------------------------------
Lost at Sea
by Lianne
January 2004
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Victor stood on the edge of the water -- you couldn't call 
it a beach when there were only boulders to mark the end of 
the island and the start of the lake waters -- dripping 
wet, and watched as the last bit of the boat sank out of 
sight. "Great," he muttered to himself as the only chance 
of escape disappeared. "Just great."

"Hey, a little help over here would be good."

"Of all the people to be stranded on an island with and it 
has to be Mac." Vic took a deep breath, then let it out 
slowly, trying to get his temper back under control. "And 
just what do you need help with?" he asked in a normal tone 
of voice, turning around to face his equally soaked partner 
and reason for being in this situation. They could have 
called it in when their target had hit the water but no, 
they had to get into another speedboat and follow. Only 
problem was, neither one of them knew where the water was 
too shallow for the bottom of the boat, while their quarry 
did. That left them stranded on one of a million small 
islands along the BC coast line, while the bad guys got 
away clean. They were going to be so dead when the Director 
found out.

Mac rolled his eyes. "I grabbed the emergency supplies when 
the boat started going down," he said. "You, on the other 
hand, just thrashed around like a swimmer in Jaws."

Vic raised an eyebrow. "Jaws? I thought you didn't watch 
anything but Hong Kong martial arts flicks." Being forced 
to put Mac up for a couple weeks while LiAnn headed off to 
Toronto as part of their upcoming move had left him knowing 
more about Mac's viewing and listening habits than he'd 
really wanted to know. Why couldn't the man listen to 
something decent? But no, Mac scoffed at Vic's blues albums 
-- only dinosaurs listened to vinyl, he said -- and taste 
in TV. They'd already come to blows once. Mac still had the 
visible remnants of a black eye from that little spat.

"Yeah, well my dad had a thing for disaster movies, and 
that one definitely counted as a disaster in my books. Now 
lets get this stuff sorted out before the sun goes down and 
it gets cold."

Vic was tempted to refuse, but deep down he knew that Mac 
was right. It was going to get cold, and with both of them 
wet, it wasn't going to be a pleasant night. And rescue 
wouldn't reach them before morning. Assuming that the 
Director -- he must have been insane to agree to work for 
the woman; prison had been safer and more comfortable -- 
even knew where they were. Hell, knowing her, she might 
even leave them there for a couple of days, just for the 
fun of it. 

He headed over and looked at the open metal box sitting 
next to Mac. "Where the hell did you find that?"

"Under the back seat, right where it should be," the 
younger man said with a frown. "Don't you know anything 
about boats?"

Vic felt his face heat up. "My parents weren't into the 
vacation stuff. And they definitely weren't into the 
outdoors type of vacations."

"And you weren't a boy scout?" Mac asked. The sneer in his 
voice made Vic want to blacken his other eye for him, but 
the Director had made it clear that they were to work 
together, and any more fights would get them both sent to 
Dobrinsky for 'togetherness training.'

Vic shook his head. "I was 'allowed' sports, since it gave 
them something to brag about, but they were more interested 
in getting me into educational programs to help me get 
ahead in school. I graduated from high schooltwo years 
early, which they lorded over their friends. Wonder what 
they told those friends when I dropped out of business 
school to join the police academy as soon as I was old 
enough," he added with a small grin. He hadn't talked to 
his parents since then, except for a very awkward Christmas 
call that LiAnn had talked him into the year before. LiAnn 
was bigger into family than he was. He took in Mac 
surprised expression and had to hide his grin. He knew that 
the younger man had decided he was just a hick cop, so it 
was fun deflating his assumptions.

"What about you?" Vic asked. "You look very comfortable 
doing the camping thing."

Mac's expression hardened. "My dad's schemes took us all 
over the world, and didn't always involve hotel rooms. You 
learn."

Vic frowned. "I thought the Tangs raised you," he said, 
trying to remember what little LiAnn had told him of her 
past.

Mac glared at him. "From the age of twelve. Before that I 
spent a little more than a year on my own, and the rest 
with my father."

"He died?"

"I don't know and I don't care."

Vic's curiosity was aroused -- old cop instincts, perhaps -
- but Mac's expression told he had better back off or there 
*would* be a fight, consequences be damned. "So how did you 
live before the Tangs took you in? Foster care?"

Mac snorted. "An illegal alien in Hong Kong? Give me a 
break." He pulled a flashlight out of the emergency kit and 
flicked it on. "Fuck," he muttered when the light came on 
as a dim glow that quickly disappeared. "Dead batteries." 
In a flash of anger, he tossed the flashlight out into the 
water. The anger was gone as quickly as it had appeared, 
and he went back to pulling items out of the box.

Vic bit the inside of his cheek and stopped asking 
questions. His time in Vice gave him a pretty damned good 
idea of just how Mac had survived that year on his own. All 
of the sudden, the mental image he'd built of the man 
shifted. Up until now he'd seen Mac as a rich brat, a 
wannabe playboy who'd had everything he wanted handed to 
him on a silver platter. His fancy clothes and LiAnn's easy 
sophistication had just reinforced that image.

Of course that shift in image didn't change the fact that 
Mac was an annoying little shit who enjoyed getting on his 
last nerve, Vic thought as he sorted through what they had 
to work with.

There wasn't much. A flare gun that wouldn't do them much 
good in the cluster of small islands unless a boat or plane 
happened to be close by. That was carefully put aside until 
they actually saw signs of searchers looking for them. At 
least he assumed that the Director would send searchers. 
She had too much money and time invested in them just to 
leave them to rot. He hoped.

Along with the flare gun were a first aid kit, and couple 
of thin space blankets. Waterproof matches were a relief 
with the sun going down, although they would have to move 
fast to find enough dry wood to light a fire. Vic hoped 
that Mac's unexpected new skills included building a proper 
fire, since Vic had never tried. He was a city boy, after 
all.

And finally, a soggy box of granola bars. The cardboard 
crumbled away almost as soon as Vic picked it up. Good 
thing that the individual bars were packed in waterproof 
sleeves. Just the sight made Vic's stomach rumble. It had 
been a long time since lunch. He picked one up. Then his 
conscience pricked.

"Granola bar?" he offered, nonchalantly.

"Thanks," Mac said, eyeing him a little cautiously. He tore 
open the wrapper and almost inhaled the contents. "Mmm. 
Apple."

Vic checked the remains of the box. Yep. Apple crisp. Not 
his favorite, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He ate one, 
then carefully set the rest aside. He was still hungry, but 
they had no idea how long rescue would be coming. In fact, 
he had a sneaking suspicion that the Director was going to 
take her time. He figured she had ways of finding them 
quickly, but leaving them there for a day or two would 
appeal to her twisted sense of humor and her determination 
to get them to 'play nice.'

Mac glanced up at the sky, which was getting darker by the 
minute. "Wood," he said, then stood and brushed his hands 
on his pants and headed into the trees. Vic followed.

The island wasn't huge, but it was big enough to have a 
small forest, it seemed. Within a few steps, he couldn't 
see the shore, and the darkness got even thicker. He 
started picking up wood that seemed pretty dry, keeping an 
eye on his partner as he went. It wasn't as if he could 
lose the man, but the silence was starting to get to him. 
No traffic, no shouts. No sign of life. Just the wind 
making an eerie whistle, and a distant sound of water. Not 
even a single bird. It was creeping the hell out of him. He 
couldn't wait for the move to Toronto. He might have 
enemies back there, but it was familiar territory.

They both had large piles of wood by the time Mac decided 
that they had enough for the night and they headed back to 
where their things were. Thankfully Mac *did* know how to 
build a campfire, and he did so with such speed and 
competence that Vic was reluctantly impressed.

By that time the sun was almost completely set and the wind 
was picking up. With their wet clothes, they were both 
shivering. Vic huddled closer to the fire. Mac, on the 
other hand, stood up and started stripping. "What the hell 
are you doing?" Vic asked, his eyes going wide before he 
shut them. He wrapped his arms around himself and clenched 
his teeth to stop them from chattering.

"It's cold, and sitting around all night in wet clothes is 
just going to make us sick," Mac said reasonably, spreading 
his clothing over a rock, then picking up one of the space 
blankets and wrapping it around himself. He looked 
perfectly at ease, sitting there, naked other than the 
space blanket.

Vic just shiverred.

>>>~~~<<<

By the time the sun came up in the morning, Vic was cold 
and stiff and in a really bad mood. He'd been wondering if 
the night was ever going to end. He'd only been able to 
sleep in fits and starts. He was cold and wet and the 
ground under him was hard and lumpy. Even with the space 
blanket, which was designed to hold in body heat, he'd been 
badly chilled. He'd finally squirmed out of his soaking wet 
jeans, although he hadn't been able to work up the nerve to 
strip right down to skin like Mac.

Mac, on the other hand, didn't seem to have had any trouble 
sleeping. At least, every time Vic had rolled over and 
looked towards the other side of the fire where the other 
man lay, Mac had looked to be sound asleep. He never moved, 
never opened his eyes. Hell, he didn't even snore. If his 
chest hadn't been moving, Vic might have thought that he 
was dead.

Of course, he might have been faking it. Vic had never 
bothered to check out just how Mac slept normally; he'd 
done his best to ignore the man sleeping in his apartment's 
spare room. As a result, he didn't know whether Mac usually 
slept that still. For all he knew, Mac hadn't slept a wink, 
but was pretending to, just to play with Vic's mind.

Now that the sky was bright enough to see by, it was time 
to get moving. Vic sat up and glanced over at his partner 
only to find that Mac's spot was empty except for the 
folded space blanket, sitting on the ground with a stone on 
it so that it wouldn't blow away in the wind coming off the 
water. Mac's clothes were still there, though, so Vic 
didn't think that the man had found a way off the island 
and had abandoned him in the night. But still, where was 
he? And why the hell was he wandering around naked? For 
that matter, why was he running around, period?

Vic stood and immediately started shivering. The wind was 
chilly and cut through him like a knife. He grabbed his 
jeans from the bush they were hanging on, and even though 
they were still unpleasantly clammy, he pulled them on. 
They didn't warm him at all, but at least they protected 
his legs from the worst of the wind.

Still shivering, he threw a couple more branches on the 
fire. Mac had obviously stirred up before disappearing. Vic 
was amazed that he'd managed to sleep through the man 
moving around their makeshift campsite. He was relieved to 
see that the emergency supply box was still there -- 
further proof that he hadn't been abandoned; something that 
he wouldn't put past his annoying partner. He looked 
inside, and everything was still there, except for one 
granola bar, the wrapper tucked in with the two from the 
night before. Vic's stomach started grumbling, and since 
Mac had obviously had his breakfast, Vic felt no guilt at 
all grabbing one for himself and wolfing it down.

His first impulse was just to toss the wrapper away, but 
Mac's stared up at him accusingly, so he tucked his own 
next to it. There was no one around to see him litter, but 
he could just imagine what Mac would say. Another facet to 
add to his quickly changing mental image of Mac.

He was still a little shit, though, Vic thought to himself 
as voice in the distance started singing.

The singing was quite good, actually. A warm baritone, rich 
enough to make him shiver. He assumed that it was Mac 
singing -- who else would be on this tiny island with them? 
-- and was quite surprised at how good the man was. He 
could sing professionally and do quite well at it. A pity 
that what he was singing was some modern trash. His voice 
would be perfect for jazz or the blues. *Real* music.

As he followed the music, Vic was a little surprised to 
find that instead of the shore, it was leading him deeper 
into the island, small as it was. As the music got louder, 
it was joined by the sound of water splashing. Immediately 
his throat tightened up, reminding him that he'd had 
nothing to drink since before their spectacular boat crash 
the day before, and he was parched.

Pushing past the last scrubby bush, he found the source of 
the splashing. At what looked to be the center of the 
island was a small spring that had collected into a pool 
that was probably not even waist deep at the deepest point. 
Mac was taking a bath in it.

Considering the fact that his partner's clothing had been 
left back at their makeshift camp, it shouldn't have 
surprised Vic that Mac was naked, but somehow it did. He 
was standing in water up to his knees, bent over to splash 
water onto his chest, accidentally presenting Vic was an 
excellent view of his rear end. Vic froze and closed his 
eyes, trying to block out that view.

It wasn't that it was an unappealing ass, mind you. He'd 
always appreciated a nice ass, male or female, although 
admitting the first wasn't something he did, considering 
both his current and previous lines of work. But he was 
engaged to LiAnn, so he shouldn't be looking at anyone 
else's ass; especially not the ass of their partner, her 
ex-fiance. Besides, he didn't like Mac. At all.

"Finally decided to wake up, did you?"

Vic jumped as drops of ice-cold water hit his face, making 
his skin tighten with a shiver. "Shit, Ramsey, are you 
trying to freeze your dick off?" he snapped without 
thinking. Then his eyes flew open, and he fought the urge 
to blush. Mac was standing right in front of him, hands on 
his hips. His skin was puckered with goosebumps, and drops 
of water gleamed in his chest hairs. There was something 
almost primal about him, and Vic clamped down his reaction 
to it.

Mac snickered. "Trust me, there is nothing wrong with my 
equipment," he said with a leer, looking down briefly. "Any 
particular reason why you're so worried about it?" He 
winked in a way that made Vic want to punch him. Or 
something.

"No!" Vic was proud of himself. His gaze didn't flicker 
downward. Not even for a second. Much. Okay, for a 
millisecond, maybe. Just long enough to know that if the 
other man's dick had shrunk from the cold, then he must be 
hung like a horse. Vic shivered slightly. This was getting 
freakish.

If anything, Mac's grin got wider. "You can take a longer 
look if you like. You know you want to. It's got to be a 
struggle to deny it."

"You know, not kneeing you in the groin is a constant 
struggle," Vic shot back. This time he did look down. 
Slowly. Deliberately. And, he hoped, in a way that 
expressed his disdain for this confusing man he thought he 
had already known too well. "Although it's a very small 
target to hit," he lied.

Mac just laughed. "Come on, Vic, you know you want me. 
Aren't you even a little curious about what LiAnn and 
Michael found so appealing?"

Michael? "No," he said firmly.

Mac stepped forward, and Vic quickly backed up until his 
back was pressed up against the twisted trunk of one of the 
island pines, feeling a little foolish. This was completely 
ridiculous, and he didn't like that Mac was able to do this 
too him.

It was also disturbingly reminiscent of how he and LiAnn 
had gotten together. He'd been so busy trying to ignore the 
attraction that he was feeling that he hadn't noticed she 
was pursuing him until she had knocked him on his back 
during a sparring session then hadn't let him back up. Come 
to think of it, that was how most of his relationships 
went.

But that wasn't going to happen this time. He was taken, 
and he had no interest in Mac, no matter how attractive he 
was. As Mac tried to press his advantage, Vic pushed back, 
refusing to be distracted by the crisp feel of Mac's chest 
hair under his palms. "This isn't going to happen," he 
said. Despite the cold, he was starting to sweat. He hated 
Mac, he reminded himself. He was a rival, for position and 
LiAnn. He was an arrogant little shit, completely self-
centered.

And yet, he wasn't sure who Mac was anymore. In the last 
twenty-four hours he had learned more about the man than he 
had in the month since the man had been dumped on them by 
the Director.

And he was too damned close. Too confusing and too close. 
And LiAnn was on the other side of the country.

"Come on, Vic, don't you want a little taste? I know you 
do. I've known since our little... swing, stealing that 
painting. LiAnn won't mind. She shared me with Michael, 
after all."

Vic was starting to breathe heavily as he fought to keep 
himself under control, but something in the way Mac said 
the last bit caught his attention. Meeting Mac's eyes, he 
realized that they had gone almost dead. The grin was still 
in place, but the teasing twinkle in his eyes were gone. "I 
thought Michael wanted LiAnn," Vic said, calm descending on 
him.

Mac shrugged. "So?"

"You were in love with LiAnn. Michael was in love with 
LiAnn. But you slept with Michael? How did she feel about 
that."

"It was her suggestion."

This was too damned weird. "Why?"

"It was just sex," Mac said, looking confused.

Vic sighed. "Sometimes I wonder about you."

Mac grinned. "I wonder about you, too. Like, are you a 
screamer or the silent type? I've been tempted to find out, 
you know. I could just sneak into your room one of these 
nights. Would you like that?" He reached towards Vic, but 
Vic just twisted out of the way.

He was no longer off-balance. This had become too similar 
to some of his experiences as a cop in vice. That let him 
step back and control himself. "The Director should be 
arriving soon," he said calmly, turning to head back 
towards the camp. "She can't afford to leave us running 
around on our own for too long."

Behind him he could hear the soft patter of bare feet on 
the ground as Mac followed him. He could tell from the 
silence that he'd finally managed to throw the man 
completely off-balance, but he didn't feel the sense of 
triumph in it that he might have a few days earlier. It was 
quickly becoming clear to him that Mac's past had left him 
completely screwed up. The only question was whether or not 
he was beyond repair. Strangely, Vic found himself hoping 
not.

Unfortunately, one side effect of this was that he was also 
getting a closer look at LiAnn, and he was beginning to 
wonder about her, too. The idea that she would cheerfully 
let Mac sleep with Michael, even though she had told Vic 
that she'd been in love with Mac at the time, was 
disturbing.

Still not looking at Mac, Vic crouched down and fed a few 
more branches to the fire. It was throwing off enough heat 
that he stopped shivering, despite the win. "Get dressed 
before you get sick," he said.

"But..."

Vic smiled, although he made sure that Mac couldn't see it. 
"Get dressed, Mac. Now is not the the time and definitely 
not the place."

There was no sound after that, except for the wind 
whistling, the fire crackling, and the rustle of cloth as 
Mac got dressed. Then he came over to the fire and they sat 
in almost comfortable silence, broken only by the 
occasional confused look from Mac, which Vic carefully 
ignored.

Almost an hour later, the distant drone of a motor 
announced that rescue had arrived. They ran down to the 
water's edge and waved and hollered until they were sure 
that they had been seen.

"You know, Vic," Mac said, finally, "I don't understand you 
at all."

Vic quickly covered up a smile. "That's all right, Mac. I'm 
beginning to understand you." And as far as he was 
concerned, that was what really mattered.

END

Selected scenario: Skinny dipping challenge: it's hot and 
one of your characters eyes a refreshing body of water. The 
other character is eyeing them.
Assigned phrase: "You know, not kneeing you in the groin is 
a constant struggle."

There was also a discussion a few months back on RatBOaT 
about which Once a Thief characters would do better 
marooned on a desert island. This was inspired by that, 
slightly.

This story tried desperately to be longer, but I was 
ruthless. Otherwise, I wasn't going to finish it in time. 
However, a sequel is a definite possibility. Especially 
since it refused to be the originally planned light and 
silly story, and went all heavy on me instead.