You Call This a Life?
by Jalabert
ic opened his eyes and immediately became aware of
three things. First, the scent of Mac pervaded his
senses. Second—given the first fact—he was hard.
Third, he could hear water running in his bathroom.
Vic sat up and stretched, smiling slightly at the
memory of having spent the night with Mac snuggled in
his arms. He threw his legs over the side of the
bed, intent on joining Mac in the shower, when the
phone rang. He swore and reached for it.
"I take it Mac is still among the living," Dobrinsky said without preamble.
"Yes," Vic sighed. Very much so, he thought with a smile.
"Good. The Director wants both of you here at ten o'clock."
"What time is it? Shit!" Vic cried as he checked the clock. He hung up the phone and headed for the bathroom. He was disappointed to find it empty, but given the incentive Mac's naked body provided, Vic conceded that perhaps it was for the best.
"Mac!" he called down the hall. "The Director wants us at the office in exactly an hour and fifteen minutes."
"Lovely!" Mac spat. Vic started to go down the hall to speak with him but thought better of it. He had lost his erection the moment he heard Dobrinsky's voice but seeing Mac could restore it instantly. Besides, he really had to pee.
When he emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, showered and shaved, he went to the living room to speak with Mac. But the young agent was no longer on the premises. Vic panicked and rushed into the kitchen. Throwing open the cupboard door, he found the duffle bag where he had left it, the items Vic had placed in front of it undisturbed. He closed the cupboard and frowned. What had happened? The evidence seemed to suggest that Mac had run out on him. Had he had second thoughts? Vic didn't want to believe it, but he could not ignore that possibility.
He needed to speak to Mac, but that would have to wait till later. Vic returned to the bedroom and got dressed. He was about to leave the apartment when his eyes alit on Mac's note, which had been stuck in the frame of a picture near the door. It said that Mac was going home to change and pick up his car. Vic was relieved, especially when he read the last line:
Let's have a meeting of our own when the dragon lady is done with us.
Vic left the apartment smiling, looking forward to seeing Mac again.
Vic was the first to arrive at the conference room. He sat down with the cup of coffee and newspaper he'd picked up on the way in and began to read. A few moments later, he heard footsteps and looked up to see the Director approaching.
"Good morning, Victor. I'm glad you're here early. I'd like to discuss last night's events with you in private."
"Last night's events?" Vic repeated guardedly.
"Yes," The Director drawled a she sat on the edge of the table and folded her arms. "Events concerning a mutual acquaintance of ours, one Mac Ramsey. He attempted to commit suicide last night."
"No, he didn't! He was just—."
"And I agree with you—Mac should get some sort of counseling immediately."
"How did—?"
"It's my job to know everything about my people, Vic," the Director purred smugly. Vic blanched as he realized that his apartment had been bugged again. Twice before he'd found surveillance equipment at his place and removed it. His apartment had been clean since then—or so he thought.
"You have no right—!"
"Oh, I have every right Mr. Mansfield," she reminded him pointedly. "Don't worry; I fully intend to see to it that Mac gets the help he needs. What I need to know is whether or not he took anything last night or injured himself in any way."
Vic angrily threw down his paper. He was in no mood for the Director's games.
"You claim to know everything. You tell me."
Before she could answer him, the doors swung open and Liann entered with Mac at her heels. The Director spun around and walked away from Victor.
"Good morning, Liann, Mac. I'm glad the two of you could join us this morning."
Vic cringed slightly, but Liann was perplexed by the Director's cryptic remark. Mac, however, seemed ignorant of her meaning as he slid into his seat with a tiny smile on his lips. The Director picked up a pair of folders.
"I have your new assignment," she said as she placed one before Liann and the other before Vic.
"What about me?" Mac promptly complained. The Director pursed her lips.
"You won't be needing one. I'm having you institutionalized."
"What?" Vic shouted, even as Mac leapt to his feet and glared at him accusingly. Liann looked from one man to the other curiously.
"Sit down, Mac," the Director said bluntly.
"You promised!" Mac spat at Vic. "You promised!" he repeated more calmly, hurt and betrayal writ plain on his face. Vic raised his hands in protest and opened his mouth, but the Director repeated her command and Mac sat down.
"Now if you're finished with your little outburst, we can proceed." She turned to the screen behind her desk and brought up an image. "This is the Armstead Institute, a private clinic for the mentally...challenged.' A number of the Institute's patients have gone missing over the past six months, never to be seen again."
"Were they wealthy? Well connected?"
"That's for you to find out, Liann. You'll be going to the Institute undercover as an auditor and have full access to all records. Vic, you'll be an orderly. Try to get close to the other staff and find out if there's anything shady going on among the rank and file. They were surprisingly willing to hire you in spite of the spotty record we gave your alias."
Vic nodded grimly but his eyes betrayed the anger that lay just beneath the surface. As soon as the meeting was over he'd have a few choice words with the Director. Then he'd speak with Mac.
"Mac, you'll be the bait. Your job is to try to look enticing for the baddies. Other than that, there won't be much for you to do but keep your eyes and ears open. There isn't a lot of interaction among the patients, but I'm sure you'll use your irrepressible gift of gab to find out what anyone knows about the disappearances and pass that information on to Vic."
Mac nodded, somewhat mollified and embarrassed by his earlier outburst. He kept his eyes on his folded hands, hoping that neither Liann nor the Director would question his behavior. Vic, he was certain, would forgive him. At the very least, Mac hoped, he would understand.
"Questions, children?" the Director asked as she rose to her feet. She clearly wasn't interested in entertaining any queries. Liann opened her mouth but quickly thought better of it. "Good. Vic and Liann, you are to report to Dobrinsky for a few things you'll need to establish your cover. Mac, you are to report to the health office."
Mac frowned and met her eyes for the first time.
"The health office?"
"Immediately," she said with an air of finality. She turned and headed for the door. "Start moving, Ramsey, or I'll have someone come and drag you there by the scruff of your neck."
Mac swallowed hard and got to his feet. He gave Vic a fleeting, apologetic look and then left the room. Liann watched him go before she turned to Victor.
"What's eating him?" she wondered aloud. Vic shrugged. "What did he mean when he said you promised'?" Once again, Vic dissembled.
"It's Mac, Liann. Who knows what he means?" Vic said as he got to his feet. He turned to say something to the Director, but she'd disappeared. Vic sighed and moved toward the door. "Come on, let's find Dobrinsky and get this show on the road."
"What's the rush?" Liann asked as she joined him. Vic didn't answer her. His mind was on Mac and what was probably going through his head. Vic needed to see him as soon as possible to clear the air. With any luck they could have a little time to talk before they began their new assignment.
"Remove your jacket, Mr. Ramsey," the nurse said with a flirtatious smile. She always enjoyed Mac's visits to the heath office, as did the other female members of the staff. But Mac seemed different this time. He was uncharacteristically quiet, brooding even, and although he was as cooperative as always, he seemed to be very distracted. The nurse prepared a needle and administered the injection.
"Rough night?" she asked conversationally. Mac looked up and frowned.
"Ouch! What's that for?"
"I see," she teased. "You were out late last night, and without me, I might add. You are a constant source of disappointment, Mr. Ramsey. What does a girl have to do to get a little action around here?"
"Huh?" Mac asked groggily. A moment later he fell back on the examination table. The smile immediately faded from the nurse's lips and she picked up the phone.
"Is he ready?" the Director asked.
"Yes. I'll have him at the entrance in two minutes."
"The ambulance is waiting for you."
Sometime later, Mac struggled to open his eyes. He immediately regretted doing so as the light conspired with the beeping of the monitors connected to his body to make his head throb.
"You're an extremely lucky man, Mr. Ramsey," someone said. Mac had closed his eyes again and no amount of curiosity could force him to open them again. "Another few minutes and you might have been dead."
"Are you trying to tell me that I'm still alive?" Mac managed weakly, wincing in pain. "I'd think I'd rather be dead; if nothing else it's got to be quieter and hurt less than this."
"You're in rather good humor for a man who just tried to end his own life, Mr. Ramsey."
Mac reluctantly opened his eyes, then, and peered up at the bespectacled man before him. He had to be a doctor, Mac concluded. That meant that he must be in a hospital. But why? How? He had no recollection of trying to kill himself. In fact, the last thing he could remember was deciding that he'd very much like to live, preferably as a fixture in Vic Mansfield's bed. He'd spent the night there cuddled in Vic's arms and he'd slept better than he had in ages. He had yet to figure out what it all meant or where Vic intended to take things, but he was looking forward to finding out.
He'd tried to kill himself? How the hell had that happened?
"Where am I?" Mac croaked. The doctor put a cup of water in his hand.
"Small sips," he said. "You're at the Armstead Institute. Your aunt had you moved here as soon as your condition was stabilized. I wouldn't try that, if I were you," the doctor said when Mac attempted to sit up. The doctor used the bed's hand-held control to raise Mac's bed and then put it into his hand. "How's that?"
Mac wasn't listening. His memory had begun to return. He vaguely remembered being placed on a gurney and wheeled down a long corridor. He also recalled hearing sirens and seeing a medical team swarming around him and lots of shouting going on. He remembered someone warning that "we're losing him" and having a tracheal tube forced down his throat. Most importantly, Mac recalled that he had no aunt. He was the only child of two only children.
There was only one explanation for how he got to the Institute. It had been the Director's doing. She'd had him drugged. No, worse—she'd had him poisoned to get him into the Institute!
Vic walked along the corridor to the nurse's station. He'd seen the ambulance bearing Mac arrive shortly after he started his shift and was determined to see him at his earliest opportunity. All he needed was to find out what room he was in.
"Hey, Rob!" Vic looked up at Bess, the head nurse, who smiled at him in a friendly manner. "There's a new patient on the floor. They're always a bit of a wild card; we won't know what we're dealing with until he's been here a few days. Will you accompany me while I check his vitals, just in case?"
"Sure," Vic said. Hopefully, the new patient would be Mac and he wouldn't have to waste any time snooping. The nurse led the way to the end of the hall and gestured for Vic to open the door. Vic sighed in relief when he entered the room and saw Mac lying in the bed. He was fast asleep, but he looked rather pale. Bess quickly checked his vital signs as Vic looked on with a worried expression.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked.
"He came in last night; an apparent drug overdose. He was in very bad shape, poor thing. But he'll get what he needs here," Bess said as she lightly touched Mac's brow.
Vic tightly clenched his jaw. How had this happened? Mac was supposed to have been here at the Institute acting as bait for the kidnappers. How did he come to attempt suicide? Why? Vic had to imagine that it had something to do with what had happened at the Agency.
Vic couldn't help but wonder whether the Director had spoken to Mac and confronted him about his alleged suicide attempt. Vic fully intended to find out what was going on; if she had anything to do with Mac's condition she was going to pay dearly.
Vic was kept fairly busy with other patients for the next several hours, so much so that he began to think up a strategy for getting into Mac's room again before his shift was over. He need not have bothered; while in the general vicinity of Mac's room he heard his partner cry out. Vic rushed in and grabbed hold of Mac's arms, which were flailing about as Mac attempted to climb out of the bed. Vic sat on the bed and wrapped his arms around him. Mac tried to fight Vic off, repeatedly shouting something in Chinese. Bess came rushing in, alerted by the sensor alarms that told her Mac had dislodged all his monitoring equipment.
"Hold onto him while I get his meds. I'll get you some help," she said after making a quick assessment. Vic never heard her. He held Mac down and spoke gently to him.
"Easy big fella; it's alright. Everything's going to be okay. Just try and relax, alright? You're safe—I'm here for you, Mac."
Mac instantly stilled. He slowly pulled away from the man who had him locked in a bear hug. Vic relaxed his grip and Mac was able to sit back and look into his eyes.
"I thought she got you, too."
"It was just a dream, Mac," Vic replied as he gently pushed him back so that he was lying down again. Mac was dripping with sweat and apparently weak from his exertions.
"It was so real."
"No, I'm right here, just as I promised, Mac," Vic said as he took hold of his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. He released it reluctantly and stood as the sound of footsteps told him that Bess was returning. A moment later she appeared with another orderly. To her surprise, Mac was lying in bed and regarding her calmly.
"You certainly have a way with our patients, Rob," she said as she went to Mac and began reconnecting his IV.
"He was just having a nightmare," Vic said with a faint blush as he replaced the leads to the monitors on the other side of the bed.
"Hello, Mr. Ramsey," Bess said to the man in the bed in a warm and soothing voice. "My name is Bess and I'm a critical care nurse. Your friend there is Rob." Mac looked from Bess to Vic, who gave him a surreptitious nod. He turned his attention back to Bess and dully answered her questions. She finished her work and asked if he had any questions for her.
"How do I use the can in this get-up?" Mac asked. Bess smiled and started to reach for the urinal, but before she could speak, Vic volunteered to take him off the monitors long enough to use the toilet. Mac looked so relieved by the suggestion that Bess readily agreed to the scheme. She left with the second orderly and Vic quickly detached Mac from the machine.
"You'll have to take that with you," he said, gesturing toward the IV stand. "You'll probably need it to stand up anyway."
"Great," Mac deadpanned. He slid out of bed muttering about the accommodations and his lack of decent attire. Vic chuckled as he listened to Mac's diatribe through the bathroom door. Mac was sounding more like himself and when he emerged and stood eye to eye with him it was all Vic could do not to pull Mac into his arms. But he was cognizant of both the open door and the surveillance camera in the room so he was very circumspect as he took Mac's arm and led him back to bed.
"Camera," he whispered.
"Saw it," Mac replied. "Sound?"
"No, it's just for monitoring purposes," Vic said as he needlessly made a show of getting Mac into bed.
"So," Mac asked, enjoying Vic's attentiveness, "who else has been benefiting from your bedside manner, Rob'?"
"Jealous already?"
"Well, you didn't call, you didn't send flowers," he teased, but he abruptly sobered when he saw Vic's expression.
"What happened, Mac? You and I had a deal, remember? You were going to stay alive and watch my back and I—."
"She did this to me, Vic," Mac replied. "She had one of her minions drug me before I was brought here." Vic bristled at the revelation but Mac could see the doubt in his eyes.
"Why would she do that?"
"Why does she do anything? Maybe she thought it'd look better, not that I couldn't have played the part of a potential suicide victim convincingly."
"Don't flatter yourself," Vic said more lightly than he felt. "I wasn't at all convinced, remember?" he said as he suddenly recalled something the Director had said to him at their last meeting.
"Don't worry; I fully intend to see to
it that Mac gets the help he needs. What I need to
know is whether or not he took anything last night or
injured himself in any way."
She'd had him drugged, all right.
"I can't recall anything about last night," Mac said as he rubbed his eyes. Vic regarded him worriedly.
"That was three nights ago, Mac. You can't remember anything?"
"I remember three nights ago, Vic," Mac assured him hastily, "but I can't remember anything about last night—or the one before, which was presumably spent in a hospital emergency room somewhere."
"I'm going to throttle that—."
"Exactly what did you tell her about me?"
Vic finished making connections the heart rate monitor and turned around.
"I didn't have to tell her anything. She'd obviously bugged my place again."
"Well, I hope she enjoyed the show."
"I'm sure the sick bitch captured it for posterity. Damn," Vic exploded," I can't believe she'd actually stoop so low as to—."
"Hey, it's the Director, Vic—you know, the woman who could waltz under a snake without getting a hair out of place. Look, what's done is done. I've got more pressing concerns." Mac hissed and looked up at Vic. "Do you have to do that so tight?"
"That's the way I was taught to do it," Vic explained as he adjusted the blood pressure cuff. "So what are your more pressing concerns?"
Mac averted his eyes before he answered, causing Vic to develop a few concerns of his own.
"You aren't—you haven't changed your mind about anything, have you?" Vic smiled and shook his head. Mac sighed dramatically. "I thought—well, after I turned up here in this condition I was afraid you might have second thoughts."
"No such luck. I made you a promise and I fully intend to keep it. Hell, I haven't even begun to reap the benefits of the deal," he said with a suggestive smile.
Mac smiled back and Vic took the opportunity to pull the blanket over him.
"Get some rest. I'm about to get off work and I have to meet up with Liann."
"Did you tell her anything about me? About the other night I mean?"
"No," Vic said impishly, "but I did tell her that I found her dildo in the strangest place..."
Mac smiled back and closed his eyes. Vic turned out the light and throwing caution to the wind, he quickly bent and kissed Mac on the forehead before he left the room.
The following morning Mac was told to expect a visit from the staff psychiatrist. He was slightly dismayed by the prospect until Bess told him that he'd have another visitor before the doctor's call.
"We want you up and out of that bed today. The sooner you're on your feet and moving, the sooner you'll get all those drugs out of your system. Rob will be in momentarily to take you for a walk."
Mac had been about to ask her what was in his system but he brightened at the prospect of seeing Vic and put off his inquiry till later. Bess disconnected his IV line and coerced him into eating some of his breakfast as a precondition of his walk. Mac quickly scarfed down his toast and juice, but balked at anything else.
"That'll do for now. We'll ease you back into a regular diet gradually. You'll be hungry soon enough, a big guy like you," she said. Pushing away the tray, she handed him a pair of slippers. "Rob will be here shortly."
Mac grumbled as he pulled on the ill-fitting slipper socks. He was willing to endure them, however. The sooner he got them on the sooner he'd be on his feet and the sooner he was on his feet the sooner he'd begin to feel better. The drugs he'd been doped with left him with a massive hangover, but after more than twenty-four hours of sleep he was feeling jittery and slightly anxious. He got to his feet and began to pace the floor.
"Here, try these on." Mac turned around at the sound of Vic's voice and was promptly hit in the chest with a bag. He peered inside and smiled.
"Thanks!" Mac said as he pulled out a pair of pajamas and robe. "I prefer silk, but I'm prepared to rough it for the sake of the assignment."
"How noble of you," Vic deadpanned. "Get changed and we'll take a little walk. By the way, if anyone asks, your aunt sent those for you."
"My aunt has good taste," Mac said from the bathroom. Vic smiled and sat down to wait for him. He emerged a moment later and smiled.
"Let's roll."
Unencumbered by the IV, Mac seemed eager to move. His restless energy was a distinct departure from his somewhat lethargic demeanor the previous night. Vic knew it meant that Mac was emerging from the effects of the overdose and was experiencing the rebound effect. Bess had warned him to carefully monitor Mac's behavior and to look for signs of over-stimulation, so he knew that Mac's restlessness was deceptive. Mac was far weaker than he thought, thus he was relieved when Vic suggested that they rest for a few minutes in the lounge at the end of the long corridor.
"The nurse said I'd be seeing a shrink today," Mac said worriedly. "Vic, I don't want to see a head doctor."
"What's the big deal?" Vic replied. "You're here undercover, right? Just play along and talk to the guy. He can't hurt you."
"That's easy for you to say. It won't be your head he's digging around in."
Vic smiled at Mac's troubled expression. Mac refused to meet his gaze and determinedly scanned the room.
"It's not as though he's likely to find anything in there, is it?"
"Very funny, Vic."
"Call me Rob. Someone's bound to hear you in here."
"Very funny, Rob.' But I don't like shrinks."
"Have you ever seen one before?" Vic asked interestedly.
"Yeah, the dragon lady subjected me to a psych evaluation after the Claire Holland fiasco. The guy concluded that I had a deep-seated need for love and approval."
"Don't we all?" Vic snorted.
"Precisely! Why do I need a shrink to tell me what I already know?"
Vic shrugged and followed Mac as he rose and went to look out the window. He leaned against the wall and Vic hovered protectively. "You know, this place doesn't look half bad. I expected to see a bunch of head cases wearing diapers and drooling on themselves. These people look kind of normal."
"They're probably saying the same thing about you, Mac," Vic teased. "The droolers, diaper wearers and the dangerously ill people are on the fifth floor. The folks down here are suffering from depression, addictions, and various neuroses."
"Ah, so I'm in the country club area. Good to know," Mac said as he slid into a seat, failing in his attempt to hide his exhaustion from Vic. "So have you and Liann made any progress yet? When can I get out of here?"
"We haven't learned anything so far except that the intel the Director gave us doesn't seem to jibe with the records."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
"Who knows? Liann is retracing everything. An inside contact has seen to it that she's got access to all the Institute's files."
"It sounds as though I got the best of this assignment. Liann's on what sounds like the paper chase from hell, you're changing bedpans eight hours a day and all I've got to do is wear bad-fitting slippers and talk to a shrink."
"Changing bedpans is nurses' work," Vic replied puckishly. "I have to transport patients to and from treatment and occasionally strong-arm them into cooperating with the medical staff."
"Sounds like a dream job for you. I imagine that you had a lot of experience bullying people during your days on the force."
"Well, being a cop is like riding a bicycle—you never really forget how. Of course, I don't always have to use force."
"Oh yes, Bess did mention your bedside manner."
"Still jealous, I see," Vic said with a smile. "Don't worry. I'm saving myself for you." Vic helped Mac to his feet and was surprised to note that he was blushing.
"We'll have to have a nice long talk about that when we get out of here," Mac said.
"Make it a short talk and it's a deal. Otherwise I've got other plans for us when we get out of here." Mac blushed again, much to Vic's amusement, although he was a bit taken aback by Mac's sudden shyness. He said nothing about it, however, as he escorted Mac on another circuit of the floor before returning him to his room.
"This is all wrong!" Liann groaned. "What the hell is going on?"
"You mean what the hell is she up to?" Vic corrected.
"The Director? You mean you think this was deliberate? Why would she send us to investigate the disappearance of a bunch of twenty-and thirty somethings when in fact all the missing persons are at least twice that age? No, Vic, there has to be a mistake somewhere." Liann turned her attention back to the computer and renewed her search for the improbable. Vic, however, had already drawn his own conclusions.
The more he weighed the evidence, the more he was convinced that the Director had sent him and Liann on a wild goose chase. Not only were the victims far older than she'd led them to believe in the briefing, the case itself was at least six months old and had apparently been sitting on a back burner for some time. No, the Director clearly had another agenda—Mac.
She said she'd see to it that he got the help he needed. She'd sent him to the Institute as a patient, just as she promised. She'd had him institutionalized and given the others busy work to mask her actions. Vic could almost admire her for them had she not poisoned Mac as part of her elaborate scheme.
"Vic?" Liann called him a third time before he looked up. "What do you think we should do?"
"I think we should solve this case. Whether they're young or old, these people were victimized and deserve justice," Vic said evenly. And Mac deserves a chance to get whatever help he needs. But I intend to keep a close eye on him. I'm not sure I completely trust the Director's brand of help.
Mac was resting in bed when he heard a knock on the door. He glanced up and saw a beautiful woman standing in the doorway. He stared blatantly until the woman spoke.
"May I come in, Mr. Ramsey?"
"Sure," he replied easily. "Why not?"
"I'm Dr. Fromme. I believe you were told to expect my visit," she said as she skimmed through his chart.
"I was?" Mac frowned and then he realized what she meant. "Oh, you're the shrink."
"I am the psychiatrist, yes. I understand you were brought in after an attempted suicide."
"Allegedly, yes," Mac said petulantly.
"Allegedly? Are you trying to tell me that your overdose was accidental?"
"No, but since I have no memory of taking any drugs I can't exactly say what happened, can I?"
The doctor sat down and crossed her legs, giving Mac a distracting view of her thigh.
"What do you remember?"
"I remember waking up here feeling like I'd just come out of a coma."
"You had," Dr. Fromme said. "It was a brief one, but a coma nonetheless. What was the last thing you remember before that?"
Mac hesitated. He couldn't very well tell her that he remembered being sent to his employer's health office, where a buxom nurse administered an injection that was designed to get him a one-way trip to the Armstead Institute.
"I was at work," he said simply.
"Then how did you end up here? What do you think happened?"
"Oh, here we go with the questions," Mac said, sitting up in the bed. "Why don't you flout tradition just this once and simply tell me what happened!"
"Okay, Mac. May I call you Mac?" At his nod, the doctor continued. "You were brought into the emergency room of Brampton Memorial at noon on Sunday with approximately 500 milligrams of Diazepam in your system."
"Bullshit!" Mac spat.
"No, Mac, that's exactly what you had taken. The analysis clearly shows—."
"I did not voluntarily ingest 100 Valium pills. Even at that dose it's an unreliable poison. I ate breakfast, I had not drunk any alcohol or taken any other drugs, and I did not have a plastic bag over my head when I was found,' am I correct?"
"No, not according to your chart."
"Well, there you go! If I wanted to kill myself I would have taken it on an empty stomach along with several antihistamines and alcohol. And I would never have done it at work, where someone would easily find me. Hell, if I really wanted to off myself I would have used my gun."
"You know an awful lot about Diazepam, Mac," the doctor said smugly. Mac blanched. She regarded him steadily as he struggled to explain himself.
"All right, so I made a study."
"A study?"
"I was interested in various methods of suicide and did a bit of research."
"To what end?"
Mac shrugged, knowing as he did so that the doctor would not accept his response. He clenched his teeth and braced himself for the lecture to come. And come it did. Mac stubbornly resisted the truth of her words, buttressed by the knowledge that he had already chosen life. For as long as possible Mac allowed nothing Dr. Fromme said to cause doubt within himself or weaken his resolve. He was no longer suicidal. The past no longer mattered. Mac wanted a future...with Vic, if possible. Mac wasn't yet sure what that might entail, but he was looking forward to finding out. All he needed was to get out of the hospital and back to Vic's place.
The psychiatrist departed a half hour later, leaving Mac feeling pensive and frustrated. In the end he'd had to concede that she had made her point. She'd made an appointment to meet with him the following day and he was already dreading it.
Undercover or not, Mac had been forced to confront a few hard truths and he reluctantly decided that he owed it to Vic, if not himself, to try to deal with a few things while he had the opportunity to do so.
When Liann snuck into Mac's room to pay him a visit two days later, she found a very subdued Mac sitting in the dark. He hadn't spoken to Vic at all that day, although he'd caught glimpses of him passing in the hall. Vic always looked in and gave him a nod or wave, but something was apparently keeping him busy. Mac was a bit relieved, truth be told. He'd needed a little time to digest what he'd learned about himself and he wasn't ready to speak about it with Vic just yet. Liann presented no such problem.
"Aren't you taking this depressed mental case thing a little too seriously?" she said. She turned on the light, causing Mac to blink rapidly to adjust his vision. He gave her a dark look. "Hey, lighten up! I've got good news."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Vic and I cracked the case."
Mac sat up and looked at her.
"What?"
"It was a no-brainer in the end. Each of the victims was the last of his line and had lots of insurance. Duh. Two nurses on the fifth floor conspired to change the names of the beneficiaries on their policies and then the poor victims met their untimely demise. I busted up the scheme and Vic persuaded the nurses to show the authorities where they'd buried the bodies."
"Huh." Mac sat back and stared at a spot on the wall.
"So."
"What?" he said exasperatedly.
"Get dressed. We're out of here."
"Thanks. Think I'll stay a while, if you don't mind."
"Come on, Mac. Get up. Get dressed. There's a Tsing Tao out there with your name on it."
"Keep it on ice for me, will you? I'll be needing it in a few days."
"Mac!"
"Where's Vic?"
"He's at the Agency being debriefed by the Director."
"Would you tell him I'll see him in a few days?"
"Mac? You're beginning to worry me."
Mac rose from the chair and gave Liann a hug. He kissed the top of her head and then turned her toward the door.
"Go on, Liann. I'm fine. I'm just not ready to leave yet. Vic did tell you about the drugs, right?"
"Yeah, but I thought you were over that."
"I need a little more time."
"Wouldn't you rather recover at home?"
Mac shook his head.
"But I'd love it if you went to my place and got me a few things."
"Are you sure?" Liann asked uncertainly.
"Yes, I'm sure. Please?"
Mac quickly rattled off a list of things he wanted from his apartment. Liann nodded and headed for the door.
"I may as well not bother. Vic will probably come and pry you out of here," Liann said with an impish smile.
"Please tell him not to do that," Mac said. "Tell him I'll see him when I get out."
Liann studied Mac's face for a long time, looking for understanding. All she found, however, was determination. She nodded, then, and left. Mac slumped into the chair and sighed. He said a silent prayer that Vic would understand and forgive him.
