejoins. "But she likes to see you get mad. She's coveting your ass, baby. You know it." He grins, inviting me to share the joke, and he's so goddamned beautiful I can't stay irritated. "As for the Dragon, I have it on very good authority that she did keep that tape."

He means the one that showed us at Vic's ill-fated dinner party. That would be a damned fine tape. I'd love to have a copy of it myself, and one of these days I'll ask the Director for one. That was really the first time that Vic and I made love to each other, and his furniture didn't survive it. I wonder who would have told him this little piece of information about her viewing habits. Not the Director, that's for damned sure. I'm wondering how I can get the information out of Victor, but he carries on and the moment passes. His voice takes on the characteristic dislike that mention of Mr. Dobrinsky always earns from him --not just from him either. "And Dobie? Fuck him if he can't take a joke. He just wishes he could have someone as hot as you."

I stand stock still in the middle of the dance floor, pulling him with me. I start to speak twice, but my tongue is thick in my mouth. The passion is sending prickles of lust through me. I gaze into those eyes of his, and try again.

"Fuck him? Oh, Vic, baby, I'd so much rather fuck you." Sliding my arms around him, I lower my mouth to his, slowly, savoring the show as his pupils dilate, and his lips part ready to let me in. By the time I actually kiss him, I'm moaning. Kissing Vic is likely to shorten my life by ten years. I can feel him straining against me, sending splinters of delight through my cock. My knees are wobbly, and someone removed my belly with an ice-cream scoop, then filled the space with small fluttery things. When finally I let go his mouth, I don't pull back, I stay, lips resting against his, forehead leaning on his, waiting for my breath to steady itself.

"God, I need you. How come I need you so much?" I whisper against his mouth.

Victor's panting too, and he's smiling against my lips as he considers his answer.

"I don't know, but it's probably the same reason I need you." I feel a tremor run through his body, and he turns his head a little to lay his cheek against my lips. "God, baby." He shakes his head.

"I want you." He laughs. I think he believes I mean that I want him in general, but I don't. I want - no, make that need - him now. "I really, really want you," I say again, and slide down to my knees, circle those slim hips of his, and lay my cheek against the leather that covers his cock. It gets to him. Victor throws his head back and moans, loudly enough that people start taking an interest in us and move to circle us. Do I care? Not so that you would notice! I look up at him, plaintively. "Please, Vic. Give it to me."

"Baby, we gotta work. We can't." He's still being sensible, damn it. I can smell the waves of lust coming off him. I can practically taste the flavor of his cock on my tongue. He can't refuse me. I lick the leather that stretches tight across his balls and get a whimper in response. "Oh, baby..."

My arms are circling his hips, and I've got my face buried in his groin. Nuzzling into him, I trace the outline of his dick rising up behind the zipper. One way or another, you're coming with me tonight, Victor Mansfield. I know exactly where to press to get you off. I smile, then pout outrageously, knowing that I'm acting like a queen, and not caring if it gets me Vic as my concubine for the evening. "I want you. I really, really need you, baby." I nuzzle him again.

Victor's eyes are dark, and he's bucking a little. Oops! Better back off a bit or it will be too late. Don't want that. He starts babbling, and I know that I have him. "Baby, please...gotta behave...gotta stop...gonna make me come...make me come...can't...please."

I stand up, moving back a little, pumping my own hips to the beat, and putting on a show for him. An idea strikes me. I take Vic's hand and bring it to press up against my own swollen dick. "Feel that?" I murmur.

"Yes." Like the whole of fucking North America can't feel it. With this mighty weapon I will win the pole vault for Canada in the Olympics. Just watch me. "Oh, shit," he says, rubbing it lovingly. Strike the Olympics. I won't have it for long enough to compete. "I want it, Mac. Want it now."

I have him. He's mine. This is a good thing. Now to make it happen. I pull in close again, my forehead against his, our eyes striking sparks each with the other.

"I need you now. Not later. Not tomorrow. I need you, Vic."

Vic groans. He's looking for a way out, but there's no chance. I can scent it on him, he's going to give in.

"Jesus, baby, how can you do this to me? I can't think; I can't see. It's so hot in here, and you smell so fucking good." It's your own fault, my lover. You shouldn't be so fucking gorgeous. How can I help myself when you will insist on looking and being such a blinding flash that you burn my eyes? You make me do it.

"Where can we go, Vic. There must be somewhere?" I'm gonna get laid. Here, or elsewhere. It doesn’t matter as long as it's soon. I almost miss what he says, but then he ups the ante.

"I want you inside me and we can't..." Oh, fuck! He wants me to screw him. I don't know. My knees are doing their uncertain, loose-jointed thing again. Vic's all glowing, shiny with desire. He's like a plump nectarine, sun-warmed and rosy, waiting for me to pick it. It will be firm and smooth, and when I bite into it the juice will run down my chin...

"Me? You mean...?" He wants me to fuck him, and I don't know how to do that. I never have, not with a man, and I'll hurt him, or disgrace myself by shooting too soon, or he just won't enjoy it, and then he'll leave me. I gulp. "Oh, boy."

"There's rooms upstairs," he whispers into my ear, and the sound of his voice is so sexy that I almost come at the thought. He sees the effect that he's having on me too. He gives me an amused look, and adds, "Party rooms - if you promise you'll take me tonight, right now."

"Oh." I must sound so insecure and pathetic. My voice is a mere squeak. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Oh, yeah, baby." He sounds so certain, and I know that it's going to be such a fucking mess. "I want to feel you inside me. I want to know what it's like to be totally yours."

"How long?" He's running his tongue around my ear, and it's hard to concentrate on anything except the ache between my legs. He's such a bastard. He'll push me, and drive me crazy until I can't stand it any more. I know that I'll try to give him what he wants, but why he has to have this I don't know. The other is so fucking good. "I mean how can we? Can you set it up?"

Victor's seducing me with words, growling softly in my ear and raising the hairs on my neck with his sweet breath, and I'm a basket case. I'm wondering if we're gonna be able to get a room, or if I'll have to drag him outside into the back of his truck again when he smiles. "Yeah," he says sunnily. "Jason will do it for me if I ask. All you have to do is say the word."

There should be alarm bells going off in all directions. I mean, who the hell is Jason? But I'm trembling now, and all I can think of is Vic in my arms, moaning for me as I drive him crazy. I lean down to breathe assent into his ear. "Oh, fuck, yeah. Just...hurry."

I see him make some kind of signal to the bartender, getting a nod back like this is a set up of some kind. What the hell have I stepped into here?

"Done, and done, lover," says my gorgeous, sinful darling. The bartender incidentally is a babe himself. He's got the sweetest baby-face I've ever seen, and he makes a face at me over Vic's head, lascivious as all get out. He runs his tongue around his lips, and then thrusts it in and out of his mouth obscenely as Vic turns away. I lift my middle finger and flip him the bird as he snickers. I'll get him later. Vic's voice trails back to me. "Let's go."

A thought occurs to me. Shit! LiAnn and Jackie! "Do we... do we need to tell them that we'll be coming back?" What am I saying? Of course we do. They'll have a cow if they think we bailed on them for good. I'll amend that. They'll have a cow if they think that we've slipped away for a quick fuck as well. No scenario I can picture involves them smiling happily as Victor and I disappear for anything other than business.

Victor considers. "I don't know. Do you think we should?"

"They might get mad." On the other hand, they're certain to get mad if we tell them that we're just nipping off to get laid. What to do? What to do?

Victor settles it for me. "Make it quick...and make the story good, Mac." Yes, B'wana! "I don't want the Director on our asses any more than necessary." Like I do? Come on! Still, I do know what he means. That woman scares me to death.

"God, no!" I head over to where the two of them are sitting, and tell them that we're just going out for a minute or two.

"We have a couple of points that we need to tidy up. We'll be back in ten, okay?" LiAnn nods, absently, and Jackie gives me her widest grin.

"Okay, Mac. Like, take your time. Those points can sometimes take a whole lot of polishing to get the shine on them. This place is like so totally jumping. We're having so much fun." She's just like Garfield's doggy companion, Odie, I swear to God.

I return to Vic who's waiting for me with a really predatory expression on his face. I feel my arousal hike a couple of notches when I look at the way he's eating me up with those eyes of his - half lidded and considering, lights dancing mischief in the gleam of them. He's so hot he's incandescent.

"Quick enough for you?" I grab hold of his hand and together we make for the back. "Where do we go, babe?"

"There's a set of stairs on the left." He points them out and I'm away, heading for them with the single-mindedness of purpose that I consider to be one of my better traits. LiAnn would tell you that I'm a stubborn bastard, but I say that I'm focused.

Somehow Vic overtakes me, and I get the best view of his fine, leather clad ass as I follow him up the stairs. I can't keep my hands off him, and I reach up with a groan to stroke the moving muscles in their coating of black as he ascends the staircase. My dick is aching now and all I can think of is Victor.

The room at the end of the hallway is larger and nicer than I had thought, but there are some worrying things lying around - things that I really don't like the look of at all. I'll beat anyone in a fair fight, but why would I want to tie someone down and whip him, especially someone like my Victor? I don't want to think about that.

He turns to wait for me and I walk straight into his arms, my mouth seeking his in something that feels pleasantly like desperation, and then as his tongue slides into my mouth, disconcertingly like the destruction of Mount St. Helens. I'm all over him. My hands slide the length of his torso as I suck on his tongue, and then draw back to whisper into his mouth.

"Nobody else has ever done this to me, Vic, made me feel this way. I can take them or leave them. But you...Oh, God."

The music is muted here, but it's still that insistent, driving beat that I love. It pounds through the soles of my feet, and up my legs to make me jerk. Then his voice in my ears drives me crazy as he whispers, "What, baby? What do I do to you?"

"God. Come here, and I'll show you." There's a bed. I move over to stand beside it and wait for him. He steps up beside me, his arms spread wide, granting me access to all of him.

"All yours," he tells me with a gleam in his eye. I look him up and down, practically drooling, and begin to unwrap my gift, dragging down on the zipper of his jacket to expose his deep chest, smooth-shiny and silken to my hand. I leave the jacket and drop onto my knees again. I seem to spend a lot of time kneeling to worship Victor. This time, I attack the fastenings and zipper of the tight leather pants. My hands slip as I try to push them down and off his hips, and he takes pity on me, slipping his thumbs into the waistband to shove them down with a sinuous wriggle that makes me gasp. I pull him to me, searching with my mouth. He's got soft cotton boxer briefs on, and I taste him through the delicate fabric, damp cockhead oozing fluid for me, because he wants me.

He wants me! I hear his whimpered 'baby' as I lick and suck at him through the material and merely grunt at him as I torment him with my mouth.

"I want your mouth," he tells me. "You're so good. Need to feel your mouth on me." That makes me crack out laughing.

"Like you could escape it!" I pull down the front of his undies, allowing Vic's cock to spring free. Then, I capture it with one hand and looks up at Vic for just a second, making a great show out of licking my lips. I think he's going to scream in frustration, and I can't have that. People would think I was using those whips and things. I suck him right in, deep and hard, the way he likes it. He's nectar on my tongue, the taste of him as sweet and firm and juicy as that nectarine, but mine, and living, and loving me.

"Ahhh!" Hey, he likes it. What can I say? "Like I really want to! Jesus, baby...oh, yeah...suck me." He's losing it, becoming incoherent as he starts to feel me really go to work on him. Soon even those little disjointed cries are too much for him and all I hear are groans as he tries to keep himself together while I suck, and lick, and worship.

My hands are scrabbling to push the leather pants down to his knees, and when I finally get them there, I feel for the little starfish crinkle of his ass, gently stroking it, and then pressing my finger home inside him. He cries out, and I'm suddenly scared. I pull away.

"Oh, God, Vic, did I hurt you?" He's panting, his eyes are glazed over, the little lights in his eyes diffuse and hazy.

"What?" He tries to collect himself. "Oh, Jesus, no, baby. I'm on fire."

"I want you to see only me. Can't stand it when you see those other women." I'm leaning into him, still kneeling, and I watch as his brow furrows in his effort to work out what I'm talking about. Well, I never said that I was logical, did I?

"What other women?" His voice sounds hoarse. He's rolling his head from side to side. "You're all I've been able to see since the night you first kissed me."

"Jackie." I say tersely, sucking the head of his cock in the kind of way that I figure will have him trembling on the brink, but not quite able to come. "She doesn't get you. You're mine. Only mine."

"Yes." He's frightfully quick to agree. Anyone would think he was in a hurry or something. I wait, grinning around the delicious brown-pink of his cocksicle. "Only yours," he gasps. "And you are only mine. Touch me again baby. Light me up."

I'm watching him, my heart fluttering as though it's a bird trapped inside me. I know what he wants, and I have to try. This is another first, and I wouldn't have believed I'd ever do it, but right now, I want to. I need to, for him. "Turn around, Vic."

"Okay." He turns at my bidding, unsure where I'm coming from, and then he tenses and whimpers as I gently bite an asscheek. He's still not sure what I'm doing, but then I spread his cheeks apart and I think that he gets the picture.

"Mac, what are you...?" Just wait a minute, baby. I'll have you incoherent. I breathe on his asshole, and then lean to lick, delicately, sampling the taste of him. He's delectable, like that nectarine, making me want to lick and suck, and bite. "Oh, baby." He gives a shuddering groan. "You don't...you don't have to... Oh, fuck...you don't have to do this."

Of course I don't, but I want to. I don't answer. I'm groaning myself now, and I push in with my tongue to taste him, stabbing it into him over and over. I'm shivering with lust at the sound of his sharp, high-pitched gasp. He cries out "Oh my God." And then pitches forward to brace himself against the wall. I can feel the trembling n his legs. "Jesus, Mac...so fucking good."

Funny, I would have wrinkled my nose up at the idea of this, but it's really turning me on to listen to him moan, and feel how worked up he is. Little gasps and whimpers of my own rise up and I sense him move to stroke his cock. No, dammit! That's mine too. I knock his hand away and take hold of it myself, stroking it gently. I know that I'm driving him crazy, and I just want to drag it out until he begs.

He's trapped between my hand and my mouth, panting hard as he tells me how amazing I am. I can never hear enough of that. When I finally lean back to draw breath, I'm panting too.

"I need..." I don't know what I'm trying to say. "I really need you."

Fortunately, he does. "Yeah." He undresses quickly and then turns around and starts to take off my clothes. I'm wild eyed, gasping for breath. I'm hanging by a thread as Vic tentatively leans in to kiss me. Maybe he thinks that I'm gonna be disgusted or something. I'm totally gone. Nothing that happens is going to disgust me. Men are pigs. Just ask LiAnn. At this moment I can only think of one thing, and it isn't gonna be gentle. I grab Vic most ungently, and crush his tender mouth under my own, feeling almost vicious in my need to own him.

"Need you, Vic. Need you now."

Victor kisses me back fiercely, hungry for the rough contact. He's doing things to my nipples that's sending fire down into my groin, and he's smiling again.

"What do I always tell you, baby? "

"I don't..." I gasp. "Dunno..."

He grabs my hair and forces me to look at him. "Take what's yours." I'm numb again as I have second thoughts. I'm gonna fuck it up, and he'll hate me. "Take me," he says again, and his voice is soft sparkles of lust as he pleads.

Fuck! How can I? "You mean?" I'm scared. "You want me to...?"

He sinks down to his knees, presenting himself to me. "Yeah," he growls. Then he turns around and starts to undress me.

"Oh, God, Vic." He's getting his own back. He's tormenting me as he gets the rest of my clothes off. I shake my head, trying to clear it, get some sense back. That's no easy task while he's playing with my cock after stripping off the tacky old jeans I've been wearing.

"I want this, Mac. I want you so deep inside me it's gonna take a fucking crowbar to get us apart again. I want to limp and eat standing up for a week because of you; but most of all I want you to know how it feels when you first realize that I'm carrying a piece of you around inside me. There's nothing else like it in the world, baby, nothing." His words fire neurons inside me and I'm there, right on the edge. He can always talk me up with that voice of his, but tonight is something else completely.

I'm almost there. Don't think that I have any reserves at all. I gently disengage Vic's hands from my cock.

"Please, Mac? Please? I need you so bad." How could I say no? He's all I've ever wanted, but still I'm afraid.

"I don't want to hurt you." I'm spitting on my hand as I speak; intent on trying to moisten the way so that I don't tear him or something.

"You can't," he says. Rash baby! Of course I could. That's one of the things that scares me. There's one that scares me more though

"What if..." My voice cracks. I try again. "What if I can't..."

"What, baby?" Go on. Make me say it. Bastard! I move behind Vic to kneel next to him, and then I just blurt it out, the thing that worries me most.

"What if I come. I'm gonna come, I know it." I'm willing him not to laugh at me. If he laughs, I'll just die. I know it.

Vic shudders as he feels me groping his ass, trying to find his entrance, and failing miserably because my hands are shaking so hard. "It's okay, baby, but you won't." Then he gives me a speculative look from beneath those lashes of his. I hold my breath, wondering what's coming next. "If you'd rather have help," he says, a little tentatively, and I wonder what he means.

I'm shivering again as I try to find the spot with my cock instead of my hands. "Help?" I ask.

He seems a little hesitant, but suddenly makes his suggestion. "If you put on a cock-ring, you won't come until you take it off. Then you don't have to worry." He says it fast, as though it embarrasses him. I think for a minute. Do you suppose...?

"You... you have one?" I ask, and he nods, solemnly. "Do it, baby. Please."

"Baby? Are you sure?" I nod, trying to get the voice to start again. Funny how it fades out when I need it most. I clear my throat.

"Please." It's a little hoarse, but it's intelligible, thank goodness. "I want to make it good for you. Hurry." I watch him reach for his jacket, and I'm fascinated. He brought this with him. He must have known. He must be psychic. Or maybe he never leaves home without it. Either way, I'm impressed.

"It will be good, no matter what," he says as he pulls it out of his pocket and holds it up for me to look at. It doesn't look much. It could be a hair tie. Maybe it is a hair tie. I look at Vic's short, well-behaved do, and shake my head. Oh, well. He carries a cockring in his pocket. What of it?

Still, I'm a little dubious. Is this thing gonna cut off my circulation? What happens I can't get it off again?

"Shit!" I say, looking at it. "Will that make my balls drop off?"

That makes him chuckle, but how the hell would I know? I never worked for Vice, did I? He ruffles my hair and shows me again. "No, baby. It'll just keep you together for a while. Watch. It's a simple strap. You put it on like this, and then, when you're ready, all you have to do is unsnap it, like this." His hands are suiting the action to the word, and he puts it onto himself, and then removes it just as I'm tempted to go down on him. His cock looked really fine all scrunched up like that, waiting for me. "Okay?" He tenders it to me.

"Y-yeah. I got it." I take the thing between finger and thumb and kneel there, looking helpless. He moves behind me and nuzzles into my neck, kissing me a little as he puts me out of my misery.

"You want some help with this, Malcolm?" He helps me get it onto my dick, and then lubes me up. It feels so shivery wonderful I almost die.

"Oh, love, please." I'm ready. I'm more than ready. I could drill holes in the wall if I tried. "Come here, lover. I need you bad." I nearly die when he comes and kneels in front of me with his head bowed and his ass in the air. He's submitting to me. Oh, baby! I position myself. I'm running on instinct here. If I think too much I'll blow it. I don't want to blow it. I pull him back against me, hot flesh to hot flesh, and hear him gasp.

"Oh, that's good, baby," he whispers at me as I find the place and press my cock into him. He's so open. I slide into him, deeper than I intended as he pushes back against me. It makes me scream. Suddenly I find myself buried inside him, up to the hilt. It's like oiled velvet that pulses against my dick, flickering rivulets of sensation licking at me as I try to hold it all in. I don't know if this cockring will work. I take deep breaths and try to get myself together, pressing on Victor's shoulder to make him stay still.

"My God, Vic, you're so hot." I'm holding onto him so tightly that I think he may get bruises, but I can't stop. I can't let go and relax. I'm pushing in, in trying to get deeper. "I want... I want to climb inside you for the rest of my life."

Victor moans loudly, pushing back hard against me, and suddenly I can do this. I have to do it. I can't stop. I hear his voice, rusted and soulful, crying my name, "Mac...Mac..."

"Fuck, Victor... I love you so much. So goddam much."

"Love...love you...too...want to be yours...rest of my life... take me, baby...please," and when I hear that, I have to fuck him. I can't stay still. I have to move, pull myself out and thrust home, and again, and again, feeling the build up of tension. "Fuck me," he moans, and I do. I fuck him until his teeth rattle. He's heat, and love, and sweet, silken pleasure running along my spine, bursting through my cock and making my head swim.

He's moaning now, half in pleasure and half in pain. "Yes...yes... deeper, harder...I need it... need you." His cries blow me away. I grip him tightly, one arm around his chest, and reach down to fist his cock as I fuck him. I'm pulling it, stroking it harder and harder. "Faster...don't stop."

I'm hurting him, I must be, but I can't stop.

"Come on, Vic, give it to me. I need it." I yank on his cock, stroking it savagely. I hear him cry out, and know that it's coming. He's strung tight as a bow, and his face, oh, God, his face! I love him. I have to tell him how much I love him.

"Come for me, Vic. I love you." There are trickles of moisture running from the corners of his eyes. I lick tentatively, and know that they are tears. I'm hurting him. I must be hurting him. I kiss him, mashing my mouth against his and then feel the pulse and know that he's coming, right now, for me.

Victor suddenly yells, "Mac, take it off...take it off now!" and for a second I'm not sure what he means., then it filters through my sluggish, lust-dazed brain exactly what Vic is talking about. I reach down between us to fumble with the cockring, slipping it free and almost instantly feel the tide rushing up into my balls, along my thighs, prickling, tingling through my cock. His own is erupting, spurt after spurt of slick, viscous white that coats my hand and sprays the floor alongside the bed. He screams. I echo it with a scream of my own.

All I can do is say Vic's name over and over, delicious agony as I let go and pour myself into him at last, feeling the sucking heat of him as he takes all I have to give him. Slowly we subside, slipping down to the floor to lie, still joined, and him still inside the circle of my arms, there to lie gasping out nonsense as we recover.

I hear him then. He's sobbing, and I want to die. I've hurt him. What if it's a permanent injury? I love him so much I can't bear for him to be in pain. I stroke his side in an attempt to calm him, soothe him, but he continues, great, wracking sobs that don't seem to lessen as I murmur his name repeatedly.

At last I find words to say. "Don't... Don't cry, lover. What? Did I hurt you?"

Victor smiles shakily. "No, baby. I told you that you couldn't" I'm baffled. I'm truly afraid. Maybe he's reconsidered. Maybe he doesn’t want me any more and this is it. I'm scared to ask, but in the end I summon up the courage.

"Please tell me what's wrong." I trace a tear down his face, lapping it from the end of my finger as it reaches his chin.

"It's never been like that...ever. I've never felt the way you make me feel." I feel him shaking, and hold him tightly as he huddles into me. I know how to answer this. It's the way I've been feeling. I know the fear. I know the love and the uncertainty. The only thing that baffles me is that it's Victor Mansfield, and that he's the one shedding tears for me. I don't deserve him. I kiss him, and then bury my face in his neck.

"Nobody else but you, Vic. Only you..."

Victor turns to me, and we lose intimate contact at last as my dick reverts to its lax and floppy self once more. "Hold me." Oh, yeah, Victor, like I was in danger of letting you go! "Hold me tight, Mac... I'm gonna fall apart if you don't."

We can't have that, can we? In the interests of keeping Vic from falling apart I crush him against me, and listen while the words spill out of him.

"Love you, baby, so much. I knew that night in the truck." I squeeze him to me, and he gasps, wheezing a little at the pressure of my arms around him. "It scares me to want you this much... to need you this much." My face is buried in between his neck and his shoulder, and I feel like shedding a few tears myself, but being the stalwart type that I am, I preserve my cool exterior, and merely sniff a couple of times as he holds me equally tight.

"I love you too. I know how you feel. It's like we were torn apart from the same person, and we'll never get back the way we were." I don't know if he'll understand me, but that's the only way I can put it. When he starts to shake with laughter I guess that he doesn't. I'm a little disappointed at that, but we're not really two people with one brain. Stupid of me to think that he'd understand.

"Guess what?"

I try to make a joke out of it, not let him see that I'm hurt. "What? You laugh? But you, my fine sir will laugh no more... Not when I put you in my cage." I swoop in to bite him on the chin and give a low, evil hokey laugh.

He stills me, one hand to my cheek, and gazes into my eyes again, love in his, and something more. "Maybe not, but you will when you hear this."

I look at him, interested now as I wonder what he's thinking. "What?"

"I'm your bitch." My stomach does a flip-flop. My heart beats a sharp tattoo, and I have no words to say in answer. It's official, Mac Ramsey, struck dumb by Victor Mansfield. I'm totally frozen for a minute or two, and then I start to laugh.

"Oh... fuck!"

"Bastard!" he gets out between paroxysms of mirth. "Thirty-seven years and you come along and do this to me." I clutch him to me and laugh, and laugh.

"Oh, yeah, baby, but I'm your bastard. Just try and get rid of me now." His lips find mine, and for a minute I can't say anything. My mouth is full. As soon as he lets me go I have to say it as I look at his luscious, kiss-swollen lips. "God, Vic, I thought that you were at least 65." I know, once a smart-ass, always a smart-ass. He tries half-heartedly to fight me off. Not a chance!

"Fucking brat, you know it?" Harsh words, but he's grinning, and I'm grinning too as we hold each other tightly. I turn him in my arms, and sit so that we can both lean back against the end of the bed... the bed that we didn't use. I settle him against my shoulder and whisper into the sleek cap of chestnut hair.

"I know that I love you." I see him open his mouth to speak, and add, "And that you're a sleazy pervert. What makes you carry this thing around with you just on spec?" I grope for his cockring and dangle it in front of him after giving him a gentle tap across the back of the head.

"Hey, I am *not* sleazy, thank you very much, and what have I been telling you all this time?"

"Uh... what?" I'm not with him.

"That I have..." and then I know. I say it with him as he chants, "Hidden depths."

"I think I just hit the bottom of them." I say, fervently. God, Vic, I never felt anything quite so amazing as you, wrapped around my dick, squeezing the last ounce of pleasure out of me.

"And I don't usually carry one," he says.

"Oh yeah?" It just so happened that you were going out to work so you popped it into your pocket? Pull the other one, my gorgeous reprobate. You're sick, and I love you.

"But you." He seems to choke up for a second or two, then he smiles again. "You do things to me. I don't even know what made me grab it. I haven't been like this since I worked Vice." I smile down at him. Victor, it doesn't matter, just don't ever leave me.

"Oh yeah, right, blame me." I whine. "Blame poor innocent Mac." I do things to him. That's nice. "I do?" I wonder what things they would be. If they are anything like the things he does to me he's so fucking lucky!

"Don't be sorry, baby." And now his voice is soulful. I can hear a thousand regrets lurking there behind his words. "I didn't know how much I missed that person until you showed me he was gone."

I do believe that I'm shocked all over again. "Vice? Is this what you used to get up to in Vice? Who is this man, and what has he done with my straight-down-the-middle, by-the-book partner? "I thought that you were as straight as a die."

"No, this is not what I used to get up to in Vice, but I was wild. I loved life back then, and I was very good at my job." He's re-living a time that meant a lot to him. I hold him to me and kiss his hair. I want so much for him to be at peace.

"Gotta know it before you can trap it, baby?" I ask him, but I don't mean to be snarky. I love him too much. I just don't know how to let him know.

"Something like that." He's still somewhere else, in another space and time. I kiss his face, then I notice the time.

"Oh, good grief. Do you suppose we need to go back downstairs?" I don't want to. I want to stay here forever, holding him. I know that real life will intervene as soon as I go out that door. He takes my face in his hands and turns me to look at him. I know that he's serious now, and I wait.

"Mac, you need to know. I was never stupid." I know, baby. I know it because you wouldn't be my Victor if you were. Still, I need to wind him up a little. It's in my job description.

"But you used to carry a cockring in your pocket just in case."

Well, fuck me! He blushed. Just like that, he turned the color of beets. "I never got involved that way," he protests. I take his face between my two hands and hold it steady, while I search his eyes. "Maybe. Maybe not. I don't care, but now, you are mine, and you aren't ever, ever gonna look at anyone else the way that you look at me. Hear me?"

"I knew myself, what I was capable of, but I never slept around with a lot of people, and I was always safe."

Oh, Lord. That's what he's worried about. He thinks that I have some kind of VD, or worse. I never thought he'd lay that kind of thing on me. I tense up, and say very carefully, "Fuck, baby, that's something that didn't even occur to me." He grins, and kisses the tip of my nose, and I think that perhaps I misread him. Maybe he didn't mean that at all. Maybe he was trying to tell me that he was clean. I relax, and he rubs my shoulder.

"My thoughts exactly."

"I wanted you so badly." I still do. Will it ever end?

"I know." He strokes my face, and I lean over him, dusting his skin with butterfly kisses, little kisses that pepper his face, his neck, his hair. "I know it may seem like I'm really wild, but you're the first person I've been this uninhibited with." I see that blush of his rise up once more to stain his cheeks. I love it.

"Just as long as you never stop," I say, and there's the voice again, tickling the inside of my ears with its sexy rumble.

"Never, baby."

I kiss him again then, deep, luscious kisses that curl my toes and make me gasp and tingle all over. I won't ever get tired of him.

"Think that maybe we should go back to work?" I say, hoping he'll say 'no, stay,' but of course he doesn't. He slips out of my arms at last to reach for his clothing.

"Yeah, I think we need to," he sighs.

I struggle to my feet myself, hearing my knees crack loudly. "Grief, I'm getting so old," I say in an attempt to make a joke. We grin at each other.

"Jackie and LiAnn are probably..." He stops, and his voice is suddenly still. It's weird. Not like him. I look up at him.

"What? Probably what?" I'm not really paying much attention to him to be sure. I was utterly convinced that I was wearing two boots when I came in here, and now there's only one of the bloody things. What the hell has happened to the other? I'm still grumbling when he points towards the doorway. I turn to look, following his finger.

My eyes open wide, and my jaw hits my chest. "Oh, fuck."

"That just about sums it up." He's white. There in the doorway, round-eyed and glassy are the two women we believed to be downstairs, grooving to the beat and all of that sort of stuff. They aren't downstairs at all, they're right here with us, and they look as though they've been with us throughout all of our recent exertions. Jackie looks like she was just given a math term-paper to write. She's dazed and confused in the way that only she knows how. Of course she speaks. When did she ever stay silent?

"You guys are so.... like, so..."

I'm fucking furious. I don't have time to waste on her. She's seen it before. No doubt she'll find a way to see it again. I snarl at her. "Go on, say it."

"...*Totally* hot," she blathers, happily. Well, whoop-tee-do! I'm sure I'll sleep better tonight knowing that Jackie Janczyk, queen of the mob, finds me totally hot when I'm fucking my lover.

Victor's looking worriedly at her companion. She's not about to gush, and part of me wants to slap her for causing my Vic such pain. He shifts uneasily. "LiAnn?"

LiAnn just stands there and says nothing.

I try. I take a step forward, willing the connection. "LiAnn?"

Victor's pinking up. He's hurting. I know that look. "LiAnn please."

"Come on, girl," I say, half an eye for her, and half for my lover who's having a bad time of it. "Let's talk about this. We need to, you know we do."

LiAnn shakes her head. "You two are fine without me." Well fuck her! That's not what this is about. This is about keeping the team together. This is about not breaking Vic's heart. Will you just unbend for once in your spoiled life, LiAnn? The bitch that she is, she turns to go, and I see Vic move as if to start after her, and then, realizing that he's naked, subside, grit his teeth and reach for his underwear.

"No! Wait," he calls, hoarsely, struggling into his clothing.

LiAnn turns back to face him, ignoring me. "What?" she asks, as if expecting to tell a stranger the time of day or something. I want to take her by the shoulders and shake her out of her sullen fit. She's compromising the team. She shouldn't be acting like this, damn her.

"LiAnn... this..." he doesn't finish. I get the feeling that he's giving up. He looks at me in frustration. I open my mouth to say something. I don't know what, but when did that ever stop me in the past? I stop short because she's speaking to me, to us.

"Vic, you don't need me. You and Mac... You're fine." Her eyes are shiny wet but she won't weaken. She'll hug her anger to her and begin a vendetta. I know her.

"LiAnn," Vic is still trying. "This has nothing to do with us not caring about you." She flares up at that, coloring, and snapping at him.

"Victor, did I say that it did?" Bitch! Double-dyed , first class, queen of bitches. You've been taking lessons from the boss woman, haven't you?

"You just...you made your choice a long time ago, I think." Vic is trying to reach her, and I love him for it, but he won't do it. I know her, and she's made up her mind to sulk. We need to give it a week, and ask the Director not to send her out with us until she comes around.

"Oh? And just what do you think my choice was?" Come on, woman, give! The last time you made a choice, you saved Vic's life for him. Choose equally well now.

"To be independent." He's earnest, brow furrowed in thought as he makes a connection with her. "Not to be tied down to one man." I see her nod at that, and I want to cheer. I can't stop myself from pitching in and adding my own two cents worth.

"He's right, LiAnn. And you know what? I've made mine too. I want to be tied down to him." I walk over to kiss my man, a little peck on the shoulder that stands for all the love I want to give him. Grabbing hold of my jeans and my T-shirt, I finish getting dressed.

"Neither one of us was what you needed, LiAnn." Vic is back on the air, and he's so full of distress and confusion that I want to hold him, soothe him. He's always been hurt by her behavior. "But that doesn't mean that we don't still love you, just not the way we used to."

She stands still, looking at us, hugging herself as she does. "I don't know. I just feel alone. Everyone has someone... Except for me."

That makes him pause, and a look of compassion crosses Victor's face. I want to warn him about that. If she thinks that he pities her, she'll hate him. "Sweetheart, I don't know what to tell you. I do know we need you to be our friend... and our partner. That hasn't changed."

She nods, which makes me feel a little better and then turns to go down the stairs.

Jackie calls after her, "Hey, LiAnn? Wait up."

I call her back too. "LiAnn. I need you on our side. Okay?" Jackie turns back towards me then.

"Well of course she's on your side. I mean, like what do you expect? Like you think she's gonna be wearing black or something?" She gives LiAnn a smile and pats her on the shoulder in a gesture that I don't usually see from her. LiAnn is a little shocked too. Leastways, she doesn't take Jackie's hand off at the wrist.

Then the two women go down the stairs together. We just stand still, gaping after them. Then we turn to each other and gape a little more. Soon, we have the whole routine down to perfection. If you need anyone to gape for you, look no further, we're both good at it.

Victor finally puts it into words. "What the hell was that?"

"I think that was a demonstration of feminist solidarity." I sigh, theatrically at him. "It's a jungle out there, Vic."

He sighs right back at me. "Tell me about it." I watch him wriggle into his pants. It's an inspiring sight and I purse my lips as I eye him lewdly, then I waggle my eyebrows at him suggestively.

"Wanna play Tarzan?"

He chuckles and I'm so glad. I made him laugh. I cheered him up. Maybe things will work out for us. If they don't, it won't be though lack of effort on my part. Vic Mansfield, making you happy is my special care.

"As long as I get to wear the loincloth...later," he grins. "Right now, we really need to get back to work or our asses are both grass." I wish you hadn't said that, lover, but seeing as you did, I suppose that we should go do some work.

"Damn," I frown. "I guess you're right. Come on then. You still have to have that dance with me." Here's a sock... I extend it to him, and he takes it from my fingers, stooping to put it on before the penny drops and he practically explodes.

"What?" He does a wonderful line in pseudo-outrage. "I already did dance with you. That's how all this started." He attempts to look severe, but his mask slips and within a matter of mere seconds he's grinning at me, pink tongue sweeping his lips in a movement that's unconsciously seductive. I think that it’s unconscious anyway. Whatever! I can't keep my hands off him when he's like this. I grab him and pull him in for a kiss that rocks me.

I need this man. He's like an addiction. When he's with me, I feel amazing, astonishing, complete, and when he's not there I crave him. When I finally have to let him go I hold him steady so that I can look into those eyes of his again and see the lights dance for me. "But I think," he adds, "That I could be persuaded."

"To dance?" I murmur, reluctantly pulling closed the zipper of his jacket, and running my fingers over the supple skin of it. I prefer the supple skin that lies beneath it, but we really will be in the shit if we don't get downstairs in the next few minutes.

"Yeah," he says, smiling wickedly from under thick, black lashes that are just plain sinful. "And so many other things."

We have to go back to work. So why am I standing here, running my hands over him all over again, working up a severe case of desperate lust. Stop being so fucking seductive. On second thoughts, don't. I just have to learn to handle it, don't I? I look him up and down again. Long, sleek legs, slim hips, sturdy, solid chest and shoulders, face of a fallen angel. Oh, yeah, I can resist that any time. Any time.

"If you weren't such an affront to public decency, I'd be able to keep my hands off you for a few minutes," I say in exasperation.

That gets to him. The eyes flash green fire as he looks me up and down. "Me? What the hell do you expect, when you show up looking like that?" He strokes the fabric of my top, and I think he likes it. There's a certain look on his face that indicates to me that he gets off on me looking like rough trade. Got news for you, sweetheart, I like you any way I can get you, but the leather look is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I may never let you wear anything else ever again.

"I can see every line of your body like that." But it's not a problem, okay? I step back while he puts on his boots, and then when he stands up again, I lean forward one last time to nip at his ear lobe and run my tongue the length of his jaw. "And I love leather." I whisper, hotly.

At last we leave the room behind. I don't want to. I've got this awful feeling of impending doom that won't let me shake it, but I'm first down the stairs anyway, and fuck me if it isn't Jackie the flake waiting to grip hold of my arm in a manner that will leave dents. I try to pull away, but then look at her face. I mean I really look at it, and she's worried, I can see that. Shit! Now what?

I'm not prepared for what she says to me.

"It's about freaking time. Where's LiAnn?"

I look around the room as though I think I'm going to spot her. She's not there of course. Oh, well, I tried. "I don't know," I say - yell actually, the music is very loud. "She came down with you. Why? What happened?"

She leans up on her tiptoes to yell in my ear, and I find myself being assaulted by the Janczyk frontage. It's firm and soft and feels really pleasant, but it's not what I'm looking for. I lean down, partly so that I can hear her, and partly to escape the attack of the mutant cleavage. "We came down. She said she had to use the bathroom, and I haven't seen her since." I look at Vic. He's looking grim, and so is Jackie. "I got worried when she didn't come out. She's not in there."

"How long," I hear Vic say.

"Ten minutes," replies Jackie. My heart stops and I feel cold inside. She's done something totally stupid. That's my department, goddammit. We've got a predator on the loose, and she's done something to get herself separated from the herd. Fuck!

Victor takes control when I can only gasp and look scared. He sends us scattering, Jackie to check all the stalls in the bathroom to make sure she didn't just get sick or something, me to ask the people around by where she was sitting, and he to go do something. I watch, and he heads off towards that cute barman I noticed earlier. They seem to be deep in conversation. I'm just starting to ask people if they've seen her, when Jackie joins me. One woman thinks that she saw LiAnn go outside and guessed that it was for fresh air, but otherwise nothing.

Vic comes back to us. "Jason says that she might have gone out back." He turns without saying more, and we follow. What else can we do?

"Jason? Friend of yours?" I ask Victor, as though it really matters. He sighs and looks at me with a peculiar, lost, haunted expression on his face, and it makes me wonder just what kind of friends my lover had before he and I hooked up together. They didn't always make him happy, that's for goddam sure.

"Yeah, and I'll tell you later, Okay?" He looks... somehow incomplete, as though he's waiting for me to hit him, although why, I can't imagine. "We gotta find LiAnn first."

That's true. That's truer than true, but I want to know who hurt my Victor, and I won't forget this. We arrive at the door and Vic gives it a shove. We all spill out into the quiet, empty alleyway that is the back of the Underground. There's nothing here. Nobody but the three of us is in sight. I feel as though I'm going to choke, and Vic looks devastated. Even Jackie looks concerned.

He takes a deep breath, and screams LiAnn's name once, and then a second time, louder than the first. We wait, but not even an echo replies. It was a long shot. Didn't expect her to come jogging around the corner saying that she'd just nipped out to buy herself a Sno-cone or something. If it had been Jackie, yeah, maybe, but LiAnn? No chance of that happening. The woman never craves anything. I think that she's the most self-contained person I ever met.

I'm kicking around the place, heading towards the Dumpster to check inside it - not that I expect to see her lifeless remains in there, you understand, but I have to check it anyway. My eye is caught by something shiny that dangles from a broken hinge, and all of a sudden I want to scream. It's the bracelet that I gave her when she was 12. She's never taken that off. Never since I gave it to her. She told me once that it was her luck - her luck that I'm standing here holding in my hand.

LiAnn's luck ran out. God help me.

"Victor." I show him. He won't have a clue what I mean, but I show him anyway. How could I have been upstairs, fucking around when my friend - my sister, dammit - needed me. I'll never do it again. I promise. I'll never sleep with Vic again if that's what it takes to get her back. I promise. I'll be so good. Please, please....

Vic's speaking, asking where we found it, and his words sound like so much sand running through the timer.

Jackie answers him quietly, telling him where we found it. I don't listen. I'm in a fog. Her last words suddenly stab me like knives.

"...And it looks like there might be some blood, too."

I stand still. I might as well be alone. I feel remote, cushioned from anything but the dreadful, tearing pain of my missing sister. Blood. The word reverberates inside me. LiAnn's blood. This is all my fault. I'm the one that insisted on fucking about with Vic when I should have been working, keeping an eye on my LiAnn. Vic reaches out for me and I step back.

No. Don't touch me. I don't want you near me. It was better when I didn't love anyone because then I couldn't feel like this. If I hadn't wanted you, LiAnn would still be next to me now. Don't ever touch me again. I can't do this. I watch as the lights in his eyes go out.

Turning wordlessly, I head back into the club, knowing that I just confirmed for myself that it is not Mac Ramsey's destiny to be happy.

4: Barrel of a Gun

Open ...An unbearable pain
A beating in my brain
That leaves the mark of Cain
Right here inside

What am I supposed to do
When everything that I've done
Is leading me to conclude
I'm not the one

Whatever I've done
I've been staring down the barrel of a gun

Is there something you need from me
Are you having your fun
I never agreed to be
Your holy one

Whatever I've done
I've been staring down the barrel of a gun

Barrel Of A Gun-Depeche Mode, ULTRA/1997.

The world seems to have become silent as I turn away and leave him in the alleyway on his knees.

What the hell have I been thinking? I broke the cardinal rule, didn't I? Never get involved. Never care. Never, never, never fall in love. Well, fuck! I've sure screwed things up there, haven't I?

I push my way into the club, and the warm cocoon of distant sound, distant pounding music in my head while the bodies gyrate, sweat-slick and diseased, somehow still bound to the beat in a way that I'm not and don't think I can ever be again.

It hurts! God, it hurts. I want him so much even now, but best not go there.

Jackie whips out her cell phone before Victor is even out of sight and hits the speed dial. "I'm sorry...We've got a situation...LiAnn was taken from behind The Underground about 15 minutes ago."

She takes a deep breath as she listens to the instructions.

"We can't follow. Something happened and we missed the snatch," she winces and holds the squawking device away from her ear until it's quiet again. "I can't explain it right now, I have to get back to Mac; but Victor is on his way in."

She hesitates a moment, then takes the plunge.

"Di, you need to know...Mac called it quits with Vic...I know...but they're both bugged out about LiAnn. Please, be gentle with him. I think he might be more than a little freaked right now, maybe even suicidal," she shudders at the memory of the look on Victor's face as Mac walked away from him and the subsequent breakdown she's just been witness to. "Please, just...think about it before you lay into him, 'kay?"

She hangs up before the Director can answer and follows Mac back inside.

I shove my way to the bar, and the blond that was making faces at me before saunters over to me. I slam cash down and demand a scotch - a double. He frowns at me, pouring my drink and sliding it over the bar with a flourish. Every movement he makes screams 'pansy.'

"Is everything all right?" Well fuck. Why wouldn't it be? I nod curtly, down my drink and give him the glass. Come on. More. It's never going to be enough.

He gives me a refill, and then gets called to another part of the bar. I'm grateful for that. When the girl with the multiple piercings and the black lips comes to serve me my next shot, it means that there are no questions.

Jackie appears at my elbow somewhere down the line and tries to make me go with her. I turn to tell her to go away but the words get tangled on my tongue and they come out slurred and stupid sounding. Finally, I manage to get them spoken.

"Jus' le'me 'lone." My drink is gone again, and I look around for the bartender. I need more. It still hurts. He shakes his head.

"You've had enough, bud. Go tell Vic that I need to see him." I see red then. It feels as though there's absolutely nothing in the whole universe that's strong enough to contain my rage as it swells and swells, finally bursting out of me in a flood that has me screaming, turning over the stools at the bar, sweeping the glasses and bottles from it, and then...

Sharp pain as Jackie forces my arms behind my back. Words are spoken as she hustles me out but I don't process them. I'm howling my fury to the world - incoherent and anguished as she makes me go where she wants. I wrest free momentarily and lurch away from her and the doorframe somehow seems to loom up before my bleary eyes.

No pain, just a bloom of white light and then nothing.

Nothing ever again, please, God.

When Victor pulls up in front of HQ, he doesn't look surprised to find me waiting for him. He looks like he doesn't care either. I know that look in his eyes. He's cold and empty inside right now, hollow and unafraid. This is the way he looked when I first met him in jail. There is nothing more I can do to him that hasn't already been done in a thousand more painful ways tonight.

He withstands my sharp scrutiny for a patient moment before speaking.

"You've heard." He waits for my nod, but cuts me off before I would have started in with any recriminations. "I need to see the files for the other victims-all of them. And I need Nathan to help me; time's running out."

With that, he walks away from me into the building without so much as a glance back; leaving me gaping unattractively at his back in shock for a moment before following him. Suicidal, indeed. I'm not sure I like this side of my most dependable and volatile agent.

When I reach the archives, I find Vic looking around expectantly, but not finding the person he seeks. Luckily, I had the files in question in my office when Jackie called. I lay them down before him and settle myself on the opposite side of the table.

"Even Nathan has to have time off, Victor. You need a research assistant, I'm it," I chuckle grimly at the slightly cocked eyebrow he shoots me. Even at a time like a time like this, it's nice to be able to keep him on his toes. "I used to be an agent once myself, Victor," is all the explanation I will give, and it seems to be enough for him.

He digs into the files with an intensity that is frightening to behold. Parker had warned me, of course, back when I first had an eye to recruiting him; however, the reality of Victor in profiling mode is a shock. He does have a gift for it, that's certain; but it's obvious that it's eating him up inside, devouring him alive with every gruesome photograph he looks at. I watch as he methodically notes every last bit of minutiae in the attempt to find a pattern: height, weight, sex, date missing, date returned, bruises, broken bones, internal and external injuries and other seemingly meaningless bits of flotsam and jetsam.

I leave him in Dobrinsky's care when Jackie finally hauls Mac's sorry butt in--bruised, battered, intoxicated, and totally wild-eyed as he skates on the edge of total breakdown. It's obvious that in his condition, Mac is too far gone to appreciate the kind of reaming I want to give him, so I have Jackie take him home to sleep it off.

Damn. What a huge fucking mess. In the beginning, I had to keep them from killing each other over LiAnn; now I have to keep them from self-destructing over each other or I'm going to be building an Alpha Team all over again. This, of course is completely out of the question. I like the one I have, thank you very much. They are exactly the way I want them. Or at least they were until now.

There are times, few and very far in-between, when I absolutely hate my job, and this is definitely one of them.

I corner Jackie at the first opportunity and drag the whole sordid story out of her. Of course, Jackie swears that Vic and Mac had only done what they did to try and draw the perp out; but I know better. The boys have barely been able to keep their hands off each other during work since their relationship started, and going undercover on this particular assignment was just the kind of thing that would have set them both off. I can just hear their reasoning on this one --if they could excuse it as being in the line of duty, so much the better.

I'm not particularly surprised or angry to find out that it did set them off, because I know that neither of them is truly foolish enough to blow off duty entirely; and if anybody can slack on the job and still bring in the perp, it's my boys. Besides, they know the consequences of not doing their job well enough. It was one of the reasons I'd sent them into this--a sort of test to see just how well they could work together now that the group dynamic had changed. And together, the boys are still the boys-kicking ass, taking names and creating havoc in their wake, exactly the way they're supposed to. If anything, it's LiAnn that's reacted badly to the whole situation. She threw major tantrums when she discovered that her ex-lovers were no longer playing her game by her rules.

It was a dangerous gamble I took, and one I bear the full brunt of the blame for. I hadn't wanted to send LiAnn on this mission, especially after the younger woman barged into my office demanding to know how long I'd known about the relationship between her ex's. However, with Victor and Mac being so hostile toward Jackie, it was unavoidable. I also must admit that I never expected the child to be this foolish.

What's even more surprising is the fact that Jackie is protecting the boys despite their animosity towards her. She has willingly done everything I've asked of her so far without complaint or backtalk, and for that I'm grateful. I also appreciate the irony involved. By her actions, Ms. Janczyk has shown herself to be more loyal to both of them than the cold, flighty and manipulative LiAnn and she certainly deserves better treatment from that quarter.

Curiouser and curiouser.

I know why she's doing it, of course. Jackie's gone and gotten herself a serious case of the lusts after witnessing her senior partners' consummation of their relationship. Who could blame her? I've already worn out one copy of that particular tape and am slowly working my way through a second. However, the really astonishing thing is just on whom Jackie has subtly chosen to turn all that pent-up sensuality. Not Victor or Mac, although heaven knows she wouldn't pass up the chance to bed one or both of them quite happily should the opportunity come her way. She's a woman after my own twisted heart.

No, true to form, the teen-aged mob queen seems to have chosen the hardest one upon which to bestow her attentions. She's gone for the one whom she stands the least chance of getting. She's picked LiAnn. If the other woman survives this ordeal she's stupidly thrown herself into, she won't have a chance.

I think back over what Jackie told me LiAnn said about being alone. What a fool she is; a fool that's made two of my best agents virtually useless with her petty jealousy. I can only hope that my protégée lives long enough to let me render a long-overdue and well-deserved discipline session. Heaven knows I should have called her on her irrational and possessive behavior a long time ago. There is something about the way she chooses to interact with Victor and Mac that is disturbing to me, and has been niggling at my brain since the death of Michael Tang. Once this foolishness is over, I plan on finding out what that something is.

I don't feel good. It feels as though my mouth is full of sand, and my head... God! My head. There's a light shining in my eyes, and I roll my head to try and avoid it, but the explosion of pain that results from the move is so intense that I moan.

The voice oozes oily over me, hated, feared and resented.

"Well, you're a sorry piece of work, aren't you?" I don't need to open my eyes to know that the Marquesa de Sade is here again, toying with me as though I were an unwary fledgling she's caught and with whom she wants to play.

"Go away." I don't care. Not this time. She can do what she likes, I'm done, finished. What's the point of any of it?

"Mr. Ramsey, I've been very patient with you and your partner for the past few weeks, but this time I'm afraid that you've made me angry. You've let your personal life interfere with your duties to me, and that I will not have."

I roll over onto my face. Her hands on me mean nothing. It all means nothing from here on in.

"Fuck off."

The carefully sensual delivery falters for just one moment. Then the real Director shows ugly claws.

"Get up, Ramsey. You'll report to me in one hour, or regret it for the rest of your very short life." There's the rustle of satin on fur, and then, mercifully, I'm alone.

I don't feel any better for being alone.

LiAnn. She's been taken. She could be dead right now, and it's my fault. I was too busy fucking a guy. I was fucking a guy, goddammit! I let her go out and be captured and now I don't deserve to live.

I stumble out of my bed, and groan again as the light bores its way through into my eyes, and it feels as though they're bleeding. No matter. I creep into the bathroom and turn the shower on cold. It helps in a way. I'm awake now, but I hurt. Every cell feels abused, and I want to go back to sleep and never wake up again.

I pull on the jeans that I was wearing last night. Bad idea! I'm awake enough now to feel like shit. The jeans are a reminder of the night before, and I rip them off again, heading to find myself a set of clothes that doesn't remind me of the things I've lost forever.

I can't believe I could let that happen. Never, never again will I allow something so base and bestial to occur, and I guess my life is over. If I hadn't been so desperate, so animal, LiAnn wouldn't be missing. Nothing I ever do in the future will be enough to make amends.

I dress by guess, old stuff that has past its best, and stagger to the kitchen to find a glass of water. Downing that seems to help my eyeballs reconstitute themselves, but I still need shades before I can dare to open my eyes against full daylight.

I'm just putting on my jacket when the phone rings. I freeze. Why can't she leave me alone? Three times the damned thing shrills, an eldritch shriek that makes my poor eyes rotate in their sockets, and I almost give in. The jackhammer behind my forehead is threatening to make a break for the surface.

I'm turning to leave when I hear his voice and stop short. Breathy and desperate, it brushes me, making the tears prick the backs of my eyes, and run to fill my sinuses. I stand in the middle of the hallway and squeeze my eyes shut. Oh, God, Victor, Victor!

"Mac? Mac, my baby, please pick up. Mac? I really, really need to talk to you." There's a pause, and I think that he's gone, but then his voice grinds into my heart again, calling to me and shredding me to fragments. "Come on, please pick up the phone." The sound skitters over my skin like a promise. It would be so easy to forget everything and go home to him. I can taste him still on my tongue, heady and desirable.

I want him, and he's something I can't have any more, don't deserve to have. Too dear for my possessing? Yeah, right. I can feel him against me. I can feel the ghost of his lips touching mine, softer than you can possibly imagine. Slick, wet silk on my mouth, tearing at my senses until I'm lost, gasping out my need for him.

No more. Never again. I'll have to get used to it. There's no way on earth that I can ever forgive myself for what I've done and so, in the end, all that there was is over, gone forever. I turn my back and walk away from his husky voice, while the tears fall, and my future echoes around me, cutting me off from my past forever.

The street's bright - far too bright. I feel my eyeballs start to shrivel and fumble for my sunglasses as I shamble along the sidewalk - a sorry figure, searching for some reason to carry on living.

I've got to get over Victor. I need him the way a junkie needs horse. My body shakes, craving the injection that only he can give me. I know that I look a spectacle as I stagger on, my heart clenched in misery as the tears flow freely. My breath catches in my chest, and I fall against the wall, pressing my hands against my eyes.

"Excuse me, are you all right?" A small, middle-aged woman is peering anxiously at me. I summon up a tremulous smile as she stands, waiting for me to do something.

"Uh, yeah, just got dirt on my contact lens. I'm okay." I scrub angrily at my eyes and stagger away.

When I get to the back of Yonge Street, a drink seems to be the most necessary thing in the world. I make my way to a bar I've been in once or twice before. I was here with Victor, I remember, long before he and I became lovers. I order a shot of Jim Beam and gulp it down, then order a pint with another whisky for a chaser, and move away from the bar to watch a couple of guys playing pool.

The drinks are going down well. The alcohol gives me a glow that forces the pain in my heart to recede to a place deep inside, where it merely aches instead of stabbing at me. After a while I find myself becoming someone else - someone who can cope with the loss and not give a flying fuck.

The bar begins to fill up slowly. People drift in as the afternoon wears by. I get into a conversation with an intense-eyed young man wearing black leather and chains. I like the leather. There's something about it that makes me feel nostalgic, as though there ought to be a memory associated with it, although by this time I can't recall quite what it might be. To be perfectly frank, I can't actually string two thoughts together sensibly.

I admit that I'm weaving a little when the man in leather asks me if I want to go home with him. I can't see any reason at all why not. I'm not really capable of coherence though, so I just grin at him and together we leave the bar.

It's almost dark as we head for the parking lot. He doesn't say anything; he just supports me as I stumble over dimly seen potholes and bumps on the path. He drives a Lexus, and it takes me a few minutes to fold myself into the seat beside him. He gives me a smile that makes me feel vaguely uneasy without being sure why, and then we're away, heading out towards Etobicoke. I think I must have dozed. When he shakes me awake I have no real idea where I am or what I'm doing, only that my head's aching fiercely and my mouth tastes as though something has died inside it.

I moan pitifully, and the man in leather gives a low laugh and holds something to my nostrils, telling me to smell it. I sniff, and suddenly I'm flying. Dark flashes explode behind my eyes as my heartbeat accelerates. Suddenly I feel great.

Everything happens in strobed tableaux after that. There's music. Music exhorts me to bow down to my master and I dance wildly. Hands are on me, and in a little while, I'm naked. They pass me a drink and I down it without bothering to check what it is. It's good stuff. My head swells and my senses swim. Suddenly I'm looking down on my sorry, naked carcass as it gyrates crazily. There's a circle of dimly seen figures around me, and first hands, then mouths move over my skin, releasing fire as they slide.

Later I know I'll look back and cringe, but at this moment I'm lost, brain spinning wildly as the booze and whatever they've fed into my system sends me into a wild, spiraling ride towards destruction. The ones around me poke and prod, stroke and suck and I can't get it up for any of them. My leather friend and his mates all use me through the course of the evening, not caring whether I consent or not. I remain numb, wrapped in anguish that lies in layers around me, cushioning me from the things that they're doing to my body.

At last they leave me, limp and hopeless. I'm covered in piss and semen, sobbing helplessly into someone's black leather jacket, and not even knowing why.

Sleep takes me. When I wake it's a dazzling bright morning that scours my eyeballs clean and flays any remaining brain tissue from the inside of my skull. My head feels as though it's going to explode.

It's snowed overnight; the first snow of the year, and now the sun spins glittering skeins of light over the trees while the wind dances and ruffles the few clouds that remain. I wasn't wearing a coat when I came, and I can't find more than a few threads of my T-shirt. A lone, vivid memory of the night before reminds me that the shirt is shredded, and gone forever. I struggle into the black leather jacket I've been clutching to me, and stagger out into the cold.

I walk aimlessly. I don't know, and don't really care where I'm going. I'm numb inside. After a while I'm no longer cold. The world is fading in and out as I stumble onwards. I have no idea where I am, and there's no goal in my head. All I want to do is run and run.

When the van pulls in alongside me, disgorging a horde of angry men, I find myself fighting for my life. I've always been able to hold my own in a fight until now, but I'm so hung over that I soon collapse, a victim of alcohol abuse and apathy. My co-ordination is shot, and although I do manage to land a couple of telling punches, pretty soon they overwhelm me. There's a sudden burst of black light that flowers inside my skull, and then the world goes dark.

When I wake up once more, I'm in a jail cell. My lower lip feels enormous, as though it's been inflated, and every bone in my body aches like a bitch. There's a distant drumming in the back of my head, as though an army is approaching from a long way off. I moan faintly and attempt to bury my face into a mattress that doesn't want to yield. The barrage of sensations causes my skin to prickle and my eyes to water. I cower, feeling simultaneously too hot and too cold. My hair hurts and my skin feels as though it's two sizes too small for my body.

The lumpy, hard ticking on which I'm lying seems like my last refuge. My shirt and jacket is gone, and my skin is clammy as gooseflesh covers me. I try to sink into the mattress, striving to recapture the comparative peace of oblivion.

"You're beginning to make me very angry." I groan, throwing my arm over my head in denial, hoping against hope that she was a product of my diseased imagination, and that I'm going to be left alone to pursue my hopeless slide into damnation. My head is ringing, and there are still strange flashes and distortions from whatever they gave me last night. I lie still, feeling somewhat akin to a rabbit that's been caught in headlights. I'm certainly not ready for the sharp, stinging pain as her riding crop slaps against my back.

I curse loudly, pushing my head deeper into the unforgiving mattress. I feel nauseous. I really don't want to acknowledge her, as though to do so will grant her power over me. Somehow it feels as though if only I could ignore her, she will become impotent.

Of course, there's no way that one can ignore her. The sting from the next blow brings the tears to my eyes despite my attempts to remain aloof.

"Get up, Mr. Ramsey, or believe me I will have no compunction about having your sorry carcass shipped back to Hong Kong." She strikes me again, a vicious blow that sucks the breath from my lungs. I grunt and roll over, permitting the daylight to drive its wicked, red-hot fingers through my eyeballs.

Through the watery mist I can see her silhouetted against harsh light. It seems as though she's surrounded by a corona of brilliant color, a black core that burns fiercely enough to convince me that I'm beset by a devil.

"Go away and leave me alone." Even as I'm whining, I know that she won't, and that I deserve anything that she might choose to inflict on me. Maybe if I deny her obedience I can make my punishment harsher.

"Oh, dear me, no, little man! Because of you, I am missing a very competent agent, and my team has disintegrated. You are going to put things right for me, or you will wish for the rest of your short, stupid life that you'd never been born." She reaches with the riding crop, running it over my naked chest as she speaks, circling each nipple, and then punctuating her last remark with a vicious cut across my belly. I gasp, half sitting up as the pain flashes, red as rage.

"Leave me alone," I whimper again, she laughs in a peculiarly unpleasant manner, and then calls out to someone beyond my field of vision. I wince. The gang's all here. My heart sinks as I hear the hated voice of Dobrinsky. It comes home to me right then that no matter what I do, there's no way out for me.

"Hello, Ace," says the grinning man, and the next thing I know, rough hands have hoisted me, slinging me over Dobrinsky's shoulder to dangle ignominiously as they stalk out of my safe, warm prison cell and bear me back to hell.

Damn and double damn! As if it wasn't bad enough that the child had to go out and deliberately defy me! I'm now in the unenviable position of having to bail one of my agents out of jail at the worst possible time.

I am not happy at this moment-not one little bit. The only thing that's stopping me from kicking his ass all the way back to Headquarters is the fact that he's obviously spent the last 24 hours getting into all kinds of nasty trouble. He's battered and bruised, with all kinds of scratches and bite marks over the whole of his skin. A couple of them are deep and will require at least tetanus and rabies series. Not to mention all the testing for social diseases he's going to have to undergo. Damn, damn, and damn.

After settling the local constabulary's ruffled feathers, I call HQ and order up the necessary medical work. Jackie informs me that Victor is still there, pouring over the case files; trying to find the clue that will get him on LiAnn's trail. Knowing Victor, he has neither eaten nor slept in the past 36 hours; and Jackie confirms my suspicions when I ask. I tell her to take him home and make him get a hot shower, a decent meal, and at least eight hours of sleep in that order.

My reasoning for this is two-fold. One, I need Victor to take care of himself. He's the senior agent on this right now, and still halfway capable of doing his job at the moment. Two, and more importantly, if we bring Mac into Headquarters in this condition and he happens to see us, he's going to want to know what happened and I can't bluff him if the physical evidence is staring him in the face. Say what you like about me, I refuse to allow my agents to needlessly endanger themselves if I can help it; and if Victor were to see what his lover's been getting up to without him, I could kiss both of their lives goodbye-and LiAnn's as well.

When we get back, I turn the putrid Mac over to the tender mercies of the medical staff and gather up Victor's research to go over it. He has an amazing mind hidden behind those wide guileless eyes and that boyish face, and I can see that he would have been a great profiler had he chosen to go that route. Still, I can honestly say that I'm glad he didn't. The small bit of his talent I've been witness to is more than enough to convince me that the price he would have paid for it would have been far too high. I like to think that one of my biggest strengths is helping good agents become great ones, and that can't happen if they needlessly self-destruct. Great agents are a rare enough commodity, and as a director, it's my job to nurture and care for them to the best of my ability.

It isn't an easy one at a time like this, especially with agents like Victor Mansfield and Malcolm Ramsey.

Case in point: I can even now hear Victor's dulcet tones raised in anger as he is refused access to his lover. I check my watch even though I have no real need. Three hours. Damn. Predictable as ever is my Vic. With a sigh, I push myself to my feet and prepare to square off with him.

"Mr. Mansfield. I thought you were under strict orders to get eight hours of sleep." I'm very proud of that tone, and the cold look that I know accompanies it. It's brought more than its fair share of kings and heads of state to their knees, gibbering in terror.

Victor, however, is a different story. "I can sleep when I'm dead." If the circumstances weren't so dire, I could better appreciate his defiance.

"True, but I refuse to forfeit LiAnn's life on a mistake you make because you missed something- something that you wouldn't have missed if you were fresh and alert. Go home and rest, Victor. We still have a bit of time." How much, I'm uncertain. Even as I insist on this, I'm loath to do so. There is no easy way out of this, something Victor knows all too well.

"We need every second we can get. Please...let me do my job. It's the only thing I've got right now."

It's the look that gets me-all puppy-dog earnestness and pain that twists the space inside from which my heart has long since fled. Damn.

"Very well." I acquiesce somewhat gracelessly; a testimony to the toll this crisis is taking on me. "I would like to go over your notes with you anyway," I turn away, toward the conference room, when the sound of Victor clearing his throat stops me.

"Uhm, what about Mac?"

What about Mac indeed! If I bring him in on this in his present state, I have no idea how Vic will react; plus, he's a mental wreck and of little or no use to us in his condition. On the other hand, Victor needs to see him...needs to know that he's alive and relatively safe. What to do, what to do...?

"He's sleeping it off right now, Mansfield. I'll bring him around in a little while," thank you, Agent Dobrinsky! You will be getting a very nice bonus this Christmas.

Victor reluctantly follows me into the conference room after looking longingly down the hallway towards Mac's hidey hole one last time. Soon, my dear Victor. You'll be able to see him sooner than you think.

In about 45 minutes, I get up and have Dobie bring him in. Victor's attention is flagging and there's nothing more I can get out of him as long as he's worrying about his Mac. However, as soon as he rises to check the younger man out more closely, I come back in and play Diva to the hilt. It wouldn't do to have Victor getting a good close look at Mac too soon.

So, I distract them with sarcasm, accusations, and ultimatums in order to get them on the path I need them to be. And yes, I did relish the way Victor's eyes widened in fear when I mentioned sending Mac back to the Tangs, but Mac's rather lackadaisical attitude was very disappointing. I expected him to be galvanized into some kind of rebellion. I must be losing my touch.

My experiences of the night before pale to insignificance compared to the indignities that I'm subjected to once we arrive back at ground zero, and the lair of the spider woman.

I'm injected with long, huge wickedly sharp needles, examined, probed and exclaimed over. I'm made to drink a thick liquid that tastes unspeakable, and then thrown into a bathtub to be scrubbed by the jeering Dobrinsky, who's here fresh from leading the class in Sadism 101. Finally he leaves me to towel myself dry and insert myself into a set of coveralls that I find hanging on the back of the door.

At one point I hear Victor's voice in the distance raised in argument with someone, and a chill clamps around my heart. The last thing on earth I need at this moment is to see Vic. I whimper and curl up in a corner as I wait for this final indignity, but after a while he appears to depart again, and I allow myself to breathe again, relief warming my limbs.

Dressed once more, I sit on the slatted, wooden bench and wait, aimless and uncaring. After a while Dobrinsky materializes, a vicious smile plastered over his ugly mug. I know that I've run out of time.

"Come on then, Ace." I sit, unmoving, and the bastard grabs me by the scruff of the neck, yanks me to my feet and hauls me off to the conference room.

He's there ahead of me, of course. Dobrinsky drops me into a chair and leaves me to sit there, miserably aware of the empty middle seat. I can feel Vic's eyes burning my skin as I droop, unwilling to look up and meet his gaze.

"Mac?" His voice is soft and anguished, and ruffles over my flesh, flaying me. I know that if I look at him I'll be lost. The power of those eyes of his will prove too much for me. I ignore him and remain still. My skin prickles as I hear him move, knowing that he's standing, coming towards me. If he touches me, I'm lost. I shrink into my seat and shiver.

"Well, well, my wandering boy returns." Vic's groan is plain to hear as the sarcastic tones of the Director announce her presence. I risk an upward glance, catching his movement as he subsides back into his chair, and then take in Messalina in all her glory. She's leather clad, with thigh-high boots and transparent shirt. Her hollow eyes are kohl-blackened and glow fury from her pale face. I swallow nervously and I can sense Vic as he shifts uneasily in his seat at her approach. I wish I were anywhere else but here.

"Leave him alone. Can't you see that he's been through enough?" Victor's voice rises, uncompromising and my stomach flutters to hear him attempting to protect me.

"You amuse me, Victor. After all the pain he's caused you, you're still trying to defend him How sweet." I hear him hiss, for all the world like a cat, as her words hit home.

"Why don't you get to the point? What do you want from us? You can't make us feel any worse than we already do, so just get on with it and forget the histrionics." I want to turn my head around and grin at him, see the anger on his face as he faces off with her, but all I can do is lean my head back and close my eyes. The sound of that damned riding crop as it slaps down against the polished oak of the table makes me jump.

"Very well." Her voice has lost any false joviality it contained previously. "The two of you neglected your duties with the end result that LiAnn was taken by a predator who is probably even now torturing the life out of her." She turns to me. "Mr. Ramsey, you have 24 hours in which to find the man and return whatever is left of LiAnn to us, or you will be sent back to the Tang Family along with a note detailing what happened to her. Victor will, I know, be pleased to offer whatever assistance he can." She tosses her head, throws a thin sheaf of papers down onto the table, and stalks out of the room, graceful and predatory, leaving Vic and I sitting, gaping in her wake.

Vic is the first to break the silence.

"Mac, baby, forgive me, please?" At last I turn to face him. I'm trying to ignore the pain that I hear in his voice, knowing that it just isn't enough and won't ever be enough.

"There's nothing to forgive, Vic. It was my fault. If I hadn't pushed you it would all have been fine." It's true. I'm the one that deserves the punishment. I'm the one for whom the pain will go on forever.

I hear his intake of breath. Fuzzily, I see him stand and begin to move towards me. I can feel the surge of many legged creatures shifting in my gut as he comes around to stand behind me.

"I love you, Mac." There's need in his voice. I hear it. It's a cry that sounds all the louder for remaining unvocalized.

"I love you too, Vic." I mumble, hunching down in my seat. I know that I'm hurting him as much as myself, but that I'm never going to stop because I deserve the pain, deserve to lose everything because of what I've done.

I feel his hand on my face, pushing my chin up and around to face him, and can't take it any more. I spring from my seat, putting the table between us with a shriek of "No!"

He looks desolate. I whisper, "I'm sorry, I can't." and back away.

He stands for a few more minutes, unmoving, his head drooping and his posture defeated. Then he nods sadly, and moves to the folder that the Director has left behind. I swallow and move to join him, close enough to smell him, and feel his warmth, but never touching him. Between us we go through the file, adding its contents to the information that we've already gleaned. We gradually begin to formulate a profile of this killer, an idea of where he lurks and what his modus operandi is.

"He keeps his victims for a week before he kills them, Mac. She's not dead yet." Vic speaks to me as though the information will somehow comfort me. I nod. He keeps them for sure, but he cuts them up in increasingly savage ways before he finally slits their throats and drains their lives away.

By this time the hour's late, and I'm exhausted. I've had little useable sleep over the past couple of days, and I find myself drooping. I look at Vic, so pale and miserable as he tries to get a plan of action together, and I know that whatever we're going to do will have to happen in the morning. I can't do anything more tonight.

"I'm going home," I say. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

He looks up at me, and his face is compassionate, beautiful. The eyes are dark with sorrow that paints his sweet face grey. "

Okay, baby," he whispers, and then he tears his gaze away. I see the effort that it entails. It's almost too much for me. I head for the doorway, and Dobrinsky steps out of the shadows.

"Not you, Ace. You stay here tonight. Wouldn't want to have you getting yourself lost again, would we?" I shrug. There's nothing that I can do to fight him in my present state. He's got that taser, and I'm all used up. Vic comes up behind me and stands at my shoulder.

"Let him go home. Can't you see that he's exhausted?" Dobrinsky laughs and starts to tug me to one of the side rooms, where there is a bed and a washbasin.

"You can sleep across the threshold if you like, Mansfield, but he stays here tonight." As he speaks, Dobrinsky is fastening a shackle around my ankle, and then fixing the other end of it to the bed. Too tired to protest, I fall onto the bed, and within a few minutes more I'm asleep. A couple of times in the night I believe that I hear Vic's sweet, husky voice speaking to me, but I'm tired, so tired, that the night rolls over me like plush velvet, carrying with it my heart, my soul and my pain.

Hearing Dobrinsky's callous suggestion makes me wince, but then so does the quiet resignation with which Victor Mansfield accepts the words. He's at the end of his rope; I can see that. When Ramsey is sleeping, that is to say about two minutes after he lies down, Victor stretches out on the floor at his bedside, and appears to be ready to sleep. Enough, I think to myself, and sighing, I summon the perquisites for a comfortable night's rest and take them in with me to where Victor the dragon is guarding his lover's sleep.

He has the grace to blush deep and red when he sees me. He's so tired that I can see he's ready to drop, and I hurry to make him comfortable. We've had our disagreements, he and I, and I don't expect the shy thanks he murmurs as I'm leaving. My sarcasm deserts me temporarily. Oh, well. Another day will see it restored to full, virulent strength.

In the early hours of the morning, when Mac cries out, Victor is there, soothing him as though he were a small child, his gentle, rough voice an instrument that seems to pacify the night horrors that have gripped his lover. Believing himself to be alone the look on his face is unguarded, and I feel very tender towards him despite my loathing of weakness.

After all of these years, who would think that a pair of pretty, brawling, silly male children would cause me to feel so... so maternal? If I don't shape up and start to fly right, I can see the day coming when sentiment will interfere with duty, and it will be time to find another whose soul has been mortgaged to whom I can hand over my reins.

Forgive me for wondering if LiAnn might be such a one.

The morning comes as I doze. Victor wakes and dresses. Dobrinsky comes to the door and tenders him a cup of coffee, and Victor leaves to return to the library. Dobrinsky stands for a minute, surveying the mess that is Malcolm Ramsey, and then unlocks the leg iron that holds him to the bed. Crisis has been averted for another little while. I can rely on Dobrinsky.

He gathers up the mattress and bedding that Victor has done with, and leaves Ramsey to sleep on.

Sighing, I repair the depredations time has made to my make-up, and go down to ride herd on my reluctant heroes.

I wake in the morning to find that I'm no longer wearing leg irons, and stagger out to find the bathroom. Dobrinsky falls into step with me as I emerge from the shower, and I find myself coerced into the conference room once more. Vic's there, and he's looking somewhat more cheerful today than he did last night.

"Hey, Mac. You know that set of stolen cars you tried to tie into the kidnappings last night? Well, I think I've got something. I was waiting to see you before I went any further, but now I see that you're okay, I need to go find Nathan and check something out. We might have him." I frown, recalling the line we were following last night. It makes sense to pursue it, though I can't quite fathom how he thinks that we're so close. The cars have all been stolen within a block or two of the kidnappings, and have all subsequently been discovered abandoned around Toronto. Last night I'd been looking for some kind of pattern in the locations where they'd been dumped. The vehicle that had vanished at the time of LiAnn's disappearance was a fancy Range Rover, and as yet it hasn't reappeared. That tells its own tale. I'd intended to go out today and see if any of the folks in that neighborhood have seen a Land Rover. They aren't too common in Toronto.

He approaches me as I'm thinking, and before I know it, he's glued his mouth to mine, hands at the back of my head pressing me in close against him as he covers my lips. He tastes of honey and cloves, and his mouth is hot, damp silk that threatens to demolish my will power. I freeze, desperate not to yield to the sweet suction and gentle stroking of his tongue. For a brief moment he clouds my senses, the heady scent of him making my knees weak and scooping the insides out of me to fill the place with butterflies. Almost, I return the kiss.

Almost.

Then, I fight, and he releases me, looks into my eyes longingly and is gone with a murmur of 'later.' I follow him with my eyes as he goes out of the door. His jeans fit him snugly, and his loose, open hipped walk zaps straight to my dick. He's walking stiffly too, and my cheeks flame as I realize why that might be. Shivering slightly, I apply myself to the files, and await his return from the library.

Nathan is a strange being. He's convinced that Vic is some kind of princely icon and that the world is ruled by a hierarchy of secret beings who take their orders from Alex Trebek. He told me once that the Director was an alien, sent here to invade the Earth. There are a number of things about that theory that make me believe he's absolutely right. Vic has a way of handling this Looney-Tune that is both delicate and desperate. When I need a laugh, I go down to the library and watch Vic try to get information from Nathan in a manner that leaves both of them with their dignity intact. Say what you like, Vic is a very kind man. There are times that he can subsume all the irritation and annoyance he feels in order to keep an odd little being feeling halfway good about himself.

The result is of course that Nathan would do anything for Vic. I expect him back quickly with whatever information he was seeking, but he doesn't come. Time passes, and I go in search of food. The Director be damned. I need fuel. Up in the canteen I inhale rather than eat a plateful of cholesterol, and as I feel my arteries begin to harden, I feel a little better.

Back downstairs again in the office, there's still no sign of Vic, and in truth I'm glad. It's so much easier to keep away from him when he's nowhere in sight. I'm just about to take myself down to the library to see what he's found out when the phone rings.

It's the Director. The Range Rover has been found, and LiAnn is inside it, trussed like a turkey, bearing several nasty cuts, but nothing that will ultimately be disfiguring. I take down the location of the hospital to which they've taken her and tell the Director that I'll be right along.

It takes me 20 minutes to get to the hospital, during which time I fret and fume with impotence, and once there I leave my car in a no parking zone and race through the ER in search of her. When I find her, The Director is with her, and so is Jackie. She's very pale, and her arms are swathed in bandages. She's bruised too. My heart thumps painfully as I look at her, wan against the pillow, parchment skin and bloodless lips, but safe, impossible though it seems. I drop to my knees and lay my forehead against the delicate bones of her wrist.

It takes a minute to hear the words that the Director is saying, but as she speaks I feel the cold sweat of terror trickle down my spine.

"Victor gave himself in exchange for LiAnn. I expect that he had some kind of plan worked out with you, and that we can go momentarily to fetch him back, Mr. Ramsey." The voice is placid, and I realize that she really thinks that this is true. Oh, God.

"I... er... " I rise to my feet and race precipitously from the room. I arrive at my car just as the tow truck makes an appearance, and scream off leaving a black and smoking layer of rubber behind me on the road. I'm driving madly, and I have no idea where I'm going, except that I have to find out where he's been taken. I have to save him. I imagine Vic, my Vic with his throat slit, cut to ribbons by this sadistic maniac, and I can't breathe.

Arriving back at the headquarters of the shadowy government agency, I race to the library.

Nathan is sweating quietly at the top of a ladder as he pores over a tome that is almost as big as he is. I call for him to come down, and he gives me a look from wild eyes in which I can see the pupils surrounded by white, like a pair of poached eggs floating on a sea of olive oil.

"Nathan, I need to talk to you. Come on down." I'm trying to be gentle, when what I want to do is pick the bonehead up by his ears and shake the shit out of him.

"That's what Bob Barker said to me, and look what happened to him," says Nathan, the words tumbling over themselves in their rush to be free from the strange place that is his mind.

"Bob Barker?" I say, temporarily diverted. "I haven't seen him for a while. What did happen to him?"

"Gone," says Nathan in sepulchral tones. "They took him back to the hive. He's underground now, servicing the queen."

I shake my head, as much to dislodge his words as anything. Then I try again, taking a new tack this time.

"Nathan, Victor's in trouble. He needs you to help him." That gets his attention and he climbs down the ladder at last, coming to face me at its foot.

"He left you a message," he says, lugubriously. I resist the urge to seize him by the throat and content myself with dancing impatiently. After a minute or two, he still hasn't produced anything that looks like a message.

"Where is it? Where's the message?" The words are forced out of me despite my inner belief that the man is totally nuts and unlikely to have any information worth sharing. Not for the first time, I wonder where the Director found him. He shudders and takes a hit from his asthma spray.

"I ate it." He moves to duck around the ladder, and I reach to grab his collar, hauling back to me. The Ventolin spray gets another workout.

"What do you mean, you ate it? What the hell did you do that for?" He's sweating profusely now. His bony face is radiating horror and defiance in equal quantities, and in another world, with time to spare and compassion to give I would be reminded of Don Quixote. As it is, I'm merely pissed off.

"Victor is a Prince of the Illuminati," he says, looking both ways and then dropping his voice until I have to strain to hear it. "If she were to find out what he's planning, the whole world could be in peril. I memorized it."

"She?" My voice is unnaturally squeaky as I'm sidetracked for a minute. "What do you mean, 'she'?"

He gestures me closer still. His lips now tickle my ear and I'm about two seconds from beating him senseless.

"The Alien Queen. She was here with Victor, snooping around what he was doing. He didn't seem to realize, but I did." His face takes on an air of triumph. "She'll never drag the truth from me."

"Nathan, just give me the message. Don't keep me in suspense." I dredge my brain for something suitably loony to say. "The future of the world depends on Victor, and he's put all his faith in you, my brave librarian." It's obviously the right thing to say, because he perks up, and a timid, almost smile skitters over his face. My hopes are dashed again with his next utterance.

"How am I to know that you're really Mac Ramsey? They can change their shape, you know." He leans close to me again, inviting me to take the book from his grasp and smash out his brains with it. I count to ten.

"Who can?" I ask, knowing as I do so that Nathan Muckle is doomed, and that I will be the one that kills him.

"The bug creatures," he says. "LiAnn went home, and since then, she's been amassing a huge force. You can tell by the buzzing sound they make."

"Nathan, do I buzz?" I ask, gripping tightly to the shreds of sense that remain to me. Just at that moment, my wristwatch beeps the hour, and we both jump. When I recover my scattered wits, he seems to have vanished. As I'm looking around for him, his voice drifts up to me from beneath the book-laden desk.

"Mac, baby, I don't have a lot of time. Jason from the bar called me, and that Range Rover was seen being driven by a guy he knows. The name we're looking for is Ashwin Marken. He's a holy roller of some sort, and Jase has seen him around from time to time, trying to save souls. I've been in touch with Marken, and he didn't deny having LiAnn. He said that she needed to pay for her sins. He also said that if I came and arrested him, we'd never find LiAnn, so I'm going to try for an exchange. That way, you can be easy. LiAnn will be safe, and I'll take my chances. I love you so much, Mac. Vic." By the time he stops speaking, I'm there, under the table with him, and I have him by the shoulders, ready to shake the living daylights out of him.

"Do we have anything on Ashwin Marken?" I say from between gritted teeth.

He indicates a slim file.

"Address, social security number, past affiliations, that kind of thing. I was studying the bills of lading for a company of which he's part owner. They import and export things, mostly religious icons and relics. There's a warehouse that's owned by the company." I grab the folder, kiss the astonished librarian on the forehead, and take off.

On my way out to my car, I pass Dobrinsky. He seems inclined to stop me, so I knock him cold with a roundhouse kick without even stopping. No religious nut is going to have Victor. He may no longer be my lover, but he's...

Fuck it! He's mine, He'll always be mine. It's just that I can't have him any more.

The warehouse is in a seedy part of Toronto, and as I pull up I see no signs at all that there's anyone inside. I ghost around the building, and finally find a door that is held closed by a rusty padlock. It really doesn't look as though anyone has been in here for years, but I have to check it out.

I make short work of the padlock, and soon I'm inside the building, sneaking easily through a decaying corridor that leads towards the main body of the warehouse. The whole place is damp and stinks of old things, imperfectly preserved. I can hear the skitter and scrabble of rats in the walls as I pick my way through the trash that covers the floor, and hope that, if Vic is here, he's in better accommodations than this.

Coming to the open doorway at the end of the passage, I listen, but other than a faint dripping, all I hear are the rustles that signify rodents. I step into the main area of the warehouse itself.

It's nothing special as warehouses go. It's about a third full, I suppose. Boxes and crates are stacked up at one end of the facility, and the roof has skylights set into it, dirty and bird-spattered as they are. There is enough light from the dregs of the day for me to see that there's nowhere on this side of the boxes where Vic could be concealed.

I draw my gun and steal towards the stacks of containers, trying to remain silent as I step over sodden lumps of packing. As I move, keeping to the edge of the room, the sky darkens, and there is the low rumble of distant thunder. Suddenly the sound of rain hammering against the building masks any sound that I might make, and in very short order I realize why the floor is so damp, as water begins to drip through from the roof, making a different sound, as though there were a hundred woodpeckers at work.

As I freeze, listening for any signs that I might have been spotted, a cold wet onslaught invades the back of my neck, and I bite back a curse as a leak dribbles down inside my shirt. Moving quickly, as much to escape the wetness as to reach my goal, I hurry to the boxes, and as I squeeze my way past them, I see a glimmer of light beneath a door set into the opposite wall from the one by which I entered.

Vic! I'm coming for you. Nobody had better hurt you, lover. Guess that I believe I'm the only one who can do that.

I can hear a man's voice now, and I look carefully at the door. If this joker thinks he's going to cut my Victor's throat, I'd better not alarm him into doing it prematurely. I try the handle, and yeah, it's locked. As if that would ever keep me out if I wanted to get in.

It's always the women who end up waiting. History is full of women who waited for their conquering heroes. I have no wish to emulate them, so I stack the deck a little. LiAnn is still in the hospital, and will likely remain so for the next day or two, but I summon up Murphy and Camier as soon as I manage to prize out from Nathan the whereabouts of my wandering boys.

I must do something about Nathan. What, I'm really not sure, but there must be something. The boy is useful, very useful, but he tires me out.

Maybe I'll allocate Victor to work with him for a week or two. Victor seems to calm him sometimes. What it will do to Victor I'm not sure, but it will be a fitting punishment for his recent transgressions I have no doubt.

I'm about to dispatch the Cleaners to assist in dealing with the situation that Mac is in, when suddenly I have second thoughts, and join them.

We're halfway to the site when the call comes.

I do want to get in, and so I pick the lock. There's a bolt on the inside from the feel of it, and the door doesn't open. I can still hear the voice within, by now raised in a hymn of some kind, and I guess that I've been quiet enough, or just plain lucky. I step back, and put my entire soul into a kung-fu kick that takes the door off its hinges and leaves it hanging crazily. Gun held out before me, I enter the room.

There are candles, an altar, and strapped to the cross behind it, my Vic.

He's naked, save for a loin cloth, and his hands and feet are tied to the cross in a savage, obscene mimicry of the crucifixion. Around his neck is a tight leather thong that has cut deep into his neck. His face is blue. I can see that he still lives, because his chest is heaving with the effort of finding breath, but the fucker standing before him, swinging a censer of some kind of incense is twisting the ends of the thong in his hand as he sings, and Vic's dying. I can see that he is. Two steps bring me to his side, and I pluck the ends of the garrote from his hands, spin him around to face me and let my mind go blank as I beat him to a pulp.

It's the first satisfying thing I've managed to do all day. Looking down on the bastard that's ruined my life, I feel the anger heating my face, and haul him up towards me as though he were merely a bundle of rags. He hiccups, and there's a bubbling sound from him as he tries to speak. I shake him to and fro as though he were a rat.

"What the hell were you doing to him?" I scream, and the dead meat in my hands dares to reply to me.

"He's committed sins of the flesh. He deserves to die. By God's holy commandment, he has come here to allow me to render the final judgment and cast out the demon that resides within him." I shake him again.

"What sin? What did he ever do to you?" I hiss.

"He's homosexual. He's done things that are unnatural. He has to expiate his sin before God will look at him." I've heard enough. My beautiful Vic is at death's door, and I don't have time for this piece of shit. I dash him to the ground, and use my foot to snap his neck. I hope that God's watching out for him - only thing is, I hope it's my God, not his that gets him.

I turn to Vic, hanging above me. His limbs are white marble, with traces of blue at the crook of his elbows. With the loosening of the noose around his neck, his head has sagged forward, and he's not aware of my presence. I remove the thing, and then I wonder how to cut him loose without causing him any further injury.

I drag the altar - which proves to be a table beneath the cloth that covers it - closer to him, and step up onto it, using my body to hold him upright while I cut his wrists free. His hands are blue and swollen. I pray that I was in time to save his fingers, and lower him down onto the altar table, cutting his feet free while I do so.

Another table, and another time rise up in my memory as I cut him loose. Poor Vic, and poor me. Quick as thought, I drop a kiss onto his unknowing mouth, and then chafe his hands, attempting to get the circulation flowing through them again.

A call to Headquarters gets me Dobrinsky, who assures me that there will be assistance with me very soon. I demand an ambulance for Vic, and then I turn back to him, wrapping him in the cloth that covered the altar and hugging him to my body in an attempt to warm him, and to lose that bluish tinge that frightens me so much. I can't see any vestige of his clothing, so I stay, covering him, my jacket wrapped around him and his head pillowed against my chest.

When the Director finds us, she raises one eyebrow in wry amusement, but says nothing. I'm grateful for that. I hand Vic over to the paramedics, who wrap him in a foil blanket and take him away. I don't follow. I make no excuse for the battered corpse of Ashwin Marken, and nobody asks me for any. Alone, I turn and leave.

The warehouse is glowing as I drive away, and soon, I know, there will be flames rising to the heaven that Marken was so sure existed. Maybe he'll even find his way there, though I doubt it.

For me, I have a date with a bottle of Jim Beam, and the knowledge that hell is here on earth with me now.

5: Waiting for the Night

I'm waiting for the night to fall
I know that it will save us all
When everything's dark
Keeps us from the stark
Reality

I'm waiting for the night to fall
When everything is bearable
And there in the still
All that you feel
Is tranquility.

There is a star in the sky
Guiding my way with it's light
And in the glow of the moon
Know my deliverance will come soon

I'm waiting for the night...

Waiting For The Night, Depeche Mode--VIOLATOR (1990) Sire Records

Vic:

When I first saw Mac again, together with LiAnn, I instantly knew my baby was very, very unhappy. It's been two weeks since I was rescued; two weeks since my lover busted into that dank, abandoned warehouse and killed Ashwin Marken to save my life, his face alight with vengeful fury as he beat the hell out of the other man before snapping his neck and consigning the other man's tortured soul to hell.

Yes, I saw it all; saw what Mac did to Marken, and what he did afterwards. I don't know how to explain it, but I know that I did. It's like a dream, a startlingly clear dream with vivid sound and color; and all the everyday information gained by just being alive is so sharp and bright as to dazzle the senses to the point of painful overload. I was so close to leaving it all behind; and the only thing that kept me here is the pain I felt in Mac as he agonized over my dying body and begged me not to leave him all alone.

As usual, I can deny him nothing; and before all of this, that fact wouldn't have bothered me at all.

It's been two weeks. Two fucking weeks of nothing but Agency doctors futzing over me in between bad meals and even worse television. Two weeks; during which I've been dubiously graced with the company of Jackie Janczyk almost constantly, interspersed with thankfully short visits from the Director and Dobrinsky--hell, even Murphy and Camier overcame their well-known (and strictly professional, mind you) hatred of hospitals long enough to pay me a visit during my convalescence.

But the one person I'd been wanting and hoping to see hadn't come at all during that time, and his absence was a strong statement. Jackie told me the reason; told me that Mac and LiAnn were a couple again with sadness in her eyes and compassion in her voice, and that Mac was drinking heavily--had been since LiAnn's abduction--and getting worse by the day. So when the two of them had finally shown up a bare ten minutes before my release with Mac looking like he'd rather be anywhere else and LiAnn demurely, quietly smug, I wasn't terribly surprised.

I was, however, terribly hurt. That Mac would think so little of me, to avoid me this way, is very painful. What the hell did he think I was going to do, cause a scene the way LiAnn had? He should know better. If being with LiAnn is truly what my partner wants, I won't stand in their way. I don't have to like it, after all; I only have to get through it.

Getting through it, however, would be so much easier if Mac didn't look so beaten down and world- weary. The mischievous sparkle that I had loved so much is gone from the younger man's dark velvet eyes; leaving them dead and blank, as if his body is nothing more than an animated shell or a broken puppet missing some of its strings.

The stray thought brings to mind an image from one of those insipid boy-group videos they constantly run on MTV or Much Music or whatever. The one where the group members, newly freed from their strings, spend five-plus minutes trying to outsmart their demented female puppet master by escaping from whatever scenario she happened to drop them into. Looking at her now, I can easily picture LiAnn as the girl in the video, putting the two of us through our paces and laughing with great glee as we find all our exits blocked time and again.

It makes me angry. I want to scream, 'can't you see how fucking miserable he is? Don't you even care? Fucking look at him, for Christ's sake!' I want to shake LiAnn until her head rattles. I want to slap her teeth out. I really, really want to wrap my hands gently around her throat the way Marken did to me in her place and just squeeze until her breath rattles and her windpipe collapses under the relentless pressure and the light dies in her eyes and then Mac would...

"Vic? Hey, sweetie, you okay?" I blink slowly at the question and turn from my contemplation of LiAnn's delicate unbruised neck to look over at Jackie, concern evident in her face as she watches me steadily.

Fuck, I wish Marken had finished me off. Maybe I shouldn't have left a message with Nathan after all; I mean, they would have eventually found my body, right? I wouldn't have to be going through this pain right now if I hadn't wanted to keep Mac from worrying about me. But I did, and now I have to take my lumps for my selfishness.

"Yeah," I rasp. One of the souvenirs Marken has left me with is a bruised larynx and it makes talking an annoyance at best right now. "I'm fine. I just need to get the hell out of here," I savagely stuff my bag and avoid looking at my other partners--especially Mac, who is pale and sallow and starting to get that slightly jaundiced look from all the hard drinking he's doing. More than two weeks on a bender with no end in sight can do that to a man; I know that well enough from personal experience with my dad.

Oh, baby; I'm so sorry, I want so badly to reach out and touch Mac, wrap him tightly in my arms and let the rest of the world fade while we heal, but it isn't possible. Mac's made his choice and now we both have to live with it. But it's hard and it hurts so badly and the wound is still too raw and open for me to be able to successfully pretend I'm anything less than devastated at the moment.

And LiAnn knows it--of course she does. How could she not, with the way I'm broadcasting my pain and distress? It's like my emotions are wired to a radio tower or something, and I hate it. I've been such a sucker--again. LiAnn has played me so skillfully from the first time she walked into my life and now here I am, getting stepped on once more by a woman. Is there some kind of freaking sign tattooed on my forehead or something?

Dizzily, I close my eyes for a moment and take deep breaths. Just in...out...in...out...in...out, until the red haze passes and my anger is under control again. I know deep down that LiAnn couldn't possibly have faked everything over the years, know that what is going on with her at the moment is some crazy dysfunctional shit that she needs serious help for; but while my head knows it, my heart is still hurting from her spiteful selfishness.

Apparently, so is Mac's.

"I'll get the car," god, he sounds just as bad as I feel. He's gone before anyone can voice a protest, a slight wobble to his step as he hastens back through the door he just came in. Baby, please don't go...don't leave me again...why couldn't you just let me go when I wanted to, when I was ready for it? Now you're killing me a piece at a time instead, and it's damned cruel. It hurts--but I'll let you do it anyway because you asked it of me. You asked me to stay here with you, so here I am. Fucking pathetic, isn't it; and sadly, par for the course.

Well, hurting or not, we are still a team at the moment--which means we're all stuck with each other whether any of us likes it or not. For Mac's sake, I'll try to be charitable. "You don't have to do this," I sigh to LiAnn as I finish stuffing the bag, "Jackie's giving me a ride home." I look up at the last, straight into my ex's face, full of superiority under the mock concern and feel myself tense. There's a hard cold knot in my chest and I can feel it expand as she opens her mouth to speak.

"I never got to thank you, Victor," the tone is gentle, contrite and grateful. If I hadn't been watching her eyes I could believe that she actually meant it. "I mean, what I did was really stupid and if it hadn't been for you I would have..."

"Save it," a sudden vision of LiAnn and myself flashes before my eyes and I can hear the same tone of voice all those years ago as she told me how much I meant to her, how much she loved me and wanted to be my wife....if it hadn't been for you...

Something brittle inside snaps with the memory and I look up at her, gratified to see her flinch under my ice-cold stare. "You wanna thank me, LiAnn? You really want to express your gratitude to me? Then make the most of this chance and be good to him. Treat him the way he deserves to be treated, not the way you have been ever since he walked back into your life; the way you probably treated him when it was Michael Tang in my place."

Her eyes grow huge and I know I've struck a nerve. Contrary to my usual behavior, I grab it with both hands and run and it feels so fucking good to finally be free of this sick game of hers. Now, every word I say is both the death knell for our decaying 'relationship' and a celebration of my new-found freedom. Forgive me when I say I can't see any reason to be happy just now.

"Well, sweetheart, I ain't crazy or stupid enough to get dragged back into your little game. Unlike the late Mr. Tang, I learn from my mistakes. So you can bet I won't be dragging my ass across the Pacific--or anywhere else for that matter--to rescue you from your stupidity anymore. Never again, LiAnn. But if you don't start treating him right and giving him the love he deserves, there will be nowhere you can hide from me. Do you understand that, LiAnn? Nowhere." I mean it, too. Watch and see if I don't.

She stares at me for a long moment, looking so insipidly sweet in her shock and righteous indignation that my palms are itching again. "Victor, you seem to think I had something to do with him leaving you. I didn't. I swear, I didn't do anything. This was his choice--and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you'll see that this was all for the best. It never would have worked between you anyway, you're too different," she's talking down to me, using that soothing tone of voice she has when she thinks she knows better than anyone else and is 'just trying to help.'

It's all I can do not to physically hurt her right now, but there is no way in hell I'm going to keep the poison inside myself to fester. LiAnn might have won the day; but the very least I owe myself is to let her know that she didn't get Mac back for free.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It looks like we'll never know. But the one thing I do know is that I love him; I love him enough to let him go if that's what he needs from me. I seriously doubt you can say the same. The reason you got taken and got all of us into this mess in the first place was because you could never accept not being the sole center of his attention anymore--or mine. You couldn't accept that the game was over," as LiAnn continues to stare at me in hurt wonder, I decide I'm in for the jackpot and let it rip. There's no way the Director is going to take me off the team as long as I do my job and do it well; and it doesn't matter to me if she decides to in any case. Hell, she might even like the new dynamic; lord knows the woman is just twisted enough to.

Either way, I still have to find a way to make myself go back to the way it was before; a feat I'm becoming more and more convinced will be all but impossible. Mac took all of the most important parts of my defenses with him when he left to answer the siren call of the brass bitch standing before me, looking so very hurt and bewildered by this anger currently being directed towards her.

Well, what the fuck did she expect? She's toyed with us both for so long. She actually expected us to be happy with the crumbs she tossed our way while she fed off our animosity towards each other, then acted like a spoiled child when we didn't want to play with her anymore--a spoiled child who's gotten her way in the end, as usual, with all of us...Mac, me, and Michael Tang as well...so I figure I've got nothing to lose by venting at this point. "

I wonder if Michael realized just how well you played him before he died. I know Mac did," I grin evilly at the shocked look on her face, "and I'll give you another little bit to chew on, darling mine. The only reason Mac is by your side instead of mine right now is because of Family obligation. You must be so proud of yourself, being able to inspire that kind of slavish devotion in a man," LiAnn opens her mouth again but I ignore her. She's already gotten all the consideration I can muster for her today, and a damn sight more than she deserves from either Mac or myself considering the situation.

"A word of advice, beautiful: keep on playing it like you are and it won't be strong enough to hold him there. Sooner or later, he'll get tired of being treated like a boytoy again," I leave the fact that I'll be waiting for that day with open arms and an open heart unsaid. He'll come back to me someday. He has to.

Doesn't he?

I know I should leave it alone now, but the pain and stress of the situation--not to mention the events of two weeks ago--have finally caught up to me and I'm too far gone to put a rein on the acid and bile spewing from my soul. Truth be told, I don't even want to. I'm tired of being nice and understanding; all it ever gets me is a swift kick in the ass and LiAnn has kicked me more times than all the others in my life combined, including the bastards that set me up. I take great pleasure in watching her squirm as I drive my point home.

"Remember, LiAnn; always remember your pride. Always remember that's how Marken got to you, and if it wasn't for this pok gai, you'd be just another dead body on a slab. Most importantly, always remember that you have Mac to thank for your life any time you wanna make him bleed for forsaking you, because now I can honestly say that I don't give a shit about you anymore. You killed every last scrap of love and charity I ever felt for you by forcing him to choose between his Family and his happiness with your fucked-up, psychotic bullshit."

"Victor, I didn't force him...," there are crocodile tears in her eyes and a tremor in her voice as she tries to defend her position.

I'm not fooled for an instant and cut her off savagely. "If it were up to me and I had to do it all over again, knowing what I know about you now, I would have left you there with Marken. Because having just seen Mac and the way he is with you, I think he would have been better off after all," she flinches again and seems to deflate a bit, sagging back against the wall for support and staring at me like a scared rabbit.

Aww. Poor frail little LiAnn...getting picked on by big bad mean old Victor. Right. Well, the truth hurts and I'm not about to spare her any of it anymore. It's high past time she found out what real pain feels like.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I pin LiAnn against the wall on my way out the door by stepping into her space until we're almost touching bodily and looking deep into her eyes. Cheap and juvenile I know, but it's effective and I'll take what I can get.

"I also know that if you're stupid enough to let him get away this time, I'll be there to take up the slack and you won't get another chance ever again. So love him, LiAnn, and love him well; because he's given up his life twice now for it and may not survive the next time."

"Vic, don't you think that you were, like, way harsh?" Jackie says mildly as she drives to my apartment. Surprised, little girl? Didn't think the big dumb hick cop was capable of being anything but a doormat when it came to LiAnn, did you? I hope you learned something back there, Jackie, because I've just about had it with the lot of you and your bullshit head games. One more good push is all I need and you'll all be very, very sorry if I get it.

"What's it to you?" I snap waspishly. Not only am I tired of her constantly hanging around, it hadn't helped that I had to pass right by Mac with her in tow as I walked through the med center's front entrance. But the clincher for my current foul mood had been seeing Mac tear back into the hospital after LiAnn. It sums up the state of my life perfectly.

"Nothing," Jackie shoots back calmly, "nothing at all. But I'd suggest keeping a lid on your temper from now on, unless you actually like the idea of becoming Dobie's new personal slave."

"I'll keep that under advisement," I growl before turning away to watch the scenery go by and pointedly ignoring my unwanted Samaritan for the rest of the ride. What the hell's her problem anyway? She's been sticking up for LiAnn ever since that night in the club, not that the party in question would ever appreciate it. LiAnn considered Jackie a threat from the first time she laid eyes on her; which is hilariously pathetic to me. The biggest threat to LiAnn's happiness and peace of mind has always been herself.

I hear her mutter, "Jeez. Some people are just so hard to help," and ignore that too.

One week later...

I don't know what the hell I think I'm doing. This is stupid, right? Hanging out online in a chat room in the middle of the night...it's the epitome of not having a life. Yet here I am, doing exactly that; because, well, I don' t have a life. Didn't have much of one before Mac, and don't have one at all now that Mac's gone. Fitting really. So I hang out and watch the words scroll by on the screen, waiting for a conversation to find me because I'll go crazy from the memories if I don't.

(hongkongfooey) Anyone out there?

When the IM finally comes, I'm tempted to ignore it; not really feeling up to chatting after all. Then I remember why I fostered this particular online relationship in the first place. Maybe this is Corey's way of telling me that I need to pull my head out of my ass and start living again. But I don't want to right now. It still hurts.

You have to do it sometime, Moose. When did my conscience start sounding like my beloved best childhood friend, the first boy I ever kissed and the first man I ever loved? It doesn't help that I can close my eyes and see Corey sitting right in front of me. It'll get better eventually, baby. Promise.

God, am I ever losing it. Still, I click the mouse and type back...

(MightyMoose) hey! long time, no see...what's up?

(hongkongfooey) Is that the polite form, or do you really want to know?

(MightyMoose) touchy...I'd really like to know...

(hongkongfooey) Got masochistic tendencies, do ya?

(MightyMoose) hey, you know me...pain, and lots of it... <g>

(hongkongfooey) Everything in my life seems to have fucked itself up. I'll join you in hell, shall I?

Boy, is that ever on the bull's-eye...

(MightyMoose) yeah. so what's going on?

(hongkongfooey) I seem to have talked myself out of the best thing in the world, 'n into slavery.

Ah...work again. Well, that's nothing new. Fooey's boss seems to delight in torturing the poor guy. Still, it could be worse. He could have been working for the Director.

(MightyMoose) the boss eat you for breakfast again?

(hongkongfooey) I wish that was all it was. This is so far beyond that, I need a telescope.

Ho-kayyyyy...

(hongkongfooey) Tell me this, have you ever been in love? I mean really in love?

Oh, man, you just don't know...it hurts to *live* right now...

(MightyMoose) :::sigh::: yes. very, very much in love...with the last person I ever expected to be...why?

(hongkongfooey) Because I've just managed to talk myself out of being with the love of my life...

How the hell do you do that? It's bad enough when they don't want you...

(MightyMoose) damn. talk to me...what happened?

(hongkongfooey) Ah...How do you feel about gays?

Brother, if you only knew...

(MightyMoose) :::frown::: what do you mean? do i have a problem w/it? No...I mean, you love who you love, right?

(hongkongfooey) Right. ::sigh:: thas the prob. I fell for the most gorgeous guy you ever saw...And hid it from him for months.

(MightyMoose) yeah? why? he had a problem w/it?

There's a long pause, then the answer comes back...

(hongkongfooey) My guy-I suddenly found out that he loved me right back. How cool was that?

Well, that's good...at least somebody's getting the love they need...

(MightyMoose) Really? that's great!

(hongkongfooey) And he... oh, man, you gotta see him. He's more than I deserve.

Yeah? You haven't seen my baby...that thought brings a stab of pain with it, and I ruthlessly squash it by turning flip. Mac would be so proud.

(MightyMoose) yeah? <eg> tell me...

(hongkongfooey) So I had to fuck it all up, didn' I?

Huh?

(hongkongfooey) See, it's wrong.

Oh, jeez, not another poor tortured soul wrestling with his sexuality. I seem to remember the guy talking about some wacked-out girl he'd been chasing for a while a few months back, one who liked to play mind games...and a guy he was working with...could that be the one he's talking about?

(MightyMoose) what? what's wrong?

(hongkongfooey) Can't be having ttoo much fun. 'swrong. So I can't have hm

Okay, this is not good. This is definitely bad. The typing is starting to screw up...

(MightyMoose) I don't understand...you're not making sense...

(hongkongfooey) Makes perfec sense. He's not mine. Can't be. Won[' be ever again.

It was a couple of minutes before he answered me, so naturally I'm a bit worried...and there's this slight nagging in the back of my mind...I push it away and concentrate on the words on the screen.

(MightyMoose) are you....are you okay?

(hongkongfooey) Course I'm okay. What could possibly be wrong? O-kayyyy.I won't call him on it yet.

(MightyMoose) yeah? lots of typos tonight...so what happened?

(hongkongfooey) My tpying is fine.

(hongkongfooey) Tld you already. Duty calls, and I got to give him up.

What the fuck? God, I think this guy's got a bigger guilt complex than I do...maybe it couldn't be worse...the Director is a bitch and something of a control freak, but she'd never go *this* far...

(MightyMoose) duty? what duty? your boss can't tell you who to love...it's not like he can fire you for it.

(hongkongfooey) She'd fire me in a heartbeat. Think that's all that's left now. Get fired and it can all go fuck itself. Ah. Well maybe she wants him all for herself. Still, there's no way she could get away with it...

(MightyMoose) listen...you cannot be fired for being gay. that's against the labor laws...

(hongkongfooey) She'd wend me back. I'd be dead in a day.

I think I have to call him on it now...that just made no sense at all...

(MightyMoose) wend?

(hongkongfooey) What? Wend? Oh... send. Sorry. Fingers a little fuzzy.

Tell me about it...Fooey, man, what the hell are you doing to yourself? And why do I care so much about it?

(MightyMoose) I can see that...okay. Tell me what happened. Did he find out about your past?

(hongkongfooey) already knew all fo that. Tol you. Perfect man.

Something tells me to wait, and I do so. The most important thing I learned with Corey, honed to perfection by years of drug counseling was how to be patient with these bruised, battered wrecks of humanity as they struggled to express all of the hurt and pain buried and festering inside themselves--the reason most of them were using in the first place.

(hongkongfooey) See, there;s a prior claim on my affectoins/ so I can't be happy. Got to do the duty.

Okay, the picture's starting to come into focus...not the boss. Maybe an old girlfriend?

(MightyMoose) girlfriend? what happened? is she pregnant?

(hongkongfooey) Pregnant isn't an option. She'd just kill herself and it would be my fault.

God, what a guilt trip. Whoever this chick is, I'm surprised that my boss hasn't gotten hold of her yet...there's nothing she likes better than somebody who can turn a good head job...

(MightyMoose) suicide is the choice of the person who uses it...it's the coward's way out...

(hongkongfooey) My fault. All my fault. She's gonne get herslef hurt and is my fault.

What is with all these manipulative women lately? I think I'm starting to really dislike the female of the species...or some of them, at any rate...

(MightyMoose) NO! not your fault...why would you think that?

(hongkongfooey) She can't seal with me an' him.

(hongkongfooey) Deal.

(hongkongfooey) Not seal.

Okay...now I really have to call him on this--he's not usually this sloppy when he chats...

(MightyMoose) are you drinking?

(hongkongfooey) Only a bit. Spilling most of it...

Shit. I knew it...

(MightyMoose) damn.

(hongkongfooey) Yep. Damn is right.

I feel somehow responsible...as if I let Fooey down by not being there when he needed someone to chat with...my selfishness of the past few weeks iscoming back to haunt me in more ways than one. It's an arrogant assumption, I know, but maybe if I had been there he would be better able to deal with his demons now.

(MightyMoose) put it down. right now. didn't you tell me that you didn't want to go back to what you used to be?

(hongkongfooey) Don' ubderstand. Put it down? Too late...

(MightyMoose) you told me once that you didn't want to be the person you were anymore...why is it too late?

(hongkongfooey) I don't want to be the person I am. Don' wanna hurt like this.

(MightyMoose) and what person would that be? booze isn't gonna make it better...you'll still have the same problems when you come up for air...more...

(hongkongfooey) Gonna make it go away.

(MightyMoose) no it isn't...it's gonna make more...I should know...

(hongkongfooey) An anyway, didn't just do the booze. He'd be sick if he knew.

My heart stutters and stops in my chest...whatever's going on in Fooey's life must be horrible for him to turn back to the illusory comfort of some of his stronger vices...suddenly, a horrible suspicion hits me, but then I chalk it up to too many years of working for a shadowy government agency...

(MightyMoose) the drugs too? what did you do? the ecstasy?

(hongkongfooey) Got myself wasted...Don't know...too much.

For some reason, I'm desperate now...I have to know, but getting the information is a delicate and dangerous task...if I push him too hard, he could just sign off and I'd never see him again--and I'd never know what happened to him. I don't want to take that chance...

(MightyMoose) how wasted? did you shoot? What? what happened?

(hongkongfooey) Did it all, man. They fucked me an I didn't even know. Woke up half naked in thesnow. Oh, fuck. Lost 24 hours

Gang-banged. Sweet Jesus in heaven...I feel the chill crawl up my spine as my mind supplies pictures of victims from my days in Vice...but there's a more pressing concern right now...

(MightyMoose) define all...what drugs did you do? please...it's important...

(hongkongfooey) Don't know. Why do you care

If I tell him I used to be a cop, he's gonna bail, so I give him a small portion of the truth...

(MightyMoose) because...I used to work w/addicts...

(hongkongfooey) yeah?

(MightyMoose) yeah...

(hongkongfooey) An you think I'm an additc?

Careful, Vic...this is dangerous territory here...

(MightyMoose) i'm not here to judge, man...I just know that you can get yourself into serious trouble...a lot of that shit is seriously addictive...

(hongkongfooey) Don't you see, I want to? Want to haev it all out of my hands. Nothing I do is gonna help now.

This is the hard part, the part I hate the most because it's an all or nothing proposition. Trying to convince an addict who's lost hope that there 's still something to live for...

(MightyMoose) but you wanted to be in control...that's why you got sober...isn't it?

(hongkongfooey) That was when there was a reason to do it.

(MightyMoose) there still is. You're the reason...

No answer for a long moment. Damn, I'm losing him...God, please help me...I don't think I could take this on top of Mac right now...

(MightyMoose) okay...just tell me this...did you shoot?

(hongkongfooey) Yeah.

(MightyMoose) shit. what?

(hongkongfooey) Dunno. Didn't help. Came down hard...

(MightyMoose) did you share needles?

(hongkongfooey) Not gonna. Don't really know. Did a whole lot of stuff there. They really stuck it to me.

My heart clinches hard and I wish for a moment that I was the kind of man that could just take justice into my own hands...this is too much like Corey for my comfort...

(MightyMoose) :::sigh::: okay...so what else happened?

(hongkongfooey) Tol ya. Lost a day. Went with this guy... He smelled like...my guy. Leather. Too nice.

(MightyMoose) okay...half-naked in the snow...do you know how you got there?

(hongkongfooey) He took me to a party an there were a lot of other guys there. Couldn't find my shirt.

(MightyMoose) yeah...what else?

(hongkongfooey) Borrowed the leather jacket. Went out to go home, and they followed, I think. Took the jacket back. Didn't matter anyway. Wasn't really his. He looked so fucking good in that leather.

(MightyMoose) okay...what else?

(hongkongfooey) You writing the book, man? Just leave it.

I'm starting to get frustrated now...and I still don't know why it matters so much to me; except maybe that I need to know that I can still help someone like Fooey...it may be all I have left now.

(MightyMoose) quit dicking around...why won't you tell me?

(hongkongfooey) It's all screwed. I'm a mess, and I lost my love. That's all there is. What else could there be?

(MightyMoose) right. You're drinking, drugging and partying...and you won't tell me what happened with the guy.

(hongkongfooey) READ THESE WRODS. I. DON'T. REMEMBER.

I have to back off a bit, but I think he'll stay and talk to me anyway...he needs somebody to talk to, or else he wouldn't have IM'ed me...

(MightyMoose) did you know him?

(hongkongfooey) Nope. Din't know him. He fucked me though. They all did. Could tell after. You get this certain pain in the butt. Oh, hell yeah...this is way too much like Corey. I don't want to ask, but I know I will anyway...

(MightyMoose) any protection?

(hongkongfooey) Don't think so. Was oozing come.

Oh my god. I'm speechless and shaky for a long moment, and there is a nagging buzz at the back of my mind that tells me I'm missing something important here; but since I can't figure out what, I turn my attention back to the screen and type the first thing that comes to mind...

(MightyMoose) fuck.

(hongkongfooey) You got that right.

(MightyMoose) did you get checked out?

(hongkongfooey) The Dragon Lady sent me for testing. Dunno if I can be called healthy though. Waiting.

Well, at least his girlfriend's not completely stupid...she's a stone-cold bitch, but not stupid...

(hongkongfooey) Why would I care? I don't like the tone of that question...it's too final...

(MightyMoose) why wouldn't you?

(hongkongfooey) Don't see the point any more

(MightyMoose) the point is that somebody somewhere cares about you...your man?

(hongkongfooey) He hates me.

(MightyMoose) how do you know?

(hongkongfooey) Doesn't want to look at me any more. He'd have to. I betrayed him. Betrayesd us both.

A sudden anger flares up in me, and subsides just as quickly. My situation is different, and I know I have no right to preach to Fooey about what he should be doing when I can't even take care of my own life...

(MightyMoose) does he know about any of this?

(hongkongfooey) Don't know. I don't know what to do.

(MightyMoose) you said the girlfriend forced you back with her...does he know that?

(hongkongfooey) Yeah. He looked at me like I killed him. Maybe I did.

Again, something nags at me as I read this, but I can't figure out what. Thinking of the situation between Mac and me, I try to give Fooey the wisdom of a jilted lover's perspective...

(MightyMoose) maybe he's trying to give you what he thinks you need...

(hongkongfooey) I need? What do I need?

(hongkongfooey) Can't do this any more.

(MightyMoose) can't do what...live?

(hongkongfooey) Guess so. You're perceptive.

Oh, that's rich. If I was so fucking perceptive, I would have figured out how to keep Mac with me without alienating him from LiAnn...I hate the fact that he needs her, loves her, more than he does me...and I guess it makes me the one that's pathetic...

(MightyMoose) :::snort::: hardly...

(hongkongfooey) Bet you're happy. Bet you never had to put up with this kind of crap in your life.

(MightyMoose) oh yeah...ducky...

(hongkongfooey) ?

(MightyMoose) my lover...*ex* lover hates me...I fell so head over heels...and then it exploded in my face...

(hongkongfooey) She does? Why? What did you do?

I grin ferally at the assumption that the lover I speak of is female, but since I don't feel like sharing all of the details of my sorry life, I let it stand.

(MightyMoose) I fucked up.

(hongkongfooey) Hah. Join the club. There should be a club for us fuck-ups.

I guess a bit of levity wouldn't hurt right about now...

(MightyMoose) there is...Fuck-ups Anonymous... <g> I'm a charter member...meetings every tuesday...

(hongkongfooey) Guess I need to join then. Does she hate you now?

Well, there's a question for you, Victor old boy. Does he? It sure feels like he does...

(MightyMoose) :::sigh::: oh, yeah...can't even stand to be in the same room w/me...

(hongkongfooey) What did YOU do?

(MightyMoose) like I said, I fucked up...I lost something important...I got it back...but it's too late...

(hongkongfooey) So you reckon to grin and bear the heartache?

(MightyMoose) fuck grinning...I can't pretend I'm okay when I'm not...but after living w/my dad and seeing what his drinking did to him, I can't do that either...

(hongkongfooey) I know what you mean. Aren't you tempted to get stoned out of your mine/?

(MightyMoose) hell yeah...but then I see my dad's face and remember the hell he put all of us through...I swore I'd never be like that, ya know?

(hongkongfooey) Wish I could stop, man. I hate everything.

(MightyMoose) you can. it's easy. just put it down and walk away...

(hongkongfooey) I can't. I've got nothing left to walk towards. You make it sound so easy... Hmmmph...that's a joke...

(MightyMoose) yeah? well, I can tell you that it fucking *isn't*...my baby's so fucking unhappy...and I want to just kill...somebody...but I can't...

(hongkongfooey) Wanna help me out here? Why don't you just go get her? Love her?

Yeah, why don't I? Why am I letting it stay like this? Then the memory of Mac pushing me away when LiAnn was missing pulls me up short...

(MightyMoose) can't...it's not up to me. choice isn't mine to make...

(hongkongfooey) She has a husband?

(MightyMoose) something like that...somebody that means more than I ever could...

(hongkongfooey) Well I'll tell you what... We should go out together and cry in each other's milk.

(MightyMoose) yeah?

(hongkongfooey) You can stop me from drinking too much and I can give you hints on how to get her back. I'm just great with the women...unfortunately. I should start a bloody lonely hearts club.

(MightyMoose) bud, I can't stop you from doing anything...but I can tell you why you shouldn't be doing it... <g>

Well, I've got him thinking beyond himself and his misery at least. Let's see if I can get a little more...

(MightyMoose) are you still doing any drugs?

(hongkongfooey) Why do you care?

(MightyMoose) because I do...I'm just that way...for all the good it does me...

(hongkongfooey) Well, Tuesdays you said. <g> We can have a rally. March on the computer dating service...

(MightyMoose) yeah... :::sigh::: I guess your avoidance answers the question...my baby used to do it too... <g>

(hongkongfooey) What did she do? Avoid? They all do that.,

(MightyMoose) yeah...I miss it, you know? Miss a lot of things...

(hongkongfooey) Me too. Miss his voice the most. It's this lovely, growly, soft voice...like velvet on the ears.

(hongkongfooey) Think I need to go to bed.

(MightyMoose) you should...

(hongkongfooey) Think about it. I don't smoke. Used to be fit. Wanted to be fit. Now, I just don't care.

(MightyMoose) but I know it's hard to care right now. You want to tell the whole fucking world to piss off... <g>

(MightyMoose) I'm a decent guy...I try to be a good person...I'm not Charles Manson...so why do I always wind up alone?

(hongkongfooey) Well, baby, nice guys finish last. If you quit caring, all of a sudden they want you.

(MightyMoose) yeah...but I could never be that cold...it's not who I am...

(hongkongfooey) Hey, man, I know. You seem like a pretty nice guy. I don't know what to tell you.

(MightyMoose) but the thing that scares me most is that I can feel myself dying inside...it hurts...I can feel it creeping in...

(hongkongfooey) I feel the same. you feel like you lost the whole direction.

(MightyMoose) that's it...I don't know who I am anymore...for that one little minute, I knew...and then it was all gone...how could that happen?

(hongkongfooey) I know. I know only too well. Feels like someone gets into you with a knife.

(MightyMoose) I don't understand it...I mean, if she truly loved him, I could accept it...but she doesn't. I hate having to watch my baby be so fucking miserable, and I can't avoid it...

(hongkongfooey) He? She? Who? If she's miserable, what's the problem.

(MightyMoose) She doesn't love him. it's a complicated situation...

...And that's just about the understatement of the century...

(hongkongfooey) Just make her come back to you. Tell her to get a divorce. Life's too short.

(MightyMoose) they're not married...but they're wound up in each other...so much so that they could never be completely free of each other...which would be okay, if she truly loved him.

(hongkongfooey) Well in that case, I don't see the problem, unless he's blackmailing her. If he is, the cops should know about it. Hey, I have an idea. Why don't I kill him for you? That way, she'll be free for you, and if I get caught, hell, what difference does it make?

(MightyMoose) she does in a way; I know she loves me too, but she's so dependant on him...even when he wasn't there she was...and she doesn't know how to make it be any other way...What?? don't even think about it...

(hongkongfooey) No? But it would solve everything.

(MightyMoose) yeah. except for the guilt I'd suffer after you went to jail...

(hongkongfooey) Hey, man, I don't care. I've been in jail before. It's not so bad.

(MightyMoose) yeah? well I do. I appreciate the thought, though. :::snort::: so have I. I don't want to go back. it sucked. I was *not* Mr. Popularity. half of them wanted to kill me, the other half wanted to fuck me...then kill me.

(hongkongfooey) You too, huh? We have a lot in common. You got a particularly peachy ass, or are you an informant?

(MightyMoose) <g> well, I think it's kinda cute, but that's just me.

(hongkongfooey) Hey, I have to go to bed. My head's spinning a little. Don't feel so good.

Okay...this time I'm gonna do it and he's not gonna sidetrack me again...it's a Devil's bargain I'm making here, but I still have to try...I don't really expect him to quit doing what he's doing, but maybe having to commit to someone will be enough to make him start thinking about wanting to again...

(MightyMoose) yeah...you should...will you do something for me?

(hongkongfooey) Sure, if I can. What?

(MightyMoose) will you give up the drugs? just the drugs? you can still drink...please?

(hongkongfooey) Oh, fuck, man. I guess I can do that. I can try, anyway.

(MightyMoose) just try it for a day or two...maybe if you can function without them, you'll start finding out that it isn't as bad as you thought...

(hongkongfooey) ::shaking head:: It's worse.

(MightyMoose) I know it's hard...

(hongkongfooey) That's just where you're wrong. It hasn't been hard since he and I were last together. I don't think it will ever work again.

(MightyMoose) I know exactly what you mean.

(hongkongfooey) I have to go now. Not feeling great.

(MightyMoose) okay...get some rest.

(hongkongfooey) Yeah. You too. See ya.

(MightyMoose) see ya...

It's been a couple of days, and I've been going stir-crazy here. The Director was quite emphatic about me taking another week off; but with the weather, there hasn't been very much to do and I'm ready to climb the walls. There are too many memories of Mac here, and being alone with them is doing nothing for my peace of mind. I'm having nightmares: ones about Mac being gang-raped while I look on and sliding into a hellish oblivion where I'm feeding poison into his veins as I suck the breath from his lungs in a horrible parody of the kisses we used to share. I woke screaming from the last one...and the vision of Mac with hundreds of spent needles hanging out of every possible patch of skin, begging me to help him, is still making me shudder.

I finally realize the impetus for the nightmares while I'm brewing coffee. Fooey hasn't been online for the past couple of days and I'm beginning to really worry about him. Since we've never met face to face, it's only natural for my subconscious to give my worry a familiar visage. After all, I'm worrying about Mac too.

So, even though I swore I wouldn't--again, I called Mac earlier. Didn't say anything, didn't leave a message, just listened to his voice on the answering machine. Pathetic, huh? I really should just get on with my life, but I can't. When I told Mac there wouldn't be anyone else after him, I didn't know how right I was.

Baby, please be okay. I don't want to see you suffer.

I grab the fresh pack of cigarettes, the first I've bought in eight years, and move toward my desk. When I see the icon flashing, my heart gives an unexpected jump. He's alive at least...

(MightyMoose) hey...there you are...what's going on?

(hongkongfooey) Hmmm? Not much. How's things with you?

(MightyMoose) about the same.

(hongkongfooey) Yeah. Nothing changes.

(MightyMoose) how are you? how are you holding up?

(hongkongfooey) I'm okay, I guess. Doin' anything interesting lately?

(MightyMoose) not a damn thing...off work for a little while...

(hongkongfooey) Yeah? Holiday?

(MightyMoose) nope. had an accident at work...

(hongkongfooey) Oh, shit. Not good. What happened?

(MightyMoose) did something stupid...no big deal...I'm still walking, talking and breathing...<g> what about you?

(hongkongfooey) I guess that's good then. Wish I was. Well, I haven't really been out much in the last couple of days. Somehow don't feel like it.

(MightyMoose) :::sigh::: still drinking?

(hongkongfooey) A little.

(MightyMoose) and the rest?

(hongkongfooey) Look, far be it from me to start an argument, but you're starting to sound like my boss, and that ain't good.

(MightyMoose) hey, it's cool. I'm just concerned. speaking of which...how are you dealing with work?

(hongkongfooey) Got time off to recover from a particularly nasty incident that happened a little while back.

(MightyMoose) do I want to know?

(hongkongfooey) It's not something I can talk about.

(MightyMoose) no problem. so how long are you off for?

(hongkongfooey) Couple more days. The boss wants me in, day after tomorrow, whatever that is...How about you?

(MightyMoose) I go back beginning of next week...gotta tell you, though, I'm not used to this much enforced inactivity...

(hongkongfooey) Me either. Don't know quite what's happened to me. Lifestyles of the rich and famous, huh?

(MightyMoose) yeah...

(hongkongfooey) Sit back, suck a beer and watch WWF on the TV. Bunch of shit!

(MightyMoose) i hate TV...rots your brain...

(hongkongfooey) There ya go. I never had one, so I'm safe.

(MightyMoose) so what do you do for entertainment?

(hongkongfooey) Nothin'. What is there? Been getting my collection of belly button lint in order.

(MightyMoose) Books, music, art? LOL! that must be interesting...

(hongkongfooey) Oh, you have no idea. Has a race with a couple of woodlice yesterday. I won!

An idea suddenly strikes me, and I decide to run with it...

(MightyMoose) you need to get out more...I was thinking...

(hongkongfooey) Careful. Isn't there some safety device you need when you do that?

(MightyMoose) funny. where do you live?

(hongkongfooey) Downtown Toronto. Why?

(MightyMoose) Really? so do I...look, I don't usually do this kind of thing; but I'm going stir- crazy...and you sound like you need to get out in the fresh air...you want to meet somewhere? Somewhere neutral and crowded...

(hongkongfooey) What's with this fresh air thing? You don't fancy a club? A little pool, a beer or two? It's snowed, you know. Cold.

Hm. Nice try, bud. But you'll never get me into another club again...you get your heart ripped out in those places...

(MightyMoose) I'm not into the club thing...had a bad experience...

(hongkongfooey) Well, better make it Starbucks, unless you wanna re-enact "Sleepless in Seattle" and use the CN Tower.

Gawd, not there either...Christ, does everything have to remind me of Mac? Then I remember that the Van Gogh exhibit is in town. I wanted to see it, and it's the kind of place that's ideal for a meeting like this...

(MightyMoose) You like art? there's an exhibit...

(hongkongfooey) What kind of an exhibit?

(MightyMoose) Van Gogh...

(hongkongfooey) Starry Night, and that kind of thing? Hmmm.

(MightyMoose) yeah...interested?

(hongkongfooey) ::shrug:: Sure. Why not. It's not like my engagement calendar is full.

(MightyMoose) okay...when?

I cannot believe I'm doing this...what the hell is wrong with me? Still, it's not like it's a clandestine meeting. I can always slip out if it's not what I expect...

(hongkongfooey) Hmmm? Well I guess it needs to be tomorrow if we're gonna do it. I may be back in work after that., Tomorrow afternoon?

(MightyMoose) sure...how will I know you?

(hongkongfooey) I'll bring all of my lint?

(MightyMoose) :::laughing::: yeah, okay...what else?

(hongkongfooey) Ummm... I'm tall. 6'4". And skinny. And I'll wear a yellow turtle neck under a brown suede jacket. Hair's black, and.... ummm. I have big feet. You? You gonna amaze me by being a 20 year old blonde with huge boobs?

Yeah, right. I'm an ex-mob princess too...

(MightyMoose) you wish. i'm 6'1...dark hair...be wearing a brown leather bomber...

(hongkongfooey) Okay. I'll tower over you then. That will make me feel superior.

(MightyMoose) whatever you need to get your self-esteem up...

(hongkongfooey) Fuck. you sound like a damned pop psychologist.

(MightyMoose) :::shrug::: never underestimate the power of a good pop...

(hongkongfooey) :::snort::: Ha, ha. So I'll meet you at the Van Gogh exhibit?

(MightyMoose) Yeah. What time?

(hongkongfooey) Hmmmm...around 2?

(MightyMoose) Two's fine. I'm kinda tired now. See you tomorrow?

(hongkongfooey) Yeah. go to sleep...take care of yourself.

(MightyMoose) You too...'night...

(hongkongfooey) Night...

I check my watch, and then look around again.

Not seeing anyone fitting the description I was given, I turn back to my exhibit pamphlet and try to absorb the information on the page. It's only been five minutes, so I think I'll wait a little longer before...

"Hey there..."

I freeze at the familiar voice. I'd know it anywhere. My heart stutters, then beats triple time. Suddenly, I want to throw myself at Mac's feet and beg forgiveness, to kiss him endlessly and tell him how very sorry I am for everything and that I'll do anything just to be *friends* again; but I don't. I sit gaping at him like a beached fish instead.

"Sorry I'm..." He trails off into confused silence. He isn't the only one who is.

"Uhm, hey..." Oh, that's real intelligent..."what's going on?"

"I...er... I didn't expect to see you here... Er...how are you? Are you feeling better?" Mac is uncomfortable, because of me, and I'm dying inside at the realization.

No, I'm not, I think sadly, I miss you and I hurt. But if I tell him that, any chance we have for a friendship is dust. "A little. My throat's still a bit sore. What are you doing here?"

"Hey, you know me and culture." Mac laughs, but it's a forced laugh and I cringe inside. "How about you? You developing a love of the arts?"

"Something like that. I wanted to see the Van Gogh exhibit." Baby, you're so thin...isn't LiAnn taking care of you?

"I... I have to admit I prefer Rembrandt, but Van Gogh had an eye for color..."

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" I whisper very softly, "Just like you." I'm not looking at him as I say this, and I'm pretty confident that the words will be lost in the general hubbub of activity.

He confirms this with his next words. "Guess I'll sit down for a minute. I'm supposed to meet someone. Seen anyone looking lost?" Mac sits, leaving a space between the two of us and I have to stifle a small sigh.

"No, not really," I turn my head away to hide my pain at Mac's statement, then shake it off. Mac isn't mine anymore. "I'm waiting for somebody too," I belatedly remember my meeting with Fooey and look around, hoping that the other hasn't been scared off seeing me sitting here with Mac like this.

"Guess I shouldn't keep you then. When do you come back to work?"

"Beginning of next week. You?"

"Think she wants me in tomorrow, but I don't know..."

He trails off and I look over at my love, see him staring with growing horror...then realize what's been nagging me since I saw him come up... Mac is wearing a yellow turtleneck...and a brown suede jacket. Oh my god, oh my god...Mac is...Fooey.

His gaze is suddenly hard and accusing. "You wouldn't happen to be the Mighty Moose, would you?"

I gasp. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be...but I know in my heart that it is and suddenly everything drops into place with a gut-wrenching click. Oh my god, baby, how could I not have known? "H- how do you know that?"

"You know something, I couldn't make a right decision if my life depended on it," he snarls, "I don't believe this. Come on, Vic, you can't be that dumb."

"You're who I've been chatting with?" Jesus, I wish my mouth would catch up with my brain!

Mac hangs his head. When he speaks, it's like hearing the lost and lonely child he used to be and it breaks my heart into a million pieces. "Guess you know more about me than you really wanted to, huh?"

I'm awestruck. This is fate, it has to be, and it's been a long time since I've fought fate where Malcolm Ramsey is concerned. "Come with me," I rasp, reaching for his hand. Mac--my sweet baby Malcolm, keeper of my heart and soul--is finally coming home to me. I can feel it, and I won't accept anything less.

But it would seem that he has other ideas as he laughs in a somewhat hysterical manner and scoots out of my easy reach. "Oh, I don't think so."

No...oh, no...he doesn't get to backpedal out of this If I can't fight it, then I won't let him either. "Oh, yes...right now. Don't push me, Malcolm." After all, he came to me first, even when neither of us knew it.

"So you've gotten some woman pregnant, have you, Victor?" Mac flares at me. "Push you? I'm not touching you!" He holds his palms up and open in a defensive gesture.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" confused, I'm struggling to keep my voice down inside the museum, but we've gotten a few strange looks from passersby as we argue in hushed tones.

"Come on... *Moose!*" he growls sarcastically. "You were bemoaning the fact that you'd gotten this woman of yours pregnant. Think I'd forget something like that?"

Then I realize; I never told Mac that it was a man I was talking about, I'd let him assume that it was a woman. But I knew I'd never said anything about getting somebody pregnant. Then I remember... "No. That was you...although come to think of it, you never said that. My dad was right."

"Your Dad? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Never assume: it makes an ass out of you and me. Let's go." I grab Mac's arm, and quail at the thinness of it. "We need to get some things straight, you and I."

"Go? Go where?" Mac fights to pull away, but when an attendant begins to approach us with menace in his gait, he permits me to lead him away from the hall.

"Home," is the simple response. He's coming home, and I feel the realization of it singing in my veins, making me dizzy and high.

Perversely, Mac stops short outside the museum. "Home? Don't be doing this to me, Victor."

"Doing what?" I ask in genuine confusion. "Everything that's happened has been because you wanted it."

He struggles again and I drag him into a small alleyway and out of sight. "Nothing that's happened is because I wanted it. Nothing. You're mad," he's babbling and I can see the panic in his face as he tries to back out yet again.

"You kissed me. You kissed me first," I growl with feral helplessness as I lean into his space, remembering our very first time together in the back of my truck, "you're the one who walked away." I'm feeling very dangerous, trembling on the brink of...something. I don't know what, but the one thing I'm sure of is that Mac is coming home with me today one way or another. I'll lose the last dregs of my humanity if he doesn't.

"I did what? What are you talking about, Mansfield?"

Mac's eyes are wide and scared and it's all I can do not to wrap myself around him and fuck both of us into oblivion. I need him that desperately. It makes me harsher than I should be. "You walked away from me to go back to her. Didn't you? Answer me!"

"I... I... I can't, Vic..."

"You can't? Why? You don't love her. You said you loved me," I gamble with reminding him of our anonymous chat of a few nights ago. "Were you lying to me, my baby?" I can't help the soft, seductive note in my voice as I speak. It's always there when I call him mine and will be until the day I die. But Mac doesn't answer, just closes his eyes and turns his head away. His body is starting to shake, but I can't give in until he tells me the truth. I need to know where I stand with him before we can go forward in any direction. "Answer. Me. Now!" I force his head back. "Do you really want to see how far I can be pushed, baby?"

Mac backs up until he's against the wall of the gallery and tries to shove me away from him. "Just leave me be, Vic, please...," but I hold him off easily, and spare a pang for the muscle mass he's let go to waste.

"I can't, baby. If I thought you were happy, I'd be able to, but you're not and it's tearing me up inside. You're killing me, Mac. Don't you understand that?"

Mac looks at me, stricken. He opens his mouth and then closes it again without saying anything. He shakes his head from side to side as though to make it all go away. "For God's sake, Vic..."

"I'm dying, baby," I beg pitifully, "dying a slow painful death because you're killing yourself. Don't you know that?" I gently kiss Mac and then kiss him again...the shuddering in his body intensifies, and he whimpers as my lips touch his cold skin. "I love you, and unless you can look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love me, you are coming home with me if I have to drag you by the hair. Don't test me right now. I've had all I can stand." I need to love you baby...I need you...please...can't breathe without you...

"I can't," he whispers miserably. "I love you, but I..."

"But what?" I whisper, trying to coax him into opening up to me.

"So I love you. So what?" Mac snarls, angry now. "So fucking what? You think that I could live with myself if..." He stops speaking, and hugs his own body. "It just can't happen any more, can it? You understand, don't you?" he asks plaintively.

"If what? What can't? Tell me," I'm talking over him and his last question drains the last of my patience. "No, I don't fucking 'understand.' Spell it out for me."

He flinches from my vehemence even as he tries to answer the question. "LiAnn... You know what she did... I can't cause her death." Mac hangs his head, the epitome of misery, and I vow that our ex-lover will make this up to both of us. She will beg on her knees for our forgiveness before all of this is over.

For now, I have to try and get my baby to see reason. I close my eyes and lay my head against Mac's shoulder, snuggling into his neck and smelling the sour poison in his system as it slowly seeps from his skin. "So you'd let her kill you instead? And I'm supposed to just accept this?" I ask gently.

"I guess that way I wouldn't be committing murder."

I almost break down sobbing at those words, and wonder how I can reach him--how I can fight this programming that's killing both of us. Desperate, I look up at him with unshed tears in my eyes and say in the steadiest voice I can manage, "I can't accept this. I won't. I shouldn't have to, and neither you nor LiAnn can make me."

"I don't understand," he frowns at me in his confusion, "what are you going to do?"

"You're coming with me, Mac. I don't care what I have to do to make you, but you are. You are going to eat, and then we can figure out how to make this work."

"For fuck's sake, Victor, quit turning the knife. It hurts enough as it is."

He's snarling again, but we both know I'm more than a match for him in his current condition. "You don't get it. You're the one turning the knife, with a little help from LiAnn. It stops now. I'm done with being the one who has to sacrifice..."

"You think?" Mac screams at me, spit flying in his rage. "You think you're the only one that's suffering? You think you're the only one who's lost anything?"

I feel my gaze turn hard and watch him flinch away again. "I love you, I want you, and I need you, so I'm taking you back, and LiAnn is going to have to deal," I inform him calmly, leaving no room for doubt as to my meaning.

Mac stares at me for a very long moment. "I don't know. I can't think any more." His voice is very quiet, and I have to strain to hear the soft words.

"I've lost a lot in my life, Mac, and I refuse to lose you too. I'm asking you one more time, come home with me. Please. That's all I ask. If you ever loved me, you'll give me that." Well, I said I'd do anything and I guess that means stooping to LiAnn's level and using emotional blackmail too. Suddenly, Mac's eyes fill and he slumps, but he doesn't say anything. He merely lays his head down on my shoulder for a minute.

I feel like such a shit, but know that I won't stop pushing until I get what I need--Mac in my arms and happy once more. "Please," I beg again as I stroke his soft hair, which is slowly turning brittle from the garbage in his system. "Just to talk. We need to talk about this," and talk we will, but I can't promise that we won't do anything else. I just hope he doesn't call me on it.

Mac shudders under my touch. "How can you want me...want this after what's happened?" Again, he sounds like that lost and lonely child and I crush him to me, wanting to absorb all of his pain into myself and let him heal at last.

Instead, I kiss the tears away and revel in the warmth that his thin frame is radiating. I never fully realized how cold it's been without him until right now. "Shhhhh. We can talk about it at home...just know that I do want you, that I still love you...believe in that for me."

I pull back to look him straight in the eyes and say, "It's time to come home, baby." That seems to be too much for Mac. He slides his arms around me and holds on tight, pressing his face into my shoulder. I hear a long pitiful sob, and then he's still. I stroke and soothe him, desperate to get him home and safe before I wake up and find out this has all been just a dream--maybe the cruelest one yet. "We'll figure it all out, I promise. Let's go."

It takes a minute, but finally, Mac raises his face, pale and blind, and gazes at me. "It's going to hurt, Vic," he whispers, "it's going to hurt us so bad..."

"What is?" I ask gently, even though I think I know what he's going to say.

"All of this. There are no easy solutions, if we try to change things."

"Shhh...We'll get through it together. I know she loves you deep down; she can't possibly want to see you suffer like this anymore."

Mac nods slowly and exhales, then he takes my hand. "She knows that I can't be her lover any more."

I know my confusion is written all over my face, but decide to hold off on questions until later. "Let's go."

Mac:

Sometimes I wonder why. I mean, why are we given things just to have them taken away? Why the hell do we spend all of our lives wishing, and wanting, and knowing that it's all pointless? I wanted LiAnn for so long, I can still taste the flavor of longing inside my mind. I would have given up everything to have her back in my arms, and of course, she'd moved on to someone else.

Time passed, and I suddenly realized that I didn't want her any more. I wanted her ex-lover. That was weird. I mean, he's a guy, right? He's a guy, and so am I, and wanting another guy isn't exactly something I ever expected to happen. You have to see him, to know him, to know just why I love him.

Victor. I want to write his name on furniture, to scribble it in the sand for people to read. I actually carved it into a tree... 'Mac loves Vic' God help me! It's true; I love him, for better or worse...

For worse, as it turns out. See, just when I thought that I had what I wanted, I found that everything had gone to hell, and I had to turn away from it. Vic loves me, I know he does, and me, well I adore him. I feel sick thinking about the way he makes me feel inside. It hurts me, because I can't have him.

You're gonna think that I'm some kind of idiot for this, but it turns out that I have to take LiAnn after all, and now of course I don't want to. I want Vic. I want him, and I can't have him because I have to take LiAnn or she'll do something drastic to herself. Besides, my family had these expectations of me, of us. I don't expect you to understand. I barely understand it myself. All I know is that if I don't dance attendance on LiAnn, she's gonna go off and do something totally stupid, and possibly - probably - life threatening.

When Vic was in the hospital to begin with I went there every day. I hung around outside his door, waiting for news on how he was doing, and wanting more than anything to go inside that damned door and take him in my arms, but I couldn't. I couldn't do it to him. After a few days I stopped, because I knew that it was stupid. I hadn't got any right to him.

I couldn't go inside and face him because I knew what I'd done to him. I went home and I sat and stared for a while. Then I opened a bottle of Jim Beam and I drank it.

When LiAnn came over a little while later, she tut-tutted at me for getting myself potted, but she tidied up and put me to bed. I woke up to feel her snug against my back, and for a moment my heart leapt. When I rolled over to kiss my Victor awake, it was LiAnn lying there next to me and I knew right then that it was all too late.

I got through a lot of booze, I don't mind telling you. It helped to keep the pain away, and gave me moments of forgetfulness. LiAnn tried to snap me out of it, and didn't really manage it. The Director came and went. I was drunk, and the whole thing was just too funny. She went away as well. Booze wasn't doing it for me so I went out to see a friend of mine - someone who was left over from my days with the Tang. Jackie could probably tell you more about him than me. That is, if you can get the silly bitch to shut up long enough to ask her the question.

So I got my miracle pills. A couple of these, washed down with booze, and I don't hurt so badly any more. They call them 'ecstasy', but I tell you, they should be called 'survival.' I began taking them when I couldn't stand real life any more... not all the time, just two or three times a week. They helped me. When I was under the influence, I wasn't lonely any more. I felt contented, and lord knows, I needed that any way I could get it.

The day Victor came out of the hospital was somehow a turning point. LiAnn had been sleeping over at my place since I'd pulled Vic down from that cross. She said that she owed me her life and that she wanted us to get back together and take up where we left off. I knew she was full of shit, but somehow I just couldn't make myself worry. If Vic was no longer mine, what did I care who? I'd done all of this for LiAnn, hadn't I? If I didn't keep pandering to her, she'd kill herself, wouldn't she? I knew that I wouldn't be able to live with that guilt.

Victor? He was strong. He'd go on. He was safe now, and I could make sure that he'd stay that way. LiAnn? She needed me. I couldn't shake off the knowledge that she had almost died because of my stupid, fucking lust.

We went to the hospital. I'd intended to drive Vic home and have a little talk with him. I wanted to see him. God, how I wanted to see him. I phoned to tell the Director I would take Vic home, and then got ready to go pick him up. LiAnn wouldn't go away. She wouldn't let me go to the hospital alone.

"We're a team, Mac. It's only right that we all go and bring our partner home. He means a lot to me." I could see that she meant it. I could see that there was no way she was going to let me be alone with him, too. I finally shrugged, popped a couple of my survival pills, and drove to the hospital with LiAnn in tow.

Seeing him for the first time since I'd rescued him twisted the knife in my gut. He looked at me as though he wanted to hit me. I've never seen that look on his face before, but it told me right enough that it was over between us, and that he couldn't forgive me for choosing LiAnn's needs over his. I think I choked. I know that I couldn't say anything, and LiAnn pulled me from the room pretty fast. She must have thought that I was going to cry or something. I said that I'd go get the car and I went. Stupid how one goes on automatic at that sort of time, isn't it?

I brought it around to the door and got out to find Vic, and suddenly he was there, walking past me and out of the door with Jackie in tow. I stopped dead in my tracks and watched them head for the sunlight, leaving me behind. Then, I turned and plodded back into the hospital to look for LiAnn. She was sobbing in the room where Victor had been, and sniffed broken heartedly as I called to her. She tried to tell me that Vic had been mean to her, but I wasn't listening. I was still seeing his eyes, dark with pain, and the light all gone from them. I was telling myself that I did it to him.

I was numb. Back at my apartment I took another pill and some vodka. There was no whisky left, but alcohol is alcohol, right? Then I lay down. I think I slept, because I dreamed that Vic was here with me, in the bed, doing things to me that made me hard and telling me in his husky voice all the things he'd missed about me, calling me Malcolm. Nobody else in the world calls me that, so I knew that it was him. Even my Dad calls me Mac.

I lost myself in the sweet sensation of arousal, and as he stroked my dick, mouthed it and told me how beautiful it was, I spread myself for him, expecting him to roll me over and sink himself into me the way he usually did. He moved up to brush my mouth with his lips, and told me that he wanted me inside him, the way it had been the night LiAnn was taken, and that made my dick pulse, I can tell you.

I felt him climb onto me, and sink himself down on my cock until he was pressed tight to my thighs and the two of us were joined so closely that there was no way we'd ever be able to stop. When he began to move on me, it was wonderful. His muscles milked me, drawing the fluid from my balls and the tingling sweet pleasure through from the base of my spine to the end of my dick.

I think my muscles were rigid as I poured myself out into his welcoming body, and I know that I screamed. I cried his name, and told him how much I loved him, needed him and how sorry I was. I whispered it again and again.

"Vic, my Victor, my love."

Then, feeling the sudden cold as he drew away from me, I opened my eyes.

LiAnn. It was LiAnn, and she'd fucked me. She'd fucked me up. She didn't say another word to me; she merely dressed herself and left. Me? I stayed behind, and went to hell.

I wasn't eating. I definitely wasn't working out, and for some reason I couldn't seem to get an erection any more. The Director had hauled me in for an examination and some stupid psychological testing that probably told her in words of many syllables what she probably knew without even asking, namely that I was fucked up and didn't care any more. I was given a diet sheet, a regime of exercises to follow, and told I had a couple of weeks to get myself back in shape.

Yeah, right.

I laid back and proceeded to ignore the world. I don't recall too much about the days that followed. I know that I watched the TV, and actually remember sobbing my heart out when they showed "West Side Story" one afternoon. The world fucks you up, and I was starting to think that I'd never again know happiness.

So I felt sorry for myself. So sue me.

I think that about ten days had gone by, with my brain in a fog, and no motivation to do anything except lie in my bed and try not to think about the things I'd lost. I was watching the stupid television again, and there was some puerile confrontational chat show on with a couple coming to blows because the guy had had an affair with a male colleague. I watched with growing unease, and when the woman started to talk about her partner's betrayal, I lost it. I kicked out, and my television set exploded, showering the apartment with shards of glass, and peppering my naked skin with scores and slashes.

Once the television was out of commission, I turned to my computer. I started to dial in to the local server - 'Toronto Now' and got into chatroom fisticuffs over the Leafs' prospects a couple of times. Gradually I'd begun to find myself chatting more and more to a guy who called himself Mighty Moose although he'd been unaccountably missing for days now.

I started to get on line whenever I couldn't sleep, and soon found it a solace to talk to these people I couldn't see, and knew that I'd never meet. That brings me to tonight. It's 2am and I'm wired. There are too many thoughts going through my head, and not enough space in the world for me to outrun them. I boot up the computer and log in to Toronto Now. Then I type in my invitation, and sit back to wait for someone to help me beat this loneliness.

Anyone out there?

When I return to the keyboard, bearing a large brandy, I see that he's back.

(MightyMoose) Hey! Long time, no see...what's up?

Oh, terrific. I suddenly feel a rush of affection for these little blue lights on my screen. It feels so good to make some kind of contact with someone who doesn't want to make me do something for them. I type in my reply, wondering if it will scare him off.

(hongkongfooey) Is that the polite form, or do you really want to know?

(MightyMoose) Touchy...I'd really like to know...

(hongkongfooey) Got masochistic tendencies, do ya?

(MightyMoose) Hey, you know me...pain, and lots of it... <g>

I shrug my shoulders. Okay, bud, you wanted to know. I'll tell you. Maybe it will help me to talk about it with someone who has no axe to grind. I grit my teeth and try to phrase things so that they sound plaintive, but not needy.

(hongkongfooey) Everything in my life seems to have fucked itself up. I'll join you in hell, shall I?

Oh, well. Failed again. Still, I think it says it all, don't you?

(MightyMoose) Yeah. So what's going on?

I sigh, and take a seat. He wants to know. I'll tell him. It will feel good to tell someone.

(hongkongfooey) I seem to have talked myself out of the best thing in the world, 'n into slavery.

(MightyMoose) The boss eat you for breakfast again?

He thinks I'm talking about work. Damn. If only I could go back to the days when work was all that pissed me off. It was so damned ridiculous to get mad about it. It's true. You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

(hongkongfooey) I wish that was all it was. This is so far beyond that, I need a telescope. Tell me this, have you ever been in love? I mean really in love?

(MightyMoose) :::sigh::: Yes. Very, very much in love...with the last person I ever expected to be...why?

(hongkongfooey) Because I've just managed to talk myself out of being with the love of my life...

This is where he excuses himself and runs like hell.

(MightyMoose) Damn. Talk to me...what happened?

No? Well let's put it all out there. How's this for a whammy?

(hongkongfooey) Ah...How do you feel about gays?

(MightyMoose) :::frown::: What do you mean? Do I have a problem w/it? No...I mean, you love who you love, right?

Oh, man! He understands. I can talk to him.

(hongkongfooey) Right. ::sigh:: thas the prob. I fell for the most gorgeous guy you ever saw...And hid it from him for months.

(MightyMoose) Yeah? Why? He had a problem w/it?

Now I've got someone to talk to, I suddenly don't know what to say to him any more.

(hongkongfooey) My guy-I suddenly found out that he loved me right back. How cool was that?

(MightyMoose) Really? that's great!

I picture Vic, the night that we lost each other, looking so incredibly hot in his leather. If he were here now... If he were here now I wouldn't be fucking about with anonymous chat rooms. I'm tearing up as I type.

(hongkongfooey) And he... oh, man, you gotta see him. He's more than I deserve.

(MightyMoose) Yeah? <eg> Tell me...

(hongkongfooey) So I had to fuck it all up, didn' I?

(hongkongfooey) See, it's wrong.

(MightyMoose) What? What's wrong?

(hongkongfooey) Can't be having ttoo much fun. 'swrong. So I can't have hm

My tumbler's empty. I wander out and find another drink, and then come back to the computer.

(MightyMoose) I don't understand...you're not making sense...

(hongkongfooey) Makes perfec sense. He's not mine. Can't be. Won[' be ever again.

(MightyMoose) Are you....Are you okay?

Fuck it. Would I be babbling to you on a dumb computer if everything were okay? That's not fair of me. I'm the one who wanted the conversation. I bend to the keyboard, and type.

(hongkongfooey) Course I'm okay. What could possibly be wrong?

(MightyMoose) Yeah? Lots of typos tonight...so what happened?

(hongkongfooey) My tpying is fine. Tld you already. Duty calls, and I got to give him up.

(MightyMoose) Duty? What duty? Your boss can't tell you who to love...it's not like he can fire you for it.

(hongkongfooey) She'd fire me in a heartbeat. Think that's all that's left now. Get fired and it can all go fuck itself.

(MightyMoose) Listen...you cannot be fired for being gay. That's against the labor laws...

(hongkongfooey) She'd wend me back. I'd be dead in a day.

(MightyMoose) wend?

(hongkongfooey) What? Wend? Oh... send. Sorry. Fingers a little fuzzy.

He's gonna start getting snotty with me. I can tell. So I'm drunk. It's 2;30 am, and if I wasn't fucked up, I'd be in bed and sleeping with my Victor by my side right now.

(MightyMoose) I can see that...okay. Tell me what happened. Did he find out about your past?

(hongkongfooey) already knew all fo that. Tol you. Perfect man. -- I stop there. How can I explain this when it sounds so stupid even to me? I have to get it in order in my own mind before I can lay it out for anyone else and expect them to understand it. I resume typing. -- See, there;s a prior claim on my affectoins/ so I can't be happy. Got to do the duty.

(MightyMoose) Girlfriend? What happened? Is she pregnant?

(hongkongfooey) Pregnant isn't an option. She'd just kill herself and it would be my fault.

(MightyMoose) Suicide is the choice of the person who uses it...it's the coward's way out...

(hongkongfooey) My fault. All my fault. She's gonne get herslef hurt and is my fault.

He just doesn't know. How could I face my father? How could I face anyone?

(MightyMoose) NO! not your fault...why would you think that?

(hongkongfooey) She can't seal with me an' him.

Oh-oh... Quickly, I correct.

(hongkongfooey) Deal. Not seal.

(MightyMoose) are you drinking?

You got me, bud. Yup. I'm drinking.

(hongkongfooey) Only a bit. Spilling most of it...

(MightyMoose) Damn.

(hongkongfooey) Yep. Damn is right.

(MightyMoose) Put it down. Right now. Didn't you tell me that you didn't want to go back to what you used to be?

(hongkongfooey) Don' ubderstand. Put it down? Too late...

(MightyMoose) You told me once that you didn't want to be the person you were anymore...why is it too late?

(hongkongfooey) I don't want to be the person I am. Don' wanna hurt like this.

(MightyMoose) And what person would that be? Booze isn't gonna make it better...You'll still have the same problems when you come up for air...more...

I think about that, trying to taste the truth in it, but there is no truth, just empty words that echo hollow inside my head. Forgetting is the only answer.

(hongkongfooey) Gonna make it go away.

(MightyMoose) No it isn't...it's gonna make more...I should know...

(hongkongfooey) An anyway, didn't just do the booze. He'd be sick if he knew.

(MightyMoose) The drugs too? What did you do? The ecstasy?

It's my friend. My old, dependable friend. How can he decry it when it makes me feel real again, just for an hour or two? Besides, it's all irrelevant now. The guys who fucked me over just after LiAnn was taken saw to that.

(hongkongfooey) Got myself wasted...Don't know...too much.

(MightyMoose) How wasted? Did you shoot? What? What happened?

(hongkongfooey) Did it all, man. They fucked me an I didn't even know. Woke up half naked in thesnow. Oh, fuck. Lost 24 hours

(MightyMoose) Define all...what drugs did you do? Please...it's important...

Hang on a minute. What's it to him?

(hongkongfooey) Don't know. Why do you care

Something about this conversation is setting of alarm bells in my head. Something... familiar.

(MightyMoose) Because...I used to work w/addicts...

(hongkongfooey) yeah?

(MightyMoose) Yeah...

(hongkongfooey) An you think I'm an additc.

(MightyMoose) I'm not here to judge, man...I just know that you can get yourself into serious trouble...a lot of that shit is incredibly addictive...

(hongkongfooey) Don't you see, I want to? Want to haev it all out of my hands. Nothing I do is gonna help now.

(MightyMoose) But you wanted to be in control...that's why you got sober...isn't it?

What's he trying to do? Cure me? There's no cure. No cure.

(hongkongfooey) That was when there was a reason to do it.

(MightyMoose) There still is. You're the reason...

I don't know what he means. Draining my glass, I head out to the kitchen again, stumbling over the shoes that are scattered in the doorway and breaking the glass I was using. I don't bother to get another one. I wipe the blood from my hand onto my sweatpants, and grab the bottle. I fall a couple of times on my way back to the computer, but miraculously, I don't spill my remaining booze. Sinking back into the chair, I see that he's asking me more questions.

(MightyMoose) Okay...just tell me this...did you shoot?

(hongkongfooey) Yeah.

(MightyMoose) Shit. What?

(hongkongfooey) Dunno. Didn't help. Came down hard...

(MightyMoose) Did you share needles?

He's like an aching tooth. Won't let me rest. I want to tell him about Vic, and how I love him, but he won't stop picking away at this. Like it matters.

(hongkongfooey) Not gonna. Don't really know. Did a whole lot of stuff there. They really stuck it to me.

(MightyMoose) :::Sigh::: Okay...so what else happened?

(hongkongfooey) Tol ya. Lost a day. Went with this guy... He smelled like...my guy. Leather. Too nice.

A vision of Vic in his leather outfit rises before me. He's so close I can smell him, and I reach out to touch him. Of course he isn't there, and I bury my head in my hands. The room is spinning a little as I close my eyes.

(MightyMoose) Okay...half-naked in the snow...do you know how you got there?

(hongkongfooey) He took me to a party an there were a lot of other guys there. Couldn't find my shirt.

(MightyMoose) Yeah...what else?

(hongkongfooey) Borrowed the leather jacket. Went out to go home, and they followed, I think. Took the jacket back. Didn't matter anyway. Wasn't really his. He looked so fucking good in that leather.

He looked wonderful, edible. He's there in front of me now, and I want to sink into him, smell the leather, and feel the heat from him. He's not real; I know that. I wish that I could lose myself in my lovely vision, but the pull as the words appear on the screen dispels him yet again.

(MightyMoose) Okay...what else?

(hongkongfooey) You writing the book, man? Just leave it.

(MightyMoose) Quit dicking around...why won't you tell me?

I bite back the reply I want to give him. He means well, and I guess I owe him politeness if nothing else. Sighing, I aim for the keyboard again, narrowly missing knocking over the brandy bottle.

(hongkongfooey) It's all screwed. I'm a mess, and I lost my love. That's all there is. What else could there be?

(MightyMoose) Right. You're drinking, drugging and partying...and you won't tell me what happened with the guy.

Leave me alone. Angry now, I let him have it.

(hongkongfooey) READ THESE WRODS. I. DON'T. REMEMBER.

(MightyMoose) Did you know him?

(hongkongfooey) Nope. Din't know him. He fucked me though. They all did. Could tell after. You get this certain pain in the butt.

(MightyMoose) Any protection?

I shake my head. Shut up. Go away and leave me alone. My bottle is empty now and I'm angry about that as well. I'm starting to come down from the pills, and I'm beginning to think that talking like this was a waste of time.

(hongkongfooey) Don't think so. Was oozing come.

(MightyMoose) Fuck.

(hongkongfooey) You got that right.

(MightyMoose) Did you get checked out?

Did I? Yeah. I did. Should I tell him? Probably not. The clap, I can deal with, but who knows what else I may have? I won't know for at least another 6 months if I'm going to develop HIV.

(hongkongfooey) The Dragon Lady sent me for testing. Dunno if I can be called healthy though. Waiting. Why would I care?

(MightyMoose) Why wouldn't you?

(hongkongfooey) Don't see the point any more

(MightyMoose) The point is that somebody somewhere cares about you...your man?

(hongkongfooey) He hates me.

(MightyMoose) How do you know?

(hongkongfooey) Doesn't want to look at me any more. He'd have to. I betrayed him. Betrayesd us both.

And there you have it. I'm crying now, fucking sorry for myself. Damn! I wanted to sleep tonight, and now I won't. It's already too late.

(MightyMoose) Does he know about any of this?

(hongkongfooey) Don't know. I don't know what to do.

(MightyMoose) You said the girlfriend forced you back with her...does he know that?

Does he? Does he ever. He hates me for it. He believes that I'm a coward, or a shallow user. I don't know what he thinks, but he doesn't love me any more. He didn't look at me as he left the hospital. Didn't stop to say hello. He brushed by me with a vacant stare and Jackie, the slut-bride from Gangstas - R - Us on his arm. That's really when I knew that he'd never forgive me.

(hongkongfooey) Yeah. He looked at me like I killed him. Maybe I did.

(MightyMoose) Maybe he's trying to give you what he thinks you need...

Yeah. Maybe. What I need right now is oblivion. Maybe Vic would kill me if I ask him nicely? Even as I think about it, I know that I'm doing Vic a disservice. When was he ever mean? Face it, Mac, old boy, you've hurt him as much as you've hurt yourself. You deserve the pain. Just suck it up, will ya?

(hongkongfooey) I need? What do I need? Can't do this any more.

(MightyMoose) Can't do what...live?

(hongkongfooey) Guess so. You're perceptive.

(MightyMoose) :::Snort::: Hardly...

He's pissing me off now. Some people are so self-righteous. This asshole never had to live through the kind of devastation I'm facing.

(hongkongfooey) Bet you're happy. Bet you never had to put up with this kind of crap in your life.

(MightyMoose) Oh yeah...ducky...

(hongkongfooey) ?

(MightyMoose) My lover...*ex* lover hates me...I fell so head over heels...and then it exploded in my face...

(hongkongfooey) She does? Why? What did you do?

(MightyMoose) I fucked up.

That I can relate to. Fucking up is something I can identify. Just call me Mr. Fuck-up. Suddenly I feel more charitable towards him.

(hongkongfooey) Hah. Join the club. There should be a club for us fuck-ups.

(MightyMoose) There is...Fuck-ups Anonymous... <g> I'm a charter member...meetings every Tuesday...

That makes me laugh, and then I fall off my seat. It takes me a minute to crawl back into position. My head's spinning now, and I feel really nauseous, but the idea of a club is just too delicious.

(hongkongfooey) Guess I need to join then. Does she hate you now?

(MightyMoose) :::Sigh::: Oh, yeah...can't even stand to be in the same room w/me... Just like me and Vic. You'd think that there would be some kind of medication for star-crossed lovers, wouldn't you? I wonder what his particular crime was and try to ask him.

(hongkongfooey) What did YOU do?

(MightyMoose) Like I said, I fucked up...I lost something important...I got it back...but it's too late...

(hongkongfooey) So you reckon to grin and bear the heartache?

(MightyMoose) Fuck grinning...I can't pretend I'm okay when I'm not...but after living w/my dad and seeing what his drinking did to him, I can't do that either...

(hongkongfooey) I know what you mean. Aren't you tempted to get stoned out of your mine/?

(MightyMoose) Hell yeah...but then I see my dad's face and remember the agonies he put all of us through...I swore I'd never be like that, ya know?

But chemical oblivion is all I have. You can't take it away from me. I hear your message, and I'll agree in principal that you're right, but nothing will mend my life for me now. All I have left is avoidance.

(hongkongfooey) Wish I could stop, man. I hate everything.

(MightyMoose) You can. It's easy. Just put it down and walk away...

(hongkongfooey) I can't. I've got nothing left to walk towards. You make it sound so easy...

Hmmmph...that's a joke...

(MightyMoose) yeah? well, I can tell you that it fucking *isn't*...my baby's so fucking unhappy...and I want to just...kill somebody...but I can't...

I ponder the possibility that killing someone would make things better for me. Who would I kill? LiAnn? Victor? The Director? Nope. No way out there, or I'd have the Cleaners come in and use some of their extreme prejudice on my behalf.

(hongkongfooey) Wanna help me out here? Why don't you just go get her? Love her?

(MightyMoose) Can't...it's not up to me. Choice isn't mine to make...

(hongkongfooey) She has a husband?

(MightyMoose) Something like that...somebody that means more than I ever could...

(hongkongfooey) Well I'll tell you what... We should go out together and cry in each other's milk.

(MightyMoose) Yeah?

(hongkongfooey) You can stop me from drinking too much and I can give you hints on how to get her back. I'm just great with the women...unfortunately. I should start a bloody lonely hearts club.

(MightyMoose) Bud, I can't stop you from doing anything...but I can tell you why you shouldn't be doing it... <g> Are you still doing any drugs?

Okay, levity over. Here comes the next lecture, right on schedule. Damn! I hate when Vic does it, and I love Vic. I'm beginning to detest this conversation. I try rudeness.

(hongkongfooey) Why do you care?

(MightyMoose) Because I do...I'm just that way...for all the good it does me...

(hongkongfooey) Well, Tuesdays you said. <g> We can have a rally. March on the computer dating service...

(MightyMoose) Yeah... :::sigh::: I guess your avoidance answers the question...my baby used to do it too... <g>

(hongkongfooey) What did she do? Avoid? They all do that.,

(MightyMoose) Yeah...I miss it, you know? Miss a lot of things...

(hongkongfooey) Me too. Miss his voice the most. It's this lovely, growly, soft voice...like velvet on the ears.

I view the empty bottle disconsolately. Nothing is gonna be open at this hour of the night, so I don't think I'll be staying for much longer.

(hongkongfooey) Think I need to go to bed.

(MightyMoose) You should...

(hongkongfooey) Think about it. I don't smoke. Used to be fit. Wanted to be fit. Now, I just don't care.

(MightyMoose) But I know it's hard to right now. You want to tell the whole fucking world to piss off... <g>

(MightyMoose) I'm a decent guy...I try to be a good person...I'm not Charles Manson...so why do I always wind up alone?

Maybe you have warts. Maybe you're butt-ugly and fart a lot. The thought makes me giggle for a minute, and I slide off my seat and under the desk. Man, I'm wasted. When I've settled myself back into my seat, I ponder his question.

(hongkongfooey) Well, baby, nice guys finish last. If you quit caring, all of a sudden they want you.

(MightyMoose) Yeah...but I could never be that cold...it's not who I am...

(hongkongfooey) Hey, man, I know. You seem like a pretty nice guy. I don't know what to tell you.

(MightyMoose) But the thing that scares me most is that I can feel myself dying inside...it hurts...I can feel it creeping in...

(hongkongfooey) I feel the same. You feel like you lost the whole direction.

(MightyMoose) That's it...I don't know who I am anymore...for that one little minute, I knew...and then it was all gone...how could that happen?

(hongkongfooey) I know. I know only too well. Feels like someone gets into you with a knife.

(MightyMoose) I don't understand it...I mean, if she truly loved him, I could accept it...but she doesn't. I hate having to watch my baby be so fucking miserable, and I can't avoid it...

I'm sobbing now. The tears are rolling down my face to plop onto the desk beside the keyboard. How come we're all miserable? Why is there no justice in the world. A thought occurs to me.

(hongkongfooey) He? She? Who? If she's miserable, what's the problem?

(MightyMoose) She doesn't love him. It's a complicated situation...

(hongkongfooey) Just make her come back to you. Tell her to get a divorce. Life's too short.

(MightyMoose) They're not married...but they're wound up in each other...so much so that they could never be completely free of each other...which would be okay, if she truly loved him.

Suddenly, I have an idea. It's really hard to type now, but I steady my wrist, and tap out my message with a single finger.

(hongkongfooey) Well in that case, I don't see the problem, unless he's blackmailing her. If he is, the cops should know about it. Hey, I have an idea. Why don't I kill him for you? That way, she'll be free for you, and if I get caught, hell, what difference does it make?

The thought of this asshole stopping my friend from achieving happiness makes me see red, and I grab the empty bottle and hurl it against the wall, watching with great satisfaction as it smashes, and the pieces of glass rain down to mingle with the wreckage of the TV.

(MightyMoose) She does in a way; I know she loves me too, but she's so dependant on him...even when he wasn't there she was...and she doesn't know how to make it be any other way...What?? don't even think about it...

(hongkongfooey) No? But it would solve everything.

(MightyMoose) Yeah. Except for the guilt I'd suffer after you went to jail...

How sweet. He doesn't seem to realize just what a waste of space I am. How to disabuse him? I type:

(hongkongfooey) Hey, man, I don't care. I've been in jail before. It's not so bad.

(MightyMoose) Yeah? Well I do. I appreciate the thought, though. :::snort::: so have I. I don't want to go back. it sucked. I was *not* Mr. Popularity. Half of them wanted to kill me, the other half wanted to fuck me...then kill me.

(hongkongfooey) You too, huh? We have a lot in common. You got a particularly peachy ass, or are you an informant?

(MightyMoose) <g> Well, I think it's kinda cute, but that's just me.

Oh, God. How did I get into this conversation? How can I get out again? I find myself lurching again and cling to the desk as I try to remain upright. I definitely don't feel good.

(hongkongfooey) Hey, I have to go to bed. My head's spinning a little. Don't feel so good.

(MightyMoose) Yeah...you should...will you do something for me?

(hongkongfooey) Sure, if I can. What?

(MightyMoose) Will you give up the drugs? Just the drugs? You can still drink...please?

(hongkongfooey) Oh, fuck, man! I guess I can do that. I can try, anyway.

(MightyMoose) Just try it for a day or two...but maybe if you can function without them, you'll start finding out that it isn't as bad as you thought...

(hongkongfooey)::shaking head:: It's worse.

(MightyMoose) I know it's hard...

Oh, yeah. That's a joke. I can't remember the last time I managed to get it up. Actually, that isn't true. The last time was when LiAnn woke me, and I thought that she was Vic. Since then I haven't felt even remotely sexual. That in itself is scary. Up until now I've been used to having sex on a daily basis.

(hongkongfooey) That's just where you're wrong. It hasn't been hard since he and I were last together. I don't think it will ever work again. But I'll knock off the pills, for you.

(MightyMoose) I know exactly what you mean.

There's a sudden, horrible wave that flashes over me, and I know that I can't do this any more. My gorge rises, and my teeth begin to water.

(hongkongfooey) I have to go now. Not feeling great.

(MightyMoose) Okay...get some rest.

(hongkongfooey) Yeah. You too. See ya.

(MightyMoose) See ya...

That's it then. No time to turn off the monitor, no time to log out. I'm suddenly, horribly sick. As I lie shivering on the soiled carpet, with the room spinning around and my stomach trying its damnedest to eject itself from my throat, I reflect on the fact that I can't go any lower than this.

The following day is lost time for me. I crawled to my bed and slept there for a while. At one point I awoke to the sound of people talking in the living room, and the crash and tinkle of glass. I had no idea that they had been sent by the Director to clean up the mess I'd made. It was only much later that I found that out. They left, and I don't think that I even noticed that they'd been there. LiAnn, however, gives me no such option. When she arrives, it's late in the afternoon. I'm in a total fog, and her presence doesn't make that much of an impression on me.

"Eww, gross! What the hell happened in here? Mac...Mac! Get up!" LiAnn's voice is generally soft and musical. Today, it isn't. Today, it reverberates inside my head as if she's banging a gong. How she achieves that level of stridence I can't quite imagine, but it pierces my drugged-out cocoon. I curl in on myself and she nudges me with her toe, rather viciously, I think.

"Wha...what? Go 'way.... Lemme sleep." I don't want to wake up. I want to sleep forever.

"Mac, get up right now!" It's obvious that she isn't going to go away. I open a single eye and peer at her. I can't see anything against the terrible brightness of the daylight, and bury my head again. "What the hell is wrong w/you? Oh, god you smell..."

"Oh, God... Go 'way." Even as I speak, I know that she won't.

"Mac," There it is again, that voice like a red-hot bradawl. I struggle up, thinking that I need to get this over with. "I'm sick and tired of this melodramatic bullshit. You act like your whole goddamn world is crashing around you. So you fucked him, so what? I had him too, and trust me; he is not that stellar in the sack. Now get the fuck up."

"LiAnn? What? Oh, God, my head..." I want to vomit. The whole of my universe exists within the single, bright pain that pounds behind my eyes.

"Yeah, your head," she sneers. "What do you expect when you act like a stupid fool? Don't you have any self-respect anymore? The Mac Ramsey I knew wouldn't be caught dead like this." Well fuck me. I think I know a little better than you what Mac Ramsey would do. I rise cautiously to a seated position, and my head does not in fact roll from my shoulders. This is not necessarily a good thing; believe me. I blink at LiAnn, and try for a little dignity, silly though that might be.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You come in here," Talking hurts my head, and I groan. "And start in on me as though you own me. Who gave you the right?" I lurch to my feet, and then think better of it, plopping back down on the edge of the bed. She doesn't seem to care. She starts in on me.

"Your partner, that's who I am...the one who's bailed you out of more stupid fucking stunts than either of us can count, the one who gave up her life for you. Remember, Mac? Because of you, I'm stuck here in this life, with no chance of ever getting out." I'm about to start yelling back at her, but that one brings me up short.

"Gave up your life? What the hell are you talking about?" I soon find out.

"You were the one who wanted to leave, Mac. You were the one who begged me to come with you." It takes me a minute to realize that she's alluding to our attempt to break free of the Tang family. I snort.

"You didn't give up a thing for me; you were here long before I came. I frown. Damn, I feel ill. "I thought you were dead. You sure as hell never looked for me. You got here all on your own. If it hadn't been for you, they'd never have come looking for me."

"Because I was stuck here. Is that what you think?" She's still loud, but now she's trying to justify herself. I interrupt her.

"Think? I know it." She tries for the pathos angle.

"The Director knew you were alive, Mac. I mourned for you. I thought you were dead." Oh, please...

"Yeah. You mourned your way all over Victor." Victor. Unbidden, he rises before my eyes again. I bite back a sob.

"You know nothing about my relationship with Victor...and you're a fine one to talk... or did you forget that I saw the two of you in flagrante delicto?" That's rich. Jealous bitch that she is, she's going to make me hate her. I look at her, trying, really trying one last time to understand.

"Tell me about your relationship with him, LiAnn? Why did you lead him on like that? You hurt him...the way you hurt everyone you touch." I genuinely want to know. She's mad though. Her face colors up as she ploughs into a response.

"Lead him...I did *not* lead him on, Mac. What the hell was I supposed to do? I *saw* that warehouse blow up, and then you just waltz back into my life after a year and a half and expect me not to be confused? He knew I had issues with you... he chose to get involved anyway." I'm getting angry myself now.

"Hah. Confused you call it. You just have to have every guy, don't you? Every woman too, as like as not."

"WHAT? What the hell are you talking about? Who do you think you are?" I've had enough of this. I've had enough of her. I start to bite it back, for the sake of what we were, but then my temper, never good, gets the better of me, and I let her have it. My head is clearing a little, and each word rings down a death knell on the relationship - a relationship that should have been over a long time ago.

"I know who I am, LiAnn, and I know what you are too. Look at you. Sympathy oozing out of every pore. You're fine as long as it's all about you. Trouble is, as soon as it's not about you, you sulk. Well, I've got news for you. Not everything is about you, so why don't you just go back where you came from and count your trophies? You heard me. You get off on people's misery, and I've had enough of it. You're a fucking emotional vampire." By the time I've finished, she's pale and gasping. I don't think I've ever seen her so furious.

"Oh, really? Be careful, Mac...be very, very careful and think about the next words that come out of your mouth. You just might live to regret them." Veiled threats were always my favorite thing. I smile, deliberately annoying.

"LiAnn, I'm tired, and I don't feel so good. Why do you feel you've gotta persecute me? I'm already regretting waking up this morning. Why do you feel you've gotta make it worse?" I get to my feet and stagger into the bathroom. When she follows me, I'm astounded.

"I don't want to make it worse, Mac. I just don't understand why you think all of...this," she gestures around theatrically. "Is necessary? You've never acted like this before."

I turn to her, somewhat aggressively. "LiAnn, I'm trying to take you seriously, but just how the hell do you know how I've acted? You don't fucking know me."

"That's not true, Mac. I know you very well. You've always had a weakness for a pretty face and I've always forgiven you for it, Mac. I've always let you come back no matter how bad you were and how far you strayed. I'm willing to let you come back this time too. Why are you hurting me like this? Why are you making me beg?" That makes me laugh. Picture this. Here I am, clad in my boxers, leaning up against the sink, dirty and hungover, and needing to pee, and there she stands, clad in self-righteousness, not noticing, or at least not caring that she's in my way. I round on her.

"Oh, fuck! How noble of you. Poor, long-suffering LiAnn! How you must agonize. I'm not making you do a fucking thing, sweetheart. I just want a bit of peace. I'm not hurting you. I don't think it's possible to hurt you." There's a shocked hush, and then she rallies.

"No? I almost died because you did exactly that, Mac." I gasp at the sheer, barefaced cheek of her.

"Who the fuck told you to go out and get yourself taken? You almost got Vic killed, you bitch. Don't you dare throw that at me!" I'm fuming now. There's no way that she's going to get away with this. She's livid too, and all her reserve has gone out of the window as she screeches at me.

"Throw what? The truth? If you and Vic hadn't wanted to go whore around upstairs instead of do your jobs and back me up, maybe I wouldn't have felt the need to go out back and sob my eyes out, you selfish bastard."

"Selfish? How the fuck am I selfish, LiAnn? I love Vic. I love him, God damn you!" I'm screaming back at her, and for a second she steps back. I think that she's going to leave then, but I'm not so lucky. She starts back, speaking low, her fury a palpable entity as she berates me.

"You flaunted your relationship every chance you got, you and Vic both. How you must have chuckled over my catching you that first time in your apartment. Poor, stupid LiAnn, did you see the look on her face? And all the sweet, sappy kissing and touching...Jesus, it gave me a toothache!" There we have it. The true reason for her behavior out at last, in the open. I throw back my head and laugh. I can't stop myself now, even though I can see it all unraveling around me.

"You know what, LiAnn? We didn't give it a moment's thought. We were too busy being together. You're just a jealous bitch, and it's not about you, get it? It's not about you!" I turn then and switch on water for the shower, one hand trailing under it to tell me when the chill is off. I think for sure now that she would have left in a huff, but it's obvious that it's not to be my lucky day. She crowds me as I ready myself for the shower.

"Love him, Mac? You love him?" She's sneering and I want to hit her. "I've heard that one before. What a joke. You don't give a damn about anybody but Mac Ramsey; you never have. It's the reason Father was always on your back."

"Here we go." I roll my eyes, and then deliberately I drop my boxers and stand naked in front of her, ready to get into the warmth of the shower. "Bring him into it. You have to, don't you? LiAnn? What are you doing here? Why don't you go find a nice Chinese boy and get married." I turn to step under the spray and she grabs my arm, pulling me back. I round on her, angrily. "Let me go."

"Well, gee, I could...except I'm indentured for life to the Agency, courtesy of you." She's still sneering, and I'm gritting my teeth now, biting off the words that drop uncensored from my mouth.

"That again? Let me tell you how it is, LiAnn. You alone got yourself here. Having done that, you made sure that they got me too, and you sank your hooks into Vic on principal, just because he was there. I told you, I thought you were dead." An idea strikes me. I shake her off my arm, and yell at her. "You know what, LiAnn? The only one left for you to put your mark on is the Director... Why don't you go after her? Go on... You might as well try for a full set... think of the benefits. You've got all the skills now, LiAnn. You honed them on poor suckers like Michael. Just play her the way you played him. The poor cow won't stand a chance. Think of what you'll be able to get out of her, LiAnn... more than I could ever give you, that's for sure." When the slap comes, I allow it to land. I've never squared off LiAnn, and I don't think that I can take her just at the moment. I'm not at my best, to put it mildly. Her hand lashes out to hit my face, and I wait, merely raising my hand to touch my lip, from which the blood is oozing.

"How dare you?" she screams. "What gives you the right to be so holy? You used people all the time, me included, and never thought twice about it. You've got a nerve, Ramsey."

"Fuck! LiAnn, you only ever see things that you want to see. Why don't you just get the hell out of here, and leave me alone? I don't really want to look at you." I turn away then and step under the shower. She's still there as I grab the shampoo and begin to lather my hair.

"It would serve you right if I just dumped your sorry ass right here and now." Just for a minute, I grind my teeth.

"Yeah, LiAnn. It would serve me right. Go on then, punish me. I deserve it." When I step out of the shower, clean again at last, she has gone.

My bedroom is a tip. There's stuff lying everywhere that I've not put away, and frankly it could all use a wash. My head aches, and my body is trembling with residual toxins. When I stumble into the living room, I expect it to reflect the violence of the night before, but to my amazement, it's spotlessly clean. There's no sign of my TV set, and no glass on the carpet, which seems to have been freshly shampooed.

I pull on a fresh set of underwear and climb into a pair of jeans, then lurch to the kitchen for juice and aspirin. Fortified temporarily, I creep to the chair beside my computer, and idly boot it up. It takes me a while. I piddle about with a few porn sites, though nothing seems to excite me any more. Eventually, towards midnight, I wander into the chat room, and there he is.

(MightyMoose) Hey...there you are...what's going on?

(hongkongfooey) Hmmm? Not much. How's things with you?

(MightyMoose) About the same.

(hongkongfooey) Yeah. Nothing changes.

Not true. I'm free. I don't know if it's a good thing or not, but I'm free. Of course the man I love hates me, and won't ever forgive me, but at least I'm not bound to LiAnn any more.

(MightyMoose) How are you? How are you holding up? If only you knew. If only I could tell you... I stay neutral.

(hongkongfooey) I'm okay, I guess. Doin' anything interesting lately?

(MightyMoose) Not a damn thing...off work for a little while...

(hongkongfooey) Yeah? Holiday?

(MightyMoose) Nope. Had an accident at work...

(hongkongfooey) Oh, shit. Not good. What happened?

(MightyMoose) Did something stupid...no big deal...I'm still walking, talking and breathing...<g> what about you?

(hongkongfooey) I guess that's good then. Wish I was. Well, I haven't really been out much in the last couple of days. Somehow don't feel like it.

Now if that isn't an understatement, I don't know what is. I smile slightly. That makes me think. I haven't felt like smiling for a hell of a long time, and I wonder idly if my face will fall in half.

(MightyMoose) :::Sigh::: Still drinking?

(hongkongfooey) A little.

Oh, baby, if you knew...

(MightyMoose) And the rest?

(hongkongfooey) Look, far be it from me to start an argument, but you're starting to sound like my boss, and that ain't good.

(MightyMoose) Hey, it's cool. I'm just concerned. Speaking of which, how are you dealing with work?

(hongkongfooey) Got time off to recover from a particularly nasty incident a short while back.

(MightyMoose) Do I want to know?

No. Trust me, you don't.

(hongkongfooey) It's not something I can talk about.

(MightyMoose) No problem. So how long are you off for?

I frown, because for the life of me I don't know what day this is. Hell, I don't seem to know anything any more. If Vic could see me now I guess he'd say that I got what I deserved. Gotta tell him something. I prevaricate.

(hongkongfooey) Couple more days. The boss wants me in, day after tomorrow, whatever that is...How about you?

(MightyMoose) I go back beginning of next week...gotta tell you, though, I'm not used to this much enforced inactivity...

(hongkongfooey) Me either. Don't know quite what's happened to me. Lifestyles of the rich and famous, huh?

(MightyMoose) Yeah...

(hongkongfooey) Sit back, suck a beer and watch WWF on the TV. Bunch of shit!

(MightyMoose) I hate TV...rots your brain...

I look at the place where my TV used to stand, and shrug my shoulders. I never watched the stupid thing anyway.

(hongkongfooey) There ya go. I never had one, so I'm safe.

(MightyMoose) So what do you do for entertainment?

I only have so much patience today, and I'm starting to use up the last dregs.

(hongkongfooey) Nothin'. What is there? Been getting my collection of belly button lint in order.

(MightyMoose) Books, music, art?

A pause, and then...

(MightyMoose) LOL! That must be interesting...

(hongkongfooey) Oh, you have no idea. Had a race with a couple of woodlice yesterday. I won!

I wonder how long it will be before he gives up on me and goes away. Part of me is appalled at my own cavalier attitude, but mostly I just couldn't care less.

(MightyMoose) You need to get out more...I was thinking...

(hongkongfooey) Careful. Isn't there some safety device you need when you do that?

Oh, I slay myself.

(MightyMoose) Funny. where do you live?

(hongkongfooey) Downtown Toronto. Why?

(MightyMoose) Really? So do I...look, I don't usually do this kind of thing; but I'm going stir- crazy...and you sound like you need to get out in the fresh air...you want to meet somewhere?

Well what do you know? This is such a surprise. It's sweet of him, and so I don't instantly type in 'fuck, no!' I ponder. Do I want to go out or not? I feel somehow lightheaded. LiAnn walked out on me. There's no way that I'm going to marry her now. I'm free. So, okay, Vic won't want me, but we're all alive, and I don't have to play games any more.

(hongkongfooey) What's with this fresh air thing? You don't fancy a club? A little pool, a beer or two? It's snowed, you know. Cold.

(MightyMoose) I'm not into the club thing...had a bad experience...

Baby, let me tell you about the all time bad experience in a club. I bite back the urge to get into a confession schtick, and bend my mind to possible venues.

(hongkongfooey) Well, better make it Starbucks, unless you wanna re-enact "Sleepless in Seattle" and use the CN Tower.

(MightyMoose) You like art? there's an exhibit...

(hongkongfooey) What kind of an exhibit?

(MightyMoose) Van Gogh...

(hongkongfooey) Starry Night, and that kind of thing? Hmmm.

(MightyMoose) yeah...interested?

I prefer Rembrandt, but I'll take Van Gogh, and I always relish the opportunity to check out the security in the art gallery. Hell, why not?

(hongkongfooey) ::shrug:: Sure. Why not. It's not like my engagement calendar is full.

(MightyMoose) Okay...when?

(hongkongfooey) Hmmm? Well I guess it needs to be tomorrow if we're gonna do it. I may be back in work after that., Tomorrow afternoon?

This is interesting. It's almost fun. For the first time in weeks, I feel a little hope.

(MightyMoose) Sure...how will I know you?

(hongkongfooey) I'll bring all of my lint?

(MightyMoose) :::Laughing::: yeah, okay...what else?

(hongkongfooey) Ummm... I'm tall. 6'4". And skinny. And I'll wear a yellow turtleneck under a brown suede jacket. Hair's black, and.... ummm. I have big feet. You? You gonna amaze me by being a 20 year old blonde with huge boobs?

(MightyMoose) You wish. I'm 6'1...dark hair...be wearing a brown leather bomber...

Curses! I could have gone for the blonde... An image of Jackie, perfect package that she is, floats up before me, and I shudder. Okay, forget the blonde. I'd rather have my beautiful, dark, green-eyed boy any way.

(hongkongfooey) Okay. I'll tower over you then. That will make me feel superior.

(MightyMoose) Whatever you need to get your self-esteem up...

(hongkongfooey) Fuck. You sound like a damned pop psychologist.

(MightyMoose) :::Shrug::: Never underestimate the power of a good pop...

Oh, baby, I don't. I'm craving chemical relief even as we speak, but somehow I don't think that's what you meant.

(hongkongfooey) :::Snort::: Ha, ha. So I'll meet you at the Van Gogh exhibit?

(MightyMoose) Yeah. What time?

(hongkongfooey) Hmmmm...around 2?

(MightyMoose) Two's fine. I'm kinda tired now. See you tomorrow?

(hongkongfooey) Yeah. go to sleep...take care of yourself.

(MightyMoose) You too...'night...

(hongkongfooey) Night...

I have a date. Astonishing. I have a fucking blind date. Sighing, I return to my wreck of a bedroom, lie down, and fall asleep.

I rush into the gallery at 5 past 2. I know I'm late, and I wonder if I've made it, or if the other man will have gone.

There are a few people in the hall. I look around for a brown bomber jacket, but don't see one at first, then, as I scan the browsing public anxiously, I spot a brown-leather clad back and make for the figure of the man that's sitting off to one side, reading.

"Hey there..." I watch as the man checks his watch, and then looks around him. If he'd only turn my way I'd feel better, but that must be him.

The man on the bench turns back to his exhibit pamphlet and I hurry up to him, calling out a greeting. It dies on my lips half spoken as I realize just who it is that I'm addressing.

"Sorry I'm..." I trail off into confused silence.

"Uhm, hey..." Victor Mansfield says. "What's going on?"

"I...er... I didn't expect to see you here... Er...how are you? Are you feeling better?" I know I'm babbling, as I try to cover my confusion. My God! Not only am I here, having this embryonic conversation without any preparation, I'm also here to meet a man. He hates me already, but he'll totally flip when I go off with another guy.

"A little. My throat's still a bit sore." He looks gorgeous. I want to grab him, and cover him with kisses. Instead, I hover, shuffling from foot to foot like an idiot. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, you know me and culture." I laugh artificially, too loud. I can tell that he sees through me like a piece of glass and rush on into inanity. "How about you? You developing a love of the arts?"

"Something like that. I wanted to see the Van Gogh exhibit." The look he gives me is kinda cold, and I feel a shiver travel the length of my spine. I'm afraid that I'll give away how I feel and I look away, putting my faith in a discussion about art.

"I... I have to admit I prefer Rembrandt, but Van Gogh had an eye for color..." I'm babbling again, but he plays the game and lets me off the hook for the time being.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Not as beautiful as you, my love. My fingers itch to touch him, but he's not mine any more...

"I'm supposed to meet someone. Seen anyone looking lost?" I sat, leaving a space between the two of us so that he won't get up and go, but unable to walk away from him myself. "Guess I'll sit down for a minute."

"No, not really," Vic turns his head away and I can tell that he doesn't want to be with me, doesn't want my company. Why I can't just bite it, and leave him to it I don't know, but I stay, determined to tough it out, just so I can watch the way his eyes gleam. "I'm waiting for somebody too."

That thought sticks like a knife into my heart I stand up again, ready to high tail it out of there. I don't want to see him start over. I don't want to know who he's dating. I try and extricate myself. "Guess I shouldn't keep you then. When do you come back to work?"

"Beginning of next week. You?"

"Think she wants me in tomorrow, but I don't know." I'm gazing at him, mute with longing, taking in the gorgeous face, and the rugged brown bomber jacket...

The brown bomber jacket.

I think my jaw drops just then, because that's when I see his eyes widen and he looks at me... I mean that he really looks at me.

"Fooey," he breathes, and his voice is strained in a way that makes my heart leap like a fucking salmon going to spawn. Suddenly, I know, and curse myself for being so damned stupid!

"You wouldn't happen to be the Mighty Moose, would you?" I ask, even though I know the answer almost as much as I fear it.

I see him gasp.

"How do you know that?" Oh, please! Like he didn't know. Sure he didn't know. He's made a fool of me. I've told him things that make me want to cringe. Suddenly I'm angry - angry at him; angry at me, at the whole damned world.

"You know something, I couldn't make a right decision if my life depended on it. I don't believe this." I want to run screaming. The things I've said. The things I've told him. Oh, my stupid, stupid mouth. "Come on, Vic, you can't be that dumb..."

He's still sitting there, looking at me as though I'm a little gone in the head. "You're who I've been chatting with?"

Fuck me, he didn't know. Well, I guess that he does now. Damn it all, he knows far more than I want him to. He knows it all, doesn't he? "Guess you know more about me than you really wanted to, huh?"

"Come with me." Oh, great. He wants to hit me. I draw away from him, searching for a way out that will let me get away, go home and lick my wounds. I start to laugh, because if I don't, I'll run screaming, and that would be a bad thing.

When I can talk, I tell him, "Oh, I don't think so."

"Oh, yes...right now." He's in my face, and I'm afraid. "Don't push me, Malcolm."

"So you've gotten some woman pregnant, have you, Victor?" I flare at him. Get onto the offensive, quick, boy, or he'll have you begging. "Push you? I'm not touching you. I hold my palms up and open in denial.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" he's talking in a strained, whispering yell that seems to carry almost as well as his ordinary, velvety tones. I guess that he's trying to remain low profile, but we've already gotten a few strange looks from passersby as we argue in hushed tones.

"Come on... Moose! You were bemoaning the fact that you'd gotten this woman of yours pregnant. Think I'd forget something like that?" I'm trying urgently to divert attention from myself. I can recall every last thing I told that anonymous presence on my screen, and I'm dying inside with the embarrassment of having him there, and lost to me, and knowing it.

"No. That was you...although come to think of it, you never said that exactly. My dad was right." I stop for a minute, riveted by the very odd non sequitur.

"Your Dad? What the hell are you talking about?" I frown and relax my guard for a minute, and he nails me.

"Never assume: it makes an ass out of you and me. Let's go." he grabs my arm, hauls me away as though I were a naughty school kid. "We need to get some things straight, you and I."

"Go? Go where?" I fight to pull away, but when an attendant begins to approach us with menace in his gait, I give in and permit Vic to lead me away from the hall and off outside. He's going to hurt me, and I deserve to be hurt, but that doesn't mean that I want it.

"Home," It's a simple response but it sticks in my head, rings in my ears, and makes the world fade for a minute..

"Home? Don't be doing this to me, Victor." Don't hurt me, please don't hurt me.

"Doing what? Everything that's happened has been because you wanted it." I look at him, jaw down on my chest. If this was the summer, I'd be catching flies.

"Nothing that's happened is because I wanted it. Nothing. You're mad." I think back. It was LiAnn who was the instigator. All I could do was what I did. 'And look where that's got you,' says a small voice inside my head, but my mouth stays determinedly tongue tied.

"You kissed me. You kissed me first," I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. I follow him limply as he drags me off the street, and into a small alleyway.

"You're the one who walked away," he leans into my space - almost close enough to touch my lips, but he doesn't, and I know that this isn't about love at all; it's about war. He wants me to grovel and I know that I will. I love him so much.

"I did what? What are you talking about, Mansfield?"

"You walked away from me to go back to *her.* Didn't you? Answer me!" I gape at him.

"I... I..." I can't answer. I just don't know what to say. "I can't, Vic..."

"You can't? Why? You don't love her. You said you loved me. Were you lying to me, my baby?"

Still I don't answer. I close my eyes and turn my head away. I can feel that my body has started to shake, and the tears are welling up in my eyes. I don't want him to see me cry.

"Answer. Me. Now!" He forces my head back. "Do you really want to see how far I can be pushed, baby?"

I've backed up until I feel the wall of the gallery pressing against my back. I make an attempt to shove Vic away from me, but I know how feeble it is. I'm wasted and trembling. Leave me. Go away and let me die. "Just leave me be, Vic, please..."

Vic holds me off easily. Not only has he always outweighed me, but he's fit and strong, whereas I'm in serious need of a dose of chemical assistance. "I can't, baby. If I thought you were happy, I'd be able to, but you're not and it's tearing me up inside. You're killing me, Mac. Don't you understand that?"

I look at him, stricken. I open my mouth and then close it again without saying anything. Don't! Don't. I need you to be well for me, Vic. I shake my head from side to side as though to make it all go away. "For God's sake, Vic."

"I'm dying, baby, dying because you're killing yourself. Don't you know that?" He gently kisses me and then kisses me again while my whole world rocks on its axis. I want to bury my face in the smell of him. I want to feel his warmth around me and have him speak to me again of home, but I can't bring myself to let him torment me if it's going to be taken from me again in a minute.

My shuddering intensifies, and I whimper as Vic's lips burn me. "I can't. I love you, but I..."

"I love you, and unless you can look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love me, you are coming home with me if I have to drag you by the hair. Don't test me right now. I've had all I can stand. But what?" Fierce voice, burning eyes, and hands that grip me so tightly that they bruise. I feel consumed in the heat of him.

"So I love you. So what?" The heat sends sparks, and suddenly I flare, trying to fight his passion with my own, empty fury. "So fucking what? You think that I could live with myself if..." I stop speaking, and hug myself. "It just can't happen any more, can it? You understand, don't you?"

"If what? What can't? Tell me... No I don't fucking understand. Spell it out for me." Now he's angry, so angry that the eyes of him burn me, scoring deep under my flesh. I don't know any more. I just don't know.

"LiAnn... You know what she did... I can't cause her death." I hang my head, hoping that he will see and understand my misery.

He closed his eyes and lays his forehead against the top of my head in a tender gesture that catches me unawares. "So you'd let her kill you instead? And I'm supposed to just accept this?"

"I guess that way I wouldn't be committing murder." Okay, that's a stupid thing to say, but it's true. It's how I feel.

"I can't accept this." He's yelling now, but it's not directed at me. I want to hold him, but instead I stand and listen, too afraid to try any more. "I won't. I shouldn't have to, and neither you nor LiAnn can make me."

"I don't understand." I'm a liar. I understand all too well. "What are you going to do?"

"You're coming with me, Mac. I don't care what I have to do to make you, but you are. You are going to eat, and then we can figure out how to make this work..." It would be so easy to give in and go with him, but nothing would be solved, would it? I retaliate as best I can, yelling at him in my attempt to make him lay off me - leave me alone in my misery.

"For fuck's sake, Victor, quit turning the knife. It hurts enough as it is." I think at that point I choke. I can't continue, and he seizes the opportunity to make me feel dreadful. I don't want to listen, but his hoarse voice is laying down the words like a spell to take my heart and squeeze it.

"You don't get it. You're the one turning the knife, with a little help from LiAnn. It stops now. I'm done with being the one who has to sacrifice. I want you, I'm taking you back, and LiAnn is going to have to deal."

"You think?" I screamed at him. "You think you're the only one that's suffering? You think you're the only one who's lost anything?" I watch numbly as his gaze turned hard and cold. This is it. This is where he hits me and leaves me. This is where I begin to die. I stare at Vic uncomprehendingly as I try to process the words. I'm at my last resources, and I know it. I no longer know what the hell I should do, or even why I ought to do it. "I don't know. I can't think any more."

"I've lost a lot in my life, Mac. And I refuse to lose you too." For a minute, the words don't percolate through my thick skull. When they do, my belly is too busy doing it's strange flip-flop thing for me to concentrate on anything other than the glow in his eyes, and the beauty of his face when he's being serious. "I'm asking you one more time, come home with me. Please. That's all I ask. If you ever loved me, you'll give me that."

My eyes fill, and I slump, but I don't say anything. I can't. There's a lump in my throat that I can't seem to speak around. Finally, I lay my head down on Vic's shoulder, for a minute remembering the strength of him, and the warmth, and the love in him.

"Please," I could feel him caressing me, stroking my hair. "Just to talk. We need to talk about this."

I shudder under his touch. Just to talk is right. He doesn't know how bad it is. He has no idea that I can't do it any more. He will throw me out soon enough. "How can you want me...want this after what's happened?"

"Shhhhh. We can talk about it at home...just know that I do want you, that I still love you...believe in that for me," he kisses the tears away from my face and I almost believe that it could be alright again. Just one more day with him. That's all I'm asking. "It's time to come home, baby."

That's just too much for me. I crumple, and my arms go around him as I cling to him for support. I hold him tightly, pressing my face into his strong shoulder. Damn, this is weak. I choke back a sob and then stand, unmoving. He smiles at me. He fucking smiles, and I don't know if I'm happy or not. I do know that I'm scared shitless.

"We'll figure it all out, I promise. Let's go." His voice is so soft that I almost miss his words. It takes a minute, but finally, I look up at Victor. "It's going to hurt, Vic. It's going to hurt us so bad..."

"What is?" He's still smiling, his eyes incandescent with strangely timed joy. He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"All of this." I'm trying to tell him. I'm trying to be honest, and he lays his hand to my lips in a gesture that's meant to silence me. I speak around the fingers. "There are no easy solutions, if we try to change things."

"Shhh...We'll get through it together. I know she loves you deep down; she can't possibly want to see you suffer like this anymore." He's smiling. To him it's already solved. He doesn't know the pain we have in store. He doesn't know that I can't make love to him.

I nod, slowly, and exhale. Then I take Vic's hand. It's a solemn moment. I try to tell him what my problem is. "She knows that I can't be her lover any more."

He looks a bit puzzled, but holds off on any further questions.

"Let's go."

Hand in hand we leave.

6: Nothing

Sitting target
Sitting waiting
Anticipating
Nothing
Nothing

Life
Is full of surprises
It advertises
Nothing
Nothing

What am I trying to do
What am I trying to say
I'm not trying to tell you anything
You didn't know
When you woke up today

Sitting target
Sitting praying
God is saying
Nothing
Nothing

Always
Knows the prospects
Learn to expect
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing, Depeche Mode--MUSIC FOR THE MASSES (1987) Sire Records

LiAnn:

I don't know what to do anymore. My world is falling apart, and I don't think I'll ever be able to put it back together.

I'm sitting here in the Director's office, finally being called to task for my stupidity on the Marken case; by myself for the first time since I first came into the Agency, and all I can think of is how quickly everything is changing for me. In less than a month, the world as I've known it for the past few years is suddenly gone. Everything, absolutely everything, has changed, and it makes me afraid--very, very afraid.

I don't do fear well. I'm used to being in control, having a handle on my life, and this is so far from it that I'm not sure I'll ever be able to get it back.

I'd like to be able to say it started when I walked in on my exes at Mac's the first time, but I know that isn't true. It started back in Hong Kong, when Mac first made the suggestion that we try to get out from under the Tang, maybe even before that. Michael was so crazy, so out of control, that it didn't take very much convincing to get me to agree. I was so afraid of him, what he was capable of scared me, and I was terrified of what he might do if I actually went through with the marriage--which I didn't want, but had no choice about--so I said yes. When the warehouse blew, a part of me died along with Mac, and I'm only just starting to realize that I've never gotten it back.

I really did love him, you know. So much so, that when Victor started making advances, I was absolutely hostile. Poor sweet Vic, he had absolutely no idea how hard I was fighting my feelings for him. He eventually prevailed, though; and while he couldn't take Mac's place in my heart, he had a niche of his own there, and I knew I'd at least be content as his wife. That was all that I could ask for. Then Mac dropped back into my life, upsetting the balance again, because I realized that my love for him wasn't as dead and buried as I wanted him, and Victor -- and myself -- to believe.

When I realized that the Director had known he was alive and well for all those months, I nearly had an apoplectic fit. Suddenly, I didn't know what I should do, or why I should do it. I mean, I loved Victor--he'd woken me out a long cold sleep--but I'd given up my life for Mac. I'd believed he was dead, and mourned for him desperately; then it seemed like a miracle when he reappeared in my life after so much time away.

To say I was confused is like saying a nuclear bomb merely explodes. I was devastated. I'd finally gotten on with my life and found someone who I admired and respected and loved--not in the same way I had Mac, of course, but loved nonetheless--and then Mac just showed up and turned my whole world on it's ear, expecting us just to pick right back up where we'd left off. *That* made me resentful. The nerve of him! How could he have done this to me? He'd left me pining away for him for a year and a half then just shown up with that infuriating grin of his, making my heart stutter and threatening to destroy my world yet again. I didn't know if I could take it.

I did mention that I don't do change well, didn't I?

I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. Every time I thought I had my mind made up, one or the other of them would do -- or say -- something that reminded me of why I fell for him in the first place, and I'd be right back where I started. I grew to resent that as well. I tried to do the right thing, I swear I did, but neither of them wanted to let go and I got used to that. Far too used to it, I've learned painfully over the last month.

Victor was right when he said I'd made my choice a long time ago. My problem was, I didn't want to hurt either of them and didn't see how I could manage to do what I wanted -- no *needed* -- to do without doing just that. I'd seen what merely postponing the engagement did to Vic. For my own reasons, selfish reasons, I couldn't imagine going through that with Mac too. So I did nothing; and now, here I am with nothing, and it's scaring me half to death.

See, Father sort of expected Mac and I to...well, you know. But then Michael popped up with wanting me for himself, and as much as Father loved us, he couldn't say no to his only son. He'd never been able to do that when it came to what Michael wanted. Now Michael's dead, and Mac...? Mac's lost to me forever. Both of my brothers are gone from my life, and I'm alone. I wish I could tell you that it was worth it. It isn't.

I knew it was over, really over, between Mac and me when I left his apartment yesterday. Sitting here now, I cringe inside with the memory of the things I said to him. I don't know where all this venom is coming from. No, that isn't quite true--I know where a great deal of it is coming from. I'm jealous as hell. Vic was never the way he is with Mac when we were together. He was sweet and attentive, but reserved. Sadly, I now realize Mac was the same way to a lesser degree and having to admit that the problem may have been mine rather than theirs is damned uncomfortable, as is the hard realization that I don't know either of them nearly as well as I assumed I did all of this time.

Looking back over my actions since I found out that my exes have gone on without me, I'm appalled at the way I've been behaving, but I don't know how to make it stop. Every time I see them together, it reminds me of what I don't have--what I let slip through my grasp--and twists the knife in my heart a little bit more. They told me they loved me, damn it--well, Mac never really did, but I knew anyway--they were supposed to always be there; but they're not there any more, and everything I currently have isn't worth the price I've paid for it.

Because I have a world full of nothing without love.

The Director has finally come for me. My heart starts pounding a bit, and I'm vaguely uneasy, but I'm here and even if I wasn't, I couldn't hide forever. I don't acknowledge my boss until she sits across from me and speaks.

"LiAnn. How very good of you to keep our appointment."

So that's how it's going to be. Fine. I can play this game. I shrug a bit. "It's not as if I had a choice."

The Director's voice goes cold, in that way she has when she's about to lay into one of the boys for something stupid. "You're right, you didn't. Do you have any idea why I called you here today?"

Yeah, I do; but I really don't feel like discussing it while my life is falling apart around me. Disconcerted, I glare at her mildly. "I hadn't really thought about it. Work, I suppose..."

"And what do you notice different about this particular meeting, Ms. Tsei?"

She's trying to trap me; I know she is, but I don't care. Nothing matters anymore. I fall back on one of Mac's tricks. "I don't know. You're wearing pink? Can we get to it? I hate these games."

"You are in no position to demand anything right now, LiAnn," she snaps. "It isn't my concern to make you comfortable. Do you happen to notice anything amiss? Something that doesn't seem quite right?" A long pause, and then, "something missing?"

I'm digging my own grave, I'm painfully aware of that; but just as I can't stop my reaction to Mac and Victor, I can't stop this either; my pride won't let me. "I'm aware that Vic's convalescing. Is that what you mean? I just assumed that you wanted to talk to me on my own."

"You're right, I do. But aren't you wondering why? When was the last time I briefed you on a mission alone? You are part of a team, after all," she watches me from narrowed eyes, aware of what I'm doing and the reasons for it but still, for whatever reason, deciding to indulge me. "Victor is on medical leave and Mac...well, Mac is not himself," boy, is that ever an understatement, "aren't you the slightest bit curious as to what kind of mission you could do by yourself?"

In for a penny..."The last time was when you sent me after the plans for development in front of your apartment."

"Yes, but your partners were out in the field as well. You were involved with the mission even though you didn't know it at the time. You were all briefed together...don't sulk, LiAnn; it's unattractive." She sounds for all the world like a proper schoolmarm running a lesson, and it's all I can do not to laugh. If I had anything worth laughing about, that is.

"I'm not sulking. I'm just wondering why you're telling me things I already know, and I'm sure you're going to tell me about my mission," you can start ripping into me any time, here...I know you want to.

She watches me for a bit, and then decides to get on with it. "Since you're going to be stubborn, I will ask you this: hasn't your sense of self-preservation kicked in yet?"

Yes, as a matter of fact it has, but I'm not listening to it right now, or I wouldn't be doing something as stupid as trying to bait you. "Look, I appreciate the kid glove treatment, but can we get to it? I really don't understand what you mean."

She does so, with gusto. "Fine, then. Your team leader is out until Monday, and your other partner is... incapacitated. The reason rests squarely on ourulders, LiAnn. In short, you owe me a pound of flesh, and I mean to have it. Is that plain enough for you?"

"You think that's MY fault?" My eyes go wide in shock. I expected to have to defend myself about Marken, but *this* is too much! "Oh, brother!"

"Absolutely. You made a foolish decision, one that not only put you in peril, but Mac and Victor as well. I cannot tolerate that. What's more, I will not tolerate it. I have invested too much in the three of you to let your petty jealousy lay it to waste."

No. No, no, no...I am *not* responsible for their bad choices...I'm not! "Mac's a lush. Don't you see that? He's unstable and he drinks. How is that all my fault? I admit that I made a mistake going after Marken on my own, but I thought that I would get back up from my partners. You remember them...they were supposed to be watching my back and were upstairs in a sex club screwing instead?"

The Director laughs evilly, and it sends a chill down my back, because I know she can see right through me. "That's a good story, LiAnn, but you forget how well I know you. You have been manipulating the boys since day one; and while I can appreciate a good head job as well as the next, you've carried it too far. Is your pride worth that much to you, dear?"

This hits me close to the heart, and I stand up, towering over the redheaded woman who is tormenting me. "Look, can we just get to the point? I don't see any reason for going after me. It's Mac you should be calling in to have your 'heart to heart' with."

"Sit down, Ms. Tsei. Now." Astonished at the sharp command, I do so abruptly, with none of the grace and deportment that Father paid so dearly to have drilled into me the summer I turned twelve. She then continues to skin me alive. "You wanted to make them pay--and pay they have. Mac is walking proof of it. Do you know what else he's been getting up to?"

Sullen and angry now, I mutter, "He could be doing anything. What makes you think I have any control over him?" I feel her eyes burning into me and snap my gaze up to glare at her defiantly.

"You amaze me," she says conversationally. "You don't want either of them. You don't want an intimate relationship with them, that's plain. But the minute they turn their attention away from you, you panic. Why is that?"

Again, a very palpable hit, and I feel my eyes go wide once more, as I shoot back to my feet. "You're getting very personal, aren't you? I don't see why I should stay here and listen to this." Why is she doing this to me? Why can't she leave me alone?

"Sit, or I will sit you, that's a promise. You belong to me. That means that I can be as personal as I like. Or are you forgetting that the Tangs have a price on your head too? The fact that you're a woman won't matter in the slightest and you know it."

My chin jerks up at that not-so-veiled threat. She hasn't done this to me in a very long time, and the fact that she chooses to now is telling. "You wouldn't."

But, of course, she would, and her next words only confirm that fact. "Think not? Just because you're my protégée doesn't mean you're not expendable. You'd do well to remember that," she's cool and smooth as black ice right now, and I hate her for it. She's never had to deal with the kind of devastation I'm facing at this moment. My life is nothing, and the sad truth of the matter is that I'm responsible for it being that way. This...job is all I have left.

The realization hits me hard, and I drop back down, morosely chewing on my lip. Now I know how Mac feels when he's in the hot seat. "What do you want to say to me? You'd better get it said," I snap, half-wishing she'd make good on her threat to ship me back to the Tang. I'd rather be anywhere but here.

"You're starting to piss me off, LiAnn." I say nothing, settling for a hostile glare from under lowered brow. She nods approvingly at my silence. "You owe me for the damage you've caused your partners. How are you going to repay me?"

"Am I here?" I mutter, too quietly for her to hear. "I'm sure you're going to tell me," is the official answer I go with.

"It's a start," she muses off-handedly, letting me know that I didn't get away with anything, "but perhaps you'll gain a better understanding of what I require of you if you see for yourself."

She turns away to the large TV screen at one end of her office and hits a switch. I recognize the view as Mac's apartment; and as I watch myself walk in and nudge Mac with my toe, I realize this is a tape of our confrontation yesterday.

Was it only yesterday? It feels like a lifetime ago.

I slump lower into my chair, close to tears as I watch the heartless bitch on the monitor berate and humiliate my beloved brother and knowing that it's me. Oh, god, the things I said--the evil nasty things I said, and everything I've done--the words run round and round in my head and are joined by Vic's tirade against me on the day of his release. I want to scream and rip my hair out, but know I will do no such thing; it would be too unseemly for a daughter of the great Tang Family.

The scene then switches, and it's Vic's apartment I see now. By the date stamp, I know that this is happening in real time, and my heart plummets. Mac takes a seat on the couch as Vic perches on the armchair, and I lean forward to hear in spite of myself.

"Okay then, Vic. Let me have it." Mac isn't happy, and I wonder how I could have missed it before. He sounds so final, so defeated, and my heart aches for him. Even so, I don't know how to begin to let him go--to let either of them walk away from me, or walk away from them myself. I have to if this is going to stop, and I don't think I'm strong enough.

"One thing before we start," Victor's voice is firm, his face compassionate. "No more drugs. It's done. Whatever help you need, we'll get, but you will stop using. Understand?"

Wait a minute...drugs? *What* drugs? I look to the Director for clarification, but she directs me back to the screen.

"I knew you were gonna say that. I knew..."

"Mac. This is about your life. No games. If you won't at least try, then I'll let you walk back out the door."

"You don't know, Vic, you just don't know." Mac sits, nervously twining and knotting his fingers; something I haven't seen him do since he first came to the Family. "You dragged me here, now you want me to go?"

"No. I don't want you to leave. But I can't watch you kill yourself either. I've done it once already. Mac, I love you. I will love you until the day I die and you can ask anything of me and I'll probably do it. But you can't ask me to watch you poison yourself. You can't..." I see the sadness of memory cross Victor's face and want to curl up and die. Why couldn't he have shared just a little more with me?

"I don't understand. What can we say to each other now? It's too late, isn't it? You think I wanted to lose you? I love you so much, Vic, so much. It's just that I couldn't let LiAnn die. It would've been my fault, and all for a few moments pleasure." He sounds devastated, and I'm starting to realize just how much sway I really had over Mac--as well as how much I abused the trust between us. I'd ask for forgiveness, but I know that it wouldn't be given anyway. Why should it be, with the way I've acted?

Victor sighs and runs a hand through his hair in frustration "You think that's what it was about at the club that night? Just a few minutes of pleasure? Not for me. I gave up my soul to you, Mac." He did, too; in a way that he never could have done with me. I wasn't open to the possibility before. It hurts to know this, know what I've missed out on--not once, but twice now.

Make it stop. Please?

Mac sits, hands moving aimlessly, an outward symptom of his inner turmoil. "Just tell me what it is that you want me to do, Vic. I don't have any more anything left inside me. Whatever I do, I know that it won't be enough..."

"Enough for who? Me? All I ever wanted from you was the love you were willing to give me. All I ever wanted was to make you happy."

"You have all the love I'm capable of giving, Vic. I never stopped loving you. It's just that sometimes we have to look past our own happiness. Don't you see? What do you want from me? You want me to love you? I do. I love you so much..." Mac's voice catches in his throat, and he falls silent.

"What do I want from you? I want you to live." I remember the softness of that voice when I'd wake from a nightmare about Mac dying, how it would soothe and calm me, and my heart clenches again. Victor, I'm so sorry for all the hurt I've caused.I don't have the words to say how much, and I don't even know if I can make it stop.

"For you?"

"For yourself. Stop being a martyr."

"When I take for myself, it all falls apart." Mac is hugging himself, and I know that he's afraid. He's afraid to reach out, and I wonder just how much of that fear I put into him. Oh, god, Mac; my sweet, beloved brother, forgive me. Please forgive me.

"Only if you let it. Only if you run away every time things start getting rough. This isn't gonna be easy, my baby, not by a long shot, but I promise I will make it up to you. Everything you have to suffer through to find your happiness, I will make up to you. I swear I will," even through the video feed, I can feel Vic's intensity, and it makes me want to kick myself for what I gave up with him. God, how pathetic! This is what got me where I am right now. My god, what the hell have I done? What have I become?

Mac makes a small sound that might be a laugh, and shakes his head. "How can you, when you don't even want to touch me?"

"What? Oh, god, baby...I'm dying to touch you, but you panic every time I do. I just don't want to scare you." He kneels in front of Mac on the floor. "Do you want me to touch you now?"

"Please..." Mac reaches out slowly and cups Victor's face. "Please," he says again, softly.

Victor caresses Mac's face just as slowly. I close my eyes and feel a tear roll down my cheek. Please, I can't watch this anymore; it hurts too badly. "Where? Tell me where," I hear, in Victor's husky, sensuous rasp, and I die a bit more inside.

"Anywhere...everywhere... Please, Vic."

"Okay. Come with me."

"Where?"

"Trust me. Can you do that?"

"Yeah. I always have, love. It's myself I can't trust."

I hear water running, but refuse to open my eyes. "Strip down, baby."

"What? Why?"

"You said you trusted me. Do you?" Victor's voice holds a hint of amusement. The water stops, and I hear small sounds, amplified by the tiling in the bath, then water rippling and Mac's voice again. "What are you doing, Vic? I'm feeling a little weird here."

"Shhh." More sounds of water rippling. "I thought you knew what a bath was, Mac."

"Yeah. Of course I know what a bath is, Vic. I want to know what the relevance of this particular bath might be."

"The hot water will make you feel better, and I get to do something I always wanted to do for you. Okay? Let me pamper you a little, baby." His voice holds a slight, pleading note and my unwilling mind supplies the puppy-dog look that I'm sure accompanies it.

"It had better not involve blowing raspberries on my wet flesh," I hear Mac grumble, half- heartedly.

"You spoil my fun..."

The audio cuts out, but I refuse to look up until the Director's hated voice cuts into me. When I do, the video has mercifully been turned off, but my relief is short-lived. "Were you aware, LiAnn, that Mac was sexually assaulted the day after you were taken?"

Reflex kicks in once more, and I feel my lip curl in derision. "So you did one of your famous midnight visits? I'm sure he survived." No! Stop this...why can't I stop this?

The Director smiles back nastily, aware of just how much I resented her treatment of Mac in that respect. "I'm afraid I can't take the credit. Seems our wandering boy came across some very bad men...at least 15 of them, if the genetic testing is to be believed. And one of them left a memento of the occasion." She tosses a slim folder in my direction. "But you don't have to take my word for it...see for yourself."

I feel the blood drain from my face, as a chill blasts over me. "What sort of a memento?"

She refuses to answer me, merely indicating the folder with a wave and I stare at her in horror.

"You mean...? But... That means that I could..." I take hold of the file with badly shaking hands, and the words 'Gonorrhea' and 'HIV: Inconclusive' leap out at me before I even get the folder completely open.

Oh my God. No, it never occurred to me. The chill races up my spine, as I realize I may have just signed my own death warrant.

Suddenly, I can't read anymore and throw the folder down onto the table; scooting my chair away from it and hugging myself tightly. "You're telling me that Mac has a venereal disease, and that I..., " I force a swallow in a suddenly too-tight throat, "you think that I could have caught it too?" Lie to me; please, please lie to me...

Not a chance. "I'd say it's more than likely. You see, Mac has only had the first shot in the series so far, and that was about a month ago."

"But we didn't... He couldn't..." I lapse back into silence; both of us knowing that I'd made love to Mac the day that Victor was discharged from the hospital, after that hateful diatribe to which Vic had subjected me. Mac had been reticent with me; but I'd gone down on him while he was sleeping, and then climbed onto him and taken his erection inside myself in triumph. He'd woken in the throes of an orgasm, shouting out Victor's name. That had been more than enough to make sure I didn't pull that kind of stunt again.

The Director arches an eyebrow at me in wry amusement. "I would suggest that you get down to the infirmary. Afterwards, you are to report back here. I'll have all the arrangements made by then. Go on now, shoo." I do so with all due haste.

Jackie catches up with me on my way to the infirmary, and I ignore her. Whatever the little bimbo has to say, I don't want to hear. Curiously, she stays silent, and so do I, not caring to strike up a conversation with her ever. I reach my destination and expect her to take her leave, report back to the Diva that I was a good little girl and receive her reward; but she doesn't. She walks in with me instead.

"Is this necessary?" I snarl, not wanting her to see how far my pride has pulled me down, which is really kind of stupid because she probably knows all the details anyway. Still, appearance is the thing, something Father drilled into all of us very young. No matter what, you must always try to save face in front of an adversary.

"I thought you might need a friend," is the simple, surprising response, and one that I have no answer for at present. As usual, I'm expected and the doctor gets right to it, not even questioning the blonde presence behind me. I'm subjected to a long, humiliating battery of testing and treatment, including being stuck with huge needles--something that I'm horribly phobic about.

Just as I'm about to fly off the table in a panic, I feel a hand in mine squeezing tightly and another on my shoulder. My gaze snaps up to Jackie's face and is captured by the compassion I see there, the same compassion I saw as she walked out of the hospital with Victor that day. I'm suddenly, horribly ashamed, and the tears spring to my eyes before I can stop them. Damn! I don't want her to see me this vulnerable again. Last time was bad enough.

"Just breathe," she tells me softly, and my eyes fall shut, squeezing the tears gathered there out. The hand on my shoulder goes up to stroke through my hair and I concentrate on the rhythm, timing my breathing to it. Soon, it's over and the doctor allows me to dress.

"The cuts are healing nicely, LiAnn. You've been following treatment?" I nod miserably, and she continues. "Well then, all you really need to do is follow up with the antibiotic treatment. I'll expect you back in a week. If you can't make it in, arrangements will be made to get it to you, okay?" Another nod as she hands me a sheet of instructions. "You're free to go."

I walk out and stop dead in my tracks. I'm supposed to return to the Director's office, but I can't face her right now...still, I can't just leave either. I stand indecisively, jumping when the hand lands on my shoulder again. I'd forgotten about Jackie. I suppose I have no choice then. I start to walk back toward the Diva's lair, when I feel a tug on my hand.

"Come on," my erstwhile partner urges, leading me towards the canteen instead. "You look like you could use a cup of tea. She can wait a bit." Dazedly, I follow, wondering at this side of Jackie Janczyk that I've never seen before. If I didn't know better, I'd think that she really cares.

We sit in companionable silence, which is a shock for me because Jackie's mouth is usually going non-stop. What's even more confusing is how readily I'm accepting all of this. I let the events of the past month or so tumble through my mind, becoming aware of how incongruous Jackie's attitude toward me has become. A blush steals over me as I remember the Agency awards, and the catfight we got into in front of everybody. It was the talk of the organization for weeks afterward, as well as the subject of some pretty lurid speculation by Mac and Vic. Men. So predictable sometimes. I sigh unhappily, wondering what I can do about that situation and feeling the hopelessness that is my life steal up on me once more.

"You ready to get back?"

Jackie snaps me back to reality, and I glance down at my tea. I haven't even touched it, and my stomach is too upset to keep anything down. I nod, and she glances at my cup but says nothing. We walk back the way we came, still with that comfortable silence that seems to have settled over us.

It turns uncomfortable as soon as we walk into the Director's office again. As usual, she is nowhere to be found, but Vic and Mac are there, and I feel the knife turning again. I take the end seat, as I feel the bitter cold of discontent and regret steal over me once more, briefly abated by Jackie's hand on my shoulder before she goes over to sit on the end of the conference table.

An endless moment passes before the Director comes in, and suddenly it's as if the last little while with Jackie never happened. Idly kicking her feet and loudly snapping her gum, she's back to being the obnoxious little mob brat she's always been. I blink in astonishment as the Director gets to it.

"Well, children; this is what happens now. The four of you are going on a retreat together. Also, any personal problems are going to be addressed during your stay there," she spares a pointed glance for me as she says this.

"A retreat?" Mac looks a little confused, and I can't blame him. "What the hell for?"

"Because you need to learn to work as a team again, Mr Ramsey. There are some very obvious issues that need to be addressed within the group and the purpose of this trip is to help you get them settled."

Mac shudders in revulsion. "Oh, God. Welcome to hell."

"Mr. Ramsey, I'm not sure you fully appreciate how many strings I had to pull to get the four of you in on such short notice. This program is the best the Agency has and you will take full advantage of it, am I clear on that point?"

"Distressingly so, thanks. I don't suppose I can just go home and go back to bed?"

"Sadly, no. But not to worry, you'll get plenty of sleep on the trip there. And one more thing, any...*hostilities* that are festering at the moment will be put aside immediately. Understood?" Another look at me, to make sure I get the point.

"Hostilities?" Jackie grins and snaps her gum once more, and I want to strangle her. "Like, come on guys, take the edge off." She winks at Victor and turns away, ignoring his growl of frustration as well as the fact that I'm making a face at her.

"Do we pack?" Mac asks. "There's a bunch of stuff I need. I have to go home." He's beginning to panic, and I finally recognize the signs I should have seen all along; the signs I * have * seen off and on over the years, and just put down to Mac being Mac. God, I've been so blind and stupid! Mac, how long have you kept this from me?

The Director is, as always, cool and collected. "You need nothing more than what you have at the moment, Mac. Everything else will be provided for you. Ah, Dobrinsky, right on time as usual. Go on then, children. Time to go."

Mac continues to protest even as we turn to leave. "But... I need to go home and get... my stuff. I can't just go away. How long is it going to last, anyway?"

The Director turns away then, catching Dobrinsky's and Victor's gazes very briefly in turn, and I feel so out of the loop. I'm his sister, damn it! "Why, as long as it needs to, Mac dear. Now run along...your car is waiting," with that, she waves us off again.

"Come on, Ace...time to get going..." Mac turns as if to run, but stops, his shoulders sagging in defeat as Dobrinsky grins evilly at him. He takes Mac firmly by the arm and leads him out of the conference room. Mac allows it after a long, last look at Vic to make sure he's coming along. I die a bit more at the stark reminder of what I've lost with him--with both of them.

"Victor? A moment, please?" Mac panics again at that, and I want to reach out and soothe him, but I know he wouldn't accept it from me now, so I keep my hands to myself. Victor turns back after one long last look at Mac and waits as we're hustled off. A few minutes later, Vic rejoins us and Mac visibly relaxes at seeing him again.

"Baby, you okay?" Vic murmurs gently as he kisses Mac on the cheek, and my heart flips over again at the tender display. I try to push down on the jealousy, unsuccessfully.

"I am now," is the quiet response. "What was that about?"

"Nothing, baby. Just some last minute instructions." Vic's lying. I can see it from here and I think Mac can too. But he says nothing, and it's no longer my place to do so.. Silently, we load into the car and head for the airport.

I don't know where we're going, or what's going to happen next; but I do know that whatever happens, my life as I've known it is finally over. Whether or not I can go on from here is anybody's guess.

I suppose we'll see.

The Director:

Well, it's time to find out exactly what I can salvage from the wreck of the Ashwin Marken case. So far, the boys are looking good; they are even now unknowingly meeting up with each other at the Royal Museum and I have complete faith that Victor can persuade Mac to submit to his tender mercies once more--especially given the fact that the younger man has finally cut his more unhealthy ties to LiAnn as of yesterday.

LiAnn, however, is a much different story. I'm loath to give up on her--I truly am--but she has become such a problem of late that I may not have the luxury of choice. I watch her even now from the privacy of my inner office as she fidgets and broods and then turn to the blonde sitting across from me quietly.

"You're sure this is what you want?" I ask seriously. "She is a difficult one, and you're going to have a hard fight ahead."

"I'm sure," Jackie Janczyk answers just as seriously, none of the Valley Girl mob queen in her demeanor now. "LiAnn is what I want. Mac and Vic are fine in their own way, but I missed my chance with both of them. I don't want to do the same with her."

She'll make a fine Sexual Espionage operative...someday. For now, I need her help and she knows it. "Done. You have carte blanche." The smile on Jackie's face is pure joy, and I wonder briefly what I've just agreed to in giving her this, "but if you harm her in any way with this relationship, you *will* answer to me. Painfully. Agreed?"

"Agreed," she purrs back before sauntering to the door that leads directly out into the hallway. She pauses at the last moment to look back over her shoulder, "and Di, you won't regret this, I promise." With a wink, a blown kiss and an ostentatious sway of her considerable assets, she disappears through the door and leaves me alone.

"You had better hope not, young lady," is my muttered reply, "or I'll make sure *you* will."

I idle away another half-hour or so, leaving LiAnn to fret and fume a bit more before coming down to confront her about her behavior these past few weeks. I must admit that it is somewhat disconcerting to have to play out this scene with her after so long--it's usually Mac needing the kind of discipline I'm preparing to dish out. Still, I will do what I must to get my Alpha team back on track; and like it or not, I must do this. The fact that I'm also going to enjoy it only makes it that much easier.

"LiAnn. How very good of you to keep our appointment."

I hear the quiet intake of breath, and smile slightly. She's afraid. Good. That's only as it should be.

"It's not as if I had a choice."

Her petulance both annoys and excites me. I'd forgotten how deliciously stubborn she can be. "You're right, you didn't. Do you have any idea why I called you here today?"

I receive a glare in response. "I hadn't really thought about it. Work, I suppose..."

I cut her off. "And what do you notice different about this particular meeting, Ms. Tsei?"

She fumes silently for a brief moment, then, "I don't know. You're wearing pink? Can we get to it? I hate these games."

Perfect. "You are in no position to demand anything right now, LiAnn," I snap harshly, enjoying the way she jumps when I do, "it isn't my concern to make you comfortable. Do you happen to notice anything amiss? Something that doesn't seem quite right?" A long pause, then, "something missing?"

"I'm aware that Vic's convalescing, is that what you mean? I just assumed that you wanted to talk to me on my own," the knowledge that she's only getting herself in deeper with me is there in her dark, dark eyes, but her mouth is currently running of its own accord.

That's okay, I know how to be patient. "You're right, I do. But aren't you wondering why? When was the last time I briefed you on a mission alone? You are part of a team, after all," she watches me from narrowed eyes, unsure of where I'm going with this line of inquiry; which suits me just fine. "Victor is on medical leave, and Mac...well, Mac is not himself; aren't you the slightest bit curious as to what kind of mission you could do by yourself?"

"The last time was when you sent me after the plans for development in front of your apartment."

"Yes, but your partners were out in the field as well. You were involved with the mission even though you didn't know it at the time. You were all briefed together..." I notice the pout marring her beautiful face, and decide to mention it to keep her off-balance. "Don't sulk, LiAnn; it's unattractive."

"I'm not sulking," is the petulant comeback. "I'm just wondering why you're telling me things I already know, and I'm sure you're going to tell me about my mission."

I watch her closely, loving her discomfort, and decide to spin it out a bit more. "Since you're going to be stubborn, I will ask you this: hasn't your sense of self-preservation kicked in yet?" I ask ominously.

"Look, I appreciate the kid glove treatment, but can we get to it? I really don't understand what you mean."

Ask, my dear, and you shall receive..."Fine, then. Your team leader is out until Monday, and your other partner is... incapacitated. The reason rests squarely on your shoulders, LiAnn. In short, you owe me a pound of flesh, and I mean to have it. Is that plain enough for you?"

Her eyes go wide. "You think that's MY fault?" she squeaks. "Oh, brother!"

Time to hammer it home. "Absolutely. You made a foolish decision, one that not only put you in peril, but Mac and Victor as well. I cannot tolerate that. What's more, I will not tolerate it. I have invested too much in the three of you to let your petty jealousy lay it to waste."

Panicking now, she's looking for a way out. "Mac's a lush. Don't you see that? He's unstable and he drinks. How is that all my fault? I admit that I made a mistake going after Marken on my own, but I thought that I would get back up from my partners. You remember them...they were supposed to be watching my back and were upstairs in a sex club screwing instead?"

I laugh evilly. Nice try, little one, but we both know better than that. "That's a good story, LiAnn, but you forget how well I know you. You have been manipulating the boys since day one; and while I can appreciate a good head job as well as the next, you've carried it too far. Is your pride worth that much to you, dear?"

She shoots to her feet to tower over me, and I let my gaze turn harder and colder than I've ever let her see before. "Look, can we just get to the point? I don't see any reason for going after me. It's Mac you should be calling in to have your 'heart to heart' with."

My voice matches my countenance as the words 'Sit down, Ms. Tsei. Now,' ring out in the air between us. With a look of utter incredulity on her face, she drops like a bag of rocks back into her chair. "You wanted to make them pay--and pay they have. Mac is walking proof of it. Do you know what else he's been getting up to?"

"He could be doing anything," is the poisonously bitter retort, "what makes you think I have any control over him?" She eyeballs me harshly after that telling outburst.

"You amaze me," I inform her mildly. "You don't want either of them. You don't want an intimate relationship with them, that's plain, but the minute they turn their attention away from you, you panic. Why is that?" There is nothing semantic about the question; I would truly like to know.

It seems I've once again strayed too close to a sensitive subject for my protégée as she shoots back to her feet. "You're getting very personal, aren't you? I don't see why I should stay here and listen to this." Her eyes are wild and hunted, and I know I'm pushing her hard, but I need to if this is ever going to be solved.

"Sit, or I will sit you, that's a promise. You belong to me. That means that I can be as personal as I like. Or are you forgetting that the Tangs have a price on your head too? The fact that you're a woman won't matter in the slightest and you know it."

Her chin jerks up at that statement of fact and I can see that she's starting to realize just how tenuous her situation is. "You wouldn't."

"Think not? Just because you're my protégée doesn't mean you're not expendable. You'd do well to remember that."

LiAnn continues to stand for a few seconds more as reality brutally intrudes on the selfish delusion she's been suffering under these last few weeks. She drops back into her seat wearily, and eyes me once more. "What do you want to say to me? You'd better get it said."

Ah, yes; so deliciously stubborn. I'd forgotten how much I missed it from her.

"You're starting to piss me off, LiAnn." She says nothing then, merely watches me with an angry gleam in her eyes, and I nod my appreciation. "You owe me for the damage you've caused your partners. How are you going to repay me?"

She mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, 'Am I here?' before taking a deep breath and saying, "I'm sure you're going to tell me," in a slightly more subdued tone.

"It's a start," I tell her lightly, knowing I've hit the mark when her eyes tear away from mine, "but perhaps you'll gain a better understanding of what I require of you if you see for yourself."

I hit the switch for the VCR, cueing up the tape I ran through earlier--a feed from one of the numerous surveillance devices I have in place to keep tabs on my agents. As the scene from Mac's apartment fills the screen, LiAnn slumps in her chair; lower lip slightly trembling as she is faced with the irrefutable proof of just how far she's carried her selfishly destructive streak. I would have shown her the events before her confrontation with Mac as well, but I'd like to get on with this and I think the one I have says so much more than the footage of Mac by himself.

When the confrontation is done, I hit the button for Victor's apartment and watch as the boys come in from their afternoon at the museum. Oh, good, I'm not too late. As Mac takes a seat on the couch and Victor perches on the armchair, I notice LiAnn leaning forward a bit. This is also good.

When Victor mentions the word drugs, LiAnn turns to me in wide-eyed apprehension and confusion. I direct her back to the screen. Spying on them is one thing, but somehow I consider telling her outright to be a strange breach of trust on my part. Illogical? Perhaps; but then I've never claimed to be completely rational anyway--especially where these three agents are concerned.

When I realize that LiAnn has closed her eyes and isn't going to open them again, I turn off the monitor. I had expected her to ask about the cuts and scratches that Mac is sporting, but she's too caught up in her own misery really to have noticed them. That won't do at all. I decide to lay it on the line with her. "Were you aware, LiAnn, that Mac was sexually assaulted the day after you were taken?"

Shock glimmers deep in her eyes, even as her lip curls in derision. "So you did one of your famous midnight visits? I'm sure he survived."

I smile back predatorily. LiAnn has always resented the way I've chosen to handle Mac and to a lesser degree, Victor, with equal parts sensuality, sexuality and aggression. What can I say? Coming up through Sexual Espionage with the kind of training I've had will do that to a person and I make no apologies for it. It's eased her way with the two of them more times than she knows. "I'm afraid I can't take the credit. Seems our wandering boy came across some very bad men...at least 15 of them, if the genetic testing is to be believed, and one of them left a memento of the occasion." I toss the file with Mac's current test results toward her, "but you don't have to take my word for it...see for yourself."

"What sort of a memento?" she asks in a small voice, as I indicate the folder that she still refuses to pick up. "You mean...? But... That means that I could..."

She finally takes hold of the file with badly shaking hands, then tosses it back down and scoots away from it as if it were a rattlesnake. "You're telling me that Mac has a venereal disease, and that I...you think that I could have caught it too?"

She's near hysteria and begging me for a lie with her eyes, but as much as I 'd like to, I can't. "I'd say it's more than likely. You see, Mac has only had the first shot in the series so far, and that was about a month ago."

"But we didn't... He couldn't..." she falls silent once more. We both know that she did indeed, the day Victor was discharged. I have the tape of it, but where most people would see a heartless shrew trying to get revenge, I saw the desperation of someone trying to reach out for something they hadn' t realized they'd lost until far too late.

Oh, LiAnn; my poor confused girl--you're finally starting to realize what you've given up by refusing to make a choice. I attempt to convey my understanding of her situation without looking as if I'm succumbing to pity. "I would suggest that you get down to the infirmary. Afterwards, you are to report back here. I'll have all the arrangements made by then. Go on now, shoo."

She tears out of the office as though her hair is on fire, and I trust that Jackie will keep a watchful eye on her for the next little while.

I turn back to the monitor and watch as my boys start to find their way back to each other with whispered words, tender touches and sweet sucking of Victor's exquisite dick on Mac's part. After bearing witness to Victor's silent tears, I pick up the phone and start dialing. The beginning they've made is fine; but without some judicious intervention, it will all be for nothing. And I am a very hands-on kind of girl.

When the party on the other end picks up and I hear the familiar rumble, a delicious shiver that has nothing to do with charity and everything to do with lust that has suddenly spiked itself straight into my groin runs the length of me. "Christian, darling; it's Kit. I need a favor..."

Forty-five minutes later, the arrangements are made, and I'm about to go check on LiAnn but there's one more thing I need to do. I hit the speed dial once more.

Victor's sleepy voice answers on the third ring. "Mansfield..." he mumbles, looking like a great contented cat as he stretches on-screen.

"Hello, Victor?"

"Yeah..." He yawns uncontrollably as he stretches again and I can't keep from running a finger down the exposed side of his body as he writhes sensuously for the camera. So beautiful, and so very, very clueless. It's just as well that he and Mac have never really responded to the pre-cursory Sexual Espionage testing, but I can't help being disappointed. They would have been devastating at it, and I know for a fact that Vic would have been a complete natural given his rather uninhibited Vice background.

No help for it now, though. I like him just where he is. "I think that it's time for you to return to the fold, don't you?"

His voice becomes cautious and he glances unerringly up at the nearly invisible camera embedded in the light fixture of his living room as he shifts more onto his side in front of Mac. "Uh...I'm not supposed to be back until next week? Did something happen?"

"Oh, I'd say so. About an hour ago? I'm sure you'll remember if you try."

He sighs in a long-suffering way before responding, but at least he isn't shooting out the equipment any more. It was getting to the point where the techs were starting to refuse the service calls. "Shit...look, I wasn't aware that my off-time was so interesting. Besides, I needed to ask...a favor..."

He's hesitant as he says this and stroking Mac's hand lovingly as it spans his belly; so I have a pretty good idea of what he wants. "A favor? You interest me, Victor. Go on. Ask your favor." Hell, I'm feeling magnanimous today.

"Mac is not up to par...and I was hoping that you could hold off on calling him back in until next week too. He hasn't been sleeping...or eating...he needs the rest," there is a tenderness in his voice that he would vehemently deny if I were to call it to his attention, so I don't.

"I'm well aware of that, Victor. That's why I'm calling you. I think it's time for you to go on a little retreat. I want you to bring him in with you. I'll be waiting," I'm about to hang up but there is something in his face as he gazes at me through the camera that makes me wait.

He finally spits it out before the silence becomes too great. "Did you know about what's been going on with him?"

"I probably know better than you what's been going on with him." He deserves that much at least.

"You probably do," he sighs discontentedly again. "Will you tell me something if I ask? The truth?"

Unable to help myself, I give a small chuckle of delight. "Victor, this sweet docility is charming. I might. What do you want to know?"

"He was gang-banged...you knew...that was why you didn't let me see him, wasn't it?" he sounds so forlorn as he glances over his shoulder at his battered lover who is still resting peacefully, and my heart melts the tiniest bit.

"I thought that you and he needed a little space. It wouldn't have helped either of you. You know that, don't you, Victor?"

He sighs heavily once more. "Yes. Give us an hour, okay? And Di?"

"Victor?"

"Thanks." There is a click as the phone is replaced and I sit looking at it for a moment before putting it down. Well, well--who would have thought that Victor Mansfield would leave me speechless twice in a lifetime? I finally replace the phone in its cradle and give one last wistful stroke to the two lovers gracing my screen before going down to the infirmary to see what is happening with LiAnn.

Just over an hour later, the four of them are gathered together once more as I walk in; Mac and Victor sitting next to each other with LiAnn to the side -- as Jackie makes herself comfortable on the end of my solid oak conference table. One of these days I'm going to indulge myself and turn that child over my knee. She is absolutely *begging* for a good paddling, which I will be more than happy to give, and she will probably be just as glad to get.

As it is, I have more important concerns. "Well, children; this is what happens now. The four of you are going on a retreat together. Also, any personal problems are going to be addressed during your stay there," I fix each of them with a stern look as I tell them this to make sure they get the point.

"A retreat?" Mac squeaks. "What the hell for?"

"Because you need to learn to work as a team again, Mr Ramsey. There are some very obvious issues that need to be addressed within the group and the purpose of this trip is to help you get them settled."

Mac shudders and rolls his eyes dramatically. "Oh, God. Welcome to hell."

I glare at him again and he shrinks into his seat. "Mr. Ramsey, I'm not sure you fully appreciate how many strings I had to pull to get the four of you in on such short notice. This program is the best the Agency has and you will take full advantage of it, am I clear on that point?"

However, he still can't keep his pretty mouth in check. "Distressingly so, thanks. I don't suppose I can just go home and go back to bed?"

I counter with an overly sympathetic purr that I know he hates. "Sadly, no. But not to worry, you'll get plenty of sleep on the trip there. And one more thing, any...*hostilities* that are festering at the moment will be put aside immediately. Understood?" Another look around the table to make sure they know I mean business.

"Hostilities?" Jackie's persona is firmly back in place, and I can't help but admire the confused irritation on LiAnn's face. "Like, come on guys, take the edge off." She winks at Victor and turns away, but not before getting the desired response from her chosen target as LiAnn pulls a face at her. I forcefully smother a chuckle as Victor emits a husky growl under his breath.

"Do we pack?" This from Mac, who is starting to panic as realization that he's going to be without a steady supply of Ecstasy for a while sets in. "There's a bunch of stuff I need. I have to go home."

Which is exactly the point. "You need nothing more than what you have at the moment, Mac. Everything else will be provided for you. Ah, Dobrinsky, right on time as usual. Go on then, children. Time to go."

Mac continues to protest in vain and I see the awareness of the cause on Victor's face. Well, Victor, I didn't say it would be easy. "But... I need to go home and get... my stuff. I can't just go away. How long is it going to last, anyway?"

I catch Dobrinsky's and Victor's gazes very briefly as I turn away. Knowing that they both understand what's at stake gives me a bit more confidence. "Why, as long as it needs to, Mac dear. Now run along...your car is waiting," I wave them off again with a nonchalance I'm far from feeling.

"Come on, Ace...time to get going..." Mac makes as if to run, but stops, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he realizes there's nowhere for him to go. Dobrinsky takes Mac firmly by the arm and leads him out of the conference room and he allows it after a long last look at Vic to make sure he's coming along. Calm yourself, little one...he'll be there shortly.

After I've satisfied my curiosity.

"Victor? A moment, please?" Mac's eyes widen at that, and I think that he may have to be sedated for the trip, but he permits himself to be led out after a long moment of silent communication with Victor, who waits with barely concealed impatience to hear what I have to say.

I get right to it. "You realize, of course, that you're in for a long hard fight?" Now where have I heard that before?

The emerald eyes widen in alarm, then narrow to a suspicious glare. "Listen to me. I will do whatever it takes. He's mine. Hear me?"

Men. So predictable sometimes. "Down, boy. No need to snarl at me. I just want you to be prepared. To understand that there is a chance for failure here. Are you prepared for that, Victor?"

"There's no chance of failure," his voice is hard and sure, and I feel the power of his conviction crackle around him like electric light. "You don't understand. No way will I fail. He's mine."

But I do understand, Victor. It's why I've tried so hard to keep something like this from happening before. "I hope you're right, Vic. Just remember that I'm here if you need me. We have our differences, but I do care about what happens to all of you. I wouldn't push you so hard if I didn't." I will him to feel the truth of that statement as we face off for a small eternity.

Finally, I see a minute softening in him and decide to take a bit of pity. "Run along now, I'm sure Mac's about ready to jump out of his skin," I say lightly, shooing him with yet another wave and knowing that there is nothing more to say or be said. We all just have to ride it out now and hope for the best.

Victor knows it too; I can see it in the long, dark scowl he gives me before finally turning away to rejoin his companions. When he reaches the door he looks back over his shoulder. "It won't be needed, but thanks."

I wait until I know he's gone and can no longer hear me. "I hope you're right," I repeat with a harsh sigh, "because God help us all if you're not."

(coming soon) In Your Room

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