by Demi-X
Despite the fact that his surroundings are completely foreign to him,
actually, he doesn't even know what kind of building he is in; only that he is
indoors. Mac turns toward a darkened corridor that has suddenly become visible
to him and begins to run in the direction of the soulful cries. The agent is
consumed by a single-minded goal; he needs find Victor and free him. And based
on the sound of Vic's pitiful voice, Mac has no doubt that his partner is
suffering from some kind of torture. It's no matter to him that he does not
know where Vic is, all he cares about is that his partner is in danger and he
has to save him.
At the end of the long dark hall, Mac sees a lone door, painted red. And
immediately he realizes that it is from behind the red door, which Victor's
screams are coming from. Mac runs faster, but no matter how swift he goes, he
is unable to make any headway in getting closer to the door. It feels as if he
is just running in place on a treadmill. He starts to grow tired, and a fine
layer of sweat has broken out on his forehead, as well as between his shoulder
blades. But Mac continues to press on. He hears Vic's pleas for help, now
muffled, he increases his speed even more with renewed determination.
Eventually the physically fit agent grows just too tired to keep going on,
and just when Mac is about to give in to his exhaustion, he finds himself
directly in front of the red door. Reaching out with his hand he tests the
brass knob even though he has a feeling that it will be locked. Mac is proven
correct when the knob will not budge under his grasp.
Suddenly, on the other side of the door, Vic's screams stop all together.
Unnerved by the eerie silence, Mac draws his leg back and putting all his
weight into it, gives the door one hard kick. The wooden structure is no match
for his strength and it gives way easily, the frame becomes splinters of dark
wood that fly every which way.
Mac immediately draws his weapon before crossing the threshold. In a small
room beyond, he sees a single dirty mattress that has no sheets on it, it is
resting on a simple wooden bed frame. And on the filthy mattress is Victor.
Jack is on the bed too, he is straddling Victor's nude body at his waist.
Mac can see bruises marring Victor's pale face, clearly showing the beating he
has taken at Jack's hands. In addition, Victor's eyes are closed and his body
is unmoving. Since he is mostly hidden by Jack, Mac cannot even tell if Victor
is still breathing.
Jack turns around and looks casually over his shoulder at Mac, seemingly
unconcerned over the fact that someone has just walked in on him. Unsure if
Victor is dead or merely unconscious, and very afraid that it is the former
rather than the latter, Mac's hands waver slightly in nervousness. However, he
still manages to spit out in a cool and controlled voice, "Get your filthy
hands off of my friend or else, you bastard."
Mac tightens his grip on his gun and aims it deftly for the spot right
between his enemy's ice-blue eyes. He is confident that if Jack doesn't comply
with his wishes, then he will kill the man without even blinking an eye. And
not lose a nights sleep over it either.
"Or else what...Mac?" Jack says to the agent, tauntingly.
"How do you know my name?" Asks Mac, momentarily confused.
"I know your name-you pathetic excuse for a partner-because I beat it out of
Victor here." For emphasis, Jack grabs a handful of Victor's short hair and
gives the unconscious man's head a few hard jerks.
Mac winces as he sees Victor's neck snap back and forth lifelessly like a rag
dolls, but he remains silent and continues to glare at Jack, trying not to let
his resolve to kill Jack at all costs waver.
"You see Mac, Victor's life is in my hands and my hands alone, and there
isn't a damn thing you can do about it," Jack intones cryptically. "His sanity
rests solely with me. Even though I'm dead, I can still choose to haunt him in
his dreams whenever I like. I can drive him insane if I want to. I can drive
you crazy too for that matter. Your words cannot comfort him, they're useless.
You have only yourself to blame for failing him, you know. You were too
late in saving him from me. It was you who left him alone and unable to defend
for himself. It's your fault...partner... he's so screwed up now. He'll
never be able to forget the memories of our time together. He's mine Mac. Mine
and mine alone. Forever and ever. Victor Mansfield will always belong to me,
mind, body and soul." Jack laughs haughtily.
Mac watches in horror as Jack turns toward Victor whose eyes are now open
but unseeing, and brutally bites into his right cheek; defying Mac and his gun.
"NO!" Mac screams and without calling out a warning to Jack, he pulls the
trigger over and over again. Riddling the psychopaths back with bloody bullet
holes. Jack falls over and Mac slowly lowers his gun, proclaiming to the dead
body calmly, "He's mine"...
Mac's bedroom.
Mac bolted upright in his bed, panting and sweating. He couldn't believe how
vivid his nightmare had been. It seemed so real; he could still feel the
warmth of the automatic's steel in his hand and the lingering odor of blood and
gunpowder in the air.
Sighing heavily Mac reached over and turned on the small lamp that sat on his
bedside table. He glanced at his alarm clock and grimaced at the time. It was
only five in the morning. Mac pushed back the covers and swung his legs over
the edge of the bed.
I'm up now
Knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep after that dream, he
decided to just get up completely and go over the break-in plans one more time.
As he got out of bed and headed for his bathroom, Mac tried to make sense of
what 'Jack' had told him. He wondered why Jack had mentioned in the dream that
he would drive him insane along with Victor. Mac knew enough pop psychology
to understand that he was most likely projecting how he really felt about not
being able to help Victor with his situation with Jack; the dead psychotic.
He had to admit though, that ever since Victor told him about what happened,
he could think of nothing else. In fact, he had been downright obsessive about
the whole thing, mulling over the sad and gory details again and again.
Mac had gone to bed the night before with visions of Victor being strapped
down and assaulted. And he had fallen asleep to a fantasy about how he alone
had been the one to find Victor, fantasizing that he had been the hero who
kicked in the secret door and shot Jack in cold blood. Stopping the brutal
man in mid-motion as he beat his defenseless friend with the belt. He had
imagined then, that when he ran to Victor to gallantly free him of his
restraints, that his partner willingly wrapped his shaky arms around Mac in
sheer gratitude, kissing him deeply. Expressing his relief at finally being
saved.
Mac shook his head to clear it. He guessed that if he did continue to obsess
over Victor's story, he really could end up driving himself nuts.
As he stepped into the hot spray of his shower, Mac had no doubt that his
nightmare was the cumulative result of listening to Vic's story earlier and his
personal reactions to the whole sordid account. He turned up the temperature of
the water, trying to scald the after effects of the bad dream away.
"Quit resisting me, you cheap whore, and take your clothes off."
Hisses Jack contemptuously.
Victor, on his knees in the corner of a cell, is cowering away from Jack's
proximity; his back against the hard cement wall. He can feel moisture
trickling from his nose, and when he sticks the tip of his tongue to his upper
lip, Victor can taste his own blood in his mouth. The room that they are in is
completely black except for two bright bluish-white spotlights that are shining
down from somewhere above. One spot is on him and the other is on Jack,
illuminating just the two them and nothing else.
Jack starts walking toward Victor and the spotlight moves along with him.
Victor is both tired and hungry. He's had enough of Jack and his games and
although he his humiliated in begging Jack to stop hurting him, he does so
anyway.
In a small voice he pleads, "N-n-no. Please. I can't. I just can't." Victor
knows that he should try to make a run for it, but he is frozen in place by
fear of what is to come next. Jack is now looming directly over him with a
needle; a needle Victor knows, is full of poison. It is that particular poison
in which he never wants to feel pulsing through his system ever again.
Although he is afraid to stand up and do as he is told, Victor is more afraid
of what will happen if he does not obey. After a few seconds more of
hesitation, he stands up on trembling legs. He wipes away the sweat that has
formed on his brow while looking left and right surreptitiously for an escape
route that will take him away from this nightmare. Realizing that there isn't
one, Victor reluctantly pulls his T-shirt over his head, his hands shaking.
He turns his head away and looks into the darkness as he undresses,
embarrassed by Jack's wolfish stare. Victor knows he can't spare himself the
shame of undressing in front of this sexual predator, who is his jailer. But
Victor thinks that he can at least evade Jack's direct gaze by turning his head
away.
Unfortunately for him, Jack knows what he is up to. "Look at me when you do
that!" He commands. " I want to see my reflection in your pretty green eyes."
He takes another step closer to Victor and is menacingly waving the needle full
of the potent drugs in front of Victor's face.
Victor tries retreating backwards, away from the drugs. But the cement
wall that is behind his bareback prevents him from doing so. Victor silently
wishes that his body would just melt into the cement. But it is to no avail,
secret wishing cannot help him now. Knowing that it was the way he looked that
had made Jack want to abduct him in the first place; Victor can't help damning
his parents for cursing him with dark green eyes instead of a pair of generic
brown ones.
The agent stares straight ahead at the command and concentrates on looking
through Jack and not at him. With his vision slightly blurred by his watering
eyes, Victor moves his cold hands to his belt and undoes the small metal
buckle. Then, with a quick flick of his fingertips, the top button of his
slightly worn blue jeans is easily undone. Victor tries to delay the
inevitable a few seconds longer by pulling his zipper down slowly, one tooth at
a time.
When his pants are completely undone, he becomes aware of Jack's reaction to
it; the other man is running his tongue over his lips in an explicit display of
arousal.
Victor hesitates while pulling down his jeans, and wonders briefly if any
good would come out of asking Jack to shoot him full of drugs now. It would be
nice to have them sink into his system now, so that they can knock him out
before Jack begins his assault. He doesn't want to be conscious to feel what
Jack will be doing to him nor does he want to hear the biting insults he knows,
Jack will be flinging at him in order to shame him.
As he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, Victor also wonders
if today will be the day that Jack will bend him over and actually rape him. He
wouldn't be surprised if it were, since Jack has already done just about
everything else to him. But before Victor can pull his jeans down all the way,
Jack suddenly moves in even closer and with one hand grabs the agent by the
throat, squeezing tight enough to partially cut off his air supply.
Panicked, Victor's hands automatically shoot up to grab Jack's thick
wrist, trying to deter him. But the protective gesture is in vain. The odds
were against Victor from the beginning of his captivity; he body has been
weakened by hunger and lack of sleep whereas Jack is obviously rested and well
fed.
Eventually, realizing the futility of fighting, Victor drops his arms back
down to his sides in surrender. His little act of defiancé angers Jack even
more, so he slams Victor's head against the grey wall in retaliation. The force
of the blow is hard enough to make Victor see star bursts explode before his
eyes.
With his steel cold eyes locked onto Victor's slightly unfocussed eyes, Jack
leans his face in close and says, "Your mine Vic-tor. I own your spirit; now
and forever. You will always remember me and what we did together."
Jack laughs cruelly at his own words and then gives Victor a brutal kiss;
it's a lip-crushing kiss that is sure to leave Victor's mouth bruised. He bites
into Victor's soft, full, bottom lip hard enough to open up the tender flesh
and draw blood.
When Jack finally pulls his head back, Victor can tell that he is turned on
even more by the wound that he has made on his lip. Victor can also feel
Jack's erection rubbing up against his abdomen. The psychotic man still has
the bottom half of his body pinned against the wall with his own. Victor
wonders if it is the sight of his deep, red blood that has made Jack hard or is
it just because Jack is hurting and humiliating him again that has caused his
arousal.
Feeling nauseous, Victor swallows hard and inhales sharply through his nose,
in an attempt to keep his gorge down. But since Jack's hand is still
restricting Victor's air passage, his breath ends in a heavy gasp instead. He
begins attempting to suck in large mouthfuls of oxygen, but he succeeds in only
taking in a minimum amount of the air that his body requires. Victor's head
begins to swim, and before long he begins to see planets in addition to the
stars before his eyes. He can feel his consciousness slowly ebbing away.
Afraid of what will happen to him if that actually happens, Victor attempts
to reach deep within himself to find a small bit of courage to fight back with,
but it is too late. He can already feel Jack plunging the sharp needle into his
biceps, its potent contents burning as they pass into his body and enter his
blood stream.
Victor winces at the discomfort caused by the needle, and Jack leans in one
more time to suck on his bloody bottom lip. Victor's knees begin to buckle from
the effects of the drugs and he slowly starts to slide down the cement wall.
He can barely register the fact that the cement wall is tearing the fresh
scabs off of his damaged back; the pain it causes comes to him as only a dull
throbbing ache.
The last words he hears before passing out completely is Jack telling him
that he is going to wish he was dead by the time he's done with him. Victor's
eyes flutter close and as his forehead makes contact with the cement ground in
front of him, he wishes that he were dead too...
5:00 am
Victor, still unsettled by the disturbing nightmare he had experienced in the
middle of the night was sitting on a wooden chair and starring out of the
sliding glass doors that led to his balcony.
That nightmare, like all the others that he had experienced, was very
intense. He had felt everything so clearly: from the coldness of the wall upon
his back to the warmth of the open wounds, to the blood running down his spine.
It had all seemed so real.
When he was finally released from the scary depths of the bad dream, Victor
had gone straight to his bathroom and looked into the mirror. To his dismay, he
saw that at some point during his restless sleep, he had actually managed to
tear the scabs off of the two deepest welts that ran across his right shoulder
blade.
Both sores were bleeding freely. He'd managed to clean the wounds and
bandage them up, doing the best that he could to staunch the flow of blood
before leaving his bathroom to return to his bedroom. Despite only managing to
get just over three hours of sleep, he did not even attempt to go back to his
bed after seeing the blood in his sheets.
Instead, he padded to the dining room and grabbed a chair, placing it before
his balcony doors. He pulled open the blinds and seated himself so that he
could watch the deep Cimmerian night slowly begin to lighten to a dark blue,
signally the onset of dawn.
In an effort to try not to think about the event that had made his sleep
restless and laden with images he just as soon forget, Victor concentrated on
going over the information Nathan had given him the day before again and again.
He was trying to memorize every word, every detail. He wanted to go to the
Agency prepared, he knew if he and Mac failed at their endeavor then it would
be over for both of them. Victor wanted to be primed and ready, if only for
Mac's sake. He was apathetic when it came to his personal safety, making sure
the mission went smoothly would ensure Mac's safety. He did not want to let
his partner down. Their task was really no different from the other ones
they've had before; Victor had every intention of fulfilling his end of the
mission to a letter.
Mac would need muscle to back him up and he would definitely be there to
watch his back, making sure no one would come along and stumble upon them,
catching them unaware.
As Victor continued running through his mind all possible scenarios that
could occur, the sky began to lose its dimness, making way for an early morning
sunshine that broke over the surrounding buildings and shone directly into
Victor's face.
Made it through another night with most of my sanity intact.
Victor looked at his watch. It was six o'clock in the morning already, he
decided that he might as well get started on the day. Rising from his seat, he
winced at the pins and needles he felt in his bum from remaining seated for so
long. He started for his bathroom, intending on taking a shower, but instead he
ended up veering for his laptop computer that was sitting in the corner.
He had been thinking of Mulder off and on for several days now. He wanted to
know if Mulder had been thinking of him as well, so giving into his curiosity
he opened up his portable computer and after plugging in his modem, logged onto
his server. Victor opened his e-mail program to check his mail. He was
surprised to see that he did in fact have one piece of mail waiting to be read.
When he called up the mail, Victor was greeted with a sound wav window. He
pushed the play button and immediately, Pink Floyd began singing a verse from
their song, "Wish You Were Here":
How I wish
Victor sighed melancholically, then he read the short note on the screen:
V. Heard this song and thought it was appropriate, considering how things
turned out for us. I wish it could have been different spy guy.. To find the
one person that suited me so well, only to lose him because we are
geographically incompatible...hurts. But who knows, Vic, maybe one day we will
both become disillusioned with our respective occupations and give them up.
Until then, I can only think of you and what we had. Victor, you took a
lifetime of pain and made it disappear for me; even if it was only for a couple
of hours. It's really no small feat considering the details of my life which I
never got around telling you about; after all, I didn't want to scare you off
too soon. We will meet again Victor. I promise. And when we do, it will be for
good that I know. Take care of yourself, Vic. Please do that for me. Tell Mac
I said to watch your back...or I'll kick his ass. Yours in mind and soul even
if not body, M.
Victor typed a similar letter in response to his former lover and then logged
off and snapped his laptop shut. He stood, stretched and headed for the
bathroom, glad that he had decided to check his mail. Mulder's letter had, in
an odd sort of way, cheered him up considerably. At least he now knew that
Mulder wanted to keep in contact with him, even if it was only by e-mail.
Victor turned on the water and stepped into the spray, his thoughts still on
Fox Mulder. As he lathered himself up, Victor began to imagine that it was Fox
who was lathering him up, just like he had done before in this very shower just
a few short weeks ago. Victor began to slowly run his fingertips up and down
his torso—from the bottom of his aching balls and erect, throbbing cock to
his sensitive nipples. He closed his eyes and fantasized that they weren't
his own hands touching his body but rather Mulder's...
Mulder was pinching Vic's nipples, alternating between squeezing the
two brown nubs between his index finger and thumb and running his forefingers
over the sensitized flesh he had captured between them. Victor's breathing
became faster and heavier. After awhile, he felt Mulder releasing his nipples
and then saw him sinking to his knees to engulf his engorged, leaking cock.
Victor sighed loudly and twined his fingers around Mulder's wet hair. Victor
began pushing the back of Mulder's head with his hands, encouraging his lover
to increase his rhythm. Mulder obeyed accordingly and before long, Victor was
sucked, nibbled and licked to an orgasm. Mulder deftly swallowed all the jism
that Vic's intense orgasm produced, his hazel eyes staring up into Victor's all
the while, as he continued to deep-throat him and swallow his cum...
Victor released his cock. He felt sated and was more than a little pleased to
find out that at least Jack didn't invade his conscious thoughts or fantasies
against his will.
He felt a little lazy from orgasming so hard so Victor turned off the hot
water and finished his shower with a skin numbing cold blast to wake himself up
completely. Once done, he quickly stepped out into the steamy room and toweled
himself dry. Victor rubbed away a spot in his fogged over mirror to look at
himself. He noted in disgust that the circles under his eyes were even darker
this morning than yesterday morning. Frowning at his own reflection, but
knowing he could do nothing about the circles now, he simply shrugged and
reached for his shaving gel.
The Coffee Shop
7:45 am
7:45. Vic's late.
Mac noted as he looked at the numbers on his digital watch. Every time the
door to the small cafe opened, Mac would look up from his paper anxiously. When
the small bell over the door jingled for about the twentieth time, suggesting
that yet another patron had entered, Mac once again looked up and smiled at the
sight of Victor who was looking around the restaurant, apparently searching for
him.
When Victor spotted Mac, he gave his partner a bright smile and with a nod of
his head started to walk over to the table. Mac watched Victor as he moved
toward their table. Even though he was still a small distance away, Mac could
see the dark circles under his partner's eyes, which stood out stark and
menacing against the soft pallor of his skin. Obviously, Victor had not had a
good night's sleep again. Mac was a little disappointed that despite his
promise, Victor had not in fact called him up as he had promised to do if he
were to suffer through another bout of insomnia.
When Victor finally reached their table and slid into his seat, Doreen the
waitress, whom Mac had a hard time flagging down earlier, was immediately at
the table with a fresh pot of coffee almost. She poured a cup of the dark brew
for Victor before turning to Mac and asking with a fake smile, "More for ya,
son?"
"Yes, please. Thanks, Doreen." Mac smiled back, his sincerity just as
feigned.
Doreen poured Mac's coffee, ignoring the fact that she slopped liquid over
the rim in the process. She turned to Vic and beamed. "What'll it be,
handsome?" Mac saw that the smile she had for Victor was genuine.
Mac groaned audibly.
obviously he eats here all the time.
Victor flicked his eyes over at Mac. He thought for a second before
replying, "Eggs over easy, bacon and sourdough toast. Hash browns-extra crispy
please."
Doreen flashed her teeth at Victor then began to walk away.
Mac stared after her in astonishment; he could not believe that she had
totally disregarded him. Trying to get his first cup of coffee out of her had
been like trying to extract impacted wisdom teeth and now she just completely
'disses him after taking Vic's order. Victor, who had arrived later than he
did!
The old bitch!
Mac decided right then and there that next time, they would meet in one of
his regular haunts; he hated being treated like he was the invisible man.
Doreen probably has the hots for Vic. Figures.
Mac hmmphed quietly. Noticing the expression on Mac's face, Vic chuckled and
called out to the waitress on his behalf.
"Uhh, Doreen, honey?" Victor called flirtatiously. Doreen turned around at
the sound of his voice immediately.
"Yes, Sweetie?"
"My friend would like to order too." Victor smiled up at her and showed her
his even white teeth.
Disgruntled, Mac grimaced and gave Vic a I-just-bet-you're-loving-this-look
before saying to Doreen, "I'll have the same as him." He figured that would
probably be the only way to ensure that his order would get to their table
while it was still warm.
Doreen nodded in acknowledgment and as she walked away, Victor laughed
heartily.
"Do you know...," Mac began, "...that until you came I had to nurse my first
cup of coffee because I was afraid she would never come back?" Mac grinned at
Victor. "Don't ever bring me here to eat again. What a dump!"
"You're such a snob Mac." Retorted Victor, cheerily. "Besides, the food's
worth the abuse, trust me. The waitress may be terrible, but the cook is
awesome. You'll never eat a more perfectly done egg in your life, and the hash
browns are to die for." Victor put his fingertips to his lips and then made a
kissing sound as he pulled them away.
Mac laughed, glad that Victor appeared to be in such good spirits this
morning. "How are you doing? Did you sleep well last night?" He asked, his
mood suddenly changing from slightly pissed off to worried.
Victor deflected Mac's comments with a wave of his hand, not wishing to dwell
on the subject of his lack of sleep last night. To linger on it meant he would
have to think of Jack; something he definitely did not want to do today if he
could help it. His thoughts were already full of Fox Mulder and ways to
break-in to the Agency. "I'm fine, don't worry. What kind of a plan did you
come up with?" Vic asked, changing the subject quickly.
Mac searched Vic's eyes for a second before pulling out some graph paper on
which he had drawn a small map of the director's office, the hallways leading
to the office, and the surrounding air shafts. He highlighted the air shaft
that they would use to sneak in. Mac flattened the papers on the table and
began to recite his plan. "Okay, here's where we'll enter from the
outside..."
Part Seventeen: Walk softly and carry a big stick
The coffee shop
When the agents had finished going over the plans for their break-in, Mac
refolded the incriminating papers carefully and shoved them back into his pants
pocket. He looked across the table at his partner and noticed that even though
Victor had ordered a large breakfast, he had barely touched his food. In fact,
he had not even taken a bite from his eggs at all. Only the toast was gone;
Victor had downed it with three cups of strong coffee. Mac wondered if Victor's
lack of appetite was due to the previous night. Victor still hadn't explained
the dark circles and when Mac asked him about them again, all Victor did was
change the subject instead of answering.
Uninterested in his food, Vic pushed his full plate aside. He motioned to,
and she immediately came over with a full, fresh pot of coffee to fill his cup
for the fourth time that morning. As he accepted another cupful, Vic kept his
good-standing in the restaurant by flirting overtly with the slightly heavy and
overly made-up woman.
Mac grimaced at the sight of the love-struck waitress who hung onto
everything Victor said to her.
She is waay out of her league. I can't believe she would seriously think Vic
would be even remotely interested. She's not even the right sex for him!
Mac thought. Nevertheless, it still bothered him that Vic would flirt
with her so freely, even though he knew his partner wasn't the least bit
interested. Mac hid the small pang of jealousy he felt behind his own coffee
cup. He drained the last of the coffee and banged the cup down on the table top
in frustration over every single thing in his life that he could not control;
Victor's affections and where they lay being one of those things.
The cup hit the Formica tabletop harder than Mac had intended, startling
both Victor and Doreen. Doreen jumped slightly at the unexpected noise while
Victor automatically reached inside his jacket with his right hand for his gun.
Once his brain realized that it was only Mac who'd made the noise, Vic
immediately pulled his hand back out a little and covered the move by
pretending to scratch his left shoulder instead. He chuckled lightly when he
saw that Mac was staring at him with a slight grin; Mac knew exactly what Vic
had been about to do. He would have done the same thing had it been the other
way around.
"Check, please," Mac said to Doreen in an overtly sincere voice, even
though he continued to scowl at her.
Doreen gave Mac a look that translated to You're an asshole before
turning her gaze back to Victor and smiling brightly. "Sure thing... Vic." She
glanced down as she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a bill. She
looked it over quickly, making sure she had the right one, and placed it face
down on the table in front of Victor. Turning, Doreen sashayed away without so
much as a backwards glance toward Mac.
Mac pointed his finger and raised his eyebrows at the retreating back of
the waitress, laughing as he announced to Vic, "That woman is not going to get
a tip out of my pocket."
Taking his eyes off of the annoying waitress, Mac smiled at Victor and
joked, "A little jumpy are we, Vic? For a second there, I was afraid you'd
shoot me."
Mac leaned back in his chair, making no motion to go for the check. He
crossed his arms across his chest and watched Victor's clear green eyes opened
up wide as he responded with, "Maybe I should have. Honestly Mac, the food is
good here. I don't want to get a bad reputation for being a difficult
customer just because I had you with me. And I suppose you expect me to pick up
the tab?" Victor smiled while pointing at the check; he blushed slightly when
he noticed the large heart drawn around the words "Thank-you, come again" which
was written in Doreen's large loopy hand writing.
"Damn straight. First of all, I think the check was meant for you in the
first place." Mac pointed to the large heart with the writing in it. Then he
said, "And second, I aint paying for being abused verbally and... and... and
lookingly by an uneducated, lovesick food server for the last two hours. And
if the food's so good, how come you didn't eat any of it?" Mac leaned forward
and looked directly into Victor's eyes seriously, waiting for Vic's answer.
"Too much coffee, I guess, it filled me up." Victor lied. He dropped the
subject, by standing up and grabbing the check as he did so. He reached into
the tight front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a few bills and a couple of
coins. He dropped a couple of two dollar coins onto the table top and then
headed for the cash register.
Mac stood as well and followed. After paying the bill, they left the
restaurant in companionable silence.
Victor broke the quiet by asking Mac, "Oh, by the way, how can someone abuse
you 'lookingly'? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Victor stopped at
his truck which was parked next to Mac's BMW and unlocked the driver's side
door.
"Lookingly... you know..." Mac gestured with one hand like Victor should
automatically understand what he meant by the word, "...lookingly. Like, she
gave me dirty looks and said nasty things to me the whole time we were there,
therefore, she abused me verbally and lookingly. What else would you call
it?"
Victor smiled and shook his head, he unlocked the door to his truck then
turned to face Mac who winked at him before putting on his sunglasses. "Follow
me home and we'll pull the equipment out and check it over." Mac opened his own
car door and hopped in. He revved up his engine and the pulled out of the
parking lot to make his way home.
As he watched the other man pull out, Victor was pleased that Mac had
managed to lighten his dark mood so easily. Climbing into his truck, he pulled
out into traffic and followed his partner.
Mac's storage cubicle.
Victor sneezed loudly, mumbling ìThank-youî to Mac's automatic bless
you.
He could see the dust motes, which had been disturbed by his and Mac's
presence in the storage room, floating lazily through the air. When he sneezed
again, the irony of the situation struck him, after all his sneezing was how
this whole thing had gotten started.
It was because of his apparent allergy and his use of an
evidence-tainted handkerchief in the first place that had brought about a chain
of events resulting in his being in this whole big muddled mess now. If he
hadn't sneezed into the handkerchief which had the saliva of the suspect of the
case he and his two partners had been working on, the mad bomber case, the
Director wouldn't have decided to 'punish' him by introducing him to Mulder.
Somehow she knew that he would become attracted to him and by that giving her
the chance to secretly videotape him and Mulder together.
Victor made a low sound of disgust as he was reminded that he and his two
partners had been pulled off of an active case while they were in the middle of
it just because of his mishap. He guessed the Director had probably given the
assignment to that other team-the one that had three members who resembled
Vic's own team.
They probably solved the case easily too.
After sneezing yet again, Victor pushed his negative thoughts aside and
concentrated on the here and now instead. He sighed again, softly this time,
and rubbed at his watery eyes. Being in the storage basement of Mac's apartment
building was making him nervous.
Even though he was with Mac, Victor couldn't help being dismayed by the
sight of the plain grey cement walls: their similarity to his previous place of
captivity haunted him. "You almost done?" Vic asked
irritably while he pushed the heals of his hands against his eyes, trying to
alleviate the persistent itch in them.
Mac, who was busy going through his 'stash', stopped what he was doing to
glance back over his shoulder at his partner. The sneezing, watery-eyed man
seemed fidgety. Mac looked around briefly before he realized the reasons for
Victor's discomfort; he straightened up before saying, "Yeah, that oughtta do
it." Mac stuffed a nightstick into the duffel bag Vic was holding for him which
was already full of other various gadgets Mac thought they might need for their
little break-in. He figured that if he had left anything out he could just
come back down for it later. He reminded himself that they would need to sort
out all their equipment and make sure it was all in good working condition
before they left for the agency.
Mac had told no one what he kept in his storage cell, even LiAnne was in
the dark. Now of course Victor knew but he trusted that Victor would keep its
contents to himself. Mac had slowly been collecting various items over the
years and squirreling them way because one never knew when one would need such
things. Michael Tang had taught him that it was always better to be prepared,
for anything and everything.
Victor was relieved when they finally left the basement and were back into
the brightness of Mac's apartment. Once inside, he dropped the duffel bag on
the rug and began pulling the assorted items out and setting them aside to
examine them.
Mac pushed the coffee table away and joined Victor on the floor. He picked
up the electronic box that he used to aid him in cracking safes and turned it
on, scrutinizing it for any malfunctions. Vic left the complicated equipment to
Mac and opted for checking the more simple but just as important gear instead.
He reached over and picked up a rope that was attached to two pulleys to check
it over. Each man was intent on their task. Silent and determined in their
work the afternoon passed quickly for the two partners.
The last slot turned and tumbled into place, a small click heard only
through the stethoscope Mac was using, saying to the agent that the safe was
now unlocked. Smiling through the darkness at the tall shadow that was Victor,
he whispered very softly into the small microphone that dangled in front of his
mouth, "Houston, we have lift off."
Mac gently eased the safe door open. Using a slim finger-sized flashlight,
he swept the interior of the safe. Moving aside two large boxes of Cuban
cigars, he resisted the urge to steal one or two of the large cylinders. Behind
those, he found that which he and Victor were seeking. Mac picked up the two
plain black plastic videotape covers and opening one up, read the label stuck
to the videotape inside. "Vic" was all it said. Mac checked the inside of the
second tape and saw that it said 'Vic II'. He removed both tapes and hid them
securely inside one of the deep pockets within his black utility vest. Mac
closed the empty cases tight and then very carefully put back everything to the
way that he had found it; he had no doubt that the Director would eventually
find out what they did, but he figured if he returned things to their original
place correctly then she wouldn't find out later, rather sooner.
Mac whispered into the mike to Victor. "Got 'em.î There was no need to say
anything else: Victor's audible sigh relayed back to him that he knew exactly
what Mac meant. "I'm coming back. Pull me in." Mac added.
On Mac's okay, Victor picked up the rope that Mac was dangling from and
pulled in the slack, aiding his partner in his return. When Mac reached the
top, Victor helped him unbuckle the harness to release him from the complicated
ropes. He then bound up the ropes quickly and stuffed it into a black knapsack
with the rest of the gear. He flung the bag around and settled it against his
back efficiently.
"Ready?" he asked Mac, who was busy looking around, making sure that they
had not given away their presence. Mac nodded his head. "All right then, let's
get the hell out of here!" Vic whispered emphatically. Mac took the 'point' and
lead the way out of the Director's office, with Victor watching their backs
from behind all the way out. The two men, silent as the mist, made their way,
swiftly out of the Agency.
Once back outside, both of them let out their breaths in a whoosh, relieved
that they had just successfully broken into the Director's office and got out
in one piece. Victor reminded himself to buy Nathan a case of beer, impressed
that the man's information was bang on the money.
Mac fell into step beside Vic as they walked the four blocks back to
Victor's truck. Victor had parked far away from the Agency as a measure of
insurance. He didn't want anyone from work to recognize his truck, thereby
linking him to this treasonous act of larceny. He also knew that the Director
would be sure discover their little crime eventually. It was only a matter of
when. Like Mac, he was just trying to preserve their ruse as long possible.
As they were walking down a dark alley Mac flung his arm around Victor's
shoulders and hugged him. "Yeah! We did it!!" he gushed in sheer jubilation at
what was, in his opinion, the ultimate heist of all time.
Victor laughed at Mac's enthusiasm, but before he could answer his partner
the sound of another male voice that spoke to them from the darkened shadows,
made them freeze. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here, Dave. Two
'lovers' out for a midnight stroll." The man spit the word 'lovers' out.
As he spoke a man stepped out of the darkness and into the dim moonlight.
The stranger was casually slapping a blackjack against his left hand. Another
man, presumably 'Dave', stepped from the blackness on the other side of Victor.
He had a black jack as well. Instinctively, Mac and Victor arranged themselves
so that they were back to back; each of them keeping their eyes on the man that
was closest to him.
Victor raised his hands palms up and stated coolly to the menacing man in
front of him, "Listen, you've got us mistaken for a couple of easy marks. I
promise that's not the case. Now put down those sticks before my friend and me
get really get mad and kick the shit out of you two." To emphasize his point,
Vic flashed a nasty, feral-like smile at 'Dave'.
"Yeah," Mac concurred. He took on an exaggerated southern twang in his voice
and drawled out, "We'll wring the red right off of yer skinny necks fer ya
all."
Victor laughed at Mac's jibe. 'Dave' and his friend, however, did not see
the humor in the witty insult.
Without warning 'Dave' swung the small club in his right hand and as
Victor feinted to his left in an attempt to stop the swing, Dave struck out
with his left fist instead and caught Victor in the side of his face with a
hard jab, causing Victor's nose and mouth to spurt blood. Victor fell to his
knees, temporarily stunned.
Mac turned his gaze toward Victor for only a split second in reaction, but
it was time enough for the other thug to make his move. Seeing his chance, the
guy swung his black jack at Mac, catching the agent unaware. The blow caught
him at the base of the skull, knocking him down and out momentarily.
Victor screamed, "Mac!" As his body became overwhelmed by adrenalin, they
took over and shifted him into an aggressive autopilot mode. Victor jumped up
from his kneeling position and kicked his assailant hard enough in the kneecap
that he actually heard it give way and make a sickening snapping sound. 'Dave'
fell to the ground writhing in pain and clutching at his shattered knee.
Vic bent over and in one swift motion, picked up the wriggling man's club
while simultaneously pulling his gun. Cocking it, Victor spun around and
yelled, "FREEZE!" at the partner, who had his
weapon raised and was about to strike the prone and unconscious Mac again. The
man had already kicked Mac a few times in the stomach, ribs and face; Victor
could see Mac's bright red blood trickling out of his nostrils.
The man froze instantly at the sight of Victor's gun. He dropped the club
and it clattered as it hit the ground. The unnamed man put his hands up in the
air and rested them on his head in the usual position taken by a 'perp' once
they have been caught.
"Take it easy man, no need to get all worked up," he said nervously as his
eyes darted from Mac to Victor to 'Dave', whom Victor was keeping pinned to the
ground by pushing on the man's damaged kneecap with one booted foot.
Victor was not pushing hard enough to truly hurt the man but just enough
to let him know he had better stay put. Not that the injured man would be able
to rise on his own anytime soon anyway with his kneecap crushed. Victor
pressed down on Dave's knee once more, making the man cry out in agony, before
backing away slowly. One tiny bead of sweat made its way down his temple. Even
though he was wired, Victor's face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. He held his
hands rock steady on his gun and his voice did not waver from the icy tone as
he commanded Mac's attacker to, "Collect your shithead friend and get the fuck
out of here before I change my mind and shoot both of you."
The other man scuttled over to his hurt friend and helped him to his feet.
As he dragged his friend away, the man looked back every few yards to make sure
that Vic had not changed his mind and decided to shoot them after all.
Victor waited until the men were completely out of the alley and out of
his sight before he re-holstered his gun and ran to his downed friend.
"Mac! Mac!" Victor shouted as he not so gently slapped the limp man's
bruised face in an attempt to revive his partner. Victor felt relief wash
through him when he saw Mac's eyelids flutter and then open up wide.
"I love you," Mac stated woozily as he blinked his unfocused eyes up into
Victor's concerned face.
Victor stared dumbfounded at his partner for a second before dismissing
Mac's words as nonsense. He guessed that Mac had probably been hit hard enough
in the head to cause a concussion and he knew that people who had been bashed
about in such a way usually didn't say the most sensible things. He chose to
ignore Mac's confession of love.
The lights blinked out on Mac again and he went limp in Vic's arms.
Alarmed that the guy with the blackjack had done some serious damage, Vic
reluctantly lay his partner down gently on the cold asphalt. He removed the
that he had been wearing knapsack and then his own coat. Bundling up the
leather into a neat package, he placed his coat underneath Mac's still head.
Victor rummaged through the knapsack for his phone and using his teeth, he
pulled the antenna out on the cell. Just as he was about to dial 911, out of
the corner of his eye he saw Mac wake up and rise shakily to his hands and
knees.
Before Victor could even dial the number; his partner started vomiting -
all over Vic's favorite jacket.
Victor dropped the phone to the pavement and knelt next to Mac. He reached
out one big, comforting hand and rubbed Mac's back as the man finished bringing
up every last bit of Japanese food that he had eaten earlier for supper.
Grimacing slightly at the sight of his ruined jacket, Victor turned his
face away at the sight and smell of the regurgitated food, but he kept his hand
where it was, running it soothingly over the arched back of Mac.
"I'm okay now," Mac said softly. "Don't call anyone. It'll only draw
suspicion to what we were up to earlier." He sat up on his haunches and wiped
his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he spit in to rid himself of the foul
taste still left in his mouth. Mac noticed that there was blood on the back of
his hand but he paid it no mind; it was his head that hurt the most—it ached
like nothing he had ever felt before. He knew the sensible thing to do was to
get himself checked out, but to call an ambulance would be too risky. And plus,
he didn't really trust doctors. He just wanted to get home, some where safe so
that he could assess the damages done to him on his own.
Mac looked up to Victor and gave the slightly blurry man a small lopsided
grin, "Way to save my bacon, Vic," he kidded softly. Then he reached up and
tenderly wiped away some of the blood that was still oozing out of the corner
of Victor's mouth. Mac looked at the small gout of blood on his fingers and
with a slight frown before he wiped it off on his dark utility vest.
Victor smiled back. Relieved that his partner seemed okay now, he
convinced that Mac was just ' a little out of his head' when he told him that
he loved him.
He probably doesn't even remember that he spoke
Picking up the knapsack and swinging back over his shoulder, Victor stood up
and helped Mac to his feet, letting the wobbling man lean on him for support.
After a few steps, he remembered something and leading Mac to large a
garbage bin, he helped him take hold of the side of the steel box for support.
"Hang on a minute will ya," he said to Mac.
Victor left Mac momentarily to go back to where his jacket still lay. He
plucked the offending garment up with the thumb and forefinger of one hand and
as carefully as he could, using only the thumb and forefinger of the other
hand, pulled out what effects he had in the pockets of the jacket. He returned
to the trash bin with it and then dumped the jacket into the large receptacle.
"Sorry about that man. I guess I should have aimed better, eh?" Mac said
sheepishly to Victor.
"Oh well, some bum probably won't care that it's been puked on. I think
I'll let you take me shopping to one of those fancy stores you're always going
on about and buy me a new one though." Vic raised his eyebrows at his partner
and laughed heartily before saying, "Come on, let's get out of here before the
cops come by and try to take a statement or something. I'll take you home."
Victor placed an arm around his partner and held Mac firmly to his side,
gripping the dazed agent firmly. The two of them started down the alley in the
direction that they had been originally been heading before they were waylaid.
Part Eighteen: The beginning of the end
"Welcome back, partner," Victor whispered gently into Mac's face.
Mac's eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings and finally opened. He
found himself looking up into Victor's concerned face. He smiled weakly in
reassurance not only to Victor but to himself as well. Mac was glad to note,
that he in fact, was not dead. However, at that moment, he only felt
half-alive.
"Hey," Mac whispered back softly before closing his eyes, shuttering them
with the back of his hand against the early morning light; which made his
throbbing headache pulse harder.
Relieved by Mac's return to consciousness, Victor smiled toward his
partner before turning away. He went into the bathroom to rinse out the
washcloth that he had been holding with cold water, he was using it as a
cooling pad for Mac's forehead.
As soon as Victor was out of the room, Mac tried to ignore the pain in his
head and attempted to stand up. On a pair of very wobbly legs, he managed to
pull himself to a semi-upright position before a wave of debilitating dizziness
washed over him, causing his weak legs too just completely give out. Luckily,
at the same moment, Victor was returning from the bathroom and was just in time
to catch Mac before he fell to the floor.
"Whoa... hey watch it. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Victor
asked, his voice a mixture of anger and concern, as he eased his partner
carefully back into bed.
"Ugh," Mac groaned. "Don't shout at me. My head hurts." The pain in his
head was so great that he barely had enough energy to raise his voice above a
hoarse whisper.
Victor frowned at Mac's still form then deftly bent over to scoop up the
washcloth he had dropped when catching Mac. He folded it neatly and placed it
on Mac's brow so that it partially covered the man's closed eyes. "I'm not
yelling," Vic stated quietly. "It just sounds that way because you have a
concussion."
Mac purred softly when he felt the cool cloth press against his heated
skin. "Ahhh, that feels better."
While keeping one hand on the washcloth to hold it in place on Mac's
forehead, Victor out with his other hand to pull over a chair that was standing
nearby, and plunked himself down in it. He sat watching Mac as the other man's
chest rose and fell slowly while the rest of his body remained unmoving. Mac
stayed that way for so long, that after a while, Victor started wondering if
maybe Mac had gone back to sleep. But on a closer look, he realized that his
partner was merely resting as Mac's breathing was too shallow to be asleep.
Probably just trying to calm the headache
Victor pursed his lips. He was about to ask Mac if he wanted some Tylenol
when Mac spoke out first. "I meant what I said you know," he said, his voice
barely audible. Without opening his eye's Mac flipped the cloth over, so that
the cooler side was against his skin.
Victor's eyes widened with unease.
Oh shit, please Mac, not the I love you thing.
"What? You mean about the cold compress feeling good?" Victor questioned,
pretending not to understand what Mac was talking about.
Mac sighed. "No. Not that, fool. What I said to you last night in the
alley." He hesitated for a second before going on, "You know... when I told
you I loved you."
Mac was glad that his face was partially hidden by the cloth for he was
sure that he was blushing hard enough for Victor to see the telltale spots that
were colouring his cheekbones. Even though he had been thinking about Victor
and the possibilities of them being together for quite sometime now, he never
had the courage to do anything about it. But when they were attacked in the
alley, the thought, This is it. I'm gonna die had raced across his mind and
Mac had been sure that time had run out on him before he could confess his
love. He was not afraid of dying, but he was afraid to die with so much
unfinished business.
So, needing to resolve his feelings before certain death, Mac had decided
to speak his heart to Victor. He surprised even himself when he admitted out
loud to Victor what he could barely admit to himself privately. It was
something he would never think to do under normal circumstances.
But then when he woke up in his own bed and discovered that he hadn't
expired after all, Mac realized that he would have to deal with what he told
Vic. The events of last night had made Mac realize that there were no
absolutes in life. And recalling the cliche` about death and taxes, he
definitely didn't want to find himself standing at the 'pearly gates' with
regrets of what could have been. So instead of blithely passing off the remark
as nothing, Mac decided to deal with the situation head on and confront Victor
about his feelings in regards to what was said in the alley.
Only now Vic wasn't reacting quite like he'd hoped he would.
Oh God, Victor doesn't even know what I'm talking about. Shit, shit, SHIT!
Defying the inner turmoil he was feeling, Mac used what energy he had to
maintain his calm visage. Removing the cloth from his face and tossing it
aside, he looked up and directly into Victor's eyes before going on, "I meant
what I said, Vic. I really am in love with you. I have been for quite
sometime now."
Mac stared at Victor expectantly, waiting to see if the other man was
going to say anything. When Vic did not answer but only continued to stare at
him with a dumbfounded and mildly horrified look on his face, Mac knew
instantly just how grievous a mistake he'd made by pursuing this.
Victor felt his stomach slowly sink as he tried desperately to think of what
to say—of how to tell Mac he didn't reciprocate his feelings; especially
since he was still clinging onto his relationship with Mulder.
Damn it, Why didn't I see this coming? How could have I been so blind to
Mac's feelings?
Victor chastised himself. He hadn't seen it coming because he chose not
to. He had been perfectly willing to overlook those three little words that
had been called out by a man half out of his head with pain and concussion.
How did Mac even remember that he'd said that?
Vic honestly wished he could tell Mac that he shared the same feelings
that he too loved him for more than just the friend and partner he was. Victor
had no wish to hurt Mac's feelings, however, he knew it would be better to just
tell the truth. No matter what. Victor believed that it would do neither of
them any good if he were to string Mac along and make him believe there was
something between them when there wasn't. Only problem was, he had no idea how
to go about telling Mac how he felt now.
In a last ditch effort to avoid dealing with the problem for just a little
bit longer, Victor hedged, "Mac... um, I... I don't think this is a good time
to talk about this. You're barely conscious and still knocked half senseless.
We can talk about it in the morning."
Victor stood up suddenly and glanced at his watch. "Geez, it's six in the
morning already!" Vic nervously exclaimed. "I better go... now that you're not
in any danger of slipping into a coma or... anything. I'll call you later on to
see how you're f... feeling"
He gave Mac a tight smile before turning away and heading out the room.
He was almost out the door when he was stopped by Mac's voice calling out
weakly, "Vic, don't go. We need to talk about this."
When Victor hesitated, Mac implored, "Please, Victor," as he pulled
himself up to a sitting position. "I won't be mad I promise you," he added.
Victor hesitated, stock still his hand remained on the doorknob as he
seriously contemplated walking out. In the end, he turned around and went back
over to the chair he had been sitting in and turned it around so that he sat
straddling its back. Vic looked at Mac with eyes that were large and sad,
begging the other for understanding. "Mac," Vic began gently. "I don't want to
hurt you. You know that don't you?"
Mac nodded. "I know that Vic, but I have to know how you feel so just
tell me and I'll never bring it up again." In actuality, Mac could already
intuit by the way Victor was trying to avoid the subject that he did not
reciprocate his feelings; at the same time, Mac still wanted to hear it from
Victor's lips himself, just to be sure. It was strange, Mac never knew he had a
masochistic streak in him until now.
I must be the biggest sucker for punishment alive He thought miserably.
The look in Mac's big brown eyes broke Victor's heart. This was, without
a doubt, going to be one of the hardest things he would ever have to do. Victor
took a deep breath and began. "Mac, I love you too, but...," Vic paused before
continuing delicately, "I love you like the brother I never had. You're my
partner and my best friend and I wish I could feel the same way about you as
you do for me, but... I can't."
Victor swallowed hard. "I'm... I mean... Mulder and I... we've... "
Victor didn't know why he was having such a hard time telling Mac what was
going between him and the F.B.I. agent. He took another deep breath before
trying again. "You see, Mac, we've been talking to each other over e-mail and
before I picked you up last night to do the job he phoned me, and you see...
he... he misses me, as much as I miss him. And we've decided to try and make it
work out after all... "
Mac had watched as Victor's face changed as he talked about Mulder; his
features took on an almost dreamy, far-a-way look and Mac found himself
stricken with a heavy sense of envy for Fox Mulder and the hold he had on
Victor. Mac knew that Victor had never looked like that when he talked about
him or even LiAnne. The reality of the situation hit him and hit him hard. Now
he knew for sure that Victor was still in love with Mulder, and he would never
be able to compete with that. Mac's heart crumbled. He couldn't believe how
foolish he was not to see what was directly in front of his eyes the whole
time; that he was in love with a man who obviously loved another.
He had never felt more crushed in his whole life, even during the time he
found out LiAnne was engaged, and had no interest in getting back together with
him could compare to the sting of how he felt at this very moment.
After a while, Mac realized that he had been so lost in his own thoughts
of misery that he had not heard a word Vic had said in the last few seconds. He
shook himself out of it in time to hear Victor wrapping up.
"...who knows what will eventually happen? But we've decided to make
another go of it." Victor smiled lopsidedly.
"We're going to pretend that a long distance relationship will be actually
more romantic and not a hindrance. Mac... please." Victor leaned forward and
asked sincerely, "You understand don't you?"
Feeling very much like the blind idiot he believed he was and humiliated
beyond words, Mac merely nodded his head 'yes', not trusting himself to speak.
There was an awkward moment of silence. And Finally wanting only to be
left alone with his embarrassment over the whole situation, Mac managed to
shake whatever it was that had rendered him mute and said to Victor in a rather
cold voice, "I understand. Look, thanks for taking care of me last night.
You're right, there's no need for you to stay. You can go now."
Victor looked to Mac; he absorbed the steely facade and realized that the
hardness of his voice and the grim set to his lips was just a thin veneer to
hide his hurt. He pleaded gently, "Mac, please... let's not end things this
way. I..."
But before he could finish his sentence Mac interrupted with a curt,
"Look, I get it okay? You and Mulder are back together in mind and soul even
if not physically. No need to explain it further. Really. I think I've made a
big enough ass of myself for one day, don't you? Victor please, if you care
for me even just a little bit, you'll go now and leave me alone so I can at
least retain what little dignity I have left."
Mac flopped back down on the bed and covered his eyes—eyes that stung
with tears of humiliation—with his left arm.
Victor stood and leaned over to touch Mac's arm lightly, saying in a
slightly choked voice, "I'll phone you later okay?" When there was no reply,
Victor glumly turned around and walked out of his best friend's bedroom.
Cursing himself for ruining what was probably one of the most important
relationships in his life, Victor popped the top off his bottle a beer and took
a long drink.
Never in his whole life had Victor felt like such a heel. He sat on his
love seat and covered his eyes. He ran the whole awful conversation through
his head for the hundredth time and then groaned miserably. He could not get
over how sad Mac had looked when he told him about how he and Mulder were going
to take another shot at their relationship.
Victor took another swallow of cold beer and realized suddenly how much he
wanted, no, needed to see Mulder. He needed someone to ease his feelings of
guilt and misery. Setting his bottle aside, he reached for the phone only to
put it down again when a soft knock was heard at his door. Sighing, Victor
stood up, walked the few feet to the door and peeked out of the peephole. When
he saw who it was, he hurriedly undid all of the hardware and threw open the
door wide, beaming at the person who stood on the other side.
"Hey secret agent man, miss me?" Fox Mulder greeted him in a husky voice.
He was carrying his travel bag in one hand and his cell phone in the other.
Victor grabbed a hold of Mulder's wrist and pulled the man inside,
slamming the door behind the FBI agent. He barely turned around before Mulder
grabbed his shoulders and slammed him against the closed door. Mulder thrust
himself up against a thoroughly ecstatic Victor and captured his mouth in a
kiss so deep that Victor could've sworn that he could feel Mulder's tongue
making contact with his tonsils.
Mac awoke with a start. It took him a moment to figure out where he was,
he felt oddly disoriented. And when his mind finally established that he was
in his own bed in his own room in his own house, he sighed heavily.
Too bad the events of the early morning were real and not part of the
nightmarish images that had made his sleep disturbed and broken. He was amazed
that he was able to fall asleep at all after Victor had left. And now that he
was fully awake, he decided to just get up. Mac sniffed at his armpits and
turned his nose up disdainfully at the lingering odor, deciding that he was in
desperate need of a hot shower.
His need for a shower confirmed, Mac sat up very slowly and flung back the
covers. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and once his toes hit the
thick carpeting underneath, he grabbed the night stand to pull himself up
gingerly. His headache was still with him but none of the nausea and dizziness
of the night before and the early morning was left. He walked to the bathroom
slowly and flicked on the light before going in. Mac stood at the sink and
studied his reflection in the mirror, grimacing slightly at the sight of
himself in the mirror: underneath the bruises he saw his cheeks redden with the
remembrance of the humiliation of the mornings events. He could just kick
himself now for pushing the issue with Victor like he did.
How could I have been so stupid?!
Mac gave a snort of disgust at the mirror image of himself before turning
to switch on the radio. He tuned into his favorite station and then cranked
the volume up so that he would be able to hear the music over the noise of the
shower; walking around the corner into his shower he adjusted the temperature
to as hot as it could go without actually burning his aching skin. As Mac
washed himself, he began to run ideas through his head on how to solve this
tight fix he was in.
Mac figured his best shot, which would also be the most plausible, was to
simply tell Victor that he only vaguely remembered bits and pieces of what he
had said since he had been knocked in the head the night before. That he had
literally been out of his mind as a result of his massive headache, maybe he
could even say that he had a very mild case of amnesia.
Yeah, Vic'll buy that. Why not?
It was a lie of course, but then Mac was an expert at spinning a
believable web of deceit. The fact that he still knew very much where he stood
on the subject and where Victor stood for that matter wasn't important. What
was important was their friendship and he knew that if he wanted any hope of
salvaging it, then he'd better feign ignorance and just let the whole thing go.
It was the only way out of this difficult situation that Mac could see.
Shutting off the water, Mac grabbed his large fluffy towel and as he stood
there drying off, Jewel's haunting, lilting voice came over the airwaves and
began singing to him:
You took your coat off,
Mac paused in his drying; the words of the song brought on unbidden images
of Victor that swirled through his brain. In his mind's eye, he saw:
...Victor sitting upon a barstool, all alone in a pub full of people; a
solitary and desolate figure, looking abandoned after Li Anne had broken up with him...
...Victor, with sweat diluting the blood from a cut above his eye, laying on a
grimy bar room floor pleading with his former cop boss for his life...
...The look of fear in Victor's eyes as Mac reached out his hand so that Victor
could pull him to safety from the top of the old apartment building when the
burning rope that he had been clinging to had finally come apart...
...Victor's eyes, pupils magnified by tears that had not yet fallen as he sat
across from him, relating in a halting voice the litany of indignities he had
suffered at the hands of a madman...
Mac shivered when a cold chill came over him, he cleared his thoughts of
Victor and reached out to snap the radio off brusquely. The words had hit a
little too close to home for his taste. Mac tossed the towel on the floor and
exited the bathroom. As he dressed, all Mac could think of was that he hoped
he was not too late to fix this mess.
Part Fifteen
Late night/early mornings
tanding in complete darkness, Mac can hear a man screaming for help.
Over and over again he hears it, the voice will not go away. As he turns around
and around in circles, seeking the direction of the cries, suddenly it comes to
him whose voice it is that he's hearing. Its Victor's. 
Vic's Apartment
How I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year.
Running over the same old ground,
have we found the same old fears?
Wish you were here.
The Director's personal office 2:00 a.m.
it started to rain
you were always crazy like that
and I watched from my window
I always felt I was outside looking in on you.
You were always the mysterious one
with dark eyes and careless hair
you were fashionably sensitive but too cool to care.
You stood in my doorway with nothing to say
besides some comment on the weather,
well in case you failed to notice,
in case you failed to see
this is my heart bleeding before you,
this is me down on my knees.
And these foolish games are tearing me apart,
and your thoughtless words are breaking my heart...
breaking my heart...
