Chapter Three - Mare Undarum

by Barbara J. Webb

Disclaimers and warnings: These characters are not mine; they belong to Dick Wolf and I am only using them for fun, not for profit. Please don’t hurt me. This story is rated NC-17 for adult themes and sexual content. Parts of the series also touch lightly on child abuse and its potential aftermaths, so please take that into consideration before reading if this makes you uncomfortable.

The "By the Light of the Moon" series is set in the Law & Order universe, and has relationships including Logan/Stone, Logan/McCoy, and (I apologize for anyone made queasy by the idea of heterosexual relationships) a bit of McCoy/Kincaid.

For this series, I am altering the timeline just a bit, as a warning. The events that led to Mike getting sent away from the 27^th are not going to happen, so Logan will continue to be Briscoe’s partner for the duration. I apologize to all Rey Curtis fanatics (which I happen to be one of, as well), but I just need more time with Logan.

This is the fourth part of the series, with the action starting right in around the first 7^th season episode, "Causa Mortis"

Chapter Three – Mare Undarum

by Barbara J. Webb

Jack stared out the window of his office, a drink in his hand. Friday night, long past quitting time, and as far as he knew, he was the only person left in Hogan Place. Heavy clouds blanketed the Manhattan sky, and the reflected lights of the city gave them a reddish glow that reminded Jack vaguely of something out of Dante.

The door was already open, so he didn’t hear Adam come in, didn’t know how long he stood in the doorway quietly contemplating his most troublesome EADA, wasn’t aware of anything but the skyline until Adam’s gravelly "Jack," made him jump.

"Adam?" Jack turned around to face his boss, his quirky smile still only a shadow of what it had been before that fateful night. "You’re here late."

"The Salva case: how is that going?"

"It’s going."

"You seem to be getting along all right with Ms. Ross."

A cocked eyebrow communicated Jack’s real answer, but his voice was carefully mild. "She seems to be a passable attorney. She’s not...."

"I know. But she’s what you’ve got, so deal with it." Jack dropped into his chair, arms crossed, looking like nothing so much as a petulant teenager being told he couldn’t take the car out that weekend. "Stop pouting."

"I’m off the clock. I can do whatever I want."

"Then you should go home."

Jack shrugged. "You go home, Adam. I’m fine here."

Adam shrugged – an expressive Adam gesture that meant he didn’t feel like arguing. He re-adjusted his coat, then picked up his briefcase. "See you Monday."

"Monday," Jack agreed. He watched Adam go, then got up to turn out his office light. Curling up on his couch, Jack finished his drink in the comforting glow of the city, then allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

* * * * *

"She said she didn’t know Dunbar."

"Did there come a time when you began to suspect that she wasn’t telling the truth?"

"Sure, when we found the picture in Dunbar’s apartment."

Jack waited for Mike to expand on his answer, but nothing seemed to be forthcoming. "And why should we care about the picture, Detective Logan?"

"Because she was hugging Dunbar in it, and she told us she hadn’t known the guy." The exasperation in Mike’s voice did nothing but stir the slow simmering frustration in Jack. It seemed as though Mike was going out of his way to be as difficult as possible. Ever since that night....

"Are you going to be more cooperative than this on the stand, or should I just stick you on the list for the defense’s witnesses?"

Logan rolled his eyes and stood up. "This is the third time we’ve been through this. I know what you want me to say tomorrow, and I’ll say it, but right now I’m ready to go home."

"What, I’m just supposed to take your word on that? I haven’t yet heard the answers I’m looking for. Dammit, Mike, work with me here."

"Maybe next time you should just put Lennie on the stand."

Jack threw his legal pad down on the table, sliding off the corner where he’d been perched to bring him face to face with Mike. "Maybe next time I will, but this time, you were the one who found the gun, so you’re the person who, theoretically, will have the most relevant testimony."

For a bare moment, Mike held Jack’s gaze, and then dropped it. Jack was so shocked by Mike’s backing down that he didn’t make a move to stop the detective as he grabbed his coat. "Next case I’ll be sure an let Lennie find everything so you can be spared this drain on your precious time."

"Mike–" But Logan was out the door. Jack gathered up his notes and went to boot up his computer, but found himself nearly twenty minutes later with not a single keystroke entered, just staring at the eerie blue glow of the WordPerfect screen, his hands arched over the keyboard, idly tapping on the keys.

A bit more weight on the keys and the letters appeared on Jack’s monitor. This had nothing to do with his case, but if Mike was determined to be unprepared on the stand tomorrow, Jack had no idea what more he could do. So he stared at the statement on the word processor; after several minutes, he pressed and held down the delete key until the entire line was gone.

Statement, not fact. Mike himself had said that he’d broken his own rule a few times, and Jack had to wonder why, if one night stands were Mike’s habit, he seemed so hostile towards Jack these days. What had Mike so upset? It certainly went to motive. What was Mike’s problem anyway? Jack had been nothing but civil to him, had even given him some space. True, it hadn’t been for entirely altruistic reasons – Jack had still needed some time to himself to really work through Claire’s...absence. The night with Mike had cleared his head enough to let him face his grief; now it was manageable – barely – and in the middle of the night, lying along in bed, Jack found himself thinking back to that one mad evening they had spent together.

The cursor was still blinking on the screen, waiting for him to answer his own question. What argument could he have to Mike’s assertion that he didn’t sleep with anyone more than once?

With slow deliberation, Jack typed in the only two words that really mattered. Mike’s lost love. The one person who’d managed to break through Mike’s defenses, who’d either through persuasion or provocation found his way into Mike’s bed over and over again.

Jack flipped the power switch of the computer, unsure of what made him more pathetic – the fact that he was so desperately slobbering for the privilege of being invited into Mike’s bed, or the fact that he was actually envious of Ben Stone for having been granted that same right before him.

But he couldn’t help but wonder what it was Ben Stone had, what he did, what aspect of his personality had wormed its way past Mike’s immutable no.

He needed to get Mike out of his head. He had a trial to argue, with a mad judge and an obnoxious assistant. If Mike was going to be hostile and uncooperative, then Jack could find someone better.

* * * * *

The problem, Jack reflected three days later, was that he still had to work with Logan. It was one thing to decide he was going to push Mike out of his thoughts, and quite another to ignore the images that came into his head when Mike was sitting in the room with him. Possible, yes, but much more difficult.

"Haven’t we been through this already?" Mike’s patience had only put in a token appearance this evening, and had fled before the ice-cubes in Jack’s drink had melted.

"Yes." Jack could understand Mike’s frustration – this entire trial had been part circus, part headache for everyone involved, and while he had been happy for the ruling that allowed him to recall his witnesses in order to let them testify without interference from a prejudiced judge, the fact that he had to re-prep Mike was almost enough to make Jack lose his happy thoughts.

Mike was sprawled in his chair, knocking back a Dr. Pepper. At least he seemed a bit more relaxed tonight – impatient, but not entirely hostile. They said time healed all wounds, and they seemed to be approaching the proper temporal distance for Mike to at least ease back into the impersonal antagonism with which he had dealt with Jack before that night, rather than the angry offensensitivity that had crept in since the night Mike had walked out on him. "I can’t believe this. You got some magic number of times I need to repeat myself before you think I’m safe to testify? I only ask because I’d like to know if I’m going to need another soda."

"I just don’t want you to start making things up on the stand. You’re dangerous when you start talking without a script."

Mike let that one go – ignoring Jack was at least a different approach from attacking Jack, but Jack was fairly certain he didn’t like the direction that move was in. "Go get yourself another can of Dr. Pepper if you want it; we’re going to be here a while yet."

"Fine." Logan shoved his chair back and left Jack’s office. In his absence, Jack tried very hard to focus on the list of questions scrawled onto the legal pad in front of him. Did you have a warrant to search the apartment? Why did you look in the closet? Where was the gun? What was so special about Ben Stone?

That was not the direction Jack wanted to be going in. He dragged his mind back to the case – tried to – failed. It was simply impossible to get around the fact that it was late and he was alone in the building with Mike Logan, re-prepping him for a boring direct examination for a case that should have been over weeks ago.

And he still wanted to know what magical quality Stone had possessed that Jack lacked.

"Are you ready to get this over with?" Mike was back, and Jack dropped the pad of paper.

Did you have a warrant to search the apartment? Why did you look in the closet? Where was the gun? "What was so special about Ben Stone?"

Mike stopped short, one hand on the back of his chair, in the process of pulling it around to sit in. All the tension was suddenly back, his eyes cold, his face a mask. "I know you didn’t just ask me that."

Far too late to back up – instead, Jack pressed onward. "I did ask you that – I want to know. Why him and not me?"

"I wouldn’t know where to begin." Mike’s voice was icy. "Just let it go, Jack."

"No. I will not let it go. Look, Logan, I’ve behaved myself – I haven’t said word one about that night. I think you owe me an answer to one question."

"I don’t owe you shit, McCoy."

It had taken less than thirty seconds for the conversation to degenerate into Mike yelling at Jack – at least Mike wasn’t trying to ignore him now. Jack was perfectly aware he’d always had trouble separating good attention from bad attention. "Must I remind you that it was you, Detective Logan, who came banging on my door, who couldn’t keep his hands off me once I let him inside, whose lifestyle is so fucked you can’t even carry on a conversation with me without raising your voice."

"That’s great, Jack: insult me. That’s going to make me want to talk." But Mike sat down, didn’t walk out the door. That was a good sign.

Jack shrugged. "I’ll stop insulting you if you just answer the damned question."

"Oh yeah, that’s likely."

"Which, that you’ll answer the question or that I’ll stop insulting you?"

That got a twitch of Mike’s lips into a shape that was almost a smile. "The first is probably a lot more likely than the second."

"Well then, let’s work on that one." Jack leaned back in his chair, dropping the pen from his hand. "Come on, Mikey, how hard can it be to answer one little question?"

"Don’t call me that."

There was a noticeable tone of warning in Logan’s voice, but Jack had never responded well to threats. "Why not?"

Something seemed to break in Mike – Jack could see the change of expression that started in the detective’s eyes and washed over his face, a shattering to reveal the pain Jack had glimpsed just briefly the night they had spent together. This time, Mike’s mask of cynical calm didn’t snap right back into place, although Jack couldn’t tell if that was from lack of desire or ability. Something had just broken open in Mike, and Jack pressed his sudden advantage. "Mike, why not?"

"Because I’m going to miss it when you stop." The words were said in a dull, flat tone, with such an air of resignation – of absolute expectation – that, for a moment, Jack was taken aback.

"That’s the stupidest thing you’ve said so far. What makes you think I’m going to stop?"

That elicited a snort from the detective. "Because I know you."

Jack was getting sick and tired of people who "knew" him. "What do you know about me, detective? What you’ve heard from the secretary pool? What you’ve made up?" Now Jack’s temper – already shortened by the trial and Mike’s lack of cooperation, was completely up. "You know nothing, detective Logan, and until you stop exploding every time I try to talk to you, that’s how it’s going to stay. Don’t tell me you know me."

"Why does this fucking matter so much to you?" Now Mike was yelling too. "Why won’t you just drop it?"

The twenty-five thousand dollar question. "Because I like you – or at least, I’m pretty sure I would, given half a chance. Or because Claire loved you, and that matters to me. Or maybe–" Jack bit off the next sentence. He’d bared enough of his throat to detective Logan; an admission of just how lonely he was would give Mike far more information than he needed. "Let’s just get back to work."

"Oh, I see, now that I’m asking the questions, suddenly you don’t want to talk about it. I swear, Jack, you’re such a bastard."

Jack was tired, and Jack was through arguing this subject with Mike. "If we can simply get through it once, we can both go home." It was a rare moment when Jack McCoy conceded defeat, but he was beginning to feel as though this entire pursuit of Mike was a waste of his time and energy.

"I’m going home now. You can sit here and talk to yourself if you want."

Jack didn’t even try to stop Mike, simply piled his papers into some semblance of order, then packed up to go home – his empty apartment, his empty bed – trying once again to push Mike Logan from his mind.

* * * * *

The steady beep of the monitor was an almost comforting sound as Mike sat at Claire’s bedside. Ever since the accident, he’d come by a couple times a week to see her, sitting at her bedside, talking at her or reading out loud the historical romance novels that were her secret vice. The doctors said hearing a friend’s voice might help bring her out of the coma. Mike still refused to accept the possibility that Claire might never wake up.

Today, he didn’t feel like reading. For a long time, he didn’t feel like talking – just sat there in silence, holding her hand and listening to the perpetual, incessant sounds of the machinery keeping her alive.

"I don’t know what to do, Claire." Mike’s thumb slowly stroked the palm of her hand while he spoke. "I wish you could be here to give me some advice. Course, if you were here, I probably wouldn’t be in this situation." He sighed, leaning his head down to lean on a balled fist. "I can’t believe I slept with him. You’d laugh at me if you were here. I know you would.

"It’s like he just crawls inside your head and refuses to leave. Pisses me off, but I just can’t stop thinking about him. You tried to tell me he was like that; here I thought you were just blinded by the sparkle of his charisma, or maybe I am...shit, I don’t know.

"Thing is, he drives me nuts. One minute, I almost think I like the guy, and then he goes and says something stupid. Or maybe I do like him. Maybe that’s why I hate him so much, the way he makes me feel. I want him, Claire. God, I wish you’d just laugh at me for that and we could all go on with our lives.

"First Ben, now you. But I guess everybody’s gotta go eventually, right? Not that you’re gone – well, sorta. I hate to say it, sweetheart, but you’re not at your best right now. Who are we kidding, right? It’s not like you’re really going to wake up and start talking to me. It’s not like Ben’s just going to call me out of the blue and....

"I know how you felt about him. Shit, I know how I feel about him. You never told me...why didn’t you tell me that he could – what it’s like. When he touches me...it was great. Makes me want more.

"I miss you, Claire. And how do I keep saying ‘no’ to Jack? Not that you’d be a big help there. Arrogant bastard – thinks he can just charm his way into anyone. Probably just hates that I’m telling him no.

"I don’t know what I’m going to do." Mike stood up, carefully replacing Claire’s hand at her side. "Guess I’ll see you Tuesday or so. I’ll tell you how this turns out."

* * * * *

Jack dropped the paper he was reading and rolled off the couch to grab at the jangling phone. Reflexively, his eyes went to the clock – nearly midnight. He was fairly certain he didn’t want to be answering any phone calls that came to the office at this time on a Friday night, but if he didn’t answer, it would only continue to make that obnoxious sound and keep him from returning to his relaxation.

"McCoy," he barked into the receiver.

"Jack?" The voice on the other end belonged to detective Logan, and Jack wondered what horrid emergency was going to disturb his weekend this time. "Are you busy?"

"Is there an answer that will let me go back to my paper?" There was a long silence on the other end, causing Jack to wonder what he’d said wrong now. Usually it took him a bit more conversation to piss Logan off. "Mike?"

Logan was slow to answer. "Never mind. I was just...shit."

There was an unsteadiness in Mike’s voice, a hesitancy that grabbed Jack’s attention. "Is this not a business call?"

"Never mind. I don’t know why I–"

"Mike, wait." Jack dropped into his chair, leaned his elbows on the desk. "What’s going on?"

"I just called to–" A pause on the other end, a deep breath, "I just wanted to talk to you." Somewhere, through accident or design, Jack had developed this uncanny ability to say just the right thing to piss Logan off in any conversation, whether that was his intent or not. He’d been noticing that a lot lately. "Then by all means, detective, talk."

"Are you always this surly in the middle of the night?" Apparently, Logan’s sense of humor was still capable of putting in an appearance when he was speaking with Jack.

"Only when I think you’re going to interrupt my weekend with an arrest."

"Naw, this is...not business related."

Now they were getting somewhere. "In that case, my time is yours." Jack leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto his desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you want me, Jack?"

The question came so completely from out of the blue it took Jack a moment to formulate a response. "Have you been smoking something, detective?" Dead silence came from the other end of the phone. "Look, it just seems like a stupid thing to ask. If you don’t know by now...."

"What? What if I don’t know by now? Do I lose the door prize? How bout you just answer the fucking question?"

"Yes. Yes, I want you. Happy?"

"Should I be? From what I’ve seen, it’s not exactly an honor reserved simply for the elite." Maybe it was the late hour, or the weeks of fighting, or just Jack’s sense of humor kicking in, but Jack couldn’t hold back a laugh. "Something funny, Counselor?"

"We are, Mike. You and I. Two years we’ve been fighting with each other, and now here we are having a conversation, the heart of which the majority of the world would consider friendly, with even the slightest potential of becoming affectionate, and the best way we can think of to spend our time is by sniping at each other. Now, while I enjoy a good argument as well as the next man – probably more, I still find the situation...humorous."

There was a chuckle on the other end of the phone. "You wanna come over here?"

"Yes, I do. I’ll be there in a bit."

Jack cradled the phone and quickly closed down his office; the ride over to Mike’s place seemed longer than usual. Mike buzzed him in almost immediately, and was there to open the door for him. The detective slid an arm around Jack’s neck as soon as the prosecutor walked through the door. "Hi."

"Hello." Jack swung the door shut behind him as Mike leaned in for a kiss. It seemed when Mike changed his mind, Mike didn’t do it halfway. Mike’s lips pressed against Jack’s, his weight pushing Jack back against the door. "Does this mean you’re revising your position on second dates?"

"You know you talk too much, counselor?"

"Probably." Jack brushed his tongue over Mike’s, worked his thigh in against Mike’s crotch. "But I have to confess a certain amount of curiosity."

Breaking away from the kiss, Mike ran his lips along Jack’s jaw and sucked in Jack’s earlobe. "If I tell you what you want to know, will you shut up?"

"Possibly." The warm, wet feel of Mike’s tongue along the outer edge of Jack’s ear was sending signals directly to Jack’s groin. "Just wondering what changed your mind."

Mike nipped sharply at the sensitive fold of skin right at the curve of Jack’s ear. "Maybe I just got tired of fighting with you."

"You ever feel like maybe we should at least find something real to argue about? We’ve been fighting for years, and damned if I could tell you what over." The soft cotton of Mike’s t-shirt bunched under Jack’s fingers as he rubbed his hands down Mike’s back.

"I think it mainly had to do with the fact you’re an asshole, Jack." Mike wasn’t playing fair. Before Jack had a chance to respond, Mike had locked his mouth over Jack’s and sucked all the air from his lungs, leaving Jack gasping.

When the detective released him, Jack leaned his head against the wall. "You cheat."

"I’m tired of listening to you. Let’s go to bed."

"Excellent idea." Both had their clothes shed before they hit the mattress, landing with Mike on top of Jack. "Mmm...this feels familiar." Mike’s naked body was spread out on top of him, the silky feel of his skin awakening the nerves all over Jack’s body. Mike’s hands ran down Jack’s arms, fingertips brushing over the sensitive skin on the inside of Jack’s wrists. Mike’s lips were latched onto the hollow of Jack’s throat, his tongue flicking lightly across the nearly ticklish spot.

Jack tilted his head back, granting Mike easier access. "Familiar, huh?" the detective mumbled. "Bored with me already, Jack?"

"Thought you didn’t want to listen to me anymore." Thrusting his hips up, Jack rubbed his erection against Mike’s. "Even I can think of better things to do than talk at the moment."

"Shut up." Mike’s lips touched Jack’s, taking all the sting from the command, then his teeth were nibbling at Jack’s collarbone.

But Mike had gotten his way long enough, Jack decided. Taking hold of the detective’s shoulders, Jack rolled him over onto his back. Mike looked momentarily annoyed, then his eyes narrowed in cat-like pleasure as Jack ran his tongue around first one, then the other nipple. He reached down and ran his fingers lightly over Mike’s testicles, stroked up his cock, then cupped his balls once more in his hand.

"God, Jack." The prosecutor smiled around the hard nub still between his lips. "That’s...God, suck me."

There was no way Jack could ignore the plea, said in that desperate, hissing whisper. He slid down Mike, took Mike into his mouth. The detective’s hips pushed up, and Jack raised his head back up, keeping the level of penetration where he wanted it. As Mike dropped back down, Jack moved with him, continuing until his lips were being tickled by the curly hairs at the base of Mike’s cock.

Now Mike was holding very still, barely even able to twitch under the intense sensations of Jack deep-throating him. Jack kneaded his fingers in the thick muscles of Mike’s thighs, worked his throat around Mike’s hardness. Logan let out a harsh cry as he came, and Jack pulled back slightly to make it easier to swallow.

"Where’d you learn to do that?" Mike asked once he had caught his breath again.

"In the process of getting to be my age, detective Logan, you pick up a trick or two along the way." Jack moved up to kiss Mike, letting Mike taste himself on Jack’s lips. He responded to that hungrily, running his tongue along Jack’s, then sucking hungrily on Jack’s lower lip.

"My turn." Pushing Jack over onto his back, Mike settled in between his legs. "How d’ya want it, counselor? Long and drawn out, or short and sweet."

Jack felt like the last few weeks – especially the last half hour – had been all the foreplay he could take. "Short and sweet – but you owe me a long and drawn out."

Mike flashed a grin. "Whatever you say."

Logan was true to his word, enthusiastically blowing Jack with enough skill to drive Jack over the edge in what felt like no time at all. He rolled off Jack, sprawled on his back beside the prosecutor. "Happy?"

"Blissful." Jack reached over to run his fingers across Mike’s stomach. "Just so I can put my schedule in order, am I going to have to wait another two months before you’ll do this again?"

Mike shrugged. "Guess you’ll have to wait and see." But he turned his head and gave him a sweet, wide-eyed smile that was all the answer Jack needed. Then the moment of sharing was over, and Mike’s face hardened. "You going to be upset if I kick you out?"

Despite his reputation to the contrary, Jack did know when it was a good idea not to push any farther. "Not a bit." He rolled off the bed and began reassembling his clothing.

Mike seemed surprised at the ease of the exchange. "Well, then I guess, uh...."

Jack leaned down to kiss him, cutting the detective off. "I’ll call you tomorrow." He left Mike laying there, feeling a degree of – he thought – well-earned smugness. Encounter number two with Mike Logan had gone smoothly, and Mike hadn’t objected to the offer of number three. Just went to show what a bit of persistence could accomplish. For now, Jack was on the winning track.

END