Victor looked around the room in confusion. It looked like a warehouse,
though strangely decorated. Lit candles were everywhere, and a Persian
rug was spread out over the concrete floor. He turned around, looking.

"Hello," he called out. "Is anyone there?"

"Is anyone ever there?"

Victor spun to find a figure seated cross-legged on the rug. The voice
was hoarse, obviously disguised, and the person was wearing orange robes,
like some sort of mystic. It was impossible to figure out whether the
person was male or female, but Victor thought male.

He also hadn't been there two seconds ago.

"Where am I? Why am I here?" he demanded.

"Why are any of us here? We are not free."

"What do you mean?"

"We are not free. You are not free. If you are not free, then you must
belong to someone. The Agency, perhaps?"

Suddenly Victor realized that his hands were cuffed. A collar was buckled
around his neck and a lead was attached to it. Following the line of the
lead, he found the other end in the hands of the Director. She watched
him with a smirk.

"No," he said, pulling back. "The Agency may control me, but it doesn't
*own* me." The Director faded away.

"You are not free. If you are not free, then you must belong to someone,"
the figure repeated.

"He belongs to me."

Mac Ramsey was now standing where the Director had been before. The end
of the leash was now held in Mac's hand. For a moment, Victor rebelled
against the thought. Then, suddenly, he relaxed.

"Yes," he said to the orange-robed man. "I belong to him." The figure
faded out of existence. Victor turned back to Mac, but he was
disappearing too.

"Wait!" Victor called out.

"Don't worry, Love. I'm not going anywhere," Mac said as he disappeared.

Victor jerked awake. He was in bed. It had just been a dream. He rolled
over and curled up against Mac, the other man's chest hairs tickling his
cheek. He gave a deep sigh and relaxed again.

"Y'okay?" came a sleepy rumble from the chest under his cheek.

"Never better," he replied, then slipped back into sleep.

* * * * *

When Mac woke the next morning, he wanted to ask Victor about the dream.
He'd woken in the middle of the night to find his partner shifting
restlessly in his sleep, mumbling something about not belonging to the
Agency.

Unfortunately, they overslept and had to move fast, and when they'd
arrived at work, they were immediately thrown into a new assignment.
Moorcock, an Irish terrorist accused of murder, despite his non-violent
stance, was operating in the area. He'd apparently blown up a truck
carrying archaeological artifacts. The British government had sent one
of their top agents, Ian Lesley, to catch the man.

Vic had obviously been thrilled to work with the man, one of the few
British agents with a 'License to Terminate'. (Who did they think they
were, anyway? James bloody Bond?) Unfortunately, the man turned out to be
a big disappointment, a publicity front. While he spent all his time
romancing LiAnn, his 'dogsbody', Grubb, seemed to be doing all the work.

Then things had gone terribly wrong during the plan to catch Moorcock.
Vic had been driving a truck loaded with more artifacts, but Moorcock
attacked it sooner than they had expected. Mac had nearly had a heart-
attack when they had arrived at the truck to find that Grubb had already
been there, and had locked Moorcock and Victor in the back of the truck,
which was rigged to explode. They had barely gotten the two men out in
time.

That was when they had learned that Grubb was actually Lesley's superior.
While he had been sent to make a public show of trying to *catch*
Moorcock, Grubb's mission was to kill the man, and he didn't care *who*
he had to kill in order to succeed. He had already killed a cop who had
pulled him over for speeding. He would have killed Lesley and LiAnn, as
well, for interfering if Moorcock hadn't shot him instead.

So now the injured Grubb was being shipped back to England in disgrace,
Moorcock had vanished and Lesley was gone too. LiAnn was moping and the
Director was nowhere to be found, so Mac and Vic were taking a few days
off. Unfortunately they were both in neckbraces, after fighting
Moorcock's thugs, two ex-pro wrestlers. It was definitely putting a crimp
in their sex-lives, but it gave them some time to talk, so he finally got
a description of Vic's dream.

"It was the warehouse from a few weeks ago. You know, the one we woke up
in, and no one could remember how we got there?"

"Except that other director. The one who died."

Vic frowned. "Yeah. When I was coming to, I heard him tell the Director
that it was better that she *didn't* remember. That *he* had left his
memories alone because he was dying. Poisoned."

"So... maybe the guy in your dream *was* there, and you just can't
remember when you're awake, so he shows up in your dreams."

"Maybe... If so, he has something to do with the Agency at a high level.
All I know was that he was telling me that I wasn't free, that I belonged
to someone. The choice was between the Director and..." He shifted, not
quite meeting Mac's eyes. "And you. I picked you."

Mac felt his eyes widen slightly. Then he started to grin. "So... you
belong to me, huh?"

"Don't get ideas, Ramsey," Vic snarled, but his eyes were smiling. Mac
couldn't stop grinning an the idea.

* * * * *

"Well, gentlemen. Ready to get out of your collars? The physical ones,
that is." Victor glared at the man. The comment was uncomfortably close
to the images from his dream.

"Would you stop babbling and just *do* it?" Mac snapped at the agency
doctor.

"Temper, temper, sport. You two are lucky, y'know. You should pick your
fights more carefully." The doctor unsnapped Victor's collar.

"It's not like we *had* a choice," Victor said, sighing in relief as the
neckbrace came off. The damn thing had been hot, and he had developed an
itch he couldn't scratch the moment it had gone on. He noticed, with some
amusement, that Mac had started scratching the same spot on *his* neck as
soon as *his* neckbrace had come off.

"Sheesh," Mac said as they headed out the door. "If that guy wasn't
white, I'd think he was Dobrinsky's twin brother."

"Not to mention the fact that he's twenty years too old."

"Details, details. So. What do you want to do?" The braces were off, but
they weren't back on the job until the next day, so they quickly made
their escape. Once outside, they both took deep breaths of the chilly
fall air.

"I don't know. You choose."

"Ummm..."

* * * * *

Victor wondered if maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to let Mac
choose their afternoon's activities. He liked skating - hockey skating,
that is - but in-line skates were a different matter. On a rink, you
didn't have cracks and bulges in the ice, and the skates didn't have
those damn rubber brake thingies. As a result, he had provided Mac with
great amounts of amusement, and himself with great numbers of bruises. He
frowned up at his partner from his current position, sitting in the middle
of the bike path at the park.

"Laugh all you like, Ramsey. Just remember, if it's too bruised, you
won't get anywhere near it tonight."

Somehow, the comment just made Mac laugh louder. He was leaning over to
help Victor up, when Victor heard the distinctive sound of a bullet
whizzing by. Grabbing the out-stretched hand, he pulled Mac to the
ground, covering him and pulling his gun at the same time.

"What the hell? Vic, this really isn't a good time or place for this sort
of..."

"Shh..." he said, scanning the crowd. What direction had the shot come
from? This was too much like when Bingo tried to shoot him at the beach.
The left. A cluster of trees. There!

"Over there," he said, pointing. "It's Chang." Hard to mistake him. "Are
you armed?"

"Of course," Mac replied, pulling his favorite gun out from under his
jacket. "You see, I have this really paranoid partner, and he's rubbing
off on me. I'll circle around. Cover me."

"Wait! Mac!" But Mac was already gone. Victor started fumbling with the
skate buckles. "How the hell am I supposed to cover anyone with these
damn things on?"

Finally the skates were off, and he was ducking through the thin crowd in
his stocking feet. As he neared the cluster of trees, he could see Chang
moving. Moving towards... Mac!

Victor realized, in a flash, what his partner was doing. He was luring
Chang away from the park, and the people there, trusting Victor to save
him. Victor put on a burst of speed. He was *not* going to let Mac down.

Mac was already out of the park, keeping obstacles between him and Chang.
Luckily, the other man was not terribly fast or agile - not surprising
considering his build. Mac was heading down towards the water and the
boathouse, from what Victor could see. He started moving parallel to the
two men, waiting for his chance at a clear shot.

Chang fired on Mac several more times before they had reached the
boathouse, but either he was a lousy shot, or he was toying with Mac,
because he missed wide each time. Victor was willing to bet on the lousy
shot, since the man also seemed pretty stupid. All his focus was on Mac.
Even though he had seen him with Victor, the man hadn't even glanced
around *once* to see if anyone was tracking *him*.

Victor breathed a sigh of relief when Mac ducked into the boathouse.
There would be better cover inside, considering the size of the building,
and more opportunities for the two of them to ambush Chang. He headed for
a different entrance than the one the other two men had used.

Through the door, he paused a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the
dim lighting. He could hear Mac and Chang moving, but the echoes made it
difficult to tell *where* the sounds were coming from. He started moving,
trying to track the louder noises, knowing that Mac could move a *lot*
quieter than Chang.

He had almost made a complete circuit of the boathouse before he saw
movement. Holding his gun at the ready, he crept up on the shadowy figure.

It was Chang. He couldn't see what the other man was watching, but
chances are it was Mac. Victor was moving forward, planning on knocking
Chang out. Suddenly, the man grinned - a very unpleasant expression - and
his gun swung to point into the corner of the room. Victor couldn't tell
if Mac was actually *there*, but he wasn't about to take chances.

"Mac! Down!" he yelled, and fired three times.

The sound of the shots, in the enclosed space, were deafening. Chang
jerked, then fell, not having had the chance to fire. Gun still ready,
Victor moved to check the man.

He was dead. Two of the shots had hit him in the heart. The third had
blown half his head away. Victor did not play around when his lover's
life was at stake.

"Vic! We better get out of here before someone calls the cops!"

Victor ignored the comment, intent on a more important issue. "Are you
okay?"

"Yes. Chang couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Now, let's go! The
Director will be *really* pissed if she has to bail us out of jail."

Victor let Mac pull him towards the door. Chang was dead, and there were
sirens heading their way. No reason for them to stay.

* * * * *

Mac unlocked the door to his apartment, and motioned Vic through. They
had called in the incident to the Agency, which would make sure that the
police did not link the shooting back to them or the Agency. They might
even be able to find Vic's rentals skates and return them to the kiosk.
He turned to set the locks behind him when he felt a body push him up
against the door.

"Y'know, I keep forgetting just how much gun-fights turn you on, Vic," he
said with a grin.

Vic pulled away, long enough to turn him around so that his back was to
the door. Then he was diving in for some serious hickey action. "Could
have lost you, today," he growled around a mouthful of Mac's neck. "If
you hadn't bent down, when Chang shot..."

Mac grabbed Vic's face with both hands and dragged it into a position
better suited for kissing. When their lips separated, they were both
panting.

"I'm *fine*. None of the bullets touched me. Now, how about we go to bed,
and I'll show you just *how* fine I am."

Vic's face brightened at the thought, and he went willingly as Mac tugged
him towards the bedroom. The bed wasn't *really* necessary, but it would
certainly be more comfortable.

In the bedroom, Mac pulled away. "Strip," he ordered.

One of these days, he was going to have to get a video camera. Film would
be awfully risky, but he just *had* to have one of Vic's strip routines
on tape. For those nights when they were on separate assignments, of
course. Vic could have made a fortune in the strip club business.

Mac didn't try to draw out his own disrobing. His clothes flew through
the air. Grabbing Vic, he tossed the man onto the bed, quickly following
him. Vic grabbed him, and they tumbled back and forth, until Mac took
advantage of his slight edge in size and pinned his lover to the bed. Vic
looked up at him, flushed and out of breath, but also laughing. The worry
lines that had been all over his face since Chang had taken his first
shots had disappeared, and his eyes glowed.

Suddenly, Mac felt a melting inside of him. A year ago, if you had told
him he was going to be involved with another man, he would have laughed.
Or attacked. But now... Vic was quickly becoming all he wanted in life.
He just wasn't sure that he could tell the other man. Maybe someday.
Soon. After all, he trusted the man with his life and his body. Maybe he
*could* trust him with his heart as well.

But in the meantime. He stretched out on top of Vic, only holding enough
of his weight on his elbows to keep from completely squishing the man,
and bent his head to take advantage of the conveniently open mouth. He
took his time, exploring every nook and cranny. Then he moved his way
down, making detours to be sure that the nipples hadn't changed during
his absence. He drew back a moment to admire how they stood out from the
smooth chest, so unlike his own hair-covered chest.

The navel was next, causing more giggles. Until Vic, he had never thought
that a man could giggle appealingly, but Vic did.

Finally, he reached his prize. He slung Vic's legs over his shoulders,
gripping the man's hips to keep him from thrusting as Mac swallowed his
cock. Up and down, reveling in the taste and sound of his lover. He
reached out blindly with one hand, and a tube of lubricant was dropped
into it. Simultaneously, he pressed his face down until Vic's pubic hairs
were tickling his nose, and slid two fingers into the man's ass. Vic
spasmed, then pulsed his seed down Mac's throat with a full-bodied cry.

Mac pulled back a little, and coated his own erection with the rest of
the lube, Moving back up Vic's body, keeping the legs hooked over his
shoulders, he pressed into Vic, while leaning in for a kiss. Completely
limp from his own orgasm, Vic could do nothing but moan as Mac started
to thrust.

Mac looked down at his lover. The expression of tenderness he saw there
made him feel like his world was finally falling into place. He gasped,
and froze, buried inside Vic as deep as he could go. For a moment he
thought he could feel each spurt as it traveled deeper and deeper into
the other man, never to come out again.

Then he collapsed.

* * * * *

When Mac woke, he was cuddled up against Vic, his cheek pressed to the
other man's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm *fine*," he reassured the man, again. "And now I have one less enemy
lurking in my past."

"Do you think this is over?"

Mac paused, then finally said, "No. Chang shouldn't have got out of jail
so soon. Someone had to have arranged it. Someone with a lot of power.
And he's far too dumb to have managed to track me to Toronto. No. I think
someone else is behind this."

Vic sighed. "That's kinda what I figured too. Still, whoever it is,
they're not likely to make another attempt too soon.

"Maybe."

* * * * *

"The death of Kevin Chang has been chalked up to gang warfare," the
Director was saying as she watched her agents. Victor thought she looked
very self-satisfied, but he wasn't sure if it was because Chang was dead,
or that the death was not linked to the Agency, or if it had something to
do with the fact that she'd been missing for several days. Victor had
some suspicions about that, since he'd been told she was out of the
country, since she'd disappeared the same time as Lesley had headed back
to England. However, he valued his life, so he wasn't going to suggest
that anywhere where LiAnn might hear him.

"However, we still don't know who got him out of jail, or how he ended up
in Toronto, so keep your eyes open, children.

"Now, your next assignment..."
 

----------------------------------------
Thoughts From A Coffin
by Lianne Burwell
June 1998
----------------------------------------

Mac was lying on the floor of the bar. Everything was growing dim. He was
dying. Then an angel appeared, pulling him back from the brink, saving
his life.

"LiAnn..."

It was a sign. He knew it. The Fates were telling him that his was where
he belonged, who he belonged to. He understood now. He looked up into her
beautiful face.

She was gone. Vic was there instead. He was crouched over Mac, gun held
ready.

"Don't worry, Mac. I'll protect you. They'll have to come through me
first, Love."

* * * * *

Mac woke with a gasp. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. A
glance at the clock said that it was two a.m.

He slumped back on the bed, trying to figure out the dream. For the last
several nights, he'd been dreaming about the accident. He'd taken a whiff
of one of the Cleaner's deadly potions, not knowing that the fumes were
deadly too. LiAnn had saved his life by injecting the antidote directly
into his heart.

He had been certain that it was a sign, that it meant that LiAnn was the
one he was meant to be with. Now he wasn't so sure. Suddenly, he was
remembering all the time that *Victor* had saved his life.

It was so confusing. He'd thrown himself at LiAnn, but she had said 'no'.
And if she told Victor... he might lose his lover too.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

* * * * *

Victor handed Oliver Drake off with a sigh of relief. The man wasn't too
bad, and he *had* gotten to meet former child actress Cleo Redford
(though the thought of the two *together* seemed... wrong somehow), but
still... The man was a *politician*, for crying out loud. Not to mention
a member of GAC - the Government Advisory Council - which he was *not*
surprised to learn was the main funder of the Agency.

GAC was a kingmaker. They had influence over, if not out-right control
of, many of the most powerful nations. Not that their *existence* could
even be proved. It made him uncomfortable, so he was glad to dump the
bodyguarding duty.

Except... why was Drake so intent on having *Mac* as his bodyguard? Mac
was still recovering, not much use in case of an attack. Victor hadn't
had the chance to see his lover since he gotten from the hospital, but
he had heard that the younger man was still pretty weak.

Considering Cleo, it wasn't likely that Drake was looking to get into
Mac's pants, so why... Somehow, Victor had a bad feeling about this.

And then there was LiAnn. She'd been giving him the strangest looks
lately. He hoped she wasn't changing her mind about the break-up, because
there was no way he was *ever* leaving Mac.

* * * * *

The coffin lid clanged shut, and Mac was left in the darkness, an oxygen
tank the only thing to keep him alive.

Now what?

Now, apparently, he was to be shipped back to Hong Kong. The coffin
seemed very appropriate all of the sudden, since the result was probably
going to be his own death.

One of the things that Drake had said was running through his mind. They
had been talking about love - Drake talking about Cleo and Mac talking
about LiAnn, though in his mind he was still trying to figure out if it
was LiAnn or Vic he was *really* talking about. Anyway, Drake had said:
"You're in love with the girl, you have to be with her. Now you just have
to figure out how far you're willing to go to be with her."

But who? He started running through the possible options, the possible
futures.

LiAnn. He'd left the Tangs for her. No. That was mostly because of
Michael. She'd saved his life. She'd chosen Vic's life over him. She
looked after him while he was ill. She forgot his birthday.

He tried to picture them together thirty years down the road. Parents,
maybe. Grandparents even.

The image refused to come clear.

Vic. Standing up for him at his almost wedding, even with the hurt
lurking in his eyes. Vic saying he loved him. Vic saying he belonged to
Mac. Vic protecting him. Vic killing for him. He pictured the two of
*them* thirty years from now.

Mac grinned. Vic was cooking dinner. Proper Hong Kong food that he had
learned to make for Mac. Vic was refusing to even look at the squid. They
were arguing over what sort of music to play. They were making love.

Shit. He understood now. How could he have made such an idiot of himself
with LiAnn. He'd make it up to Vic, somehow.

Then he realized he probably wouldn't get the chance. Unless help came
soon, he'd be in Hong Kong. He'd be dead.

That was when the gunfire started.

* * * * *

Victor crouched behind the parked car, watching Cleo head into the
warehouse. He wanted to kill her, then and there, but the Director wanted
to get *all* of them. He didn't care. He just wanted Mac, safe and sound.

When he found out the Cleo and Drake were shipping a coffin to Hong
Kong, his stomach had dropped. No wonder Drake was so insistent on having
Mac as a bodyguard. He was planning on selling Mac to the Tangs. Victor
just prayed that it was supposed to be a live delivery.

He stayed where he was, waiting for a signal from the Director. Then he
heard the sound of a machine gun firing inside the building.

Fuck waiting. He was going in.

* * * * *

LiAnn rushed for the coffin. The last of the bad guys were being rounded
up. Personally, she'd rather kill them all. She threw open the lid,
dreading what she might see.

Mac was lying there, arms on his chest and an oxygen mask strapped to his
face. She sighed in relief as he blinked at her, then sat up.

"What took you so long?" he asked.

LiAnn smiled at him, thankful he was okay. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she
shouldn't have been so quick to say no. Maybe...

But he wasn't looking at her anymore. He was looking over at Victor, and
the expression in his eyes... No. Her chance was gone.

Victor came rushing over. "Mac! Are you all right?" He ran a hand over
the sides of the coffin. "Thank god this thing was bulletproof."

"I'm fine, Vic. I just...want to go home."

Before she knew what had happened, Victor had pulled Mac from the coffin
and was hustling him out the door. She stood there and watched them go.

"Are *you* all right?"

She turned to find the Director standing next to her.

"Yeah. I think so."

"Good. Let's get out of here." With that, the older woman tossed an arm
around her shoulders and steered her towards the van, where their
prisoners were already stashed. They'd drop them off at the Agency,
then...

Then what? She'd figure something out.

* * * * *

Victor had hustled Mac back to his place, and was doing his best to
completely pamper the man. Physical stress - not to mention the emotional
stress - of the day, combined with his recovery from being poisoned was
not good for the young man.

So... A bubble bath (a gift from his little sister before she ran off to
India or Pakistan or wherever), and hot chocolate (laced liberally with
rum). Fluffy blankets and soft music on the stereo. He had thought of
cooking, himself, but decided to order out from Mac's favorite Hong Kong
delivery restaurant instead. Cooking would mean not being in the same
room. So, there they were, cuddled together, waiting for the food. Life
was good.

"Vic?"

"Hmmm?"

"I... I had some time to think today. When I was in that coffin."

Victor froze. All at once he felt a little ill. Mac was going to say he
wanted to break off. He just *knew* it.

"I started thinking about the future. What I wanted. Who I wanted. I know
I've been acting a little strange this week, but I finally decided."

Victor braced himself.

"You know when you said that you belonged to me? After that Moorcock
thing?" Victor nodded. "Well, I realized today that the feeling is very
much mutual."

All the air in Victor's lungs expelled with a woosh, as he listened to
the hesitant speech continue.

"I was thinking about the future, and I realized that not only could I
*see* us still together, years from now, I *wanted* that to happen. I
know I've been an ass in the past, including the very *recent* past, but
if you still..."

Victor finally silenced the young man with a kiss. "Mac, I love. I've
told you that before, and I plan to keep telling you on a regular basis,
for a *very* long time. I plan to keep proving it to you..."

<ding-dong>

"But not until after dinner. I'm starved."

Mac looked at him, astonished, for a long moment, then started to
snicker. By the time Victor had gotten to the door with his money, Mac
was laughing so hard that he had to hold his sides.

Victor paid the delivery boy, leaving him with a hefty tip, then turned
back to his laughing lover.

"So, are you gonna help me with this, or do I need to eat it all myself?"

Still snickering, Mac pulled himself to his feet and headed for the
kitchen to collect plates and a fork for Victor. One of these days,
Victor knew he'd get the hang of the chop-sticks, but not today.

Inside, he felt like dancing. Everything he wanted was falling into
place. All they had left to do was figure out a way of getting out of the
Agency.

So why did he feel like the other shoe was about to drop?

* * * * *

Mac rolled over and looked at the clock. It was quarter to two in the
morning. In the faint moonlight coming from the window, he could just
make out the features of his lover. Vic was cuddled up next to him. It
was one of the ways that they were so compatible. They were both
cuddlers. LiAnn used to complain, sometime, that it was sleeping with an
octopus, the way Mac wrapped himself around her in his sleep. He wondered
if she used to make the same complaint to Vic.

Oh, well. It wasn't like it mattered anymore.

Dinner had been slow and messy, neither of them using fork or chop-
sticks. Instead, they had finger-fed each other, getting sauce and rice
all over the place. Vic hadn't even insisted on scrubbing everything
clean, afterwards. It'll wait 'til morning, he'd said.

So they had gone to bed, instead. Unfortunately, they were both to tired
to do anything. Instead, they'd just ended up falling asleep, a tangle of
limbs. Very domestic. Very comfortable.

Mac glanced over at the clock again. Two a.m. The last time he'd woken
up at this time, he had been a bundle of confusion. Not anymore. It
wasn't exactly what he'd expected from life - a moralistic ex-cop with a
taste for eight-tracks and hockey - but it was what he had, and he wasn't
going to give him up.

Mac rolled against Vic's side, and was immediately pulled into a tight
embrace by the still-sleeping man. Life was good. The only thing that
would make it better would be having the chance to make a life outside of
the Agency.

So why did he feel like the other shoe was about to drop?

* * * * *

LiAnn watched Mac from across the room. She had just given him the out
that he had so desperately wanted. He had apologized for pushing her,
saying that she was right. The past belonged in the past. Only, she
wasn't so sure anymore.

But it *was* the past. Mac didn't really need her in his future. He had
Victor. She had... nothing. All that time spent trying to decide which of
them she really wanted. Which one she would choose to spend her life
with. And while she was trying to decide, they had chosen each other.

They looked good together. She had to admit that. And they were better
suited to each other, bickering aside. Both were romantics. Both wanted
life-time commitments, hearts and flowers and she still didn't think she
was ready for that. She wasn't sure she'd *ever* be ready for that. But
she did feel... left out. Like instead of being the third angle of a
triangle, suddenly she was a third wheel. Out of place.

"It was a good thing, what you did."

LiAnn looked up to see the Director standing there. She could see that
the woman knew *exactly* what she'd been thinking about "I know. But it
still hurts."

"Letting go of the past often does. You could have refused to back away.
You could have fought for him. Who knows, you might even had won."

"No. He had already decided on Victor. I don't think I would have won."

The Director shrugged. "Maybe so. Now, I have a yen to go salsa dancing
again. Care to join me? I'll even lend you an outfit to wear."

LiAnn started to smile for what felt like the first time in days. "Just
as long as you don't expect me to dress like a man again."

"No... Actually, I have this fetching little red dress that will look
just *wonderful* on you. C'mon. Let's go dance the night away."

LiAnn stood, and let the Director lead her from the bar. She didn't look
back. Not even once. Life wasn't that bad, after all.

So why did she feel like the other shoe was about to drop?
 

----------------------------------------
In The End
by Lianne Burwell
June 1998
----------------------------------------

In a bedroom, in an apartment in Toronto, a young woman sits up, coming
completely awake from a dream. As she looks around the apartment, gasping
and wild-eyed, she speaks one word only.

"Michael."

* * * * *

Victor sighed , and wished that Jackie would back off. First she had done
her best to make him jump out of his skin, then she'd draped herself all
over him, talking about her grade one play, where she'd played a basket
of tomatoes. How appropriate. Now he was stuck with her, sitting in a
hotel lobby, watching the elite of the international crime world march
through. No one knew what the heck they were doing in Toronto.

Of course the Director had to send *her* to be his "field guide to these
underworld types." Why couldn't she have sent Mac? Of course, they might
not have paid much attention to the hoards of mobsters who were checking
into the hotel. The Director wanted to know *why* they were all showing
up in town, together, and she wanted to know *now*. Jackie was enjoying
herself, pointing out all the people she knew.

"Like, don't look now, but over by the piano is a jewel thief with his
ex-partner."

Victor looked over, and saw his lover and their other partner come in.
Mac looked over, and he could see the love in the other man's eyes. Then
Jackie slapped him on the back with a laugh, almost knocking his glasses
off.

"I told you, don't *look*." The blonde grinned. "Wouldn't you just *love*
to know what they're talking about right now?"

Victor tried to pay attention to the paper that was his cover. A poor
one, he knew, but it was the easiest. It was probably *why* she said he
looked like a hotel 'dick'. Better than looking like a cop. "Uh... no,"
he said, trying to sound casual.

Jackie grinned and leaned in closer. "Don't be so *obvious*. You're going
to set the fire detectors off."

Victor glared at her, wondering what she knew, and what she was just
guessing.

But he did wonder. LiAnn looked so serious. Had she thought twice about
not competing with him for Mac? He was sure that Mac wouldn't change
*his* mind, but neither of them wanted to hurt LiAnn. After all, both of
them had planned to marry her, at different times.

* * * * *

Mac leaned against the counter, only half-listening to what LiAnn was
saying. His eyes were drawn to Vic's and when their gazes met, Mac felt
the temperature rise and his cock twitch. Now if only Jackie weren't
clinging to his lover...

One of these days he was going to have to hurt her, if she didn't stop
doing that.

He pulled his attention back to what LiAnn was saying when he realized
that she had asked him a question. Quickly replaying her conversation in
his head, he responded to her question about recurring dreams with a
story about one of those typical nightmares about being naked in public.
They laughed, but her next words hit him like a fist in the gut.

"Lately, I've been having dreams about Michael."

He felt his face go stiff. "Mi... Michael. Uh... Michael *Tang*?"

"No. Michael Jackson. Of course, Michael Tang. Our brother."

"Technically, he's not really our brother..." he protested weakly.

"We *were* family."

She started going on about how it was all her fault that Michael had
died. That it was her actions that were to blame for everything. Mac
tried to reassure her that it wasn't her fault, but inside he was
cringing.

Family. Family shouldn't do what Michael had done to him. Family
shouldn't rape. Abuse. He thought of telling her, but knew it wouldn't
work. Even though she had seen flashes of Michael's dark side, even
though she had left the family with him, she had always insisted on
believing the best of Michael. Because he was "family". She wouldn't
believe him. Vic was the only one who had *ever* believed him. Finally,
he broke in on her monologue of guilt.

"Look, that's the past. We have *new* lives now, and, y'know, we have to
get on with them. "And my life is with Vic, he thought, and I don't want
thoughts of Michael to poison it.

LiAnn shook her head. "It's just... whenever I have these recurring
dreams, they're like premonitions. Something in them always comes true."

Mac looked down at the counter-top. Out of the corner of his eye, he
could see Vic looking at him with a worried expression. His stomach
clenched, and he prayed that LiAnn was wrong this time.

Michael was dead, he told himself. He just wasn't sure if that was a fact
or a prayer.

* * * * *

Victor was standing against the wall, checking his camera to find out how
many shorts he'd taken, and how many were left on the roll of film. Mac
was standing next to him, almost close enough to touch, and the girls
were nowhere to be seen. Thank God.

"So... what were you and LiAnn talking about?" he asked, trying to be
nonchalant. The expression on Mac's face had worried the hell out of him.

"Dreams," was the blunt, non-informative answer, so he decided to make a
joke of it.

"You mean like the one where you're downtown in your underwear?"

"Shhh..." Mac said, starting to grin. "I'm downtown, I'm naked and it's
cold out."

"Ewww... I'm going to loose my lunch," Victor said, with a hot glance to
show that he didn't mean it.

Speaking of lunch, a delicious aroma suddenly filled the air. A young
oriental woman went by carrying take-out bags, and Victor was suddenly
*very* hungry. For food, too. Since he had gotten involved with Mac, he
had started to develope a taste for "proper" Chinese food.

But Mac was off and running, and he followed the young man, wondering
what had set him off. Mac amazed the girl by identifying what was in the
bags. Victor joked with the girl about Mac having the nose and face of a
bloodhound, but the expression on that face was making him nervous. The
next thing he knew, Mac was dragging him off to collect LiAnn and go back
to headquarters.

Once there, they had cornered the Director. Mac and LiAnn told her that
the Tangs were in town, by she didn't seem convinced. Not based just on a
food delivery and a dream. Fine.

"I'll convince you," Victor spoke up from behind the arguing trio. The
Director just looked at him. "I know them," he said, indicating his
partners. "And I know their hunches." Especially *Mac*'s hunches. "This
is their turf. They're right."

Surprisingly, this seemed to convince her. Mac went on to point out that
the Tang Godfather didn't *attend* these sorts of functions, he *held*
them. The Director ordered them to find out why.

Victor was heading for the exit, planning on going back to the hotel to
rejoin Jackie in watching the parade of criminals, but as soon as the
Director and LiAnn were both out of sight, Mac had Victor pinned up
against a handy wall, and was kissing him senseless.

"What was *that* for?" Victor gasped when Mac pulled away. "Not that I'm
complaining, mind you."

"For believing me. Us." Mac replied, then he was gone, heading for his
own car. Victor grinned, and headed off, a new bounce in his step.

"I always do."

* * * * *

Victor looked around the room, picking out the heads of some of the
biggest crime syndicates in the world. He still couldn't believe that
they had actually gotten *in*.

And it was all thanks to Jackie. Unfortunately, he *also* wanted to kill
her. First this guy had shown up, looking like Elvis Presley - the Las
Vegas version, that is. Jackie introduces the guy as 'The King', and old
Family friend. Fine and dandy, except that she then introduced Victor as
her *chiropractor*. Now this King fellow was expecting a rub-down. Victor
knew he gave a good massage - Mac had told him that often - but he didn't
want to *touch* this guy, let alone give him a massage. *And* he'd gotten
in even deeper when he made a comment about the man being a Presley fan.
Turned out the he was convinced that Presley had stolen *his* image.

But Jackie had calmed the man down, and given him a sob-story about
wanting to get her own crime family back in big. The King knew that the
Janczyk Family was down on their luck. What he didn't know was that
Jackie was no longer heading the family. The family was gone, and Jackie
now worked for the organization that had put them - and her - out of
business. Victor still thought that the Director was nuts for bringing in
Jackie. An eighteen-year-old valley-girl mob queen? Okay, so she no
longer acted *quite* as nuts as when they were on opposite side, but
still... Anyway, the King had immediately offered to bring the two of
them with him to the meeting so that Jackie could start to "network"
again.

Woops, the meeting was starting, and the oriental man was introducing...
Mr Tang. Mac had been right on the money. The Tangs had *called* this
meeting. Victor slouched down behind the King, sliding on his sunglasses
and praying that Mr Tang wouldn't see him. They had only seen each other
once, briefly, but this wasn't safe...

Mr Tang sat down in a chair at the center of the room, and started
speaking. "Thank you all for being here. As you know, the Tang Family has
conducted business with everyone here in varying capacities for a long
time. This association has been mutually... beneficial. But the time has
come for me to... step down."

The ripple of reaction raced through the room. Victor was equally
shocked. Mr Tang continued.

"Please, my mind is made up. Equally, my mind is made up that the Tang
Family should disengage from *all* criminal activity. Now, I have a plan
as to how our operations will be divided amongst you. You will pay us for
these assets on a long-term lease-to-own basis. You will find it more
than fair."

The King certainly seemed to like the deal. Looking at the papers handed
to them, most of the people in the room seemed to agree.

"Once these arrangements are concluded, the Tangs will only be involved
in legitimate business enterprises, and this new venture will be led by
my son... Michael Tang."

Victor froze as the young man walked into the room. Oh, God. What was he
going to tell Mac?

As Mr Tang hugged his son, and the room went from shocked silence to
applause, Jackie leaned forward. "I though he was dead," she whispered in
Victor's ear. He took a deep breath, then let it out.

"He was."

And he obviously wasn't the only person in the room horrified by the
events. He'd been watching the man who had introduced Mr Tang. He was
making a good show of joining in the applause, but Victor had seen the
anger at the announcement, and the shock at Michael's resurrection. In
fact, most of the people who had arrived with Mr Tang had looked upset
when he had announced that the Tangs were going legal.

Victor decided to keep an eye on the man. He was going to be trouble.

But God! Mac...

* * * * *

The Director sighed as the three agents left the room. That had gone
about as well as she had expected.

The time had finally come to confess. Confess that Michael's body *had*
never been recovered. Confess that a man meeting his description had been
seen at the Tang holdings in South Africa.

As for this business about the Tangs going straight, she didn't buy it.
There had to be an angle here. No matter what LiAnn and Mac said about
it having been "The Old Man"'s dream, she didn't believe that he was
*really* going to go legitimate. He was too firmly entrenched in the
criminal world to get out.

The reactions from her three favorite agents had been pretty much what
she'd expected. Victor had been furious that she had hid this from them.
From Mac.

LiAnn, despite her own teachings, seemed to be determined to believe that
Mr Tang was telling the truth. She considered LiAnn her protégé, but the
girl was so naïve in many ways. This might change her mind. The Director
shook her head. She knew that LiAnn was going to end up running to the
Family, and she would probably drag Mac with her. He certainly wouldn't
let her go alone. Hopefully they'd come out alive.

Mac... She could still see the shock, the horror. She had guessed about
what had gone on between him and Michael even before she had "recruited"
him. Listening to the surveillance tapes from when he had told Victor all
about it had just confirmed her suspicions. He was the main reason she
had never revealed what she knew about Michael's apparent death. The
Tangs wanting revenge kept him in line, but still functional. Knowing
that Michael was still alive would have made him useless. Already, she
could see him shutting down.

Mac had always been a favorite. He was so cocky, so confident... so
wounded. She had told herself that she was protecting him by keeping him
in the dark.

She just prayed that he would survive being thrown into the light.

* * * * *

Victor opened the door to his apartment, wondering if Mac would be there.
Well, if he wasn't, he'd just duck over to Mac's place. Then he'd call
LiAnn. Then he'd call the Director. Whatever it took, he wasn't going to
let Mac be alone tonight.

The apartment was dark, but he could hear noises coming from the bedroom.
Moving carefully, keeping his gun handy, just in case, he opened the
door.

Mac was huddled in a fetal ball on the bed, still dressed. The muffled
sounds he had heard was Mac sobbing. Victor set his gun on top of the
dresser, then toed off his shoes before climbing onto the bed and pulling
Mac into his arms. He started rocking back and forth, making soothing
sounds. Finally, the sobs slowed down.

"Tell me?" he prompted in a quiet voice.

"Father is dead," came the choked reply

For a moment, Victor went blank. As far as he knew, Mac hadn't heard from
his dad since the incident with that spay that was doing illegal organ
transplants, using unwilling donors. Then he realized that Mac meant
Mr Tang. The Tang Godfather was dead. Suddenly, he flashed back to see
the anger on the face of the man who'd been at the meeting with the
Godfather.

"How?"

Mac rubbed his eyes, sitting up, but Victor kept his arms around the man.
Normally, Mac was so self-assured that Victor sometimes forgot that the
young man was almost ten years his junior, but right now he seemed even
younger than his actual age.
 

"LiAnn wanted to go see Michael and the old man. She's so sure that they
*are* trying to take the Family legit. She says that the old man is doing
it so that she doesn't have to risk losing Michael again. Maybe she's
right. But I couldn't let her go alone. I *couldn't*!"

"Sh..." Victor soothed. "I know, I know."

"They were just leaving the hotel. Michael got into the limo. Father
stopped. He saw us. We were going towards him when the other car pulled
up. They started shooting. We shot back. Michael shot back. The ones we
didn't kill drove away. But it was too late. Father said something about
'forgiveness' and 'family', then he *died*!"

The tears were starting again, and Victor felt helpless. No matter what
had happened in the past, Mac's feeling about Mr Tang still verged on
hero-worship. He kept rocking the young man, stroking his hair and back.

"I never had the chance to ask him."

"Ask what?"

"Whether he knew about what Michael was doing to me. Did he know, and not
care? Or did Michael have he fooled, like he did everyone else..."

Victor could understand what Mac was feeling. He needed closure, and it
had been stolen from him.

"It's going to be all right, Mac," was all he could say. "Maybe not
today, or tomorrow, but someday..."

The tears were fading again, and Mac clung to him. He brushed his lips
against the creased forehead.

"What do you need, Mac. Tell me."

"Hold me. Love me?"

"You know I do. Sh... Let me show you."

Gently, he pressed Mac back down on the mattress. He pulled away long
enough to strip his clothes off. Then he undressed Mac.

"Shhh... I'm right here, and I'm never leaving you."

Slowly, he started pressing gentle kisses all over Mac's face. Fingers
stroked the young man's sides. He feathered the touches all over the
furred chest, careful to never startle, never cause a flinch. When his
hands reached down to Mac's genitals, he found them only half-hard. He
coaxed them to full size.

When Mac's cock was lifting up to full glory, Mac started to kiss him
back. The long legs spread apart, and the hips canted upwards in
invitation. Victor pulled away so that he could look Mac in the face.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Please," was the whispered reply. "Love me. Chase the nightmares away."

Victor reached for the container of lubricant on the bedside table.
Coating his fingers, he took his time in stretching Mac. There would be
*no* pain - *no* discomfort even - tonight. Tonight was not the time to
risk awakening bad memories. Once he was certain that Mac was as relaxed
as he could be, he spread a thick coating of lubricant on his own cock.

Mac wrapped his legs around Victor's waist, as he slowly pressed in. The
preparations had been done well, and there wasn't even a flicker of pain
on Mac's face. When Victor felt himself hit bottom, they both sighed.

A slow glide, in and out. A long climb to orgasm. They came, close
together, and clung to each other. There were still tears on Mac's face,
and Victor could feel that his own was wet, as well. Once he had
softened, he pulled out, and used some Kleenex to make a sketchy
cleaning. Then he pulled Mac into his arms.

"Sleep now. I'm right here. I'll keep the nightmares away."

Mac made a snuffling sound, then snuggled up against Victor's chest. Soon
his breathing had slowed until he was asleep. Victor lay awake for a
while, though. Staring at the ceiling, wondering how he was going to
protect his love from the inevitable pain that was coming.

Michael. This could only be trouble.

* * * * *

LiAnn watched the Director walk away. She still couldn't believe it.
First the woman had seemed honestly sorry about their Father's death. She
had even complimented him for how he'd raised and trained her and Mac.
Then she'd put them on leave, telling them to do whatever they wanted.
She even suggested that they go looking for revenge.

Victor and Jackie were already gone. The Director had told them to stick
close to someone called the King, by any means necessary. Victor had just
looked ill at that. He'd expressed his own sympathies, then the two of
them were gone.

LiAnn turned to Mac. "We have to see Michael."

Mac flinched. She had never understood the hostility between her two
'brothers'. Sure, they were rivals in a lot of ways, but it seemed to her
that there was more to it.

But there wasn't time now. They needed to get moving. Planning. There
would be time to figure it out later.

* * * * *

Mac paced around the bar. Idly, he wondered if maybe the Agency owned
the place, since most of its clients seemed to work for the Agency in one
way or another...

Ah, hell. He was just trying to distract himself with this speculation.
LiAnn had called the hotel and left a message for Michael to meet them
there. Hopefully he wouldn't show.

"So this is where you hang out."

Nope. No such luck.

"You like it?" Geez, Mac thought to himself. Did she have to so sound
eager for approval?

"I wouldn't have left the Family for it."

Michael's hand went inside his jacket, and Mac reacted immediately, going
for his own gun. He was relieved to note that LiAnn went for hers just as
fast. Mac wondered why Michael didn't look a little more nervous with two
guns pointed in his face. When a second man came out, armed, behind them,
Mac had his answer.

"Who are you?" Mac asked.

"His conscience," was the reply. Mac gave a laugh, inside. Michael had
never *wanted* a conscience. Nice suit, though. But the eyes were cold,
and the face, expressionless.

"We should put the guns down if we're going to talk," Michael said.

"I don't think so," was the immediate response from LiAnn. Mac didn't
take his eyes off of Mr Conscience.

"You remember what happened last time," Mac pointed out.

"It didn't have to be like that. I could have let you stay together,
inside the Family." Mac had to fight back a bitter laugh. And there was a
nice bridge for sale in Brooklyn. "You didn't leave us. I drove you out."
How true. "But I did it for love." You don't know what love is. "I was
wrong. I apologize." Riiight. "I renounce it."

Michael surprised him by tossing his gun away, then ordering his...
friend to put his own away. Mr Conscience just holstered his. Seemed that
he drew the line at throwing his own weapon away. Mac and LiAnn put their
own guns away. Michael pointed out that they needed to talk fast. LiAnn
asked about the other guy.

"Paul can hear anything," Michael replied. "He's in charge of keeping me
alive. He's my brother."

*That* got Mac to take his eyes off of the man. "I thought I was your
brother." And we both know *how* you treat your brothers.

"You were. It didn't work out," was the cold reply. "I'm sorry about it."

I'm not.

Mac only listened with half his attention as Michael spun his sob story
about being thought dead, reinventing himself on the side of the angels.
He went on about how the Family should be legit. Mac finally couldn't
listen anymore.

"I'm outta here," he said, heading for the door.

"Oh, so you're reborn on the side of good, but you won't allow me the
same?"

Mac stopped and turned around, angry. "I don't allow you anything. You
know why? Because you are what you are, and you are what you always were.
Evil. So we're going to leave now. You going to try to stop us?"

"No. We're going to ask you to stay."

"Ask us to stay?" Mac said with a laugh. "Here's a little safety tip for
you. Whatever you've planned, forget it. You try anything and I'll kill
you."

Mac turned and left. He was a little surprised when LiAnn came with him.

* * * * *

Victor had decided that hell was being in a hotel room with the King. The
man was popping pills, drinking booze, eating the most disgusting foods
and going on about partying. The Godfather's death had apparently made
him decide that he was going to enjoy himself tonight, because who knew
when he might die. He amused himself by demonstrating some lousy karate,
and shot at his own bodyguard.

The one thing that scared Victor was the fact that the King kept going on
about his rub-down. He said he wanted the three of them to go into the
bedroom for it, and Victor had a nasty suspicion that the man was
thinking of *more* than just a massage, and while he had no objections to
the *concept* of a threesome...

He would kill the man first.

* * * * *

The Director waited for Mac and LiAnn, wondering for the first time in a
*long* time if he was making a mistake. Michael Tang was standing beside
her, and she'd just finished negotiating for his help in a... personal
matter. In return, he wanted only one thing.

Mac and LiAnn.

When they entered, she could see the shock on their faces. The confusion
in LiAnn's eyes, the betrayal in Mac's. And she was going to convince
them to go back to the Family.

She told them about the gang warfare that was ripping the Tangs apart.
She told them that she believed Michael when he said he was going to
purge the violence from the Family, taking the Tangs legit. The same
story that she had refused to believe from his father.

"We left the Tangs, but the Tangs haven't left us."

LiAnn understood. Unfortunately, LiAnn also *wanted* to believe Michael,
and that sentimentality was dangerous. Mac *refused* to believe, and that
hostility was also dangerous.

So, she held out the carrot of helping to change the family that raised
them. LiAnn took the carrot, and she knew that Mac would follow to
protect his 'sister'.

She left them in the room together. Sometimes she almost hated herself.

* * * * *

Jackie passed the Director as she entered the bar. The older woman was
leaving with a grim look on her face. Over at the bar counter, she could
see Mac and Victor talking. They both looked so damn serious. She was
surprised that Vic wasn't jumping for joy. After all, King had keeled
over dead, saving him the trouble of killing the man to keep from having
to give him a rub-down. She saw LiAnn sitting at a table, over in the
corner, and went to join her.

"So... Like, what happened? It's like a funeral in here."

LiAnn swirled her drink in the glass, not looking up. "The Director asked
us to help Michael get back control of the Family."

"Did you?"

"Yes. His plan was for me to go to the people who killed Father, and
offer to turn Mac and Michael over to them, to get back in the Family.
Michael said that by putting *both* of them in equal danger, it would
prove he was sincere. The meeting was set up for a restaurant. No one
expected them to open fire." Jackie winced at the thought of a gun battle
in a restaurant during dinner.

LiAnn sighed, and took a gulp of her drink. "They shot, we shot, we were
left standing." She finally turned to face Jackie. Her eyes were
practically glowing in the dim light of the bar. "Michael came through
for us. He saved Mac's life. He's really going to take the Family legal."

Jackie eyed her, dubiously. "Would you go back to Hong Kong if he asked
you?"

"I... don't know."

Jackie started putting two and two together. "You're tempted, aren't you.
Not just because it's the Family, either. Three guys have been in love
with you, and you lost them all. Michael died. You pushed Mac and Victor
away, and now they have each other. But suddenly Michael is back, not
dead anymore, and maybe you've been given another chance."

LiAnn's face went blank. "I... hadn't thought of it that way."

"Maybe you should."

* * * * *

"I know I'm right about Michael." Mac's hand still itched from shaking
Michael's hand. It was the first time that he had *willingly* touched the
other man in years. In his mind's eye, he could still see the restaurant,
the bodies, feel the gun pressed into his back as he lay on the floor. He
could also still see LiAnn going into the man's arms, and his stomach
clenched.

"He saved your life," Vic pointed out.

"I know that. I just... I have this feeling."

"Listen, man. Letting go is not always easy. Saying you're wrong,
forgiving. It doesn't come naturally for some of us. Believe me, I know."

"I just have this feeling."

Mac turned suddenly. "Do you *really* think Michael has changed?"

"I don't know, but nearly dying can make you take a long look at your
life."

"I was just thinking. What about Kevin Chang." Vic frowned.

"He died more than a month ago. What about him?"

"You remember what we said? How someone with a lot of power in Hong Kong
would have been needed to get him out of prison?" He could see the light
start to dawn.

"Powerful. Like the Tangs."

"And how did he find me in Toronto?"

"The Tangs knew you were here."

"Exactly." He could see the wheels turning in Vic's head, the protective
instincts kicking in. He drained his glass, and pushed away from the bar.
He didn't want to think about it anymore that night. "C'mon, Vic. I want
to go home."

"Home," Vic agreed, and they left the bar.

* * * * *

"It was strange being a part of that family again. Being part of the
team. LiAnn believed me, but Mac..." Michael laughed, stalking across the
room. "I saved his *life*... and I don't think he even believes me now."

"He will," Paul said, looking at him, then repeated himself in Cantonese.

"I hope you're right. I need them to believe in me, before I can do what
I have to do." He stopped in front of his bodyguard, his brother, and
reached up to stroke the cheek. "Do *you* believe in me?"

The other man twisted his head to kiss the hand that cupped his cheek.
"Always, Michael."

Michael pulled the man's face down and kissed him. At the last moment, he
bit down. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, exciting him. He
reached to rip open the shirt, not caring that his fingernails caught on
the skin beneath, leaving red tracks in the skin. Roughly, he pushed the
man towards the bed, stopping to admire the swollen lip, blood still
oozing from the bite marks. He licked the beads away, then stood back.

He stripped quickly, and waited impatiently while Paul did the same. He
wasn't in the mood to wait. Not tonight. Legs over the shoulders, and
straight in. It was tough going at first, but practice loosened him up,
and blood quickly lubricated the way.

Paul's erection made him smile. This 'brother' had proven so much more...
trainable than his last one. Finding someone who was a masochist had
obviously been the right way to go.

Suddenly, instead of Paul's bearded face he could see Mac under him,
writhing and sobbing. The image made him grin, and he shot deep inside
the flesh that surrounded him. Then Mac's face was gone, and Paul's
orgasm grabbed him hard.

He pulled out, and went to the washroom to wash his cock off. Mac had
been his before, and would be again. For a while, at least.

* * * * *

Mac threw himself to the side, dodging the bullet racing towards him, and
hit the floor with a gasp. He realized that he was naked, tangled in the
bed-spread,

"Mac, are you all right?" Vic's worried face peered at him from over the
edge of the bed.

"I... yeah... Just a nightmare." I think.

He pulled himself back up onto the bed, and was immediately wrapped in
Vic's arms. Lips pressed to his forehead, then below the ear. "Tell me
about it?"

"Michael." Mac rolled over to face Vic. "I can't really describe it, but
it was me against him. At the end, he said 'no doubt you are a competent
warrior, but people believe in me. I win, because I'm the master of
appearances.' Then he shot at me."

"Master of appearances, huh? Well, he's not going to win *this* time."

Mac cuddled up against Vic's side. "I wish I could believe that," he
said.

* * * * *

The Director stalked down the stairs and waved a hand at the screen on
the wall. "Behold the face of evil," she said, then turned.

Dobrinsky. She sighed. "That's what I get for trying to make an entrance.
Next!" The image was replaced with one of a man in his thirties, with
short brown hair and cold eyes.

"This is Gerald Pouchie."

"What kind of name is Pouchie?" Victor had to ask.

"It's an old Huguenot name, I believe."

"What's a Huguenot?"

Education, these days, was obviously sorely deficient. "A French
Protestant."

Mac immediately piped up, as if on cue. "Uh... what's a Protestant?"

"All right, that's enough. This is serious." Very serious. Pouchie was
one of the world's top assassins, and he was in town, and he was trouble.
He'd already killed at least once since arriving, she explained.

"Locate him and stop him," she ordered. "Kill him, if necessary. In
fact... kill him anyway."

"Uh... that's illegal," LiAnn protested.

"I'll overlook it. He seems to have been at work last night. Dobrinsky
has the details."

She turned and headed back up the stairs. Hopefully, they would stop
Pouchie without getting themselves hurt. Stop him before... well, before
it was too late. In the meanwhile, she had some plans of her own.

* * * * *

Victor left the apartment of Elizabeth Douglas, widow and now deceased,
with Mac. Mac and LiAnn had disappeared to meet with Michael before
coming to the scene.

The woman was dead at her desk, with all the ear-marks of a Pouchie hit.
The right kind of gun was used, and the wrapper from Pouchie's favorite
brand of candy had been left at the scene. But why her? And why was the
Director so intent on stopping this one assassin? But, right now he was
more interested in another question, though.

"So... How'd it go with Michael?"

Mac snorted. "First he tried to impress us with how well the Family is
doing in legitimate business ventures. Then he told us he had changed
from when we knew him before. Finally, he offered us money for our time
in the Family, our services. It felt *so* good to refuse it. He cried
some crocodile tears, but didn't try to convince us to take it."

"How did LiAnn react to all this?"

Mac sighed. "I just don't understand why she's so willing to believe him.
She *says* I'm biased by bad memories. She doesn't *know* how bad those
memories are. She thinks that the offer of money proves he's changed,
cause he never would have offered before."

Victor rubbed his face. "This could get nasty. What is Michael up to?
Maybe... maybe you should tell her why..."

"No. She wouldn't believe me. She'd say I was making it up to change her
mind. She would. She thinks I'm being irrational about him." Mac looked
away from Victor for a moment, and when he turned back, his eyes were
bleak. "Sometimes, I wonder if she's right, Maybe Michael *has* changed.
But most of the time, I *know* I'm right, and I'm scared that she's going
to fall into his arms, into whatever trap he's planned. I... I just don't
know what to do."

Victor pulled Mac into a hug. "We'll figure something out. Don't worry."

* * * * *

Mac stared at the papers in front of him, trying to distract himself with
work. Lazlo duPont. Former first violinist at the Toronto Symphony. Then
concert master. Then homeless nutcase. Now Pouchie victim number two.
Why?

What was Pouchie up to? And what was the Director up to? Victor had
already talked to Murphy and Camier, the Cleaners. According to them,
there was a connection between the Director and Pouchie, but even *they*
didn't know what it was.

Ah, well. There was no time to speculate. Maybe if they could figure out
what Pouchie was up to - "whacking a widow, then whacking a whacko" as
the Director had put it - they would be able to stop him. Then they'd get
their answers. He wasn't really sure that he *wanted* to know, though.

* * * * *

The Director wandered through the Christmas tree lot, idly looking
around. The night air was crisp. She could feel the hairs on the back of
her neck prickle, though. It was Pouchie. She was sure of it. If she
could lure him out, get him to make an attempt, maybe she could end this
now. She knew he was coming for her. Sooner or later.

She looked across the street and tensed when she saw the figure next to
her limo. No. Just a cop giving her a ticket. Damnit, maybe she was
wasting her time.

Then again, maybe not. The first bullet nearly hit her. She dove for
cover, pulling her own gun, but it was too late. A car was already taking
off.

She'd missed her chance.

* * * * *

Mac arrived at the Agency, the next day, at the same time as Vic and
LiAnn.

"Well," he said, conversationally. "Lazlo's friend is as nuts as he was.
All she could tell me was that the concert master before Lazlo committed
suicide. You?"

Vic grimaced. "I talked to the Director. All I got were hints that
whatever their connection was, it was... personal. She warned me about
getting involved in her *personal* affairs. She's starting to worry me."

"I went to see Michael."

Mac and Vic turned towards her. Mac was horrified.

"He wants me to help him convince you to trust him," she said, not
looking him in the eye.

"Are you going to?"

"I... was tempted. But as I was leaving, I found one of Pouchie's candy
wrappers on the floor. He says that the Director asked him to hire
Pouchie."

Mac turned towards her as they went into the briefing room. "No way that
the Director asked Michael to hire Pouchie. It's just another of
Michael's lies."

"No, it's another one of the Director's lies," LiAnn shot back.

Mac turned towards the table, and flinched when he saw Michael standing
next to the Director. Even worse, she confirmed his story. He *knew* it
was a trick of Michael's. He was using her, even more that she was using
him, using the Tang name to get to Pouchie.

It was almost a relief when Michael invited a fight. Michael actually
seemed to believe that even Victor would trust him, the way LiAnn did.
That Mac was the only one who didn't.

"You guys..." LiAnn started to say, but Vic cut her off.

"Noooo... don't be hasty. This could be interesting." He gave Mac a grin,
as he walked past, as if to say 'kick his ass'.

Kick his ass, he did. The only thing that would have been *more*
satisfying would be if Michael had fought back. But no. He was trying to
prove he wasn't hair-trigger violent anymore. He let Mac do whatever he
wanted.

But it felt so goood...

But the phone rang, interrupting them. Pouchie had struck again. Ennio
Marcogliese, mobster. The Director ordered Vic to go to the funeral,
since Pouchie often took photographs for his collection. LiAnn, she sent
to the archives to try to track down the connection between the victims.

"What about me?" Mac asked as she moved to help Michael up off of the
floor.

"You need time to think," she said, angrily, then left.

* * * * *

Victor sighed as he headed for the archive. The funeral had turned out to
be a bust. Jackie had shown up, representing the Janczyk Family. Turned
out that the Marcogliese Family were...friends. Now she was tagging
along, all eager to help find Pouchie.

"So," he said to LiAnn as they entered the Archives computer room. "Apart
from the fact that they were all murdered by Pouchie, how do a mobster, a
widow and a street guy connect?" LiAnn shrugged. "This is not good."

"In fact, it's bad," Jackie added, sitting down.

"Well, maybe the only thing these three *did* have in common was
Pouchie," LiAnn said. Victor and Jackie looked at her.

"Isn't that a little *too* obvious?" Jackie asked.

"Well, *too* obvious is all we have at the moment," LiAnn shot back in a
mild voice.

"You know Marcogliese, right?" Victor said to Jackie. LiAnn's hunches
were often good. "Can you think of any reason he might be tied to
Pouchie?"

"Well, you know... There was a hit on his brother Carlo, years ago,"
Jackie said thoughtfully. "Everyone just assumed that Ennio hired within
the ranks."

"All right, there's something," LiAnn said, then started pulling up the
files on the other two victims.

Elizabeth Douglas had two dead husbands. One died in an obvious accident.
The other was shot and killed in an apparent robbery attempt. The gun
used was the same that Pouchie used.

Lazlo duPoint became concert master after his predecessor committed
suicide. Same type of gun.

It was obvious. Pouchie was killing off his former employers. It was the
only thing that made sense. Maybe he was retiring, and wanted to clean
the books. But why was the Director...

"Because I once hired Gerald Pouchie," was the answer from the doorway,
making them all jump. "There. Happy?" Then she was gone again.

* * * * *

"So she's trying to get him before he gets her," Victor said, slumping on
the sofa.

"Only thing is, her methods are likely to get her killed. I went to talk
to her, and she was on the phone with Michael. She *told* him to hire
Pouchie to *kill* her. I told her she was making a mistake, trusting
Michael. She says I can't see clearly, cause I've got a lot of baggage
where Michael is concerned. Doesn't she understand? I know Michael! And
she's so blinded by Pouchie that *she's* not seeing clearly, but she
refuses to see that." Mac grimaced.

Victor sighed. Obviously, Mac's stomach was giving him trouble again.
Neither one of them wanted to eat, but they needed to relax, to get some
sleep. He went to the kitchen and made up a couple mugs of chamomile tea,
sweetened with honey.

"Here," he said, handing one of the mugs to Mac, as they climbed into
bed. "Drink this and get some sleep. Somehow, I think this will all be
over tomorrow night."

"Then what?" Mac said, already getting drowsy from the hot, sweet liquid.
"I don't think I can handle this anymore. I want out. I want a life. I
want... a lot of things."

"So do I, Mac. So do I."

Mac frowned, then turned to look at him. "Do you think Michael *could*
have changed?"

Victor thought about it for a moment. He wasn't going to lie to Mac. "I
think he has changed. The Michael you've told me about wouldn't have let
you beat him up. He would have hit first." He put his empty mug on the
bedside table and wrapped himself around Mac. "Do I think he's gone
straight? Maybe. Do I think that his basic attitudes towards you, and
other people he uses, has changed? I doubt it. People don't change that
much, that fast. But... I don't know. It would be nice if it were true."

* * * * *

All three of them showed up, the next day, and parked themselves in the
Director's office to wait. She glared at them, but they refused to react.

When Michael finally arrived, late in the evening, it was short and to
the point. The Viceroy Soy Mill. Eleven p.m. He would get there early and
pay Pouchie. Then she would show up. Michael left to go to the meet. They
suggested setting up a trap, but she refused to consider it. She was
atoning. Seemed that she had hired Pouchie to work for the Agency, years
ago. She trained him, molded him, and then he had gone independant for
the money.

Pouchie didn't kill the guilty. He killed anyone he was paid to,
including innocents who just got in the way of the wrong people. That,
the Director blamed herself for. So, she was going, and she was going
alone. She ordered them to wait for her there. Then she was gone.

Vic looked at them. "Okay, so we give her... what? A two-minute head
start?"

"One," LiAnn piped up.

"Hell, let's go now," Mac said.

"Okay." They rushed after her.

* * * * *

The Director entered the Mill, leaving Michael outside. This was it. She
could hear whistling, and there was a candy wrapper on the ground.

"Pouchie," she called out. "I'm here."

No answer.

"Hey, I don't mind being murdered, but I hate being kept waiting. C'mon!
I want to see you. I want you to look me in the eye. You're not going to
shoot me in the back," she taunted, moving through the dark and empty
space. "You haven't declined that much, have you?"

A man stepped out, too far away to see more than a silhouette. At last.
She needed to finish this, fast. She knew her three agents would disobey
her orders to stay away. She wanted to end this before they got there.

"Good. At least we can settle this thing properly," she said as the man
walked forward. "Okay?"

She handed towards him, waiting for him to go for his gun, when he
stepped into a patch of moonlight. It wasn't Pouchie!

She dove for cover, as gunfire from several angles.

* * * * *

Mac eyed Michael, as they got out of the car. He was tempted to just kill
the bastard, and be done with it, but not while the Director was in
trouble. Vic and LiAnn headed for the south entrance, telling him to
wait, then go in. They'd sandwich Pouchie between them.

The sound of a gun safety being release made him spin to see Michael,
armed.

"I'm going with you," Michael said, an earnest look on his face.

"Why?"

"Because we're family."

Fine, Mac thought. I can keep a better eye on you this way.

* * * * *

"I can't believe you brought shooters, Pouchie," the Director shouted.
"I don't know whether to be flattered or disappointed."

"You want me?" came the reply. It sounded like he was higher up than her.
"Come and get me!"

"Oh, I will," she snarled. In the background, she could hear shooting.
Obviously, her threesome had arrived.

"Sounds like you brought your own shooters!"

"Let's settle this thing," she muttered to herself, then threw herself
from her cover onto a handy flat trolley. Sliding across the room, on it,
she shot, taking out several more men. She doubted, though, that any of
them were Pouchie.

She rolled off the trolley, and was heading for more cover, when a bullet
ripped through her arm. Coming to rest behind a pillar, she gasped. Just
a flesh wound, though, but she felt faint. She heard more shots, and she
saw Mac and Michael. Pouchie... Pouchie was dead, on the ground. Victor
and LiAnn rushed to her side.

"You all right?" Victor asked, quickly checking her over.

"Ahhhh... It's the end of this coat," she said, trying to make a joke of
it. Victor ignored it.

"She's been hit. Let's get her out of here. C'mon."

Victor swung her up into his arms and started for the door. Shots were
fired behind them, and she gasped when he stopped and swung around. Mac
had his gun aimed at Michael. Michael was aiming at a new body, on the
ground behind Mac.

"It's all right," Mac said, lowering his gun. Victor was reluctant, but
Mac nodded to him, so he headed through the door, then gently lowered her
to the ground beside her car.

* * * * *

Inside, Mac eyed Michael, but saw no signs of deception. Could he really
have been so wrong? If so... he would make it up.

"Sorry. All right? I'm sorry I didn't believe you'd changed. Sorry for...
everything." It was hard to say the words.

"That's okay," Michael said, breaking into a sunny smile. "Took me long
enough to convince you, though."

Mac shrugged. "It was a tough sell." And you know why.

"I know. But it was very important that you believe me. That you trust me
again."

"I... do."

"That's great." Michael held out his hand, and Mac reached out to grasp
it.

"Now you'll know..."

A fist lashed out, and Mac saw stars as he went down.

"Now you'll know what it feels like to be betrayed," Michael snarled, his
expression changing completely. Now there was hate and lust and violence
and a hundred other dark emotions.

"That's great," Mac said, rubbing his jaw. This was what he got for
lowering his guard, even for a moment. "First you lie to me, then you
kill me." It was obviously what he planned.

"Killing you is going to be my last criminal act. I win, Mac."

"You kill me and you're dead. You're not going to get past LiAnn and Vic."

"Well, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make," Michael said, and Mac
could see the insane light in his eyes. "But I don't have to. You see,
Pouchie was worried about taking out your Director, so he had backup.
This building is wired to blow in... about two minutes. That should give
you enough time to really *feel* what betrayal is."

He lifted his gun and fired at the ceiling, dropping a light fixture onto
Mac, slamming him into the ground. Barely conscious, he felt Michael
stroke his face. "I had other plans for you, but this is... poetic
justice." Mac felt lips press against his, in a parody of a kiss.

"Good-bye, Mac."

* * * * *

Outside, Victor stood next to the Director. They'd won! He was elated,
until LiAnn pointed out that Mac and Michael weren't behind them anymore.

"Michael..." Victor felt his stomach drop. Oh, God. Mac! "I'll get Mac,"
he called, drawing his gun as he rushed back inside.

"Victor," the Director called, pulling him up short. "Pouchie sometimes
used a bomb as backup."

"Then I better hurry," he said, grimly, then went through the door.

* * * * *

LiAnn watched Victor disappear. How could she have been so wrong? Was
Jackie right? Had her fear of being alone blinded her?

A car screeched in the background, and she ran out into the open. It was
Michael. As the car turned towards her, she flashed back to the last time
they'd been in this position, when he'd driven into the harbor to avoid
hitting her. Somehow, she *knew* he wouldn't hesitate this time.

She emptied her gun, then turned and ran for the Mill. Behind her, she
heard the car crash and explode. She didn't look back.

* * * * *

Mac was coming back to his senses, when he saw Vic pulling the light
fixture off of him.

"Mac. Mac! C'mon. Get up!"

"There's a bomb in here, Vic. Get out!" Please leave. Please live.

"Like I'm suddenly going to start listening to you?"

"How much time do we have?" Oh, no. Not LiAnn too!

"Uh, by my watch.. like.. none."

"Get up, get up!" Vic said pulling him upright and towards the door,
LiAnn right in front of them. "Run! Run!"

They ran. They were too late.

* * * * *

The Director stared at the door, praying for the first time in years.
Praying to see her three agents coming through the door. Praying that
there was enough time.

The building exploded.

"There's never enough time," she gasped, and felt the first tears start
to fall.
 

----------------------------------------
Back At The Beginning
by Lianne Burwell
June 1998
----------------------------------------

The Director wandered around the outside of the burning building,
searching. She couldn't get too close, and the bullet wound in her arm
was causing her a great deal of pain, but she kept searching.

She refused to believe that her three agents were dead. They were
disrespectful, went behind her back, disobeyed her orders, and she was
*very* fond of them. And despite their failings, they usually got the job
done, albeit with heavy amounts of gunfire and destruction.

Over to the side, she could see the burning remains of Michael's car.
Michael Tang. She still couldn't believe she'd let him use her this way.
Mac's distrust, she'd chalked up to the past, and suggested he get over
it. She should have known better. Even though a pretty face might
distract the man for a while, Mac was a good judge of character. And he
had been right. She had been so intent on Pouchie, she ignored all the
warning signs.

It had all been for show. What he'd really been after was revenge on his
former partners, revenge for their "betrayal". In the end, that revenge
had cost him his life.

But he had still gotten his revenge. Victor and LiAnn had rushed back
into the building to find Mac, even though they knew that the place had
probably been rigged to explode by the assassin she'd killed. She'd held
her breath, praying to see them at the door, but the bomb had gone off,
and her hopes had died.

A car screeched to a halt behind her, but she ignored it. It wasn't until
she was being shaken by the blonde girl that she realized that her newest
agent, Jackie, had arrived on the scene.

"What happened? Where are they?"

The Director pointed at the building's remains. She could hear the sound
of sirens in the distance. "In there. Michael left Mac in the building.
Victor and LiAnn went after him. The building exploded."

"And Michael?" Jackie was almost snarling.

"Dead. LiAnn shot him, the car blew up."

They had come around to the side of the building. The first firetrucks
had roared into the parking lot, followed quickly by the police. The
Director knew she was going to have to come up with a pretty damn good
story to explain what had happened.

"Um... Did you hear that?"

The Director looked up. Jackie had a puzzled look on her face, and she
cocked her head to the side.

"Yeah... Over there..."

There was a pile of crates near the edge of the inferno. The top crates
were already on fire. Then she heard it too. A groan. Wood moving against
wood as it was shifted.

Quickly, they were tossing aside crates, ignoring the heat of the flames
that continued to come closer. A fireman in full gear tried to get them
to move away, but they refused. More hands helped shift boxes until...

It was LiAnn. She was battered and bloodied and barely conscious. The
hair on one side of her head was gone, leaving burns in its place. She
obviously had many broken bones.

There were firemen with hoses, holding off the flames while paramedics
came to load her on a bodyboard, as fast as was safe. Then she was being
loaded into an ambulance for the journey to the hospital.

Of Victor and Mac, there was no sign.

* * * * *

Jackie had pulled the Director into her car, and followed the ambulance
to the hospital. Once there, they were pointed to the waiting room.

Some time later, neither woman sure *how* long, a doctor came to speak to
them.

"Miss Tsei is in the operating room. The explosion that caused her
injuries has left her with third degree burns, multiple broken bones and
some internal bleeding. She's a strong woman, though, and there should be
no obstacles to a full recovery. However, I do suggest the two of you go
home. She won't be able to have visitors until tomorrow evening at the
earliest."

The Director nodded.

"Like, did she say anything before going under?" Jackie asked. "She was
with two guys when the place blew up, and nobody's found them yet. She
might know if they got out."

"Sorry, Miss. According to the paramedics, she was unconscious before
they even loaded her in the ambulance. She hasn't woken up since. You'll
have to wait a day or two to ask her."

"'Kay."

Jackie steered the Director towards the exit and her car. While they'd
been waiting, a doctor had patched up the older woman. Luckily, the
bullet had passed through cleanly. A couple stitches, a bandage and a
painkiller and she'd been ready to go.

Jackie planned to drive the Director home, then realized she had no idea
where the woman lived. She glanced over at her passenger, and found her
asleep. Fine. She'd take the woman to *her* place, and then call
Dobrinsky to let him know where she was. Besides, it didn't seem like
leaving the woman alone was a good idea.

Jackie found it easy enough to maneuver the woman out of the car, and
into the apartment. With the events of the evening and the painkillers,
the woman was in a daze. Jackie knew that she had almost ignored other
agent deaths in the past, taking it more as a personal affront, but this
was different. No matter how much she might hide it, it was obvious that
she had a soft spot for this threesome, and she blamed herself for their
deaths.

In the apartment, she stripped her boss and put her to bed. Then she
called Dobrinsky to report. There'd been no sign of Vic or Mac, he told
her. She promised to take good care of the Director, then hung up.

In the bedroom, the Director was lying on her uninjured side with her
eyes closed, but there was the faintest trace of tears running down her
face. Jackie pulled off her own clothes and climbed into the bed. She
spooned up behind the other woman, and wrapped her arms around her,
careful not to jar the injured areas, and started rocking, ever so
slightly.

She kept rocking, pretending not to hear the sounds of tears, pretending
she wasn't crying herself, until the other woman was asleep. Then she
buried her face in the auburn hair and went to sleep.

* * * * *

The next morning, they were back at the hospital. The Director was alert,
and spent most of her time on the phone with Dobrinsky. Michael's
bodyguard had been tracked down. He verified that Michael *had* been
moving to make the Tangs legit, but that he had planned from the start to
kill Mac and LiAnn. Angry at their "betrayal", he had worked to make them
trust him, believe in him, so that when he killed them, they would feel
as betrayed as he had. The man scared the agent sent to question him. He
was so cold, and so angry at Michael's death... She wondered what his
relationship really *was* with Michael.

She was tempted to destroy what was left of the Tangs anyway, but decided
not to. No matter what had happened, Mac and LiAnn had still felt...
beholden to that family, and would not have wanted it. She ordered the
man shipped back to Hong Kong, along with anyone else from the family,
with a warning that if they ever showed their faces on the North American
continent again, she *would* destroy them. Cheerfully. With great
violence.

The news from the bomb site was less promising. No sign had been found of
either of the men, but the fires had burned so hot that the chances of
finding any traces of them, if they had still been inside the building,
were nil.

So they waited, and paced, outside of LiAnn's hospital room. The young
woman had survived surgery. The bleeding had been stopped, the bones had
been set, the burns had been treated. She was going to be a long time
recovering, but she *would* recover.

It was late in the afternoon before the Director was finally allowed to
see her agent. LiAnn was still unconscious, hooked to monitors, and
covered with bandages. She hunted, and finally found an undamaged patch
of skin to stroke.

"Shhh," she crooned as LiAnn's eyelids twitched. "Sleep. It's all right.
You're going to be just fine." LiAnn sighed, then slipped into a deeper
sleep. The Director stayed there for a few moments, watching her breathe.
Then she headed for the door.

* * * * *

Outside, in the hallway, she found Jackie and Dobrinsky talking.
Dobrinsky's expression was unreadable.

"Well," she asked. "Anything new?"

"Maybe," he said, hesitance in his voice. "On a... hunch... I checked the
guys' getaway funds."

"Getaway funds?" Jackie asked in confusion.

The Director explained. "Both the boys kept rather large sums of money in
several locations they didn't think the Agency knew about, along with
fake papers and passports. In case they ever decided to try to leave.
And?"

"Cleaned out."

"Which means they must be alive!" Jackie said, brightly.

"Or," the Director replied, unwilling to raise hopes. "Or, someone else
found the money and took it. One of the Tang members, perhaps. Or an
Agency person who decided that since Mac and Victor were dead, the money
was fair game."

"But what if it *was* them?"

The Director sighed, and leaned back against the wall. "Then they've
decided to leave. We could check the airports, train stations and bus
stations..."

"But," Dobrinsky said, already knowing what the answer would be.

"But, if this is what they want... I'm not going to stand in their way. I
nearly got them killed last night. It wasn't Agency business, it was
personal. I threw Mac and Michael together, and that almost got them both
killed. If they've decide to leave..." She shut her eyes. "If they've
decided to leave, I'm not going to stop them. Dobrinsky, go back to base.
Erase all traces of them from Agency records. Use my 'worm' program on
the Agency computers to make sure that no one can track them."

"The other directors won't like that."

"Tough. I'm making this call. It'll be on *my* head."

Dobrinsky nodded, then headed for the door. The Director and Jackie
headed for the waiting room again.

"*Do* you think they're alive? I mean, that was one *hell* of an
explosion."

"I don't know. I'd like to think so."

* * * * *

Somewhere over the Atlantic, on a plane bound for Paris, two men sit.
They were lucky to get on a flight, this close to Christmas. Victor was
asleep, but Mac couldn't help replaying the last twenty-four hours over
and over again in his head.

They'd been damned lucky. The explosion had thrown them off their feet,
and into oblivion. When they'd woken, they'd found themselves on the
other side of a pile of crates. Thirty feet away, they saw the Director
and Jackie dig LiAnn out from under another pile of crates, tossed by the
explosion. Watched while their partner was loaded into an ambulance.
Watched, but made no noise.

They'd headed away from the burning building after the ambulance had
left, followed by the two women in Jackie's car. Both were still stunned,
but were relatively unharmed. A twisted knee, scrapes, bruises and a few
minor burns. A lump on Mac's head caused by Michael. Compared to what
they had seen of LiAnn, they were in great condition. A couple blocks
away, they found a spot to sit down.

"We should have said something," Vic said.

"Yeah."

"But we didn't."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure."

"I guess we should find a phone."

"Why?"

"To let them know we're okay, of course."

"Why?" Mac asked, thinking fast. "Think about it, Vic. For the last
couple of years, we've been at the beck and call of the Agency. Neither
of us is happy with the job anymore, if we ever were. I don't know about
you, but I want out, and this is the perfect chance. I've got money and
papers stashed away. Enough to get anywhere in the world and set up a new
identity. Support a person for a year. If we let them think we're dead..."

"A new life. Together?"

"Together." Mac reached out and grabbed onto Victor's hand. "A new life,
free of the past. What happened tonight was the last closure I needed for
my old life. The entire time I've been with the Agency, it's hung over my
head. It was part of how they *kept* a hold of me, what happened with the
Tangs. Now it's over. Now I can start over. Be who *I* want to be. And I
want you to come with me."

He waited, watching the other man's face. There was nothing there that he
could read. Finally, Victor opened his eyes and smiled.

"So, where do we go?"

Mac started grinning. He couldn't have stopped, even if he wanted to.
"Well, I've never been to Paris. The Tangs operated in Europe, but
they're gone, and the Agency kept us in North America."

"Great. We'll grab your getaway stash, then mine."

"Yours...?"

"Of course. You're not the only one thinking of the future, you know."

Mac started laughing. He stood up, then pulled Victor to his feet. If Vic
was anything like him, there would also be a suitcase full of clothing
and personal items in his stash, so they wouldn't have to go buy new
clothes or risk going back to their apartments. They'd still be leaving a
lot behind, but it was going to be worth it.

"Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"What the hell are we going to do in Europe? After all, we're going to
have to support ourselves."

"Let's see. You'd do *great* in the cabaret clubs with your strip act. Or
as a masseuse."

Vic snorted. "Seriously, Mac."

"Well... we did a great job with the Rivers, didn't we?"

"What, you mean... become thieves?"

"Why not? Hell, we could target criminals. Clean out their safes, keep
the valuables and send evidence of wrong-doing to Interpol or something."

Vic smiled at the thought. "Sort of a cross between Raffles and Robin
Hood. Well, it's something to think about when we get there. C'mon,
gorgeous. Let's get going."

Victor leaned on Mac's shoulder, and they limped down the alley, making
plans as they went.

* * * * *

Mac smiled at his sleeping partner. They'd showered at the Y, and changed
into fresh clothes before heading for the airport. Cash bribes had gotten
them onto a plane to Paris that had some last minute cancellations. Soon,
they would be announcing their landing in Paris, and they would begin
their new lives.

Set up their new identities. Maybe work for a while as bodyguards. Being
*good* thieves required a lot of expensive equipment. Besides, he needed
to spend some time training Vic. Safe cracking. Alarm systems. That sort
of stuff.

It was a big break. Mac knew he'd miss LiAnn. Hell, he might even miss
the others. Jackie. Dobrinsky. Even the Director and the Cleaners. Vic,
being Vic, would continue to worry about his sister, but they'd keep a
discreet eye on her. Maybe, someday, they'd even be able to contact her.
Certainly, they'd do just about anything to keep her from being recruited
by the Agency.

The only thing that really worried Mac was the Agency, itself. They
didn't seem like the sort of outfit that let people quit. Leave because
they were nuts, or disabled, maybe, but they still controlled them. But
two able-bodied agents? Mac knew they'd both be watching their backs for
a looong time to come. It was still worth it.

Strangely enough, he had a song running through his head. Cher. Not his
type of music, but she had a great voice.

Spent a lifetime, finally found someone
Gave him all that I had
In love, 'til the dream was gone
I was losing myself
Out in the darkness, alone
But the night made me strong, and I learned to let go
Time mends the heart, you turn the page, somehow
There's no looking back, the hurtin's behind you now

Starting over again, on a second time around
Coming back to win
Starting over again, take the first step
Let it begin, starting over

Okay, so what if she'd been singing about starting over after a
relationship breaks up. The lyrics still fit *their* situation to a "T".

The Captain's voice came over the intercom, and Victor stirred. It was
time. Time to start over, back at the beginning. Together.
 

THE END of Drowning Sorrows

Go to Always a Thief Part One

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