Victor Mansfield had never been a religious man, but he now knew what hell must be like. The first blast knocked him off his feet, although the concrete floor of the derelict warehouse was softer under him than he'd expected. Ahead, he could see the door out, the one they'd almost reached, and he started to struggle to his feet, trying to ignore the blinding pain from his shoulder and the ringing in his ears.

The ringing made the second blast almost silent, but it certainly had enough force to knock him down again. LiAnn was under him, he realized, and he curled around her, trying to shield her from the debris that was raining down on them in larger and larger chunks. He couldn't tell where Mac was.

Then the third blast hit and as everything went black, he was grateful.

Unconscious, he wouldn't feel the flames that were starting to rise around them.

* * * * *

The first thing that Vic was aware of was the lack of awareness. He was floating, nothing touching him, in a sea of black.

Then there was a light. A quick flash of color. Followed by another. Like the tentative start of a fireworks display, slowly increasing in speed until it was a near-blinding display of psychedelic designs.

Then, gradually, a sound appeared out of the silence; a steady beep-beep-beep that seemed to echo the beating of his heart. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't remember what. He reached for the thought, the memory, but it shimmered just out of reach, teasing him like a dancer behind a plate of glass.

Ivy. The name surged to the front of his mind to go with the image. He could see her, dressed in white. The flashing lights were back, providing a backdrop as she danced, seductive, sensuous. Not many strippers could do that. They just wiggled their hips and let their measurements make up for the lack of ability. Not Ivy. She *danced*.

She danced for Vic, but she was talking about something at the same time. He wasn't there to watch, he was there to listen. He just couldn't remember what he was listening for, though. But there was something important that he needed to know. It was the first moment when he realized that there was something wrong.

His memory was still on the fritz, but he knew wasn't supposed to be there alone. In fact, he *wasn't* alone. Someone was sitting next to him. Someone. LiAnn.

Suddenly, the image of the dancer in white was replaced by a slender oriental woman, a soft smile on her lips. LiAnn. He loved her. She loved him. She left him. He flinched as he remembered her telling him that she was postponing the engagement. A polite fiction, covering up the fact that she was dumping him. Dumping him like everyone else had.

LiAnn was there. That meant someone should be there. Mac. Mac should be there. They were a team, the three of them. Teams should be together.

There he was. Tall, slim and dignified, dressed in a designer suit and silk shirt. He was smirking about something, and Vic fought the urge to wipe the expression from his face. But then the smirk turned to a genuine smile. One that lit up warm brown eyes in a youthful face. Mac was annoying, irreverent, always in his face. Mac was always there when he needed him, when he needed a friend.

Mac. Something tugged at his memory. Mac was in danger, it said. But how?

Ivy was back again. She was talking about the Janczyks. Another blonde appeared, short and feisty and not very stable. Jackie. Ivy was talking about her and something else. The Tangs.

Michael!

Suddenly, everything snapped into focus. The fight with Pucci. Michael Tang suckering them, only to try to kill Mac. Mac, inside an abandoned warehouse rigged to blow. He'd gone running in, finding Mac unconscious, a huge light fixture dropped on top of him. He'd moved the light fixture and pulled Mac up. Then LiAnn was there too, and they were running.

Running. And running. And running.

And the world exploded in flames.

He had to wake up! His partners needed him!

There were voices now, but he couldn't understand them. He tried to open his eyes, but the bright lights stabbed at them, forcing them shut again. He felt touches, recognizing the pressure more than anything else. A pinch. A prick.

And the gentle haze rose up to take him away again, and Ivy was dancing behind his eyelids.

He was so tired.

* * * * *

Victor woke in stages. He vaguely remembered people waking him up and asking him questions, but it seemed like some sort of a strange dream. He'd had some very strange dreams too, of dancing women. Ivy and Antonella and LiAnn and others. An endless line of his failures in the realm of romance.

He opened his eyes cautiously, and winced at the bright lights, but this time it was bearable. He vaguely remembered doing this before, but the lights had been too painful to keep his eyes open. He shifted slightly, and groaned as bruises and other physical aches and pains made themselves known. He almost wanted the drug haze back. He wanted to go back to sleep. But he needed to know what had happened.

There was a soft scrape of a chair being pushed back, followed by a gentle touch to his hand. Squinting, he was just barely able to make out the elegant features of LiAnn Tsei, his former fiancée and one of his partners, through watering eyes.

"Vic, can you hear me?"

Vic groaned, his voice sounding very loud in the room. The only other sound in the room besides them was the monotonous beeping of the medical monitors.

"Bright," he croaked, his throat feeling like it had been sandblasted.

"Just a second," she said. The touch and face disappeared, but after a moment, the lights dimmed until he could open his eyes without pain.

LiAnn was back at his side. Now that he could see better, he could see the lines of strain on her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, and a large bruise spread across one side of her face, making it look unbalanced. He could see bandages on her arms and neck. The way her clothes bulged in places suggested that there were more that he couldn't see.

"Y'okay?" he said, not able to speak any louder than a hoarse whisper. It still hurt though.

"Yeah," she whispered. "What do you remember?"

"We killed Pucci. Michael betrayed us. Mac. Explosion." He gasped, the effort of saying so much straining his throat. He wondered why his throat was so sore.

LiAnn reached past him for something he couldn't see. Her hand returned to his field of view holding a glass of clear liquid, a straw stuck in it. She held the long straw angled so that he could sip.

The water was room-temperature, but he was certain he'd never tasted anything sweeter. He held the first sip in his mouth, allowing the water to soak into fluid-starved tissues. Then he sucked at the straw greedily.

He'd only taken several gulps before she took the straw away. He wanted to protest, but knew she was right. Too much, too soon, would just make him sick.

"Mac?" he asked again, his voice stronger this time. LiAnn nodded to the side, and he carefully turned his head in the same direction.

There was a second hospital bed in the room, Mac lying on it, still as death to Vic's eyes. The only indication that he was still alive was the activity of the monitors and the slight rise and fall of the young man's chest. Mac looked even paler than normal, except for those places covered in colorful bruising. His handsome features were completely slack.

"How long?" he asked, turning back to LiAnn. His voice was almost normal now.

"Nearly a day. We were almost to the door when the bombs started going off. I was just ahead of the two of you, and when the explosion threw us to the ground, the two of you landed on top of me. Broke four of my ribs."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. The two of you shielded me from a lot of the stuff that was flying around. The two of you took the worst of it. Burns, lacerations and torn muscles. You're going to be a while recovering, both of you. Still, we're lucky we survived. The only thing that *did* save us was how close we were to the doors. The rescuers were able to get to us before the flames did."

"Mac?"
 

"He's a little worse off. He was already injured when you found him, and the explosion just made it worse. They've been waking him every couple hours because of his concussion, but he doesn't stay awake long."

Vic nodded, glancing over again to reassure himself that his other partner was still breathing. "Michael?" he asked, his expression hardening. If not for him, none of them would be hurt. Mac and LiAnn's foster brother and former partner as thieves for the Tang Family had shown up, claiming to be reformed and wanting to reunite with his long-lost siblings, more than two years after his apparent death. They'd all been taken in by the act, except for Mac. Mac was the only one who'd been suspicious and in the end, he had been right. It had all been a trick, a ruse designed to make the two trust him again. Then he would destroy that trust. Kill them.

He'd almost succeeded.

A single tear ran down LiAnn's cheek. "He's dead. I shot him. The car crashed, and exploded. The body was so badly burned that they had to use dental records to confirm it was him."

"They're absolutely certain?" Vic asked. Dental records could always have been falsified.

"Yes," she whispered, and Vic remembered belatedly just *how* much she had wanted to believe.

She slipped her hand into his, and he tightened his grip as much as he could. "I'm sorry," he said honestly. Sorry that she had to kill him, not that Tang was dead. If anyone deserved to die, it had been Michael Tang.

She brushed the tear away. "Don't be. I'm not. I... I'm just glad that Father wasn't here to see it."

She stepped back, obviously trying to regain her composure. Vic gave her a moment before asking, "Where are we? A hospital?"

LiAnn shook her head. "No. The ambulances took us and the Director to the hospital, but she got us transferred. We're back at the Agency, in the medical facilities. She said that Agency doctors know a few tricks that the regular doctors don't. Besides, we'd be safer here."

Vic wasn't sure he believed that last bit, but there was little he could say. Besides...

"Tired," he mumbled, losing energy fast. He knew what he needed to know. Now he wanted to sleep again. Maybe everything would turn out to be a bad dream if he just went back to sleep.

LiAnn patted his hand. "I'll be here when you wake up," she promised, then bent and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Vic sighed. So long since he'd been comforted that way. He missed it. So long alone. He didn't want to be alone anymore. He slipped back to sleep.

* * * * *

When Vic woke again, he had the feeling it was day again. It was hard to tell, since they were several levels below ground, and there were no windows in the room as a result, but it felt like day. There were noises in the hallways that hadn't been there when he'd woken up before. Soft voices, footsteps, the clatter of a push cart with a loose wheel. Normal noises.

And there was a sound missing. The medical monitors. Turning his head, he saw that Mac was still sleeping, but this time it looked like a more natural slumber. The monitors that had been hooked up to him were gone.

Vic reached for the bed controls and carefully raised the head of the bed so that he was in an almost upright position. The sound of the motor whirring woke LiAnn, who was sleeping in a comfortable armchair in the corner of the room.

Immediately, she was at his side, pressing the call button. "How do you feel?" she asked, grinning at him. He grinned right back, then winced.

"Like a herd of elephants practiced tap-dancing on my body. How long was I out?"

"Nine hours. It's nearly lunchtime. They let you sleep through, since it had been a full day without any problems."

Vic felt absurdly pleased about being right that it was day. It wasn't like the odds were big against it. Daylight filled a good chunk of the day, even in the early winter.

The door opened and a man stepped through, obviously summoned by the button LiAnn and pressed. The white coat, stethoscope and clipboard screamed 'doctor', even though he looked awfully young. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five. Of course, being oriental, it wasn't really easy to judge his age. They always look far too young until the day they suddenly aged to senior citizen overnight, or so it had seemed to Vic.

The man's face lit up in a smile. "Good morning, Mr. Mansfield. Welcome back to the land of the living. I'm sure that the Director will be pleased to have you back with us. I'm Doctor Chang."

The man proceeded to do the usual doctor-type things: Checking blood-pressure, pupil dilation, hearing, heart-rate and all the other bits and pieces. He checked off items on his pad, humming to himself as he did so. Finally, Vic couldn't stand the suspense any longer.

"So what's the verdict, Doc?"

"The concussion looks to be just about gone, and everything else is doing about as well as can be expected."

"Which means?" Vic asked, biting back his impatience. Why did doctors always beat around the bush?

"Well, to be blunt, it's going to be months before you're back to full fitness, but you will recover. Miss Tsei came out light with just broken ribs and bumps and scrapes. You dislocated your shoulder badly, which is why it's immobilized, and nearly collapsed one lung. Pneumonia is a possibility we'll be watching you for. As for Mr. Ramsey, he had the worst of the burns. The light fixture he was hit with before the explosion broke one of his ribs and the fall nearly tore out his knee, although not quite bad enough to require surgery. You should all be able to head home in a few days. After that, both you and Mr. Ramsey will need physiotherapy to rebuild the muscles, but in the end, you should both be back to about the same condition you were before you got in the way of a bomb."

Next to him, LiAnn breathed a sigh of relief, and Vic echoed it whole-heartedly.

"That's good to hear, Doctor," drawled a voice in the doorway. When Vic looked up, he found the Director watching him, a faint smile hovering on her lips. She looked as immaculate as usual. The only thing that interfered with the image of perfection was the right arm up in a sling.

"How about you?" Vic asked, nodding towards the sling.

"A mere flesh wound," she said with a wave of her free hand. Vic remembered it as having been a little more serious than that, but the Director wasn't the type to admit that, at least not to her agents. "And I am glad to hear that the two of you will be back to... normal. After all, I would hate to have to shoot you."

"Shoot them?" LiAnn squawked in outrage. Vic wasn't so upset. He could see the glint in the woman's eyes.

"Of course. That's what you do with horses after they break a leg, isn't it?"

LiAnn's jaw dropped as she tried to find the words. Vic couldn't hold back any longer. He snickered, then moved into a full laugh for a moment until his chest started hurting. The Director beamed at him for getting the joke.

"Relax, LiAnn," she said. "If they weren't going to recover enough for field operations, we would find some other job for them. If you weren't so tired, you would have realized that. I suggest that you go home and get some sleep."

"But..."

"No buts. Go home, LiAnn."

Vic squeezed her hand. "She's right. You looked wiped. Go get some sleep. We'll be fine."

LiAnn looked down at him, obviously torn. "All right, but I'll be back tonight."

"Tomorrow," Vic said.

"Tonight."

"Tomorrow," the Director broke in. "Your passkey will not work until eight a.m. tomorrow. The guards will have orders not to let you in. Now *go*, before I decide to have you sedated. It's the only way you're going to be staying in this facility."

LiAnn's expression stayed stubborn for a moment longer, but then she sighed and nodded. She bent down and kissed Vic's forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

She stopped briefly to brush her fingers through Mac's hair, and gave him the same sort of kiss. Mac stirred and mumbled something in his sleep, then settled down again. LiAnn paused at the doorway for a last look back, then left. Dr. Chang left right behind her, leaving the Director alone in the room with them.

The older woman moved to sit on the edge of his bed, the sling not changing the deadly grace of her movements. She just sat there for a moment, looking at him. Vic fought the urge to squirm under the penetrating gaze. The Director scared him. She had, since the day she'd appeared in his jail cell offering him a choice: Work for her, or spend a long time in jail, probably playing 'pick up the soap' every day for every bigger convict who wanted a piece of ex-cop ass. He'd taken the first choice, but sometimes he wondered if he might not have been safer in prison.

"The three of you saved my life," she said, looking at him thoughtfully. "If you hadn't come after me, Pucci probably would have killed me. I didn't expect him to bring back-up." Vic opened his mouth to say something, but she silenced him with a glance.

"However, you disobeyed a direct order," she continued, and reached out with her uninjured arm and pinched his earlobe between two long and very sharp fingernails. He gasped at the shooting pain that it caused. "And if you *ever* do that again, I will make you regret it."

She released him, and he gasped. "Now, I expect you to work very hard at getting better. You won't go back on duty until the doctors say you can, but I don't want to hear that you aren't doing as much as you could. So get some rest. I'll send someone with lunch."

Vic watched her leave the room, rubbing his ear with the hand that he could move. His other arm had been carefully strapped to his side. The sharp pains when he moved told him that the muscle in his shoulder was probably damaged. Dr. Chang hadn't been kidding when he said that it would need physio.

"She gone?"

Vic blinked in surprise at the soft voice. Looking over, he found Mac with his eyes barely open. "Yeah," he said, frowning. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since someone kissed me. LiAnn?"

Vic nodded. "The Director ordered her home for some rest. How do you feel?"

"Like crap. You?"

"About the same. At least we're alive to feel that way."

"Yeah. I suppose. Michael?"

"Dead."

"That's what we thought last time," Mac pointed out.

"Yeah, well this time they have the body to prove it."

"You're sure?" Mac sounded like an insecure child looking for reassurance.

"LiAnn said so."

Mac closed his eyes and sighed. "Then it must be true," he said sadly.

Vic frowned at the tone. "You don't sound very happy about it," he said, more question than statement.

"I am," Mac said. "It's just..." He paused. "I grew up with Michael. The Tang took me in when my dad disappeared. I was only twelve at the time. They gave me a home and a sister and a brother. They taught me and trained me and now they're all gone, except for LiAnn." Mac closed his eyes, and Vic could see one small tear winding its way down the younger man's face until it was caught by Mac's beard stubble. Mac opened his eyes again, and if they were a little brighter than usual, Vic wasn't going to call attention to it.

"Michael and I were best friends, you know. We did everything together. It wasn't until I was about eighteen that the problems started. We both fell in love with LiAnn, and she chose me."

Mac stopped for a moment. He was staring at the ceiling, but Vic didn't think that he was seeing it. Mac was deep in the past. "Michael was always kind of high-strung growing up," Mac finally continued. "He was always trying to prove himself, to prove that LiAnn and I weren't there because he wasn't enough to keep Father happy. He probably would have snapped sooner or later. It just happened that it was LiAnn getting involved with me that set him off.

"He started throwing himself into Tang business, trying to prove that he was willing to go further, do more than the two of us combined. Trying to prove himself to Father, trying to prove himself to the Tang organization. He started taking more risks, to prove to *us* that he was better than us. He was even willing to kill. Finally, the last straw, he arranged his marriage to LiAnn with Father and only told us after it was all set."

Mac looked over at Vic, who was listening intently. He'd heard all of it before from LiAnn, long before he'd even met Mac, but he'd never heard Mac's side of the story until now. At least, not the whole story. Months of sharing drinks at the bar had resulted in him hearing bits and pieces on those rare occasions where Mac actually got drunk, but never the whole.

"But," Mac said, his voice starting to crack under the strain, "it never changed the fact that he was my brother. No matter what he did, I still loved him, and I wanted him to love me. I didn't believe he'd changed, but..." Mac choked up, more tears running down his face. He managed to lift one arm to scrub the tears away, and he sniffed, a loud, moist sound in the small room.

"But you wanted to believe," Vic finally finished for him. "You wanted him to be the brother you remembered from the past again."

Mac managed a weak grin. "Yeah. Pretty stupid, huh?"

"No," Vic said firmly, remembering the fellow cops who'd been *his* brothers only to betray him. "Not stupid. Just human."

"Human," Mac echoed.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. After more than a year as partners, they'd become comfortable enough with each other that words weren't necessary. They were usually there, though, filling the air with a banter that had been hostile at first, then later turning amicable as they became friends, almost against their will.

Vic was starting to drift asleep again. He knew that if he was this tired then Mac had to be even more so. He didn't much like this constant urge to sleep, but it was to be expected. He'd been in a car accident when he was seventeen, and he'd spent a lot of time sleeping while he healed. After all, the energy to repair the body had to come from somewhere.

Naturally, that was the moment that the door slammed open and a petite blonde bombshell came through, pushing a wheeled cart with covered trays on it.

"Hey guys! Like, you really did a number on yourselves this time. Maybe you shouldn't have ditched me like that. I mean, hey! I did good with the bomb at the Elephant whatsit, didn't I? Ick," she added, lifting the lid off one tray and making a face. "Like, I am *so* glad I'm not the one who has to eat this."

Vic groaned, and he could see Mac close his eyes with a wince at the blonde's volume. "Not so loud please, Jackie?" the younger man said plaintively.

"Oops," she said, not much quieter. "Sorry guys. So how are you two feeling?"

"Well," Vic said as Jackie swung the small bed table around on its swivel arm to in front of him and dropped his lunch tray on it. "It's better than being dead."

"Oh, yeah, I am *so* with that. Being dead would be a real bummer," Jackie said, setting up Mac's lunch.

Vic lifted the tray lid and winced. "What is this?"

"I do *not* want to know," Mac said with an almost identical look of distaste.

"It's your lunch, so eat hearty!" Jackie said, plopping down in a chair. "But man, I am *so* amazed that you guys even alive. I got there just after the place went kablooie, and let me tell you, that guy Pucci didn't mess around when he planted those bombs. There is *nothing* left of that warehouse. Unless you want to count a few piles of ashes and rubble, I mean," she added with a shake of her head.

Suddenly, Vic's lunch looked even less appealing, if that were possible. Up until that moment, he'd been avoiding the thought of how close they'd come to death. Death was not something he'd faced before. Sure, he'd been shot and beaten up and threatened, but none of it seemed quite... real. Even being locked in a truck rigged to blow with a non-violent Irish terrorist hadn't quite seemed real. Besides, Mac and LiAnn had been on the outside, coming to the rescue. But this time, they'd all been inside. A hair slower, and they *all* would have died. That scared him.

"What?"

Vic looked up at the sound of Mac's voice. His partner was staring at him, worry written on his face.

"Nothing."

"That is not a 'nothing' expression. What's wrong?"

Vic shook his head. "Just morbid thoughts. Like who would have come to my funeral if the three of us had died in that warehouse."

"I woulda," Jackie piped up. "So would the Director and Dobie."

Mac broke into a delighted grin. "Dobie? You call Dobrinsky 'Dobie'?!"

Vic just sighed. "Exactly. Let's face it, the Director would just be upset about having to create a new team, Dobrinsky would come because he was supposed to, and you don't really know any of us well enough to *really* care. No offence, Jackie."

"Hey, no problem. I care, but I'm not quite family yet. I'm cool with that. It'll change."

Vic shrugged one-sided, but Mac was looking solemn. "I know what you mean. But wouldn't your parents..."

Vic snorted. "If my father came, it would be to dance a jig of joy. It always seemed like he hated my guts, but I never knew why. As for my mom, she wasn't even home half the time. Why do you think Alice and I left so young?"

"What about Alice?"

Vic sighed again. "She'd come, if she found out in time. Last I heard from her, she was off in Indonesia building bridges or something like that. Not much in the way of fast communication out that way."

Mac nodded. "In other words, we'd be in the same boat. I mean, in the last umpteen years, I've heard from my dad once. And all I know about where *he's* going is that he said he'd be in Aldabra, sooner or later. My mom's dead, and except for LiAnn, my adopted family is dead too. All I've really got is LiAnn... and you."

Vic looked up in surprise. "Me?"

"Sure. You're family. Have been for a while. So try to stay alive, would you? I don't want to lose any more family if I can help it."

"This is like *so* depressing, guys. Can we change subjects?"

Vic fell silent, staring at his lunch. It was all forms of mush, intended for tender systems, but at least it was sort of solid food. He took a bite of the white mush, and found that it was mashed potatoes. Reconstituted, of course. But not bad. He liked mashed potatoes. Of course, they would have been better with some garlic or something in them, but still, they were better than he'd expected.

"So what's happened with the Tangs?" Mac asked from the other bed, starting into the other stuff. It was some sort of gravy like sauce with what looked like shredded cooked chicken in it. Vic took a taste and decided that it wasn't bad either, even if it was a little bland. Nothing to upset sensitive tummies here.

Jackie shrugged. "There's like a *big* war going on. Several guys are trying to take over the Family, but they aren't getting much support. The bosses that the old man was selling local control to are all claiming that control, free of charge. If anything survives, it's probably going to be small, just Hong Kong and maybe part of Asia. They'll be *years* trying to rebuild."

As she spoke, the valley girl, dumb blonde voice disappeared, replaced instead with a cold business-like tone. Vic and Mac both stared at her in surprise.

"What?" she demanded. "Hey, I was supposed to head the Janczyk Family. Papa Janczyk may have been nuts, but he made sure I got all the training I needed."

Vic shook his head. "Yeah. Just, sometimes we forget that."

Jackie hmmphed, shaking back her long hair. "Yeah, well it means people underestimate me, which isn't bad, I guess. But you guys shouldn't," she added sternly. For a moment, she almost sounded like the Director, scary as that thought was.

"Anyway," she said, bouncing to her feet. "I have got like a *ton* of work to do. Dobie and I are doing your jobs while you three are out of it. It's kinda fun, working with him. He's not bad, if you know how to handle him. See ya!"

Vic stared, slack-jawed, as she headed out the door, wiggling her curvy backside as she went. She was a woman who was obviously comfortable with her sexuality, and happy to use it. Almost a complete opposite to LiAnn. LiAnn might dress in ways that complimented her boyish figure, but she rarely ever used her femininity if she could at all avoid it.
 

"Um, is it just me or does she remind you of the Director?"

Vic glanced over at Mac and shuddered. "Yeah, and that scares the heck out of me."

"Me too. I mean, it's bad enough having the Director showing up to torment me at all hours of the day and night. If Jackie starts doing that, I may explode."

Vic grinned. The Director had delighted in teasing Mac, right from day one. "What, she's never followed through?" he asked in a joking tone.

Mac's expression turned horrified. "No, thank God."

That surprised Vic. "Why 'thank God?' I mean, she's an attractive, very sensual woman." And how. Even if she was more than a little scary in terms of personality.

"And about as safe as a black widow spider. No thanks. Besides, she slept with my dad. Sleeping with her would be like... incest, or something."

Vic blinked. He hadn't heard about that one; just that she'd sent him in to help Vic and Mac with the organ smuggling case and that he'd lied to Mac about it. But yeah, he could see what Mac meant.

He went back to his multi-flavored dishes of mush. With green Jell-O for dessert. Yummy.

* * * * *

The next few weeks were just as painful as Vic had expected. Twenty-four hours after the explosion, Dr. Chang had allowed him to go home. Mac went home a couple of days later once he was able to move around on crutches competently.

Going home was a revelation. Vic had never realized just how much of everyday actions required two functioning hands. The first time he'd tried to open a jar had been a challenge, and he wasn't even going to think about trying to open a can with only one hand.

And he hadn't just dislocated the shoulder. The first time he'd seen his arm unwrapped of the bandages he'd nearly been sick. It was bruised and scraped, and a nurse had confided that they were surprised that it wasn't more badly damaged. Late in the night he'd wondered what he would have done if they'd needed to amputate. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to survive with only one arm. But still, some of the cuts were deep enough that he was going to have permanent scars.

Being home was nice. He could sleep in his own bed, which was a lot more comfortable than the hospital bed, not to mention wider. No voices in the hallway to disturb him. No unexpected visits from whoever was passing by. He shook his head, remembering a visit from the Cleaners. They'd brought playing cards, and he'd ended up partnered with Mac in a game of bridge with the two assassins.

The only thing he *did* miss was having Mac around. It was comforting to have someone there when he had the inevitable nightmares. At home, he woke to the dark, shivering and wet with a hoarse throat. No complaints from the neighbours yet though.

And then there was the true hell that was physical therapy. Even just the gentle stretching as his shoulder healed, intended to maintain the flexibility he'd had, was excruciating in the beginning. Once the stretching was no longer painful, then came the strength building exercises.

Through it all, LiAnn had been by his side, encouraging him on. He knew she did the same for Mac, who had a different physio schedule, but he couldn't help thinking there was something more there when she was with him. Something that hadn't been there in a while.

* * * * *

"All right, ten more. We can do it."

Vic groaned and glared at the petite redhead. "How about *we* don't and just say *we* did."

She snorted inelegantly. All of five foot three, she was unyielding, asking for everything that Vic could give her, and then demanding ten percent more. The only thing that saved him after a session with the drill-sergeant wannabe was the full-body massage the medical staff masseuse gave him. He just wished he'd known that there was a masseuse in-house earlier. He could remember plenty of times in the past when he could have used that service.

Soft voices caught his attention, and he looked up just in time to see LiAnn wave to Dr. Chang before coming over to join him. Her eyes were glowing and he couldn't help smiling in answer to her expression. This was the LiAnn her remembered so well from when he'd courted her, years ago. He missed seeing that expression on her face, that glow that seemed to surround her.

"Ah, Ms. Tsei. Victor was about to give up on his exercise with ten curls to go."

Vic glared at the tiny woman again. It was an obvious ploy, making him look bad in front of his woman so that he would do the ten curls that he didn't want to. It was petty and manipulative.

And damnit, it worked, too. He grabbed the handle and started to pull, ignoring the aches. "One. Two. Three," he counted through gritted teeth.

By the time he reached ten, LiAnn and his torturer were counting with him, and both cheered as he let go of the handle. "There, I told you, you could do it," his therapist said cheerfully, slapping him on his uninjured shoulder.

"So how are you doing?" LiAnn asked. She was dressed casually with no makeup, her hair loose and lightly curled around her face. She took Vic's breath away.

He rolled his left shoulder and felt the aches and twinges, but none of the shooting pains that the same motion would have caused only a few weeks earlier. "Pretty good," he admitted.

"Extremely good," his therapist countered. "In fact, it's time for you to report to Dobrinsky for the field-training refresher course."

"Really?" Vic asked, perking up. The refresher course was the last stop before he could go back on full duty. He was already on light duty, but that was mostly paperwork.

He *hated* paperwork.

The therapist headed off, leaving them alone, and Vic had to fight to keep from fidgeting. He felt like a teenager all over again. "Hey, LiAnn. Got any plans tonight?"

Her eyebrows went up. "Well, I do, but not until late."

Vic sat up a little straighter. "Great," he said cheerfully. "How about drinks about five? "

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. "I don't know," she said slowly.

"Come on," Vic wheedled. "It's been a while. Just a drink, like we used to." It was true. The three of them had used to meet just about every day at the bar down the street after work to gripe about their day. Although, in retrospect it did seem like after their break-up, the drinking had been more him and Mac than the three of them together.

"All right," she said a little dubiously.

"Great! I'll even buy."

"Okay. I've got to go." She still sounded a little reluctant, but she smiled and kissed him on the forehead before leaving. She'd been doing that a lot since the explosion. One more reason why Vic had high hopes

"Sure. See you later."

Vic watched her until she disappeared from view, smiling a no-doubt goofy grin. She might not have the bounce and wiggle that Jackie did, but he loved to watch her move. She seemed to almost glide across the floor. She was the most graceful person he'd ever met. He sighed a happy sigh, then winced as the aches from his session started to catch up with him.

A dip in the hot tub before his massage sounded like just the ticket to him, so he headed for the locker room and changed into a bathing suit. The Agency hot tub was clothing optional, but you never knew who might show up, so Vic liked to preserve his dignity at least a little.

And sure enough, the tub wasn't empty. Mac was there. His arms were stretched to the side, along the sides of the tub, and he was letting himself float gently on top of the water. His knee still looked like a mess and he was still using a brace as well as a cane, but he was a lot better than he had been after being let out of medical.

"How was your session?" Vic asked, slipping into the steaming water with a sigh. The instant relaxation was a relief after the tension of the exercise. Other than the massage, this was his favorite way to relax.

"Brutal as usual," Mac said, not bothering to open his eyes. His head was resting on the edge of the tub with a folded towel as a pillow. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat that wasn't just from the heat of the room, Vic was sure. The swirling movement of the water brought his legs to rest again Vic's arm, and Vic couldn't find the energy to push him away. Mac looked to be in the same shape.

They drifted in the water for a while, enjoying the quiet. Then Mac opened one eye and looked at Vic. "What you doing later?" he asked sleepily. Vic snorted. It was almost exactly the same question he'd asked LiAnn.

"Got a date with the masseuse," he said with a grin. "Then a date with LiAnn."

Mac's eyes both opened, then narrowed suspiciously. "Vic..."

Vic leaned back and grinned at the ceiling. "Hmm?"

"You aren't about to do something stupid, are you?"

That wiped his smile away. He kicked a little in the water, not meeting Mac's eyes. "What would you consider stupid?" he asked. "Getting back together with LiAnn? It's not like you haven't tried."

"Getting back together with her wouldn't be stupid, it would be a miracle. It's the trying that's stupid."

That brought up a flash of anger. "And why is that?" he asked, his jaw muscles aching ever so slightly.

"Because she's going to say no, just like she did to me. She doesn't go back."

"I'm not thinking of going back, I'm thinking of going forward."

"It's not how she'll see it." Mac was looking at him with a sad expression that just made him angrier.

Vic climbed out of the hot tub and stood glaring at Mac for a moment, dripping water onto the floor and shivering as the cooler air hit him. "Just because she turned *you* down doesn't mean she's going to turn me down." He turned and headed for the locker room, no longer so relaxed.

Behind him, he heard Mac say softly, "You really don't know her, Vic. Be careful."

He ignored the comment and kept going.

* * * * *

Vic grinned up at LiAnn as she slid into the booth next to him. She'd changed and was now dressed simply in black slacks and a peach blouse. She was beautiful. Of course, as far as he was concerned, she would look gorgeous in sackcloth.

"Hi, how are you feeling?" she asked before waving the waitress over and ordering a glass of white wine.

"Not bad," Vic said, rotating his shoulder, then wincing slightly. "The therapist may be out to kill me, but at least I get great massages afterwards."

"Good, cause I really want you guys back in the field soon."

"Miss us that much?" Vic asked. She did sound anxious to have them back.

"Not really," she said, sticking out her tongue at him, then smiling. "But having you back means I won't have to spend five hours in a car with Jackie doing surveillance again. You would not believe how much that girl babbles."

"Worse than Mac?" Vic leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. LiAnn's eyes were sparkling, and he was more certain than ever that this was the right time.

"Oh, much worse. At least he babbles about things I'm vaguely interested in. She babbles about clothes and nail polish and weightlifting! Even Dobrinsky would be better, even if he does comment on every car that drives by."

Vic shook his head, chuckling.

"And the worst was when I had to work with *both* of them on the Standish case. Watching those two coo over each other is sickening. Talk about sugar shock."

"Now, LiAnn. I seem to recall Agent Myers saying the same thing about us a few years back."

LiAnn's smile turned soft. "We were pretty sappy, weren't we?" she said fondly. Vic ducked his head, echoing the smile. Sometimes it amazed him that after all this time she still affected him that way.

Which reminded him of why he'd asked her to meet him after work. "Say, what are you doing tomorrow night?"

The question seemed to catch her off-guard. "Tomorrow? Why?"

"Well, there's a new show on at the Princess of Wales theatre and I just happen to know how to lay my hands on a couple of tickets." Which had taken some doing since it was sold out for the next month. "We could have dinner, make an evening of it." And maybe more, he thought hopefully.

"Vic..." LiAnn paused and Vic felt a sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was not the reaction he'd been hoping for. "I have plans tomorrow," she finally said.

Well, that wasn't *too* bad. "We could always do it another night, then," he said, cheering up.

But LiAnn was shaking her head. "I don't think this is a good idea," she said, shifting in her seat. She was looking everywhere except at him. Vic's spirits fell once more: he'd seen this behavior before, when Mac had tried to convince her to give him a second try. But he found that he couldn't just give up. In the back of his mind he could hear Mac telling him that this wasn't going to happen the way he wanted, but he did his best to ignore it.

"Why not?" he pressed. "It's been a year since you postponed our engagement. Don't you think we could give it another chance?"

"Vic..." She looked into her wineglass, then squared her shoulders and met his eyes firmly. "I'm seeing someone."

Vic wanted to slump in his seat, but covered it carefully. "Is it Mac?" he asked. It would make sense, her going back to her first love. But still, if they *were* going to get back together, wouldn't it have happened after the accident with Murphy's little bag of death and the Drake Oliver case. Mac certainly had been pursuing LiAnn with everything he had. On the other hand, if she was seeing him, wouldn't he have just told Vic that afternoon rather than just telling him that *he* shouldn't try to get back with LiAnn again?

"No! Of course not."

Vic blinked, confused. "Well, if it's not Mac, who is it?"

"Thomas."

"Who?" Vic searched his memory, but the name didn't ring any bells.

"Thomas Chang," she said. "From medical," she added when he was obviously still not making the connection.

Vic felt his jaw drop. "Dr. Chang?" Somehow, this conversation was just getting worse and worse.

LiAnn's expression went dreamy and it seemed like she was barely even aware of his existence anymore. "He had the gentlest hands when he was checking my ribs."

Then she came back to the here-and-now with a shake. She glanced at her watch, then stood up quickly. "I have to go. I'm meeting him for dinner." She kissed him on the cheek. "I really can't wait until you guys are back at work. See you later!" And she was gone.

Vic stared at her half-empty wine glass, wondering where he'd gone wrong. Maybe he'd waited too long. Maybe if he'd just said something a little sooner...

The soft chime of glass on glass pulled him out of his haze. Mac was sliding awkwardly into the seat LiAnn had just vacated, to empty beer glasses carefully held in one hand, a pitcher of beer in the other and his cane tucked under his arm. "Here to gloat?" Vic asked, not really feeling up to this. Not now.

Mac shook his head. "Me, gloat? Nah." He filled one of the glasses and pushed in Vic's direction before filling the other. Vic picked it up and took a long swallow. The cool, malt liquid was soothing as it slid down his throat, easing the tightness there, so he took another swallow and was surprised to find that the glass was nearly empty already. He wasn't much of one for getting drunk, but tonight seemed to be a good night for it. He drained the glass.

But Mac was still talking. "Tried to tell you it wouldn't work," the younger man was saying into his own beer. He didn't *sound* like he was gloating. If anything, he sounded sympathetic. Sad, even.

"Cause I'm not the right one for her," Vic supplied, deciding that drunk, morose and self-pitying was an even better plan.

Mac snorted, then emptied his own glass before refilling both. "*No* one is right for LiAnn," he said sarcastically and, Vic thought, a touch bitterly. "It took me a while to figure that one out. LiAnn," he waved his glass in the air, slopping beer over the side in a way that made Vic wonder how much beer his partner had already consumed. "LiAnn," he repeated, "is in love with *being* in love. The whole courtship thing. Commitment, though, is a different matter altogether. I mean, look at her and me. How long were you engaged before I showed up?" he suddenly asked, catching Vic off-guard.

"Um... nearly eight months, I think," Vic said, thinking back.

"Right! So, how many women do you know who can go from seeing their fiancée *apparently* die in a fiery explosion, escape from an angry crime family, move half-way around the world, get recruited by a secret agency, meet someone, fall in love and get engaged in a mere ten months?"

Vic thought about it, then sighed, his emotions sinking even lower than they already were. "None," he finally admitted. "Unless she was never in love in the first place."

Mac refilled both their glasses again and they drank in silence for a while. "Bet you," he said suddenly, jolting Vic out of the sea of self-pity he was slowly sinking into. "Bet you she's engaged to him in... oh, three months. And she breaks it off less than a year later."

Vic stared at him for a moment. "Pretty cold, don't you think? Betting on your former love's current love life, I mean."

The only answer was a shrug. Vic found himself remembering their first meeting, in LiAnn's apartment. They'd been fighting, him thinking that Mac was some sort of thief -- which he was, of course -- and Mac thinking he was a Tang assassin. When LiAnn had walked in, Mac's expression had been one of delight, despite his situation, while LiAnn's... Vic winced. He hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but hers had been one of shock, understandably, mixed with... dismay.

And the more he thought about it, the more he saw the little ways she'd put Mac down: Forgetting his birthday, choosing to save Vic even though Mac was in more immediate danger, rebuffing every attempt the young man had made to renew their relationship. Even worse, he didn't think she was even aware of what she was doing. Yet at the same time, she reacted with instant jealousy and possessiveness any time he showed any interest in another woman.

For that matter, she did the same to *him* too.

Well, he knew why he put up with it: He'd thought they still had a chance together. But why... "Why do you let her do that to you?" he blurted out, then drained his glass again. He refilled it himself this time, noting that the pitcher was almost empty. Oh yeah, he was definitely getting drunk.

Mac slumped a little in his seat. He ran his fingers through the condensation collecting on the table, pushing it into abstract patterns. "Because," he said softly, "she was my sister long before he was my lover and I still love her, in spite of everything." He looked up and met Vic's eyes in an expression of complete understanding. "You?"

"Well, I can't exactly say the same, but she's very easy to love."

"And to keep loving, even after she moves on."

"Right."

Mac grinned. "The first meeting of the Ex-Lovers of LiAnn is called to order," he said, raising his glass. Vic lifted his own and they solemnly tapped rims together with a bright chime.

"Solidarity. In a club of two."

"I still say that it will be three in a year and a bit," Mac said. "Bet you."

Vic's eyes narrowed. "What stakes?" he asked. Suddenly, the idea of betting on LiAnn's love life wasn't as upsetting as before.

"Oh, I don't know." Mac frowned thoughtfully, then laughed. "You and me at the club of my choice for the night."

Vic winced, having a pretty good idea of what sort of club Mac would chose. As far as he was concerned, Mac had the worst taste in music. On the other hand... "Deal. And if I win, the same."

"A night of antique blues?" Mac shuddered theatrically. "Deal, since there is no way I'm losing. I know LiAnn too well."

"We shall see," Vic said in his best deep, ominous voice as they shook on it. "In the meantime, I'm going to get thoroughly plastered tonight. Care to join me?"

"Don't mind if I do," Mac grinned.

"Good. Go get us another pitcher, then."

Mac stared at him for a moment, a surprised expression on his face, then burst into laughter so infectious that Vic had to join in.

Suddenly, things weren't quite so bleak.

* * * * *

Seven weeks later, Vic had been cleared for full duty and Mac's knee had healed enough for limited duty beyond the records room, LiAnn showed up one day wearing an engagement ring. The Director gave it a rather pointed look but said nothing. Vic and Mac exchanged glances behind LiAnn's back: Vic's rueful and Mac's... almost apologetic. Vic resigned himself to a night at a club where the music was too loud and had no melody before the year was out.

And yet, in spite of having nearly two months to adjust to the fact that LiAnn was seeing someone else, Vic still felt depressed. He finally had to admit to himself that Mac was right about her, and that there was no chance of the two of them getting back together again.

Instead of heading to their usual after-work watering hole, he managed to calmly congratulate LiAnn, then went home. Unfortunately, there was no alcohol in the apartment, but before he could work up the ambition to head out to the LCBO, there was a knock at the door.

Somehow, he wasn't very surprised to find Mac on his doorstep, a bottle of scotch in one hand and a large take-out bag in the other. He brushed past Vic and headed straight for the kitchen.

Vic followed along, a little bemused, and watched as Mac emptied the bag of an endless array of containers. "There isn't anything gross in there, is there?" he asked, recognizing the logo of Mac's favorite Chinese food take-out. *Real* Chinese food, with nary a sweet-and-sour chicken ball to be seen.

"Define 'gross.'"

"Something that had tentacles, for one," Vic said, remembering some of the things he'd seen Mac eat on stakeouts.

"Do you see any tentacles here?" Mac said, sounding insincerely hurt, and waved a hand towards the open containers. Vic didn't, but knowing Mac, that didn't mean much. Oh well, it was food and it *did* smell good.

"So what's the occasion?" he asked, pulling cutlery from a drawer, ignoring the lacquered chopsticks Mac was waving at him.

"Your birthday?"

"Three months ago," Vic reminded him. "You sent me a strip-o-gram. At work. The Director nearly killed you."

"Yeah, but she laughed too, didn't she? Um... my birthday?"

"Not until August seventeenth."

Mac stopped, and a slow grin spread over his face. "You remember?" he said, sounding a little shocked and a lot pleased.

Vic shrugged. "How could I forget after that scene with LiAnn?" he complained. From his expression, Mac didn't buy the tone.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"Whatever. I promise to forget by the time it rolls around. So, try again."

Mac paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. "Thought you might want some company after LiAnn's little announcement today," he finally said, then grimaced. "I know *I* do."

Vic stared at him for a moment, but Mac refused to meet his eyes. "Good enough," he said, and reached for a container of something that *looked* okay.

An hour later, the containers were mostly empty, the few dishes they'd used were washed and they headed for the living room with the bottle of scotch and two glasses. The sun was setting spectacularly outside the windows, so Vic pulled the drapes shut. Ever since the showdown with Pucci and Michael, the colors of sunset reminded him painfully of the explosion that had nearly killed them all.

So, instead of admiring nature's light show, he sipped his scotch -- a particularly good, not to mention expensive, brand, he noticed -- and watched his partner instead. The young man looked completely at home, sprawled comfortably on Vic's couch. In fact, he looked like he belonged there. LiAnn, Vic remembered with a pang, had always perched daintily on the edge, as if she expected to stand up covered in something unpleasant. Vic sat down next to him, almost close enough to touch. It was comfortable, spending time like that.

"So, how do you feel about LiAnn getting engaged?" he asked as the silence stretched out.

Mac blew a gusty sigh. "I still say she'll dump him within a year," he said.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Mac glanced at him, then looked back into his glass, looking for the right answer, Vic thought. "Disappointed," he finally said. "And hopeful."

"Of what?" Vic asked with a frown.

"That maybe, just maybe, this time she's not playing her usual games. That maybe she's really found someone she can settle down with, someone she can be happy with."

"Even if it's not you?"

Mac smiled. "Hey, like I told you that night; she was my sister and my friend before she was ever my lover. Of course I want to see her happy. You know about her past, don't you?"

Vic nodded. "Her parents sold her to a brothel when she was twelve. Tang bought it and was sending the girls home, but she lifted his wallet so he adopted her instead."

Mac lifted an eyebrow. "That's pretty much true, except that Father didn't buy the place until she was fourteen. I'm sure you can fill in the two years between. She deals with men on a sexual level fine, but emotional? I don't think she even really believes in love."

"Oh." Vic glanced around the room, not ready to see Mac's expression. "I thought it was more like a week. She never said..."

"She wouldn't have," Mac said, when he couldn't find anything to complete the sentence. "I think she considers herself a failure. After all, if she wasn't, her parents wouldn't have rejected her like that."

Vic winced, then let it go. He'd seen enough during his days in Vice to fill in the blanks, and he really didn't want to. "And what about you?" he asked instead. "Don't you want to be happy? Ever since Claire, I haven't seen any sign that you're even trying."

"Like you have? The closest *you've* come to a relationship was that Mafia chick."

"Antonella," Vic said softly.

"Yeah, her. As I recall, you also turned her down flat."

Vic winced at the memory. He didn't like remembering the period that had almost got him killed. At least both LiAnn and Mac had understood his thinking in the whole thing, even if *he* hadn't. "I thought LiAnn and I could still get back together," he said defensively.

"And now that you know you won't, you're going to go looking again?"

Vic thought about it. Going out looking for a woman who would accept the strange hours and not question when he disappeared for several days then reappeared with injuries, refusing to say anything about what he'd been up to. No, not much chance in finding someone like that. And despite Mac's assertions when he'd gotten engaged to Claire, there was no way any of them was going to be able to leave the Agency unless they somehow became completely useless to their boss, and he didn't really what to find out just how bad off he'd have to be for that to happen.

Basically, the best he could hope for was an endless stream of one-night stands, like some of the ones he'd had before LiAnn had come into his life, or a relationship with someone inside the Agency. Even there, his choices were limited. The more he thought back over the years, the more he realized just how isolated the Director kept her agents from the rank and file, not to mention the other agents that she claimed didn't exist. He could count on his fingers the number of Agency employees he knew by name, with fingers left over. After all, it had taken a nearly fatal incident for LiAnn to find someone new. So, unless he was willing to consider Jackie, or worse, the Director...

Suddenly, he realized that Mac was waiting for an answer and sighed, even more depressed than he'd been before his partner's arrival. "No. Not much point, is there?"

Mac's expression was unusually sober. "You're just going to give up?" he asked softly. "You deserve better than that. You certainly can't expect me to believe that you're happy alone. I know you better than that."

"It's not like I've got a lot of choice in the matter," Vic shot back. "Not unless I start going to strip joints looking for someone." He felt guilty almost immediately for throwing that in Mac's face, but the younger man didn't seem upset.

"Hey, Viv's a good friend. We've slept together a few times, when the pressure gets to be too much, but it's a friend thing. But I still say you're giving up too easy. You stop looking and you might miss what's right in front of you."

There was something in Mac's tone that caught Vic's attention. "Like what?" he asked.

Mac smiles a slow, serene smile and moved closer to him on the couch. "Like me," he said softly, then lifted a hand to stroke the side of Vic's face. When Vic's mouth dropped open in surprise, Mac's hand slipped around to cradle the back of his head, then deliberately pulled him forward until their lips met.

The sweetness of Mac's mouth, flavored slightly by the spice of dinner and the taste of the scotch they'd been drinking, registered in Vic's brain before the realization that he was kissing his partner, his very *male* partner, and he pulled away. Mac let him go easily, watching him.

"I'm not a pressure valve," Vic said, his voice slightly unsteady, rocked by the intensity of the feelings.

Mac snorted. "No, you're the cause of the pressure for me, and I'm tired of substitutes."

"I'm not gay." Of course, that didn't explain why he was aroused, Vic noted.

Mac shrugged. "Who needs labels? Can you honestly say that you've never even thought about having sex with a guy?"

Images flashed through Vic's mind: circle jerks as a boy, a furtive groping in the bushes with a high school friend, suggestive looks from Stan, his old partner in the force, that had made him think, but things in the department had been too stressed to think of taking him up on the implied offer. "I've never..." he started to say, then stopped.

"We could be good together," Mac said intensely, not moving away, but thankfully not moving any closer. Vic wasn't sure what he'd do if Mac touched him just then. Shatter, maybe. "I thought you were gorgeous the moment we met, even if we were trying to beat the crap out of each other," Mac continued. "And later, swinging from that chandelier, trying to steal the Rembrant, I knew I wanted you."

"So, this is an itch you want to scratch?" Vic tensed, but Mac ignored the accusation.

"Then, when LiAnn dumped you, I was surprised to find that I was more interested in being there for you than going after LiAnn to try and get her back. By the time you ran into that warehouse to find me, I would have done anything for you."

"What are you saying?" Vic whispered, remembering. Mac *had* been there for him after LiAnn's little bombshell. Nights he could have spent putting Vic down or making his move, he'd spent with Vic at the local pub, drinking with him, listening to him. Vic was getting more and more disoriented.

"That I want you. As a friend, a partner, and if you'll have me, a lover. Casual if that's all that you want, permanent and exclusive if I can get it."

Unexpectedly, Mac got to his feet and headed for the door. Vic found himself following, watching silently as Mac slipped on his jacket. Then Mac turned back to him. Vic was surprised at how vulnerable the confident young man suddenly looked. "I know you haven't always thought much of me, but I'm very serious. Think about it for a few days. If you decide you're not interested, then we can pretend that this conversation never happened, just go on the way we were."

"Mac..."

In an instant, Vic found himself yanked into Mac's arms and kissed again. But while the last kiss had been short and sweet, this one was pure passion, and somehow, Vic didn't pull away this time.

Finally, it was Mac who ended the kiss. He was flushed, breathing hard and his lips were shiny and swollen. Mac lifted his hand and brushed his forefinger over Vic's lips. They felt just as large and sensitive.

"Think about it," Mac said huskily, then was gone.

* * * * *

Thinking about it was easy. Getting it out of his mind so that he could concentrate on his job was anything but. For the next few days it was *all* he could think of. Luckily, things stayed quiet, and the Director assigned them to various tasks that didn't require too much attention. Vic spent his time in records with Nathan doing information searches, while Mac and LiAnn were put on stakeout, so he saw little of them. Jackie seemed to be spending all her time closeted with the Director doing God only knew what. All in all, he had plenty of time to think.

His first reaction had been one of anger. While everything else in his life had changed, Mac had always been the one constant, ever since the day they'd first met. Sarcastic, witty, contentious and somehow his most supportive friend. Finding out that his "friend" was harboring a deep, secret desire to jump his bones all that time... But the anger quickly faded, replaced by a flattered feeling.

Next came dismissal. It was just a phase Mac was going through, he told himself. In a few days or weeks, some pretty blonde would wriggle her hips at him and he would be gone. But that thought was also quickly gone. While Mac *did* tend towards one night stands, he also showed a desire for more. LiAnn, Cathy Chow, the Hong Kong thief he had so much in common with, Claire, the woman he'd nearly married, Angie, the innocent jewel thief he'd dragged Vic into helping. If anything, Mac showed more *real* interest in commitment than LiAnn ever had.

Commitment was also what Vic wanted, dreamed of at night. The comfort of knowing that someone would be there for him. Someone he could be there for. A warm body to just cuddle when he had a bad day. The teasing, the little gifts, even the fights. The knowledge that he wasn't alone. Oh yeah, he wanted the same thing Mac did.

So the only question was: was he interested in that sort of a commitment with *Mac*?

* * * * *

A week after Mac had dropped his little bombshell, Vic came off another day with Nathan, the paranoid little researcher in records, feeling a desperate need for a drink. He headed for the usual bar, the same one where LiAnn had originally dumped him and where he'd made a fool of himself over her just two months ago. The place was nearly empty, the happy hour crowd gone and the night crowd not yet arrived. "Scotch, no ice," he told the bartender, pulling out one of the stools at the bar. "In fact, make it a double."

The drink was delivered with commendable speed and Vic took a long sip to clear the taste of dust from his mouth. Then he put the glass down and groaned at his mistake. Like Pavlov's dogs at the sound of a bell, the taste of scotch had his cock leaping to attention in his pants. After a week, the taste of scotch still brought the memory of Mac kissing him into clear focus. His mind might not be sure about what to do, but his body seemed to be.

"Drinking alone again? Not a good habit."

Vic winced and looked up into Mac's grinning face. The younger man swung a leg over the stool next to Vic's and sat down. The bartender didn't even have to ask; he just handed over a bottle of that Chinese brand of beer that Mac loved so much. They probably kept a case in the fridge just for him.

Vic watched Mac out of the corner of his eye, wondering if this was when his partner was going to ask him for an answer to his proposition, but Mac's dark eyes stayed focused on the shelves of bottles behind the bar. He took a swig of his beer and Vic found that he couldn't pull his eyes away from the long line of neck, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Vic's mouth went dry and he took a quick swig of his scotch to wet it.

"Yes, I've thought of it," he blurted out. "But I've never actually done it."

Mac smiled softly. "It doesn't have to be complicated, you know."

"Emotionally or physically?" Vic shot back.

"Either."

Vic took another swallow of his scotch. "We work together for a woman who gives us no privacy. Our other partner was engaged to both of us at different times, and while she's moved on, she also isn't very good at letting go. Complicated doesn't even begin to describe it." He was dodging the physical part, he knew. He might be curious, but up until now, all of his sex partners had been female. He wasn't really sure what it would involve, despite the dreams of the last week. But while he wasn't against the idea, what if it didn't work out? Could they continue working together after that?

On the other hand, he was still working with LiAnn, more than a year after she decided to end their relationship, so it was possible.

"Well? I'm willing to take the chance. Are you?"

Vic met Mac's eyes, reading the challenge there easily. Everything had been a contest between them, and this was no different, it seemed. "One time, no strings. If I don't like it, then no harm, no foul, okay?" His mouth snapped shut when he realized that he'd just committed himself.

Mac's smile was almost blinding. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll make it so good for you that you'll never want anyone else again."

That made Vic snort. "Confident, aren't you."

Mac shrugged. "Hey, I've got the training."

Vic's blood ran cold at the statement. "Training? Why?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer. LiAnn's background he now knew more about, but there were a lot of blanks in Mac's history for him.

Mac's smile faded a little as he looked away. "I lived on the streets for a while before the Tangs took me in. Nasty things happen there," he said simply. "Father didn't allow past fears to create weaknesses, so when I was sixteen, he hired trainers to show me the good side of sex." He met Vic's eyes again. "And believe me, those trainers knew *exactly* what they were doing. He did the same thing for LiAnn, otherwise I doubt she would have let *any* guy touch her again."

Vic shuddered, realizing just what Mac was saying. As a cop, he'd seen street kids who'd been raped, but they had been strangers. Mac was anything but. He reached over and rested a comforting hand on Mac's thigh, but otherwise didn't do anything that could be read as pity. "So now what?" he asked.

Mac drained his beer and stood, pulling a couple of bills from his pocket and tossing them on the counter. "My place," he suggested. "That way, if you *really* don't like it, you can just go home and forget that it ever happened."

Vic's palms started to sweat as he realized that he was actually going to this. He had to be insane. "All right," he said, none too steadily. "My truck's outside."

"Okay, you know the way."

Mac headed out the door. Vic looked down at his half-empty glass and considered finishing it -- Dutch courage -- then decided that he was shaky enough that it wouldn't be a good idea. He paid the bartender and headed out to the parking lot. Mac's sports car was already gone. Vic climbed into his own vehicle and started it.

For a moment, he had a flash of cold feet, and seriously considered just going home. Then he squared his shoulders and put the pickup into drive: He'd given his answer and he wasn't about to back out on it, if for no other reason than that Mac would never let him live it down. Besides, the last week had left him horny as hell after nearly a year of self-imposed celibacy.

He pointed the truck in the same direction that Mac had gone and prayed that he wasn't about to make a big mistake.

* * * * *

He arrived at Mac's apartment twenty minutes later with his stomach churning, but his mind strangely calm and clear. When he reached Mac's door, he didn't even hesitate before knocking.

The door swung open almost immediately, and he was a little relieved to see the flash of uncertainty on Mac's face before it was carefully covered up: Despite his confident act, Mac was just as unsure about this as he was.

Silently, he moved past the younger man into the apartment that he knew almost as well as his own; they spent so much time at each other's place. He stopped in the living room, next to the stereo set against one wall, then fidgeted a little, his uncertainty making itself felt again.

Mac came up behind him and reached over his shoulder to draw him around to face him. "If you really don't want to do this, I won't press," he said, but now that he was looking for it, Vic could see the vulnerability in the younger man's velvety brown eyes.

"Do you really think this can work?" he asked.

"I do," Mac said -- or was that a promise? -- then carefully kissed him.

This kiss was as sweet as the one he'd been replaying in his mind for the last week, but strange at the same time. After a long day of work, Mac's five o'clock stubble was rasping against his own still-smooth cheek, adding a slight burn to the whole sensation. It wasn't an *unpleasant* feeling, mind you. Just strange.

It had also been a long time since he'd kissed someone properly, and he found that he'd missed it. He pressed closer to Mac, wrapping his arms around him, feeling the solid, muscular strength of the younger man. This was new to him as well. Just as new was Mac's height. Every woman he'd ever been with had been shorter and lighter than himself.

And yet, despite all the strangeness, he couldn't deny how good, how *right* it felt.

Vic deepened the kiss, probing for the half-remembered taste of Mac under the malty taste of beer. It was there, and very, very intoxicating. He pressed closer to the source until he couldn't move any closer.

Driven apart by the need for breath, Vic realized that he'd somehow managed to pin Mac against a wall, and the only way he was going to get any closer was by crawling right inside the other man's skin. A little shocked at his reaction, Vic backed away.

Mac slumped back against the wall, a dazed expression on his face. His lips were swollen to an even more lush size than normal, and Vic flashed back to when Harry O'Boyle had called LiAnn "an exotic beauty whose lips can affect weather systems." At that moment, Vic felt the description was more appropriate for Mac.

Then a slow smile spread across those lips, lighting up his entire face. "Well," he said breathlessly. "You certainly don't have anything to learn in the kissing department."

Vic stepped forward, intent on seeing if he could make him even more breathless, but Mac lifted a hand to stop him. Immediately, Vic came back to his senses, as if a very large bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head.

But Mac was still smiling. "Bedroom?" he suggested. "The bed's a lot softer than the wall. Or floor."

Vic breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment he'd been sure that this was when a large crowd of people would jump out of hiding, all yelling "Surprise!" Either that or Mac would laugh in his face for falling for his act. Instead, Mac was leading him into the one part of the apartment he'd never been: The bedroom.

The room was fairly plain and very modern, like the rest of the apartment. The bed had no headboard and the linens were a geometric pattern in dark jewel tones. A simple table sat next to the bed with a single lamp on it. In the corner, a small shrine sat on top of the chest of drawers. Old Man Tang's picture was there, Vic noted, but there wasn't one of Michael Tang. There was also an old black and white picture of a young woman with dark hair. He wanted to ask about her, but Mac didn't give him the chance.

The room spun around him, then came to a stop as he landed flat on his back on the bed. Mac followed, a little slower and a little more careful, but was stretched out on top of him before he could move. He struggled a little, more from instinct than any real desire to get away. Mac just grinned and rode him out, hands locked around his wrists, pressing them into the duvet. "No way," he said, grinning down at Vic. "I've waited too long to get you here to let you get away that easily."

If it had been anyone else, he might have worried at that, but this was Mac, so he just grinned. "You're going to have to let me up if you want to get naked," he said. "Otherwise, we aren't going to be able to do much."

"You think so?" Mac purred back at him. "You might by surprised." He rubbed himself against Vic in a way that quickly had him gasping for air. Who knew that simple friction, through several layers of clothing, no less, could be so exciting?

Then he realized just how on-edge he was and bucked, hard. "Stop!" he shouted, and Mac rolled off him immediately.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to press too hard." Mac looked very contrite.

Vic shook his head. "No, it's not that. I just don't have a change of clothes handy."

Mac blinked, then grinned. "You nearly came in your pants? Just how long *has* it been for you?" Then he apologized again, obviously picking up on Vic's embarrassment. "Sorry, forget I asked. It's none of my business."

"Don't worry about it," Vic said with a sigh. "Let's just say that it's been a little too long and leave it that. Can we get naked now?"

"Naked is good." Mac rolled off the edge of the bed, easily landing on his feet. He must have had a lot of practice in stripping quickly, because he was completely nude before Vic had the chance to do more than get his shirt off and his pants undone.

"I can undress myself," Vic said, swatting away hands that were trying to help him.

"Then move faster," was the impatient reply.

Vic removed the rest of his clothes as quickly as he could, then leaned back to wait for Mac's verdict.

"Not bad for an old guy," the younger man said, but his eyes said much more.

"Old?" Vic said in disbelief. "I'll show you old." He grabbed Mac's arm and tossed him onto the bed, then rolled over on top of him. Unfortunately, the sound Mac made had nothing to do with pleasure of fun. Vic quickly rolled off him again. "Shit! Are you okay?"

Mac hissed, then relaxed. "Yeah. Just be careful with the knee, okay? It doesn't work the way it used to yet."

Vic smiled, relieved. "So who's moving like an old man now?" he teased.

"Don't think it's going to get you out of your bet," Mac said with a snort. "By the time that comes around, I'll be ready to dance all night."

"Or spend a relaxing night listening to some *real* music," Vic shot back.

"I still say she'll dump in less than a year."

Vic shut his eyes. "Do we have to talk about LiAnn's love life right now?" he complained. "It doesn't exactly help the mood."

Mac's expression turned rueful. "Point taken. I promise, no more talk about anyone or anything outside this room."

"Good."

That taken care of, Vic eyed his partner considering his options. This was all pretty new to him and he wasn't really sure what to do next, but kissing had worked before, so he tried that again. Besides, he'd always enjoyed kissing, and Mac had the mouth for it. He sucked on that lush mouth, nibbling and licking until the already swollen lips were even more so. Mac groaned and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him even closer. Vic gasped at the unfamiliar feeling of their erections being almost crushed between them, then went back to the kiss. Mac was responding enthusiastically, and he liked it.

He was learning even more about the differences of being with a man instead of woman, other than the stubble and dick. The chest pressed against his was flat and firm instead of soft and rounded. Not to mention that Mac's chest was covered with a thick mat of curly hair, unlike his own nearly hairless one. Mac's skin, while not exactly coarse, was nowhere as smooth to the touch as LiAnn's, and the hands running up and down his back were broad and callused. All of these things he catalogued while enjoying the feeling of having someone touch him again. It had been far too long and like Mac had reminded him a week earlier, he never had enjoyed being alone.

Then a muscular thigh slipped between his legs to rub against his balls and he broke the kiss again.

Mac looked thoroughly debauched, his lips on their way to being bruised and his face flushed. He moved his leg deliberately and grinned when Vic couldn't hold back his moan. "So, what do you want, Vic? What do you want me to do?"

Vic couldn't stop himself from thrusting, humping Mac's leg like a horny mutt. "Shit!"

"Tell me, Vic."

Panting softly, Vic shook his head. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I told you I've never done this before."

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Vic froze, his mind shrinking away from the idea. He was definitely not ready for *that* quite yet. From either side. "I don't think so," he said uncertainly.

Mac stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "Okay. Simple and uncomplicated this time. Come here."

Mac rolled onto his back and tugged and maneuvered Vic until he was straddling his chest. Mac reached up and Vic hissed as a set of very warm hands wrapped around his dick and cradled his balls. His balls were rolled around in their sack like a pair of ben wa balls, while his dick was stroked in a firm tempo that was both very new and completely familiar. A woman's hand was smaller and she always seemed to be either too gentle or too rough. Mac's hands were experienced the way only a guy could be experienced.

Then his balls were released to the tug of gravity and his hips were pulled forward. He opened his unexpectedly eyes and looked down just in time to see the head of his cock vanish between Mac's lips. Vic didn't even have the breath to gasp as the tip of a tongue ran along the underside of the crown, then swept over the slit, removing the fluid about to spill over from it.

Vic made a sound suspiciously like a whimper and his hips tried to thrust forward almost without his control. Luckily, Mac seemed to be expecting that and kept a firm grasp on his hips, keeping him from thrusting too hard or two far. Vic leaned forward, his hands on either side of Mac's head and let his partner guide his movements. He trusted Mac, he realized. Trusted him to make him feel good. Trusted him not to let him hurt Mac. Trusted him...

Vic was gasping for breath now, thrusting mindlessly. If Mac hadn't been controlling those thrusts he could have ended up choking him in his mindless quest for completion. He wanted to come in the worst way, and was grateful that for the first time in many months he wasn't alone when he did.

And that thought was the clincher. His eyes squeezed shut as his hips twitched and his stomach clenched. It felt so good that it was almost painful. It was all he could do to keep from collapsing and squashing Mac's head like an overripe tomato, a mental image that suddenly had him snickering. Instead, he rolled to the side while Mac scooted up next to him, still chuckling softly to himself.

"Laughter was not exactly the reaction I expected," Mac said with an over the top mock pout.

Suddenly feeling lighter than he could remember being in months, if not years, Vic wrapped an arm around Mac's hairy chest and pulled him near. "I don't know. I think laughter is the *best* reaction," he said in a rough voice, then kissed Mac again.

This time, Mac tasted different. It took him a moment to realize that what he was tasting was himself. He went still for a moment, considering whether that was too weird for words, then decided that he really liked it. Mac was the first person he'd been with who actually swallowed. He dove back into the kiss with gusto.

"Vic," Mac gasped, pulling away. Vic wanted to protest, but then he noticed the pained tone. Glancing down, he could see Mac's erection, an almost angry red. Mac was uncut, he noticed, and wondered where he'd been born. Mac certainly wasn't Jewish, and most North Americans had their kids snipped at birth. It made an interesting contrast to his own circumcised organ.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked. He wasn't sure that he was ready to reciprocate Mac's incredible blowjob, but if that was what Mac wanted, he would do his best. He wanted to make his partner feel as good as he did.

"Something," Mac moaned. "Anything. Whatever you want! Just touch me, please."

Touching, he could do. In fact, he was already touching Mac, although it wasn't by plan. He was running his hand up and down Mac's chest, like he was stroking a large cat. Then one of his strokes bumped against an erect nipple and Mac nearly shot into the air.

Intrigued, Vic repeated the motion, then pinched the nipple between his fingers lightly. Mac gasped and did a sinuous movement against the mattress. Just to see what would happen, Vic did the same to Mac's other nipple and was rewarded by both a keening sound and the sight of Mac's cock doing a jerk. If anything, it seemed to be getting both darker and larger.

Fascinated, Vic let go of the rock hard nipple he was pinching and reached down to wrap his fingers around Mac's cock and gave it an experimental tug. It seemed to pulse in his hand and a small stream of clear fluid spurted from the head. A little more confident now, Vic started to pump Mac's erection, using a stoke that he enjoyed himself. The angle wasn't quite right, but he was too fascinated by the feel of the loose bit of extra skin to be bothered. It was interesting, feeling that skin under his hand, sliding as he stroked.

Mac must have been really close to the edge, because before Vic knew it, milky semen was spurting onto Mac's chest, as well as running down his own hand. He kept stroking until the cock started to wilt in his hand. He let go and watched in fascination as the head was completely covered by the foreskin. Then he lifted his hand to his face and sniffed. It didn't smell any different from his own semen and he gave it a cautious lick. The flavor was the same too.

But before he could do anything more, Mac grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand down. Vic watched in disbelief as Mac licked his hand clean, running his tongue between and around his fingers, finishing up by sucking in his index and middle finger and giving them the same treatment he'd given Vic's cock not to long ago.

Then his hand was released and he collapsed next to Mac, gasping for breath, hard and aching again. Mac looked down his body and grinned. "Well, someone liked that," he commented.

Vic laughed again. "And you damned well know it."

"So, are going to want to do this again?"

Vic rubbed his renewed erection against Mac's hip. "What do you think?"

Mac turned so that their cocks were nestled together. "That goes without saying. But how about tomorrow night?"

Vic kissed him lightly. "And the night after and the night after that," he said happily. He was almost shocked at how good he felt. Maybe he'd freak out tomorrow, but right then, the thought of years of this was very attractive.

"Great!" Mac said, then pulled away. Vic grabbed for him, but Mac had already rolled out of bed and was headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked in disbelief, propping himself up on his elbows.

Mac paused in the doorway, posing sexily in a way that *had* to be deliberate. "I'm going to take a shower."

"What!?"

"Do you *know* what it's like trying to get dried semen out of chest hair? Never mind," he said, glancing at Vic's smooth chest. "Let's just say that rubber cement can be easier." Then he disappeared from view.

Vic flopped back against the pillows, groaning in near pain. "Great," he told his disappointed cock. "Just great."

"Well, aren't you coming?" Mac's voice wafted from the bathroom.

Vic grinned, no longer disappointed, and hopped out of the bed. He wasn't sure just what Mac had in mind for the shower, but he couldn't wait to find out. One thing he was sure of, though: It was going to blow his mind.

* * * * *

When Vic woke the next morning, he was alone in the bed, although he could still smell Mac on the pillow next to him, not to mention the stale smell of sex. He rolled onto this back and looked at the ceiling, wondering if this was when he was going to freak out.

A minute later, he realized that the expected freak out just wasn't going to happen. He'd had fun, and he thought Mac had also enjoyed himself, so maybe his sexuality was a little more... flexible than he'd thought. Certainly, before the first time Mac had kissed him, he'd always thought that he was straight enough to be used as a ruler. Even the Director was a little too unusual for him. But now, after one night with Mac, all he could think of was a repeat performance. He might even try sucking *Mac* next time. He was curious to see what it was like from that end, so to speak.

So, since he *wasn't* going to have a heterosexual panic attack, Vic got out of bed and went looking for his partner.

The apartment was depressingly empty, other than him, but the note taped to the mirror in the bathroom told him that Mac had left for work early, since he and Jackie were supposed to go talk to a suspect before breakfast. A razor and a toothbrush, both still in their wrappers, sat on the edge of the sink, ready for him. Vic shook his head at the supreme confidence that those objects indicated. Obviously, Mac had considered the night before to be an inevitability. Maybe it had been, sooner or later. After all, more than a year of history had led to it.

Once he'd showered, he dressed in his own clothes, then headed out the door, setting it to lock behind him. He decided to swing past his apartment for a quick change of clothing before heading to work. Even though he would bet money that the Director knew exactly what had happened, he didn't really want to advertise it. Not yet at least. He just was *not* ready for Dobrinsky's sarcasm, Jackie's leers or... whatever LiAnn's reaction was going to be when she found out.

On his arrival at Headquarters, he headed for the main briefing room, praying equally that the Director wouldn't engage in any innuendo and that she *would* have something interesting for him to do for once.

"Mr. Mansfield!"

Vic turned at the sound of his name being called out and found Dr. Chang hurry down the usually lifeless hallway after him. He stopped and waited for the younger man to catch up with him. "What's up, Doc?" he asked, wincing when he realized who he was quoting.

"I..." Dr. Chang stopped. He was shifting his weight back and forth in a way that was dampening Vic's good mood.

"Yes?" he prompted. A week ago he probably would have snapped, but now he just wanted the man to say whatever it was he wanted to say so that he could get on with his job.

"It's about LiAnn."

Vic straightened up. "What? Is she okay?" He looked past Chang, down the side hall that led to the med center.

"No, no, she's fine," Chang said quickly. "It's just... I know that you two were... together, before. I just--" He stopped again and Vic had to resist the urge to snicker.

"Let me put your worries to rest. Yes, LiAnn and I were engaged. Yes, I guess you could say I still love her. No, I am not upset that she's now engaged to you. Yes, I do wish you both the best. And yes, I have moved on too." He grinned, the night before flashing through his mind for only the tenth time so far that morning. Yep, he'd definitely moved on, he thought cheerfully.

Immediately, all the tension seemed to drain from the young doctor. "Great, that's great," he said, then shook Vic's hand. "Thank you very much!"

Vic watched the man disappear down the hallway, then looked at his hand and laughed. He felt like a father who'd just been asked for his daughter's hand in marriage. Of course, if LiAnn were his daughter then he would have been in big trouble for the time they'd been lovers. Still, he found he liked Thomas Chang, especially when he wasn't being an Agency doctor, and hoped that for once Mac was wrong.

And if summoned by that thought, Mac appeared, trotting to keep up with the much smaller blonde. "Hi, Vic!" Jackie called cheerfully as she passed him.

Mac slowed down as she disappeared from sight. "Hey," he said, smiling cheerfully at Vic. Only someone who knew him very well would be able to see the question behind the smile.

"Hey," Vic shot back, expressionless. Slowly, Mac's smile faded. His eyes twitched away. Finally, Vic stopped holding back his pleased grin. "You free tonight?"

"Sure," Mac said, letting out a deep gusting sigh. "My place again?"

"Nah," Vic said. "I was thinking mine. I'll even make sure they haven't replaced the camera in the light fixture above the bed again."

The wide-eyed gaze made him laugh. "You're joking, right?" Vic shook his head. "Shit, maybe I should check my place."

"You don't already?" Vic asked in surprise. "How do you think she knows just when to show up?"

"Luck?" Mac said hopefully. Vic rolled his eyes. "You know, sometimes I really *really* hate working here."

"Maaaaac! You coming?"

They both winced at the piercing shout that could probably be heard two levels down. "Like now," Mac added, already heading down the hallway at top speed. "Later!"

Vic grinned and headed on his way again. A private briefing from the Director on a case he was being assigned to. He prayed again that she wasn't going to tease him *too* much.

* * * * *

EPILOGUE

Ten months, three weeks later, LiAnn showed up for a team meeting -- a post-mission briefing -- both hands bare of any jewelry.

"You want to talk about it?" Vic offered softly.

"Hmm?" He looked at her left hand pointedly. "Oh, that. It just wasn't working. I guess I'm just not meant for marriage."

Vic was a little taken back by how casually she commented on the fact that she'd just ended her third engagement. You would think that she would be a little more upset. On the other hand, he hadn't been in any shape to notice her reaction after she'd broken off *their* engagement, and by the time he had, they'd settled into a comfortable friendship.

Her reaction didn't upset him now, though. It just made him sad.

However, it had been less than a year. He met his lover's eyes behind LiAnn's back and nodded ruefully. They'd had a bet and he was going to live with it. It wasn't going to be too bad, though. In the last year, Mac had managed to drag him out clubbing more and more often. He was even learning to enjoy the dancing, even if he had yet to hear anything that he was willing to call *music*. Besides, a night of dancing just got Mac hyped up, leading to wild sex when they got home, and he found wild sex with Mac incredibly satisfying. He found it hard to believe that he'd ever hesitated to get involved with the younger man. Mac had broken past first his barriers, then his inhibitions. He couldn't imagine going back to his old life anymore.

At the end of the meeting, they'd headed to the door, only to realize that LiAnn wasn't with them. Puzzled, they turned. She was still sitting at the table.

"Hey, LiAnn," Mac called out. "Vic and I are going clubbing tonight," he said, shooting a wicked grin at Vic. "Wanna come?"

"Actually," the Director said, "Miss Tsei has plans."

"Plans?"

"Yes, plans. So shoo, boys. I'm sure you two want to... settle up."

Seeing the order for what it was, they shooed.

"Um, you don't think..."

"What?" Mac said. "That the Director has... plans for LiAnn? It wouldn't surprise me. After all, does she strike you as the type to let a little thing like gender get in her way?"

"It doesn't bother you?"

Mac stopped dead in the middle of the hall, staring at him in disbelief. Then he shook his head and chuckled, heading for the exit again. "Considering *our* relationship, why should it? Hell, who knows. Maybe the reason LiAnn can't hold down a relationship with a guy is because she really wants a good woman. Besides, the Director certainly won't put up with her usual tricks." Put that way, it almost made sense, but Vic wasn't sure he was willing to go there yet.

Outside, they headed for Mac's car. While they still had separate apartments, they pretty much lived at Mac's place and used his car. They had no illusions about whether or not the Director knew; the comment about 'settling up' said that she knew about their bet, so she definitely knew about their living arrangements. However, she seemed willing to ignore their relationship as long as it didn't cause *her* any problems, so they made sure it didn't. Jackie had figured it out quickly and had delighted in teasing them. Dobrinsky just rolled his eyes. As for the Cleaners, who knew what *they* thought.

LiAnn, on the other hand, seemed completely clueless and they hadn't bothered clueing her in. Maybe someday, when they were sure that she wouldn't freak on them.

They were almost to the car when Vic noticed Tom Chang heading towards another car, a completely shell-shocked expression on his face. He nudged Mac with his elbow, then pointed in Tom's direction. He'd gotten to know the Asian doctor over the last year and had found him a really nice guy. He'd thought of warning the man, but knew that Tom wouldn't believe him any more than he'd believed Mac's warnings. "New member for the club," he said softly.

Mac sighed, but the sound was more sympathetic than exasperated. "Let me guess, let's distract him from his woes?" Vic nodded. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. But you owe me big time when I get you to bed."

"Like that's a hardship."

"Oh, it will be 'hard.' I promise. Hey, doc!" he called out, and waited until the man turned to face them. "We're going out for the evening. Wanna come along?"

"I don't know..." Tom said a little shakily.

"Why not?" Vic said, throwing in his own two cents. "We've both been there, done that. Besides, it's better than going home and moping or getting drunk. Believe me. I've been there, done *that* too."

"Well..." He still sounded hesitant, but he was drifting in their direction.

As soon as he was close enough, Vic slung an arm around his shoulders. "C'mon. Dance your cares away. If nothing else, you'll be too tired to brood when you get home."

After one last look back, Tom squared his shoulders and said, "Why not?"

And the organization of the Ex-Lovers of LiAnn grew by one. Vic just hoped that Tom would eventually find someone to help him get over LiAnn the way Mac had helped him.
 

THE END