----------------------------------------
Drowning Sorrows
by Lianne Burwell
February 1998
----------------------------------------

Mac Ramsey sat watching the man at the bar drink. Victor Mansfield was 
well on his way to being completely sloshed, and Mac had a feeling that 
he knew why.

For the last couple of days Mac and Li Ann, two thirds of their team, had 
been living together as man and wife, pretending to be a rather offensive 
married couple, Herbie and Peaches (god help us all), who were also 
terrorists. "Find out why they're here" the Director had told them. 
Instead they had spent most of their time getting on each other's nerves. 
Maybe it was just as well they had never gotten married for real - they 
would have killed each other inside of a week.

But when Li Ann had arrived at the bar, looking serious, and had asked to 
talk to Victor alone... Mac had had a sinking feeling. The look on 
Victor's face, as Li Ann had left, had confirmed it. She had decided to 
break off their engagement. Well... he had been surprised that it had 
lasted *this* long. He had warned the older man that she was never going 
to marry him. Mac *knew* that Li Ann was just *not* the type to commit. 
But Victor had ignored him, assuming that it was just jealousy talking.

Mac finished his drink and thought about leaving. Unfortunately, if 
Victor did anything stupid, the Director would probably blame him. He 
wasn't sure that there was anything worse than being forced to deal with 
Dobrinsky's septic tank, but he didn't want to take the chance. He really 
didn't want to deal with Mr. Do-It-Yourself Son-Of-A-Bitch Dobrinsky 
again anytime soon.

He sighed, and got up to go join Victor. It was going to be a *long* 
evening.

* * * * *

"I can't believe sea... she dumped me. Jus' like that. Said she wasn't sure 
marriage was for her. Said it wasn't pretending to be married to you. 
Hah! S'all yer fault. You didn't like her with me. Thought I wasn't good 
enough, right? Show.. so you deshided to make sure we broke up..." Victor 
knocked back his latest drink. Mac didn't think he'd ever seen the 
straight-laced ex-cop drunk before. He decided it wasn't really a pretty 
sight. He sighed, and finished off his own drink, then signaled the 
bartender to bring him another.

"Wasn't me. Tried to warn you, y'know. Said she wasn't gonna marry you." 
He waved his fresh drink towards Victor. "Heck, warned ya again when this 
case started. She won't set a date? Isn't that warnin' enough for ya?"

Victor frowned. "'s different. We were still engaged. Now she wants to 
go *think* about it. Wants to *postpone* the engagement. How the heck do 
you postpone an *engagement*?!"

He waved to the bartender to come refill his glass. The guy behind the 
bar frowned at him. "Pal, I think you two have had enough. How 'bout I 
call a cab for you?" Mac and Victor both scowled at the man.

He saw these two in here a lot, along with the girl who left earlier, and 
was tempted to cut them some slack. After all, the one guy had just lost 
his girl, and, from past conversations, it sounded like they were in a 
pretty tense occupation, anyway What harm could it do to let them have 
a couple more drinks? Then he remembered the older woman who came in 
sometimes, the redhead. She scared him. Somehow he figured that if he let 
these two get arrested as either drunk-and-disorderly, or for driving 
under the influence, she might come after him. He shuddered, then turned 
to the phone to call a cab.

* * * * *

They had paid off the cabbie and were half-way up in the elevator before 
they realized they were *both* heading for Victor's apartment. Mac just 
shrugged. He was pretty wasted, and Victor was even further along. Better 
not to leave him alone. Not to mention that the other man might not even 
make it down the hall under his own power.

It took Victor three tries to get his key into the lock and turned, then 
they stumbled into the apartment's living room. 

"Nice view," Mac said, not really looking.

"Whatever." 

Actually, it was a nice place. Bright, cheery. Yellow paint on the walls. 
Then Mac got a good look at the stereo system. My God, the man had an 
eight-track! He really needed to join the nineties.

Victor fumbled around in the kitchen for a few minutes, then came out 
juggling an unopened bottle of whiskey and two glasses with ice. "You 
wan' some more?"

"Sure, why not?"

They sat on the couch for a while, not actually saying anything, just 
sipping their whiskeys. Mac finally broke the silence.

"You know, it's not like she's the only girl out there..."

"Suuuure. That's why *you're* shtill mooning after her."

"I am *not* mooning after her. It's jus'... we're from the same place. We 
understand each other. We grew up together. You don't really understand 
her."

"And you do? Hah!"

Mac topped up his glass again. "Anyway, you'll find someone else. You're 
cute. The girls go for your type."

"Oh *great*! Just what I wanted to hear. I'm *cute*! You get to be good-
looking, handsome, exotic, and I get to be *cute*!!" Victor practically 
spat out the word, then downed the rest of his drink.

"Huh? Exotic? What do you mean 'exotic'?" Mac blinked at him, confused at 
the words and tone.

"C'mon, you always get noticed by the women. Even the Director chases you 
around." Mac shuddered at the thought. "Heck, even the men watch ya. 
You've got tha' gorgeous voice, an' tha' mouth..." Victor was finally 
reduced to just waving his glass around, incoherently. He picked up the 
bottle and refilled.

"Sho.... D'you think I'm cute?"

"Huh?" Mac looked at him in surprise, having trouble keeping track of the 
conversation by that point.

"You shed... said I wouldn't have trouble findin' someone else 'cause I'm 
*cute*. Doesh tha' mean *you* think I'm cute?" Victor was staring at him 
with a strange expression on his face. For a second it almost looked like 
a... leer? Mac looked at him for a moment, trying to collect his 
thoughts. Answering was probably not a good idea, but the words just 
popped out...

"Sure I think you're cute. Why wouldn't I?"

"How m'I cute?"

"Huh?"

"How m'I cute? Detailsh... I gave you detailsh, so it's your turn."

"Err..." Mac was starting to get *really* weirded out by the whole 
conversation. "Well, you've got that that square chin, an' those big 
'trust me' eyes, and tha' *cute* grin." Victor suddenly flashed that 
grin at him, and Mac couldn't help but to grin back.

"Sho... you *do* think I'm cute!" Mac eyed Victor dubiously. The other man 
was *still* grinning - not to mention getting closer. In fact, he almost 
looked... predatory.

"Ummm... what are you... Maybe I should call a cab... Head home..."

"Shaddup, Ramsey." With that, Victor pounced.

Mac blinked, and suddenly found himself flat on his back on the floor 
next to the couch, with the older man seated firmly on his chest.. "Wait 
a mi... umph.." He hazily realized that he had stopped talking because 
there was a tongue trying to migrate down his throat. He tried using his 
own tongue to push out the invader, but it was *very* determined. 

Besides, he was quickly loosing interest in fighting. Damn, the man could 
kiss. Man... oh, man, this was weird. Mac spent the next few moments trying 
to figure out just *why* he was kissing a *man*, and one he didn't like, 
for that matter. Not to mention, one that needed a shave. He never would 
have thought that Victor was the type who would even *think* of doing 
something like this. Of course, he was wasted enough that he probably 
wasn't thinking, anyway. Not being able to come to any conclusions, thanks 
to the alcohol-induced haze he was in, he turned his attention back to 
his surroundings.

Somehow they had moved from the living room to the bedroom, and their 
clothes had disappeared somewhere in the transit. Now he was flat on his 
back with an armful of squirming, naked Victor. Not his first - or even 
last - choice in bed-partners. At least, not before that night.

'He'sh gonna *hate* me in the morning. Even more than he already doesh,' 
was all Mac could think.

"Thish ish... not a good idea..."

"Sure it issss... The Director said she likes shexual tension in a team, 
right? So, les' make it a *real* triangle. An' don't try to get away. I'm 
faster than you are."

This was followed up by a lick to his neck, then another tonsil-diving 
kiss. By that point, Mac's last functioning brain cells were shutting 
down in total confusion and his cock started talking too loud to hear 
anything else. He was so confused that the argument almost made *sense*.

Anyway, if he wasn't going to be able to get away with his... virtue 
intact, he might as well enjoy it. Right?

He flipped Victor over onto his back and started his own exploration. It 
wasn't as though he'd done this before, but 'Hey!' he thought, 'If it's 
something *I* like, he'll probably like it too.' He was almost absurdly 
proud to find that his line of reasoning was reasonable correct. He soon 
had a writhing Victor under him that was hard to hang onto. He didn't 
need to ask if the other man was enjoying himself - the stream of babble 
told him that.

What did surprise him was how *much* he was enjoying it. After all, this 
was *Victor*! Then, suddenly he was back on the bottom and enjoying the 
attentions that were being lavished on him. Somehow it seemed like there 
had to be more than just two hands and one mouth involved, because they 
were *everywhere*!

Then Victor was laying on top of him, thrusting at him with great vigor. 
The feeling of cock against cock was more intense than anything he had 
felt before. Mac thrust back, quickly picking up the tempo, until Victor 
froze, howling. Mac shuddered, his own orgasm triggered by the sight, and 
by the feel of the other man's semen spreading warmly across his own 
stomach.

Victor collapsed on top of him, snoring already. Mac wiped them both off 
with a corner of the bedsheet and thought, fuzzily, of getting dressed 
and calling a cab to get home. He was still considering it when sleep 
caught up with him.

* * * * *

Somebody stop the world, I wanna get off...

The next morning Victor woke with a pounding headache and a mouth that 
tasted like something died in it. He was thankful that he didn't have to 
go to work that day. The Director would have a field day with his condition.

Now, how the hell did he get this way?

Then he realized he was wrapped around someone warm. Smiling to himself, 
he licked at the neck his face was pressed against. Then he heard the 
pained groan. A very decidedly *masculine* groan. He lifted up 
cautiously, stomach protesting the movement vehemently, to see who he was 
in bed with. It was Mac, and he looked about as hung over as Victor felt.

"Mac?!?"

"aaargghhh! not so loud." Mac moaned and covered bloodshot eyes. Then he 
peaked out again with a confused look on his face.

"Mac. What are you doing in my bed?"

"You don't know?"

"Would I be asking if I did?"

"I guess not. Ummmm. I'm not sure. You were getting really drunk in the 
bar last night (at least I *think* it was last night) and I decided I 
better baby-sit you, since the Director would blame me if you got in any 
trouble (and I really don't want to get into any more trouble with her). 
Oh man... I have *never* been so drunk in my *life*!"

"*Baby-sit*?!?" They both winced at the volume.

"You said something about Li Ann dumping you and it was all my fault, 
then we both kept drinking. And drinking. And drinking. That's the last I 
remember. Oooohhh... Damn, my head hurts." Mac rolled over, squinting 
briefly at some of the strange stains on the bedsheets, and pulled 
himself upright.

They both staggered to their feet and made their way out to the living 
room. They stared at the path of clothing leading to the bedroom, 
discarded, it seemed, one item at a time. They looked at each other 
questioningly.

"Nahhhhh." They both winced, then went to find something to settle their 
stomachs.

Victor didn't notice Mac looking back at the bed with a faint look of 
regret.


----------------------------------------
Aftermath
by Lianne Burwell
February 1998
----------------------------------------

"Damnit! How do we get in these messes anyway?"

Victor popped a fresh clip into his gun while Mac fired off a couple of 
shots as cover.

"I mean, what were we told? Two guys with handguns guarding the hostage. 
What do we find? No hostage and *twenty* guys with automatics! If they 
keep doing this to us, we're going to end up *dead*."

When Victor popped up to take out a couple more of their attackers, Mac 
just snarled at him. "You might want to cut down the chatter, if we're 
going to get out of here alive, you know."

Victor looked at Mac for a second before firing off another few shots. 
Mac had been very testy for the last few weeks. He seemed to be avoiding 
Victor's company, and when they *were* in the same room, Mac was 
constantly snapping at him. Maybe they had never been exactly *friends*, 
but Mac never joked around him, or made suggestive comments anymore, and 
Victor was missing it. Mac was immature, sarcastic and juvenile, but he 
was great company.

Or he used to be.

But now was *not* the time to be musing on the meaning of life. They were 
pinned down at the back of an old warehouse, with no way out, and a lot 
of *really* nasty types trying to kill them. Their backup, Li Ann, was on 
her way, but God only knew if she'd be there in time.

Then there was a disturbing rattle over to the side. A familiar one.

Grenade.

Shit.

Mac noticed it too. He immediately swept Victor off to the side, around a 
pile of crates, and landed on top of the older man with just seconds to 
spare. As his ears rang from the explosion, and the crates came tumbling 
down on them, Victor felt the unmistakable heat of an erection pressed 
against his backside.

What the hell?

Then everything went black.

* * * * *

Pain greeted him when he came to his senses. Mac and Li Ann were hovering 
over him with concerned looks.

"Wha... what happened?" They both looked relieved. Mac gave a sheepish grin.

"One of the crates missed me, but bounced off of your head." Victor 
touched the back of his head and winced at the pain from the lump. His 
fingers came away stained slightly red. "Anyway, I was trying to figure 
out what the heck to do next, when Li Ann came bursting in. A little 
gunfire, a few stun-grenades, and the fight was over. Y'okay?"

Victor sat up, gingerly, and gave his head a little shake. It hurt like 
hell, and his stomach wasn't too crazy about it either, but he was too 
badly hurt. He could see an Agency cleanup crew dealing with the 
terrorists, both alive and dead. "Yeah, I'll be okay. A good night's 
sleep..."

Mac pulled him to his feet. He swayed for a moment, but stayed upright. 
Li Ann still looked worried, though. "Mac," she said. "Take him home and 
make sure he's all right there."

"Wouldn't you be better..." She glared at him. "All right, all right. We're 
going. You can explain what happened to the Director, then." She blanched 
a little at that, but just pointed him at the door.

* * * * *

Despite Victor's protests, Mac insisted on stopping to see a doctor 
first. A mild concussion was the verdict, and he was told to stay away 
from alcohol, and to go to the hospital if his vision started to go 
funny, or if he started throwing up. Then Mac drove him home and insisted 
on escorting him up to his apartment door.

But at the door, Mac seemed to shut down. He looked everywhere except at 
Victor or the door, and he looked like he was going to bolt at any second.

"There. I've gotten you home, and you can tell Li Ann that. See 'ya 
tomorrow." He was already shuffling in the direction of the elevators 
when Victor decided that he had had enough. He reached out to snag the 
young man's arm, and pulled him through the door. Mac opened his mouth to 
speak.

"No way, Mac. We need to talk. Now." He waved Mac towards the sofa. The 
other man sat down, while Victor went to kitchen and filled a couple of 
glasses with ice water. He handed one of the glasses to Mac and then sat 
in a chair opposite him.

"Talk to me, Mac." 

"I... I'm not sure what you mean."

Victor sighed. This was, obviously, not going to be simple. "You've been 
avoiding me, treating me like I have the plague, or something. I mean, 
you won't even look me in the eye right now! I know that you don't really 
*like* me, but this is ridiculous."

Mac muttered something indistinct, still not looking at him. Then he 
spoke up. "It's not that I don't like you..."

"Then what's the problem? You've been acting strange since... since..." 
Victor stopped to think for a moment. "Since we woke up together in my 
bed." He remembered the stains on the sheets, and grinned. "Why, Mac! Did 
you take advantage of me while I was drunk?"

"No!" The response was explosive and definite. Victor's grin just got 
wider.

"Well, then, did *I* take advantage of *you*?"

"Listen, I *really* got to get going. Get some sleep and you'll make more 
sense. 'Bye."

Victor found himself staring at his apartment door, as it slammed shut 
behind the young man that had practically fled the room.

Very interesting.

* * * * *

A couple of hours later, Victor was lying in bed considering the 
revelations of the day.

First of all, sometime during that alcohol induced blackout when Li Ann 
had broke off their engagement, he had dragged his other partner partner, 
Mac Ramsey, into his bed, and apparently had his "wicked way" with the 
younger man.

Second, no matter what he had claimed the next morning, Mac remembered 
exactly what happened.

Third, he must have enjoyed it, based on the erection he had been 
sporting when he had pushed Victor to the ground to protect him from the 
grenade earlier. It certainly indicated that he found Victor at least 
attractive.

No wonder Mac was acting like he was scared out of his wits. Probably Mac 
had always firmly considered himself straight, and wasn't sure how to 
deal with the fact that a man, let alone *Victor*, was able to arouse 
him. Victor could sympathize. The first time *he* had hit that 
realization, it had felt like the entire world had changed, and he had 
wanted things to go back to the way they had been. But he had adjusted. 
He quickly learned that it didn't matter what sex his partner was. Either 
was fun, albeit in different ways.

Idly, he wondered what would have happened if he had met Mac at the same 
time as he met Li Ann. He was attracted to both of them, for many of the 
same reasons. If he had met Mac first, instead of Li Ann, he would have 
pursued the young man the same way that he had pursued the woman who had 
been his fiancee. If he had met them both at the same time... he wasn't 
sure which one he might of gone after. Of course, they were engaged until 
they were separated during their escape from the Hong Kong crime family 
that had raised and trained them, and he wouldn't have hit on someone who 
was already taken. He had few inhibitions when it came to sex, but he 
didn't break up other people's relationships.

Then he laughed. Mac had made no secret of the fact that he considered 
Victor to be a boring, anal man. It must have shocked the hell out of him 
to find that Victor wasn't quite the... fuddy duddy he thought he was.

So, what next?

Victor knew that his relationship with Li Ann was over. Since she had 
"postponed" their engagement, they had slipped into a comfortable 
friendship, despite the physical awareness. But even if she decided she 
*did* want to get married after all, he didn't think he could go back to 
the way they had been before. There would always be that element of doubt 
to their relationship.

But he didn't like being alone, and his choices were limited. Li Ann was 
out, by her own choice. The Director... He shuddered. That option was *not* 
one he was going to consider. And working for a "shadowy government 
agency" kinda cut down the options for outside dating.

But Mac? He was funny, if slightly juvenile. Someone Victor would trust 
at his back in a firefight. Hell, the other man had tried to save him 
from a grenade just that afternoon. And, of course, the man was sexy as 
*Hell*.

So... he knew what he wanted. Now he just had to *get* it.

His grin got wider, again. This was going to be fun. Mac wasn't going to 
know what hit him.

* * * * *

Mac stood outside Victor's building for a second, collecting his wits 
before heading for his car. He couldn't believe just how close he had 
come to throwing himself at the other man. The man that Li Ann had chosen 
- for a while, at least - over him.

What the hell was going on? He couldn't even blame it on the booze, 
anymore. Here he was, perfectly sober, and he *still* wanted to jump the 
man's bones.

It was just adrenaline.

Right.

He did *not* want the man!

Shit. Maybe, if he just kept telling himself that, he might actually 
start to believe it.

He headed for home.


----------------------------------------
The Seduction of Mac Ramsey
by Lianne Burwell
February 1998
----------------------------------------

Mac Ramsey was about to go nuts. Completely and totally nuts.

For the last few weeks it seemed like every time he turned around, Victor 
Mansfield was always there. He snarled - Victor was still there. He 
insulted the man - Victor was still there. He even tried hitting the man. 
Victor just blocked the blow. And he was *still* there. Next to him in a 
fight. Inviting him out for drinks. Flashing that gorgeous grin. And 
always touching. Brushing past. Patting him on the shoulder.

Mac wished that he could find some way to get rid of the older man. He 
had needed to switch to loose pants and long jackets, because it seemed 
like he was constantly hard. At night he jerked off, trying to think of 
*anyone* other than Victor, and failed miserably.

Why was this happening to him?

He started chasing women even more intently than before, often succeeding 
in catching them, but it didn't do him any good. The last blond had even 
stormed out in a huff. Apparently he had called out Victor's name at the 
worst possible moment.

Sometime he wondered what might happen if he threw himself at Victor and 
begged the man to take him. Then he shook his head. The only result that 
he could imagine involved him ending up with a broken jaw.

* * * * *

 "Hey, Mac. Want to go get a beer?"

"Nope. *I* have a date."

"Kerri again?"

"Nah. Kerri's history. It's Jessica now."

"Riiight. So how long will *she* last?"

"Hey! I'm young. I'm still sowing my wild oats!"

"One of these days you'll have to grow up. Settle down with *one* person."

"Suure. And what woman is going to put up with the hours *we* work? Let 
alone not *knowing* what I do?"

"Maybe you're just looking in the wrong place."

What did he mean by that?

* * * * *

Mac grimaced as he pulled off his clothes. He dumped the once-nice outfit 
in the corner to be taken for incineration, trying not to smell the slime 
that caked it. Then he stepped into the locker room shower and turned the 
water on as hot as it would go.

A cold draft ran across his back and he groaned as he saw Victor step 
into the shower, naked as the day he was born. He refused to let himself 
look at the other man, praying that the steam was thick enough to hide 
his immediate physical response.

"What the hell *was* that stuff, anyway?"

Oh great. Now he would have to talk too? "Don't know. Don't think I 
*want* to know."

"Good point."

Mac quickly soaped up and rinsed off, then tried to make his escape.

"You missed a spot."

"Huh?"

"You missed a spot. There's still a smear on your back. Here, let me."

Mac froze as a soapy sponge rubbed briskly at a spot above his left 
shoulder-blade. Bit by bit, the pressure let up, until it was almost a 
caress. He resisted the urge to lean into the touch by pure force of 
will.

Then he jumped as a hand smacked his rear end.

"There you go. All clean."

Mac grabbed his towel and beat a hasty retreat. How the hell was he 
supposed to get his spare pants on over this monster woody?

* * * * *

Mac hunched over his beer, trying to ignore the rest of the world. He 
knew he was wallowing in guilt, but he didn't care. A gentle touch on his 
shoulder brought him out of himself.

"You okay, Ramsey?"

He tapped his finger against the side of the beer glass. It was still his 
first one, since he really didn't want to hide in a drunken haze. "Not 
really. I've never had to do that before. I mean, shooting a terrorist 
with a gun was one thing. Shooting an unarmed woman..."

"If you hadn't, she would have made it to that switch. Then you, I, 
Li Ann and half a million innocent people would have died."

"I know. I just wish..."

"C'mon. Let's get out of here."

For once, Mac didn't argue. He just followed Victor, completely docile, 
out of the bar to his truck. He didn't ask where they were going. He 
quickly realized that they were headed for Victor's apartment. Perhaps he 
should have objected, but he really didn't want to be alone.

Once inside the apartment, Victor took firm control. Mac found himself 
pushed into a warm bubble bath for half an hour, then dried and wrapped 
in a fuzzy robe. Food was placed in front of him and he ate mechanically. 
Then he was slipped into Victor's bed, with the covers pulled up under 
his chin. He fell asleep hearing Victor preparing to spend the night on 
the sofa.

* * * * *

Sometime during the night, the usual nightmares woke him up partway. Warm 
lips brushed his forehead, chasing the last of the dream away, and a soft 
voice urged him back to sleep. He went willingly, comforted by the other 
presence.

* * * * *

The next morning, Mac woke to bright sunshine. He stretched, feeling 
completely relaxed for the first time in a long while. He wrapped himself 
in Victor's robe again, and padded out to the main room.

Victor greeted him with a big smile and a cup of coffee. "So. Did you 
sleep well?"

"Yeah, I did. Thanks." He sipped the coffee, then looked up. "ummm, 
thanks for... chasing the... nightmare away." His face heated up in mild 
embarrassment.

"All part of the service."

"I just don't understand *why*."

Victor frowned. "Because you were hurting. I don't like seeing people I 
care about hurting."

"Yeah, but you don't exactly care a lot about me." Mac winced when he 
noticed the slightly bitter tone to his voice.

By this point, they were both sitting on the sofa. They weren't quite 
touching, but Mac could feel the warmth of the other man's body. The 
hairs on his arm were standing up and he felt a need to shiver.

"Whatever gave you that idea? I care a *lot*." Victor shifted over a 
little until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. Mac could no longer 
control the shivers running through him. His blood was running hot and 
cold, and he could no longer misinterpret the signals the other man was 
giving off.

"But you... Li Ann..."

"We were together. We aren't anymore. What does that have to do with you 
and me?"

"But you... like girls!"

"And I like guys. I've known that since I was much younger than you. 
You're an attractive man, a *very* attractive man. You're funny, witty, a 
good man to have at your back in a fight. When you loose the sarcasm, 
you're fun to be around. Why wouldn't I be attracted to you?"

Mac blushed. Victor reached over and brushed his fingers against Mac's 
cheek. The stubble rasped loudly.

"Why don't you go shower and shave. I'll make breakfast."

* * * * *

Mac wiped the moisture off of the bathroom mirror as he started up the 
electric razor. The face he saw was almost that of a stranger.

Victor *wanted* him. All he had to do was... ask. But did *he* want to? 
All his life he had focused just on girls, especially since... But that 
was long past.

He wanted Victor, but was he ready for all that being with him would 
mean? He could keep on the way he was right now. He shuddered at the 
thought of more one night stands with women who didn't understand. Didn't 
know how to deal with the nightmares. Wouldn't put up with the broken 
dates. With Victor, those problems would be gone.

But what about Li Ann. If she decided she wanted Victor back, what would 
the other man do? If he went back to her, where would that leave Mac? Was 
he willing to take that chance?

He laughed suddenly. Deep thoughts for a man standing in a towel shaving. 
The real question was if he was willing to walk out of the apartment, 
still wondering what it *could* be like?

* * * * *

When Mac went back out to the main part of the apartment he was still 
wearing the robe, even though he had found his clothing neatly folded on 
a chair in the bedroom. Victor didn't comment, just putting a plate of 
scrambled eggs in front of him. Something "shoop-shooped" over the 
speakers, while Victor sang about "it's in his kiss".

After breakfast, Mac offered to wash the dishes. He was elbow deep in 
suds when he felt arms wrap around his waist. This time he didn't fight 
the urge, and leaned back into the embrace. Victor chuckled into his ear.

"Does this mean you're going to let me seduce you?" the man said with a 
smile.

"Yeah. How long?"

"How long what? How long have I been attracted to you? Since we met."

"Hah! When we met you tried to beat the crap out of me."

"Well, you were a stranger, standing in the middle of Li Ann's apartment. 
What was I supposed to do? But you just looked so... adorable, standing 
there holding that bunch of red roses."

Mac chuckled "And you were standing there with a bunch of white roses. 
Anyway, that wasn't what I meant. How long have you been working at 
seducing me?"

"Since that day when you brought me home after I got bashed by a crate. 
When you flew out of here, I knew I was right about having... molested 
you that time I was so drunk. I decided to see if you would be... 
receptive. When my efforts resulted in constant hardons on your part, I 
decided I was on the right track. I'm glad." Lips brushed below Mac's 
ear, and he groaned. "C'mon, Mac. Let me make you feel good."

Victor lead him back into the bedroom, and he followed, more than 
willingly. Victor quickly stripped his clothes off, folding them neatly and 
placing them on top of the pile of Mac's. Mac couldn't help laughing at 
the almost anal neatness being displayed.

But when the other man moved over to stand in front of him, he moved with 
a feline, almost predatory, grace. He gulped as the other man undid the 
robe's belt and slipped it off his shoulders, letting it  fall into a 
pool around his feet. Victor reached out to stroke his chest.

"Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful." Victor pinched lightly at the nipples, 
until they stood as tight peaks. Then he leaned forward to flick at one 
of them with his tongue. Mac felt a jolt run through his body, and he let 
his head fall back. He groaned as he felt Victor fasten lips on one of 
his nipples and suck.

Mac decided that it was time that he showed some initiative. He pulled 
the other man over to the bed, and they lay down, side by side. He moved 
forward to kiss Victor, using every skill he had ever learned. The man 
tasted of orange juice and the spices that were in the eggs. The 
smoothness of his face, and the faint smell of after-shave lotion said 
that he had shaved before Mac had woken up.

Gradually, they moved closer together until they were pressed tightly 
together, chest to chest. Mac pulled his mouth away with a gasp when he 
felt Victor's erection brush against his own. Victor smiled at him.

"Shh. Let me make you feel good," he said again.

Victor rolled them over so that Mac was on his back. He started nibbling 
his way down the young man, sucking and licking at the pulse point, 
nipples, navel and anywhere else that looked to be sensitive. Then he 
stretched out, full-length, over Mac, supporting most of his weight on 
his forearms. He started to gently rub their groins together.

Mac moaned, and started thrusting back against the other man's movements. 
He reached up, blindly, to grab the Victor's face, and pulled him down 
into a deep kiss, the thrusts of his tongue synchronized with the 
movement of their hips.

* * * * *

Victor gradually increased the tempo of his thrusts, until Mac was 
writhing under him, out of control from the sensations. Then he reached 
down to take both their cocks in a firm grip. That one touch was all that 
was needed to tip Mac over the edge, and Victor followed behind him 
quickly.

When their breathing had calmed down, Victor moved towards the bedstand. 
Mac clutched at him, as though he thought Victor was going to leave.

"Just a second, love. I just want to get us cleaned up before we stick 
together." He grabbed the damp cloth from where he had put it while Mac 
had started the dishes. It was still slightly warm, and he used it to 
wipe up the pools of semen. Then he settled back under the covers and 
pulled the young man into a tight embrace. Mac snuggled in as closely as 
he could. Victor wondered, briefly, what had made the other man so 
insecure.

Then he slung one leg over Mac's, and they both slipped off to sleep.


----------------------------------------
Red Roses
by Lianne Burwell
February 1998
----------------------------------------

Victor Mansfield was in a bad mood. He had spent the day chasing down 
leads on a case they were working on. Someone had stolen a truckload of 
high-tech guns from a military convoy. While it was in transit. With *no 
one* noticing. So far he had come up empty, but tomorrow was another day, 
Scarlett.

He hoped.

He suddenly stopped in the act of tossing his jacket over the back of the 
sofa. Sitting on his coffee-table was a vase he had never seen before. It 
was delicate, obviously Chinese, and very beautiful. In it was an 
arrangement of red and white roses. He smiled, remembering his first 
sight of Mac Ramsey, standing holding a bouquet of red roses.

When Mac had been involved with Li Ann, he had always given her white 
roses. When he found out she was working for the Agency, he had stolen 
the information on where she was living, and broke into her apartment. To 
surprise her, he had run around filling all the vases with white roses. 
Only problem was that they were already full of red roses given to her by 
Victor. When *he* had arrived, the result was almost a french farce. 
Puzzled to find the vases full of white roses, with his red roses lying 
beside them, he had started putting the red ones back. Then, as he moved 
to the next room, Mac had come out and started changing the bouquets 
again, not sure what was going on. Finally they had run into each other, 
and had proceeded to try to beat each other up - while not damaging the 
premises, of course - until Li Ann had arrived.

Victor stroked one of the roses, smiling at the memory, then headed for 
the bedroom. Standing in the doorway, he admired the sight of a naked - 
and very aroused - Mac Ramsey stretched out on his bed, rose petals 
decorating his skin.

"Been waiting long?"

"Far too long," came the smiling response. "So why don't you get rid of 
those clothes and come join me?"

Victor quickly stripped, dropping his clothes on the floor, just to see 
the other man grin. Then he leaped, bouncing onto the bed next to Mac. A 
mock-wrestling match ensued, leaving them both laughing and leaking with 
arousal.

Finally, Victor managed to pin his lover to the mattress. He slithered 
his way down Mac's body to suck on his cock. He worked at keeping the 
suction from being too strong, running his tongue around the edge of the 
head. In the few weeks since they had become lovers, Victor had worked 
hard at mapping every single one of the younger man's erogenous zones. 
The appreciative sounds that Mac made were more than worth the effort.

But he always made sure to keep his hands away from Mac's ass. Everytime 
he had tried to touch the man there, Mac froze completely. Victor hadn't 
pressed the man for reasons - yet - but he was going to have to, sooner 
or later. He had also found out, the first time that Mac had spent the 
night, that he suffered from frequent nightmares. Victor had a sneaking 
suspicion that he knew what the signs added up to, and he didn't like it 
*at all*.

He put it out of his mind for the moment, and concentrated on the task at 
hand.

* * * * *

"Oh, man! I hurt like hell."

Victor winced as Mac stripped. The young man was already turning 
spectacular shades of black and blue. They had finally tracked down the 
fringe group that had stolen the weapons (would you believe they did it 
with *mirrors*?) and had moved in. Unfortunately, someone taking a leak 
outside had seen Mac and had managed to grab him. Victor and Li Ann had 
rescued him, and recovered the stolen guns, but not before several of the 
nuts had beaten Mac up. According to the Agency doctor, there were no 
serious injuries, but he was going to hurt for a while.

"Climb into bed, love."

Mac headed for the bedroom, while Victor locked up. He threw a few of 
those natural grain heat pads into the microwave for the required length 
of time, then grabbed towels and a bottle of massage oil from the 
bathroom. He wrapped one of the heatpads around the bottle of oil before 
rejoining his lover. Mac was naked, lying on his side on the bed.

"Lie on your back, and let me rub some of those aches away." Mac turned 
over, obediently. 

Victor stripped down to his boxers, and moved to straddle Mac. He slipped 
a couple of the heat pads under Mac, where the bruising was the worst, 
then warmed his hand against one and poured some of the massage oil into 
his cupped hand. He started to firmly stroke at the muscular chest 
beneath him, keeping the pressure light, over the bruises, then increased 
the pressure where there were none. After thoroughly massaging the area, 
he repeated the process, rubbing in Tiger Balm this time. Then he moved 
down the bed to give the legs the same treatment.

"Roll over, so I can do your back."

Mac hesitated for a moment, then turned. This time, Victor started with 
the legs and worked his way up, still careful not to touch Mac's ass. 
When he reached Mac's back, he had moved to sit beside Mac, instead of 
straddling him. He was working the oil into Mac's back when he noticed an 
unusual texture beneath his fingers. Leaning closer, he releazed that 
there were scars on his lower back and - he could barely see - extending 
down onto the buttocks.

"Mac, what are these scars from?"

Instantly the young man was as tense as he had previously been relaxed. 
"I don't know what you're talking about." The delivery was flat, 
completely unlike Mac's usual annimated tones.

Victor continued massaging at the hard muscles in the shoulders. "The 
scars on your back. I can't force you to tell me about them, but I wish 
you would."

Mac rolled away and curled up on his side. Victor climbed into the bed 
and held him. "It's all right. You don't *have* to tell me anyhing."

"Michael."

Victor was startled at the apparent non-sequitor, then he frowned. "Your 
foster brother? The one who was obsessed with Li Ann? What about him?" He 
had a feeling he *knew* 'what about him.'

"He wasn't always obsessed with *her*." Mac shivered a little. "That's 
the main reason I kept urging her to leave with me. Michael wanted her, 
and I knew what that meant."

Victor was seeing red. "Michael forced himself on you?" Mac nodded. 
"He... hurt you?" Mac turned in his arms and curled up against him. 

"It started when we were both teens. He didn't look like it, but he was a 
couple of years older than me. One night, when I was fifteen, I woke up 
to find him in my bedroom. He said he wanted me. That he needed me. I was 
scared - he had a dangerous temper back then, and he resented the fact 
that his father cared so much for me and Li Ann. But I was also a little 
flattered. I looked up to him back then.

"Anyway, I let him... It was nice at first. He was almost tender. Then 
he started to get angry. Then he started bringing toys. He made threats 
to make sure that I wouldn't tell his father. Then, suddenly, he stopped 
coming. That was a few years ago. I quickly moved out, into my own 
apartment.

"I never told anyone. Michael would have been furious, and he scares me. 
He was never quite... sane."

Victor stroked the other man's back, soothingly. "Well, he's dead now. 
He's not going to hurt you ever again. And I will *never* hurt you."

"Are you sure? His body was never found."

"Li Ann saw him drive off the edge of the road, into the water."

"But his body wasn't in the car! Sometimes, when I wake in the middle of 
the night, I'm sure I'm going to see him standing there, waiting for me 
to wake up. To do whatever he orders. Holding that damn whip. Carrying 
that bag of toys that he liked to use on me. Shove up me." Mac was 
trembling uncontrollably at that point, but his eyes were still dry. 
Victor could see that he wasn't really focused on the here and now. He 
started kissing Mac's face.

"Shhh. It's all right. He's gone. I won't ever do that to you. Nothing 
you don't want. Shhh." Gradually, Mac started to relax. When the last of 
the tremors were gone, he started to nuzzle at Victor's chest. Victor had 
lost his erection while listening to Mac talking about his abuse, but now 
he could feel both of them getting getting hard again. He wasn't sure 
that they should do this, not with everything so fresh in Mac's mind. 
Then a hand slipped inside his boxers, and he knew he wasn't going to be 
able to resist.

Maybe...

"Mac"

"Hmmm?"

"Did he ever let you... fuck him?"

Mac raised his head to look at Victor in confusion. "Of course not. Why 
would he?"

"Would you like to fuck me?" Mac was immediately shaking his head, 
violently.

"No! I'd hurt you. I don't want to hurt you!"

"Shh. You wouldn't hurt me. I'll tell you what to do, how to do it right. 
Here." He handed Mac the bottle of massage oil, then slipped his boxers 
off and rolled onto his side, facing away from Mac. "Pour some of the oil 
on your hand. Now, put one finger in my ass. Yes. Now move it around 
gently. Oh yes, just like that. Now pull it out and pour some more oil on 
your hand. This time put in two fingers. Open and close them, like 
scissors, until the muscle starts to relax. Oh God!" Victor jerked in 
Mac's arms. Mac immediately pulled away. 

"I hurt you! Shit!"

"No, Mac. You just rubbed my prostate. It felt *good*. Like a flash 
running through me. Come back, please. Now do that again, but put in 
three fingers this time. Oh yes! Now, pour some of the oil on your cock. 
Push just the head in." Victor hissed a little at the feeling. "Just hold 
still while my ass relaxes. Hmmm. It's been a while. Now, push in 
further. Slowly. Yes. More. More!"

When Victor felt Mac's balls against his ass, he couldn't hold still 
anymore. He started undulating back and forth against the other man. He 
reached back to grab Mac's hand and brought it around to his own cock. 
"Touch me. Please!"

Mac started jerking him off, while he thrust harder and harder. He was 
practically whimpering into Victor's ear. Then he froze, and came with a 
sob. A couple of last tugs was all it took to finish off Victor as well.

* * * * *

Mac clung to Victor, his breathing still erratic. Gradually, he felt 
himself slip out of Victor. He wished he could have stayed there forever. 
The idea of someone putting something in his ass still scared him, but he 
couldn't deny that Victor seemed to have enjoyed it.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

The sound that Victor made was almost a purr. Pure satisfaction. "Never."

"Do you... want to... do me?"

"Someday. When it doesn't scare you so much. When you want me to."

"What if I never do?"

"Then we won't. You can keep doing me."

Mac cuddled up close again. Tears leaked from under his lashes, falling 
on Victor's chest. He wished he could really believe that Michael was 
really gone forever. A few ghosts had been exorcised, but not all of them.

Maybe someday.


----------------------------------------
Drowning Sorrows Again
by Lianne Burwell
February 1998
----------------------------------------

Mac Ramsey stared into his glass, looking for answers in the alcohol. He 
didn't think he was going to find any, but he was certainly going to try.

"I still can't believe you were going to marry her, Mac."

Mac refused to look at Victor. In the corner of his eye, he could see 
Li Ann and the Director talking intently. "I told you, I wanted some 
stability in my life. Change."

"But what about me? Mac, I love you, and you were just going to walk 
away!"

Mac snorted, then took a gulp from his glass. "Yeah, right. C'mon, Vic, 
we both know that isn't true."

"What do you mean?"

"A couple of months ago, you were in love with Li Ann."

"I'm not anymore, if that's what you're getting at."

"Right! You *were* in love with her, then *poof* you aren't Now you say 
you're in love with me. How long until you aren't?" He shook his head, as 
Victor opened his mouth. "Don't say it. If you want to keep sleeping 
together, fine. The sex is great, I can't deny that. But don't try to get 
serious, cause we both know it won't last. That's why I was going to 
marry Claire. I thought we had something that *could* last."

He finished off the glass, then signaled for a refill.

"I'm not setting myself up for this kind of grief again."

* * * * *

Victor shook his head. He had been horrified when Mac had announced that 
he was getting married. Still, he had arranged a stag party (such as it 
was), and promised to stand up as first man, while still trying to track 
down the missing uranium. The fact that Mac's wife-to-be was the main 
suspect in the case hadn't helped.

But, the whole time, he had been dying inside. Li Ann dumping him had 
hurt like hell. Finding out that *Mac* was dumping him was even worse, 
and he wasn't sure why, but he had hidden it. Now Mac was saying that he 
didn't *trust* Victor's feelings? Didn't believe him?

Maybe he should have shown the hurt.

Meanwhile, he was going to have to prove to Mac that he did love him. It 
would be a longer, and far more difficult campaign than seducing the 
beautiful young man, but he was going to give it his best shot. He 
certainly wasn't going to give up without a fight.

Not this time.

* * * * *

"She did love me, y'know. She couldn't shoot me."

Victor grunted an affirmative as he supported Mac down the hallway. He 
propped Mac up against the wall, next to his apartment door, then he 
paused. He didn't have a key to Mac's apartment, and he didn't think 
that it would be a good idea to go fishing through the man's pockets. 
Instead, he pulled out a lock-pick and used it to jimmy the door open.

"She had the gun. She coulda shot me easy. She didn't. Maybe she shoulda."

"Don't talk silly, Mac."

Inside, he quickly and efficiently stripped his lover, then tucked him 
into bed. In the kitchen, he made up a glass of the Mansfield Secret 
Recipe Hangover Remedy. He placed the glass, along with a couple of 
aspirin on the bedside table, then sat down and propped Mac up.

"C'mon, Ramsey, upsy daisy. Trust me, you're gonna be miserable in the 
morning if you don't drink this."

Mac waved the glass away. "'M already miserable. Don' wan' it. Wanna stay 
miserable."

"Please?" Victor put all the pleading he could into his voice, but trying 
to keep it light.

A little more coaxing, and Mac finally swallowed the aspirin, and the 
hangover remedy, making gagging noises at the taste. Hopefully he would 
feel better when he woke up. Then Victor tucked the man back under the 
covers and got up to leave. A hand shot out to grab his.

"please don't go," came the whisper.

"This wouldn't be a good idea." But he didn't pull away. He had planned 
to sleep on the sofa, but he knew it was damned uncomfortable.

"I don't want to be alone tonight." Mac was starting to sound a little 
more sober, already, but his eyes were closed. Victor sighed.

"All right." He stood up long enough to strip down to his underwear, then 
slipped under the covers. Mac rolled into his arms, and Victor stroked 
his hair. "It's going to be all right. You'll see. I'm not going anywhere."

A snore was the only response.

* * * * *

When Victor woke up, Mac wasn't there. He got up and headed for the 
living room. He smiled, remembering the time they had spent locked up in 
the apartment with Dobrinsky after Nicholas Love had started killing off 
male agents. The most frustrating thing had been the fact that they 
hadn't been able to fool around with the third man there. They had over-
compensated by annoying the hell out of each other, trying to keep 
Dobrinsky from realizing they were involved. They had probably failed 
miserably.

"Morning." Mac was holding out a coffee mug.

"Morning, yourself. Feeling better?"

"A little."

Victor was disturbed at how lifeless Mac looked. Yesterday's events had 
really hit the man hard. He drank the coffee, silently, and waited for 
Mac to say something. Mac wandered over the window.

"I was wondering. D'you think she knows?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think she knows we're sleeping together?"

"Who, Claire?"

"No! The Director."

Victor frowned. "Why would she know?"

"C'mon, Vic! She knows *everything*. Sometimes I think she has 
everybody's apartments bugged, or something."

Victor laughed. "I think you're getting paranoid, man. I doubt she would 
bother bugging her own operatives." Mac snorted. "If she did, wouldn't 
she have said something by now?"

"Maybe she's just waiting for the right moment. Or the worst moment, 
which, for her, would be the same thing."

"Are you saying you want to end everything? Not have anything to do with 
each other outside of work?"

"No. Like I said, the sex is really good."

Victor sighed. He thought about pressing the point, but decided that it 
really wasn't a good time yet. "So what *do* you want to do?"

"I want to go to bed." Mac moved to stand in front of Victor. "Do you 
want to come with me?"

Victor considered for a moment, then followed him into the bedroom. They 
both slipped out of their underwear and came together in the middle of 
the bed. Victor wasn't sure that this was a good idea, but both of them 
needed the contact. He responded, eagerly, to the kisses. Up until now,
Mac had been surprisingly passive. That was obviously at an end. He liked 
the change. It was about time that the "old" Mac reasserted himself.

When Mac rolled him over onto his stomach and prepared him for entry, he 
didn't resist . He was a little surprised at how tender Mac was with him. 
Considering Mac's mood, he had expected a rougher ride, but instead it 
was slow and tender. When they both came, it was quietly.

Idly, he wondered if maybe Mac was right. Did the Director know? Did it 
really matter?

Then they both fell asleep.

* * * * *

The Director looked thoughtful, as she popped the tape out of the VCR, 
then placed it with the others. The records for her favorite team were 
getting quite bulky. She hadn't been kidding about liking the sexual 
tension dynamic in a team, but this might damaging.

But she might as well allow it to continue - for now. It was possible 
that Victor could keep Mac from getting *too* out of hand. 

Well, she doubted that.

Still, you never know. It was interesting seeing how they behaved around 
Li Ann these days. Besides. The tapes were great entertainment. And if 
there ever was a problem? Well... the Cleaners had been assigned to deal 
with these sorts of problems before.

She popped a kernel of popcorn in her mouth and cued up the next tape. 
Maybe next time she should invite Li Ann to join her. *That* might be 
*very* interesting.


----------------------------------------
Temptations
by Lianne Burwell
February 1998
----------------------------------------

Victor lay on his bed, staring up and the ruined light fixture, and 
wondered just how he had managed to get himself in this mess. He had 
almost lost his friends, and nearly gotten himself killed at the same 
time.

Victor had always wondered why Mac and Li Ann were so hung up on the 
Tang family. Sure, they had been raised by the family, and stole for the 
family, but why were they so obsessed?

Now... he had an idea of how they felt. He had started out infiltrating 
the mob on orders from the Director, but he had found the family 
atmosphere to be... addictive. He didn't have any family right now, 
except Li Ann, who had dumped him, and Mac, who didn't believe that Vic 
was in love with him. Then, suddenly, he was being embraced by a family 
that *wanted* him. And he had fallen for it.

And it had almost gotten him killed.

When the knock came at his door, he knew that it had to be Mac. Mac 
probably wanted to yell at him for been a fool, and he deserved it. So, 
he got up and opened the door.

Yep. It was Mac.

"So, Vic. How do we feel today?"

"If you're here to yell at me, get it over with." Victor closed the door, 
as the grinning man entered the apartment.

Mac's grin gentled a little bit. "Nah. I'm still pissed about you not 
being there to back me and Li Ann up, but the rest of it? I understand."

Mac sat down on the sofa. "It sucks you in, doesn't it? Sometimes, a 
betrayal is the only thing that can make you break away."

"The voice of experience?"

"Hey, I'm not just an immature jerk, y'know."

"She does know. You knew that."

"What do you mean?"

Victor pulled Mac up off the coach and into the bedroom. He pointed at 
the shot-up remains of the overhead light fixture. "She called me up to 
tell me to get out of the assignment. I wouldn't pick up the phone. She 
said she wasn't guessing when she said that I was there, and started 
describing exactly where I was and what I was doing at the time. You 
knew, didn't you."

Mac sighed. "Yeah. When I told her I was getting married, she started 
quoting things I told Claire. She said I was an agent living in a secured 
building, in an apartment owned by the Agency, so what did I expect? That 
was one of the main reasons I wanted to get away."

"So. Now what."

'We ignore it? Maybe she just enjoys the show. Or we sweep our apartments 
every day. Wait for her to say something. Whatever. Just do me one favor."

Victor frowned. "What's that?"

"Keep that blonde twit away from me!"

Victor blinked at the sudden change of subject, then grinned. "I thought 
you *liked* blondes."

Mac shuddered.  "Except her! She *scares* me, man. That chick is 
*totally* nuts. I can't believe that the Director wants us to work with 
her!" Victor snickered.

"Anyway, that's not why I'm here. *I* am here to cheer *you* up, so get 
dressed and let's *go*."

* * * * *

Mac had been worried when Victor opened the door. The older man had 
looked so... lost. He had planned to teasing the man for a while for 
falling for the trap before dragging him out, but he had quickly changed 
his plans.

He sympathized with Vic. Leaving the Tangs had been his choice, while 
Victor had been betrayed *big* time. Mac had been with the Tangs for 
years, while for Vic it had been a very short time. Still, the hurt was 
the same.

Forget the teasing. He just wanted to get Vic smiling.

* * * * *

"Ah, c'mon Mac. You've *got* to be joking." They were standing outside of 
one of those Hong Kong restaurants that Mac and Li Ann were always going 
to.

"Live a little, Vic. You never know, you might *like* it, horrifying a 
thought that might be." Mac stared at him expectantly, grin glued all 
over his face, while Victor stood considering it. He happened to like the 
American version of Chinese food. He didn't really want to try the 
"authentic" version that Mac was always going on about, but if it would 
help convince Mac that he was serious...

"All right. But no squid, you hear me?" Mac just grinned at him.

* * * * *

Actually, it ended up being a great evening. Victor was surprised to find 
out that he enjoyed the food, not that he was going to admit that. He had 
still refused to try the squid, no matter how much a production Mac made 
out of eating it. However, Mac's production of sucking the sauce off of a 
teensy squid had left him partly nauseous, and partly aroused.

Then Mac had dragged him off to a music club. Victor had groaned, 
inwardly, at the thought of listening to that modern junk that Mac called 
music.

Instead, it turned out to be a blues club. He wasn't even sure how Mac 
had found the place. The music had been fantastic, and so had the 
company. Mac had even seemed to enjoy the music, despite the sarcastic 
comments. Who knows, maybe the younger man was discovering that they had 
more in common than they thought. That - maybe - they could coexist as 
more than the "friends who sleep together," or whatever, that he seemed 
to want to keep their relationship as.

Certainly, Mac was a lot more relaxed than he had been since his ill-
fated attempt at getting married.

At the end of the evening, Victor had been surprised to find that his bad 
mood had completely evaporated. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was to get 
his partner home, and into bed.

* * * * *

The cab dropped them off in front of Victor's building in the wee hours 
of the morning. Neither man was really drunk, merely mellow, but neither 
was going to risk driving. The Agency's penalties for getting arrested 
for drunk driving were... to be avoided. Especially since Dobrinsky was 
in charge of punishment, most of the time. They were heading for the door 
to the building, when a car came screeching around the corner.

"Hit the deck!" Victor shouted as he reached for his gun. They both 
ducked behind a handy pillar near the doors, guns drawn and safeties off. 
Bullets slammed into the pillar as they dived for it.

"Who *are* they?" Victor shouted.

"How the hell should *I* know? They're outside *your* building, so maybe 
*you* should know." They fired on the vehicle as it headed around the 
corner, then it was gone. They stood up, looking in the direction that 
the car had gone.

"Well, I suppose *that* better get reported."

* * * * *

As soon as they reached Victor's apartment, he phoned in the shooting to 
the Agency. He listened for a moment, then hung up.

"So. What did they say?"

"They said that they would send forensics to collect the bullets outside. 
Nathan will start checking anyone who might have a grudge against me and 
is currently out of jail. In the meantime, we're to stay put."

"We?"

"We."

Mac groaned, and Victor was tempted to do the same. He was beginning to 
wonder if there was *anyone* who didn't know about the two of them. It 
wasn't a comfortable feeling.

In the meantime, he had a massive amount of adrenaline to work out, and 
from the way Mac was fidgeting, so did he. Victor watched him for a 
moment, then launched himself at the other man.

"oomph! What the...?" Victor decided to take advantage of the open mouth, 
diving in for a very thorough kiss. Mac resisted for a second, then 
started cooperating.

"Seems to me that *someone* is a little horny. What say we move this 
party into the bedroom. At least we know the camera in *there* isn't 
working."

"Assuming it's the only one. Don't care. Still, bed *is* a lot more 
comfortable. Let's go." Victor jumped to his feet, then dragged Mac up 
and into the bedroom. Once there, he threw Mac on the bed, then stripped. 
Just for the heck of it, he turned it into a show, teasing the young man. 
The grin - as well as the growing bulge in the dress slacks - told him 
that the show was appreciated.

Victor straddled Mac, and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. 
"*You* are wearing *far* too many clothes," he purred as he stripped the 
other man. Mac never seemed to dress casual. It was always fashion-plate 
suits, and silk shirts. It did make stripping him a lot of fun, though. 
He kissed, nibbled and sucked at each bit of flesh as it was revealed. By 
the time Mac was completely naked, he was doing a pretty good imitation 
of a puddle.

Victor was doing his best to rub himself all over Mac's body, when the 
younger man surged, and flipped him over. "I'll have to remember how much 
bullets flying turns you on, Vic. Maybe the next time we come under fire 
in an alley I'll just take you against the brick wall. Would you like 
that?" Victor moaned, as Mac sucked a hickey into life on his neck. He 
was *really* getting to like having an aggressive Mac in his bed.

Mac moved up his body to straddle his head. His cock was hard and 
flushed, right in front of Victor's face. He reached up and pulled the 
head into his mouth. Running his tongue around the edge, he listened for 
the moans to tell him what were the right places that night. 

"Oh, yeah! Just like that. Suck it hard." Mac dug his fingers into 
Victor's hair, not finding much purchase in the short-cropped locks.

Victor exercised his tongue, energetically, letting Mac control the 
rhythm, only using his hands to keep the eager hip thrusts from going too 
far. The dirty talk just encouraged his efforts to new heights. It didn't 
take long for Mac to explode, and Victor swallowed, milking it out as 
long as possible.

Mac slid back onto the bed, a boneless heap. Victor rolled him on his 
side, facing away from him, and slid his own neglected cock between Mac's 
thighs. The other man froze.

"Nothing you don't want," he whispered in an ear. "Just squeeze your 
thighs together, that's all. Oooh!" He began thrusting, muscled thighs 
providing the friction necessary. Each thrust bumped at the back of Mac's 
balls, causing groans. After he finally came, he snagged his shirt to 
wipe them up. Then they curled up in the tangled nest of covers and to go 
to sleep.

"I *definitely* need to remember how much gunplay turn you on," Mac 
muttered in a sleepy voice as he drifted off. Victor just grunted, in a 
completely satisfied way.

* * * * *

"Well, as yet there are no leads on who fired on you last night. Nobody 
has been released from jail recently that might bear a grudge." The 
Director prowled behind the three operatives, frowning. "The markings on 
the bullets don't match those used in any other crimes that the computer 
can find. Neither of you saw the license plate numbers on the car, and 
there were no witnesses - not surprising, considering the hour." She 
raised an eyebrow, silently commenting on just *why* the two men were 
out at such an hour.

"Of course, even though the shots were fired in front of Victor's 
building, there is the possibility that they were intended for Mac." She 
leaned forward to purr in his ear. "After all, Mac recently made a 
mistake that let the Tangs know that he and Li Ann were still alive. 
Mr Tang *might* still be angry enough to send someone after him." She 
pinched his cheek, hard enough to make him wince.

"Of course, if it *is* the Tangs, then Li Ann will also be a target. As a 
result, we will need to be more careful. Jackie, you will be moving in 
with Li Ann, for the time being." She ignored the groan from the petite 
oriental, and the grin from the blond ex-mob queen. "As for you two boys. 
Obviously Victor's apartment is compromised, so, for the meanwhile, you 
will move in with Mac. I'm sure neither of you will object." She patted 
Victor on the shoulder as she went past. The two men sighed, then nodded. 
"Good. In the meantime, you still have a job to do, so get moving."

She smiled watching them leave. Sometimes she felt like such a 
matchmaker. But, they still needed to find out who wanted one of her 
operatives dead, which one and why. She called in Dobrinsky, with the 
files, and prepared for a long afternoon.


----------------------------------------
Innocents
by Lianne Burwell
March 1998
----------------------------------------

Victor got out of his truck with a sigh. Getting away from the Rivers had 
been a relief. A night spent drinking "ta-hootie fruitie", as they called 
it, watching the "boys" play twister and trying to fend off the roving 
hands of Mrs. Rivers had been worse than his idea of hell. But then, that 
was why the Director had sent him there.

But he'd finally managed to make a graceful escape, without upsetting any 
of that crazy family. Hopefully he'd be able to avoid running into them 
in the future. Now he was finally heading for home and bed. More 
specifically, *Mac's* home and *Mac's* bed. He'd been living there since 
someone had tried to kill one, or both, of them. There had been two more 
attempts since then, but only when they were together, so they still 
didn't have a clue who the actual target was for. In case the Tangs were 
behind it, LiAnn had stayed with Jackie for a couple of weeks, but there 
had been no moves against her, so they had been able to go back to 
seperate apartments before they managed to kill each other, but Mac and 
Victor were still living at Mac's place.

Not that he objected, of course. He was using it in his campaign to 
convince Mac that what they had was more than just sex, and could last 
long-term.

He paused at the door, remembering what had happened when the Rivers boys 
had pointed the guns at them, apparently about to obey Mr. Smith's orders 
to kill them. He remembered the sudden tug at the cuffs joining them as 
Mac pulled them around so that Mac was facing the guns and Vic was on the 
far side of the pillar.

Mac may *say* that he didn't love Victor, but his actions said otherwise.

* * * * *

Mac was finally drifting back to sleep. Having the Director show up in 
his bedroom, wearing vinyl and lace, was like something out of a 
nightmare. She thought that leaving him was the punishment. Truth was, 
having her *in* the bed was more of a punishment. Suddenly, he felt the 
other side of the bed dip, and he threw himself off the wide, grabbing 
for a weapon. This time she was *not* going to paw him.

"Hey! What the..."

"Vic?" He poked his head up over the edge of the bed, not letting go of 
his gun. He sighed in relief when he saw his partner, putting the gun 
back in the side table.

"Of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

"Well, an hour ago it was the Director, so you tell me." Mac climbed back 
into the bed and pulled up the covers. "Never mind. I just want to get 
some sleep." Mac closed his eyes, curled up on his side facing away from 
Victor. He couldn't help smiling, though, when a warm, naked body pressed 
up against him. He started to drift off again.

"Mac?"

He groaned. "What?"

"Why Angie?" He could hear curiosity, with a tinge of pain. He rolled 
over to face Victor, trying to figure out how to put it into words.

"It wasn't *who* she was, it was *what* she was." Mac could tell that 
Victor didn't understand. "My earliest memories were of my father using 
me as a prop in one of his cons. While I was still a kid, he disappeared 
one day, leaving me alone on the streets of Hong Kong. The Tangs took me 
in, but immediately started training me as a thief. I was a cynic before 
I even knew the word. LiAnn was sold to a brothel by her parents when she 
was a child. When old man Tang bought the building, he sent all the girls 
home, but he adopted LiAnn because she tried to pick his pocket. Neither 
of us was ever innocent." He could feel the comprehension dawning in 
Victor.

"Then there's you. Ex-cop who's seen everything. None of us are 
innocents. OK, you're naive at times. Too trusting, but not innocent. No 
one in this damned organization is an innocent!"

"But Angie was."

"I know, it sounds crazy. But... for a while... I mean, they were like 
something out of a sixties sitcom, even if they were thieves. For a while 
I could pretend... I know... it doesn't make much sense..."

"It makes a lot of sense, Mac. I understand." As the arms wrapped around 
him, pulling him in tight, Mac realized that Victor was telling the 
truth. He did understand. Just like his experience with the mob let him 
understand how Mac and LiAnn felt about the Tangs.

"Vic?"

"Mmm?" came the sleepy reply.

"About stealing the diamond..."

"It was fun, wasn't it?" Mac could almost *see* the grin in the dark.

Yep. Vic understood.

* * * * *

Victor woke the next morning to warm sunshine streaming through the 
windows and the delicious feeling of someone licking his nipples. He 
shifted with a sigh.

"It's about time you woke up, old man. I thought the elderly were 
supposed to need less sleep."

"Watch the 'old'. I'm not *that* much older than you." He bit back a moan 
as Mac's chuckle vibrated his nerve endings. Mac switched attention from 
one nipple to the other, while wrapping one long hand around Victor's 
cock.

He kept trying to participate, but Mac was doing a very good job of 
keeping him distracted. Obviously the young man was in a playful mood. 
Finally Victor gave up on trying to show any initiative, letting Mac have 
his way. He moaned when he felt slick fingers start to probe him. He 
moaned again when they stopped.

"What...?"

"Why... why do you act like that feels good?"

Victor struggled for coherence. "'Cause it *does*. God, Mac, please... 
Don't stop!" The fingers started moving again, while a tongue teased at 
his erection. It didn't take long for climax to rush in.

Mac wrapped around him, as he labored to regain his breath, lights 
flashing behind his eyelids. Mac was *damn* good at that.

"Vic?" He opened his eyes to look at Mac. "How can that feel good?" He 
sighed.

"Mac... Did you know that there's as many nerve endings in your ass as 
there are in your cock?" Mac shook his head, looking confused. "Properly 
done, anal penetration can be as enjoyable as having someone stroke your 
cock." He could see the disbelief on the other man's face.

"Michael..." He could see the flinch on Mac's face. "When he penetrated 
you, what sort of preparation did he use?" Silent confusion. "You stretch 
me before penetration. Did he do that for you?" Head shake. "Did he use 
lubrication?" Another head shake. Victor sat up, suddenly.

"You mean he just went in dry!?" Nod. Victor felt the rage spread. 
"Christ, Mac. Did sex with him ever *not* leave you ripped and bleeding?" 
Head shake.

"Oh God! No wonder you don't understand. You've never had the *right* 
kind of experience."

"Show me?" Victor looked over, shocked. Mac had never offered before.

"Mac... we don't *have* to... I don't *need* to..."

"Please. I've been wondering... You *look* like you enjoy it..."

"Because I *do*!"

"And I want to see *why*. Please?"

Victor sighed. It *was* something he wanted, but Mac wasn't really ready, 
no matter what he might say. He could feel the tension in the lean body. 
But maybe they could work up to it.

"How about just fingers, for now?" Mac seemed relieved, disappointed and 
tense, all at the same time. "Relax. Nothing you don't want, just like I 
promised before. Now, why don't you roll onto your back and try to relax."

Mac did roll over, but tension was written all over him. Victor knew that 
if Mac *didn't* relax, he wouldn't be *able* to enjoy it. He got out of 
the bed and went into the bathroom to grab a bottle of baby oil. Climbing 
back into the bed, and poured some into the palm of his hand.

"Mac, I'm just going to give you a massage. It'll help you relax."

"You make a *damn* good masseuse." The humor in the tone was promising.

"Oh, I have *lots* of talents."

He started with the feet, moving his way up, keeping his touch firm, but 
soft, not trying to arouse. He stopped at the top of the thighs, not 
approaching the groin, then started from the neck and worked his way back 
down. Mac was soon purring under the attention.

"Roll over so I can take care of your back."

Mac rolled over, but some of the tension had returned. He had expected 
that. Again he worked the legs, up to just below the curve of the ass, 
then moved up to the base of the neck. He was straddling Mac, but propped 
himself up high enough that his own genitals wouldn't brush against the 
body beneath him.

This time he didn't stop when he reached Mac's ass. Instead, he continued 
to massage, using firm, but impersonal strokes. Gradually he slowed them 
until they were more light caresses. He let his hand drift closer and 
closer to the crevasse between the cheeks. Mac didn't seem to notice, 
been half-asleep again. Victor rubbed his thumb, lightly, up and down the 
crevasse until Mac was squirming.

"Does that feel good?" A moan was the only answer, so he increased the 
pressure slightly, still not doing more than rub across the sensitive 
anus. When he pulled his hands away, Mac made a noise of protest.

"Easy. I'm just getting some more oil on my hands." He made sure that his 
hand was well coated before he went back to the stroking motion. This 
time, though, he used even more pressure, and rubbed his index finger in 
a small circle around Mac's anus.

"Mac, I'm going to slip one finger in. It won't hurt." Mac tensed 
slightly, but nodded. Victor kept up the circling motion, pressing harder 
with each pass, until the tip of his finger slipped past the tight 
muscle. Victor held still until Mac realized what had happened. As he 
realized there was no pain, Mac relaxed. Victor started moving the 
finger, ever so slightly, in a thrusting motion. Mac moaned.

When he felt Mac trying to move back against the finger, Victor started 
moving it in a circle, loosening the anal muscles. Once he was happy with 
the slackness, he added a second finger, keeping to the same motion. He 
couldn't tell if Mac had noticed the addition.

He crooked the fingers, searching, until Mac bucked under him. Bingo!

"Oh God!"

"That's your prostate. Remember how good I said it makes you feel? Am I 
right?" Mac didn't answer. He was too busy thrashing around at the 
sensation.

"Mac, roll over again." Mac protested as the fingers slipped free, but 
turned over, obediently. His cock was fully erect and leaking. Victor 
slipped his fingers back into Mac's ass, then bent his head to take in 
Mac's cock. By this time, the young man had lost all semblance of 
coherence.

Victor knew that Mac wouldn't last long, so he set himself to bringing the 
other man to orgasm. When Mac froze, arching up off of the bed, he was 
yelling Victor's name. Victor moved to pull Mac into his arms, nuzzling 
at his face and neck.

"Well?"

"That was... incredible. It was..." Mac stopped, obviously unable to find 
the words.

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?"

Mac snorted. "You don't have to be so damned modest about it."

Victor just grinned. "C'mon. It's almost time to get going, and we both 
need a shower."

* * * * *

Mac was whistling as he got out of the sports car. It had been a great 
day. They'd stopped a gang that had developed a new, and highly-addictive 
drug. Then, when they'd reported back to the Director, he had learned 
that Dobrinsky had gotten food poisoning, and would be off for a week. 
Now, the day was done, he was home with dinner from his favorite Hong 
Kong style restaurant. From the pickup truck parked a few spots down, it 
looked like Vic was already upstairs. Life was good.

He was headed for the stairwell when three men came out of the shadows. 
Somehow, he didn't think they were there just to say 'Hi'. Maybe it was 
the ski masks rolled down over their faces.

"Let me guess," he quipped as he carefully placed the takeout bag on top 
of the car next to him. "You're in town for a Thugs-R-Us convention."

The only response was an attack, coming from three directions 
simultaneously. Mac lashed out with a snap-kick, striking the man on his 
left in the solar plexus, dropping him to the ground immediately. Without 
stopping, he spun to strike at the second man.

Unfortunately, he wasn't able to move fast enough to stop the blow from 
the third man from impacting with the back of his head. As he went down, 
the first kick hit him in the ribs. Thankfully, everything quickly went 
black after that.

* * * * *

Victor was putting one of his tapes into Mac's ridiculously over-powered 
sound system when he heard the thump against the apartment door. He 
froze, pulling his gun from it's holster. Mac was late, and he was 
starting to get a little worried.

He went to the door, and peered out through the peep-hole. Nothing. He 
eased the door open, gun ready and safety off. What he saw shocked him.

"Mac!?"

* * * * *

Mac slowly swam back to consciousness. He could hear voices.

"How is he, doc?" Victor. God, he loved that voice.

"Two broken ribs, and three cracked. Sprained wrist. Massive bruising, 
but no internal bleeding. Probably concussed." Ouch. Sounded like someone 
got put through the wringer. Oh, yeah. *He* was the one who'd been put 
through the wringer.

"But he's going to be all right, isn't he?" LiAnn. You'd almost think she 
was worried about him.

"Yes. He just needs time to rest and recuperate." That was a relief.

"Mac. Wake up." The Director. Of course she'd be there. He managed to 
pull his eyelids open. They felt like they were made out of lead.

"Mac. Who attacked you? Did you see them?"

Answering was difficult, but he managed. "Three men. Waiting. In the 
garage."

"Describe them."

"Black."

"Negro?"

"No. Black pants. Black shirts. Black jackets. Black gloves. Black masks. 
Black."

"Can you give me something a *little* more useful?" She sounded 
exasperated.

"Shorter. Couple inches. Well built. Like Vic? Similar." He thought about 
it for a moment. "One. Blue eyes. Others... brown. One oriental? The 
eyes. I think..."

Suddenly, staying awake required too much effort, and he drifted away 
again.

* * * * *

"Mac? Mac!" The doctor pulled the Director away, ignoring the glare she 
aimed at him.

"You'll have to leave now. We'll keep him overnight for observation, but 
he should be able to go home tomorrow." With that, he firmly pushed them 
from the room.

Out in the hallway, the Director nodded at the agency stationed outside 
the hospital room. "Well, I'd say we now *know* that Mac is the target. 
LiAnn, start pulling the records on every case Mac has worked on. Look 
for anyone who might match the descriptions Mac gave." She paused. "Pull 
Mac's prison records too. See if anyone with a grudge from Hong Kong has 
been released recently. Victor, work with the forensics team checking the 
parking garage. When Mac goes home tomorrow, stick to him like glue. I 
have no intention of loosing any more agents this year. Love was bad 
enough. Now *move*."

They moved.

* * * * *

Late that night, the window to Mac's hospital room opened, and a figure 
stepped through. If anyone had seen, they would have been amazed, since 
the room was on the fifth floor, and the windows weren't supposed to be 
able to open.

The figure stepped to the bedside and looked down at the sleeping man. 
The mouth curved into a cruel smile, and a hand reached out to caress 
the bruised face. Then the intruder turned, and went back out the window, 
sealing it again. Only one word had been spoken.

"Soon."


----------------------------------------
Choices
by Lianne Burwell
May 1998
----------------------------------------

Mac took a deep breath, releasing tension with it, and moved into the 
opening moves of the kata. Move flowed into move, block and counter, and 
his mind emptied as he flowed around the room, until he had reached peace 
at the completion of the exercise.

But then he stepped out of the final position and winced. He still hurt 
from the beating he had taken, and the events since then hadn't helped. 
He felt... unsettled. Like he was facing disaster. Or facing a choice.

Choices.

Like hanging from a burning rope, terrified that he would drop. Even 
more terrified that the antenna that Vic was hanging from would give way, 
Waiting for LiAnn to choose who to save.

When she chose to save Vic, he hadn't been sure *what* to feel. Relief 
that Vic was safe? Anger that LiAnn had made her choice, and it wasn't 
him? Or just fear as the rope gave way? As he grabbed for the brick face 
of the building, he could hear Vic calling his name. When he pulled 
himself up onto the roof, the tear tracks on Vic's face had shocked him

LiAnn had practically jumped through hoops, trying to make it up to him 
later. He hadn't done much to reassure her. Like he'd said, you can't 
unmake a choice. He was more concerned about Vic, though he tried not to 
let it show. The tough ex-cop had clung to him in silence that night. 
Then they'd been thrust into a new assignment before they could really 
deal with what had happened.

And what an assignment. Guarding a drunk who wasn't a drunk. Harry had 
played them all for patsies, including the Director. Assassin delivery 
boys, feuding sets of children, neither batch terrible bright, a crime 
lord's legacy, a bomb, and LiAnn having to chose who to save. Again.

Only *this* time, she *hadn't* chosen. She'd turned her back on the two 
gunmen, trusting her partners to save her. If they hadn't both had backup 
guns that Harry *hadn't* know about... She'd taken a terrible chance. 
Both she and the Director had said something about there always being 
a third door, whatever *that* meant.

And no sooner was that done, one of Vic's old choices had come back to 
haunt him, and Mac hadn't been able to be there to help him. Instead, 
he'd had to guard a ditzy fur-coat designer at his own apartment. A ditzy 
designer who was dating one of the Cleaners, the Agency's top assassins. 
She'd drugged him and handcuffed him to the bed with a message written in 
red on his *feet*, for crying out load. Even worse than that was having 
the Director show up to let him look. As far as he could tell (and he 
wasn't trying very hard), all she'd been wearing was that fur coat, 
stockings and high-heeled shoes.

It was weird, but he'd never known how Vic got dragged into the Agency. 
Turned out that he'd been in the same boat as Mac. They'd both been 
forced into a choice by their "families" - the Tangs for Mac and the 
police for Vic. They'd both ended up in jail as a result of that choice - 
Vic because he'd been framed by his "family". They'd both been offered a 
choice by the Director to join the Agency or else - else Mac would be 
released onto the streets of Hong Kong where he'd die, and Vic would 
*stay* in jail. They'd both chosen the Agency,

He still wasn't sure why *LiAnn* had joined the Agency, though.

But Vic's choice had come after him, and had nearly gotten him killed. Of 
course, that wasn't as bad as getting shot by a gang of *clowns*, but 
still... He'd woke Mac with nightmares the night before. He was brooding 
and moody. Mac had found a copy of a picture of Vic in uniform (good 
thing he lost the mustache) on the coffee table that morning. Someone - 
probably Vic - had drawn a clown's face on it. A sad clown. Mac was 
worried sick, but he didn't know what to do about it.

Mac headed for the Agency showers. This time of the morning the place was 
empty, so he didn't have to worry about anyone else turning on a shower 
or flushing a toilet. As a result, he could turn the water on as hot as 
he liked. He waited while the heat relaxed sore muscles. A glance down 
showed the last bruises fading from his body. He still kept his ribs 
taped, but he was almost healed.

Choices.

There *was* a choice that he'd been thinking about. One that scared him, 
thrilled him, made him flush with heat. A choice that had been a while in 
the making. A choice he thought he was finally ready to make.

Tonight.

* * * * *

Victor rolled over in the bed and looked at the clock. His attempt at a 
nap had been a dismal failure. Insomnia was making his life hell.

Closing his eyes just led to a steady stream of nightmarish images. Mac 
lying in the hallway outside the apartment, beaten to within an inch of 
his life. Mac in that hospital bed. Mac hanging from that burning rope. 
Mac falling to his death, even though *that* hadn't happened. Not to 
mention those *damned* clowns!

Add to that his run-in with his old copy buddies/betrayers, and it was 
obviously leading to a lot of sleepless nights. He'd even considered 
taking sleeping pills, except that Mac's attackers were still on the 
loose. Not to mention whoever had cut through the hospital room window. 
They wouldn't even have known about *that* if Dobrinsky hadn't leaned 
against it, sending the glass plummeting to the ground. Thank God that no 
one had been underneath the window.

Mac would be home soon, once he finished the errands that the Director 
had sent him on. With attacks at both apartments, it hadn't really 
mattered where they slept. They didn't even *have* to buddy up any more, 
but they did, automatically, when they weren't playing bodyguard to 
someone. They switched back and forth between apartments on a whim. 
Tonight, they were staying at Victor's place, because he wanted his own 
kitchen. He planned on cooking dinner for Mac. His last attempt, while 
they were guarding Harry, had been a disaster, but that was because Mac's 
kitchen was woefully under-stocked.

Well, he might as well get started, rather than lie here and brood. 
Victor rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen.

* * * * *

Mac opened the apartment door and stopped, letting it swing shut behind 
him. The air was filled with the scent of... curry? It smelled pretty damn 
good, too. He locked the door behind him, then moved further into the 
apartment. The dining table was laid out with linen and fine china. Vic 
was lighting the candles.

"Great! You're just in time."

He stepped in close and pulled Mac into a deep kiss. When he stepped away 
again, Mac had to stiffen his knees to keep them from buckling. Vic was 
too damn good at that. Vic brushed a finger across Mac's lips, and he 
couldn't stop them from parting. Couldn't stop his tongue from darting 
out to tickle the finger.

"He was wrong," came a whisper.

"Huh?" Thinking was not really a priority when all the blood had rushed 
to the groin.

"Harry. He called LiAnn 'the exotic beauty with lips that could change 
weather patterns'. That doesn't describe her, it described *you*."

Mac was embarrassed to realize that he was blushing. Then Vic stepped 
away with a grin.

"Anyway, dinner is ready, so sit!"

* * * * *

Mac was surprised at how good dinner was. Curry chicken, saffron rice 
with raisins, a drink made with yogurt instead of wine or water. It was 
completely unlike what he usually ate, but it was *good*. Plates were 
cleaned, compliments were made, the disaster of a kitchen was cleaned. 
Low music played on the stereo providing a pleasant backdrop.

Nothing was said, but they moved as one towards the bedroom. Mac stripped 
Victor first. The dress shirt in that ridiculous shade of green came off 
first, followed quickly by his undershirt. Then his jeans were undone, 
and slipped down over his hips. Mac knelt to remove them, taking Vic's 
shoes and socks off with them. He nuzzled at Vic's cock for a moment, 
amazed at how natural it felt now. Back when he was in prison he'd had to 
fight to keep from being *made* to do this, but here he was, eager to do 
it. Maybe that was the difference. It was his *choice* now.

Vic pulled him to his feet and proceeded to kiss him senseless. Then he 
pulled at Mac's clothing. Silk shirt and dress pants were removed from 
his body, and tossed in a corner. He knew he'd have to take them to the 
dry-cleaners to get the wrinkles out, but he really didn't care right at 
that moment.

The bed had been freshly made with crisp, clean linens, and the covers 
had been folded back in anticipation. Mac shifted, enjoying the contrast 
between the cool sheets beneath him and the warm body above. He gave into 
the sensations, not caring if half the Agency was watching them. They'd 
taken to sweeping both their apartments for bugs and cameras, especially 
the bedrooms and bathrooms, but just because they'd found some of them, 
that didn't mean they'd found them *all*.

But that didn't matter. He was too busy memorizing Vic's body with his 
hands again. Every inch was touched and caressed. Mac knew that no matter 
what he said, he had fallen hard for Vic. All pretenses otherwise were to 
protect himself against the inevitable pain when Vic changed his mind. 
He was sure that if LiAnn beckoned, Vic would go back to her in a flash. 
He said he wouldn't, that Mac was the one he loved, but still...

But that didn't really matter right now. He'd take what he could get. 
What mattered now were choices. Mac rolled them both over and reached for 
the lube sitting on the bedside table. He took Vic's hand and poured some 
into it. Vic smiled as he reached out to coat Mac's cock, but the younger 
man fended him off. Instead, he landed back on the mattress beside Vic 
and rolled onto his stomach, pillowing his head on his forearms.

Vic hesitated. "Are you sure about this Mac?"

Mac nodded. "I'm sure. I want to. Just... go slow, okay?"

Vic leaned over and kissed his partner's shoulder blade. "Slow and 
gentle. Nothing but pleasure," he promised.

Mac tensed a little as the slick fingers teased at him, but he relaxed, 
remembering how much he'd enjoyed having Vic's fingers in him before. One 
finger, then two. That was familiar. Three fingers, though, brought on a 
moment of pain, and he tensed up, but Vic was patient, stroking his ass 
cheeks and gently sliding his fingers so that they rubbed his prostate, 
until he was loose and relaxed and moaning.

Then the fingers were gone, and he felt the peculiar sensation of cool 
air inside of him. The space was quickly replaced, though, with something 
large and solid, hot and slick. He groaned and shifted, then froze as he 
realized what it must be. He reached back, feeling his way with his 
hands, to find that Vic's cock was already a couple inches inside of him. 
They held still for a moment, while Mac discovered that it didn't hurt. 
Then he pushed back, and Vic slipped in a little further.

Inch by inch they moved, until Mac could feel Vic's balls against the 
curve of his ass. For long moments they held there, Vic with his arms 
wrapped around Mac, until neither could hold still any more. Vic started 
to thrust, slow and gentle, like he had promised. The slight friction 
not stopped by the lube, caused a warmth that spread through Mac' mid-
section. Then there was the electric shock of his prostate being touched.

Mac pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, wanting to get better 
leverage, and starting pushing backwards into the thrusts. A slick hand 
gripped his cock, drawing a shout from him. They were moving faster, now.

"Vic! I can't hold on any longer!" His muscles trembled with the strain 
of trying to hold back. The hand on his cock picked up the tempo.

"Then come for me, Mac. Fill my hand up. Come for me, love."

A tongue licked the sweat from his neck, and Mac arched and shuddered, 
calling out Vic's name. He could feel his muscles spasming around Vic's 
cock, buried deep inside of him, and felt a flood of warmth inside. Vic 
had come too. This was nothing like he'd ever felt before. Like fire 
rushing through him, burning but not harming.

When Vic pulled out, Mac couldn't suppress a moan of disappointment. Vic 
pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Did you enjoy?" There was a small tone of anxiety in the other man's 
voice.

"Mmmmm..." Mac replied, satisfaction plain. Maybe they were right. Maybe 
you *did* just need the right partner.

As he drifted to sleep, he heard Vic murmur against his forehead.

"Love you."

But he was asleep before he could respond.

* * * * *

"See! I told you."

LiAnn pushed back from the table and the listening equipment there. When 
Jackie had taunted her, claiming that Mac and Victor were lovers, she'd 
refused to believe it. But Jackie had claimed that she'd gotten an earful 
when the Director had told her to run surveillance on Mac, and had 
offered to prove it. She'd accepted, not expecting it to be true.

"So they're lovers. So what?"

Even to her own ears, she sounded defensive. Jackie just smirked, and she 
had to fight the urge to wipe the expression off the blonde's face.

Okay, so she was still a little confused about how she felt about the 
guys. After all, she'd worked like hell to keep Mac from marrying that 
blonde bitch with the nuclear grenade. But then she'd run to save Victor 
when she'd had to choose who to rescue first.

She was still trying to figure things out, and she'd foolishly thought 
that the guys would wait until *she* had decided. The fact that neither 
seemed to date a woman more than once, and even seemed to try to *avoid* 
women, except for her, had just reinforced that assumption. Finding out 
that they were... together. That changed... everything.

Distracted, she left the room, not bothering to notice the appreciative 
once-over that her "partner" gave her as she left.

Once she was gone, Jackie put the earphones back on and leaned back in 
her chair. After all, they sometimes went for a second round later.

* * * * *

In another room, at another table, a man pushed back from a video screen. 
On it, in fuzzy black and white, two men lay on a bed, wrapped around 
each other so tightly that the watcher couldn't tell where one ended and 
the other began, fast asleep. He picked up his glass and drained it. The 
glass impacted the wall, hard, spraying the area with tiny shards.

"You're *mine*, Mac Ramsey, and I keep what is *mine*."


----------------------------------------
Family
by Lianne Burwell
May 1998
----------------------------------------

Mac watched with a grin as Vic continued to shower advice on his little 
sister. Alice - or Allegra, as she preferred to be called - took it all 
in stride, just rolling her eyes as her brother continued to warn her.

"And if there's any problems, *call* me. I'll be there as fast as a plane 
can get me there."

"Give me a break, Moose. I'm quite good at taking care of myself, you 
know."

"Right. That's why you were delivering a bomb."

"I didn't *know* it was a bomb!"

"No, but you were at Pinball Couriers because you overheard us talking 
about them and bombings at the same time. Put two and two together, 
Alice."

"Allegra!"

"Whatever."

Luckily, Alice's flight was called at that moment, so Alice hugged her 
brother, then hugged Mac.

"Take care of him," she whispered.

"I do my best," Mac whispered back. He and Vic had taken her out to 
dinner before the flight and it hadn't taken her more than a couple of 
minutes to figure out what was up between her brother and his partner. 
She hadn't even blinked at finding out that her big brother was bi, just 
said it was cool with her.

The both waved, cheerily, as she boarded the plane, then turned to head 
for Vic's truck. Mac slung an arm around his partner's tense shoulders.

"Cheer up, Moose," he said, ignoring the muttered 'Don't call me Moose'. 
"She'll be fine. This Leadership Corps has an excellent reputation. I 
checked."

Vic looked a little surprised at that. "I know," he said. "It's just... I 
don't like the Agency taking such an interest in her."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Director was going on about how 'promising' she was, using 
aliases at such an early age, and all."

Mac frowned for a moment. "You think she plans on recruiting Allegra - 
sorry, Alice - in a few years?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't *like* the Agency. It uses assassins. It uses 
blackmail to get its agents to work for them. Even when it does good, it 
still scares me, and I don't want them anywhere *near* my little sister."

"I know what you mean. Well, I'm sure that between us, when the time 
comes, we'll be able to figure out a way of preventing it."

Vic smiled at that. "C'mon. Let's get going. I have been going nuts, not 
being able to be with you while Alice was around. Not to mention having 
to watch her throw herself at you at every opportunity."

"Hey, she only did it once. Besides, she already figured out that we were 
sleeping together."

"She did?" Vic stopped dead, turning a deep red. Mac just grinned and 
dragged him towards the truck.

* * * * *

Despite Victor's comments, they ended up spending a very quiet evening. 
Victor was watching the late news - something he did almost religiously. 
Mac was lying on the sofa, his head on Victor's lap, reading a book in 
Chinese. Victor didn't know what it was about, and he was almost afraid 
to ask. After all, Mac might *tell* him. But, all in all, the scene was 
positively *domestic*.

Mac shifted against his thigh, then put the book down.

"Vic."

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering..."

"Yeah?" Victor turned his attention to Mac. The younger man sounded... 
uncertain.

"I was talking to Alleg... Alice while you were checking on her flight. 
She said something about you leaving home real young. She said it had 
something to do with your dad. What was it? I mean, you don't have to 
tell me anything, if I'm out of line. I don't exactly have the greatest 
father-son relationship in the world, but I wondered... Never mind. 
It's none of my business."

Victor lay a finger of Mac's lips to stop the flow of babble. "I don't 
mind. We just didn't get along. I wasn't the son he wanted. He wanted a 
doctor, or a lawyer - someone he could show off to the neighbors. I 
wanted to be a cop, which *wasn't* something he considered brag-worthy. 
We fought a lot. When I was eighteen, I told him I'd been accepted at the 
police academy, he took a swing at me. Almost broke my jaw. I walked out, 
and never went back. The only time I ever heard from him after that was 
when I got put on trial. He wrote a letter to tell me what a dismal 
failure I was, and how disappointed he was in me, and saying he no longer 
*had* two sons, just one."

"Just one? You have a brother?"

"Yeah. He's a couple years younger than me. Jonathon. He's a sleaze-bag 
corporate lawyer. Just the sort of son that dad wanted. Anyway, Alice was 
only about two when I left home. Mom sent me letters and pictures, so 
that I could stay in touch. I wrote Alice a lot, and whenever dad was out 
of town on business and Jonathon wasn't around, I'd take Alice out for 
the day. Just because dad and I didn't get along, didn't mean I didn't 
want to be part of my sister's life. That ended when I went to jail. I 
hadn't seen her since."

"Well, now that she knows what you've been up to, you can keep in touch 
again."

"I know. I just wish she were going to be... closer."

Mac rubbed his cheek against Victor's leg. "C'mon," he said. "It's late, 
and we need to get to work in the morning. Bed-time for Moose."

"Don't call me 'Moose'." But Victor was smiling as he said it.

* * * * *

Mac rolled over, and off the bed.

"Hey, what the..." He sat up on the floor, sputtering, then froze. This 
wasn't his bedroom. It wasn't Vic's bedroom. It was...

Hong Kong Prison. His old cell.

"Wake up Ramsey. Time to go."

Mac looked up at the shadowy figure in the guard's uniform. "Go? Go 
where?"

"Where do all convicted criminals go?"

Mac turned around, slowly. Behind him was an electric chair. He whirled 
around to find himself back in that nut case's kangaroo court.

"You have been found guilty of crimes against society, and the penalty 
is... death."

The guards grabbed his arms and dragged him towards the waiting chair.

"No. This isn't happening. It's just a dream. It's just a dream," Mac 
repeated to himself.

"Excuse me."

Mac looked to see the Director. "Thank God!"

"You don't think you can stop us, do you?"

The Director frowned. "Why would I stop you? He's just a criminal, after 
all. And a rather incompetent one, too. And as a agent, he is a dismal 
failure."

"I left the family because of him, and look where it got me." LiAnn?

"And, like, he's just so *lame*." Jackie?

"Wait a second," he protested. "They're going to *kill* me. You can't let 
that happen!"

"C'mon, Ace. Take it like a man." Dobrinsky.

"You don't think the Agency cares, do you? You're just a jackanape 
agent." The Cleaners.

Mac's head whipped around, but everyone was ignoring him. No friendly 
faces, until a figure stepped out of the shadows. Mac sighed in relief.

"Vic! You gotta help me!"

"Why should I? C'mon, Mac. You've been using me for all these months, 
after all. Good old Vic. Great in bed, but that's all I want."

"That's not true! I love you!"

"You never said so before, so why should I believe you now?"

"Because it's true!"

"No it isn't. 'The sex is great, I can't deny that. But don't try to get 
serious, cause we both know it won't last.' Isn't that what you told me? 
No. I need someone who *really* loves me. Who'll commit to me. Someone 
who'll be there for the long run."

"I'll be there," Mac whispered, his face crumpling.

Vic stepped back, and LiAnn and Jackie immediately latched onto him. He
slung his arms around the shoulders of the girls and watched, 
expressionless, as the guards strapped Mac into the chair.

"This isn't happening. It's just a dream," Mac told himself. "This isn't 
happening. It's just a dream. This isn't happening. It's just a dream."

He was still repeating the phrase when they pulled the lever.

* * * * *

"Mac. Mac! Wake up!" Victor shook the shoulder of his thrashing bed-
companion. Mac sat up suddenly, almost knocking him over. "Mac! Are you 
okay?"

Mac shook his head and ran a hand over his sweat-covered face. "Yeah. 
Just a bad dream. Sorry I woke you."

Victor was a little dubious. "You wanna talk about it?"

Mac looked like he was going to say no, but then he slumped back onto the 
bed. Victor pulled him against his chest and cuddled him.

"Memories."

"Michael?" Victor could have kicked himself. He shouldn't have given in 
to Mac that night. Mac had enjoyed the sex, but the trauma was so deep-
set...

"No. Prison. And that fake courtroom. The chair. It was all muddled 
together, They were going to kill me. Everyone was there, but no one was 
going to save me. Not even you."

Victor flinched. "Yes I would."

"I know that. It was just a dream. Personal fears, and all that. But you 
know what really got me? The Cleaners."

"The Cleaners? You dreamt about the *Cleaners*? Now *that's* scary."

Mac snorted. "They said 'You don't think the Agency cares, do you? You're 
just a jackanape agent.' And they're right. The Agency doesn't care. They 
blackmail us into working for them. They pay us next to nothing. The 
Director told me, once, when I complained about her having keys to my 
apartment: Your clothes, your life. The Agency owns it all."

Victor shivered - it was an accurate, but uncomfortable idea - but Mac 
went on. "And what do we have to look forward to? Winning in the Agency 
Awards? That's bullshit! We've only seen two cases, so far, where people 
were allowed to retire, and that was because they were too nutso to be of 
any use. Let's face it, Vic. If we continue with the Agency, all we 
*really* have to look forward to is an early grave.

"And it's changing us. A few years ago, LiAnn wouldn't have hit me. At 
the couriers, when I asked you to hit me, to keep my cover intact, you 
hesitated. She didn't. She almost knocked me unconscious. That's *not* 
the old LiAnn. It made me wonder: if I stay here, what am I going to 
become. I don't like that thought. I..." Mac sighed. "I want out, but 
they aren't going to allow it, will they?"

Victor closed his eyes. "No. I don't think they will."

"Sometimes I get a little scared, thinking about it."

"Me too."

They lay together, quiet, after that. Mac's head resting on Victor's 
chest, over his heart. Victor's cheek resting against the dark hair. As 
he drifted back to sleep, Victor felt, more than heard, a soft voice 
against his chest.

"And I *do* love you."

But they were both asleep again before he could respond.

* * * * *

When Victor opened his eyes, bright sunlight was streaming through the 
windows. Mac was still curled up, half-blanketing him. He looked over at 
the clock.

"Shit!" he said, sitting up. "We're late. *Really* late."

Mac sat up, rubbing at his face.

"Huh?"

"We were supposed to be there more than an *hour* ago. C'mon, partner. 
Move!"

Victor tried to hurry his Mac up, but didn't have much luck. Bathroom, 
brush teeth. Then Mac headed for the shower.

"We don't have *time*," he snapped at Mac.

"Too bad, Vic. I'm covered in dried sweat, and I stink. I am going 
nowhere without a shower. You could use one too, y'know. C'mon," he said 
with a grin. "We can share. Save water, and all that."

Victor knew it was a bad idea - the two of them in a shower inevitably 
led to... - but he let Mac coax him into it. They *did* both smell a 
little strong, and they didn't have time to take separate showers, but...

They deliberately kept the water temperature tepid, to try and wake 
themselves up. Victor started to use a sponge to soap himself up, but Mac 
took it out of his hands and started to do that for him.

"Mac... We really don't have time for... mmm..."

Mac was ignoring him. First Victor's back was covered in suds. Then, Mac 
pressed up against Victor's back and reached around to wash his front. 
The strokes were firm, and no-nonsense, but they left his skin tingling, 
and his cock was rising at attention. The erection pressed up against his 
backside felt like it was burning hot, compared to the water.

When he was done, Mac pressed the sponge into Victor's hands and stepped 
back.

"Your turn," he said with a grin.

Following Mac's lead, Victor started with the young man's back and legs. 
Like Mac, he used business-like strokes that left the skin clean and 
pink. He was pleased to note that a swipe up the cleft of Mac's ass 
resulted in a shiver, but not the terrified tensing that might have 
occurred a month or two ago.

When he was done with the back, he turned Mac around and leaned him up 
against the shower wall. He put fresh soap on the sponge and started on 
the chest. The thick, dark hair held a lather beautifully. The sponge was 
run along the underside of Mac's arms, and Victor leaned in to take a 
deep breath, inhaling the scent of soap and Mac, a heady combination. 
Next was the stomach, and Victor slowly dropped down to his knees. As he 
washed Mac's legs, he leaned forward to nuzzle the erection in front of 
his face, making Mac groan.

"Damnit, Vic! Drop the damn sponge and get up here."

Grinning, Victor stood up and pressed Mac further into the tiled wall. 
Kissing, they started to move against each other, already lubricated by 
the cool water and remaining traces of soap. Neither one of them was in 
the mood to drag it out, so they traded off sucking on each other's 
tongues, while their hips moved together in a rhythm that was very 
familiar now and when orgasm came, it was very, very sweet.

They clung together under the spray, letting the water wash away all 
traces of their activities. Victor chuckled.

"Now we are going to be *really* late. The Director is going to be really 
pissed off. And she'll probably know *exactly* why we're late"

Mac snorted. "So what's she going to do? Fire us? But let's get going, 
Moose."

"Don't call me Moose!"

* * * * *

The Director looked up as Mac and Vic entered the room. "You're late," 
she snapped. "Sit down."

They took their seats, across the table from Jackie and LiAnn. Mac was 
trying to cover a grin when he noticed that Jackie was smirking at them, 
almost leering. LiAnn looked... uncomfortable.

The Director stood up and walked around the table, a bundle of envelopes 
in her hands.

"Well, children, it looks like we have a lead on who's been trying to 
remove Mac from the game."

All four agents sat up. In the weeks since the first shots were fired at 
Mac, no clues had been found, even *after* he'd been put in the hospital.

"Well?" Mac asked, a little impatient at the Director's casual posing.

"It seems that someone you... know... was released from Hong Kong prison 
two months ago. He arrived in Toronto three days before the first attack, 
then disappeared. We have people looking for him, as well as trying to 
find out how he would have known you were here."

"And this person would be..." Mac prompted, getting more than a little 
annoyed.

"Kevin Chang."

Mac gave a sharp exhalation, like he'd been gut-punched, and slumped back 
in his chair. The other three just looked puzzled. The Director turned to 
them.

"Kevin Chang was in prison for drug smuggling. While there, he developed 
a taste for handsome young men, and a *dis*taste for 'no's. According to 
the prison records, he tried to... attack Mac. The result was a broken 
arm, a broken jaw, two cracked ribs and a badly twisted knee. On his 
part, that is. Mac was only bruised, and was put into solitary 
confinement at that point - for his own protection, of course. That was 
about a week before I went to see him. Apparently, Chang was quite 
miffed about the whole business. Swore revenge, and all that." She gave 
an airy wave of the hand, eyes focused on the folder in front of her.

"Anyway, here's his information. Do keep an eye out for him."

She slid a bundle to each of the agents, then left the room. Vic opened 
his and winced. "Ick. 5'11", built like a professional wrestler, scar 
down the right cheek, tattoo of a dragon across the neck. You're not 
going to miss seeing *him* walking down the street."

"No," Mac said. "He's rather... unmistakable. And he *wasn't* one of the 
men who attacked me. Doesn't fit the body types."

"Well... maybe he hired some muscle."

"You've got to be joking. Not his way of working. He prefers to do his 
dirty work himself. Enjoys it to much to give it to someone else."

LiAnn frowned. "Well, maybe he *knew* you'd recognize him. Whoever it was 
obviously wanted you to survive. Maybe he's... playing first?"

The two men glared at her. "*That* is a *gruesome* idea, LiAnn."

"But a possibility," she shrugged.

All of them stared at the pictures for a long moment. Finally, Vic spoke 
up.

"Well, let's keep our eyes peeled."


----------------------------------------
Agents and Agencies
by Lianne Burwell
June 1998
----------------------------------------

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 protg, but the 
girl was so nave 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

