Hard Time

by Demi-X

Rated: A slash

Warning: Violence

Pairing: Mac/Vic Once A Thief

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

September, 1998.

Victor, Li Ann and Mac sat in their usual order at the long table in the Director's office; Li Ann in the middle with the two male agents flanking her.

Stuck in the middle, as usual, thought Li Ann, as she looked toward Mac who was on her left and then to Victor at her right. She hated meetings, and after a while, her mind started to tune out the droning voice of the Director, who was busy reprimanding Victor and Mac about their last mission and all the mistakes they had made.

The lyrics "Clowns to the right of me, Jokers to the left." began to run through her head.

She couldn't help but smile at that. The young woman laughed softly to herself in response to the song, and how appropriate that little tune seemed for this situation.

Unfortunately, the laugh and smile that was meant only for herself, did not go unnoticed by her ever- aware boss.

"Something funny, Li Ann?" asked the Director seriously. "I don't see what it could be, since I sure as hell don't think the way the three of you behaved on the last mission is anything to laugh about." The Director was not only frustrated by the two agents failure to get along but also by Li Ann's apparent apathy regarding their rivalry.

The Director knew that her instincts were right in putting this team together. All the components for a successful working partnership were there. She believed that once the men got over the fact that they were both in love with the same woman - even though Li Ann was in love with neither of them - their sense of solidarity would click into place. It was really only a matter of time before it did, Victor and Mac were a lot alike in many ways. Once the men formed that united front and settled in to a working relationship, she believed the chemistry between all three would be explosive.

The only problem was that, as yet her two most pig-headed male agents still had not got over their juvenile contest to top each other.

The Director sighed and leaned back in her chair. She opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a black folder. Flipping the folder open she pulled out a photo of a young man who had been found dead, deep in the woods to the north.

"Well, gentlemen, you may not have managed to get along very well on the last assignment but I guarantee you that you will on this one. In fact, it's crucial that you do." The petite red-head stood up and spread several crime scene photos of the dead man on the table in front of the agents.

Each of them grabbed a photo and looked to her for the rest of the information on the deceased man.

"Meet Joseph James Carter, 27, blond hair, brown eyes, 5' 11", 190. lbs., and deader than the proverbial doornail," stated the Director dryly. She levelled her brown-eyed glare at Mac and Victor, making sure the two of them understood the seriousness of what she was about to say. "At the time of his death, Joseph Carter was supposed to be incarcerated at Kensington Federal Penitentiary. He was convicted on May 12, 1996 for armed robbery and had been serving a stretch of 4-10. In fact, Carter was supposed to serve a minimum of four years before he could even go before the parole board."

The Director paused to let those facts sink in before moving on.

"So now you should be asking yourselves, what's a guy whose supposed to be in prison for at least another year and a half doing in the woods to the north? That I will leave up to you two to find out."

She placed more photos containing the rest of the crime scene, pictures of the prison from the outside and other related data in front of all three agents. They examined the material in silence, all of them knowing better than to ask questions before their boss was done talking.

The Director paced around the large table like a tiger circling around and around in a too-small cage. She spoke in a casual tone. "There's no record of Carter even escaping from prison. Not only that, in addition to him, three other men have gone missing from the same prison, with no explanation of what happened to them."

Once back in front of the table, she spun around on her heels to face the male agents. "Victor, Mac, the two of you will go inside the prison as inmates. Li Ann will work the other side of the bars and set up shop as the new social councillor. I'll also keep contact with you two under the guise of being your lawyer." The Director paused at that point, unconsciously gave a small smile as she imagined herself, dressed in one of her shortest skirts and a tight almost see-through blouse, walking down a long dim hallway passing cell after cell with muscle-bound convicts, all of whom were salivating over her, wanting her and her alone...

"Um, hey," Mac spoke up, interrupting the Director's steamy thoughts of prison. "Don't you think that sending Victor to prison might be a little dangerous?"

Victor raised his eyebrows in surprise, he had been thinking the exact same thing, only Mac beat him to voicing the concern.

The Director gave Mac a mock look of surprise. "Why, Maaaac," she cooed. "Just look at you. Is it my imagination or are you actually concerned for Victor's safety? And here I thought you didn't care about him!"

Mac shrugged his shoulders in nonchalance and replied in a neutral voice, "Listen, I could care less about *Starsky* here, him getting hurt is no skin off my back. But on a job like this, it's different. Something like this could lead to a life or death situation, and considering it's only going to be him and me in there, I'd rather not have my partner shanked the first time he showers. Not that Vic here was some sort of supercop...."

Victor levelled a glare at Mac and interrupted with a snort. "Gee thanks for the vote of confidence, man," he said.

Ignoring his partner's comment, Mac went on, "Like I said, even though Vic wasn't a supercop with an astounding number of arrests, there's still gotta be at least ten felons in that joint who would recognise Victor for being one of the boys in blue."

"I think I can speak for myself , Mac." Victor shot Mac a dour glare. "I hate to say it...but he's right. I know I sent a few guys up there for stretches of twenty years or more. I don't think they'd make a very good welcoming committee."

"Now Victor, do you think I would put you in that kind of danger?" asked The Director, pretending to be shocked by such a suggestion.

"After the way Mac and I behaved on the last mission, I would say anything's possible."

"Well put such thoughts out of your head, Victor. It's been arranged so that all inmates you have ever crossed paths with were transferred out, so there should be no one left that will recognise you." She paused for a few beats then added as an afterthought, "But if I were you, I'd be on my guard at all times anyway. It is prison after all." It was a rather unnecessary reminder. The two agents already knew that they would have to be on guard 24/7.

"Who's gonna back up the guys when we're not around?" Asked Li Ann.

It was almost surprising that no one had thought to bring that question up yet. All kinds of violent images had gone through Li Ann's mind when she thought of all the possible scenarios that could happen to two good looking guys like Victor and Mac in a place like that.

The Director smiled at Li Ann before answering. She considered the young woman one of her sharpest and brightest agents. She was always level-headed and asked the right questions at the appropriate times.

"I would like to say that since I believe that Mac and Victor are capable of taking care of themselves, there will be no back-up." The Director paused just long enough to shoot the two male agents a mildly dirty look to emphasise her statement. "But the truth is, I couldn't risk sending in more than two new people at one time. We don't want to raise any suspicions. Everyone in the place is a suspect right now, from the infirmary doctor to the warden. Unfortunately the information we do have on the place is vague at best, however, there is one guard who will do his best to watch over you guys. He's not really one of our people, but it was his report that tipped us off to a potential problem in the first place. We did establish contact with him, so he will know you two, but we thought it best if you don't know who he is for now. We don't want to put him in a dangerous position." She picked up her coffee cup then and drank the cool water inside. Only after her thirst had been satisfied, did she continue. "Of course he isn't on duty for every shift, but since he's all we've got, he will have to do."

"Here are your cover stories and all the pertinent information on Kensington: the air ducts, sewer systems, possible ways in and out of the prison, yadda-yadda-yadda." She handed Mac and Victor each a thick file folder as she talked. "The shifts for the guards run every twelve hours, from 7 to 7. Make sure you memorise everything. I suggest you two go home now and get a good night's sleep. I think it will be the last one you'll get for a while."

"Umm,..." Mac started, "...how long will we be inside?"

The Director looked at Mac grimly. "As long as it takes for you two to find out why three healthy men who were supposed to be incarcerated are missing and presumed dead. Not to mention however long it'll take you two to find out why the fourth missing inmate was found dead in woods 100 kilometres away from where he was supposed to be."

"How will we get inside?" This came from Vic.

"You will entering the prison like every other convicted felon: in a law enforcement vehicle. In your case it will be in one of our lock-up vans. Dobrinsky will be driving." She turned away from Victor and Mac to speak to Li Ann. "And here's your cover..." The agent stood and took her file from the Director, browsing through it. The two women started walking away while in deep discussion, ignoring the men.

Mac looked at Vic and said casually in a high pitched voice and a bad English accent, "Looks like the queen has dismissed us. Shall we?" He swept his arm towards the glass doors.

Victor answered back with just a slightly better accented voice, "Lets. Lead on, MacDuff." Then in his normal voice, "Come on. We can go to my place and go over the material." Victor gave Mac a large grin and then fell into step behind him as he passed through the doors.

The Director would've been proud had she seen them now, getting along as well as they did. In fact, both men, when not in the presence of Li Ann, actually got on together much better than when she was around. They would talk and joke around as if they were at least acquaintances on good terms, if not friends. As the two of them headed out of the Agency and to their own cars, they continued their friendly back and forth banter and occasionally even laughed out loud.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac followed Victor to his apartment in his own car. As the late afternoon shadows passed into early evening darkness, the men sat across each other at Victor's small dining room table, sharing their cover names and stories with each other. They worked at committing the various maps of possible ways in and out of the prison to memory.

Each man had laughed at not only their own false names but each others: Victor Smith and Mac Jones. Both men wondered at the lack of imagination of somebody in the false ID department at the Agency.

At least, the agents agreed, they had decent rap sheets. Both were supposed to be armed robbers, specialising in jewellery stores and museums.

It was already pre-arranged that the two of them would be bunkmates in Kensington, even though they weren't supposed to be partners going in. They were both relieved at that arrangement, it would make things a whole lot easier on them.

Some time before midnight, Victor, with four beers under his belt, confided to Mac that he was more than a little nervous about being in Kensington.

"It's not the prison life I'm worried about, per se. I can do the cell time. That's no problem. But if even just one guy thinks he recognises me, then I'm toast. If I'm fingered as a cop, I don't think I'll live long enough to even call you for help." Victor chewed on his bottom lip nervously. Both of them knew that the risks of going in were far greater for Victor than for Mac.

"Don't worry, Vic. I promise I'll be there watching your back all the time. I swear." Mac smiled at his partner, trying to ease the other man's concerns.

The pair of agents clinked beer bottles and drank to Mac's declaration, which was an unspoken truce made to push aside the competitiveness between them for now.

After a beat, Mac looked at his watch and stood up, gesturing towards the paperwork laying all over the table top. "Well it's midnight already. If we don't know it by now, we never will. I better get going home. We have to be at the Agency at 9 am tomorrow. Try to get a good nights sleep."

Mac shrugged on his suit jacket and walked to the front door. He grasped the knob and pulled the door open, but before he could walk out, Victor grabbed his arm to hold him back.

Mac turned around with a questioning look. Victor searched his partner's eyes and then said seriously, "I got your back too, man."

Victor meant it too. He knew Mac would be getting the most amount of attention. The older man had to admit grudgingly that Mac was not a bad looking guy, in fact, on his good days, he could even be considered pretty. Victor had a clear picture of how his partner was going to look to the other horny inmates. Victor released Mac's arm and grabbed the side of the door, opening it up wider. M

ac smiled easily and answered, "I know you do, Vic." He saluted Victor briefly and passed through the door's threshold; casually walking down the hall, not looking at all like a man who was going to go to prison the very next morning.

Victor shut the door behind Mac and locked it. He leaned against it, suddenly feeling very, very tired. He hoped that The Director knew what she was doing by sending an ex-cop and a pretty boy into the largest and most dangerous prison in the country.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

All night long Victor tossed and turned in his bed, and when the high pitched ring of his phone cut through the quiet of his bedroom, interrupting his restlessness, he was grateful for it. He sat up immediately at the noise, and in the pre-dawn, autumn darkness made a perfect, blind grab for the receiver.

"Hello?" he asked in a deceptively sleepy voice. He swiped his hand across his forehead, and it came away moist. He grimaced slightly as he rubbed the sweat between his fingertips.

"It's me." Came Mac's cheerful reply. "Do you want to go to the agency together or in separate cars?"

Mac. Figures. He's always up earlier than me. Probably already had his work-out and breakfast. like this was just any other morning.

Victor grunted softly into the phone as he flicked his eyes sideways to look at the red digits on his bedside clock. "Do you know what time it is?" He complained, no real anger in his voice.

"Of course I know what time it is; it's 5:45 am. I just finished my work-out and I was thinking, if you didn't mind, maybe we could take your truck to work so I can leave my 'beamer here in the security garage."

"I should have known you wouldn't want to drive. Let me guess, you don't want to leave your wheels at the Agency in case someone starts getting nasty ideas about they could do to it."

"Hey, Dobrinski hates me; you know that. Who knows what he would do to my car if I left it unattended in lot for too long..."

" Sugar the gas tank? Or maybe spray-paint graffiti on it?" Victor cut in.

"You bet he'd do something like that. So how about it? Do you mind driving?"

"No, I don't mind." Victor preferred his driving to Mac's anyway. "I'll pick you up at eight."

"Come over earlier and I'll take you out for our last good breakfast before we start prison rations." Offered Mac. He was quite serious about it too. Like his partner, he had been in prison for a short while as well, and though he believed Canadian prison fare must be better than the food in a Hong Kong jail, he knew it still couldn't compare to food eaten in freedom. "See ya in a bit." He added and then hung up.

Victor sat for a minute after he had said goodbye to Mac, with the phone still in his hand. A chill ran down his still sweat-slicked spine. His thoughts had been temporarily side-tracked while talking to Mac on the phone, but here now in the early morning stillness, his memory of the nightmares that had caused his restlessness came back to him in small bits and pieces. Though he couldn't remember exactly everything of what he had dreamt, he knew that his dreams had mostly involved the time that he had been incarcerated. They had been of being segregated from the rest of prison population. Images of solitude, isolation and the burdening sense of loneliness and despair that he had felt on the first day serving his unjust jail sentence had come back to haunt him.

Another chill ran through him. He shook off the morose thoughts and slowly became aware of the monotonous dial tone coming from the phone. Victor hung up the phone, threw back his blankets and stood up. He padded softly over thick carpet to the open bedroom window and shut it, hoping that that was the source of his chills. Unfortunately, it wasn't.

He walked over to the large lazy-boy chair that was nestled against the wall in his room and picked up his robe, which was lying across it. He slipped it on and tied the belt haphazardly as he went down the dark hallway to the kitchen.

Once there he made a bee-line for the fridge to get his favourite brand of coffee beans. He sniffed in the rich scent and then scooped them into the basket. He continued to make his morning coffee using only the light of the fridge; his gloomy thoughts weren't quite ready for the lights yet.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac exited the security mini-bus first, followed closely by Victor. Stepping down and out the vehicle the Agency had provided was no easy feat since both men were shackled. They had heavy chains around their waists so that their wrists were held down against their sides, making it impossible for them to move their hands more than two inches in any direction. Also they were wearing ankle chains so they could not even separate their feet for more than eight inches apart.

It was a definite interference with maintaining balance.

Dobrinski had dressed for the part of a law enforcement officer and even acted like one too. He opened the bus door but did not assist the 'felons' out even though it was obvious they needed help. Mac stumbled but did not fall, much to Dobrinski's disappointment.

As soon as the two were out of the bus, the pair of under cover agents were led by a Kensington guard and flanked by two more, with Dobrinski bringing up the rear of the group. They were taken inside a small red brick building named by a sign overhead of the double steel doors as 'Reception: No Unauthorised Personal Allowed'.

Dobrinski signed the appropriate papers and forms but instead of staying to share a coffee and some banter with the other guards, he chose to be on his way. He smiled at the guards before turning sharply on his heel so that his back was to the other men and said gruffly to the two agents, "You two turds better behave yourselves." And then with a small smile playing about his mouth, he pointed at Mac and said to Victor, "Don't let this shit-head get you into more trouble than he already has."

Mac scowled at Dobrinski and Victor coughed lightly to cover up his grin but said nothing.

Dobrinski walked out of the door without so much as a backward glance to the agents.

The steel doors banged shut and both men knew that their last link to the outside world for the next few days, was gone. Neither one of them would be able to see the Director, or Li Ann until Monday morning, and since today was only Friday, who knew what would happen to them in the meantime.

They were completely on their own now.

"Okay, guys." A guard named 'Wang' said to the two men, "Follow me."

Wang turned on his heel and walked towards another set of steel doors, with the two agents following behind. He led them through a further set of double steel doors framed by a large metal detector. In front of another door, this one a single steel door with a window with bars in the middle, he paused to pull out his keys and unlock it.

Mac and Victor passed through and found themselves in a room that had two long benches against a wall on which sat four other men who were chained in the same manner as they were.

One man was Asian, another was Indo-Canadian while the other two were white. The Asian man looked as though he was probably only in his early twenties. He was relatively small in stature and very slender. Though he may have looked young, he was still able to relay a "don't fuck with me" message that came through loud and clear in his posture. The Indo-Canadian, on the other hand, was a much larger man. Even though he was sitting down, it was still obvious that he would be a very intimidating presence when he stood up. He was heavy-set with a very large beer belly, and both of his arms were covered with way too many bad tattoos.

The two men left were ordinary looking Caucasians; the only "unique" characteristic they had was that they were both scruffy and in need of a shower. Each had several days' growth of beard on their faces and identical looks of boredom in their expressions.

"Get up." Intoned a bored and overweight hack, who wore a nametag that simply read 'Leary'. The men stood up obediently at his command. Leary stated to Mac and Victor, "To the line, gentlemen."

The agents joined the others; Victor stood at the very end of the line next to Mac, who was next to the Asian inmate. The men stood evenly spaced with the tips of their toes on a long yellow line. The convicts were on one side of the line while Leary and the other guard, Wang, stood on the other side of it, one at each end.

As the men lined up, another hack came through a further locked door, this one on the opposite side of the sterile white tiled room. All the men behind the line could tell that he was no ordinary guard. Other than the fact that he wore a different uniform from the two guards, it was his demeanour that made him stand out. He had a definite air of authority. The guard seemed to be in his middle forties, and he had dark brown hair, which was peppered with just the right amount of grey. The 'in charge' hack's hair was typically short, just like all the other guards in the place. He was six feet tall and large framed; sturdy, with no evidence of excess fat at all. His steel-toed shoes shone brilliantly and so did his nightstick. Both Mac and Victor guessed correctly that this was the commanding officer.

He walked slowly up and down the line of prisoners studying each man, a disdainful expression in his deep brown eyes for each of them.

Mac felt like he was a bug under a microscope, while Victor, on the other hand, was getting pissed off at the C.O.'s attitude. The guy didn't know a thing about any of the men standing in the line, but Victor could see by the way the guard was looking at them that he was already forming pre-conceived opinions of all of them.

If the other prisoners felt uncomfortable under the gaze none of them showed or spoke it.

Victor didn't appreciate the man's condescending attitude or the ugly sneer on his face. His eyes were uncomfortably cold and there was a hint of ruthlessness in them as well. Some of the guys on his force had been like that; they ruled with a red right hand, as if they were above the law just because they worked for it. Victor had never got along with them, even though they were his colleagues. He had a feeling this guy was the same; he reeked of trouble.

When the commanding officer finished scrutinising the men, he came to a stand at the opposite end of the line from Victor.

"My name is John Dean Gant." The man spoke with a deep, surly voice, which boomed through the room. There was definitely no mistaking who was in charge here. "And I am the commanding officer in charge of the guards...and everyone else." He moved on and stopped in front of another inmate. He smiled coldly at the prisoner, slightly intimidating the man.

"I run this shit-hole! Not Warden Greer, not Under Warden James. Me. I run it! Now the law says that you need to be put away so you can learn to change your ways, learn to be better human beings. Believe me you sorry lot of pricks, I intend to do just that!"

Gant gave the first convict in line an unmistakable look of disdain before moving away slowly, walking past each man in the row as he continued reciting his 'welcome' speech.

"You will sleep on schedule, eat on schedule, shit, piss and brush your teeth on schedule. MY schedule! You no longer have any say in what you think or do. From today on, my opinions are your opinions." As he walked by Mac he yelled, "We will tell you where to go, and when to go there."

Gant came to a stand still directly in front of Victor again. He looked the agent up and down once, then stepped so close that they were almost nose to nose and said harshly as if he was speaking to Victor and Victor alone, "From here on in, until the day of you're release, your ass is mine."

Gant was so close that Victor could clearly feel the warm moisture of the man's breath upon his face. His eyes shot up and he stared defiantly at the commander, whose own eyes were gleaming with determined malice. Victor reminded himself that this was not the right man to pull the rebellious prisoner act with, even though the guy's rather stereotypical speech had made him want to laugh. He quickly lowered his eyes and gave Mac a quick sideways glance.

Mac narrowed his eyes at Gant. He didn't like being yelled at or being told what to do. The fact that the man was trying to intimidate them into good behaviour was not lost on him, but he was not impressed. He looked back and forth between the other two guards and saw that Wang's face showed no emotion while Leary's face was as bland as his voice had been.

A key rattled in the lock of the door that Gant had come through, and in walked yet another guard holding a clipboard with some papers on it. The guy's nametag read 'Walker'. He was only about 5'10" but very stocky, his large body-builder muscles almost seemed out of place on his short frame. He had deep blue eyes and a very short, light blond buzz-cut that was square, not rounded.

Gant turned and looked at the man over his shoulder, then pulled his nightstick out before taking a backwards step away from Victor. He continued on with his speech, "There will be two men to a cell, which from now on will be referred to as a pod. Keep your pods clean, gentlemen. Respect what little you do have. This is your only chance to change, so don't blow it."

All the while Gant was talking he tapped the shiny black nightstick into the palm of his left hand and Mac thought that he was doing it unconsciously, the way a person would bite their nails or grind their teeth. The motion was irritating to the young agent, though he didn't know why. Mac bit his tongue and fumed silently.

Gant reached blindly out with one outstretched arm and the hack named Walker, on silent cue, deposited the clipboard in his hand then stood one step behind and beside his C.O.

"Ok, you'll all be in B block, Chang and Singh, Tomson and Gorman," he called out while glancing at the Asian, the Indo-Canadian, and then the two Caucasian convicts in that order, "You guys are pod- mates. Smith and Jones," Gant looked up from the clipboard and smirked at Victor and Mac, "Kinda has a nice ring to it, don't it? Okay you two are pod-mates as well so get used to looking at each other."

Gant walked back to Victor who happened to be staring at his feet, and said, "Leary, Wang, get started on the body search on these five."

He pointed his finger at Mac and then swept it down to Gorman on the other end. He jabbed Victor hard in the chest with his index finger. "I think Mr. Smith here is hiding contraband; he can't seem to look me in the eyes."

Victor snapped his eyes front and centre in surprise and looked at the C.O. directly. "What? No way! I'm not muling anything!" He blurted out defiantly.

Oh shit! Then thought a split second later Maybe I shouldn't have done that.

He glanced back down quickly, hoping the outburst would be over looked. He didn't dare look at Mac, but just kept his head down. He could feel his own cheeks warm under the Commander's steady gaze.

Without warning, Gant slammed the tip of his nightstick square into Victor's stomach, causing the agent to double over with pain, his breath pushed out of him. "Shut up! " Gant shouted. "I thought I told you that you have no say in here."

Mac made a motion towards Victor, intending on helping him, but Gant stuck out his stick and stopped Mac by poking him firmly in the stomach with it. "Back in line shit-head." He warned quietly.

Mac looked around him and saw that the guards were ready to pounce should he try anything stupid; he had no choice but to obey.

Gant stared down at Victor, then he looked over his shoulder to Walker and instructed, "Take this prisoner to exam room three." Walker went over to Victor and hauled the gasping agent up to his feet and without a word, dragged him through the door in which the guard had come through earlier.

Mac watched his partner go with a frown. He was very worried for Victor but confident that they wouldn't find anything on his partner. He hoped that Victor would go along with them so they wouldn't have an excuse to hurt him further.

Gant looked to Leary then Wang and nodded his head as he passed through the same door that Walker and Vic had gone through. As soon as the commander was gone, Leary barked out loudly, "All right you heard the man. Strip, you losers!"

As Mac began removing his clothing, he couldn't help but wonder what was happening to Victor.

Damn, only in the joint for less than an hour and already there's trouble. Wouldn't the leather freak be amazed that it's not me this time!

Mac sighed deeply and as he knelt and untied his shoelaces, his mind still with his partner.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor began to struggle as soon as the door clanged shut behind Walker and him. Not a man to put up with acts of defiance in any way, shape, or form, Gant grabbed Victor by the hair and pulled his head back harshly as far as he could.

"Listen, you prick. Fighting will only make it worse on you. I will NOT tolerate any kind of bullshit. Understand?"

When no reply was immediately forthcoming, Gant tightened his grip on Victor's hair and yelled, "I said, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

The excruciatingly tight hold Gant had on Victor's hair made it virtually impossible for him to talk, all he could do was whisper a low and breathless "yes" in reply.

"Good." Gant told Victor in an almost sincere voice. Then he stood and nodded his head at Walker, who took the signal and released Victor's arm. The minute Walker let go, Gant swung his fist and it landed squarely on the side of Victor's face.

Victor, completely caught unaware by the attack, fell to his knees from the impact. Squatting down Gant grabbed Victor under the chin and forced him to meet his eyes as he said to the dazed man, "Don't faint yet, Smith. We're just getting started."

Just as he had said that, another guard came in and interrupted the scene by clearing his throat loudly to catch his commander's attention. Gant turned to him with a furious look, which made the younger man very nervous. "Ex-excuse me, sir. But I, um, I have a message for you. It's important," he stammered.

Gant looked back at Victor for another second before letting him go. He stood up and said to Walker, "I want you to take him to the examining room and make sure he knows who's in charge by the time I get there."

As Walker was dragging Victor away down the hall he clearly heard the younger guard say to Gant, "Warden Greer has been trying to reach you. He wants to talk to you immediately. There seems to be a situation and...."

Walker jammed his key forcefully into the lock and kicked the door open to exam room three with one booted foot. He hauled Victor through and then kicked the door close behind them. He pushed Victor to the floor and the agent hit the cold white tiles like a sack of potatoes. Walker pulled his baton out from his belt and began to hit Vic over the left side of his ribs repeatedly. The blows were hard enough to create deep red and purple bruises along the bony protrusions of Vic's ribs but not quite enough to fracture or break them.

From years of practice, Walker had learned exactly how much force was needed to bruise a man and how much was needed to break bones.

Victor made low guttural sounds through his beating but stubbornly refused to cry out. After a few more blows, the beating finally stopped. It took a while for Victor to catch his breath and when he was sure he wouldn't pass out from the pain, he rolled onto his hands and knees and looked up to meet the guard's eyes. "Look, man, I'm not hiding anything! I swear it."

When Walker reached for him, Victor couldn't help flinching slightly as he thought he was about to be hit again. But instead, Walker only wrapped his hand around Vic's left biceps. The guard dug his fingers into the man's muscle and used the grip to pull him up on his feet. "From now on, when Gant tells you to do something, you do it. No arguments. The same goes for me. When I tell you to 'jump', you ask me how high."

As if to emphasise his point, Walker pushed Victor against the wall and pinned him there, both with his own barrel of a chest and by holding the agent's face tightly by the chin with his large hand. He stared at Victor with an intense gaze for a minute before giving him a half smile and taking a step back while keeping his grip on Victor's face. He forced Victor to turn his head left, then right. Walker continued to scrutinise Victor for a few more seconds in silence. He then made a "hmmph" sound and finally released his hold on the agent's chin. Victor watched the man warily as he took a few steps back, wishing he could lift his own chained hands to rub some circulation back in to his cheeks.

While leering at Victor, Walker stated casually, "Now I can see why Gant would want to examine you himself."

Victor started in surprise. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded with uncertainly.

Walker gave a genuine bark of laughter at the agent's nave question, and the worried look on his face. "What? You can't guess?" Walker shook his head in disbelief when he saw the blank look on Victor's face. "Man, do I have to spell it out for you? All right, I guess I have to. Let me put it bluntly: Gant wants to have his dick up your ass first before the rest of the shit-heads in this dump get a hold of you." Walker chuckled nastily.

Victor gave Walker an incredulous look. "You-you can't be serious. He can't do that! He's-he's the C.O.!" The idea of Gant having the hoots for him was fairly alarming to Vic; or rather, the idea of any guy in this joint wanting to jump his bones was alarming. And to think, he had been worried about Mac's virtue!

Walker shook his head again and smirked. "Yeah well, you just keep on believing that, sweetie, even while Gant is pounding away on you. And I'm sure he will too since you're exactly his type." Walker shrugged and uncrossed his arms, said in a practical tone, "Get use to it, Smith. Sooner or later, every guy in here is gonna try to fuck you. Gant just likes to do it before everyone else."

Before Vic could respond, he heard the sound of the door unlocking and in came the man who was being discussed. Gant's eyes immediately trained on Victor even though his words were directed at Walker instead, "You're needed in the tower for a few. Tether the prisoner and remove his ankle chains. You can come back in thirty minutes; the search should be complete by then." As he said this, his eyes were sweeping up and down Victor's body. The expression in his eyes was that of a predator. When his eyes met the agent's again, he licked his lips.

"Gotcha," Walking replied knowingly to Gant. The guard strode over to the table that stood against another wall in the room and picked up a long, thick piece of leather that had large silver metal clasps on either end of it.

To Victor, it resembled an extra long dog leash. He inhaled deeply in concern.

Walker returned to stand in front of Vic and reaching out with an arm, he spun the prisoner around quickly. He clipped one end of the restraining device to a metal loop at the small of Victor's back, which was attached to his waist chain. Walker then reached a few feet over Victor's head and clipped the other end of the "belt" to a large eyehook anchored in the tiled wall. Kneeling down, he used his key to remove the cuffs and chain that had restrained Victor's legs. When he was done, he strode out the room without another word, leaving Victor alone for the first time with Gant.

From the way he was restrained, Victor felt, and was, completely helpless. He knew the device would prevent him from moving any considerable amount of distance in any direction. What Walker had told him about Gant's intentions made him even more nervous; he was praying to the God he'd known as a child that Walker was only trying to 'psyche' him out.

Gant gave him another hard look before going over to the small table. He began removing his pepper spray and keys and placing them on the table next to a box of rubber gloves, a tube of lubricant, and a set of the clothes that was the prison's uniform. He left his baton hanging on the loop of his utility belt and from the pocket of his uniform he pulled out a small switchblade. As he approached Victor, who was getting as nervous as hell, he pushed a small button on the weapon and out popped a three-inch blade that looked very sharp.

"Hey, shouldn't there be another guard in here or something when you search me?" Victor asked apprehensively.

Gant gave Victor an almost evil smile and replied, "Yeah but he was needed elsewhere so I'm gonna start without him." Placing the point of the knife underneath Victor's chin, Gant forced the man backwards until his back was up against the wall. He then reached out and grabbing the neck of Victor's plain white T-shirt, cut through the thin material and split it down the middle with a quick flick of his wrist. Victor looked down wide-eyed at the trail of blood the blade left on his chest where Gant had pushed the blade too far through his shirt.

There was only a faint sting from the wound for the cut was only superficial, but it still alarmed Victor and moved him to protest angrily, "You can't do this, dammit! You're violating my rights!"

"Rights?" Gant snorted derisively. "Rights. In case you forgot, you're in prison now. My prison! So the only right here is my right to do anything I damn well want to."

In one quick motion, Gant reached over with his other hand to pull Vic's T-shirt out of his pants and completed his task of cutting the shirt apart. He then forced Victor forward and away from the wall by putting his hand on the back of Vic's neck firmly.

Walking behind Victor, he quickly cut the arms of the shirt with practised efficiency so that it fell away, down to the ground, like a used Kleenex tossed carelessly away. Gant went back to stand in front of his captive again, this time reaching out and slicing off the top button of Victor's jeans despite his protest. When his blade caught in the small square opening at the top of the zipper tab, Victor froze in horror; the thought of castration ran across his mind automatically.

Luckily, Gant only used his knife to pull the brass teeth on his jeans apart slowly, one by one. When the last pair of teeth was separated, he pulled down both the agent's jeans and underwear in one motion. His hands were cold against the warm flesh of his hips, making Victor shiver in reaction.

Victor shot Gant a dark scowling look of disapproval and was about to protest when the C.O. pulled out his baton and before Victor could react, thrust the weapon in between the agent's legs, snugly below his bare genitals. Victor sucked in his breath sharply and blurted out, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Gant kept the stick where it was and pulled up on it slightly, causing Victor some pain and discomfort. "Shut up and do exactly as I say or I promise you won't make it out of this examining room in one piece. Got it?" To emphasise his words, he drew the cold wooden stick even further up, forcing Vic's balls up against his body.

Victor found himself rising to his tiptoes in order to avoid the baton's unpleasant pressure against his balls. He grunted and glared but did not reply. All he could think about was if he weren't chained down right now, he would beat Gant to a bloody pulp. Being in chains made him vulnerable, a position he did not like. All he wanted to do now was get this strip-search over with so he could get back to Mac and their pod.

There was safety in numbers.

However, despite his unease, he still didn't think the C.O. was really intent on sexually assaulting him. He wanted to believe that the man was just trying to intimidate him, to make sure he knew who the top dog in the pound was. At least Victor hoped that Gant was only trying to intimidate him.

Suddenly Gant pulled his baton out from between Victor's thighs and replaced it back on his belt. Victor sank back to flat feet in relief. He stared mutely at the guard, who by now was beginning to perspire.

"Don't try anything stupid. I don't want to have to mess up your pretty face," Gant warned as he kneeled down and pulled off Victor's Nike Air runners and plain white tube socks. He reached up and grasping both jeans and underwear, tugged them down until he had the material pooled around Victor's ankles. He left them there, and standing up, instructed Victor to step out of his clothes.

Victor did as told, albeit reluctantly and with a grim set to his mouth.

Without looking down, Gant then used one foot to sweep away the remains of Victor's street clothing. The man stepped back and went over to the table again to pull out a pair of latex gloves from the box. He wordlessly pulled on the gloves before crossing back to Victor.

Victor was beginning to feel embarrassed about his state of undress. What the hell kind of game is he playing?

Gant, on the other hand, liked what he saw, very much. The minute he had laid eyes on Victor, he'd known this was where they would end up. He always got the new 'fish' first, before they were broken and ruined by the other cons. Gant knew that both Smith and Jones would be the cause of countless fights between men vying for sexual favours from these two new and great-looking prisoners. He could've had both of them, but Victor Smith was more to his taste than Mac Jones. Jones was younger and prettier, but Smith had the kind of hard edge that Gant found hard to resist.

He loved stealing the hard edge from the eyes of guys like Vic. Not to mention the fact that Vic's big green eyes surrounded by all those dark lashes were damn sexy. When Gant finished his lewd appraisal of Victor, he went to stand at his side and grasped the man's head to begin the 'examination' for contraband. He tipped Victor's head to inspect closely. He did this for first the right ear, then the left. Next he ran his fingers through Victor's very short hair, feeling for pins, razor blades or any one of the myriad of small metal pieces that convicts might try to smuggle into the joint on any given day. When he was satisfied with the head examination, Gant began the body search by shoving his fingers in Vic's armpits and roughly digging them around the dark hair there. Though Gant could see that Victor didn't have enough chest hair to conceal so much as a bobby-pin, he nevertheless ran his fingers down the agent's chest and even brazenly passing the palms of his hands over Victor's nipples, making the small discs harden. Victor looked away in chagrin and tried to put his mind anywhere else but here in the room with this man. Gant then gave Victor a shove so that his back was once again against the cold, tiled wall. Crouching down, he looked up at Victor and smirked, "You never know where a con might try to hide things."

With that he thrust his hand between Victor's legs and ran a gloved finger over his perineum before bringing his hand out to cup Victor's scrotum. Victor cringed in response. After making sure that Victor was not concealing anything underneath his balls and in his pubic hair, Gant felt up both of Victor's muscular legs. "Lift your foot," Gant commanded and Victor complied. The man examined the underside of both of Victor's feet.

Satisfied, Gant stood up and reached into his uniform pocket to pull out a small penlight. Instructing Victor to "open wide", he shown the tiny bright light all around the inside of Victor's mouth, checking it thoroughly. Done with that, he shut the light off and re-pocketing it, stood and grabbed Victor harshly by the neck to pull him forward. Gant pulled out his baton again and tapped it in the palm of his left hand rhythmically as he slowly circled around Victor.

"Let's see how your other orifice checks out!" Gant exclaimed suddenly, as he swung and struck Victor on the backs of his knees, adding another set of bruises to the ones that were already on his ribs and in the middle of his stomach.

The blow caused Victor to buckle and fall as far as he could go to his knees. Though he tried to stop himself, he cried out in pain anyway. He was once again completely caught off guard, and he was at loss as to what had caused Gant to strike out at him out of the blue like that. As he knelt there, bent over as far as the tether would allow, trying to get some air into his lungs, Gant grabbed a handful of Vic's hair and yanked him back up to a standing position. Victor couldn't help crying out again from the burst of pain he felt on his scalp. Victor felt a sharp slap on his lower back and then Gant's arm reaching around his lips to force him to bend over at the waist. He was forced to straighten his knees; the position was very uncomfortable, for the backs of his knees were still throbbing from the blow.

Kicking at Victor's ankles, Gant forced the agent's legs open so that his feet were about two feet apart. "Don't move," Gant growled into Victor's ear before walking away again.

Victor had felt cold when he had first been forced to strip, but now his body felt hot and he was even sweating lightly; his legs and ankles felt as if they were on fire. Victor's head was beginning to throb in time with the ache in his legs as he fought for balance he brought his eyes up to see what Gant was doing. He saw that the man had put down his stick and was in the process of pulling on a new set of latex gloves. Even from where he was, Victor could see that Gant was sporting an erection.

Oh shit. Not good!

"What are you doing?" asked Victor weakly suddenly feeling very tired.

Ignoring the other man's question, Gant removed his utility belt, placing the heavy leather on the table top, then he picked up a small tube of KY jelly and turned to show it to Victor. "I'm thinking, a guy like you will probably have seen enough action so I don't think you'd be needing use of this." He raised his eyebrows at Victor and then dropped the tube back to the tabletop.

"No way. Use it. Use the damn lube and get this goddamned body search over with." Victor was surprised at how calm his voice sounded even though he was at the point of panic underneath. The thought of feeling that bastard's finger in his ass made him downright nauseous.

Gant poked at the tube with his finger but did not pick it up again. "Nah, I don't think you need it." He smiled cruelly at Victor but the agent was no longer looking at him. Turning back to the table, he dug around the box of latex gloves and found what he was searching for, a condom. He had concealed it amongst the gloves at the bottom of the box. He looked back at Victor as he dropped the small foil package into his breast pocket. He wanted Victor badly but at the same time, he was no fool; no matter how clean Victor looked, the guy could still have AIDS. Granted, his medical records did say he had tested negative, but Gant wanted to play it safe. His wife would have his balls if he came home with a case of the 'Clap', let alone a killer like AIDS. He draped a small white towel over his shoulder then walked behind Victor to admire his smooth, round ass. Gant loved it when he had a prisoner in his control this way. Sighing, he glanced quickly at his watch and saw that Walker would be back in another ten minutes or so.

Better get on with it, he thought with a small degree of regret, for he would've loved to admire Vic's ass a little longer. He knew this would probably be the last time he'd ever see them so perfect. Who knew what condition Vic, or his ass would be in after the other prisoners were done with him.

With a slow lick of his lips, he put his left hand on the small of Victor's back and without so much as a warning brutally pushed his forefinger into Victor's dry, virgin rectum. Victor howled in agony and tried to pull away from the probing digit, which was beginning to thrust in and out of his anus, but his struggles were futile. The tether saw to that. Now Victor knew why Gant had wanted him restrained that way; not to make an attempt at escaping from the room impossible, but to make escape from Gant impossible.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac stood in line unfettered and naked awaiting his turn to be checked. He started when he suddenly heard a scream. Though it was muffled by cement walls and steel doors, Mac knew immediately that it was coming from Victor. His heart was racing and the hairs stood up on his arms.

Jesus. Victor, what the hell are they doing to you?

All of a sudden he was very, very afraid for his partner.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Gant laughed and pushed in another finger to go with the two that were already inside of Victor. He had long since determined that Victor was in fact clean of any illegal drugs and devices. He knew that the dry entry would be painful for his captive, but that only made his erection all the more hard. In fact, Victor's struggles turned him on more, confirming the fact that he was in total command of the whole situation.

Victor fought to control his breathing and his body's reactions, thinking that this would be over soon. All he had to do was endure the disgusting and agonising intrusion for just a little while more. To his extreme relief, the invading fingers were finally pulled away. Somewhere behind him he heard the sound of paper ripping. Confused, he was about to turn his head to see what was happening when to his total shock and horror, Commander Gant shoved his sheathed cock all the way into Victor's ass with one hard, deep, and brutal thrust.

Victor screamed. The pain was so excruciating that Victor thought he was going to pass out. In fact, he was fervently hoping he would so that he would no longer have to feel the searing hot pain caused by the ripping of his tender tissue by Gant's barbaric and unrelenting cock. Victor heard someone screaming in time with Gant's thrust, and it took him a moment before he realised it was himself.

No! I am not giving him the satisfaction.

And with that, he bite into his lower lip hard, hard enough to draw a spurt of blood, to stop himself from screaming anymore. He couldn't help emitting slight grunts, but at least that was better than screaming.

Gant grabbed a hold of Victor's shoulders and dug his fingers into the flesh. The man beneath him had since ceased to struggle and holler. He was so tight that Gant knew that he wouldn't be able to last more than a few seconds longer. He leaned over Victor's back and increased his pace. Then he leaned over further and did something he had never done to another felon: he bit the back of Victor's neck, hard. Not quite hard enough to break the skin, however, but hard enough to leave teeth marks and a bruise that would stay for a few days.

Victor could feel every thrust as Gant pushed into him faster and faster; he could even feel the hot drops of sweat that poured off of Gant and landed on his back. He no longer had the strength or the will to keep fighting. Victor could feel the sweet sensation of blackness coming over him, and he wanted nothing more than to fall into the darkness of oblivion, but before he could fully pass out, Gant grunted his pleasure loudly, and came. As soon as Gant was finished cumming he pulled out. He watched as Victor fell to his knees, unable to support his body any longer.

Thoroughly satisfied, Gant looked down at his cock and saw that there was a good deal of blood on his condom. Carefully, he peeled off the used latex and tied a knot in the end, tossing it into the trashcan that sat near the table. Gant used the towel that was draped on his shoulder to wipe up some of the blood, mixed with semen, that stained Victor between his butt cheeks. Then he pulled up his pants and refastened his belt buckle. As he walked away from the kneeling man, who was oblivious to his surroundings; he peeled off his gloves and tossed them in the trash along with the towel.

Gant straightened his uniform one last time before turning to look at Victor, who was beginning to pull himself up into a standing position in a very slow fashion. When he was upright, the agent leaned one bruised shoulder against the wall in order to support himself.

Victor's mind was numb with shock. He couldn't believe that Gant had raped him. His brain couldn't accept it. Didn't want to accept it. His whole body suddenly felt very cold and he wanted to withdraw into himself completely until he no longer existed.

Gant continued to watch Victor steadily. After a few minutes, he said in a light mocking tone, "I guess you were right. I should've used the lube." The lock clicked then and both heads in the room turned to see Walker come into the exam room. Gant refastened his belt and replaced his pepper spray, keys and baton on it and started to leave. But just before leaving the room, he turned around quickly to Victor one last time and said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, "I told you your ass was mine." He then walked out the door and shut it quietly behind himself.

As soon as the bastard was out of the room, Victor's legs gave out and he slid to the floor in a daze. Walker shook his head contemptuously. "Man, are you weak. You've only been fucked once and you're already broken? You sure as hell aren't gonna last long in here," he taunted.

It took a beat for the words to sink in, but when they did, Vic turned to Walker and glared at him, his eyes shooting daggers. Walker only laughed. "Hey, and I haven't even had a piece of you yet. Why don't you save your poison until I do?"

With that, Walker walked over to the table to pick up Victor's new prison uniform and a small bag with the necessary toiletries. Victor's hard gaze never left Walker's face but the other man only chuckled in delight. He undid the harness that was holding Victor to the wall and grasping Victor's arm roughly, giving him a hard tug to make him stand up.

"You think you're in trouble, wait 'til the other guys see your pod-mate," Walker said as they left the exam room.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac and the rest of the chain gang were standing in single file facing a door that would take them to the large shower room for prisoners who were being processed. Mac was at the end of the line of men, and in his arms he was holding his prison garb along with towels, a bar of soap and a razor. The men stood in silence, waiting impatiently for their turn in the shower.

"What's the friggin' hold up? It's colder than my ex-wife's snatch in here! When are we goin' to the showers?" complained one of the two scruffy white guys.

Officer Wang strolled over to the complainer and wrinkled his nose in disgust as soon as the stench emanating from the scraggy con hit him. "Jesus Christ! Gorman, you smell like garbage. When's the last time you saw a bar of soap?" Wang looked the man up and down and shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. And you'll go to the showers when I say you can, so shut the hell up."

Wang turned and walked away without waiting for a response, relieved that he was no longer breathing in the prisoner's rank odour.

A few minutes later, the door that led to the other hallway clanged open. In walked Victor, naked with his head down, clutching his bundle of clothing and toiletries bag tightly to his chest. Mac turned his head to look as Walker, who had a tight hold on Victor's left arm, brought him across the room to stand in line behind Mac. The other convicts, who had turned to look at Victor when he came in, now turned their heads quickly back to look straight ahead. All the men knew to mind their own business; it was advice to live by in a place like Kensington. Mac, however, did not turn away; he stared wide-eyed at his partner, unable to take his eyes off of Victor and the abused shape his body was in.

Victor had glanced up at Mac quickly when he came into the room, but other than, did not look Mac in the eye directly. He couldn't bear to. Victor was sure that Mac only needed to take one look at him to guess what Gant had done to him during the search. He felt a burdening sense of shame and anger; anger that was directed at himself for getting into this situation and then letting that bastard rape him. His body ached all over, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his rectum, which was magnified by the torment he felt in his mind. He didn't think that pain would ever go away; it would be a permanent reminder of what he had allowed another man to do to him. A reminder of his moment of disastrous weakness.

Never. I am NEVER gonna let that happen to me again.>

In his line of work he was used to being shot at, even captured and confined, and on occasion beaten, but never had the scum that he dealt with on a daily basis tried to do anything remotely close to what Gant had done. Victor bit down on his lip, which was still bleeding from earlier when he had done the same, tasted the coppery blood and swore to himself that he would kill anyone who came near him from today on for as long as they were in here. And he would rip anyone's eyes out if they so much as mention the incident.

"Alright, you assholes," Leary was saying, "Time to shower. Man, Gorman, you stink!" Somewhere in the line one of the other cons agreed with both guards' opinion by grumbling, 'No kidding'. With a grimace, Leary pulled his keys out to unlock the door to the shower room and waved the men in.

Mac desperately wanted to turn around to take a better look at Victor, to talk to him but Wang, who was at the back end of the line, stated severely, "No talking in the ranks you shitheads, so shut up."

As Victor went past Wang, the guard noted the bruises running up and down the left side of the agent's body and immediately recognised Walker's handiwork.

He really did a number this time. He must have a thing for this guy.

Wang shook his head in sympathy, but said nothing, it wasn't his place to comment.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Wang and Leary waited on the other side of the only entrance to the large, open shower room. Not so much to give the men their privacy, but rather because neither guard wanted to get wet, and besides, they liked to sneak a smoke during shower time so they wouldn't have to wait for their coffee break.

The shower room was large, about thirty feet in width and length with thirty long shower heads. There were no dividers to provide any kind of privacy for the inmates so the men who were pod-mates quickly paired up to take their showers together away from everyone else.

Victor and Mac stood side by side, showering in an uncomfortable silence. Victor's silence was due to his inner turmoil while Mac's was due to the fact that he didn't quite know what to say. He didn't even know how to ask Victor what had happened even though he was dying to find out. While he pondered about it, Mac turned around to let some of the hot spray wash over his back. He watched the water from the showers swirl down the large drain hypnotically. Suddenly he saw the water change from clear to light red. Startled, he continued to stare down at the drain for a few more seconds before it finally registered in him that he was seeing blood mingled with water going down the drain. He knew it couldn't be any of the other four cons since they were too far away and he knew that the blood definitely wasn't coming from himself....

Oh shit! It's Victor's!

As soon as the realisation struck, Mac snapped his head up to look at Victor, only to find that Victor was watching him. He had been looking at Mac as he was watching the blood go down the drain. From the nasty scratches down his chest to the round purple bruise that circled his navel, the result of being hit with the baton, Victor was six feet of black and blue. Mac couldn't help but notice the purplish-red bruising along his partner's ribcage as well. Earlier, when Victor turned around to face the shower spray, Mac had caught a glimpse of the backs of Victor's knees and saw that they were also a nasty shade of violet, mottled with red and blue streaks. However, Mac didn't think the bruises or the small scratches down Victor's chest were the cause of the red run off, so what could it be? Then he noticed something else: there were several small bruises up and down Victor's thighs and buttocks which had small bleeding lacerations. The bruises looked as if they could have been caused by fingers....

Oh God.

Mac met Victor's eyes again. He had a sick feeling that something more than just a thorough strip search had taken place in that room with Gant. Mac saw a look of immense sadness flicker across Vic's eyes for just one split second before a mask of coolness and detachment settled over the other agent's features again. He continued to hold Victor's eyes even though the other man was completely unreadable.

Finally, Mac cleared his throat and whispered, "Victor, what...what happened to you in there?"

At first, Mac didn't think Vic was going to reply; but after a long pause, the other man finally gave Mac a weak smile and replied, "I'm okay. Really. Ga-," Victor swallowed, "Gant just got a bit carried away with the c-cavity search is all." When he saw Mac glance at his ribcage, he added, "Walker got a bit rough showing me who the 'real' boss was. And that fucking asshole Gant used a couple of more fingers than he needed to when he was searching my...ass for hidden objects." Victor shrugged his shoulders and tried to smile at Mac again, attempting not only to reassure his partner but also himself that he was indeed okay. "I'm fine, really, Mac. Gant, he...tore me up a bit but...that's all." As an afterthought, he added, "I'll live."

"Gant!" Mac growled, "That bastard! I hope he's involved in all of this so I can have the pleasure of kicking his ass all over the Agency's interrogation room! I'll give HIM a cavity search!"

Victor turned away quickly to maintain his deceivingly calm facade. As he started soaping up his short hair, he mumbled, "I hear ya, brother."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Kensington was the newest prison in the country, with state-of-the-art facilities. The entrance to the prison, which also served as an exit, was controlled by a fail-safe computer system with a built-in back-up system in case of a power failure. In addition, the 'main gate' - as it was called - was monitored by four guards who were safely ensconced behind bulletproof glass.

Each cell block had one control room which enabled the officers to monitor the whole block. The control room had ten monitors, each connected to a different camera that continuously recorded the movements of the population within any particular cell block. In addition, the control room guards also had to give permission to anyone who wanted to enter or leave the block since they operated the automatic lock on those doors. The guards that walked the blocks only had keys to the rooms within the block--even they could not enter or leave the block they were in without the guard in the control room granting access. As a result, the hacks maintaining peace inside the blocks were as much prisoners as the inmates themselves. They basically had to rely on the men in the control room to get them out of harm's way should the need arise, since they only carried a baton, cuffs, and zap straps. The actual artillery was kept locked up in the control room.

Kensington consisted of five prison blocks, which was basically five buildings surrounding a large courtyard. Block A and B sat side by side on the north side of the property and housed felons whose crimes ranged from auto theft to multiple murders. The two blocks were connected to each other in two manners: underground there was a series of service tunnels, corridors and hallways. The underground service tunnels and hallways were off-limits to the inmates; only guards and other employees of the prison were allowed to use them. The corridors were open to the inmates; the men were allowed to come and go through these corridors without requiring permission since they were connected to the various work stations, the weight room, gym, and library. Basically, almost everything was underground save for the cafeteria, kitchen, and a lounge for the smokers since smoking was not allowed anywhere else. As a result of this arrangement, the underground walkways were a maze of storage closets, service ways, and locked doors.

Blocks A and B were also connected on the first floor by a common cafeteria and kitchen which took up half the length between the two buildings. Behind the cafeteria and facing the courtyard was a fenced area with basketball courts set up for the inmates of the two blocks. Due to the volume of inmates, and in an effort to cut down on gang affiliations and activity throughout both blocks, each level was assigned a specific time to be outside in the courtyard.

C Block, which was on the east side, was a building standing unto its own. It consisted of two floors of solitary cells, three-fourths of which were currently occupied by inmates who had been sentenced as either a punishment for unruly behaviour or for their own safety. If a convict 'ratted' out another he would usually end up in a cell all alone in C block for his safety. All meals for the inmates of C block were cooked on-site in a small kitchen by a company contracted from the outside by the prison. This was done to eliminate any chances of vengeful inmates tampering with the food.

D Block held the sexual deviants and rapists. They had to be kept segregated from the rest of the regular population for their own protection. Past experience from other prisons taught the administrators of Kensington to segregate the sexual deviants since they usually didn't live very long. Child molesters especially, would get beaten to death after only a week in prison. So to prevent lawsuits and filing reports, the planners of Kensington had decided to let the sexual deviants and rapists have their own block completely.

Finally, E Block housed the criminally insane. It was a secure psychiatric ward with qualified psychiatrists and doctors to look after the inmates. E block sat on the west side, surrounded by a large, chain-linked, razor-wire topped fence. It was also a block with its entire own facilities including the same company cooking its residents' meals too. Even their guards were trained psychiatric nurses.

Mac and Vic were assigned to Block B. Even though the two buildings were joined, the men in A and B blocks rarely got to interact with one another since recreation and meal times were scheduled so that the two different blocks were never together at the same time. There were sixty-four pods on each level of Block B; the pods were split evenly down the middle by a walkway so that there were thirty-two pods on each side. At the moment, all the prisoners were standing in front of their pods waiting for the after- lunch headcount to end before moving off to their individual duties or recreational activities for the afternoon.

Wang had the guard in the control room buzz open the main doors and then directed the newcomers into Block B. All of the men in the group looked around at their new environment. Mac was amazed at the low hum that was vibrating throughout the whole place. The prison in Hong Kong had been noisy as hell; the inmates were especially excited when new blood was coming in. But compared to here, that place was as quiet as a tomb.

The inmates were just talking amongst themselves and at a relatively discreet sound level at that. The room itself looked sunny and strangely cheerful due to the large, very thick paned windows at the end of the walkway. Mac's expectations of what it would be like coming in here were beginning to go way off the mark from what he had envisioned. The prison in Hong Kong was a dark and dingy little crap-hole compared to here.

To Victor, the place sounded like the world's largest bee-hive. He was in awe at the shear volume of people in such a small space while impressed at the same time by how controlled they seem to be.

The men were given their pod numbers and then instructed to follow Wang. He pointed each pair to their pods. During this time, an eerie hush had come over the block as the inmates finally noticed the newcomers and focused all their attention on them. When the last pair before Victor and Mac were shown their pod, as if on cue, a barrage of cat calls aimed entirely at the two agents began.

"Eewwww-eee! Fresh Fish!" someone yelled, it was followed by a string of kissing and obscene smacking noises, mixed in with the standard wolf whistles. Victor's cheeks reddened slightly as his brain began picking out the various catcalls and taunts being yelled out to Mac and himself. He heard someone close by shout out, "Hey baby green eyes, need a daddy?" He tried to maintain a tight control over his emotions; he was extremely uncomfortable with all the shouting that was directed towards him. Still, he held his head high and found that anger and resentment was slowly bubbling to the surface, replacing the discomfort he felt. It was all he could do to not give into the rage of being on display. Victor wanted to know how Mac was doing, so he hurried and fell into step beside his partner. He glanced over at his partner and saw that Mac's face was barely reacting to the shouting and whistling at all; the only thing to give him away was the slight pink tinge to his ears.

Victor heard another taunt, "Lamb chops for dinner tonight, gonna eat me two of them!" He looked to Mac, who apparently, had heard it too.

Mac smiled reassuringly at Victor and whispered out of the side of his mouth, "It's almost over."

In reality, it had only taken the men less than one minute to walk the long stroll to their pod, but it had felt like a life time to Victor. He was not used to this at all. He had never actually been in with the regular prison crowd during the brief time that he had been incarcerated.

Wang unlocked their pod and the men hurriedly followed him in. He had to close the door in order for his instructions to be heard; the shouting was so loud. As he began to speak, a buzzer went off, signalling the end of the headcount, and the main doors that lead to the various work and recreational areas were unlocked. The rowdy B Block population began to slowly file out of the living area, making it possible for Wang to speak in a normal voice.

"If I were you two, I'd be careful about walking around alone for awhile...," he said with a smirk as he glanced over his shoulder at some of the cons who were still standing outside of their pods, staring in at them. He turned back to the men and added, "I have a feeling you'll be the favourite...ah...targets for some of the more aggressive guys in here. Don't worry though, that will probably change as soon as someone transfers out, and some new guys come in."

He yelled at the lingering inmates to move on before turning back to the two men and continuing, "Here's your rules sheet and rights book." He handed both Mac and Vic sheets of paper and a thin pocket size booklet. "Read 'em and learn 'em both."

At the sight of the rights book, Victor wanted to laugh out loud. After what happened to him, he knew that booklet had no real meaning in a place like Kensington. It was all just a bunch of bullshit. Smoke and mirrors. But instead of saying anything, he simply gripped the booklet tight and took a deep breath, controlling his emotions.

Wang flipped a page on his clipboard and then said to the men, "Smith, you've been assigned to the library." Victor turned and raised his eyebrows at Mac as if to say *Lucky me*. "Jones, you will be working in the kitchen."

"What?" interjected Mac, "The kitchen? I don't know the first thing about cooking." Mac scowled at Victor who was holding back the first genuine laugh he'd felt like having in this hellhole.

"Shut up," Wang said, mildly. "We have cooks, Jones. You'll only be helping out with the prep work and clean-up. Sort of a glorified busboy. You're actually replacing the last guy who dis--" Wang hesitated and thought about it for a beat before amending his words with, "...who was granted an early release." He cleared his throat and then continued, "Supper's at six sharp. Meanwhile, you can stay in here and get to know the rules and regs. There's a map in there of the place, so you know where to go. Tomorrow morning you can start your duties at nine in the morning." He handed each man another piece of paper. "Here's your time schedule with a description of your duties and the name of the trustee you need to report to at the top of the page." With that said Wang turned and exited the pod.

The minute Wang left, Mac turned to Victor and said angrily, "How come I've got to work in the kitchen? Huh! Can you tell me that? Grunt work...."

"Mac...." Victor, finally finding some humour in the day, was trying not to laugh at his partner.

"She hates me Vic, I'm telling ya, her and Dobrinski. They cooked this up, they're out to get me, I swear...."

"Mac, listen to me will ya? Calm down."

Mac who was pacing across the small room, stopped and looked at Victor, "What?" he huffed. Victor wanted to say he was sure that the Director probably really didn't have a whole lot of control over what was happening to them here; it was obvious, considering his very unpleasant experience with Gant earlier that morning, but then he thought better of it since he knew that would lead to questions about what DID happen to him so he decided to say instead, "Now listen. We were placed according to our dossiers. Remember? The Director probably padded my sheet hoping they would put me in the library, so I could try to uncover any paper trail to the four missing men. You know, scope out any connections with the guards or other personnel working when the men went missing. Besides, everyone knows that I'm way better with a computer than you are. She no doubt made your paperwork look like you would be best in the kitchen because that's where three of the guys who are missing were detailed, including Joseph Carter, the last guy.

"Also, since you're closer in age to the missing cons than I am, she probably thought she could serve you up as bait, or attempt to at least. The guys who are in on the disappearances might try to contact you because you're in your mid-twenties like the other three."

Mac stared dubiously at Victor but eventually he realised the logic behind the placing. "All right. " Mac said amicably.

"But who says you're better on computer?"

"Ohhh, just 'bout everybody," Victor teased.

"Bullshit."

Victor smiled at Mac and then handed him the sheet with the in-house rules of what they were not allowed to do. "Here," he said, "Read this and I'll go over the prisoner's rights manual." Reminded then of what Gant had done to him earlier, he stopped smiling immediately. In an effort to disperse the disturbing images from his thoughts, he asked Mac, "You a top or bottom man?"

"What?" Mac mumbled before he realised that Victor's unintentional double entendre. He blushed faintly but managed to collect himself.

"I said, do you want the top bunk or the bottom; either way, I don't care."

"Ohh, yeah. Um, I'll take the bottom if you don't mind." Mac replied.

"Okay." Victor made his bed up quickly and climbed on top of his bunk. He picked up the manual and tried to read it, but still could not keep his thoughts from wandering back to Gant and the rape. The more he thought about it the more distressed he felt. He could hear Mac below him trying to settle in on his bunk and somehow he was calmed by the thought that if he and Mac could just stick together then everything else should be okay. Of course it would be difficult to do so during their library and kitchen duties, but he was prepared to fight to kill anyone who got too close to him. Not that he was expecting much trouble anyway since the library didn't exactly strike him as a hotbed for perversion. He hoped Mac could take care of himself too when he wasn't around.

Before long, Victor's eyes began to grow heavy and before he knew it, he was sleeping a restless slumber and dreaming unpleasant visions of Gant, Walker, and the violation he'd been through.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac put down the sheet he had been reading and studied the bunk above him. He could tell by Victor's regular, even breathing that he had fallen asleep. As he watched the mattress above him shift with Victor's restlessness, Mac wondered again what was bothering him. He knew that Victor was more bothered by the rough strip search than he had let on. The casual dismissal of the event did not fool Mac at all; something else must have happened. He had an idea about what did; after all, he had grown up on the streets and had even been a prisoner himself before. He knew how the world worked. He had a feeling Vic probably hadn't encountered any problems during his brief prison stint the way he would here, so the entire experience of being 'paraded' to their pod no doubt came as a horrible shock to Victor. Mac hoped Victor could find the strength within himself to deal with it. He knew that no matter what he tried to say to make Victor feel better, in the end, it was still going to be up to Victor to mend himself.

Mac closed his eyes and began to slowly drift off himself. As he slipped into his dreams, the image of Victor standing naked in the showers next to him popped into his head and he was not at all surprised to feel his body rewarding him with a very sizeable erection.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Victor! Victor! Wake up, you're having a nightmare." Victor jerked awake and sat up straight in his chair. He was momentarily confused by where he was, but when he saw that he was still in his own apartment, and not in Kensington Penitentiary, he was extremely relieved. Apparently he had fallen asleep at his kitchen table while Mac and he were going over some paper work.

"Mac," Victor breathed, exuding relief in his voice, "Oh shit. You won't believe the terrible nightmare I just had."

"Oh yeah? Tell me about it," Mac requested with real interest. He put down the papers he was holding to give all of his attention to Victor.

Victor swiped a hand across his sweaty brow, then ran the palm of his hand down the front of his T- shirt to wipe off the moisture. He hesitated for a beat before answering, "I...I dreamt that after we got to Kensington, we ended up being separated by the head guard; his name was Gant. He told one of his underlings, another guard--Gant called him Walker--to take me to some examining room since he thought I might be trying to smuggle in something. But while I was in the room waiting for Gant to show up, that guard started kicking the shit out of me. I couldn't even fight back because I was still handcuffed." Victor frowned deeply, disturbed by what his memory was recalling. "But that's not even the worse part." He took a deep breath as he gripped the edge of the table tightly, "After Walker had left, I was...I was alone with Gant and-and he...he raped me." Victor shuddered then, the mere memory of the nightmare capable of shaking him to the core. "Oh God, Mac," Victor whispered hoarsely to his partner, "you don't know how relieved I am to find out that it was all just a dream. Shit, it seemed so real...so vivid...."

Mac gave Victor a sympathetic smile then reached across the dining room table to give the other man's arm a few light reassuring pats. He grasped the muscular arm tightly before saying solemnly, "That's cuz it was real. It's this conversation you're dreaming."

Victor stared at Mac uncomprehending, "What? What are you saying?" His voice quivered with uncertainty.

"You're dreaming all this," Mac swept his arm in a wide arc in front of himself to indicate the apartment, the kitchen, and even himself. "...right now. And it's time to wake up, Victor." Victor shook his head in denial but Mac only continued to repeat, "It's time to wake up Victor", as his voice began to get louder and louder...

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Vic, it's time to wake up. Hey. You're dreaming, Victor, wake up." Mac shook Victor's shoulders softly again and again to rouse the man.

All of a sudden Victor woke with a start, his eyes popping open to stare dazedly at Mac, whose face was right next to his. "Huh?" was Victor's response.

Though awake, it still took a second for it to sink in that the conversation he had been having at his dinner table with Mac was really only a dream.

Damn, a dream within a dream. Paging Sigmund Freud.

A profound sense of disappointment hit him when he realised the dream version of Mac was right. He was only dreaming. He was still in Kensington with Mac. And what happened with Gant and Walker was still a reality. He sighed inwardly. Time to get up. He only hoped that he hadn't called out anything revealing in his sleep.

Mac lifted his chin from the mattress of the upper bunk. He gave his partner a small smile before stepping down. "It's six already. We're gonna have to go to dinner soon." He had heard Victor mumbling unintelligible words softly in his sleep, the only word he was able to make out being a very firmly stated, "No!"

For as much as Vic tossed and turned in his sleep, so had Mac as well, distracted by his partner's restless slumber. The sounds of the men returning noisily from their various work and recreational activities had woken him up, but he was glad for the distraction from his own unsuccessful attempts to fall asleep again. He had got up and after stretching extensively, walked to the glass front of their pod to look out at a clock hanging on the opposite wall. There were no clocks in the pods of the inmates since the guards didn't want prisoners to tamper with them, so the inmates had to look to the many clocks on the walls of the blocks and other rooms for the time. When Mac came into view, the men passing by their pod had immediately started to make obscene sounds and comments, but after noting the time, Mac simply turned his back on them with a roll of his eyes.

Presently, Victor sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bunk and shook his head to clear the sleep from his eyes. "Jesus, is it six already?"

"Yep" Mac replied before turning from Victor to head for the toilet. He walked around the solid steel screen that was in front of the pod's "bathroom"; it provided the only shield from prying eyes. The thin metal board had no sharp corners, and it rose to only five feet tall from an inch above the floor. It was tall enough to hide Mac from mid-shin to mid-chest, and wide enough to cover his whole body with a little room to spare. He kicked up the toilet seat and proceeded to urinate, slouching in relief as the pressure that had been building up in his bladder released itself. "I actually can't wait for supper," Mac commented after a moment, "I'm starving."

"God Mac, how can you be so calm?" asked Victor as he gave the few men who were staring in at them a sour look. He was still sitting on his top bunk and the other men's obvious display of lewdness disgusted him. "We're gonna be with the others in a few minutes. Aren't you the least bit worried? I can't believe the crap those guys yelled at us today, I feel like I'm in a fucking display case." Victor turned his gaze away from the inmates, trying to ignore them. Then a guard came by and the men were ushered along. Victor was relieved; at least he no longer felt like a big goldfish swimming in a tiny glass bowl with hungry cats staring at him from the outside.

Mac zipped up his fly and deftly flushed the toilet with his foot before turning to Victor with a mild look of disbelief. He couldn't believe that Victor was actually embarrassed or even surprised at all the juvenile teasing. "I've heard it all before, tons of times, when I was in prison. Except most of the dirty comments were in Chinese instead of English. You were in prison yourself; you've had to have heard that kind of crap directed at you in there."

When Mac moved away from their tiny bathroom space and over to the small stainless steel sink, Victor jumped off of his bunk and went over to relieve himself as well.

After flushing and kicking the toilet seat back down, Victor turned around to face Mac. "When I did time I was segregated. I was a cop, remember? Even though I was a dirty cop, I was still the police. They weren't stupid enough to put me in with the others. There was no major strip search, no being paraded in front of the other cons. I came in by myself and did time by myself; that is until the Director dropped by with her deal." Victor looked away and went over to the sink to wash his hands too. He looked up and spoke to Mac's image in the mirror, "I'm not stupid, Mac. I know what goes on in places like this. I just thought that" Victor began to waffle.

"What?" asked Mac impatiently.

"Well it's just that I figured you'd be the only one getting hassled and hit on. I didn't think they would really say anything to me."

Upon seeing Mac's reaction, Victor turned back to him and demanded angrily, "What the hell are you laughing about? What's so damn funny?"

When he collected himself, Mac went over to his partner and said, "Vic, my friend, have you really looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Or ever?" He then held Victor's chin between his fingers in a light grip and looked intently into his partner's eyes. "I hate to admit it to you, Vic, but you're not a bad looking guy, you know? Jesus Christ, even with all your bruises, you're still eye candy for most of the horny guys in this place. I can't believe you would seriously think no one would notice you, especially with those eyes of yours...."

His speech slowly trailed off, as he continued to stare at Victor, suddenly mesmerised by his partner's eyes. Both men looked at each other in silence but the electric moment was all too soon interrupted by the dinner bell. Mac was the first to realise just exactly where he was and who he was gazing at. He quickly released his hold on Victor and cleared his throat, saying, "We'd better finish up, dinner's in fifteen minutes." He saw the worried expression pass through Victor's eyes so he added encouragingly, "It's better to just get it over with, Vic. Besides, you have me watching your ass." Mac smiled and a mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes. "And you can watch mine in return. Deal?"

"Deal," Victor replied with a smile of his own as he caught the double meaning. He turned back to the sink to wash his face.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

As the men wove their way through the crowds, all of whom were heading toward the cafeteria, Victor found that being with the rest of the prison population was not as bad as he thought it would be. However, he never moved more than a few inches away from Mac's side. In order to distract themselves from hearing the lewd suggestions some prisoners were whispering at them as they walked by, Vic and Mac carried on a quiet, conversation about the time they broke into the Dominion Museum together. Mac was not really bothered by the other inmates' actions; he had enough confidence in his own looks to know that unwanted attention like that was expected. He ignored the most graphic taunts, and even a few groping hands.

Victor, on the other hand, was not as tolerant, and when he felt someone grope his ass, something inside of him snapped. He grabbed the guy's hand in a vicious grip and forced him onto his knees. Vic pulled at the con's arm so that his forearm was held straight, and clutched the man's wrist and elbow in a tight grip against his thigh. He then pushed against the con's arm with his two hands, making it quite clear that all he needed was to apply a little more pressure to snap the man's arm in two like a stick. The con, shocked at the speed and intensity of Vic's reaction, looked up wide-eyed with pain at Victor and stammered, "Hey man, relax. I-I thought you were someone else. A mistake. Sorry, okay?"

"Let the little shit go, Vic. You don't want a hack coming over to see what the problem is." Mac placed his hand on one of Vic's arms and was surprised by the amount of tension he felt there. No wonder the con was in pain; Victor was already putting most of his weight into his arms and onto the guy's forearm. He was extremely close to breaking the guy's limb.

"The problem is this fucking bastard just grabbed my ass and I don't fucking appreciate it!" Victor spat through clenched teeth. Ignoring Mac's tight grip on his arm, he pushed on the con's arm fraction more, making the guy whimper pathetically.

"Come on, Vic. Let him go," Mac repeated in a coaxing voice. The other cons walked around the three of them discreetly; no one said a word to the men or even commented on what was going on. But all of those that walked by knew that at least one of the *new fish* was not going to be an easy target.

Victor stared down hard for a moment longer at the man, whose face was sweaty and contorted in pain, before finally releasing his grip on the guy's arm and shoving the man away from him. "I'll tear your fucking arm off and shove it down your throat if you ever try to grab me again," Victor warned the con, who was now sitting flat on his ass and cradling his forearm and elbow tenderly. The agent looked around himself at the other inmates who were passing by and said to no one in particular, "The same goes for anyone who tries anything on me."

None of them said anything in return, but most of them heard the words clearly. Mac released Victor's arm and the two of them continued making their way to the cafeteria.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

As they were in the serving line for their food, Mac leaned over to give Victor some advice. "Listen...guys in here, they'll probably have lots to say to us, about us. It's best to just ignore them. You don't want to end up in the *hole* before your first day is over."

"Trust me, " Victor said dryly, "That would just be the icing on the cake from the day I've already had." He looked at Mac and saw that the other man was serious. "All right." Victor scowled. "I'll try to control myself."

"Good," Mac murmured, amazed that he had turned out to be the level-headed one this time.

Nice, for a change.

As they continued to push their tray along the narrow metal counter, Mac added nonchalantly while eyeing the food being served up by the inmates, "I doubt anyone will bother us for now anyway. There's too many guards around, and plus, there's no talking during mealtime."

Victor simply nodded his head in agreement. Just the same, he could still feel dozens of pairs of eyes on his back.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

After they got their food, Mac led the way to their assigned table. In the dining hall, their presence had caused a small stir and both men could hear low mutterings while going to their table, but generally, they were left alone.

The tables were assigned according to their pod number; the men were not allowed to just sit wherever they liked; again to reduce the chance of gang affiliations. Each table had a letter and number and seated ten to eight men.

Mac was starving, so the minute he sat down he started to eat. Victor, however, glanced around first at the other men at the table. Despite the earlier mild ruckus, it seemed that most everyone was busy shovelling down the bland food that was passed off as a nutritious meal. When Mac looked up and saw that Victor had barely touched what little food he did have on his plate, he frowned. "Hey, eat something, will you?"

Victor watched in disgust as Mac continued to eat, seeming to have no problem with the food. "How can you eat this shit?" he asked with a grimace, pushing the food away from himself.

Mac stopped with a fork full mid-way to his mouth. "What? The food?" Vic nodded his head. "Believe it or not, this stuff's gourmet food compared to the rice and boiled greens they fed me in Hong Kong." Mac laughed when Victor shook his head in wonder at his partner's apparently cast iron guts. "If you grew up like me, Smith, you'd learn to eat anything that wasn't green with mould." Though Mac was smiling and using Victor's pseudonym, he was in fact, quite serious.

Vic made another face after attempting to shove a fork full of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Is this even real potato? Who can tell?

"Man, if a guard or another con doesn't kill me first, the food definitely will."

Mac chuckled in response. As the two men ate and chatted casually, neither of them noticed that at another table four men were staring at them rather intently and with a great deal more interest than any other con in the room....

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Back in their pod, after what Victor believed was without a doubt the most awful meal he'd ever eaten, the two agents started to put their heads together in an effort to come up with a plan for the investigation. Even though they had made some cursory plans before they'd arrived, the men found that they had to make some adjustments to them now that they were actually inside. Both men were sitting on Mac's bottom bunk, pretending to play a game of chess. Mac sat cross-legged while Victor had his left leg hanging over the edge of the bed and his right foot tucked under his left thigh. Every so often they would move a chess piece to another square or take off a pawn for effect, but the game was a just sham for the guards. All the other prisoners were already locked in for the night.

"Once I get myself situated in the library, I'll look up Carter in the computer, and also the name of any other prisoner who was released recently." Victor emphasised the word released with a sarcastic tone, knowing full well that Joseph Carter was still supposed to be incarcerated at the time of his disappearance. "I'll hack into the prison database and see if there's any documentation of a connection Joseph Carter had to the three other missing men."

Mac nodded his head in agreement and Victor continued, "I'll look for any ties to any particular guards that were on duty when Carter disappeared, see if they tie in to anything else. I'll see who his pod- mate was; maybe try to ask him some questions. What are you going to do tomorrow?" Victor picked up Mac's black knight and put it on the bed with some other chess pieces.

Mac, pretending to ponder over his next move, replied with, "Well right after I finish cooking breakfast for 10,000 people"

Vic interrupted with a gentle admonishment. "Maaac. You're exaggerating."

"Anyway, after I'm done slaving in a hot kitchen all morning, I'll ask around during the clean up and see if anyone knows anything. Find out if he had any enemies, friends, etc."

"If anyone gets curious as to why were asking about Carter," Victor leaned back on his elbows and stared thoughtfully up at the bottom of his bunk, "We should say he's our relative, something like that."

As Victor leaned back on his arms a little farther, he was unaware that his T-shirt rode up far enough to give Mac a delicious view of about four inches of his smooth, white abdomen. Mac could see a very small chestnut coloured trail leading from the bottom of Victor's still-bruised navel to somewhere below the band of his ill fitting prison pants. Mac had seen it all before of course, but somehow sitting here catching only a tiny peek between pieces of fabric was more tantalising.

Victor, with his face turned up and eyes closed in thought, was totally unaware of the effect he was having on Mac.

His partner licked his lips at the inviting pose Victor seemed to be striking for him. To Mac's surprise, his cock suddenly twitched and began to harden in earnest. Mac quickly reached behind himself and grabbed his pillow, placing it on his lap to cover his erection. He chewed on his lower lip nervously at his reaction. For some reason, Victor was having an effect on him these days that he was at a loss to explain. Just sitting here and staring at Victor was turning Mac on more than he would ever have thought possible.

All that Mac could think of now was that suddenly his partner had somehow gone from being just plain old, mildly annoying Victor, to a highly attractive hunk of a man.

How did I NOT see how sexy he was before? Man, was I blind? I must've been really distracted by Li Ann or something.

As Mac contemplated his new found attraction for Victor, he kept on staring at his oblivious partner.

Victor eventually opened his eyes and sat back up into a more comfortable position, obscuring the delicious view that he had been so generously providing for Mac; much to the younger agent's disappointment.

Victor wiped tiredly at his eyes with the heels of his hands and said, "Yeah, if anyone asks, just say Carter's your cousin. That way we can keep our stories straight. How's that?" Victor looked expectantly at Mac, who was still staring at him-or rather, through him, or so it seemed to Victor-as he waited for an answer.

"God, you're beautiful," Mac murmured softly. In an instant he realised the mistake he made.

Oh shit! What the hell did I just say? Mac was horrified.

Victor, not quite catching what Mac had mumbled, questioned, "What? I didn't hear you, what did you say?"

Thank Christ for small miracles.

Mac thought before quickly covering himself by answering, "I said, 'right, you betcha." He grimaced inwardly at the lame reply, but Victor seemed to accept it, allowing the younger man to breath a sigh of relief.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In bed that night, with darkness enveloping him, Mac brought himself off to a very explosive, very satisfying orgasm by using images of Victor. After years of practice, Mac came in virtual silence. And when he caught his breath again, he smiled up at the bunk above him, knowing that Victor was up there sleeping, and so far, quite peacefully, totally oblivious to the fact that Mac was jerking off below him.

Mac would probably have been fairly shocked to find out that Victor was in fact not asleep. He was wide-awake and had been listening to the very faint sounds Mac made as he masturbated. He had to hand it to Mac. The man was very good at being quiet during orgasm. If it weren't for the fact that sleep was not coming to him easily tonight, Victor was sure he wouldn't have heard a thing. He had been lying motionless on his bed, thoughts meandering to the disturbing areas, when he finally realised that Mac was not asleep either. Victor's cheeks burned slightly at the thought of Mac's exposed cock as the man touching his rigid flesh sensuously to bring about release and pleasure.

Victor was dismayed when his own penis began to harden to the soft sounds of Mac jerking off. Even though his underwear became tight and stretched by the fullness of his erection, he resisted the urge to touch himself. He wasn't ready for any sexual activities yet, and he doubted he would be for a long time. So the agent simply rolled over to his side and tried, though without much success, to put Mac out of his mind.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Four Days Later

As both men were slowly beginning to settle into their routine prison life, they were also steadily beginning to work on their plan of action to find out more about Carter and the other missing men. During this time, Li Ann had still not visited either of them, nor had the Director, which was quite strange.

Presently, Vic and Mac were returning to their pod for the post-breakfast head count. As they stood outside of their pods, waiting to be counted off, Mac whispered softly out of the corner of his mouth, "I think I can start asking around about Carter today, the men I work with are getting used to me."

Victor, who was scowling at a big guy across the floor who was making eyes at him, grumbled back, "Yeah, last night, I finally figured out a way to hack into the system. I'm sure it'll work. I'll try it out today if I can." The agent narrowed his eyes further and glared at the con that was still giving him the looks. No matter what Mac said, Victor still didn't think he would ever be able to get used to another man's unwanted attentions, especially after what happened with Gant.

He was gradually beginning to replace the guilt and humiliation he felt from the incident with the guard with anger and determination. At this point, he rarely blamed himself anymore when he thought of what happened, but instead, his thoughts would turn to ways of revenge against that bastard.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The con that was checking Vic out found it amusing that the gorgeous, green-eyed man was glaring angrily at him, as if that would really discourage him. The guy knew he could have anyone any time, due to his size and strength. He knew the names of the two of them already and even though the gorgeous new fish was sticking close to his pod-mate, who was a very pretty specimen himself, the con was still confident that neither of them were any match for him. He had come to believe that the two of them were getting it on with each at night when no one was looking, that would certainly explain their cosiness and their familiarity with each other.

Smiling and licking his lips lasciviously, he continued to stare at Victor. Of the two he enjoyed antagonising the older man the most since he produced the greatest reaction to the big man's lewd gestures and the dirty words that he would whisper in Vic's ear when walking by him, but the con was always very careful not to touch Vic just yet. He had heard about what happened to Gary Russell when the asshole had foolishly tried to cop a feel. Russell was still in the infirmary with a badly sprained arm and a bruised elbow, courtesy of Mr. Smith. Still, whether it was Smith, the one he considered edible, or his pod-mate Jones, who he considered delicious, in the end, he would have one or the other, preferably Smith of course. He smiled nastily. He would bide his time. After all, he had all the time in the world to reel in one of them, with or without their consent.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

When the bell went off, indicating the count was complete, Victor was released from his staring contest with the hefty con who just would not leave him alone.

That fucker lays even one finger on me...

Vic's hands clenched unconsciously at the thought. Mac turned to Victor to say good-bye before leaving for his duties. The two men made fists and tapped their knuckles lightly against each other, much like boxers would do before commencing a fight.

"Take it easy, man. See ya in the weight room later." Mac grinned at Victor. He knew that his partner had been shooting daggers at the big con across the way all this time, so he said in a practical tone to Victor, "He stares at you and says stuff to you because he knows it pisses you off, Vic. He gets off on your reaction. You realise that don't you?"

Victor only frowned in return. "Whatever. He just drives me crazy, every time I turn around he's looking at me like...I mean, how do you manage to ignore these ass-holes?"

"I'll tell you over lunch," answered Mac amicably, "I 'gotta go or I'm gonna be late for the clean-up." Mac turned and called over his shoulder as he left, "See ya."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor walked across the centre of the block and stood waiting at a locked door for a guard to come and escort him and the three other prisoners that were assigned to the library and records room. The way to the library was through the underground corridors and they were off-limits to inmates who weren't escorted by a guard. The library was not open to the general inmate population. The prisoners had to make requests for their books and magazines; the requests would in turn be picked up by a couple of elderly inmates and brought to the library. The carts would be filled with the requested materials and the same inmates would then bring the books around to the men later that evening.

Four men from A block and four from B block rotated with each other so that at one time four men would arrange the library books and fill-out requests while the other four would work on the library's computers, doing menial tasks like entering the book requests into the computer logs, locating volumes elsewhere in the province if it was not available locally, and updating the book database when new books came in or old ones were lost or destroyed. If a book was not in stock, then requests had to be made to put a hold on it once it was available. The prison library had a good amount of both fiction and non-fiction titles, but its selection of law books rivalled any law school on the outside.

As Victor stood waiting for Officer Wang - who was late because, as usual he was sneaking a smoke in the guard's john - the big con who had been harassing Victor earlier came up behind him and whispered into his ear in an obscene manner, "Wanna fuck, handsome?"

Victor whirled around immediately, an outraged look on his face. In the last four days, he had managed to control his temper when it came to the inmates and the perverted thoughts they held for both he and Mac, which they would not hesitate to tell them. He had swallowed his fury enough to not lash out, but he still could not control his building anger and disgust, and now, he was teetering on the edge of his tolerance level. "Don't even think of getting your dick anywhere near me! I swear I'll cut it off and make you give yourself a blow-job!" Victor warned in a seething tone.

The large con only smiled at Victor. "Oh yeah? Well I guess your roommate might make a better lay after all." He was starting to walk away when Victor suddenly grabbed the large man's arm and with amazing force, thrust him face first up against the wall while twisting his arm violently behind his back. The Neanderthal only chuckled in response. "Ooh, so you like it rough, eh? So do you play rough with Jones too? Does he bend over and grab his ankles at the sound of your voice?" the pinned man needled nonchalantly.

"You stay the fuck away from him. You stay the fuck away from me, got it, you piece of shit?" Victor used his free hand to push the other man's cheek further into the cement wall for emphasis. Before the trapped man could answer, Wang came up behind the two men and demanded, "All right, what's going on? Don't you have some- where to be, Gates? Let him go, Smith."

Victor hesitated only a second before releasing Gates, who turned around to glare at Victor. He stabbed his index finger into the centre of Victor's chest and threatened, "Catch you later, meat." Victor ignored the man and turned to Wang instead to mumble a perfunctory, "No problem here, sir." He ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling heavily to release the adrenaline rush he had felt. If Wang had not shown up when he did and interrupted them, Victor honestly thought that he would've broken Gates' arm. At least now Victor had a name to go with that ugly face.

"Hey, if I were you, I'd watch my back very carefully from now on, man," warned a young inmate who had been standing nearby. The man was in his early twenties and Vic knew he lived in B block as well. Although he recognised the face, Vic didn't know his name yet.

"He's mean bastard. Really mean. Trust me...I know from experience." The affable young man smiled at Victor then held out his hand as they both filed through the unlocked door. "Name's Barry," he informed Vic.

Victor ignored the kid's out-stretched hand and replied, "Smith. And I'm not afraid of that dick head."

Barry smiled as pulled his hand away. "Yeah, well still, you better keep your eyes wide open." He waved to one of the guys from A block, whose group joined the men of B block. Barry said a curt, 'later' to Vic before taking off to move closer to the man that he had waved to so they could chat. The small crew of men began making their way to the prison library, escorted by four guards.

One of them was Walker, who happened to be working in A block because of this week's rotation schedule. Victor walked past him and stared hard, as if daring the guard to try something, but the other man was not about to be drawn into Victor's game. Instead, he looked Vic straight in the eye, a second longer than he should have, before flicking his gaze away. His face was even and calm the whole time; no one would've even guessed that there was bad blood between the two of them.

Victor shifted his gaze as well and continued to walk ahead of Walker. However, he thought he could still feel the hack's eyes on his back the whole way down the long dimly lit corridor.

Once in the library, the men were given their assignments. Victor was glad to find out that today he was assigned to a computer. He did have real work to do so he started on it first. The faster he got it done, the better. He didn't want to draw any suspicion to himself when he went through the databases later on. He also knew from observing the last few days that the best time to do the research on the database would be was when the hacks were huddled around outside for their smoke and coffee break.

The inmates were not supposed to be left alone, but the guards figured that since they were only on the other side of thick Plexiglas, they could still keep an eye on them. All the men who worked in the library were the more calm, level-headed inmates anyway, none of them had prior records of real violence toward other inmates, or anyone else for that matter. And though it was rare for a new inmate to be assigned to library duty, since that was considered a reward job for the inmates who had been on good behaviour, the guards never really questioned it due to the fact that the order for the assignment for Victor came from the powers to be.

Victor was beginning to know the men he worked with, and in another week or so he decided he would start asking them casual questions about Carter's disappearance. He staved off the questions for now, because he knew that since no one knew him, they would not trust him... yet.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor stretched his arms above his head to ease the slight pain in his back muscles. He rotated his neck to relieve the tension and when he glanced up at the clock high on the wall and smiled.

Break time.

He was working on a computer that was conveniently tucked away in a corner with a cubicle surrounding the desk he was sitting at. He stood up quickly to make sure that all four guards were outside, before sitting down and trying out the method he had thought of to hack into the prison computer system.

He soon found that - luckily for him - the password was the same for all the departments. Victor scanned through and when he found Joseph Carter's records, printed them out immediately. Fortunately also for Victor, the printer was sitting on a small table next to his computer and it was the quiet type. Vic leaned back to look around hastily, double checking to make sure he was still unnoticed. After exiting from Carter's records, he hacked into the medical records and printed out several things he thought might be of some use. In addition, he printed out the records that showed which prisoners had been released, early or otherwise, as well as those who had died and when.

He then jumped over to his last destination: schedules of the guards. He ran off the monthly work rotations for the last six months, including this month. He didn't know if he would be actually able to use the schedule to some advantage, but he figured it might come in handy.

When he was finally done, Victor exited from the prison database and returned to the library database. The printer had just finished printing and he was about to reach over and grab up the incriminating sheets when he heard, "What are you doing, Smith?" followed by the feeling of two strong hands gripping his shoulders.

Victor froze. //Oh SHIT. Okay. Calm. Stay calm, Mansfield.//

Walker leaned in close and whispered into Victor's left ear, "Don't worry, Smith, we're all alone. The other three are still outside." Walker stuck out his tongue and ran it lightly around Victor's earlobe. Victor tried jerking away, but Walker only gripped his shoulders harder to stop him. Walker sucked in the a small bit of Vic's earlobe, biting around the hoop that he wore, tugging on it with his teeth.

Victor wanted very much to pull his head away, but he made no actual move to get away. The man's touch disgusted him and he felt nauseous, Victor swallowed down his bile, afraid to aggravate the guard. But when the other man's invading hands began to massage his shoulders, it was all Victor could do to maintain his control and not break Walker's fingers.

Control, Mansfield. Control. Focus on the printer. The records. Stay calm.

Victor was heeding Mac's advice to not lose his temper, he knew he would do no one any good if he did. The last thing he wanted was to get shut up in solitary confinement for a week or even a month as a result of hitting a guard; God knows what would happen to him then. So Victor sat there and put up with the sick game Walker was playing.

"What," he finally hissed through clenched teeth, "is it you want?"

Walker laughed softly when he felt the muscles in Victor's shoulders bunch up beneath his hands. "Vic, Vic, Vic, why so tense?" he joked nastily as he kept on kneading Victor's shoulders. He leaned extra close, invading Victor's space and whispered in his ear again, "I just wanted to know how your ribs are feeling."

"Fine," replied Victor icily, saying no more to the man than he had too.

"And Gant? He didn't tear you up too much did he? I saw the towel. Pretty bloody," Walker said, referring to the towel Gant had used to clean Victor up with. Walker felt the convict's shoulder's tighten up even more and he smiled to himself; his mind games were working.

"I said I was fine." Victor wished Walker would get his hands off him soon, before he burst from the immense pressure that was building up in him. "Now if you don't mind, I've got work to do." He couldn't help giving into the urge, and tried to shrug off Walkers manipulating hands.

Walker held on tight though and sticking out his tongue again, ran it up from just below the neckline of Victor's T-shirt to his left ear, where he gently dipped his tongue in again and then blew in a hot breath of air. The action made Victor to break out in goose bumps, much to his chagrin.

Suddenly, Walker stood up and clapped Victor on the back. "No, I don't mind," he said evenly, "I'll let you get back to your work then, but we'll have to talk like this again sometime... soon." And then Walker and his invading hands were gone.

Since he had his back to the guard the whole time, Victor didn't know that Walker had noticed the sheets of paper that were sitting in the printer's basket, he had just chosen not to say anything about it. Walker smiled to himself as he went back to his three colleagues who were still puffing away outside the door to tell them that break time was over. He had intentionally let the other three take a longer break time so that he could play with Victor.

As soon as he heard Walker moving away, Victor took a deep breath in relief and waited a moment more before turning around to make sure the guard was gone. Satisfied, he turned back to the desk and placed his head in his hands. He began breathing in and out deeply to suppress the nausea he felt. He was really tempted to just turn and bend over, and empty his guts out right there on the floor. He could still feel the imprint of Walker's hands on his shoulders, that vile tongue running a wet trail up his neck and if he had a knife now, he would use it to scrape at his flesh until the feeling was gone. After another minute, he hurriedly stood up to snatch the papers in the basket, folded them, and then stuffed them in his pants, pulling his shirt over them. He then turned back to the computer to do some idle work in an attempt to take his mind off Walker.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac removed his rubber gloves with his front teeth and held them there, and then for the *nth* time scratched at his itchy scalp which was hidden beneath a hair cap. He dragged his forearm across his sweaty brow and sighed heavily. He thought, with envy, again about how lucky Victor was to be in a nice cool library instead of sweating in a hot, clammy kitchen over a steaming sink of dirty dishes the way he was doing. Mac shook his head; he was definitely going to take some computer classes when he got of out this place.

"Quit yer dreamin', Jones and get back to work, the prep shift for lunch starts in half an hour," the trustee for the kitchen intoned.

The man's name was Townsend, and the guards all called him by that, but when it came to the inmates who worked under him, he insisted that they called him MR. Townsend. The older black man was halfway through a 25-year stretch for second-degree murder. Due to his good behaviour at another facility, Townsend had earned a transfer to Kensington, which was great deal better than the penitentiary he had come from. He took his duties as trustee for the kitchen very seriously for he wanted to ensure that he would never get sent back to the old place. Although he projected a stern image, he did it so that the inmates would listen to him, especially the newcomers whom he didn't know well yet. In reality, he was not at all hard to get along with.

When Townsend moved on, Mac reached out and pulled down the rubber hose which had a showerhead that sprayed extremely hot water when the lever on it was depressed. He picked up another stainless steel tray and hosed off the leftover contents before placing it on a rack that already had about twenty other trays on it. The rack held thirty trays only, so when it was full Mac had to load it onto a tall metal cart that only had space for ten full racks and push it over to where the dishwashers stood. Other inmates were in charge of putting the trays through the dishwashers.

After Mac was through cleaning the trays and the Tupperware-like mugs, he would then have to start in on the utensils that were used in the kitchen, as the inmates in the dining room were only allowed to use plastic knives and forks. After that it was time to scrape out the pots and pans from the kitchen so that the men who were actually assigned the job of cleaning the cookware could hand wash them in their own large sinks. Mac hated this detail, but he had to admit at least his fingernails had never been cleaner. When he was done rinsing the last tray, he stacked the entire rack on the cart and pushed it across the kitchen. Now I know how a worker ant feels, sighed Mac inwardly.

He parked the large cart next to an inmate who was on dishwashing duty and with whom he had become somewhat friendly. The other man was about Victor's age and had loads of tattoos marking his arms. He also had a rare streak of albinism which manifested itself as a white trail which ran up through his left eyebrow up and forehead and then about three inches into his hair.

"Hey Zeke," Mac called out casually to get the man's attention, "Can I ask you a question?"

Zeke shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah sure. What?"

"Well, I'm looking for a guy, his name's Joseph Carter. Last I heard he was living in B block and working in the kitchen. But now I can't find him anywhere. Have you heard about him or seen him? Did he get sent to the hole or something?" Mac looked at Zeke while he casually shrugged his shoulders, his bland expression belying the fact that he was anxious about the answer. "Of course the guards won't talk to me. It's like he just disappeared," Mac added.

Zeke looked around himself, quickly turning his head right and left. He stepped closer to Mac before asking suspiciously in a hushed tone, "Why do you want to know? What's Carter to you?"

Already prepared for such questions, Mac began to spin the threads of the story he and Victor had made up. "He's actually my cousin." When Zeke's eyes narrowed even more, Mac explained mildly, "I knew Joey was in Kensington; we wrote to each other once in a blue moon. We used to be tight, but then we went off in our different...careers. I was sorta crushed when I heard he got caught and thrown in here. Who would've thought we'd end up the same way? I was looking forward to seeing him again in here though; we haven't seen each other for so long." He gave Zeke the largest smile he could, which succeeded in disarming the con somewhat.

The other man regarded Mac for a moment more, apparently very reluctant to say anything. After a while, he finally said, "Yeah I knew him." He looked at the tall man closely, thinking that for cousins Mac didn't look anything like Joe except for the dark eyes. Mac was a whole lot taller than Joey, but then again, that didn't really mean a thing, Zeke's own teenage son was taller than he, and as fair as his mother was, not dark like himself.

Zeke bit his bottom lip and taking up Mac's arm, pulled him behind the large dish cart. Making sure no one was within earshot, Zeke whispered, "We can't talk here. I'll catch up with you after the shift's over."

He released Mac's arm and said a little louder, "You better get back to work or Mr. Townsend will chew your ass off." With that, Zeke grabbed the cart and began pushing it back to his sink.

Mac grinned to himself, grabbed another free cart and hauled it back to his designated sink. This would be the last of the dishes, and then it would be time to finish the rest of his duties in the kitchen. But after that Mac would be able to eat lunch with the regular population, his time in the kitchen done. After lunch he had a few free hours for recreation, which meant he could to do what ever he wanted. Mac was glad that he didn't have to work the early morning breakfast shift; that required getting up at the ungodly hour of four in the morning. Likewise, working the dinner shift would have meant he'd have to do the lunch clean up, dinner prep and after dinner clean up, plus help prep whatever they could for the breakfast crew.

When he was finally finished, he hung up the thick plastic apron that he had been wearing, snatched the cap off of his very itchy head and went straight for the dressing room, which was just a small open area where the inmates could hang up their clothing to put on their kitchen apparel or vice versa, wash up and use the bathroom facilities.

As soon as Mac rounded the corner into the room he pulled up his T-shirt and wiped the sweat that was dripping from his forehead. Reefing up his T-shirt even more to wipe his whole face and neck, he exposed most of his chest as a result. His flat and firm expanse of abdomen, which was completely sculpted with muscle, had not an ounce of fat to spare; it was a sight that would make mouths water. He had a lot of dark hair covering the width of his upper chest before, narrowing into a trail that ran down through the centre of his navel and into the depths of the delicious treasure encased in his pants. His nipples stood out like a couple of copper pennies even though they were submerged in a sea of black chest hair.

Mac was unaware when the 'show' he had been inadvertently putting on actually acquired an unwanted audience. He had come into the dressing room alone; he preferred it that way since it ensured his privacy from the marauding eyes and hands that he and others that were good-looking like him dealt with on a daily basis.

But he was in fact no longer alone. Two of the four cons who had watched Victor and him with an eagle-eyed scrutiny that first day in the cafeteria and everyday since then, now stood in the entranceway to the small room watching Mac. One of the men licked his lips with anticipation of what they thought was about to happen next, and the other simply stood, clenching and unclenching his fists. Both men believed that Mac and Vic would be easy targets, especially Mac, since he was thinner than Vic and looked less sturdy, so when they watched Mac enter the dressing room alone, they saw a window of opportunity open and they took it without hesitation.

Neither con had even needed to speak to the other to convey their intentions; one simply nodded his head in the other's direction, and together they quietly followed and watched Mac, surveying the goods before they used them. Mac was uncharacteristically not paying attention to what was going on around him since he was deep into his thoughts about Vic, and what Zeke would have to say to him later on. He finished drying off the parts of his sweaty body that he could reach before hastily tucking his T-shirt back in. He turned around to the small free-standing sink, and turning on the cold water tap, bent over and took a drink of the refreshing cold liquid rushing out of the faucet.

"I liked him better with his shirt half-off, but the view of his ass is great too. Whaddya think, Clyde?" one of the two inmates commented casually. His companion only murmured his agreement in return.

Mac swallowed a bit more water, taking his time to slake his thirst. After a moment more, he finally stood up and turned around slowly, giving the impression that he was listening to the men talk when he was actually measuring the distance between them and himself. He recognised the two faces immediately; they both worked in the kitchen as cooks, but Mac hadn't had much dealings with them yet. That is, up until now.

Let's seeeee...probably too far to do my spin kick justice.

Mac needed the men to get closer to him before he could really do anything so he said in an almost seductive voice, "So you're enjoying my show, eh?"

The men only remained silent, smiling slightly. But Mac could see the unmistakable gleam of the 'predator on the hunt' in both of their eyes; he knew what they wanted all right.

Good luck getting it, assholes, Mac thought as he lounged back casually against the sink, bracing his hands behind him at the same time for support just in case the opportunity arose where he could kick out his legs against them.

"Well, it wasn't for your viewing pleasure. So why don't you two scram before you get hurt," Mac threatened softly.

Clyde laughed. "You think you can hurt us, eh? Show him, John."

At the cue, Clyde's partner reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. He pushed the button and a five inch blade instantly popped out. Smiling maliciously, John advanced on Mac, holding the knife close to his side. Mac was more than a bit curious as to how the other man had managed to smuggle a knife into Kensington. He guessed that a guard had to have brought it in for him or at least arranged for him to have one and charged a considerable amount of money for the favour. He watched intently as both men suddenly advanced on him at the same time. At some point Clyde had pulled a knife too, smaller than his partner's switchblade, but very real nonetheless.

Okay, two guys with two knives...I can handle this. No problem. Mac flicked his eyes back and forth between the two.

John and Clyde had come to a stand directly in front of Mac. "Get down on your knees pretty boy, and get ready to taste a lollipop," John ordered as he undid the top button and fly of his pants and pulled out his cock.

Mac snorted and shot back cheekily, "That is the worst pick-up line I've ever heard." He looked down in disgust at John's exposed penis. He looked back up again and scoffed, "I don't like sweets after breakfast. And besides, that's not much of a treat you've got there."

Clyde snorted briefly at the demeaning joke, John, pissed off at the insult, commanded angrily, "Shut up fuck up, Clyde. Why don't you teach pretty boy here a better way to use his mouth?."

In a lightening quick motion, Clyde stuck the blade underneath Mac's chin. "Get down and open wide, bitch. Let's see what you're made of."

Seeing no other choice for the moment, Mac did what he was told, slowly sinking down to his knees. Of course he had no intention at all of sucking either one of these two moron's cocks, knife or no knife.

In order to heighten his own arousal, Clyde liked some violence and needed to see blood, so he pulled the knife away and struck Mac across the face hard with one large fist. Trapped between the sink and two bodies, Mac had no space to dodge the punch, so all he could do was take it and try to absorb it the hit as best as he could. The blow struck him on the left side of his face, causing Mac's head to snap back and smash against the rim of the sink. He saw a brief explosion of stars in front of his eyes, and though he didn't lose consciousness, he was, however, momentarily stunned.

Clyde took the opportunity to reach down and grab Mac by the shirt. He propped the agent up on his knees again, his cock hardening at the sight of the dark, red stream trickling down from Mac's left nostril and splattering drops on the man's shirt. A bruise was already beginning to form at the corner of Mac's mouth. Clyde, not wanting to wait for sloppy seconds, undid his pants quickly and shoved John back away from Mac so that he alone stood in front of the kneeling man. He licked his lips in anticipation, anxious to violate the man before him. The knife, which had previously menaced Mac, now hung limp in the convict's left hand, Clyde had wrongly assumed that it was no longer needed.

Mac's head had already cleared enough for him to think straight again, and in an instant he was able to spot his way out of the situation. His hand shot out like a snake striking and grabbed Clyde's balls, twisting harshly, instantly incapacitating the man. Clyde's left hand automatically dropped the knife, and using his free hand, Mac deftly swept the sharp blade away across the other side of the room. The weapon came to rest underneath a bench.

Mac jumped up, releasing Clyde's nuts, while at the same time the agent grabbed up two handfuls of the other man's prison issued T-shirt and pulled him forward towards himself roughly, banging his forehead into the con's nose, breaking it in one cartilage-crunching, blood-squirting smack. Clyde howled in pain, and when Mac pushed him away, he fell hard to his knees, clutching his bleeding and broken nose.

Even as he was busy breaking Clyde's nose, Mac had seen from of the corner of his eye that John had extended his knife arm out. He was ready to attack and was only waiting for Mac to finish with Clyde, he wanted to have a crack at kicking the shit out of Mac himself for what he had done to his friend and for spoiling their fun. The goal of sexually violating the man was no longer on John's mind, only revenge. Though Mac was not necessarily stronger, he was most definitely the smarter fighter; he already had a defensive action ready. When he thrust Clyde away from himself, Mac extended his right leg to kick the knife right out of John's hand before he became aware of what was happening. Mac heard John's wrist snap in the process, giving off a satisfying "crunch" that made Mac smile. Both men were now down and writhing, with Mac being the only one left standing. He couldn't wait to tell Victor about these two fools.

"What the fuck??" Zeke had heard the commotion from the kitchen and came in to see what was happening. "What's going on?" he asked Mac.

Mac pinched the still flowing blood from his nostril and wiped it away. "Not much, I was just explaining to these two assholes how adverse I am to giving blow-jobs." Mac shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

Zeke hauled Clyde up from the floor then did the same to John. When the two men were standing almost steadily, he advised them, "You guys better get to the infirmary before Mr. Townsend sends a hack in here to see what all the yelling was about."

Mac could see that though Zeke was not a trustee, he obviously still had some sort of authority over the rest of the kitchen workers. Clyde and John obeyed. They retrieved their knives, seeing the logic in 'getting the hell out of Dodge' before a guard came in and caught them with the weapons. If they were discovered, they'd be put into the hole for a month.

Before leaving the dressing room, Clyde turned back to Mac and running a finger across his own neck deliberately to make a point as he mouthed the words, "You're dead," behind Zeke's back. Suddenly filled with exhaustion and impatience, Mac hollered back at the exiting man, "Anytime, Holmes! Anytime!"

Zeke spun around to see who the agent was talking to, but Clyde had already gone. He turned back to Mac and said, "Leave them be. They're nothing but panty-waists anyway without the rest of their crew to back them up." He changed the subject quickly.

"Listen, I want to help you find your cousin, but I don't want anyone to know that you talked to me, okay?"

"Deal. What can you tell me?" Mac wetted some paper towels and began to wipe away some of the blood from his nose and chin. He hadn't quite stopped bleeding yet, but he knew he would in a minute or two. "I don't mean no disrespect or anything, Zeke, but why would you help me if it will only bring you grief?"

"Joe was a good kid, he didn't bother no one. He didn't make trouble and he didn't go looking for it either. Joe was the best dishwasher I had." Zeke smiled at Mac, he now believed that he was indeed talking to the young man's cousin.

"Joe didn't drink, smoke or do the bad drugs that's going around this place. He came to work to do his job and he did it right, you know?" Zeke sat down on the bench and continued talking after Mac nodded at him. "One day after he finished up the kitchen work, he came in here to get ready to leave, to go back to his pod. But Clyde, John and another one of their gang, a sadistic bastard named Marc, follow him in here. The three of them were looking for a little fun, if you get my meaning." Mac nodded but said nothing. He got it all right.

"Anyway, Joe put up a hell of a good fight, but there were three of them, you see, and well you know yourself, your cousin wasn't that much of a heavy weight. In the end, those three bastards, they took what they wanted from Joe. Because he had fought them so hard, when they were done, they left him on the floor fairly messed up; he was bleeding from both ends."

Mac looked properly horrified, his grimace genuine.

Zeke shook his head and then stood up to take a drink from the tap before going on. "He did some time in the infirmary. Took him a few weeks to mend physically, but even when he finally did, that poor kid just wasn't the same after. He got meaner, way meaner, and he did stuff he never tried before, like picking fights. Well, one day he spies John alone and boom, he attacks him. Did a pretty good job too, but then the hacks came and broke it up and gave both guys a week in the hole for fighting. John didn't like solitary, so when he got out, I heard him, Clyde, Marc and a fourth Musketeer called Bobby, who's the leader of the four of them, talking about how they could make Joe disappear. How they could go to someone and they would take care of it. I don't know who they were talking about, I was only listening for a few seconds before Gant came by, and I cleared out before he saw me eavesdropping. You know, Jones, they wanted to get rid of that poor kid for revenge. Of course, none of the assholes took into consideration that it was them that started the whole business in the first place."

Zeke began to pace, he looked almost relieved, as if he was glad that he could finally get all this off of his chest. "Well, about two weeks after I heard them talking, Joe just up and disappeared. No word of him escaping or dying or anything, just no word at all." Zeke stopped pacing and turned to face Mac, who had remained silent, listening attentively the whole time. "Maybe his old pod-mate might be able to help you out. He's still in the same block and pod. His name's Matt. Matt Vandenburg."

Mac nodded his head at his friend. "Hey, thanks for all the help, man, I appreciate it, My auntie sure would be grateful to find out what happened to him, you know?" Mac smoothed another layer over the lie for effect. "What's the number of the pod?" asked Mac.

"B block, pod 24," answered Zeke.

"Thanks again man, see you tomorrow morning," Mac said as he started for the doorway.

"I hope you find out what happened to your cousin. He was a good kid," Zeke called out. He shook his head in sadness again; he had seen enough of life on the inside to know that when he was paroled he would make sure he'd never come back inside. After he got out, he was going to go straight and stay out of prison for good. He knew that if he didn't then the 'joint' would eventually kill him.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac went through the doors of the main dining room and stepped out into the hallway. He glanced down at his bloodied T-shirt in disgust.

Fucking assholes. They had better learn their lesson.

Still, he was able to sigh cheerfully. At least now he had a place to start to finding out what happened to Joe Carter. Something struck him then. Hmm, four guys...interesting. And two of them came right for me today! Victor's gonna be thrilled to hear this, Mac mused as he waited for a guard to unlock the door and escort him through the locked entrance to B block. As Mac stood there, Walker came around the corner and held the door open for Mac who stepped through first.

"Jones"

"Sir," Mac replied in a cold, polite way.

"You've been fighting, boy?" Walker made of show of narrowing his eyes at Mac, sweeping his gaze down the length of the agent's body and then up. It was obvious in his expression that he did not like Mac, even though Mac had had no real dealings with him.

"No, sir," Mac answered with mock respect as he touched the bruise on the left side of his mouth with his fingertips. He didn't like being called 'boy' by a guard who was as young as himself, maybe even younger. "I just slipped on the wet tiles in the kitchen and hit the sink on the way down." Mac grinned at Walker and then said impudently, "Maybe I can sue the prison for personal injury. Whaddya think? Do I have a case?"

Deciding to let Mac's remarks go, Walker only gave him a dirty look as he tore a piece of paper from his clipboard and handed it Mac. "You got an appointment with the social worker in half an hour. Clean yourself up before you go and see her. Now get out of my sight. You make me sick." Walker scowled.

Mac was pleased that he managed to irritate Walker so he replied joyfully, "Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" He turned around and strolled away from the guard. He knew that Walker had taken part in Victor's beating, so he was more than happy to annoy him; though of course it had to be in a very subtle way so that he wouldn't get in trouble for it.

The young agent however, had no idea why Walker was so pissed with him to begin with.

At least I don't have to work at it much then, thought the mischievous agent. He flung open the door to the pod, and was pleased to see Victor, who was reading some papers while he lay on his upper bunk.

The older man looked up at the beaming Mac. "Man, you look like the cat that swallowed the canary and the canary fought back. What the hell happened to you?" Victor commented, concerned when he saw the bloody and bruised condition Mac was in.

"Yeah? Ah, don't worry. It's no problem." Mac waved away his partners concern and walked over to stand close to Victor. "I think we might have made very good progress today." Then he clamped a hand on top of his partner's shoulder and squeezed tightly in triumph.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac squeezed Victor's shoulder a little tighter and in a very bold gesture, ran his hand lightly down Victor's arm, stopping at the wrist, and lingered for just a second before pulling his hand away. Smiling, he walked away and went over to the sink. He jammed the plug into the drain before turning on the hot water all the way and letting the sink fill. He dipped his face cloth in, wrung it out and as he dabbed at the soreness on his nose, assured Vic with an airy, "I'm alright, really. Just a little sore maybe, but no big deal."

He mopped at the rest of his face, as he added, "By the way, I'm supposed to see Li Ann in half an hour." When he was satisfied with his cleanliness, Mac turned back around to face Victor to see his partner looking at him dubiously. Mac's bruised and bloodied condition did not bode well in Vic's opinion; he who was therefore far more concerned at the present about the other man's health than about his meeting with Li Ann.

"Hey, partner, really, this is nothing," Mac reiterated as he waved his hand casually in front of his face. "I went toe-to-toe with two goons, and ended up teaching them a lesson about messing with me." He puffed his chest out in pride and raised his eyebrows at the other man.

For a split second, a dark cloud passed across Victor's eyes, then it was gone. Shame was trying to rear its ugly head again, as Mac's mention of 'two goons' brought memories of Walker, and to a greater extent, Gant, to the surface. Victor had thought he'd already once and for all stopped second-guessing himself over the incident with the two guards; he had worked very hard to vanquish the very personal doubts that he'd felt. Of course, as he found out now, he was only deluding himself.

Victor gave himself a mental shake and even though he wasn't too sure he wanted to hear about it, he asked, "So what happened to them?"

Mac pulled off his bloodied T-shirt and dropped it in their laundry bag before starting on his account of the encounter he had with Clyde and John. As he talked, Mac started dressing and then ran a comb through his hair. He finished by saying, "The good news is I found out who Carter's pod-mate was and his pod number too." He had to grin as he was still pleased with himself and the fact that not only had he got some useful information, but even managed to 'kick a little butt' while in the pursuit of the truth. When he glanced at the large clock on the wall in the courtyard, he saw that he still had twenty minutes to go before he had to report to the social worker's office. He finished cleaning himself up by quickly rinsing the toothpaste out of his mouth. Walking over to Victor's bunk, Mac jumped up to sit next to him, sitting so close that their legs and arms were slightly touching. He nudged Victor with his right elbow. "So," he inquired, "What do you think? Not bad for a day's work, huh?"

"About what?" Victor asked quietly.

Mac turned his head and looked at Victor, who was staring down unblinkingly at the papers in his lap. He finally noticed that Victor seemed to have gone through a mood change. He had been quiet when Mac had entered the cell, but at least he had seemed to be upbeat. Now, in a span of only a few minutes he had slumped a quietly depressed state.

"About the information I got from Zeke about Carter and my deduction about the men who tried to jump me. What's the matter, Vic? Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me for fighting?" Mac asked. He continued to stare at Victor intently, though the other man still had not raised his eyes from his lap.

A small shudder ran through Victor, and he fought to reign in the unavoidable thoughts about the rape.

Goddamn it, STOP. Stop already. Now's not the time for this shit! Victor chastised himself silently, before raising his head to meet Mac's eyes. The older man mustered enough energy to paste a wan smile on his face.

In an effort to convince his partner he was okay, he replied, "No. No, Mac, you didn't do anything wrong. I was just...thinking. That's all." Victor flapped the papers in his hand briskly as a mild distraction from the tense moment, wanting to change the subject. "Actually, I already know about Carter's pod-mate. I got it from the info I managed to hack from out of the prison's computer system. I was just starting to read about Carter's stay in the infirmary when you walked in. Of course there's no mention of who put him there, but the records are really detailed. Those bastards really did a number on him." Victor licked his lips thoughtfully and looked back down at the papers he held. "While you're gone, I'll read the rest of this stuff and see if any of it makes sense." He released the white sheets and they fell gently into his lap.

Ignoring Victor's attempts to change the focus from himself to the reports on Carter, Mac went back to his original line of questioning, "Victor, we can talk about those papers over dinner. Seriously, is something the matter?" Mac was sure that something was bothering his partner even though he was shaking his head 'no'. He wasn't buying the other man's silent denial; something had to be wrong. "Come on, what is it? You know you can tell me."

Victor hesitated for a long while before speaking up.

"I...It's just...." But he couldn't finish the sentence, he was feeling completely overwhelmed; the former policeman simply couldn't bring himself to confess what had happened. Instead, he tried for another cop- out again. "Mac, it's nothing. Nothing's wrong, 'kay?"

Despite the firmness in his tone voice, once again, he couldn't meet the other man's eyes.

Shit. I thought we were done with this crap days ago. He frowned slightly, and a second later... I can't tell him. Mac wouldn't understand, especially after he's just beaten the shit out of two guys with knives to protect himself. Oh Christ, I didn't even try to fight Gant.

Victor's lips were stretched in a tight, thin line. His eyes began to focus on an imaginary spot on the wall across from where they sat. He wanted so badly to talk to Mac about Gant and the rape, but he couldn't put the words together. He didn't know how or even where to begin talking about it. Victor knew that burying it wasn't working. All that was doing was making him even jumpier than usual, and with Walker playing his head games, he was afraid that he would eventually snap and do something really rash. He knew it was good therapy to talk, so why couldn't just tell his partner?

"Don't lie to me Victor. You can't. I know you. And I know when something's wrong. Maybe if you tell me what it is I'll be able to help." Mac looked at Victor expectantly, waiting for him to reply.

At that, the other agent did turn his head to look directly at Mac. He had a troubled expression on his face; his green eyes clouded with apprehension and anxiety. Victor's sad eyes studied Mac's face for another second before turning back to stare at the wall, continuing stubbornly to hold onto his silence.

"Okay, if you won't tell me. I'll just have to guess." Mac had had his suspicions from day one, but for Victor's sake, he had pretended to believe his partner's fabrication of events. Presently, he moved away from Victor's side and shuffled on the bed so that he was facing the other man's profile. He reached out to put a friendly hand on Victor's forearm, thinking carefully about the words he chose for what he was about to say.

"That first day, when you were taken away from the rest of the group...I already...guessed that the guards..." Mac hesitated, wanting to be careful in how he said the next bit, "Did they force themselves on you?"

The reaction from the other man was dramatic.

Victor jerked his head violently to look straight into Mac's eyes with a horrified expression on his face. "How did you know?" he anguished.

"I was just guessing, but it was an educated guess." Mac squeezed Victor's arm gently for encouragement. "The way you were beaten up, all the bruises, I was already starting to think along those lines. But when I saw the blood when we were in the showers, I knew that something more had to have gone on. Something more than just a 'rough' cavity search." As he said that, Mac thought he could feel the tension draining away from Victor's body.

"What happened, Victor? Talking about it will help," Mac stated sympathetically. Willing to wait in silent patience for as long as it took the older man to say what had to be said.

After a few moments Victor cleared his throat. "It was Gant, not Walker...after I was put in that room... and after Walker beat the crap out of me," began Victor in a hoarse voice, "Gant had him tether me with a leather cord to the wall before he left. Gant removed my leg chains...but my cuffs were still on, chained to my waist. I...was effectively restrained. I...couldn't do anything. Gant...after he searched me...he...he...." Victor's mouth went dry; he was having a hard time forming the next string of words. Mac may have guessed what came next, but admitting it was much harder than Victor had thought it would be. And though he tried to raise some moisture in his mouth, it was to no avail.

Finally, Victor took a deep shuddering breath before blurting out in a heart-wrenching voice, "Yes. Gant forced himself on me. He raped me." He immediately followed that by biting out in an angry and tormented, "And I couldn't even fight him. Fuck! I didn't do anything to stop him!" He ran his hands hard down his face and groaned, "I can't stand it. I...I've got to get out of here!"

With that, Victor jumped up off the bunk, flung the door open and hurried away. He didn't know or care where he was going. He just couldn't stay in the pod any longer. After confessing to Mac, the air had suddenly become stale and he felt as though he could no longer breathe.

Walking quickly with long strides, Victor went toward the doors that would take him out of B block and into the rec. yard for some fresh air. He shuffled his feet as he waited impatiently for the guards to let him pass. He had to get outside; the air inside was cloying, making him feel claustrophobic.

Just when Victor didn't think he could stand it a second more, the door buzzed, indicating that it was unlocked. He pushed through and ran to the next set of doors that would allow him to escape out into the frigid and damp outdoors. Once outside, he hurried to the opposite side of the yard where he could be alone. He grasped the chain-link fence with both hands and rattled the cold metal in rage and regret.

The day was damp and chilly, and there were very few cons out in the yard. Victor looked around himself quickly to make sure he truly was alone. The cons in the yard were clustered around in small groups, all of them doing their own thing. Nobody was even really looking over at him. Satisfied, he leaned forward and rested his head against the cold fence. He continued gripping the metal wires tightly-knuckles white from the strength of his hands-hot tears of shame and frustration fell unbidden and unwanted from Victor's eyes.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Walker had been watching Victor and Mac's pod from across the wide hall of Block B. Even though he was a little off to the side, from his vantage point, he still had a good view of the small room through the glass door. In the whole time he had been at Kensington Pen, he had never stooped so low as to spy on the prisoners. Then again, no prisoner had ever made him feel the way he did now. Not until Victor had come to the prison. Because of the way he felt inside, whenever he looked at Victor, it made him want to beat the shit out of him, while at the same time he wanted nothing more than to use his hands to explore the older man's body. The conflicting emotions warring within him caused him nothing but frustration. He had a job to do, and he would do it; he had, after all been paid handsomely to perform his duties. Unfortunately he couldn't have predicted Victor's presence, which in turn made it that much harder for Walker to perform only his assigned duties.

Walker knew that beating him up and messing with his mind wasn't going to earn him any bonus points with Victor in the end, but he couldn't help himself. He had never said he was a saint. He actually resented the fact that he was attracted to Victor and even more the fact that he could not stay away from him. Walker stunned even himself when he'd talked Wang into changing block shifts with him just so he could keep an eye on Victor, and now, the more he'd watched the two men chatting in the cell, the angrier he felt towards Mac. He desperately wished that he could hear what the two men were saying to one another.

As he stood there musing, his envy for Mac growing by the minute, Victor took him completely by surprise when he suddenly jumped up from his bunk and made haste to get out of the pod. Victor had swept by Walker, not ten feet from where the guard stood, but the man hadn't even seen Walker, so intent was he on getting out of the pod.

Walker watched Victor retreat, and when the other man went though the doors where he could no longer be seen, the guard turned back to the pod and watched Mac as he sat, unmoving on top of Victor's bed. The guard wanted to follow Victor out of the doors and into the courtyard, just so he could keep a closer eye on his 'subject', but unfortunately he still had a job to do on top of his other 'special' duties. One of them was making sure that the cons got to where they were going when they were supposed to be there. Walker pulled his stick out of his belt loop and went over to the pod. Mac had an appointment and the guard would see that he kept it.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac sat, shocked as he watched his friend's retreating back get farther and farther away from the cell, the block, and from himself.

Dumbstruck by the truth of Victor's emotional confession, he was unable to bring himself to get up from the bunk and chase Victor down. If only his guess had been wrong! He sat quietly and raged at the injustice of his partner's treatment. Eventually, the young agent began debasing himself for not doing more to help his partner out on that first day.

Maybe if I had kicked up some trouble, they wouldn't have taken him at all...they might've taken me instead. I could've handled it.

Mac shook his head. Thinking that way would not help Victor at all. By the time he had pulled himself together enough to think about going after his partner, it was too late. Victor was already gone. Mac thought about trying to find him, but decided in the end that it probably would be better to just give him some space for the time being. Victor obviously wanted to be alone for a while, and it might even do him some good to be able to gather in his thoughts. He continued to sit on the bunk, deeply submerged in his thoughts, oblivious to Walker who was strolling by.

T he guard looked at his watch and then banged his stick against glass door of the pod, and when Mac looked up, startled by the loud noise, the guard opened the door and said harshly to Mac, "Get your ass over to the counsellor's office, Jones, ASAP! You're late!"

Mac started in surprise; he had completely forgotten about meeting Li Ann until Walker's rude interruption pulled him from his funk and reminded him. He didn't really want to go anywhere at this moment, as only Victor was on his mind, but clearly Walker was not going to let him blow off his appointment. So, sighing heavily, he slowly gathered up himself and headed over to the counsellor's office.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

LiAnn Morton's Office

"Morton?" Mac asked incredulously.

LiAnn only rolled her eyes and shook her head in agreement. "Given to me by the very same idiots who gave you and Vic the lame aliases of Smith and Jones. Do I look anything like a Morton? I think NOT. I had to come up with some excuse about it being my stepfather's last name." However, she had initially chuckled when she saw her cover name. She was grateful at least that it wasn't some Samoan name that would end up by screwing her up, like last time.

"So how are you two making out?" she asked amicably. Mac turned to face her and blinked at the double entendre. When LiAnn finally got a good look at Mac, who was busy checking her office out, she gasped, "What the hell happened to your face?"

He only waved his hand vaguely in response. LiAnn frowned. She really wanted to know, but since it was obvious Mac wasn't in any discomfort, she decided to let it go for now. She didn't want to waste her time since the appointment did have a time limit.

"Sorry I didn't see you sooner, but the Director thought that it would be better if I didn't come in too soon. She decided that she won't be visiting at all; that is, unless of course you need a good lawyer." LiAnn smiled, but Mac was not really listening to her. He was looking at her all right, but his focus had shifted and he was only staring blankly. Eventually his gaze wandered. LiAnn's 'office' had all kinds of pamphlets and booklets neatly stacked all over the place.

The title of one caught Mac's eye: **Self-healing from the Trauma of Sexual Abuse.** No doubt it was meant for a survivor of childhood abuse, but it was enough to make Mac's mind race. His thoughts once again turned back to Victor, Walker and Gant. He had been wanting to see LiAnn to fill her in on the progress of the investigation, but now, after what had just happened, the investigation hardly seemed that important anymore. He knew he sure as hell didn't feel like talking about it anymore, and for his partner's own well being, he wished that they could get out of this joint as soon as possible. Being sexually assaulted went way beyond what was required by the call of duty.

Mac felt an incredible pull in his gut, and the urge to go back and be with Victor, just to talk with him so that he can get his mind off of the incident. He was distracted by the belief that Victor probably needed him most at this very moment. What if he were to return to the pod in hopes of talking more only to find he wasn't there?

"Hello? Mac, are you in there?" LiAnn frowned at Mac. "What's the matter? Have you even heard a word I've said?"

"Oh, sorry. It's nothing. We're fine. Great. So I guess you want to know what's going on with the case?" Mac hastily changed the subject, wanting to hurry through his meeting with Li Ann.

"I do, but what's the rush? You only just got here!" LiAnn had thought that Mac would relish their time together, after being cooped up in such close quarters with Victor, and around all those other men. She'd thought he'd be drooling over her by now, extremely grateful for her presence.

"No rush," he replied but then caught the look on her face. LiAnn knew when she was being lied to, so Mac decided to change tactics and give her a part of the truth.

"Look, it's just that Victor and I were going to visit Joe Carter's former pod-mate and see what he had to say, so I'm just sort of anxious about that. You know, the sooner we find out about Carter, the sooner we ditch this place."

Mac reached out and grabbed a can of Pepsi from LiAnn's desk. After he had opened it up and taken a drink, he continued, "Seems that Joe Carter ran afoul of this group of four guys. The guys jumped him and messed him up pretty good, and once Carter got out of the hospital wing, he went after one of the members and beat the guy up in retaliation. A friend of Carter's remember hearing the guys throwing around words like 'revenge', and 'making Joe disappear'. Two weeks after that, Carter did disappear. As luck would have it, two of those four guys were the same ones who came after me today."

Mac held up his hand to interrupt when he saw the look of shock on LiAnn's face. "Good news is that since I managed to fight them off and piss them off, if these mooks actually had anything to do with Carter, maybe we'll get lucky and they might try to get rid of me." Mac took another swallow of the cold soft drink, waiting for LiAnn to argue with his logic.

Instead, she simply pulled open the top drawer of her desk and took out a pamphlet titled 'Coping with Narcotics Withdrawal and Temptation'. She slid it across the desk to Mac and said, "Open." After Mac did so, she continued, "We've managed to ID another body, his name was Martin Kendle, and his last known whereabouts was solitary confinement... in this prison."

Li Ann reached back in and pulled out two semi-sweet dark chocolate candy bars from her drawer, pushing them across the desk to Mac as well. "These are for you two. All the information's inside the pamphlet, none of the guards will hassle you about it. The literature will be enough cover. And plus, these visits are confidential so they won't insist on reading through it. I figured Victor would want to read about the new body too."

Mac eyed the semi-sweet chocolate bars, knowing full well that it was Victor's favourite type of chocolate. "Uh, Li Ann? How about me? Hey, next time, can you bring me some peanut butter cups?" Mac grinned at the sound of his own petulant voice.

Li Ann smiled softly at Mac, suddenly realising that she missed him and Victor very much. The three of them were rarely apart for more than a day because of their jobs and now, who knew how many more days they'd be in this place. "Next time, I promise," she replied almost tenderly, knowing full well he would eat one of the chocolate bars anyway even though he complained about it.

Mac stood up, ready to go. He picked up the pamphlet, folded it, and shoved it into one back pocket. He reached down and grabbed the two candy bars, shoving them into his other back pocket. "I gotta go and show this to Victor. We'll let you know what we find out next time."

He walked to the door intending to leave, but stopped when Li Ann informed him, "I see Victor tomorrow around the same time." He nodded his head. "I'll tell him." He turned his back to her and grabbed the knob, but she interrupted him again.

"Oh, hey, the Director's informant told her that Victor had run into a little trouble with the commanding officer. He said that Vic ended up getting roughed up some. What's that all about?" Li Ann asked, slightly concerned.

Mac turned back to face her with a serious look on his face. "I think I'll let him tell you about that. Thanks for the candy, Li Ann," he replied before pulling open the door and hurrying through it, anxious to be away from Li Ann and her questions.

As Mac walked back to the block, he wondered just who exactly the informant was and how he knew that Victor had a problem with Gant.

How much does the leather freak really know about Victor and Gant? He thought, as a scowl appeared on his face.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The rain, which had been falling softly all this time, started coming down a little bit harder. Not that Victor noticed. He stood with his back to the yard, staring out through the fence, mesmerised by a group of geese that were lazily eating and grooming themselves in the field beyond the prison. The tears that had fallen so quickly earlier, had dried up just as fast. No longer weighed down by the heavy burden of secrecy, Victor, was now just too embarrassed to go back to the pod. He stood outside in the freezing chill of the rain, delaying the inevitable but he knew that the buzzer would sound eventually, and he would be forced to go back inside. Until then, he decided to just stay rooted to where he was. Every so often he would look over his shoulder, just to make sure that no big con with even bigger ideas was trying to sneak up on him. As Victor glanced over his shoulder presently, he saw that everyone seem to be actually ignoring him, with the exception of a fairly young looking inmate who was walking in his general direction.

The young man posed no threat to the agent, his build was very slight, so the ex-cop turned back and continued watching the geese. He wished that he could be over there with them, on the other side of the fence where freedom was, instead of inside a prison to which he didn't belong in the first place. He was beginning to feel like a real prisoner.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Not deterred by the fact that the other man was pointedly ignoring him, Matt never faltered in his steps towards him. He had first seen Victor in the hallway on the way to the cafeteria four days ago, when he had been busy letting another con know that invading hands were not welcome. He had wanted to go up to Victor right then and there and talk to him, but then Big Eddie had come along, so Matt had no choice but to walk with his bunk-mate to the cafeteria. Eddie was jealous of anyone who even so much as looked at him, so he knew that he had to be very careful in his approach to the new man. He didn't want Eddie to get mad and wind up hurting Victor as a end result of that time-bomb-like temper, the way he had done to other guys who had foolishly ignored his warnings to stay away from Matt.

Even Matt himself was not safe from his roommate's mood swings. One minute Eddie was happy and kind and in another enraged and violent. Eddie was in prison because he had beaten his wife one too many times, resulting in her death. Matt hated Big Eddie with a passion, hated being the one to bear the brunt of his brutish temper and loutish behaviour. He had even contemplated killing Eddie in his sleep, but he knew that little act of mutiny would tack another load of years to his sentence, and that was something he could not afford now. He had just over a year left of his sentence, then he would be able to go home to his young wife and daughter, away from this living hell. He would be able to live a normal life again. The nightmare would end soon he told himself; all he needed was patience, something he had plenty of.

Matt cleared his thoughts of Eddie as he came up to stand beside Victor. He wasn't sure if Victor would recognise him or not, it had been so many years already since they had last seen each other. But he was very glad to see the older man's handsome face and he welcomed his presence.

Victor watched the young man from the corner of his eye. He didn't know what the kid wanted but whatever it was, he had a feeling he wouldn't be interested.

"Excuse me, Victor Mansfield? Constable Mansfield?" Matt asked shyly, knowing full well that this was the man that he had known in a former life, a man who had once saved his life. At the sound of those words, Victor whirled around violently and looked at the inmate, his eyes wide with horror.

SHIT! OH SHIT! He knows me! This can't be happening!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The 'kid', or rather the young man, stood in the cold rain staring at the alarmed man before him, expectantly waiting for confirmation of what he already knew was true.

Victor swallowed hard and only when he had himself firmly under control did he dare to riposte, "Listen kid, I don't know you, and I sure as hell don't know any one named Victor Mansfield, unless he's the cop who busted me. So get out of here," as he turned away from the fair-haired inmate, Victor said, scathingly, "I want to be left alone." He was frantically racking his brain trying to place the face, but he couldn't think straight, he must have busted or ticketed hundreds of skells over his years in the police force. This kid could be anybody. He hoped a gruff manner and a rude reply would be enough to get rid of the 'kid'. If not, then there was going to be a problem. A really big problem.

Undaunted by Victor's brusque behaviour, Matt smiled at the back of Victor's soaked prison-issue T- shirt.

Of course, he's under cover. There's no way Mr. Mansfield would be in here because he broke the law.

Matt, nodded his head to himself in understanding

He's working a case and can't risk having his cover blown.

The young con knew what he had to say, so he cleared his throat and began again, "I know you're Victor Mansfield. " He held up his hands in a 'stop' gesture, preventing the former cop from interrupting him. "Don't worry," he threw in hastily when he saw the angry look on the agent's face. "I won't tell anyone who you are. I promise. After all you saved my life, I would never do anything to hurt you, . . . ever." Matt finished up softly.

Now Victor was twice as confused, "Am I supposed to know you?" he asked, dropping the guise of not knowing who Victor Mansfield was.

Matt shoved his hands deep in his pockets, inexplicably shy, he looked up at Victor, his eyes wide and clouded with emotion, "I'm Matt Vandenburg, er . . . I mean I'm a Vandenburg now, but my last name used to be August. Mathew August." He stuck out his hand, waiting for Victor to take it.

Victor looked at Matt and then at the extended hand, and suddenly, realisation dawned on him. Mathew August had been an abandoned child, turned street kid due to circumstances beyond his control, who unwittingly got swept up into a world of drugs and prostitution. Victor had been working a 'sweep' of the known neighbourhood where the male hookers plied their trade, and fortunately for Mathew; though he wouldn't have agreed at the time, Victor had arrested Matt for solicitation, thus tearing a terrified teenager off the streets and setting him down the road to a life in which the boy had always dreamed of living, but never thought he could have.

Victor, hesitantly, reached out to the young man and grasped his hand, then to his complete surprise, Matt launched himself into Victor's arms and held on tight to the former police detective. Victor, given no real choice, reluctantly returned the hug, squeezing the thin, young man in his arms back. He could hear Matt crying softly, and not sure of what to say to the emotional young felon, Victor opted for just patting his back gently.

After a few more seconds, Matt collected himself and pulled away. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Matt laughed nervously, somewhat embarrassed at his emotional outburst. He wished that he hadn't cried in front of Victor, but he couldn't help himself, "I'm sorry to go all PMS on you, " he chuckled nervously again, "but you don't know how good it feels to know that you're here. You're the one guy in this place that I KNOW I can trust. Believe me, that's big deal."

Victor smiled back and, putting a friendly arm around Matt, led him towards the secluded bench that stood by itself on the far part of the yard. They both sat down, and Victor said, "I know what it's like not to have anybody to trust. Boy, do I ever know that. But you've got to promise me that you won't breathe a word about me, or else I'm dead meat."

Matt was horrified, he would never, ever put Victor in such jeopardy, "I promise, Mr. Mansfield..."

Victor cringed slightly when Matt, for the second time, used his proper last name. "Please, Matt, just call me Victor, it'll be easier that way." Victor patted Matt's knee reassuringly, letting the young man know that he trusted in him, that he believed Matt wouldn't reveal who he really was. Of course, Victor had no choice but to trust Matt, considering the young inmate already knew his identity.

"Okay, Victor. I promise. Your secret's safe with me. I , . . . " Matt got a bit choked up, but then he pulled himself together and continued, "I ..You saved my life, Victor. I could never hurt you." Matt brought his hands up and knuckled away a few tears that had escaped from his big blue eyes.

Victor was surprised that Matt still remembered him. He had thought at the time that Matt would forget about him once he got to the foster home. It was nice to know that he was still remembered for doing something nice, but as for saving his life, Victor was sure that the young man was exaggerating his part in things, curious, Victor asked, "How did I save your life? If I recall correctly, at the time you weren't that impressed with me fucking sticking my nose in where it wasn't wanted, as you called it. " Victor laughed softly. "Listen, Matt I need to talk to you about some really important stuff," Victor had not forgotten about needing to speak to Carter's former pod-mate, he had merely pushed it to the back of his mind. He had Vandenburg right here after all, besides he was dying to know why Matt credited him with saving his life. "But all that can wait for a bit, I want to know what happened after I arrested you." Victor leaned back and listened to Matt's story.

"Do you remember arresting me?" Matt knew that he personally would never forget it. He had never been so frightened. To cover up his fright, he lashed out angrily at those around him, specifically turning his acid tongue on Victor, doing everything he could to aggravate the vice cop.

Victor nodded and said "mm hmm."

Matt continued on, "Well, I know I gave you a really hard time while you interviewed me, using my big mouth to yap it up and all, but I was totally scared, scared shitless that I was going to go to juvenile lock up. Or worse, be released into Tony's -my pimp's-" reminded Matt to Victor, " custody. I knew he would be really pissed off about losing a good money earner like me for the night," Matt had ceased to look at Victor, and while he talked, his gaze went to somewhere just beyond Victor, outside of the fence, and the veteran cop knew, that Matt was seeing the boy that he had once been.

Then, the spell broke and Matt looked back to the green-eyed man. "Anyways," he shrugged, "when you said that you could get me into a foster home instead of jail if I promised to go through a drug treatment program, well I know I was less than grateful...at the time..." Matt chuckled softly, "But it was the only choice I had really, so I took it. I thought for sure the father would be some sort of perv and the wife would make me do all the grunt work around the house . . . But you know what?" Matt asked a silent Victor.

"What?" replied Victor.

"The home and the family in it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. For once there was a real fairy tale ending."

Victor raised his eyebrows questioning, intrigued, "How did it turn out, Matt?"

"Well, I guess you know that the foster parents had four real daughters, but no sons, "

Victor nodded yes, he knew the foster parents' reputation quite well, which was why he thought Matt would do well with the family, they were a good family with plenty of love for every one of their children, foster kids included.

Matt turned away from Victor and looked down at his feet, speaking to his sneakers. "They welcomed me with open arms, and didn't care about the things I had to do while living on the streets, the stealin', the hooking. They helped me kick the drugs with love, and hard work. Even their daughters really liked me. So, before I knew it, I was back in school, and a year later they adopted me." Matt's eyes filled with tears again, at the thought of his beloved family, "Me. They wanted me to be their son, and the girls wanted me to be their little brother. I was so happy. No one's ever loved me that much, including my own parents." A solitary tear made its way down Matt's cheek unnoticed. He continued, "Because of you Victor, I have two loving parents and four beautiful sisters. I've had a good life, and because of you I call the Vandenburg's mom and dad." Matt wiped away the tears.

It was obvious to Vic that Matt missed his family, dearly. Clearly his emotional attachment to them was as strong as any bond a child could have to a biological parent, so Victor had to ask, "If everything was so perfect, how did you end up in here?"

Matt who had wiped his eyes clear, replied frankly, "I'm married now. For just over three years." Victor congratulated him, and Matt accepted his good wishes, and then went on, "My wife gave birth ten months after we were married, to the most beautiful girl in the world." Matt looked out into the yard, wistful, "On the day she was born, I went out with my friends, I had just turned 19 and could get into the pubs, any ways, I ended up getting hammered, and like the fool I was, drove home. While I was driving, I hit an old man in a cross walk, he died five days later in the very same hospital my daughter had been born in." Matt turned back to Victor, " I pled no contest to third degree vehicular manslaughter, and was sentenced to four years in prison. I deserved it too. My parents and my wife have stood by me the whole way, even now. I always have them visiting, but it's not the same as having freedom." Matt looked out into the yard and said quietly, "Did you know that I haven't held my daughter since before her first birthday. She's three now, and all she knows is that her daddy lives on the other side of the glass."

Matt crossed his arms in front of himself, "That's what hurts the most. Not being able to hold my wife and my daughter. But in another year I'll be out, and no matter what, I will never ever come back to this hell hole," finished the young man with conviction.

Matt fell silent, thinking, Victor could tell, about his family and how much he loved them. As much as he would have loved to leave Matt alone with his thoughts, Victor had a job to do, so he broke the silence, and broached the subject of Joe Carter. "Matt, " consoled Victor first, "I'm sorry about your wife and daughter."

"Don't feel sorry for me Victor. I deserve it, a man died because of me." Matt did not turn around to look at Victor when he spoke, but kept his gaze on a group of men across the field, huddled under the covered patio area. The light was fading fast, and in the twilight, Matt thought he could see Big Eddie amongst the men, who were, no doubt, making some sort of drug deal.

Victor looked out over the field too, only he was searching for his partner and to his relief, he couldn't see Mac in the small crowd of people milling around. Thankfully, Mac had not come looking for him. Victor turned his thoughts from Mac to the job, and why he was here in the first place, and decided, in a bold move, to lay all of his cards on the table for Matt, "Look Matt, as you've probably already guessed, I'm in here undercover."

Victor didn't think he needed to get into the why's and where-fore's of whom exactly he was working for or with, Matt would just assume that he was still a cop, and it was better to let him think that. Matt turned to face Victor, and then it was Victor's turn to look away, out into the field, "I'm investigating the disappearance of Joey Carter. And the best way to do that is from the inside," Victor had already decided not to mention Mac, he didn't want his partners safety endangered any more than it already was.

"I already know that he was your pod-mate, is there anything you can tell me about his movements on the day he disappeared? Even if it seems insignificant, it might be helpful." Victor finished.

Matt thought for a minute, then shook his head as if to clear it, "Well he was having some problems with *the Musketeers*, but I guess you already know all that?" he asked.

Victor nodded his assent, so Matt went on, "Well the only thing that I can think to add to that whole story is that on the day he went missing, Gant came to see him, right in our pod." Matt swallowed, "That's not something Gant usually does. If he wants to talk to you, he sends that rottweiler of his, Walker, to haul your ass to his office. But this time the big man came in personally and told me to fuck off, so I did. I went to the one of the tables in the centre of the block and watched them through the glass."

Matt squinted his eyes, recalling the events, "They were having some argument too. Gant was screaming and hollering, waving his arms around, and Joey was shouting back. I don't know what they said to each other, but Gant shouted something, and then Joey didn't seem to speak after that, then they both left the pod, together." Matt grimaced, "I never saw Joey again after that, and when I asked Gant about it a few days later, all he said to me was that Joey was in the hole, and when he finished his stretch in there then he was going to be transferred out, to a different facility, for his own safety. On account that the 'four Musketeers' had it in for him." Matt shrugged, "I didn't want to ask too many questions, not that Gant would answer them any ways."

"Then I got Big Eddie for a pod-mate, and from there on in I had my own problems to worry about. Like hoping that Eddie doesn't kill me while fucking me." Matt snorted, disgusted with his current situation. Embarrassed, he couldn't look at Victor; he didn't know why he had confessed that last bit to Victor, except that maybe he felt a little more secure knowing he had one true friend in this place, a friend who would never intentionally hurt him.

Victor reached out and rubbed Matt's shoulder gently. The sky had grown dark; the large lights in the yard were already on. Victor couldn't recall when they had been turned on. "Do you want me to talk to this Eddie character and get him to back off? I will if you want me too." Feeling helpless because of his own situation with Gant, the ex-cop wanted nothing more than to take some control, even though the circumstances had nothing to do with him. Besides Victor was itching to kick the shit out of someone, and if it couldn't be his personal tormentor Gant, then Big Eddie would do nicely. Victor wanted to help out Matt any way he could.

The young con smiled wearily, suddenly looking older than his twenty-two years, "No, it's all right. Really." Matt implored when Victor gave him a dubious look, "I have just over a year to go, and all I have to do is put up with it and bide my time, then I'll be out of this shit hole, and on my way to making a fresh start with my wife and my daughter. But thanks anyway, it'll be nice to know that I have one friend I can count on in here, even if it is just for a little while."

Victor shrugged his shoulders in acquiescence. Matt, at least, had a positive disposition, all things considered. They sat in a companionable silence for a few more minutes, then the yard bell rang, and it was time, all too soon in Victor's opinion, to go inside.

The two stood up in unison, Victor looked at the clock against the far wall, he couldn't read the time, he was much too far away for that, but he knew, by the ringing of the yard bell that it was 5:35. Dinner would be in twenty-five minutes. Both men crossed the dark yard, and when they reached the doors to go in, Matt turned and hugged Victor again, saying, "Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder, I guess I needed that."

Victor returned the hug to the man he'd known as a boy. "Any time Matt, anytime. If you think of anything else come and see me I'm in pod . . . "

Matt interrupted, "I know your pod. Maybe I could come by just to pass the time, would that be okay?"

Victor smiled, "Sure, anytime." Then Matt opened the door and went inside, Victor following him through it.

In the darkened shadows, unseen by either Victor or Matt, stood Big Eddie. And he was seething with jealousy over the way he perceived Matt to be fawning over Victor, an inmate he did not know. Eddie knew that Matt had been with Victor all afternoon. In fact he had seen them meet up in the far part of the yard. He'd watched as they hugged each other, then sat together talking all the time. Eddie had also witnessed the other inmate touching Matt, on his knee, on his shoulder. Eddie was enraged at the way Matt allowed it to happen. When the bell had sounded out, Eddie hid amongst the shadows, witnessing yet another hug between the men, and that sewed it up for Eddie, obviously Matt was fooling around with the new con . . . Well first he would teach Matt a lesson, then the new guy, Victor something or other.

Eddie pushed himself away from the wall and followed the men, shortly after their display outside. Once inside the men said a simple goodbye to each other and parted ways. Eddie narrowed his eyes at the back of Victor, a million ways to shank the man who would dare steal his lover running over and over through his brain.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor after having said his goodbyes to Matt, headed for his own pod, walking slowly, hoping that Mac would not be in the pod waiting for his return. Victor walked right by Walker. He looked the guard in the eyes long enough to note his presence, but he did not speak to him. Victor didn't think he could deal with the 'rottweiler's' - as Matt so aptly put it - head games right then. He strolled past the guard and went right into the small room, acutely aware that the guard was watching him the whole way. Victor entered the cell, shut the door behind himself and leaned against it.

Mac immediately jumped up from his cot. He had been so worried about Victor, and where he was. Judging by his drenched state, Mac guessed, correctly, that Victor had been outdoors in the rain the whole time. "Where have you been Vic? Christ, I've been worried?" Mac couldn't believe that he was actually questioning Victor about his whereabouts, treating Victor as though he was a teenager who had brought his father's car home late.

Victor avoided looking at Mac; he was still embarrassed about his earlier disclosure, so he didn't answer Mac's question immediately, instead, he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing out the wetness. He peeled off his now see-through T-shirt and grabbed his towel. While drying himself off, he finally answered, "I've only been in the yard. I thought that you might be in the dining hall already." Victor hung up his towel, and still shirtless, turned to face Mac, "What did LiAnn have to say?"

Mac blew out his breath slowly, unaware that he had been holding it, just the sight of Victor shirtless, got his pulse racing. He sat back down and grabbed his pillow, putting it in his lap, the gesture looked innocent enough, but he was really, once again, hiding his fledgling erection. He spoke casually, as if there was nothing wrong, "Oh, nothing new, but you have an appointment to see her tomorrow. She sent some chocolate for you. It's on your pillow."

Victor smiled at the mention of chocolate. He was relieved that his partner apparently wasn't going to make him dredge up the sordid details of Gant and the rape. He rummaged through his small locker and pulled out a fresh T-shirt, wincing slightly at a pain he felt at the back of his shoulder blade when he moved his arm to pull the T-shirt on. Ignoring the discomfort, he said to Mac, "I talked to Matt Vandenburg today." Victor went over to the mirror and looked in, running a quick comb through his short hair he turned around, "Turns out I arrested him once." Mac cried out in alarm but Victor went on, "Don't' worry, he's a stand-up guy, I'll tell you the story after supper" then as if on cue, the dinner bell rang, signalling the men out of their pod.

Mac tossed his pillow aside, luckily for him his erection had dissipated.

Victor held the door open and followed Mac through. Neither man noticing the poisonous looks Victor was getting from Big Eddie . . .

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The partners sat at their assigned table in the large cafeteria; each man absorbed in his silence. Finally, bored with the quiet, Mac looked up at Victor and said quietly, "Over there." Suggesting to the older man that he should look over his shoulder, and once Victor had, Mac went on to say, "That quad of idiots behind me are the four musketeers." Mac gave his partner a large grin and raised his eyebrows, "The two with the matching black eyes are the ones who went after me earlier." He speared one greasy sausage with his fork and bit it in half, chewing vigorously.

Victor laughed out loud, then covered his mouth.

At least, he thought, they look worse than Mac does.

Both men ignored the shooting glares that were coming their way from Mac's would-be attackers and went back to eating their dinner in the companionable quiet. The dinner hour passed quickly despite the fact that the two agents never really spoke more than a few words to each other.

It appeared, to those eating around the pair of men that the two men were angry with each other. But anger wasn't a really factor in their silence towards each other so much as was the awkwardness. Simply put, neither Victor nor Mac knew what to say to each other.

For Mac's part, he had decided to let Victor broach the delicate subject -- which had earlier in the day caused his partner to dash out of the pod abruptly -- only if he chose to do so.

And Victor, not knowing the right way in which to bring up the painful topic, chose silence as his way to cloak his shame and humiliation.

Owing to the fact that Victor and Mac were attractive men, and still new enough to cause a good deal of attention, the unusual quiet between them did not go unnoticed by the other cons, who were dutifully whispering while simultaneously shovelling bland, but healthy food into their mouths. The cons in the immediate vicinity of the two handsome men whispered innuendo back and forth about Mac and Victor having had a 'lover's quarrel', and that there was 'trouble in paradise.'

Hardened felons snickered quietly to each other over the unintentional soap opera, the agents were unwittingly providing.

Both men were, by now, used to looks followed by whispering. But it still bothered Victor to be the centre of attention, although lately he was finding it a little easier to dismiss the other con's looks.

Victor and Mac, unaware of the entertainment they were providing to the others at the nearby tables, had tuned out the gossiping that was going on all around them.

Each man had his own thoughts to deal with. Logically, Victor knew that at some point he was going to have to bring up Gant and the assault; to talk things over with Mac -- and not just the stuff about Gant, he would have to let Mac know about what Matt Vandenburg had said -- but for now, Victor just wanted to sit and not have think about anything; there would be plenty of time to discuss matters when they were locked in for the night.

He was pleased that Mac had, evidently, decided to leave things alone as well. As the men sat and ate, Victor ruminated about both Mac and Li Ann, on how opposite they were to each other. Li Ann would have picked at his 'scabs' until she pulled the truth from him, no matter what. Whereas Mac, was willing to let things slide, until such time when Vic felt like talking about things. Then he would be there, all ears and understanding, willing to help if that was what you wanted from him. Victor unconsciously smiled into his mashed potatoes when he thought of Mac.

Mac, again grown bored with the total silence, laid his spoon down across the plate and tossing his paper napkin down after the spoon, asked Victor casually, "Want to catch an hour in the weight room before lock-in?"

The older agent looked up from his mostly untouched meal, a tiny smile still playing around his mouth, "Yeah that sounds good. I could use a few rounds with the weight bag." He shoved the plate away from in front of himself.

Immediately following supper the men headed straight to the prison's weight room, and once in there, each agent went to his favourite area and worked out vigorously, uninterrupted for the next hour. Mac preferred to lift weights, and Victor chose to beat the hell of out of the heavy bag suspended from the ceiling. The hour passing quickly for both agents, each needed the time to deal with the working stress of living 'in' the prison.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The timed locks clicked shut and the bright lights dimmed throughout B block. Mac stood at the front of the pod, his arms were pressed against the glass above his head, shirtless and clad only in his boxer briefs, he rested his forehead against the backs of his wrists and looked out into the darkened courtyard. Victor, shirtless and dressed only in boxer briefs as well, lay on his top bunk, arms folded neatly behind his head. There was a spot on the back of his shoulder paining him, and he silently wondered which he should bring up first; Matt or Gant. However, before Victor could come to any definite decision, Mac made the choice for him by stating, "I guess we should look up Vandenburg tomorrow eh? See what he has to say about Carter."

It's decided then. Matt first.

"Don't need too." Commented Victor casually as he freed up one of his arms and probed the sore spot. He could feel that the place where Gant had clutched his bare skin during the rape was hot and painful to touch, the scabs and the surrounding area felt raised and swollen. Probably infected. The bastard!

"Oh?" Mac turned around to face Victor, leaning his bare back against the cool Plexiglas.

"Yeah." Victor rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow, his head resting in the palm of his hand, ignoring the sore spots for the moment. "When I was outside in the courtyard today thinking about er . . . stuff he approached me."

Mac raised his eyebrows at Victor in silent questioning.

"Turns out I know him" Victor continued casually.

The younger man interrupted Victor by yelling, "What! How?" His concern for Victor was evident in his voice. In fact, Mac was very worried, an inmate who knew exactly who Victor really was, was dangerous, way too dangerous. "In the morning we'll have Li Ann pull you out."

"But . . . wai . . . " Victor tried to interrupt, but Mac, with his concern, ignored his partner's attempts to speak and forged on, full steam, busily making plans for the older man.

"We'll tell them you're sick, the Director will buy that, then once you're out you should go to Nathan and find out how this guy slipped through the prisoner checks that the agency did," hissed Mac angrily, as he paced back and forth in front of Victor's bunk, the wheels in his mind turning with deep thought.

Finally Victor gave up trying to get a word in edgewise on Mac and smiled at his partner, as the brown- eyed agent worried his hands together in front of himself.

"There's no help for it," concluded Mac, "I'll just have to work this alone," He stopped in front of Victor. "Unless they send in one of the cleaners, or both, to back me up. It can't be Dobrinski, he's already been seen as the 'law'. No it will have to be Murphy or Camier, or maybe even an agent I haven't worked with before. So what do you think?"

"About what?" replied Victor, amused with Mac and his plan making.

Mac grimaced, distressed at the situation enough for both he and his partner "About the colour of my underwear!" Retorted Mac sarcastically, worried that his partner was not taking the current turn of events seriously enough, "What do you think I mean? I'm talking about getting you out of here tomorrow under the guise of being sick?" Mac looked at Victor expectantly, waiting for an answer from the grinning man on the bed.

"The black suits you." Victor ignored Mac's glare. "No seriously. Are you done ranting yet?" he asked his partner calmly. The younger man was making it obvious to Victor, that he did not see the humour in the situation.

Mac nodded but did not speak.

"Good. Cause it's really sweet of you to care, Mac," Victor smiled indulgently at his partner again. "but there's no need to ship me out just yet."

At this point Mac tried to object, but Victor held up his hand, "No I mean it. Just listen to me. It turns out that when I was working Vice I arrested him. Luckily," Victor grinned again at the irony. "He considers the arrest to be the best thing that ever happened to him."

Mac let out a quiet "Ohhhh" in response to that.

Victor sat up on his bunk and gingerly leaned against the cold cement wall, he winced at the pain from the pressure against the deep scratch mark, the pain from which had more than doubled in the last few minutes, but the coolness of the wall felt good against the area; now hot and flaming.

"Matt had a lot of problems then -- and now for that matter -- but I'll explain them to you later. The end result of the whole ordeal turned out to be good for him. The people at the foster home where I recommended he be sent adopted him as one of their own. He's in here by accident. I'll explain that to you later too. Anyways, a long story short, Matt feels that I saved his life, and he promised me that he would never do anything to mess me up. He's trying to stay out of trouble because he's up for parole in a year and some change. He still thinks I'm a regular cop."

Victor raised his eyebrows at that. "I told him I was inside here undercover, investigating Carter's disappearance." Victor caught the disbelief written all over Mac's handsome face, "No really Mac, he won't rat me out. Besides, I didn't tell him about you, so no matter what, your cover will be safe."

Victor wouldn't come right out and say it to Mac, but he was relieved that the younger man would be safe; just in case someone else found him out. Victor couldn't bear the thought of his partner coming to any sort of harm because of him.

Mac scowled in Victor's direction. "I'm not worried about myself. It's you I'm concerned for!"

The two agents argued back and forth for a while and Mac finally gave up verbally sparring with his partner.

He conceded "All right. All right. I guess there's nothing we can do about things anyway. Are you sure you can trust this Matt guy?" Victor might believe in his 'long lost' friend, but Mac was not so sanguine.

"Positive" replied Victor, who was distractedly exploring the sore patch of flesh behind his left shoulder. He winced again at the pain.

"Are you all right Vic?" asked Mac, who had seen Victor spasm briefly from pain.

Though Mac had not brought it up to Victor, he could still see the evidence of Gant's assault on his partner's body. The bruising, while faint, was still visible, staining his partner's flesh with yellow and green blotches, resembling pieces of a puzzle, random in size and shape. Victor's ribs and the backs of his legs still held the markings, with some light purple tossed in for contrast. The black eyes however, had for the most part disappeared, only visible if you were up close and face to face with him. If there was soreness and bruising anywhere else, Victor kept his mouth shut and didn't bother complaining to Mac about it.

"Yeah, I've got a sore spot behind my shoulder that's been kind of hurting me all day, but now all of a sudden it's really tender, " Victor hopped off his bunk and turned his back to his partner. "Will you look at it for me?" Victor crossed his arms over the top of the edge of his mattress and rested his head against his forearms, waiting to be examined.

Mac walked to Victor, as he surveyed his cohort's well-muscled back; licking his lips unconsciously at the sight.

"Well?" asked Victor. "What's there?"

Mac's stomach fluttered, as he reached out a tentative finger and softly touched scratch marks that, in Mac's opinion, closely resembled five perfect half moon finger-nail marks. As he pushed, Victor exhaled heavily, but said nothing. Mac frowned at the thick greenish discharge that oozed from one of the scabs. He knew full well that they had to have come from Gant -- no doubt when he was in the process of violating Victor. Mac raised his eyes and saw, to his personal dismay, that Gant had also left a dark bruise - - now fading -- that was a perfect mouth shape. Now Mac's stomach, instead of having butterflies from being so close to Victor, felt as if it had a lump in it. The senior guard's depravity seemed to grow worse and worse, and Mac silently vowed to himself that he would make the man pay for robbing his partner -- his best friend -- of his most prized possession; his dignity.

Mac didn't quite know how he was going to make Gant pay yet . . . but he would pay, one way or another.

"You're awfully quiet. What's wrong?" Victor stood up and tried looking over his shoulder at the wound.

Mac cleared his voice, calming himself, and said neutrally, "Well, it looks like you have some scratches back here, and they've got infected." The younger man ran his fingers lightly over the scabs as he talked. Then without even realising what he was doing, he continued with his explorations and gently, soft as satin, ran the tips of his fingers down Victor's side, closing his eyes to the sensation when he felt the dips between the ribs on the cage beneath his fingertips.

"I think you should go to the infirmary tomorrow, and have the Doctor take a look at them . . . " Mac's husky voice trailed off. He opened his eyes and watched as his hand travelled down past Victor's ribs. His fingers, as if thinking all on their own, curved around to the front. Mac turned his hand over so that the backs of his short nails delicately ran across the slightly concave abdomen beneath them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mac noted that Victor had lost weight already while incarcerated. He did not dwell on the thought but merely filed the information away. When he felt the small bumps on Victor's flesh rise, as if in shy greeting to his touch, Mac smiled to the back of his partners head. Unable to control himself any more Mac did what he had wanted to do for such a long time; he leaned in and put his lips against Victor's right shoulder and murmured faintly, "You have so much pain Victor. Let me help you make it go away." Victor's skin was warm and dry against his plump lips.

Victor inhaled deeply at Mac's feathery touches, but otherwise he did not move, neither did he protest against Mac's ministrations. On the contrary, Victor could feel his cock hardening under the delicate massage, and it felt good. It had been a long time since someone had taken a healthy interest in him, and longer still since he'd had the feelings he was experiencing now. Mac was letting Victor know, with actions not words, just how he felt about him.

Victor sighed, but did not respond to Mac when he spoke, and Mac, taking Victor's silence as permission, began to plant soft kisses across his other shoulder.

It felt so good to be wanted, genuinely wanted.

Gant had used Victor badly, but for the guard it had been all about control.

Instinctively Victor knew that Mac's lust for him was real from the way his partner was now kissing up the side of his neck.

Victor arched his head in the opposite direction to give Mac easier access. Slowly he reached down and put his hand over top of his partner's hand, stopping the long fingers from dipping too far below the elastic line of his underwear. Having come to a decision, Victor turned around and faced Mac.

Their eyes met briefly and Mac knew, by the look in Victor's green eyes that he had his partners consent.

Mac took one step closer, so that the men were virtually standing torso to torso, groin to groin.

Wordlessly Mac leaned his dark head down and kissed his partner gently on the lips, bringing his hands up to cup the agent's face softly, as though he were holding a delicate robin's egg.

Victor, who was leaning back against the side of the bunks, returned the kiss, a little hesitantly at first but then he relented and opened his mouth half way to meet Mac's inquisitive tongue.

All the time the men were kissing, Victor tried to vanquish thoughts of Gant from his memory. Rationally he knew that the simple act of he and Mac kissing in no way resembled what he had been through with the commander of the guards, but mentally he had to keep telling himself to 'relax', 'be calm'. The kiss felt good; somehow so right.

When Mac began to slowly rotate his groin over Victor's own erection, Victor had decided that he had had enough, . . . for now. He covered Mac's hands with his own and pulled out from the long, sensuous kiss.

Mac's pupils were wide with lust and wanting.

Victor smiled gently at his partner. He pulled Mac's hands from his face and laced his fingers between them. "We need to slow down, okay" he husked.

Suddenly Mac felt ashamed. How could he even think of seducing Victor so soon after such a violent act had been committed against him? Mac's cheeks reddened with shame at the thought, and his erection immediately began to ebb. "GodI'm so sorry Vic. I don't know what came over me. I promise I won't touch you again. It's just that I thought you wanted to..?" He didn't finish his thought but left the unspoken words between them dangling in the air.

Victor squeezed Mac's hands briefly then released them, "I want what you want, Mac." He smiled showing his perfect teeth. "It's just that I need to take things one step at a time. You understand. Right?" He was hoping that the younger man would understand, because he really wanted to be with him; he just had to take a little time in reaching that plateau.

Mac nodded his head, he understood. "You're right Vic. We have lots of time." He leaned in and gave Victor a quick peck on the lips, soft and sure, as if he was sealing a pact with his partner. "Let's get some shut-eye; it's late." Victor nodded and climbed up into his own bunk. He had, for a short time, forgotten about his sore shoulder, but now laying flat on his back it was hard to ignore just how exactly he had attained the scratches. Victor asked his partner matter of factly, "Do you think that the scratches look like finger nail marks?"

Mac pressed his lips in a firm line and looked up at the bottom of Victor's bunk, too angry to say anything but a simple, forced "Yes."

"Yeah, I figured as much," replied Victor who for some reason unknown to him suddenly wanted to start talking about what had happened to him. In the dark it felt safe, and deep down he knew that Mac would not only keep his confessions private, just between them, but he would not look down on his partner for having been on the receiving end of an assault. "That's where Gant dug his fingers in, just before he bit the back of my neck. That PRICK!" cursed Victor," shoulda known he'd have dirty finger-nails. Probably didn't wash his hands that day."

Mac had seen the bruise on the back of Victor's neck earlier and had assumed correctly, what that mark was from. "Don't worry. Gant will get his someday. You'll see," he promised, in much in the same way he had silently pledged to Victor in the shower immediately following the incident.

"Yeah, I know," stated Victor flatly. Someday, someway, somehow, Victor would be sure to pay Gant back for his crime. "After work tomorrow I'll ask Walker to give me a pass to the infirmary, I guess I'm going to need some antibiotics." Victor tossed out the rather grim thought, "I suppose I should be happy he didn't give me the clap too, on top of everything else."

Mac supposed silently that Victor was lucky that Gant hadn't given him more than a bunch of bruises and a nasty infection, but either way, Mac didn't feel like it was his place to comment directly on it. Instead he said, "I don't trust Walker. I don't like the way he looks at us."

Walkers' glances and glares were not as secret as he thought.

"What? Does he look at you like he wants to ask you out, too? Does he touch you a lot?" Now it was Victor's turn to be concerned for his partner. He didn't want Mac falling prey to Walker and his cruel mind games. Victor knew all to well about the kinds of games that the blond guard liked to play.

"Looking at me with the evil-eye is more like it." Mac wetted his lips, glad for the darkness, "I get the distinct feeling that he is jealous of me."

"Oh? Why's that?"

''Well, for one I think he's 'soft' on you."

Victor sputtered as he tried to deny the comment.

"No, " interjected Mac, "It's true, I've caught him quite a few times watching you when you weren't aware. And when he realises that he's been caught looking at you, he gets all pissed off and then gives me a hard time." Mac shook his head, "You should be careful around him. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."

Victor flopped over onto his belly, seeking relief from the pain of the infected scratches, "Don't worry about him; he's all about mind games. He's not interested in me" Victor suddenly recalled the time when Walker had approached him and got in way too close. The guards hands had squeezed his shoulders, letting his prisoner know just exactly who held the key to the locked door.

Mac changing the subject asked, "So tell me about Matt, and the arrest. What happened back then?" Victor arranged his pillow to make himself more comfortable, settling in on the small bunk and to tell the story of Matt Vandenburg, or rather, Matthew August . . .

"Alright," Agreed Victor..

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Toronto, was in the grip of one of the hottest heat waves ever on record. The thick heat hung over a city of three million plus people, holding the hot, humid air in like a wool blanket. The air was so thick that not only could you see it, but you could feel on your skin, filling up your pores, leaving you with the feeling that within a few minutes of being outdoors you needed to shower all over again.

Mother Nature's oppressive weather had made even the most mild-mannered people cranky.

It was with these thoughts of how shitty the city was in August, that Victor Mansfield sat down heavily on a cool, metal back chair. He was a few minutes early for the routine roll call that came with every change of shift.

Victor peeled the security seal from his icy bottle of convenience store bought water and pulled the top up. Leaning his head back he squeezed a mouth full of the cool liquid. Swishing then swallowing, Victor repeated the gesture over again, this time without the swishing, merely swallowing. He placed the chilly bottle between his jean-clad legs and pulled a regulation notebook from his back pocket, readying himself for the sergeant's instructions and/or assignments for the evening's planned sweep. Victor was on his second shift of a five night stint, working seven at night to seven in the morning. After working the nights, he would have four days off in a row, followed up by five full days of working the day shift; seven in the morning until seven at night. The schedule always rotated in the same manner.

Victor didn't know yet whether or not he would be working female or male prostitutes, or if the four men, including himself and two female officers were going to play 'johns' or 'hookers'. The roles of the six-member squad depended on what kind of sweep was planned for the night. The team would not find that out until the Sargent came to talk to them, which was, judging by Victor's watch, just another minute or two away.

The young cop didn't mind the graveyard shift. Usually something interesting happened over the course of a night in the city. It was true that he much preferred the day shift and busting asshole drug dealers bold enough to sell their wares on any street corner they could find by the sunny light of the day. It was easy busting those punks, most times any ways.

The night shift, however --well that was a whole different story.

Victor had come into the vice squad knowing full well what the job encompassed, but he got tired of always playing the role of a male prostitute. It was the sergeant who picked the assignments, and when it was the men's turn to dress up in the tight, torn clothes of a male whore, Victor always seemed to be the one who was working the shift that required the hustler. He didn't mind doing his share; after all, the ladies in his squad bore most of the brunt of the work, female prostitution being far more prevalent. Victor knew the women certainly didn't mind being in the back up position once in a while; it gave them a break and kept their skills sharp.

Once, Victor had asked the sergeant why he always had to be the one standing on the street corner peddling his wares, and the sarge only chuckled at Victor's question and answered with a great deal of humour in his voice. "Look around at your male partners Mansfield." At which Victor had turned around and watched the three other men he was partnered with.

They were laughing over a cup of coffee. All three cops were at least 15 years older than he, and even though the officers were by no means ugly, all were well beyond the reasonably acceptable age for a prostitute. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Victor suddenly realised just why exactly he had made detective so easily, and been accepted into the squad so readily.

Because of his looks; not his service record.

When Victor had turned back to his boss, the sarge had said to him, sensibly, "Listen Mansfield, you're a 26 year old, experienced cop who can pass for 19 or twenty and that's an asset when you're working the vice beat. Those three old timers couldn't make 100 bucks in a week trying to peddle their asses, let alone reel in one trick!"

The good-natured sergeant laughed again, "Your bust record for johns is unprecedented, you get so many offers while working."

Victor grimaced slightly at that; not exactly a highlight on his performance record that he wanted to be noted for.

The Sergeant belched lightly and pinched Victor's cheek, "Your experience is an asset to this crew. Besides, you're sooo damn cute." The sergeant chucked Victor under the chin and walked away, yelling for the group of people to gather around. Victor looked sourly after his boss. Promoted to detective based on his ability to attract a john? The truth left a bad taste in his mouth, but yet here he still was, and the situation wasn't all that bad. He really did like the whole team he worked with and trusted them all, including the female officers, to watch his back when he was the bait. The good stuff about working for vice, and the rewards that came with it, far outweighed the humiliating way he had got his job in the first place; Victor knew that he had long since proven his boss that he was more than just a pretty face.

Victor put aside his nostalgic thoughts as soon as the sergeant entered the room. That particular conversation he had been thinking of had taken place over a year before. Normally Victor wasn't the type to stew about stuff; it was only lately he had been re- thinking his part in the squad. Two weeks ago he had ran into an old friend with whom he had gone through the academy.

Stan had talked to him about leaving vice and coming over to narcotics. "The war against street drugs is escalating, Victor, and the narcotics division needs all the help it can get," was what Stan had said to him. Then he'd added, "We need every good cop. You're stagnating in vice, Vic, I bet the sarge has you playing the whore every time you work the men. Don't you get tired being on display? Narcotics is the place to be right now; it's where the action is."

Victor had immediately declined Stan's offer, but when Stan pressed him, he told his friend that he would at least 'think about it'. Victor wasn't quite ready to leave the comfort of partners he knew so well for a squad of strangers about whom he knew next to nothing, but the conversation with his old friend had been enough to get him thinking. He was growing bored with the job he was doing, and lately he had found himself resenting having to play a younger, vulnerable guy. He was now 27 years old: a grown man, and he wanted to be treated like one. Sometimes when he was dressed the part of a street hooker, Victor's male partners treated him differently without even realising it, as though he were somehow less of an equal. Even the ladies would joke and call him 'The Face.'

The guys teased him playfully, calling his ass 'sweet' and his body 'edible'. Victor knew that they were only kidding, but after hearing the jokes more than once they ceased to be funny, and simply felt demeaning. Everything was starting to wear thin with him; his self worth was plummeting like the stock market.

Along with the unoriginal jibes, the thing that Victor hated most about the job was the clothes that he had to wear when standing on that particular 'side of the street'. His costume consisted of tight, tight blue jeans with large frayed rips in both of the knees and a palm sized hole where Victor's leg met with his buttock, exposing some of his left cheek. The tear had been put there purposely, and it screamed to the world, 'For Sale' just the same as a bright red ticket on a discount item. The blue jeans exposed the firm flesh below his waist, and an ordinary white T-shirt with holes made by bleach took care of displaying the flesh above his slim waist. The holes in the shirt were about two inches in length and exposed the wearer's right nipple. For nights when it was chilly, Victor had a plain jean jacket that rounded out the whole 'street whore' ensemble.

Tonight however, much to Victor's relief, the team would not be playing hookers, two of the male members of the squad would be posing as johns, the rest working back up. And instead of rousting the feminine segment of the seamy trade, they would be sweeping the male end of the business. Victor didn't mind posing as a john, but he hoped that for tonight's operation he would be working the other side of the street and backing up two of his older male partners. One of the female officers, Grimes and a male partner- on this particular assignment it was Macdonald- would be waiting in a nearby designated motel room. When the undercover officers brought a target back to the motel, the pair would be on the other side of an adjoining door waiting to pounce. The cop who was playing a john would then go back to the street leaving Grimes and Macdonald with the task of handling the paperwork, ticketing the accused and having them sign a 'promise to appear' form.

If there were any wants or warrants out on the pro, (something which was highly likely) then they would restrain the prisoner with zap straps for handcuffs and secure him to his seat. At the end of the shift the paddy wagon would come by and pick up the guys who had to go to the lock-up overnight. Working the motel room was the best part about a sweep, because you were indoors, warm in the winter and cool with air conditioning for the summer months.

After the Sergeant had handed Grimes and Macdonald their assignments he smiled broadly and rested his eyes on Victor, "Let's give the hard working gentlemen out there a bit of a thrill tonight. Let them think that they're actually going to get someone young and cute to 'screw'. Victor you're a john tonight, you and," the sergeant swept his practised eye over the three other men and said, "Noel, can work the boys."

Victor gave a half smile and rolled his eyes.

Again with the comments!

That left Bains and the other female member of the squad -- Linden -- working back- up. Their jobs would entail keeping an eye on both officers working the street, watching their backs in case the hustler decided that he would rather pull a weapon and rob the 'trick' instead of going through with the intended deal; it did sometimes happen. All four cops on the street would be miked to each other for safety purposes. Tonight, Noel -- because he was a good deal older than Victor -- would drive around in an unmarked car, approaching the prostitutes and coaxing them into the vehicle on the premise that he had a motel room around the corner. Of course he would drive the man to the room where Grimes and Macdonald were. Victor on the other hand would approach by foot, walking up and soliciting a hustler, then leading him to a nearby alley where Linden and Bains waited in an ghost car; They would then take over and bring the arrested man to the motel room.

The sergeant finished up his briefing with a jovial, "You know what to do, so get going." All six officers stood up, and Victor went straight to the coffee machine knowing the coffee brought with them in a steel thermos would turn into sludge long before his work on the asphalt ended. He wanted to get at least one good cup of java into him before he hit the muggy streets.

Clad in jeans, and a trendy, short-sleeved shirt that accentuated his large biceps, Victor was already appropriately attired for an evening of 'trolling'. His partner, Noel, a man of 50, was dressed in a lightweight suit. He very closely resembled a middle aged businessman therefore he too was ready for a night's work driving through the neighbourhoods known to have male hustlers working in them.

"Let's rock 'n' roll, people." declared Grimes, and the team of six left the roll call room together.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

At the end of the night, Victor handed his last arrest over into the very capable hands of Grimes and Macdonald. Turning to the rest of the team he said, "I'm done for the night. Noel and I are going to take the car he was using back to the house."

Linden, who was busily scribbling out some notes for her own paperwork, looked up from her notepad and asked Victor, "Would you do me a favour?"

"Sure, what?"

"Stop in at the all night store on the way and grab me some real cream. I'm tired of that powdered shit! If we're going to finish the shift with a pile of paper work, I am going to need a decent cup of coffee."

Victor flashed Linden a big smile, "Okay. No problem." He looked around the room and asked, "Anybody else want anything?" All at once the other members started shouting out names of chocolate bars. Victor laughed and started out the door, "You'll get what I bring," he stated, still smiling as he shut the door behind him.

Noel, who was already waiting for Victor in the car, honked the horn in a 'hurry up gesture' just as his partner was exiting the motel room. Victor grinned, opened the beat- up car door and jumped in, "Linden wants cream for the coffee tonight; we gotta' go to the store before we hit the station." Noel, not a man of many words only grunted.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Noel pulled up to the curb about 20 feet from the front of the all-night store and shut the motor off. Victor looked over his shoulder at the distance between the car and the store; there was not another vehicle on the street anywhere. He looked back at Noel, "Having a little problem with your parallel parking?" he jested, wittily.

Noel turned and looked straight-faced at his younger partner, "What? Big strong guy like you afraid of being jumped by a nasty mugger?" Noel smiled and unbuckled his seat belt, "Actually, I've got to piss like a race horse; I'm going to slip into the alley while you're in the store. Wouldn't look too good for a vice cop to get busted with his wang hanging out. Right?"

Victor laughed and shook his head, "Figures you'd need to piss. Didn't your mother ever tell you that you're supposed to pee before leaving the house?" Victor didn't wait for an answer, as he hopped out of the car.

About half way to the store, he walked by a boy of about 13 or 14 years old who was partially hidden in the dim shadows. The street's watery light illuminated the boy's face like a faded spotlight. As he passed, Victor turned and looked the boy in the eyes for brief moment, and the boy met his gaze directly, a shy smile playing about his large, full mouth. Victor returned the small smile and then snapped his head forward. Pulling the door open, he entered the grocery store. Once inside, while he was picking out chocolate bars, Victor wondered about the boy -- where his home was, and why was he out standing in the street at three a.m. Of course, Victor knew that there were teenage prostitutes all over the city, girls and boys, but this wasn't the right neighbourhood for the boy hookers, or at least it hadn't been, he amended, but the areas changed all the time, and Victor admitted to himself that the boy did have that look about him.

Well, my night for busting people is over with. Just as long as he doesn't proposition me.

Victor paid for his goods, stuffed the change into the front pocket of his jeans and started down the street towards the car; he saw the boy again, standing still in the same spot, as if his feet had grown roots. Victor shook his head sadly at the boy's situation. Even though he didn't know exactly what kind of situation it might be, he knew instinctively that it couldn't be good if he was already working a street corner at such a tender age.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Matt had smiled hopefully at the man when he first passed by, and the man in return had smiled softly back, making the boy optimistic that his night would soon be over. He had assumed from the way the man had looked directly at him that he liked what he saw. That would be all right. Matt needed to earn another fifty bucks before he could get off the street. Forty of it to line Tony the pimp's pockets and ten dollars for himself so he could buy a couple of rocks of crack to smoke. Matt hated his life, hated the fact that he had been caught up in Tony's and his mother's lies. He was so deeply immersed into the life that there was only one way out for him now and that was in a body bag.

Tony would never let him go otherwise.

But Matt wasn't quite ready to kill himself outrightyet Instead he'd do it one piece at a time by choosing risky sex and using drugs as his weapons against himself. Matt smoked crack, and any other drug he could get his hands on to forget about the way he made his living. Too bad the memories of his miserable life came rushing back to him the minute the rock ran out. When that happened it was back to the street, peddling his ass to get more money for Tony and for his drugs...A vicious cycle that had no end to it...Or so Matt thought.

Matt watched the good-looking guy come back out of the store, the frame of his nicely built physique surrounded by a halo of light given off by the neon lights of the stores' 'open all the time' sign. Most of the men that paid Matt to have sex with them were old enough to be his dad, uncle or grandfather...It wasn't too often that a younger guy wanted to hire him for an hour's worth of fun. Matt was not gay, but if you had to go down on a guy for money, well the distasteful task could at least be made a bit more pleasant by doing it with someone halfway decent looking. The man walking towards him was attractive. Matt usually liked to wait until a john approached him, but tonight he thought he saw an opportunity to get off the street for the night, and he wanted to take it. So he unbuttoned his jean jacket and stuck his hands in the pockets waiting until the possible trick was close enough to hear him before saying, "All the way down 50 bucks." Matt opened his jacket up, flashing his shirtless torso at the stranger and when he had the man's complete attention, he boldly darted his tongue out of his mouth and ran it over his lips, trying to entice him.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor stopped and looked at the boy. He couldn't believe his ears -- or rather he could -- it was just that he couldn't believe that this poor kid had the bad luck to proposition him. He sighed heavily knowing that he was going to have to arrest this kid.

Maybe that's not such a bad thing considering his profession.

"How much if you go diving?" asked Victor, sad to be bartering with the teenager; unhappier still that he knew all the right words with which to pepper the conversation.

Matt grinned knowingly; he had picked right. "50 bucks to blow, doesn't matter who does who. 75 bucks if you want me to grab my ankles and..." Matt looked up and met Victor's eyes, wanting to see the man's reaction, "100 bucks takes you for a bareback ride."

Desired reaction achieved.

Victor's eyes flew wide open with surprise. He blew out his breath; it wasn't too often that the working trade would offer to fuck without a condom. This kid must be desperate or apathetic. Victor had been halfway intending to identify himself as a cop and send the boy on his way, but now he knew that he just had to get this kid off the streets before the cold, hard reality of life in the urban jungle killed him. Emotionally he figured the streets had more than likely already succeeded in driving out any soft edges the boy might have had.

Victor's swept his eyes up and down the boy then leering lasciviously he reached into the back pocket of his jeans while saying, "I've got enough for a blow job." Instead of pulling out his wallet, Victor pulled the black leather billfold that held his badge. He dropped the fake smile and said, "O.P.P. You're busted, kiddo." Victor readied himself just in case the boy tried to run, and Matt did not disappoint him.

The agile fourteen year old feinted left and then tried to duck to the right but Victor was not easily fooled; he simply reached out one long arm and grabbed the teenager by the collar of his jean jacket before he could get away. "Stand still," he warned the squirming kid. "Hey Noel, get your ass over here, I got one more for the station," he shouted to his partner.

Noel, who had been watching the exchange between the two, heard the shouting through his open window and calmly got out of the idling vehicle. He pulled a zap strap out of his jacket pocket while he walked towards the pair.

"Not enough you busted the last neighbourhood clean, Mansfield? Now you're looking for work?" Noel commented, before turning to Matt and instructing, "Be a good boy and turn around, hands behind your back." Victor could see the fear in the kid's eyes, and he raised his hand to stop Noel, "I don't think we need to cuff him. Do you need to be restrained, kid?" he asked the genuinely frightened boy.

Matt's eyes were wide with fear, but he didn't know what he feared more, the reaction of his pimp Tony for getting pinched by a cop, or the actual arrest. No matter which way he didn't much care for either one of the possible outcomes. He looked at the cop who had nabbed him; he didn't look like he was a mean or bent cop. In fact, to Matt, he looked just a little bit sad about the whole situation.

"No, I won't run," said the teenager wearily, and he meant it.

"All right then, let's get going." Victor changed his grip from the collar of Matt's jacket to his upper arm; he held the boy firmly, but not too tight. The trio walked together to the car and both Victor and Matt climbed into the back seat. Noel pulled away from the curb and started for the station house. "What's your name?" asked Victor gently.

Matt who had been staring out the window passively turned to face the cop, "Matt August. My pimp Tony is going to kick the shit out of me for this." he stated matter of fact, already resigned to his fate.

"No he won't Matt," stated Victor just as flatly.

"Yeah? Well what's to stop him. He's beaten me up before you know, and for a lot less of a reason than this. The last boy of his that got bagged in a raid he beat up so bad that he had to lie on the bed for a week. Poor Dallas -- he couldn't even get up; the rest of us had to help him up just so he could go to the bathroom. And as soon as he could stand Tony had him back working his usual corner, black eyes and all." Matt turned away from the handsome cop and went back to looking out of the window; wondering to himself if this would be the last time he would see these shitty warehouses.

Victor studied the back of Matt's head. "Listen Matt, I can arrange it so Tony never lays a hand on you again."

Matt answered with an emotionless, "yeah right," making it clear to the cop that he neither trusted nor believed a word the man said.

Victor thought that perhaps silence would be best on the trip back to the squad. He leaned back and racked his brain for ideas how he could help this kid.

Noel as per his usual, drove in silence too. Preferring to leave the mother Teresa act up to his partner.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor pushed the black phone on his desk towards Matt, "You've got one phone call, better make it worth your while."

Matt picked up the receiver then put it down again, realising that if he didn't phone Tony then he'd have no one to call at all. The fatigue of the long night, and gravity of the situation finally took its toll on the teenager. Matt cradled in his head in his hands and refusing to look up at Victor, he said through tears, "The only person I CAN call is my pimp." The boy raised his eyes, "Imagine that." Once more his head went down, finally succumbing to the bleakness of his situation.

With out a second's hesitation Victor reached out and ran his hand up and down Matt's back, trying to soothe the trembling boy. He winced slightly when he felt the bony spine of the teenager's pitifully thin body.

Poor kid, he's frightened to death.

Victor was angry; he wasn't exactly sure why, but maybe it was because he thought that this could have been him 10 years ago when he'd had left his family home. To his extreme good luck though, he'd been able to avoid most of the pitfalls of the streets that went hand in hand with surviving alone in the cement city. Apparently Matt had not been so lucky. "Matt, " began Victor gently, "Tell me what's wrong. I promise I'll try to help. No matter what."

The tears subsided and Matt raised his head, blue eyes still glassy and wet, "I can't go to jail, and I can't go home. There's no place for me anywhere except as part of Tony's stable." His lower lip trembled, breaking Victor's heart. "Please, Officer Mansfield, just let me go," Matt pleaded

Victor, no matter how guilty he felt, knew better than to promise Matt his freedom, there was no way legally or morally that he could release a minor on their own recognisance. "What's your mom's number?" He tried. "I'll call her for you, maybe you could go hom..."

Matt shook his head angrily, "No."

"Ok, how about another relative?" suggested Victor. Matt did not answer but only shook his head harder.

"Fuck it," Matt spat angry at the cop. "I'll phone Tony; he's got guardianship over me. He'll come and get me. Tony will tell you he's my uncle and there's no proof to prove that he's not; you'll have to release me to him anyways." Matt reached for the phone again; this time Victor stopped him from picking up the receiver.

Victor, both incredulous and incensed, asked Matt, "How on earth did a kiddie pimp get legal guardianship for you?"

Matt grimaced and looked down at his sneakers. "My mother sold me to him for two grand. She signed the papers stating that he was my uncle and my new guardian; then she split town. I have no fucking idea where she went. My mother is a whore who never wanted me in the first place. I don't even know my father's name; she doesn't even know my father's name. He was just a trick who picked her up one night." Matt swallowed hard, "It's all just shit in the feed trough anyways; it doesn't' matter; I don't matter." Matt turned his glare on Victor, his vivid blue eyes shooting daggers into the stunned cop. "So mind your own fucking business and get your god dammed hand off of the phone so I can call Tony and get this shitty night over with." Matt's emotions had run the gauntlet from fright, to sick and tired, to overflowing with raging anger. All of it was directed towards Victor, his arresting officer.

"Look, Matt!" Victor said a lot more harshly than he had intended too. Taking a deep breath he tried again, "Listen, I'm not going to call Tony and I'm sure as hell not going to let you call him. I'll get a hold of social services and they will take good care of you, I promise." He finished more gently.

Matt "hmphed" disagreeably at the mention of social services, but he didn't object to the idea.

Victor's instincts had been right. He could see that Matt wanted to change the way he had been living, but he was afraid. The cop in Victor thought that what Matt needed now was a good reality check, and that would be all it required to get him pointed in the right direction. At least Victor hoped that was all it would take. He stood up and said quietly, "Come with me." He walked away with Matt following. They went into an empty interrogation room where they could talk in private, without interruption.

Matt sat down, waiting expectantly for the speech he knew was coming.

Victor pulled a chair up and straddled it backwards. Sitting across the table from the frightened teenager, he laid his hands flat on the table top and rested his chin on the back of the chair, clearing his throat as he began, "Look Matt, I don't want you to get hurt, and I know if I charge you and you end up in juvenile hall, well, ..."

He studied the teenager for a second or two, with his fair hair and big blue eyes, the kid had 'target' written all over him. Victor knew he couldn't subject Matt to what would amount to the very same treatment he'd received on the street. Worse even, because in Jr. Hall you were locked in with no escape possible. At least on the streets he could run away.

"I wouldn't do that to you. But if you don't change, you're going to be dead in a couple of years, probably before your seventeenth birthday." Victor understood the harsh reality of the life Matt was living all to well. "And if the drugs don't kill you first, then it will be some freak show who picks you up with nothing but torturing you on his mind. And if it isn't some psycho then you'll most likely catch the virus." Victor didn't have to clarify the word 'virus'. Both knew what he meant by it. "You can only offer to go bare back riding so many times before one of your johns gives you HIV, Matt. And going back with Uncle Tony," Victor spat the name out venomously, "is absolutely out of the question."

Matt didn't, couldn't look at the cop. Instead he cast his gaze towards the table-top and studied the back of the cop's hands.

"I know that in the past any one who has ever tried to help you has had an ulterior motive,"

Matt nodded, but still did not look up.

"But I promise you, that's not the case here. I only want to help you get off the streets; maybe save your life while it's still worth living." Done with his speech, Victor sat up straight. After a moment, Matt spoke in a small, whispery voice, "Why? Why do you want to help me?"

"Because, " answered Vic honestly, "It's my job to help people." He deeply, truly believed that.

Finally, Matt looked up at Victor, a glimmer of hope on his young face. "What would I have to do?"

"Well, I know a really good foster home; the parents there are the best. If you go through a re-hab program" Victor didn't even bother asking Matt whether or not he had a drug habit; it was a given that the teenager did drugs. Illicit substances and illicit sex went together like peanut butter and jelly, "I'm pretty sure the people would agree to take you in. Stay here and rest, I'll go make some calls."

Matt smiled at the green-eyed cop who didn't look more than five or six years older than him, then laid his head down on the table using his arms for a pillow. He was willing to trust another person for the first time in a long, long time.

The smile Matt had given him was all the reward that Victor needed. He shut the door behind himself and went to his desk. Picking up the receiver he dialled the Ministry of Social Services first.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor rolled over and hung his head over the side of the bed in order to look at his partner. "And that's that. After Matt walked out the door with the social worker that morning, I never saw or heard from him again. Of course, I had always hoped that things would turn out okay for the poor kid.

Mac looked through the darkness at Victor, "Aside from the nasty bit of business of landing in jail that is."

"Yeah, well at least he had a chance to experience a healthy way of living first. It's nice to know that for once, I actually made a difference in somebody's life. "

"Jesus Christ Vic, you've made a big difference in mine and LiAnn's life, you know. Don't sell yourself so short." Mac frowned up at his bunkmate, wanting to encourage him.

"Well, Li Ann thinks I'm a cold fish because I didn't go crawling and begging after her when we broke up, which she had no problem doing in the first place, so I imagine I couldn't have been all that important to her. And you..." All the blood was rushing to his head so Victor rolled back over onto his back, flinching from the pain in his shoulder, "You hated me from day one. Boy, that's really making a difference all right." Victor shut his eyes and flopped over so that he was on his stomach again. He realised that there was no way he was going to be able to fall asleep on his back. The scratches were really beginning to throb.

Mac chuckled, "Well that was a long time ago. I was jealous. I've long since changed my mind about you. Besides, you hated me at first sight last year too, you know."

"That's where you're wrong Mac," whispered Victor. "I never hated you, ever. I've always loved you."

Mac stared at the bunk above him, stunned.

Victor has always loved me?

Another few beats of his fluttering heart went by, then on an impulse, Mac kicked back the covers and got out of the warm bed. He stood up next to the top bunk, Victor's face was close to his own and in the dim light he could see that Victor's eyes were open and looking at him. Mac leaned in and kissed Victor softly on the lips. "I love you too," he said quickly before crawling back into his bunk. "Good night Victor." Mac sighed contentedly, Victor's confession coursing through him like an illegal stimulant, making him feel wondrously happy. The elated agent rolled over knowing his dreams tonight were going to be so good.

"See you in the morning Mac." Victor didn't know why he had confessed his most closely guarded secret to Mac, except to say that here in the dark, with just the two of them, he somehow felt safe in saying those four little words. Initially after having told Mac, he'd regretted opening up his big mouth, the long silence had been evidence of that, but then Mac had stood up, kissed him and echoed his sentiments. Everything would be all right. Victor plumped his pillow and settled in, shutting his eyes. For once, instead of thinking of Gant and the rape, he had visions of Mac and himself and all the delicious possibilities of where a relationship between the two of them could lead.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The two men had already eaten breakfast and now were finishing preparations for the rest of their day. Just before Mac had to leave the partners looked into each other's eyes. Their gazes lingered on each other for another few, short seconds, then they both reluctantly turned away. The look was secret, full of yearning and was intended only for each other. Sometime between their gentle kiss of the evening before and this morning, the aura around them had changed. The silence, where it had once been awkward and uncomfortable, was now charged with the secret promise of discovery. Each man was anxious for the day to end so that they could be alone, together in the private sanctuary of their pod where in the dark it would be easier to explore the truths that lay between them.

"See you at dinner," said Mac casually. "Don't forget to get your shoulder checked out today; it looked even more grotesque in the shower this morning." Mac smiled to himself at the memory of Victor, naked in the shower, soaping his body all over.

His tone was light, but Mac was worried about Victor and the infection. He was also anxious, anticipating that tonight he would be able to do more than just give his partner a quick kiss and a single short-lived caress. He wanted to prove to Victor that there was more to making love with a man than violent, brutish sexual intercourse. Mac wanted to show Victor that loving words mixed with gentle touches and soft kisses were the important things.

If he played his cards right then he and Victor just might be able to forge a relationship that would endure, reaching far beyond the confines of the cold cement walls of Kensington Penitentiary and into their real lives on the outside. Mac wanted to maintain a relationship outside of jail, where the circumstances were not as dire as at present. The only way to make a relationship possible was to build up enough trust to last a lifetime, for both of their lives.

Victor smiled, the tiny lines around his eyes crinkling up, "Don't worry, I'll ask Walker to take me to the doctor on my lunch break." Mac made a small face at the mention of Walker, but Victor let it go by. "See you at dinner...Mac.." came the gravely-voiced reply. He reached out and squeezed Mac's hand in his own, then after a moment's hesitation he let go and walked out the door.

Victor too, secretly wished that he and Mac could be more than just working partners to each other. Victor wanted to be partners in life as well, and he was willing to try an make a go of things when they were finished with this mission. He was pretty positive that Mac felt the same way. After last night, their whispered declarations of love had removed all of the barriers...Each man, now on the same, level playing surface. Gant and his violence no longer clouded Victor's mind, now all of his conscious thoughts were of Mac. Just the mere thought of his male partner could make him smile, Mac's faith in him, was enough to free him of his demons.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac stood and watched his partner as he walked away. Mac knew he was grinning like a game show contestant but he couldn't help himself. A small thrill surged through his whole body when Victor looked back over his shoulder and flashed a large smile at him.

Mac looked beyond Victor's retreating back, to the men that his partner worked with and saw that Walker would be supervising Victor's detail, again. In fact the guard was already standing by the service hall waiting to take the inmates to the Library. Curious, the young agent observed the blond guard for a few minutes, and it was enough for him to know that he definitely did not like what was seeing on the face of the stocky man.

The large guard was staring wide-eyed at Victor, obviously mesmerised by the agent. His face went from blank to lit up as soon as he had seen Victor. His hunger for Victor was as plain as the ink in a newspaper.

Mac licked his lips, a frown contorting his natural good looks. Not wanting to be late for his own job, he started to make his way towards the kitchen. Strangely enough, as if picking each other up with radar, both Mac and Walker glared at each other, hard. It was at that very moment that Mac knew that he now had a rival for Victor's affections.

A very dangerous competitor.

Both guard and inmate pulled their menacing scowls away from each other at the same time. A cold chill ran down Mac's spine, and he shivered. He had not missed the raw, naked hunger in the guard's eyes when he had been watching Victor, just as he had not missed the intense, jealous hatred that Walker had glared at him moments later with eyes that were cold and icy blue.

Walker's intentions were so clear that they didn't need to be spoken out loud, and Mac got the message. It was fairly simple: Walker wanted Victor, and no one else was going to have him, end of story. And now Mac would have to be sure to watch not only his back, but Victor's as well.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Smith." The monotone guard said, handing a slip of paper to the inmate.

Victor took the written list of books and read the small piece of paper silently to himself.

Great, all law books and public court records! Looks like I'm up in the attic today.

Victor commandeered a small metal cart that was waist high and on four wheels, knowing full well that the old tomes would be dusty and heavy, and judging by the list, he had quite a few of them to find.

Some one's getting ready to defend themselves.

The former cop knew that the extensive collection of books would be hard to gather, the job would probably take all day since no one had ever bothered to replace the law volumes back to the places in which they had come from.

Victor just hoped that they found out how Carter had gone missing, and who had helped him to meet with a premature death in the Northern woods, before he was assigned the unenviable job of putting all those books back in order. He pushed his cart into the small service elevator and pulled down the grating that reminded Victor very much of bars on a cell. He pushed the grating up and stepped off the elevator, careful to replace the heavy metal grid, just in case someone needed to call it back down although that was unlikely. With two of the guys on the detail still in the infirmary from the weekends' homemade moonshine binge, there were only 3 inmates actually working today. Victor upstairs, another inmate filling the fiction and non- fiction reading lists from the library down stairs, and another man working on the computer the way Victor had the week before.

The elevator whined; Victor turned around and watched the dilapidated lift slowly descend to the first floor. Now he really was alone, there was no need to call the elevator back until it was his lunchtime. That wouldn't be for another couple of hours. Victor looked at the emergency exit and smiled at the irony, knowing that it was locked. If a fire were to break out, there would be no way for him to get out if the elevator failed to work.

He spun around slowly, looking all around him at the floor to ceiling shelves that were packed, cheek by jowl, full of large, leather-bound editions.

Maybe if I had access to some of these books I might have been able to defend myself better at the police review board, lamented Victor. Oh well, no use crying over spilled milk.

The former cop shrugged his shoulders, at the melancholy thought.

There really was no point in wondering about the 'what ifs' any more. He looked up at the dim, overhead lighting, wishing that there were a window in the place to add some light, but unfortunately all he had was only a few mesh-covered bulbs to light his way.

There were thousands of books in the attic, and Victor figured he had better get started on the sizeable list he had been given. Pulling the cart behind himself, Victor walked down the nearest row and he began searching for the first book written on his list. Every time he reached up high or had to stretch out his arm, Victor was reminded all over again, that he still had to get to the infirmary. He could have gone first thing in the morning, but he'd thought that there was a slight chance he could get on the computer again. There were a few more things he wanted to look for. Instead, he had been assigned upstairs, so he decided to go with the original plan and have Walker to take him after lunch.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor, the naive fool that he was, had no idea how Walker felt about him. When Walker put his hands on him, Victor had naturally just assumed that it was all about head games and control issues, and that even the severe beating that Walker had laid on him was about control. Walker, much to his chagrin, found himself drawn to the handsome agent. Every day his feelings became stronger and Walker was at a loss to explain it; he had always liked women before, so why Victor had such a large impact on him was not only puzzling but frustrating as well.

Every time he looked into those big green eyes, he fell deeper under the older man's innocent and unwitting spell; every time he saw Mac, who always seemed to be watching Victor too, Walker felt another twinge of envy. He didn't like the way the tall man made him feel which was oaf-like and stupid. To gain Victor's confidence and trust would be a genuine triumph; turning him against his partner would be harder, but Walker was certain that it could be done. It was only a matter of time. Walker pulled his keys and unlocked the emergency exit door, ascending the stairs that led to the attic library. He knew full well that Victor was working alone up there. Walker was the one who had arranged the assignment. If was going to succeed in winning over the agent's affections, he needed to be alone with him.

Victor was right about one thing, Walker, was all about head games. It was what he did best.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Ugh" groaned Victor as he reached down to retrieve the book he had dropped. His shoulder was getting worse, and he was having a hard time using it now. Each time he had to flex his shoulder muscle or stretch for a book, a lightning bolt of pain shot through the large muscle. His forehead felt hot to the touch and when he bent over his head swam with dizziness.

"What's the matter Victor? Are you hurt?" Walker was standing at the end of the isle, watching the older man try to rub some relief into his clavicle.

Startled, Victor snapped his head around quickly -- too quickly, because the motion made him lose his balance and he had to grab the bookshelf to keep himself upright. Now Victor knew that there was something definitely wrong. He hadn't even heard Walker approach him. On a normal day, that would not have been possible.

Walker saw Victor wobble, and he rushed over to him. Reaching out, he grabbed Victor under the armpits. "What's the matter?" he asked again, propping the disoriented man up. Walker thought that Victor looked pale, much more so than when he had first come into Kensington.

"I..uhmm...I'm dizzy." Said Victor, "I think I've got a fever."

Walker ran his right hand gently up Victor's back and then cradled his neck carefully, like he was holding a new-born baby's untried neck in the palm of his hand. With his right, Walker touched his wrist to Victor's forehead, just the way his mother used to do to him, and attempted to determine from the warmth whether or not Victor did indeed have a temperature.

Walker leaned down and looked into Victor's eyes, all pupil and very little green. Yep they're dilated and glassy all right. The guard could feel the considerable heat of the man. He was sure that his body temperature was elevated by several degrees.

"How come you're so hot? Do you have the flu?" Walker was concerned, but not too concerned. The older man was fairly healthy after all; it was probably just some minor bug. He took advantage of Victor's slightly confused state to further his own, private agenda. "Listen Vic, I'll take you to the infirmary, but first I need to talk to you. Privately. That's why I came up here." Walker smiled down at the patient, his hand unconsciously stroking the back of Victor's head; the short brown hair felt silky to the touch.

"What? No, it's not the flu. I've got some infected scratches. That's what making me feel so shitty. What did you want to talk to me about?" Victor could feel the hand stroking through his hair and he wanted to tell Walker to stop it, but he could only concentrate on one thing at a time. Right now that one thing was listening to whatever it was Walker wanted to say to him. Walker smiled and licked his lips, here was the chance to get inside Victor's armour, show the agent that he wasn't such a bad guy. "Yesterday I saw you talking to another inmate, Matt Vandenburg." Walker pulled his hand away from Victor's head at last as Vic nodded yes. He placed both his hands to either side of Victor and moved in close. He talked in hushed, conspiratorial tones, "Last night after the rec time was over..."

Vic interrupted the guard, "Is he all right? Did Eddie hurt him?" He was worried for the young man, so worried that he didn't even realise at first how close Walker was standing to him, the fever clouded his perception slightly.

Walker raised a hand and gently cupped Victor's face before dropping it back to where it had been, "That's what I was going tell you. After rec. time last night, Vandenburg was found unconscious in the showers. He was beaten badly..."

"Is he dead?" whispered the sick agent. Guilt flooded through him, making him feel as though it was his fault that Matt had been hurt. "Did that fat bastard Eddie do it?" Angry now.

"He's alive, Victor." Walker leaned in even closer, "Matt will be okay, he just needs time to recoup. The thing is, Matt won't rat on Eddie , so there's no proof that Eddie did it, but I'm positive he's the one. No one would dare lay a hand.., " At this point, he started to stroke Victor's cheek softly with the backs of his fingers. "...On Vandenburg without Eddie's permission. And in case you didn't know, he's the type to do the beating himself. His wife would testify to that, if she weren't already dead."

Victor blinked his eyes, his thoughts became little bit clearer. At that moment he was very much aware of how close Walker was standing to him; he felt the guard's soft caresses but as much as he wanted to tell Walker to get his hands off of him, he refrained. Victor had made enough enemies in Kensington; he didn't want to add another one, besides he already had Walker figured out. The man was pushing his buttons, trying to see if he could get him to freak out, maybe get him in the hole so he could kick the shit out of him again. He couldn't risk leaving Mac alone with out back up, especially with four pissed-off convicts gunning for him. No way was Victor going to play into the guard's hand and indulge the man and his games. Victor knew now that he had the stamina to persevere through all of Walker's harassment; Mac's faith in him would see him through.

Victor swallowed down his uneasiness at the shorter man's closeness and said, "Thanks for letting me know. You're ok,..." unable to resist he threw in, "...for a guy who beat the shit out of me my first hour inside." Victor grimaced slightly, but he did not back down or flinch away from Walker's close proximity.

"I'll take you to see Matt if you like." Walker offered, hoping that he was on his way to earning Victor's forgiveness for roughing him up so badly.

Victor looked away from Walker's probing eyes, afraid to let the guard see too deeply into them. Mac had once told him that his true feelings, his real thoughts, always showed in his eyes. He could not risk Walker discovering deception in them. As Walker had stood there, subtly coming on to him, Victor had an idea. He figured if he could convince Walker that he was receptive to his advances, then maybe he could find out which guards were in on the disappearances. Both Victor and Mac knew that at least two of the guards had to be in on the deaths of the inmates -- one, probably while on duty, to remove the prisoner from his cell and an accomplice to take the inmate to the woods -- but the reasons why they were taken to the woods and why they were actually murdered were still a mystery. Maybe by ingratiating himself into Walkers confidence, he might answer one or even all of those questions. That was Victor's fever influenced plan.

Victor raised his hand to his forehead; even he could feel the heat radiating from himself. He really did feel sick; it was time to see the doctor. He looked back up, "Promise me I can speak to Matt?" He asked.

Walker, once again, took Victor's temperature, this time using the back of his hand to gauge the fever. He spoke softly, "I promise."

"Ok, let's go then. I don't feel so good." Victor wasn't afraid of Walker finding deception in that statement. It was wholly true.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor lay back on the small hospital bed and watched the clear liquid that came out of the IV bag drip, rhythmically, into the clear plastic tubing. He was half way through a two-hour transfusion of high dose antibiotics, and a solution of saline mixed with glucose. Gant's fingernails had obviously been really dirty. The doctor questioned Victor as to how, exactly, he had got the scratches but Victor only mumbled that it was another inmate and left it at that. If the doctor knew how they were come by, he didn't say it. Victor figured the doctor should be able to put two and two together without his help anyway.

When the efficient doctor had finished with his examination, he drew some blood from Victor so he could test it for disease, explaining in detail as he did so about how nasty the human bite and scratch could be. Then the kindly physician had Victor roll over and pull down his pants so he could give him a strong shot of antibiotics in the ass. After having done that he adeptly hooked Victor up to the IV drip and injected more of the strong medicine into the liquid. It occurred to Victor, at some point, that the doctor had probably been through this procedure, for just the same reasons, many times before.

"Two hours then you're out of here and back to your pod. I'll tell the guard that you're excused from work for the rest of the day." He pressed a small bottle of pills into Victor's hand instructing, "Take one of these four times a day until the entire prescription is gone. Take them after you eat or you'll feel nauseous." Then switching gears he said, "Walker cleared you to talk to Matt Vee. Wait until I'm done dealing with him then, if he's awake you can see him." The doctor signed a piece of paper that was clipped to his board and walked away.

Forty-five minutes later, the doctor finally pulled back the curtain that was ringed around Matthew's bed. What he had been doing and why it had taken him so long, Victor hadn't a clue. The doctor looked up briefly and saw that Victor was staring at him expectantly. He nodded to Victor and then went over to his desk.

Victor stood up, dragging his cumbersome IV pole and himself over to where Matt's bed was. Matt appeared to be sleeping, so Victor stood at his bedside, and silently swore under his breath at the abuse Eddie had inflicted on the young man. He shook his head sadly at the damage; the only evidence he could actually see was on Matt's young face and neck, but Victor knew that there was more evidence of the beating, it was just hidden beneath the white sheets that covered the former teenage hustler.

Matt's left eye was swollen shut and his right eye was puffed up severely too. There was a cluster of purple bruises that ringed Matt's frail neck, and his lips looked like he had had an allergic reaction to a bee sting; both were puffed up to double their size.

Poor Matt. His face was virtually swollen from forehead to chin.

broke his nose, the bastard!

Victor didn't' even know if Matt would be able to open his eyes at all. Victor felt so very bad for the young father; the poor kid had been to hell and back. All he had wanted to do was put in his remaining year and then get the hell out of Kensington and back to his wife and child and some semblance of a normal life.

He deserves to be happy, god dammit!

Victor reached out and gently squeezed Matt's cold hand, noting that the knuckles were lightly scraped and slightly puffy.

So he tried to fight back.

Angry at the smaller man's victimisation, Victor swore to himself that Eddie would pay for his transgressions and invasions against his young friend.

Matt had heard someone approach his bed, but he couldn't be bothered to make the effort to actually open up his eyes, or rather, his only working eye. When he felt the hand touch his own and squeeze lightly, his one good eye flew open as far as it would go.

He was relieved when he saw that it was Victor who stood over him, glad that his one real friend had managed to come and see him. "What a mess eh?" he whispered softly.

Victor set his lips in a grim line. Matt could only open up one eye and that might even have been over stating things. The white of Matt's eye was blood red, caused by the vessels bursting upon the impact with Eddie's large fist. Victor again swore under his breath before reigning in his wrath.

"Yeah, well, hell of a way to get a few days off of work," Victor joked lightly. "By the looks of you, I would say you're pretty messed up. What does the doctor say?" Victor pointed his free hand back towards where the man was sitting at his desk. "What happened, Matt? Are you OK?"

Matt squeezed Victor's fingers; "I'll live. But I'm going to be in here," -- meaning the infirmary -- "A long time. I've got some broken ribs, two bruised kidneys and three cracked vertebrae." Matt tried to sound like it didn't matter, and that his injuries were nothing more that mere nuisances.

Victor narrowed his eyes, "Tell the truth Matt. That asshole Big Eddie do this to you?"

"Yes." Came the hoarse reply. Matt wondered why he couldn't lie to the cop.

"How come you won't turn him in?" asked Victor.

"Look..." Matt spoke softly, trying to focus his one eye on Victor, "If I squeal him out, then he does a month in the hole and comes out more pissed off then when he went in. Then he'll be sure to finish the job and kill me." Matt grimaced, "There's plenty of other guys in this place he can fuck, you know? It's not like he's that attached to me." Matt tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a cough. He looked up at the ceiling, "If I ask for protective custody then I'll end up doing the rest of my stretch, alone in solitary. I don't think I can hack that. If I keep my mouth shut, then maybe Gant will send me to A block instead. I think he'll agree to that. Everybody knows Eddie stomped me. I just don't want to make trouble so close to the end of my sentence." A single tear rolled out of the corner of Matt's lone, good eye. "I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, Victor. My wife and daughter are this close," Matt raised his right hand and pinched his thumb and index finger together, "I can't fuck that up. No matter what." He stifled a yawn. "Don't worry about me, Victor. I'll be okay. You'll see." Matt patted Victor's hand gently, "I'm sorry, I'm really tired; I can't keep my eyes open. It's the drugs they're giving me for the pain. I'll talk to you later." Matt shut his eye and turned his head to the side.

Victor looked down at the battered body of the man he once knew as a boy, and vowed silently that Eddie would not get away with hurting Matt. Victor petted back the hair on Matt's brow then turned around and slowly walked back to his own small bed. Dragging the pole behind him, Victor saw that the anti- biotics were almost done dripping through. He lay back down and began to formulate a plan. He didn't even realise that he'd fallen asleep until the buzzer beeped on his IV tree, waking him up. The doctor came over and unhooked the line, then sent Victor to the exit doors, where Walker was already waiting for him. Victor assumed that the guard had been called while he dozed. The catnap had been well worth it, for when he woke up, the agent knew exactly what he was going to do to help Matt out and how. Best of all, when it was Eddie's turn for payback, Victor was going to pay the big inmate back twofold for the beating he had laid on Matt. Victor would see to that.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Walker escorted Victor back to his pod, and just as he was about to walk out the door, Victor called him back, by saying softly, "Walker."

The guard let go of the door handle and turned around to face Victor, surprised by the soft, husky tone of the other man's voice. "Yes." He walked over to where Victor was standing at the end of the bunks, concealed by the beds from outsiders looking in.

Victor swallowed and, smiling up at the guard he batted his eyes lashes, subtly, as if he were blinking away a loose eyelash. "Do you really regret knocking me around that first day?"

"Yes. I do." His hopes were up now.

"Well I know away you can make it up to me?" He raised his hand and pushed his bangs away from his forehead; well aware of the effect he was having on the younger man.

Walker frowned for a split second, but his eyes remained solely on Victor. He desperately wanted to win the man over so he said, "How?"

Reaching out, Victor pretended to pick a stray piece of lint off the guard's navy blue uniform. "We both know Big Eddie beat the shit out of Matt, but there's no way he's going to rat him out. I think he's suffered enough, is there anyway you can get him transferred to A block when he gets out of the infirmary?" Victor stepped closer to Walker. He had successfully turned the tables on Walker, and now he was the aggressor instead of the other way around.

Unaware that it was he getting caught up in Victor's web, Walker's features softened at the sight of the slightly older man.

Who would it hurt if I pulled a few strings? After all I do want to get inside his confidence.

"For you? Sure, I think I can arrange that."

Victor smiled brightly and showed his teeth to the slightly unnerved guard, Victor could tell that his closeness was turning the man on; he wanted to keep him off balance, so he leaned in and kissed Walker gently on the lips. He let his kiss linger over the shocked guard's lips for a few seconds, then pulled back.

"Thanks, I appreciate that. I'd better get to bed. The drugs have left me wiped right out." He kept on smiling at the blonde.

Walker back away from Victor, embarrassed over the fledgling erection that he had. Flustered, he cleared his throat, "Ok, well I'll let you know about the transfer. See you tomorrow." Then he spun around and quickly left the pod.

As soon as Walker's back was turned to him Victor's smile turned into a scowl. He went over to the small sink and took a sip of water, wanting to rinse the man's warm, dry lips away from his memory. In the attic, Victor had thought, for just a split second, that there just might be more to Walker and his head games than he realised. Now Victor had proven to himself with that kiss that there was. Walker's very apparent erection had not gone unnoticed. Now Victor knew for sure that the young guard liked him, and that his lust could be turned around and used to his and Mac's advantage. Now it was Walker's turn to be manipulated and controlled. Victor would have absolutely no qualms about doing just that.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"YOU WHAT?" shouted Mac, exasperated with his bunkmate's latest revelations.

"I said," started Victor calmly, "That after I kissed Walker-that asshole-I knew I had him eating out of the palm of my hand. Walker thinks that he's going to pull me into his confidence by giving me a false sense of security, but I'm on to his game, I know what he's up to. Fortunately those years in vice taught me how to act." Victor patted the top of Mac's bunk. Indicating that his partner should sit back down in the spot that he had vacated when he jumped up shouting 'you what?'

Victor picked up one of the toppled chess pieces and squeezed it in his fist, "Come on, sit down and relax. Let me finish telling you what I was going to say."

Mac frowned at Victor as he settled himself back down on his bunk, but the ex-cop didn't notice the look, he was busy standing up and re-arranging the men on the chessboard that Mac had knocked over.

"I don't get it." Mac spoke to the top of Victor's bent head. "I thought you were having problems forgetting about Gant and Walker. Why would you deliberately put yourself in their path again? I told you before; I don't trust Walker. Now we know that he wants you all to himself." Mac grimaced at the thought of Walker trying to 'romance' Victor. "I don't know what he's up too, but it can't be in your best interests to get inv...involved with him." Mac could barely spit the word out. He was uneasy with worry for Victor's safety. Even beyond the personal safety issues, there was something more. He was jealous. The two of them had just begun exploring each other, and the possibilities of a relationship. He resented Walker sticking himself in between the two of them. Mac silently vowed that Walker would not interfere with them.

Ever.

Victor looked up when Mac started speaking to him. He smiled indulgently and then leaned back so that his back was resting against the metal rail at the end of the lower bunk. "Look, I don't think I'll ever forget what happened to me in this place. All I want to do is find the guilty party and get the hell out of here, as fast as I can. I'll do what I have to do to get us out of here, and if that means telling Walker what he wants to hear then so be it." Victor noted the sour look on his partner's face. "I can use Walker to get inside Gant's office, and once I'm there I will be able to gain access to files that I can't get to working in the Library. I think Gant's in on the disappearances; he has to be -- him and those four Musketeer idiots but why did Gant make those men disappear. That's the question." Victor sat up straighter and pushed his shoulders and elbows back, trying rid himself of the knot that had formed between his shoulder blades.

"Yeah," Mac said, "But why do you have to get mixed with Walker? I don't get it, especially after what he did to you." He tried not to sound like he was whining.

"He's jealous of you, you know." stated Victor bluntly. "He thinks were a couple and he doesn't like it."

Mac's head snapped up, remembering the vicious look that Walker had given him a few days before, Mac agreed with what his partner was saying, "Yeah, the other day he looked at me, and if looks could kill then I would have been dead three times over."

Victor patted Mac's knee and then went back to trying to work out the knot. "Don't worry Mac, I know what I'm doing. Walker is the key to getting into Gant's office, and using him is quickest way to get out of this dump. Trust me," he smiled to his partner. "Once were out, we'll see about making a go of 'us'. Now help me get rid of this knot or I'll never get to sleep tonight." Victor sat up tall and pulled off his T-shirt.

Mac stood up so Victor could lie down on his stomach on the lower bunk. He climbed on top of Victor and straddled him over his well-rounded ass. He ran the palms of his hands up Victor's muscular back, and when he found the sore spot he gently dug his thumbs in, trying to loosen it.

Victor groaned his appreciation for the massage. "Mmm. God, that feels great, Mac. You're going to have to do this to me when we get out, when I can lie on a real massage table."

Eyes transfixed on the puffy scratches Mac asked, "How did the doctor visit go? You told me about Matt and Walker, but what did the doc say?"

Somewhere between a groan and a moan, Victor answered, "Oh it's a nasty infection all right, but don't worry. Between the IV antibiotics today and taking pills for the next week, it should clear up without problems. "Mmm. It already feels better."

As Mac's hands gently worked the smooth flesh of his partner's back, the younger man leant over and gently kissed the unmarred shoulder, "That ok?" he asked immediately after, not wanting to push the older man farther than he was willing to go, "Can I kiss you again?" Even though Victor was a professional and he might well be able to hold it together long enough to get what wanted out of Walker; by doing whatever the guard wanted, Mac needed everything between them to be completely mutual. Totally consenting.

Victor wiggled his hips, and when Mac lifted himself up a few inches, he rolled over so that he was now lying on his back. He looked up into Mac's eyes, "Kiss me," he said softly.

Mac leant over and pressed his lips to Victor's. He stuck his tongue out and gently parted the soft, full lips. Shifting his position, Mac went from sitting on top of him, to stretching out as he lay beside Victor. He laid his left leg over both of Victor's possessively and leaned in again, kissing his partner just as gently as he had the first time.

Victor responded to the soft probing and opened up his mouth, meeting Mac's tongue with his own. He moaned softly and arched his back, desperately wanting Mac to touch him although he was afraid to say it. His body, yearning for real affection, did the petitioning for him.

Mac smiled into the agent's mouth and using his left hand he caressed the heated flesh of Victor's well- defined torso. Stopping at the vibrating man's left nipple, Mac pulled his mouth away from Victor's -- he let out another small moan -- and licked his way over to Vic's neck and chest. Mac's tongue found what he had been seeking -- the nipple. The nub in the centre was as hard as a pebble and Mac laved first one and then the other, slowly coaxing out further arousal from his partner. He could tell by the way Victor was mumbling softly and undulating slowly that he was succeeding.

Mac shifted so that he was between Victor's slightly parted legs, then he sat up on his knees and removed his own T-shirt. Mac lay back down directly on top of his partner and took a few seconds to enjoy the skin-to-skin contact before he began to trail small, dry kisses down Victor's chest.

Victor murmured in appreciation and resumed his undulations.

Once Mac had reached his partner's groin, he grinned again at the hardness he felt there. Confident that this was what Victor wanted, Mac undid the button and zipper of the pants and slowly parted the material. He looked up and saw that Victor no longer had his eyes closed, but was looking down at him, an indefinable look across his face. Mac wetted his lips, "Is this okay?" He asked.

"Yes." came the husky reply.

Mac reached his hands underneath Victor and grabbed the waistband of his pants, pulling them down gently and bringing his underwear with them. Pushing them off the bed once they were removed. Mac took a second to undo and discard his own cumbersome pants. Now both men were naked, the cool air licking over their superheated, sensitive skin. Mac positioned himself between Victor's legs once again and kissed his abdomen. "You're sure this is all right?" He asked one last time.

Victor smiled seductively and ran his hand over Mac's sweaty forehead, pushing his bangs away, letting the air cool his brow, "I'm sure." He pulled his hand away and ran his fingertips over Mac's shoulders; his other hand joined in and brushed the well-muscled shoulder, gently pushing Mac back down.

Confident that Victor was definitely not in any distress over the sexual situation that he was in, Mac complied with his partners silent wishes and bent his head back to what he'd been doing. First he peppered the taut flesh with more kisses, then stuck out the tip of his tongue and drew it over the very centre of Victor's erection from testicle to tip. Mac took care to press harder when his tongue rode over the very erogenous tiny button at the base of the head.

Victor moaned again, this time louder and more intelligible, "Oh god yeah Mac.."

Encouraged, Mac licked up the hard length a few more times before he finally gave into Victor's pleadings and swallowed the man whole. He stopped for a few seconds to gather his breath, then he began to draw his lips up slowly. Gently Mac nipped and nibbled going down and sucked with just the right amount of pressure when pulling up. He reached down and cupped Victor's tight testicles. Squeezing them softly, he drew his mouth up once again. By alternately using suction, teeth and constriction, Mac worked Victor towards a body-tingling peak, and with a final flick of his tongue into the weeping slit Mac brought him over the edge of that peak.

Victor's legs stiffened as his body released his seed.

Mac diligently swallowed all of the sweet liquid.

Victor rubbed his fingers through Mac's thick brown hair, then when he felt the oversensitivity set in, he pulled Mac up and kissed him. Victor could taste himself on Mac's breath, and he found that he was not put off at all, although maybe he should have been. "Thanks Mac. I needed that. I can't..." Victor did quite know what else to say, so he wrapped his arms around Mac and kissed him again. It was at that point that he felt Mac's hard-on, and he knew then what he wanted to do for Mac. The act would finally break the chains that held him bonded with bad memories to a twisted prison guard.

"My pleasure partner." Mac replied. He felt Victor's large hand grip his hard cock, and all conscious thought disappeared right out of his head. "Mmmm, that feels good," Mac purred at Victor's ministrations. He opened up his eyes and saw Victor was looking at him again, "You don't have to this you know. Only if you want too."

Mac noted the devilish gleam in Victor's eye when his bunkmate responded with a cheeky, "My pleasure," and it was. Victor clenched his fist tighter and went back to kissing Mac. Within a matter of seconds he had Mac crying out his name on the crest of an orgasm.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Walker." Victor called out the guard's name and approached him from behind. "Can I talk to you?" He made a show of turning and looking around the library. "Not here. Upstairs in the attic."

Walker smiled at his favourite prisoner, "Sure." he said. He pushed up the elevator grating and waited for Victor to enter the small cubicle first.

Once upstairs, Victor swallowed down his revulsion for Walker and the situation he was now in, beginning to spin his web of deceit by saying, "Seeing as you and I are on an uhmm....different level with each other than everyone else.." Victor intentionally waffled his words. He was very carefully weaving the intricate threads in which to ensnare Walker. He was drawing upon his experiences from his days as a vice cop to aid him in the complex game of lies and deception. He was perfectly willing to tell those lies, as well as demonstrate them to Walker, if the need be. "I wanted to ask a couple of favours from you. Can I do that?" He moved in close to the guard and subtly batted his eyelashes up at the larger man.

Walker inhaled Victor's clean shampoo, soap scent. The freshness of the handsome man standing so close to him was heady. The mere presence of Victor was like an aphrodisiac to the younger guard. "I don't know if I can do them for you, but you can ask. What is it?"

At that point, Walker wholly believed that Victor was being sincere with him. He was so captivated by Victor that he saw what he wanted to see from the demure inmate, and that was mutual infatuation. His brain didn't even bother to remind him that it had been he who had beaten and trussed Victor up, serving him to the cruel Gant like a Thanksgiving Day turkey.

Victor stepped back a pace and licked his lips, "Well the first one is simple. I want to know what Big Eddie's rec routine is like." He kept looking directly at Walker, "I want to know when he exercises, when showers, when he takes a crap...Whatever." Victor looked down, making a show of submissiveness.

Walker cleared his throat and smiled to himself.

Ahh, so Victor wants to exact a little revenge on Big Eddie for his friend. He's a little bit of a bad boy after all. I thought so.

Walker figured anything that Big Eddie got, he deserved, but he couldn't let on to Victor that he didn't give a shit about the abusive inmate or what happened to him, so he said, "Why do you want to know? You going to shank him in the showers? I can't be responsible for shit like that."

Victor looked up, his passive face remained open and honest as he lied, "No. I'm not going to shank him. I just want to talk to him about Matt. I won't kill him...I promise." Victor wasn't lying -- about the shanking part anyway. He ran his fingers through his hair, and as Walker filled him in on Big Eddie's comings and goings, he reached up and behind himself, stretching. His untucked T-shirt raised just enough to give Walker a tantalising peek at his firm, white stomach and perfectly rounded navel. Victor knew he had Walker when the guard stopped speaking mid-word. The former vice cop stopped with his mock stretch and saw that the guard was staring at his abdomen, mouth slightly open. Victor cleared his throat and Walker came out of his trance enough to finish with what he was saying.

The guard backed up a few steps and sat on the corner of an old desk, putting his hands in his lap he covered up the semi-erection that he was now sporting.

Victor smiled knowingly down at the floor, he knew that his plan to intentionally turn the guard on was working. He brought his gaze back up to meet Walker's light blue eyes. "There's one more little teeny, tiny thing." Victor said as he squeezed his thumb and forefinger together as if to show how small a thing it really was.

"What's that?" Walker asked knowing full well that he would probably grant Victor anything he asked.

The agent could tell by the look in Walker's eyes alone that he would have no problem in getting what he wanted next. However, Victor thought that he had better sugar the package a little bit more, just to be on the safe side so he closed the gap between himself and the seated man and came to a standstill directly in front of Walker, in-between his large, tree-trunk legs. Sex and its appeal was power. Right now it was Victor who held all the power. He virtually controlled Walker. He knew exactly how his closeness was affecting the other man, but Victor could not make himself feel in the least sorry for the guard. Walker's feelings for him meant nothing to Victor. The guard had after all, left him at the mercy of a sexual sadist, knowing full well what would happen to him. He deserved everything that he got. If Walker was stupid enough to believe that Victor actually liked him, then that was his own silly mistake and no one else's. Putting Walker and his feelings aside, Victor asked him, "I need to get into Gant's office. Do you think you can take me there?" He intentionally made his voice low.

Walker's tongue darted out of his mouth as he watched Victor, who was a mere inch or two away from him. He answered, "I....think I can arrange that. Give me a day or two, I'll let you know." Once again, he breathed in Victor's scent deeply.

Victor looked left and then right before he leaned in and kissed Walker, rubbing his lips across the guard's. In a carefully calculated move he leaned back and asked, "That ok I did that?" he asked softly, reverting to a passive stance.

Barely able to find his breath, Walker replied, "Yes." Then he completely surprised Victor by reaching out and grabbing his hips. Walker pulled Victor in close and began to kiss him.

Victor stiffened for a split second, then allowed himself to be pulled in close. He even permitted Walker to force a questing tongue into his mouth. Victor quashed his distaste at first, but then after a few seconds he was unable to stand it any longer and he pulled away. He stepped back and forced himself to control the impulse in him that was telling him to 'run'. Instead he smiled shyly and said, "I should get to work. I have a lot to do."

Walker stood up, as if he just realised exactly where the two of them were. He was totally alert to the fact that he now had a full-blown erection, but there was nothing he could do about it...yet. "You're right. I'll let you know about Gant's office." Walker reluctantly stepped into the elevator wishing that he didn't have to leave Victor, whom he now thought of as his lover.

Respected prison guard or not, Victor had no idea just how volatile and unstable a person Walker was.

Walker seemed normal enough on the outside. But on the inside, he had some mental problems that no one was aware of -- not even the psychiatrist who had given him the examination before he could get a job in Kensington. Walker could go along for months and months without having any problems, but then something would snap, and he would get an idea or a thought in his head and he wouldn't be able to let it go. This time the thought had worked itself into infatuation. He was hot for Victor, and it was rapidly turning into an obsession.

Over the last few days, Walker's every waking thought had been of Victor. He was becoming consumed by the older, green-eyed man. Walker wanted the man badly, no matter what the cost. For now, he would allow Victor put him off the way he had done today when they were kissing; he was willing to take no for an answer for the time being, but soon, things would have to be done his way, which meant that he would assume control and take over Victor totally. Mind, body and soul.

Victor Mansfield had become Walkers fantasy.

The guard was slipping into a dark and dangerous cycle of mental illness, and no one, not even Walker himself could stop it.

Victor watched as Walker descended in the elevator, and as soon as the guard was out of his sight he ran the back of his hand over his lips as if that was enough to wipe the bad taste of the man out of his mouth. He watched, disgusted that he had been kissing Walker. Personally he found that dealing with the guard on a sexual plane extremely repugnant, however, if it got him into Gant's office, then the end results justified the means.

Besides, now at least I know where to find Big Eddie' and when.

Victor thought that several unsavoury kisses were worth what he had found out. He had faith that Mac would be able erase the awful memories of his time spent with Walker with one simple kiss. He had no intentions, however, of telling his partner that he had asked about Big Eddie and his routine. He didn't want to drag his partner into the fray, just in case something backfired on him. Victor put Mac's safety above his own. Changing gears, he started to remember what he and Mac had done together the night before in their cell. Victor could still feel Mac's sensuous lips wrapped around his cock. The memories of he and Mac in bed the night before caused his cock to harden. Victor smiled unconsciously when he pictured his partner, whom he rather romantically thought of as his knight in shining armour. Victor turned his back to the elevator and started in on his list of books to find.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"What time is it?" Victor asked Mac.

Mac, standing at the sink shaving, turned his head and looked at the clock in the centre of the block. "It's 7:00. Lock down in an hour." Mac turned back to the small mirror and pulled the blade down over his five o'clock shadow, cursing silently because he didn't have Victor's good genes, the ones that prevented him from growing a beard every 8 hours.

Victor jumped and grabbed his towel.

"Where are you going?" Mac asked, looking into the mirror at his partner.

Sniffing dramatically at his armpit he said, "I stink from working in the attic. I'm going to go catch a shower before lock down." He walked over to his stuff and started rummaging through his clothes pretending to be searching for underwear.

"Hang on and I'll go with you." Mac used his facecloth to wipe away the left over foam.

Victor grabbed one white tube sock and balled it up, stuffing it into the centre of the rolled up towel, he looked back at Mac over his shoulder and said, "Nah.. Don't worry about it. I'll only be a minute. Most of the dangerous crew has cleared out by now, and I can handle anyone else who looks at me sideways. Or don't you think I can look after myself?" challenged Victor. Grabbing his can of shaving cream he shoved that into the towel too.

Mac held up his hands, "Ok, ok. Go on. I'll set up the chess board." Mac wiggled his eyebrows. Knowing full well that the only game playing they would be doing would be under the sheets.

Victor picked up his soap and walked over to Mac. He plunged his tongue into Mac's ear and whispered, "I'll be sure to be extra careful when I wash down below." Then with a quick peck to the cheek he opened the door and left.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

A few minutes after Victor had gone, Mac could hear cat calls and wolf whistles echoing loudly throughout the block. He thought that maybe a new guy had come in to the block late. A few seconds after thinking that, his pod door opened and in strode the Director, totally unfazed by all of the lewd comments. In fact, Mac thought that she was glowing. The guard named Wang shut the door behind her and stood on the outside, watching over the lone woman in the place. Wang wondered idly how Mac Jones managed to rate a personal, after hours visit from his lawyer.

"Mac," purred the Director, "how are things progressing?" She looked around the small room.

"You came all the way here at this time of night to ask me how the case is progressing?" Mac couldn't believe it. There had to be another reason the Director would risk his and Victor's cover by coming to the prison and showing herself. Of course, it could just as easily be some fantasy of hers too. With the Director, one could never tell.

The Director whirled around and spoke harshly to Mac. "I came here personally to see how the case is going because LiAnn reported in and said that she only saw you once and Victor missed both of his scheduled appointments. How's she supposed to keep me informed when the agents under her don't report in? You'll just have to tell me what's going on." The Director was angry even though she was controlling her voice.

Mac gave the Director a half smile and gulped, "Well, things have been a little crazy lately. In case you hadn't noticed, we are in prison. I had no idea that Vic missed his appointments with LiAnn. He didn't mention them to me at all." Mac was beginning to squirm under the Director's scrutiny.

"Why did Victor miss them?" She asked almost too casually.

Mac stared at his boss wide-eyed, unsure, just like he had been with LiAnn, of just how much she knew about Victor and the assault. He decided to give her an un-detailed account of why he might have missed the appointments. "Well, he hasn't been feeling that great, he's got a nasty infection, I guess he was in the infirmary getting checked out or maybe he was working. I don't know why. Ask him yourself."

"You ask him." She flared hotly, then just as quickly calmed down. "What's wrong with him? Is he still suffering from the after effects of his..." She fished for the right words, "...beating?"

"Yeah, something like that" Mac mumbled, then he changed the subject. "But why are you here? I don't get it."

Bored with the tiny cell and its contents, the Director started to pace, "Our informant tells us that he thinks another prisoner is going to go missing. Now he hasn't got any proof, but apparently he heard Gant telling an unseen male, and I quote, "Don't worry, we'll make him disappear and soon, with in the next week for sure. In the mean time, you leave him alone. We need a healthy target this time. The last one was too beat up to give a good hunt."

Mac sat down on his bunk and scratched lazily at the back of his neck. Looking down he said, "Victor thought all along that Gant was in on the disappearances. Him and this four-man crew called the 'Musketeers'. He's trying to get into Gant's office so he can get a look around, maybe even get into Gant's computer and see what's in his personal files." Mac looked back up at the Director, "So, all we need to do is figure out exactly who Gant was talking to, find the proof that they were the ones behind the disappearances and the murders, then we can get out of here! Jesus Christ won't that be nice." Mac scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Hopefully, we'll find out why they did it too." Mac hated unanswered questions. He didn't bother asking the Director who the informant was, she wouldn't tell him anyway.

The Director shook her head, "As soon as you find the answers to the first two questions, you and Victor can vacate this dump. The answer to the third question will take care of its self in a court of law. Speaking of Victor, where is my brooding ex-cop?"

Mac looked up, "Oh, he's in the showers."

"Is that safe for a good looking guy like him." The Director had a funny grin on her face.

Mac raised his eyebrows and frowned at the Director, "Don't worry, he can take care of himself."

The Director quit smiling and fished a piece of paper out of her pocket and thrust it at Mac, "Here's the next time you're supposed to see Li Ann. Don't miss it, I want to know what's going on." The Director rapped on the clear door. Wang turned around and opened it up for her. As soon as the Director stepped into the block, the numerous hoots and hollers started up again. Mac stuffed the paper in his pocket and then lay down on his bunk. While he waited for Victor to return, he ran the facts of the case through his head.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor ignored the looks of the other two inmates, and stepped under the hot spray. He showered himself quickly, and while he was still soaping up, the other men had finished dressing and left the shower room, leaving Victor all alone. He glanced at the wall clock: 7:13.He shut the water off and went over to where he had put his things. He towelled off quickly, knowing from talking to Walker that Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday were Eddie's shower nights. And since it was Tuesday tonight; Eddie would come in and take his shower, alone, around 7:20 P.M.

Victor wasn't on the same schedule as Eddie, but the guards weren't to strict when it came to enforcing the shower times. The schedule was more for knowing who was in the shower in case of trouble breaking out, which it did, more often than not.

Now fully dressed, the ex-cop watched as the minutes ticked away on the wall clock. Finally, at 7:27 Big Eddie entered the shower. Victor, standing behind a row of lockers, went unseen by the large con. As the man undressed, Victor picked up the tube sock and stuffed the can of shaving cream inside of it. He wrapped the end of the sock around his hand once and waited patiently until Eddie was standing under the water before he attacked.

Victor glared hard at Eddie--his presence still undetected--and glowered at the beast that had brutalised Matt. His anger and need for revenge were fuelled by images of Matt; impossibly young and helpless, unable to stop the rapes and the beatings for himself.

Big Eddie turned his back to the lockers and Victor decided not to wait. He took the offered opportunity to catch the killer unaware. He ran up to big Eddie, who turned around and managed to say "What...?" Just as Victor swung the sock with all of his strength and hit Eddie in the side of the head, splitting open the skin from the left corner of his eye to the hairline at the ear. Working like a mace, the can inside of the sock was an effective weapon. Big Eddie popped up and swung hard at Victor, catching the agent in the mouth. Victor's lip split open and he tasted his own coppery blood. Roaring with anger, Victor's adrenaline surged and before he even knew what was happening he had blacked out. When Victor half way came to his senses, he was kicking Big Eddie's still form in the ribs, over and over again. He stopped kicking out at Eddie and stood there, frozen, staring at the bloody man, unable to move.

Suddenly, out of nowhere Walker appeared. He saw Victor just standing there, as if mesmerised by Eddie, which he was in a way, except it was all the blood that he was hypnotised by.

Walker saw that Victor was not going to get moving on his own, so he grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard. Yelling firmly to him, "Snap out of it Victor."

Victor blinked his vision clear. He had no real memory of what had happened. The last thing he remembered was Eddie hitting him in the mouth, then everything up until Walker shaking him 'awake' was blank. He looked down again at the motionless Eddie; the man was bleeding from several large cuts on his face and was clearly unconscious. Both of his eyes were swollen shut and already turning a deep purple. Victor had a fuzzy vision of kicking Eddie in the ribs just a few minutes ago; they were probably damaged too. The agent let his gaze wander down and he looked at the sock, hanging limp in his hand. The formerly white sock was now stained pink with the inmate's blood.

"Give me the sock and get out of here right now." commanded Walker, who, lucky for Victor, had just happened to be working overtime and was performing a routine check of the shower area. When it looked like Victor was just going to stand there and stare at him, Walker slapped his face lightly then cupped the man's face gently between his hands, "You hear me? Get going right now before Wang catches you and we have to throw you in the hole."

Victor's fog lifted and he listlessly handed over the bloodied sock, "Thanks Walker," he said gratefully, before grabbing his stuff and hurrying from the showers.

As soon as Victor had gone, Walker spoke into the small radio pinned to his shirt, "Wang, get your ass down to the B block showers pronto! We got a prisoner down. Better bring the medics and the gurney with you too. "

Walker heard whispers and turned around to see that a few inmates had wandered in and were now standing around and looking at Big Eddie, "You humps can get your asses out of here right now. Unless of course you want to hang around and tell me what happened." The inmates, only wanting to get a look, turned around and left. No one really cared about Big Eddie the bully.

Wang walked in just as Big Eddie was being loaded onto the gurney, "What happened?" he asked.

By the time Wang had shown up, Walker had managed to get rid of the sock and the can of shaving cream. He would have done and said anything to protect Victor... his lover...."I don't know." he said casually, " I came in on a routine check and found Eddie laid out on the floor and beaten to a pulp."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor reached out a shaky hand and grabbed the handle of his pod door. He slipped into the cell and kept his back to the clear Plexiglas, as if he was preventing an intruder from entering the agent's sanctuary. Blowing out his breath gently, he whispered, "Holy Shit."

Mac looked up from what he had been doing and saw the bloody state his partner was in. He sat up so fast that the blood rushed from his head, making him momentarily dizzy. "What the hell happened to you?" he said, not bothering to hide his concern.

Victor snapped his head towards the lower bunk, eyes wide from being startled by Mac's presence. His lower lip was swollen and the corner of his mouth was already purpled with yet another bruise.

He stared a Mac for a second before he came out of his trance and answered Mac's question. "Oh, nothing," he said, too casually. Victor looked down and realised that his white T-shirt was covered with blood, he assumed that this was what must be causing all of Mac's consternation. "Don't worry Mac," Victor pulled off his shirt and dropping it carelessly to the floor he walked over to the small sink. "That's not my blood on the shirt. . ." Victor looked into the mirror and examined the crusted blood in one of his nostrils, "Well maybe a small amount of it is mine, but everything's all right; the majority is some other bastard's." He jammed the plug into the sink and twisted on the hot water. He turned around and leaned back against the sink, smiling at Mac he said, "Actually it's that sack of shit Big Eddie's blood." Turning back around he shut the water off and grabbed a face cloth.

Mac stood up and went over to where his lover was standing. "Did Big Eddie try something on you in the shower?" Mac grabbed Victor on either side of his head and turned him gently side to side. He examined the damage, which was minimal considering who his opponent was. The agent had no idea that Victor had gone into the fight prepared.

Victor smiled again and raised his eyebrows, "Actually no. I was the one who jumped him."

Mac dropped his hands, "You what?" he asked, perplexed by Victor's behaviour. "I don't get it. What's going on, Vic?"

Victor dipped the cloth in the hot water and wrung it out, but he made no motion to wipe away the blood that had accumulated under his nose. Still clutching the wet cloth he acknowledged that he'd gone to Walker for Big Eddie's schedule, and told him how exactly payment had been exacted for such information.

Mac frowned deeply when Victor mentioned having to kiss Walker, but he said nothing and let Victor continue telling his side of the story.

Dropping the cloth back into the sink, Victor finished up his version by stating matter of factly, "Then I waited. And when his guard was down, I jumped him. He got one shot in before I blacked out from an adrenaline rush. When I came 'to', I was kicking that pusball in the ribs, asking him how he liked getting beat on." Victor stared at Mac; there was no guilt in his expression, because he did not feel guilty for what he had done to Big Eddie. As far as Victor was concerned, Eddie deserved whatever he got. Victor was only too happy to exact a little revenge on behalf of his young friend. Victor however, did not mention to Mac that Walker had come in and more or less saved his ass from a stretch in the hole. He reasoned to himself that there was no point in getting his already concerned lover all worked up over Walker, the psychotic guard. Victor turned away for a second, and fishing for the face cloth, drew it out of the water once again and wrung it out. He looked up into the mirror and began dabbing at the stain on his skin.

Mac licked his lips and shook his head. Jumping on a man unaware and kicking the living shit out of him. That, in Mac's opinion, did not sound like his partner at all. Mac reached out and grabbed Victor and spun his partner around to face him. Taking over the wet cloth, Mac washed Victor's face himself. "You've changed." Mac said softly.

"How so?" came the husky response.

"You scare me Vic. Some where along the way, you've managed to acquire the 'mob mentality' of this place." Mac pushed back Victor's bangs and ran the cloth over his forehead. "Remember when that mock kangaroo court was busy frying people they thought had got away with their crimes?" Victor nodded, "Well, what makes what you just did to Eddie any different than what that twisted judge did to his victims?"

Victor scowled deeply at Mac and pulled his head away from his partner's soft touch. He snatched the cloth back from Mac and scrubbed his face quickly, angry at his lover's lack of understanding. Victor tossed the cloth aside and pulled the plug in the sink. He walked a few paces away from Mac and then whirled around to say angrily at him, "Big Eddie, is a bully who got what was coming to him! And I was only to happy to be the one to teach the bastard a lesson about picking on people smaller than you!"

"Will you listen to yourself!" Mac shot back.

"Christ, Mac. When did you become such a fucking bleeding heart? Eh? It's not like I killed him or anything. Don't worry about his civil rights, partner. He'll recover enough to brutalise another young con again some day. Jesus Christ, talk about me changing, listen to you." Victor looked Mac up and down, he felt as though he was arguing with a stranger. "Since when were you ever concerned about hurting another person? Shit, seems to me you knocked more guys around than I have."

In the middle of Victor's rebuke, the buzzer sounded, and then the entire block's lights went out. Victor looked up into the darkness and ran his fingers through his short hair. He took a few deep, calming breaths and said evenly, "I gotta' get some sleep." He stripped off his pants and dropped them where he was standing. Then he stepped over the dirty pants and walked over to his bunk, jumping up gracefully to get on it. Victor settled himself on his back, and stared up at the ceiling not caring that he hadn't even brushed his teeth before bed. If Mac was concerned over Victor's behaviour then Victor was just as concerned by Mac's. He had thought that Mac would be pleased that he had put a bully with a vicious streak out of commission for a while. He would never have guessed that his partner would come up all concerned for the man. Victor sighed; he supposed Mac just didn't understand what it was like to have your soul stolen by someone else.

Mac stood in the dark in the centre of the pod. He couldn't believe that Victor had abruptly ended their conversation and gone to bed just like that. He studied the motionless man in the upper bunk for a few seconds, then walked over to the sink and started getting himself ready for bed in the relative darkness. After finishing doing that, Mac stripped down to his underwear and climbed into his own bed. He too sighed. For the last couple of nights Victor had joined him in his bunk for some 'tension releasing' fun, but obviously tonight was not going to be one of those times. Mac cleared his throat and spoke to the bottom of Victor's bed. "The Director came by for a visit after you went to . . .er. . . shower."

"Yeah." Was all Victor said.

"Yeah, she came right to the cell and asked me why you haven't been in to report to Li Ann."

"You tell her I've had better things to do; like getting intravenous drugs to clear up an infection from a bite mark made by a rabid prison guard." The bitterness in Victor's voice was blatant.

Mac ignored the biting comment, "I told her that you hadn't had the time actually. She told me that the 'informant' who ever that is, warned her that he thought some one else was going to get snatched soon. But he didn't know who the unlucky bastard would be."

"Ok, I'll keep my eyes open." Victor said icily. "Goodnight."

Mac sighed and tried once more, "Listen Vic, I'm sorry about giving you a hard time about Big Eddie, it's just that I worry about all the subtle the changes in your personality. It seems like you're not the same guy anymore."

"Yeah, well you try being a grown man and having some sweaty bastard force himself on you. You put up with that kind of shit first, then we'll talk about changing. I got fucked over once, Mac, no one's going to do it to me again. Matt's helpless in here, he can't look after himself. I pounded on Eddie so he wouldn't be able to hurt another kid for a long, long time." Victor pinched off angry tears from the inside corners of his eyes. He was tired of being reminded of what Gant had done to him and he was tired of living in prison. "I'm a man, Mac. I make my own choices and I live with them. I did what I did, so get off of my back. OKAY?" Victor rolled over to his stomach and tried to relax enough to sleep. He doubted though, that slumber would come anytime soon for him. Victor felt guilty about arguing with Mac, and even guiltier for pushing him away. Punching his thin pillow into a ball, he shut his eyes and tried to think about how things would be once he got out of prison.

"Ok." Mac murmured softly, he too, felt awful for arguing with Victor, but he knew his partner, and right now, the frosty words that came from Victor told him that he had better leave things alone for now. Mac rolled over onto his side and tried to get some sleep, despite the relatively early hour.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The atmosphere in the agents' pod the next morning was like being in the arctic. . . very chilly. Neither man knew what to say to the other, or how to say it. Victor still had some residual anger left over from the night before, and Mac, having the uncanny sense of knowing when Victor needed space- and this was one of those times- settled for simply keeping his mouth shut. After the morning grooming routines were finished, the partners left their pod and went to breakfast.

Walker's ever-present gaze observed the men as they exited their pod. He was pleased to see the distance between the two men, even if it was just a couple of feet. Normally they were shoulder to shoulder. Both Victor and Mac wore grim expressions; the posture of their bodies said it all. They were angry with each other. Neither man bothered to speak to the other while walking to the cafeteria. Walker smiled knowingly to himself.

Victor must have told Mac that they were through. I hope he told that arrogant prick about getting together with me instead.

Walkers grasp on reality was becoming more tenuous.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac followed Victor out of the dining area, the tense silence between them was wearing very thin on his already jangled nerves. The agent could not take the strain any longer and in an effort to break it he grabbed Victor's biceps, forcing his partner to turn around and face him. He said to Victor, "Look, I'm sorry I said you've changed. Okay?" Mac looked around himself, before saying, "Maybe it is me who's changed. And not you." He dropped his hand.

Victor's face softened, he hated the strain between them too. He was relieved when Mac had stopped him, before things went to far between them. "Listen Mac, I don't know why I flew off the handle last night..." Victor hesitated for a second, but then managed a weak apology, "I'm sorry too. We'll talk tonight about trying to wrap this case up. Alright?" Victor smiled at Mac.

Mac smiled back, it was a beginning at least, "Okay. We'll make some plans tonight." He wasn't just referring to the plans concerning the case either, Mac had every intention of discussing his and Victor's 'relationship', whether his lover wanted to or not.

As Victor walked away from him, Mac watched his friend leave. His focus went from Victor to just beyond him, to the dark ominous figure, standing in the shadows. It came as no surprise to Mac, to see that it was Walker.

of course!

The ever present guard, was leaning against the wall, watching, of course, them.

He's driving me crazy, always watching us like that! Mac scowled at the guard. Correction, always watching Victor like that. Mac turned on his heel and made his way to the kitchen.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Walker unlocked the door to the service hall, and the inmates entered. Victor was the last con to pass through the heavy steel door, and as he did so, Walker put a possessive hand at the small of the agents back, leaning in close. He whispered, "I can get you into Gant's office today, right after the assignments are handed out."

Victor only nodded his acknowledgement and took a few quick steps to catch up with the other guys who worked in the library. He looked over his shoulder back at Walker, who was locking the door. He could still feel where Walker's large hand had sat against his back. Then Victor shook his head wondering just how Walker could delude himself into thinking that Victor actually 'desired' him.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Getting Victor into Gant's office had been incredibly easy for Walker. All he had to do was check the 'old man's' schedule and work around it. He knew that Gant, at that very moment was busy introducing himself to a busload of new fish. Walker, generally on duty for the new arrivals, simply changed the schedule and assigned another, just as eager guard to the duty. After meeting with the new cons, Gant had rounds to do in the block that housed the inmates in solitary confinement. Gant would go once a week to every segregated cell and speak with the inmate personally. It saved the warden from having to do it. Gant would take at least two or three hours, depending on the complaints, to finish his rounds. Then it was time for the chief of the guards to eat his lunch, an activity he never missed. Walker knew he had all of the morning and a good deal of the afternoon to devote to Victor.

Walker pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked the back door to chief's inner sanctum. Gant did have a secretary, but her office was in another building with the 4 other women who worked for the penitentiary's main office. She did not need to be sitting out front of Gant's office to assist him. She could take messages and transfer calls from anywhere in the prison. Besides working for Gant, she was also the chaplain's and the director of social services secretary too.

"Well, here it is, Victor." Walker said to the agent. He checked to be sure that Gant's drawers were all still safely locked; he may be in love, but he was not a complete fool. Walker booted up the computer for Victor and logged on for him. "The rest is up to you. I'll be back in a while." Walker went back to the door in which they had entered and grasped the knob. Turning around he added, "And don't steal anything, or it's both our asses." Walker smiled brightly to the dumbstruck Victor and then walked out and locked the door behind himself.

Victor stared after the guard for a second then he went over to the door and checked the knob. It was locked. Unable to resist, he went to the main entrance and check that door, it too was locked. He looked around for a second then shrugged his shoulders. He sat down behind Gant's computer and stared at the screen. Victor didn't know when Walker would be back for him, so he thought that he had better get at it. He looked up at the clock on the wall, noted the time then began to scroll through the contents of the computer.

It only took Victor about 10 minutes to find an area named personal stuff. The agent "hmphed" and shook his head at the very unoriginal heading. He immediately tried to access those files, but, as he expected, the files were password protected. Victor licked his lips and got down to work, he hoped that he had enough time to find the password. First he tried the usual words like Gant's first and last name, he even anagrammed them, but that did not work. He looked around the office and typed in everything his eye could see, just in case Gant was the forgetful type and needed a visual reminder of his password. Victor only wished that he knew Gant's date of birth. That was another common password for people to use. Frustrated Victor, quit typing and rubbed the back of his neck. He thought about what kind of guy Gant was.

Victor knew him for the rapist he was.

But Gant wouldn't see himself that way, would he?

Victor tried putting himself in Gant's jackboots, and then it hit him, Gant was the 'head honcho', the 'man in charge'. He took his pleasure in controlling those who were weaker than he. Victor readied his fingers and then began typing words associated with Gant's traits. No more the 10 minutes later, a key turning in a lock sounded out from the computer, and Victor was inside Gant's personal files.

The Enforcer. Should have started with that first.

Victor mentally patted himself on the back as he began to read. He came across a sub-file marked "hunting licenses." Victor opened it up and then muttered out loud to himself, "Bingo."

Under the heading of Targets Victor saw a column of names, including those names of the missing prisoners that they already knew about, and in particular Joseph Carter. In marked columns beside each name, there were dates of when the each of the men had gone missing. Under heading of Hunters there were names of men as well, except that they were first names only, and along side those names there were five digit dollar amounts and the initials Pd. Victor also read what he thought might be the name of a lodge or a motel. The Northern Lights. Judging from the short description given under the name, it sounded like the lodge could be located somewhere near the area of where the 4 bodies were found.

Victor turned on Gant's printer and began copying everything contained within the files. While the printer was busy making copies, Victor scrolled down the page and saw that there was a new entry. There was blank under the target heading, but under hunters heading there were four first names, Sal, Joel, Austin, William. Then a dollar amount for $25,000. The date for the 'hunt' read the next days date. There was also an additional comment of: Sal has seen photo of intended target and is pleased with the choice.

Victor wiped a fine bead sweat from his forehead and exhaled deeply. As soon as the documents were done being printed, he very carefully shut down the computer, taking care to empty out the cache. He folded and then pocketed the damning documents; he couldn't believe that he had proof of Gant's involvement with the disappearances and murders of the young men. Judging by the names on the list, there were plenty more victims than just the four known. Victor leaned back in the c.o.'s chair and waited for Walker to return. He was anxious to get this information to LiAnn and then tell Mac. The next victim hadn't been named, according to the records, but Victor would bet his left arm that Gant already had picked him out.

He turned his head at the sound of the bolt lock turning. He sat up straight in the chair and watched the door open. Walker walked in and carefully locked the door. "Find what you needed to Victor?" he purred as he walked behind the plush office chair that Victor was sitting in.

"I was just fishing around. I didn't find anything very interesting." Victor looked sideways at the printer, and was relieved to see that he had in fact shut it off. For a second there he wasn't sure.

"Uh, uh, uh," admonished Walker from behind the chair. He put his hands on the agent's shoulders and spun him around in the chair so that the men where now facing each other. "I know who you are, Victor, and I know what you were looking for. That's why I let you in, so you could find the proof that you needed about the disappearances."

Victor's exterior remained calm, however his insides had turned to liquid instantly. He forced him self to smile and without taking his eyes off of the guard he said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do, Victor. Or should I call you Mr. Mansfield, employee of a secret government agency?" Walker replied smugly despite the agent's original protest.

SHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT!

For some reason Walker made him more nervous now than when they had first met. Knowing full well that his cover was blown, he tried another tact. "So you're the informant, eh?" Victor didn't like the look in Walker's cold blue eyes; the guard looked positively demonic. "If you're here to help us, then how come you beat the shit out of me on the first day and then let Gant...rape...." Victor hesitated, no longer afraid, but now angry. "...You..." he accused Walker, "Let Gant violate me. You bastard! You're supposed to be watching out for us!" Victor brought his arms up and pushed Walker's hands away from his shoulders. Then he shoved the guard back a pace and jumped up. He went around to the other side of the desk and with the distance between them, Victor found it easier to tell Walker just what, exactly, he really thought of him. "You shit, you knew all along, yet you let me 'come on' to you and made me think that I was enticing you!"

Walker smiled indulgently at his prisoner as he walked around the desk. He stepped up closer to Victor and grabbed him around the waist. Walker pulled him in close, "Oh, but you do entice me, Victor; make no mistake about that."

Victor gave Walker a confused look, not sure he knew what was going on. "Get your fucking hands off me," warned the ex-cop as he pushed the guard away from himself. "If you're the informant, then obviously I don't need to coerce information from you. So you can drop the 'closeted gay boy in love' routine. I'm not buying it anymore." He stepped back a few paces, wishing Walker would just open the door and let him be on his way.

The large prison guard did not take kindly to being pushed away for a second time. He glared at Victor and shouted angrily, "I'm not some closeted fag, and this ain't no routine. I never wanted a guy before, but then I saw you and everything changed. That's why I beat you up, " Walker slowly sauntered towards Victor while he talked and Victor kept backing up until he was pinned against the main doors and could go no further. The guard put a beefy arm on either side of the agent and kept talking, "I had these weird feelings about you inside me and I didn't understand what they meant at first. You should be honoured, it takes me a long time to like someone and even longer for me not to like them." Walker stared dreamily into Victor's eyes; then reached up and ran two fingers down the side of the agent's face and over the full bottom lip. "You're mine now, Victor, mine until I say otherwise." He gave the trapped man a crazy- looking half-smile.

Victor just stood there, amazed. Walker had gone from furious to dreamlike in a matter of seconds and then back to threatening and ominous. It was at that moment that he realised the guard was unstable. Victor had no doubt that Walker really did desire him; his cop instincts had been correct the first time around. But the agent was in no way going to mislead the guard any longer. It was obvious that Walker had his own rules inside his warped mind, and he played by those. Victor's main concern now, was getting out of Gant's office alive and getting the documents he had copied to Li Ann. With the information he was holding, after Li Ann had read it, it would be only a matter of hours before he and Mac would be able to get out of this place. Walker was the only real obstacle between the agents and freedom.

"Listen Walker, " Victor said, "I'm not yours and there is no us. I was leading you on because I thought that I would be able to get information out of you. You're the informant that has been working with my agency, so obviously you know that I was here investigating the disappearance of Joseph Carter. I'm an agent, Walker, who does what he has to in order to close a case. I'm not your boyfriend and I'm sure as hell not your lover. It was all a game." Victor thought that maybe a truthful, tough-love approach might be the best course of action. He had done enough misleading already.

The guard's expression changed yet again, and Victor knew immediately that being honest with Walker was definitely not the right way to go in this situation.

Bad move Vic. Think of something else and do it quickly!

Walker scowled at the agent briefly, just before he snapped and lost all control. Grabbing Victor by the throat he roared, "You skinny little punk assed bastard! I'll tell YOU when it's over. And sweetheart, it ain't over." Walker banged Victor's head a few times against the door.

Now all of Victor's alternative, non-confrontational choices had been taken away from him. Thinking that Walker would just as soon as kill him as let him leave, he had no choice but to fight back against the raging man. Victor's hands came up and he dug his fingers into the tender area on the inside of Walkers wrists. Successfully breaking the guard's chokehold. He hit Walker in the stomach with his fist as hard as he could. The younger man's stomach was so firm that it felt, to Victor, like he had just punched the heavy bag in the gym.

Walker gave a loud "oof" at the heavy contact, and tried to grab for the agent again.

Victor shot out his right leg and kicked the much larger guard in the left kneecap, toppling the man over. He turned to run and just as he did he realised that both doors were still locked. Turning around quickly, Victor meant to pick up the heavy paperweight sitting on the co.'s desk and bash Walker over the head with it; then he planned on making a grab for the guard's set of keys to the prison.

Unfortunately, just as his right hand closed over the object, Walker, still on the floor, reached out a long arm and seized Victor's left ankle. Catching the agent off guard, he pulled with all of his strength.

Victor shouted "Whoa..." as he lost his balance and started to go over. On the way down to the floor, he hit his head on the corner of the desk. The blow was not hard enough to make him lose consciousness, but it stunned the former cop enough that he saw stars, and for a few seconds, he didn't quite know where he was exactly.

Walker stood up and limped the few paces over to where Victor was now sitting up. Even though he was still dazed from hitting his head, Victor had managed to pull himself up and was leaning back against the side of Gant's desk. As the agent sat there, trying to clear his vision, he couldn't figure out why his left eye was blurrier than the right. He raised his hand to rub some clearness into the eye, but when he touched his lid, Victor realised that it was blood that was obscuring his vision. He felt a slight twinge of pain in his hairline above the eye and gingerly touched the sore spot with his fingertips. He pulled his hand away, now at least, he knew the source of the blood. The wound itself wasn't very deep, but any little scratch on the cranium bled like it needed ten stitches to close. While still considering the cut, Victor looked up, right into Walkers arctic blue eyes.

Walker pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently pressed the stark white linen against the opening in Victor's forehead. After a few seconds he pulled the cloth away and saw that the small cut had already started to clot. The younger man smiled paternally at Victor and chucked him under the chin. "See I'm not such a bad guy now, am I?"

No, just nuts!

"What do you want, Walker?" Victor said, exhausted by the guard's bizarre behaviour. He needed time to think. He needed to find a way out of this mess without jeopardising Mac or LiAnn's lives.

Walker stated his reply to the question bluntly. "I want you. Just once, then you're free to take whatever it is that you found on Gant's computer to your lady friend in the social workers office." Walker said the words lady friend like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Victor looked at Walker and shook his head slowly, "No dice. Think of something else."

"Well put it this way," Walker said, "If I don't get what I want from you then I'll hide you in the hole, and tell the gen-pop of B block that Ramsey is a cop. What do you think they'll do to him? I'll tell you. Those murdering hyenas will tear him apart, limb by limb. And if that isn't enough to convince you, then I'll back that action up by taking that high and mighty bitch LiAnn out of her safe, cushy office and set her free in the showers of A block. And by the time your boss figures out just where exactly you are, your friends will already be dead."

Walker's smile was positively evil. He leaned in so close to Victor's face that the ex-cop could feel Walker's breath against his face. "Do you know how long it's been since one those jackals laid their hands on a real woman?"

Victor turned his face away, confused. The last thing he wanted to do was have sex with Walker, the resident psycho. But he believed Walker's threats were genuine. Victor was between a rock and a hard place.

My virtue is worth a whole lot less than my partner's lives. What's the difference will it make if I get fucked against my will one more time anyway? If it finally gets Mac and I out of here and if prevents another prisoner from being murdered, then that's all that really matters. Right?

Not quite convinced, but knowing he had little choice in the matter Victor looked back at Walker and said resolutely, "You promise not to rat out Mac and Li Ann?" He wasn't even sure that he could take the deranged guard's word for it, but what choice did he have? Victor was dammed either way. He preferred not to be the one responsible for getting his partner's killed because his psyche was too delicate to cope with the fallout.

Walker grabbed Victor's face and smiled at the desolate man triumphantly. Not that he even noticed the green-eyed man's broken spirit. He was too busy rejoicing in the agent's declaration. In his sick mind, it didn't matter how downcast Victor was while agreeing to his 'proposal' it only mattered that he had agreed. The man that he madly adored was willing, and that's all there was to it. Walker knew that if he offered Victor the right incentives then he'd come around.

"Don't worry love, their secrets are safe with me. " Walker searched Victor eyes, "This won't hurt a bit Vic, I promise you..." Then Walker leaned in and captured Victor's mouth with his own.

And Victor, perfectly compliant allowed him to...

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Twenty minutes after he had sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his partner's lives; Victor leaned over and emptied the contents, what little there was, into the C.O. of the guard's garbage can. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then worked up enough moisture to spit some of the bad taste out of his mouth. He looked up at Walker, whose back was to him, and scowled at the man. Now Victor knew how Matt must have felt all those years ago when he had been forced to sell his body to feed his and his pimp's drug habit. The difference between the two of them was that at least Victor wasn't fourteen and vulnerable.

No I'm 35 and vulnerable. Oh god I'm gonna to be sick again.

He leaned over and dry heaved into the receptacle.

Walker tucked in his uniform shirt and then zipped up his fly. He looked back over his shoulder at Victor, who was busy dry heaving into Gant's trash. Walker shook his head, regretting already that he had promised Victor that he'd only have to fuck him once before they were through. Victor was a damn good- looking man, but Walker knew that they could never be. He viewed his and Victor's relationship as a 'Romeo and Juliet' type of liaison. They came from two different worlds. Walker sighed, he would miss Victor, but he had given his word.

Oh GOD his ass had been so sweet!

Finished with dressing, Walker turned around and saw that at some point during his own musings about their lovemaking, the agent had managed to control his stomach and get himself dressed and was now waiting for him, silently, eyes downcast. He smoothed his uniform and just as if he and Victor had been discussing the weather 20 minutes earlier instead of screwing said, "You ready."

"Yeah" Victor mumbled.

"Well then Vic, it's been a slice getting to know you." Walker didn't notice the dirty look that Victor shot him over that comment. As he talked he pulled out the key ring and unlocked the office door. He glanced at his watch, and noted that there wasn't much time left before Gant would be back. "You have an appointment with social worker LiAnn in 10 minutes; you don't want to be late." Then he held the door open and waited for Victor to pass through.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Wow" LiAnn exclaimed, "How on earth did you managed to get into Gant's office and hack this information off his computer?" The excited young woman flipped through the pages one more time before securing them safely inside her briefcase. "Your awesome Vic. So do tell. How'd you do it?" She gushed.

A very solemn Victor frowned at Li Anne and turned away from her. Speaking to the 'use a condom every time' poster he said, "I talked that guard Walker into letting me into the co.'s office, and I hacked the information off the computer by the usual means." He turned back around.

His lack of enthusiasm did not go unnoticed by his female partner. Puzzled by his apathetic disposition, LiAnn studied her partner for a second before asking, "What's the matter, Victor? You're usually pretty jazzed after a good hack job." She smiled at her own little joke.

Wondering how much he could confide in his one-time girlfriend, Victor decided just to stick to the basics. "Bad news LiAnn."

"Oh?" She said, no longer smiling.

"Walker's the informant. He knew all along who Mac and I were."

Not understanding the full scope of the situation, LiAnn asked, "And that's a bad thing why?"

Victor blew out his breath in frustration and rubbed at the back of his neck. He could feel the sore spot where Gant had bitten him, and where, over top of that old bruise, Walker had added his own teeth marks. "It's not good LiAnn because the guy's psychotic. He's the one that I had a problem with the first day in here."

"What kind of problem?" She asked though she had already guessed at it.

Angry over LiAnn's seemingly inability to follow the story thread Victor said sarcastically, "He's the one who shit kicked me. OKAY! Get it now? That bastard knew exactly who Mac and I were and yet the crazy fuck beat me half senseless and left me at the mercy of an even more malignant bastard..." Victor, realising that LiAnn would have no clue at all about Gant, cut himself off before he admitted more than he really wanted too. "One word from Walker," he said after a beat, "And were all dead."

"Oh," was all Li Ann said. "I see." She looked at her watch, and saw that it would be too late for her to manage the paperwork that would get Mac and Victor out today. "Listen, we have to pull you guys out of here. The sooner the better. But I can't get you out on my authority alone, and everyone," everyone meaning the warden and the assistant warden, "has gone home for the day. I'll take this, she pointed to her briefcase, to the agency and try to rundown the names on the list and see if we can locate the lodge. We'll pull you out first thing in the morning. Do you think you'll be okay between now and then? Can you trust Walker not to spill the beans?" LiAnn began to pack up her things, wanting to get to the agency as soon as possible; time was of the essence.

Victor shook his head and was reminded of what, exactly, he had done to ensure Mac's, LiAnn's and his own safety. Walker was crazy; who knew what he would do? "I hope so LiAnn." Then he whispered quietly to himself, "otherwise I degraded myself for nothing."

"What? What did you say?"

"Nothing, I was just mumbling. Look I better go. Don't worry, I think we'll be okay until morning." He gave his partner a faint smile and started for the door.

"Victor." LiAnn called out.

"Yeah?" He said as he turned around.

"Be extra careful, eh? Watch your back, and Mac's too." She smiled at Victor and waited for him to answer.

"I will." He said huskily, then he was gone.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Kensington Penitentiary: 1:00 a.m.

The pod door swung open, and both Mac and Victor sat up at the same time. The agents were greeted through the semidarkness by bright halogen flashlight being shone in their faces, each man, slightly disoriented, squinted against the almost blinding light. Victor scowled and held up one hand, trying to cut the glare down as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the other, while Mac knuckled both eyes simultaneously, wondering if he was dreaming or not. Then a man spoke to them, and Mac had his answer.

"Get up and get dressed. Now!" The stern voice commanded from out of the darkness.

Victor recognised the voice that spoke to them as belonging to Gant, the C.O. of the prison guards. However, he could not make the man out clearly as Gant, and another person who was holding a second flashlight, were visible in the form of a silhouette only. The identity of the other person was anyone's guess. He only hoped that it wasn't Walker.

The agents rose from their bunks and dressed hurriedly. Both men stopped talking when Victor's initial questions of what the hell is going on as answered with a baton to his stomach. After that, both agents wisely remained silent.

You didn't need to be Einstein however, to figure out that one or both of them was most likely the next target for the group of hunters up north.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Standing in the chilly bay of the receiving area, Victor looked around the dimly lit room, but he did not see Walker among what looked to be four prisoners judging by their prison garb. They were standing with them in the room. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not by that fact. His worried eyes rested on Mac for a second, then he turned his gaze back to the group and watched the cons warily, as they spoke quietly to Gant.

Both he and Mac were securely cuffed, with their hands confined their sides by waist chains and tethered to the wall behind them by a long leather type 'leash'.

Victor, remembered all to well what had happened the last time he had been restrained in just such a way. It made him feel anxious to be so vulnerable again. For the last 10 minutes he had been experiencing very real, very vivid flashbacks of what had happened the last time Gant had restrained him. He broke out into a fine sweat that peppered his brow with delicate, tiny drops of moisture.

Victor looked back to Mac, as if seeking some sort of reassurance. Now that he had an audience, Victor hoped that Gant would be less tempted to repeat the brutal acts he had committed against him the last time they were alone together, but still Victor could not stop himself from experiencing anxiety over the situation.

Mac watched Victor from the corner of his eye, and judging by his partner's body language, it was plain that the older man was more than just nervous. Mac looked at Victor full on and smiled encouragingly at his partner, comforting Victor with a simple look. Mac, trying to take his lover's mind off of things, asked Victor, "I wonder where Walker is?"

Gant handed off a cell phone to one of the inmates that both agents recognised but did not know, and directed his comments to Victor as he answered Mac's question. "Oh, we know out all about your boyfriend Walker and to whom he was reporting." Gant came to a stand still in front of Victor, " . . . We took care of him earlier, so don't look for him to come charging in on his white horse to save your skin." The older man looked Victor over lecherously, from head to toe, thinking to himself what nice skin it was too.

Now at least, the pair knew for sure that Walker wasn't in on the hideous scheme of selling humans for slaughter, but unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to help them out of this mess either. Of the four cons waiting in the room with Gant, Mac knew two of them from his confrontation with them a couple of weeks ago, the other two that he had not dealt with yet were Marc and Bobby.

The foursome of men who made up the infamous 'Musketeers'.

Unable to resist annoying the two cons that he'd beaten up earlier, Mac looked over to Vic and smiled mischievously, "Hey Clyde,.." He asked, "How do the nuts feel? The swelling go down yet?" Victor snorted lightly and laughed softly, along with Mac.

Clyde, whose balls had nearly been twisted off by Mac, narrowed his eyes at the offender and lacking any sort of a good comeback to the rhetorical question, turned red and said simply, "Shut up!"

Mac stopped laughing and again looked at Victor, "Whooo." He said sarcastically, "such big words for a moron." The agents laughed again. Mac was intentionally agitating the crew.

Gant walked over and stood in front of Mac, he raised a meaty fist and slammed it into Mac's stomach. The agent lost the air in his diaphragm, and he sank to his knees, gulping and gasping for a breath of air. "You were told to shut up. So do it!" ordered the guard. He went over to the unknown musketeer who still held the phone and ordered, "Try 'em again, Bobby."

At least, Victor and Mac had names to go with all four faces. None of the four inmates had bothered Mac or Victor for that matter, since Clyde and John's ill-fated sexual assault attempt against Mac's person early on in the agents stay.

Now the agents knew why they had been spared the wrath of the Musketeers after the fight. One or both of them were definitely the next target for the hunters. The hunters who would be chasing them down would most likely the men whose names Victor had seen on the computer files next to the empty space under target.

Mac glanced sideways at Gant, and with a masochistic streak that would not be denied, the younger man could not resist getting in one more barb. "How's the wrist, John?" He asked, smiling as he recalled snapping it for him during their fight. "Does the cast interfere with jacking Clyde off much?" Mac looked up to Victor, who just rolled his eyes at his partner.

"Why you insolent little . . . " sputtered John, "I oughtta' . . . " He started toward Mac, but Gant put up an arm and prevented him from reaching the still kneeling agent.

Gant stared Mac directly in the eyes for a moment, then turned his gaze toward Victor, and appraised the silent agent. "Obviously you don't know when enough is enough do you?" He said to Mac while still watching Victor. "Hitting you isn't a punishment, is it? Well I think it's time I hurt you where it counts." All four inmates watched to see what the guard was going to do.

Even though Bobby was still on the phone, he stared in rapt attention at the scene playing out before him.

Gant went over to Victor and punched the unsuspecting agent in the stomach; when he fell to his knees, the vicious older man grabbed a hand full of the agent's short brown hair and yanked back Victor's head. Exposing the agent's throat.

Victor groaned at the pain, but otherwise did not utter a word. He would not give Gant the satisfaction of lording over him again. And when the sufficient protests had not come from either agent, Gant squeezed Victor's silky hair tighter and said, "Ok, have it your way." He signalled to Marc, the most sadistic felon of the bunch.

Marc went over to where Gant and Victor were.

Gant pulled Victor to his feet while still holding his head by the hair and said to Marc, "let him have it." Marc licked his lips in anticipation as he brought up a fist and hit Victor on the left side of his face. Victor's head snapped sideways as Gant let go of him. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth and he fell back down to his knees where this time it was Marc who grabbed his hair and steadied the agent.

"Stop it. Okay? Just stop it! I'll be quiet!" Mac yelled in a panic. The last thing he wanted was for Victor to pay the price because he couldn't or wouldn't keep his big trap closed.

Victor mumbled, "Mac, I'm ok." At the same time that Bobby said into the cell phone, 'Ya, it's me.'

Gant smiled in triumph and looked at Marc. He said to the con, "Let him go Marc." Then to Mac, "I knew I'd get you to shut your smart mouth."

Before he let go of Victor, Marc leaned in and whispered in the panting agent's ear, "Next time your partner speaks out I'll take you in the next room and teach you a REAL lesson, sweetheart. Compared to me, the beating that asshole guard Walker laid on you will seem like a spanking with a feather." Marc bit Victor's lobe gently, rimmed the inside with his tongue and then blew in the ear as he stood up. Laughing, Marc walked back over to where Clyde and John stood, both of them now sporting erections.

Mac glowered at the group of men, but knowing that Victor would be the one to get beat on instead of him, he kept his biting retorts to himself. He stood up and turned to examine Victor with his eyes only. He was saddened by the current state that his partner was in.

Victor's nose had stopped bleeding, along with his mouth, but he was still very much a pathetic sight. Mac watched, unable to help his partner as he struggled and eventually settled himself, sitting on the floor with his back against the cold, industrial brick wall. Mac sighed and stepped back and slid down the wall next to him.

Victor had his knees bent and he rested his head on top of his kneecaps. Mac wished he could put his hand to the back of his friends head and rub out some of the pain, he knew Victor had to be feeling from being knocked around. Mac, being cuffed the way he was, had to settle for moving closer and touching him, shoulder to shoulder.

Bobby hung up the phone and handed it back to Gant. "He says," -- Gant obviously knew who he was -- "That they'll pay 60 g's for the pair of them. They plan on being there for a long weekend." Bobby looked toward the two seated men. He grinned maliciously at them both. "I told him he had a deal." Bobby turned back to Gant. "Was I wrong in saying that?"

"No. Makes things on this end a whole lot less messy for us." Gant was very much aware that he had two agents of some sort in his custody. Just who exactly they worked for was still unclear, but it was apparent that the pair of them had been sent in to check out the disappearances of the inmates and that it was Walker who was keeping the men's bosses informed.

Even before he knew who the agents were, Gant had already planned on selling Mac to the hunters because he was young and appeared to be fit. The musketeers had volunteered his name right after the fight between Mac, Clyde and John, but when he found out about Victor and Mac and who they really were, that one little tidbit of information changed everything. Getting rid of them both at the same time was by far the best solution.

Once the victims were transported to their final destination, Gant would pick up the payment for selling the inmates the next day, in person. He would pay off the people who worked for him on the inside and out, then after that he intended to take off before things got too hot and blew up in his face. He had no plans to end up as a permanent resident of Kensington.

An outcome that would not do at all.

The scam that he'd had going with the judges for the past year and a half had left him a very rich man, but the law of averages foretold that it was only a matter of time before someone caught up to him. This way, by the time Victor and Mac's superiors found them, they would be dead and he would be living the good life in a country that had no extradition treaties. A place like Bolivia or even Uruguay. He had unlimited choices.

"When will the van be here?" Gant asked.

"Should be here in just a few minutes." Bobby walked away from his friends and went to where Gant was standing in front of the chained men to talk to him. "There's one hell of a storm working its way up here from the south. It's already shut the entire city down. It will probably hit here full force in a couple of hours, or so. I told the transport guys to get here as soon as they could." The transport guys Bobby was referring to were two previous inmates of Kensington, put to work by their former C.O. The guard looked at the leader of the musketeers for a second, then he approached the agents and squatted down in front of Victor.

Victor, who was still resting, had sensed someone had come over to him. He raised his head and looked at Gant, his large green eyes filled immediately with rage and hatred for the other man.

Mac sat silently next to his partner, unwilling to be the one to earn Victor another beating, but like Victor, he stared maliciously at both Bobby and Gant.

The guard studied Victor for a minute and then Mac. He knew instantly that he had made the right choice by taking Victor instead of Mac on that first day. The older agent's pride had been stolen and his spirit crushed, you could see it in his face. The sadistic guard had forever changed the green-eyed man. Gant's finely tuned instinct had told him at the time that the younger man would not react in the way he was seeking. Mac was younger and more resilient to life's abuses. But Victor, being just that little bit older, was more set in his thoughts, ways and ideas. The ecstasy that Gant had experienced while hurting Victor, and the pleasure he had taken in debasing the agent was yet, by far, the best he had ever encountered. Gant silently wished that he had planned things a little differently, so he could feel the same excitement that he had felt that day with the handsome convict one last time. There just wasn't enough time left before the van arrived to pick up the pair of spies. Gant looked over his shoulder at Bobby for an instant, silently saying to the con watch me. He grabbed Victor under the chin and held him with fingers on one side of his bruised jaw and his thumb on the other side.

Gant spoke to Mac, "Did your roommate tell you what I did to him after I stripped and searched him?" The tone in the guard's voice was malicious; he squeezed Victor tighter. "Hmm?"

Victor managed to work up a mouth full of moisture and spit it into Gant's face, "Fuck you!" he said emotionally.

Bobby reacted instantly, "Why you fucking piece of shit!" and he back handed Victor across the face, making the agent's head snap back and slam into the brick wall behind him.

Gant grabbed the green-eyed man in the same vice like grip and squeezed even tighter. Gant loved a challenge, he may not have been able to sexually assault the agent, but he took perverse pleasure in raping Victor all over again, this time by using words. The older guard ran his arm over his face and hastily wiped away Victor's spit. After doing that he reached over with his free hand and dragged his middle finger over Victor's lips, which were pressed together tightly. He smeared the blood--caused by Bobby's blow--across them.

Colouring the swollen mouth with the bright red liquid.

Victor tried to pull his head away; all he wanted to do was to rest it again. He was so very tired. Tired from being slapped around so much and tired of Gant and his abusive ways. Victor wished that the van would just show up so he could get away from the prison altogether. It didn't matter that he was on his way to imminent death; he just wanted the whole nightmare to be over with one way or another.

Gant however, was not done assaulting Victor with his statements. In fact, he was just getting started. "Well,.." He drawled, "..in case Victor didn't tell you I will. I stuck my dick up his ass." All four of the musketeers hooted from behind their superior.

Victor closed his eyes and fought down off the wave of nausea that was washing through him. He did not want to recall the events of that first day with Walker, and then with Gant. That had been his first time ever when it came to having intercourse with a man. What should have been a mutual, perhaps even pleasurable occasion with a partner he approved of, had been, in reality, a brutally enforced, violent event.

Gant kept up his monologue; "He bled more than a virgin on her wedding night..." Mac was glaring first at Gant then the rest of the inmates, willing them all to drop dead. "...I bent him over, he begged me not to fuck him. And when I shoved my dick up his ass for the first time, he screamed over and over again."

Mac shuddered, he remembered hearing Victor's screams from the other side of the door, and wondering to himself, at the time, what on earth was happening. "Shut up." Mac said. He had to defend his partner. "You don't need to tell me this. I already heard it."

Gant looked at Mac and raised his eyebrows, surprised that Victor had spoken about the incident; he'd figured Victor for a 'secret keeper' for sure. He fit the type but then, the men were partners in the real world after all, and partners did tend to turn to each other first, even before their spouses. Now that Gant knew he was getting to Mac as well, he kept up with his graphic description of Victor and the assault. "He was sooo juicy. The best one yet. His ass was so tight I thought he'd pull my cock off with his grip . . . "

"I'll kill you!" Mac shouted out the warning.

The vicious guard laughed at Mac's threat, "Yeah well, that's what Victor said at the time too," Gant shook Victor's head a couple of times to emphasise his words. "... and yet, here I still am." He changed his grip from underneath his chin so that he was now holding the back of the agent's neck. The large bay door opened up, and every man -- except Victor who sat there like a block of marble -- turned their heads at the noise.

The van and its drivers had arrived.

Gant grinned at Mac and turned back, now he spoke only to Victor, "Oh, I'm going to miss you, sunshine." He leaned in close and kissed the agent on the lips. Victor moved his head back and forth trying to avoid the forced kiss. But the guard held him still with both hands, and as he finished his kiss, he bit Victor's bottom lip so hard that his teeth sank in and broke the skin, drawing yet another fresh gout of blood from Victor's body.

Victor spat blood at the laughing Gant and vowed, "I'm going kill you myself. Someday, somehow, when you think your safe, I'm going to show up and put a bullet in your head." Victor knew that he would do it too.

Gant's only reply to being on the receiving end of a death threat and another face full of spit mixed with blood was to stand up slowly and punch Victor in the face, hitting the agents nose and mouth at the same time. His flew head back again and hit the cement wall behind him, knocking the agent out.

Mac, though cuffed with his hands at his sides the same way as Victor, reacted with even thinking. He growled menacingly at Gant and managed to jump up and lunge forward, smashing his forehead into the guard's face. His actions caught Gant completely off guard and Mac managed to break the c.o.'s nose. Mac felt the nose 'crunch' beneath his forehead and when the guard yelled at the sudden, sharp pain and fell backwards flat on his ass, Mac smiled to himself in satisfaction.

Bobby, who was still standing nearby, charged at Mac and grabbed the agent around the throat, squeezing so tightly that he cut off his air momentarily. "Defending your bitch. How sweet." He hissed through clenched teeth.

"Let him go." Gant said as he fished a cotton handkerchief from one of his pockets and dabbed at his nose. For a broken nose, it wasn't bleeding very much. "Two targets pay better than one. Besides, Sal doesn't want him too messed up."

Doing as he was instructed, Bobby released Mac's neck and pushed the agent away from himself. He scowled at the agent; who dropped back down to his knees to check on his unconscious partner. Bobby looked down at the other agent and cracked, "What will they say about him being all beat up then?"

"Don't worry, he's tough enough to take it . Aren't ya Victor?" Gant stuck the tip of his steeled toed Dayton into the limp man's ribs and laughed. Mac defiantly pushed the offending boot away from his lover. Gant shook his head and clucked his tongue, then he turned and looked at the two men who were waiting expectantly to transport Victor and Mac to the hunting lodge.

He flicked his gaze to Mac one last time and then settled his eyes on Victor. He stared in silence for a few seconds before saying, "Get them out of here." Turning on his heel Gant walked away from the two agents.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

3:00 am: The Agency

LiAnn strode down the hall so fast that a person with shorter legs would almost be running to catch her. When she reached the large double doors that led to the director's war room, she very dramatically flung both of the doors open at the same time and shouted out to all in the room triumphantly, "I've found them. I found those old coots' paper trail. I knew I would!"

Both the Director, who had been sitting, and Dobrinski who had been standing and leaning over her shoulder, looked up at the same time. Their eyebrows raised in unison for a second then fell in time. "I take it you've made some progress." The Director said sarcastically. She looked up at Dobrinski and with a single, silent wag of her auburn brow, told him to step away from her. He did.

Dobrinski looked back to Li Ann and said to The Director without looking at her, "I'll go and get us some coffee while Li Ann briefs you." Not waiting for his boss to answer, Dobrinski turned around and left by an exit that neither LiAnn nor her partners had ever been allowed to use.

The Director motioned for her young protg to take a seat. "Go on, tell me what you've found."

The agent stopped smiling and pulled out a sheaf of papers and photographs from a plain beige file holder. All business now, she began to tell her boss about the list of names that Victor had hacked out of Gant's computer.

"Well, I found out who owns the 'Northern Lights'. It is co-owned by four men, all of them judges in the Ontario federal court circuit. The men's full names are: Salvatore Martin, Joel Biggart, Austin Mayne and William Lawson." As Li Ann recited each name she passed her boss an 8x10 photo to go with it.

The Director took each photo and lined them up, studying each face as she listened to the agent.

"These four geezers, " she continued, "Are probably the four most powerful judges working the bench today. Their friendship goes way back to their days at a pre-law college. All of them are avid big game hunters." She pushed copies of the hunting licenses that were required to hunt the country's big game towards the Director too. The small pieces of coloured paper had the names of the judges on them along with their signatures.

"These guys are disgusting. Nothing's safe from them. From Grizzly bear, cougar and wolf to bobcat and big horn sheep. You name it and they'll kill it." Li Ann had a sour look on her face. She wasn't against hunting when it was done to feed a family, the way so many men did in the northern areas of the country but hunting for the sake of taking a trophy rubbed her the wrong way, her opinion on trophy hunting was that it was barbaric.

"I put faces and names together for the rest of the men on the list." She pulled out more photographs. "They are all successful men, lawyers, CEO'S, owners of large companies and the like. This cadre of hunters, pay out large amounts of money to the four judges just to spend time at the 'Northern lights Retreat'."

The young agent leaned forward and said to her boss matter of factly, "It's not such a big leap to go from hunting big game animals to hunting down a human being. I mean really, after a while these guys would need a bigger thrill that killing a bobcat." She noted the look in the Director's eyes and encouraged by it she went on with her theory, "I think that Gant is in the judges' back pocket. He picks out and sells a prisoner to the hunters. The game has to be in good shape and relatively healthy, otherwise, chasing down and killing a doped up junkie getting sick in the bush because he missed his last hit wouldn't be fun at all. Right? These guys they need the thrill of the hunt; they crave the challenge."

"Go on." The Director said, intrigued with the very plausible explanation.

LiAnn licked her lips, "Ok, so Gant snatches a clean inmate, in good health. A convict who will give who ever it is paying the tab a good run for his money. The hunters pay the judges, who in turn pay Gant. The judges run the operation, and every once in a while, they go out to the retreat themselves and chase down some poor guy and kill him. Somewhere along the line someone must have got sloppy about hiding the bodies, and that's how those hikers found Joseph Carter."

The young Asian woman shook her head in disgust. She couldn't fathom killing another person for the sheer sport of it. The whole operation left her with a bad taste in her mouth. Standing up, she went over to the water machine and poured herself a cup of cold water. The Director looked over the rest of the paper trail that Li Ann had brought in with her. All the evidence went back to the Judges and Gant.

Get those five, and the rest of the participants will crumble like my aunt's pie crust.

"Our informant on the inside thought that some one was going to be grabbed up and soon. But he didn't know who it would be. Too bad Victor couldn't get a name." The Director looked at her watch. It was 3:30 in the morning, but she was still as fresh as when she had first walked into her office at 9:00 am the previous morning. "We haven't heard a thing from the informant since yesterday afternoon. I'm concerned. I'd like to stop another killing if possible."

Li Ann crumpled her cup and dropped it into the small garbage can, "You mean you haven't heard from Walker since yesterday?" she questioned her boss.

The Director eyed Li Ann suspiciously, "How did you know that the guard Walker was the informant?"

She shrugged, "Victor told me; Walker told him. And judging by the sounds of things it was a pretty risky move to work with the guard in the first place. Victor says he's more volatile than nitro-glycerine." LiAnn relayed most of the story about his behaviour and the beating that he had given to Victor. Most of the information about the guard she had learned from the other personnel that she had questioned before leaving earlier the day before.

"He's not crazy when he takes his medicine!" Snapped the Director, well aware of Walker's faults and even aware of what he had done to Victor.

"Well he's obviously not taking his meds any more." Li Anne pointed out to her boss.

The Director didn't like being called on the carpet for the mistakes no matter how few and far between they were. Right now she knew that she had made a very big error in judgement by trusting a guard that she'd known was half way crazy in the first place, and an even bigger one in paying him to watch the boys' backs.

"If Walker told Victor that he knew who he was, then Walker could have told the whole prison about the guys. Shit, I can't believe I left the Mac and Victor in the care of a lunatic!" The Director berated herself for her uncharacteristic lapse in good judgement.

She picked up the phone and said to LiAnn, "I'll get some back-up to Kensington and spring the boys right now. Then we'll get up to the retreat and see what we can do about picking up some big game hunters and their prey. Hopefully we'll arrive before anybody else gets hurt." The Director could not hear a dial tone out of her phone, so she tapped the receiver a few times then, assuming that it was the line that was not working, she pushed another button to another outside line. "This goddamned phone is not working. Hand me your cell, LiAnn." The director slammed down the phone and reached for the proffered portable.

"Hold it." Instructed Dobrinski as he entered the room the same way that he'd left it earlier. Passing a coffee to LiAnn and a further one to his boss he said, "Ramsey and Mansfield are just going to have to look after themselves tonight. A huge rain and windstorm has blown up from the south. There are downed power lines everywhere and trees have taken out most of the phone lines, including some cellular towers. It's really nasty out there. The city has shut down. Most of the main roads are closed to any non-emergency traffic. There are just too many hazards out there." Dobrinski took a sip of his own coffee. "There will be no getting out of the city until late tomorrow morning or early afternoon. Nothing can fly out either, I already checked. The winds are just too strong." He took another sip and said to LiAnn, "I'm surprised the agency still has power." Then as if to question the validity of his statement, all the lights in the Director's briefing room went out. "See, I told you." Dobrinski commented placidly.

"Shit!" stated the Director. The emergency lights suddenly illuminated the corners of the room, but they provided very little light.

"This system should blow itself out by morning but until then we're trapped." Dobrinski said, sounding very much like the channel 11 weatherman.

"Shit" Echoed LiAnn as she took a drink from her coffee cup.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Gant walked away from the agents and stepped into a dark corner of the room, secreting himself in the shadows. He watched, with his attention focus solely on Victor, as Marc grabbed the shirt of the green-eyed man and hauled him roughly to his feet. Victor's eyes fluttered open at the harsh treatment, and he came to. Marc dragged him by his arm toward the van, where the transport men were already sitting in the front, impatient to leave.

Victor stumbled along, slightly behind the convict; his eyes were wide and uncomprehending. His head ached fiercely, and his body felt as though he had been hung in a gym and used as a heavy punching bag for some large boxer. In a way he had. He looked back at Mac once, but then he was forced to turn around as Marc switched his grip, so that he was now being held by the back of his neck.

Instead of the inmate leading him, he was now being guided from behind. Victor balked when it came time to get into the van, but the large inmate pushed him roughly from behind, and the agent's body disappeared into the dark depths at the back of the cube van and out of Gant's sight, presumably forever.

Initially, Mac had pushed Marc's invading hands away from his unconscious partner, but the inmate paid no attention to him other than to give the agent a hard shove away, sending the kneeling Mac back a couple of feet to land flat on his ass. Marc flipped Victor around, undid the tether behind the agent and pulled the now somewhat more cognisant agent to his feet and began to take him away. Mac watched silently, ignoring Bobby the other musketeer as the convict began to untether him. Bobby twisted his fists into Mac's shirt collar and hauled him up to his feet. Victor was pushed inside the van, and he disappeared from Mac's sight. Only when he could no longer see his partner did Mac turn his attention to what the inmate was doing to him.

Bobby slammed Mac into the wall behind them and, getting right into the agent's face he said coldly, "Gant's going to miss your friend. I think Marc will too. He's in there right now saying good bye to lover boy in his own 'special' way." Bobby stepped back a pace so that he was no longer chest to chest with Mac. "But me? I say good riddance to you both. If the main man didn't want you in mint condition, I'd take a few minutes to say goodbye to you in my own way." As Bobby spoke, a fine spray of spittle hit Mac in the face. He shook the agent a few times.

Which Mac took to mean that the inmate was not talking about anything sexual.

Mac leaned his head to the side and wiped away the moisture as best as he could by rubbing his cheek against his shoulder "Say it, don't spray it!" he complained to the inmate. Then he warned, "I'll be back and I won't be wearing chains. Then we'll see how tough you are in a fair fight." Mac spat at the inmate's feet, his aim was true and the gob landed right between Bobby's runners.

Bobby looked down and scowled at the shiny wet patch, then he gave Mac an evil smile before jabbing his finger into the agent's chest and saying, "Next time it is, then. If you live." He laughed for a second, then he released his hold all together and wound his fist around Mac's waist chain. "Come on, pretty boy," he said evenly, "Destiny has a date with death." He pulled Mac along toward the waiting vehicle.

Bobby pushed his 'prisoner' into the back of the van, then stepped into the darkness himself.

Just as the men entered the back of the van, Marc stood up and backed away from Victor, who was sitting on the floor, cross legged and propped up in the corner near the front. The convict turned around and smiling he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Marc aimed his smirk at Mac and said to him sarcastically as he passed him by to leave, "See ya - Wouldn't want to be ya!"

Both inmates laughed out loud, like it was the funniest one-liner they had ever heard. Marc left and Bobby settled Mac. He did this by removing the waist chains and cuffing the agent in front with normal handcuffs that had about 4 inches of chain in-between the metal bracelets. Bobby pushed Mac roughly and glanced down at Victor. Then he turned back to Mac and said, "Terrence will give you a couple of pee breaks on the way up. Good luck. Hope you're a fast runner."

Mac, uncharacteristically, said nothing settling instead for giving the inmate the best fuck you look that he could. Bobby left the van and slammed the doors shut. He banged on them with his fist to let Terrence, the transport driver, know that the cargo was safely tucked away and ready to go.

As the vehicle pulled out, Mac who was sitting on the floor across from Victor, studied his partner. Victor was staring contemplatively at him, wide-eyed and unblinking. But Mac could tell that Victor was not really seeing him. "Victor," he said gently. When that elicited no response Mac straightened out his leg and used his foot to shake the other agent's leg. "Victor." He said with more conviction. The ex-cop blinked his vision clear, and he finally 'saw' Mac. The van had a small window on the back of on door. It was still passing through the prison grounds and the lighting, was quite bright for 2:00 in the morning. Mac could see clearly on his partner's face that there was a fresh bite mark surrounded by a purplish red bruise at the right corner of his mouth.

Obviously a going away present from Marc. THAT BASTARD! No wonder he was in the van with Victor so long! He'll pay too when we get out of this!

The vehicle lurched to a sudden stop and Mac guessed that they probably about to pass through the main gates out of Kensington; from the walls of confinement and possible death, to a wide-open forest and a certain death.

Victor himself seemed to take no notice of where he was or what was going on. He just sat there chewing on his lower lip contemplatively making Mac wonder what was taking Victor so long to answer his simple question. Mac started to wonder whether or not Victor had even heard him. He thought that he had, but he tried one more time, "Victor. Did you hear me? I asked if you're all right."

The van started to slowly move again.

Victor released his bottom lip and said, "I'm okay."

Mac opened his mouth to say something but shut it again when Victor abruptly turned his head to the side away from Mac and rested it against the side of the van.

Victor shut his partner out with one simple, silent gesture. He closed his eyes and listened to the voices in his head tell him everything he didn't want to hear about himself. Then the van turned a sharp corner and the agents were blanketed with darkness that saved Victor from having to sit there and endure the silent looks of pity his best friend and lover was giving him.

In the seconds before Victor turned away, and they were immersed in the night, Mac's focus had gone from the bite mark, to Victor himself, whose face was masked with misery, silently telling a tale that spoke of despondency and woe. He looked so lost to Mac; even though they were not 3 feet apart Victor seemed a million miles away from him. The remoteness in his lover's eyes broke Mac's heart, and he longed to make him feel better, but he knew that right now, he could do nothing. Victor's terse reply of 'I'm okay' said it all -- yet said nothing. The younger agent knew his partner well enough to figure out that he was reverting back to the only way he knew of coping with extremely stressfully situations; by withdrawing from those around him. Mac also knew that Victor would hold everything that had happened inside himself, yet still tell his partner, with a false smile that everything was okay with him. That was too bad, considering all the progress that he had made inside Kensington; telling Mac about Gant and Walker in the first place had been a major break through for him. Their relationship, as far as Mac was concerned, would only get better with open, honesty between them. It was major deal for Victor to have to go through the assault alone and Mac had felt privileged when Victor had let him in. Too bad it was for such a short time.

The events of the last hour, the verbal violation by Gant, and yet another physical attack by the inmate Marc, had proven just too much for his partner to take. Mac assumed that Victor was simply protecting himself the best way that he could, by insulating himself in a hard shell that would be almost impossible for anyone, including Mac himself, to penetrate. The younger man was helpless to stop Victor's defence mechanisms from kicking in; he could only sit by and watch helplessly as his partner, his lover, tried to hold himself together. Mac's eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, and he stared at the shadow that was Victor. After about twenty minutes, he heard deep, even breathing followed by a soft snore. Mac smiled to himself. He was glad that Victor had managed to fall asleep. At least he could escape the reality of their situation for a few hours. It would be good for him to get some rest.

Reaching out with manacled hands, Mac grabbed an old blanket that he had seen when he first entered the vehicle, and balled it up into a makeshift pillow. He rested his head to the side and shut his eyes. Much to his surprise, Mac felt himself drawn into slumber.

Within a few seconds, he was asleep too.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Noooo . . . " Victor mewled out for the third time. His head twisted from side to side, and the handcuffs he wore rattled eerily through the darkness, as if he was trying to pull the restraints off in his sleep.

Mac sighed heavily at his partner's restlessness. His mumbling and writhing had woken him up from his own sleep ten minutes earlier. Mac wondered if maybe it might not be more merciful to just wake Victor up and spare him from his nightmares, rather then let him go suffering whatever it was that had him so terrorised in the dream world.

"Wait stop!" Victor said clearly, cutting through the dimness.

Unable to stand it anymore, Mac crawled over to Victor and rubbed his partner's shoulder gently with one cuffed hand.

The soft touch on his shoulder jerked Victor awake instantly. Startled, it took him a second to realise where he was and where he was not. "Oh shit." He said listlessly.

"Are you okay?" You've been talking and thrashing around in your sleep for the last ten minutes or so." Mac could just make out Victor in the dark, and could see that his partner was sweating despite the coldness in the back of the van. "Victor, talk to me . . . whatever it is that you're feeling or thinking, you can tell me. I'll just listen." Then he added softly, "I promise."

Victor hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He brought it back up and looked at Mac.

Even it the dim light of the van, Mac could see that Victor's eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"FUCK!" Victor roared in frustration, shaking chain of the handcuffs. "Even in this shitty lighting I can see how you're looking at me. I want you to stop it right NOW!"

Mac turned his head away and studied the doors of the van. "In what way," he asked, "Do you think I'm looking at you?"

Victor turned his own face away, "Like I'm wounded. That somehow I'm damaged . . . "

Mac interrupted, "Vic, no . . . that's not what..."

"Yes it is." Victor said dully. "It's like," He hesitated trying to find the words to express himself with, "like you're not looking at me like I'm your equal anymore. Or your partner even." Victor said firmly. "You see me as a victim. Someone who needs to be taken care of; looked after...Shit!" The threatening tears had finally spilled over. "Fuck it. I hate this shit. I hate feeling this way..." Unable to convey what he was feeling, Victor stopped talking all together and wiped at his running nose with the sleeve of his coat. He kept his head turned away, refusing to meet his partner's gaze. Mac could deny things all he wanted to Victor. But he knew what he had seen, even if it just was for a split second, in Mac's large, expressive eyes.

"Victor, if you won't let me see you, then can I at least hold you?" asked Mac softly.

Victor wiped furiously beneath his eyes, as if getting rid of the tears would wipe away the pain of simply being him.

"Yes," he whispered finally.

Mac manoeuvred himself so that his arms slipped over Victor, and he was sitting behind him. He pulled him back so that Victor was sitting between his bent knees, and Victor's head rested on Mac's left shoulder. "Tell me," said the young agent simply.

Still unable to synchronise his feelings with his thoughts Victor just started talking. "It's just that I'm in a place I've never been before, and I hate it. My whole life, I've always been the one to come to someone else's rescue. I was the perfect son, the best big brother, honour roll student and stellar rookie cop. I've never felt this shitty about myself, even when I was set up by my partners in the narc department and sent to jail. I knew that I was innocent of the charges, and I clung to that, knowing someday I would be proven right. Then the Director came along, offered me a job at the agency, and I was finally vindicated." Victor sniffed, and then wiped at his nose again using his sleeve as a Kleenex, "I've never been a victim before, Mac." Victor spat the word victim out like it was an obscenity. "Never. Not even when I was locked up the first time. During that stretch in prison I had at least my dignity. Now I don't even have that." He licked his lips and brought his own cuffed hands up to cover Mac's hands. He concentrated for a few seconds and then smiled into the darkness when he felt the comforting thrum of Mac's steadily beating heart against his back. Reassured, Victor spoke again. "Everything was going along just fine after the Director hired me. I mean that. Even when LiAnn broke up with me, I knew things would be okay, that I would be all right. But then we got this assignment and . . . "

Victor took a deep breath, "I'm 35 years old for Christ's sake, Mac. Thirty-five! I'm a fully-grown man. The bullshit I've gone through the last couple of weeks is not supposed to happen to someone my age! A young guy sure . . . but me? Fuck!" Victor swore again, irritated. The rights words seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth like peanut butter. "Christ Mac. Just listen to me. I'm so closed up that I don't even know how to tell you what I'm feeling. Except that I feel like all my emotions are wound up into a tangled string, and I can't figure out how to undo the knots." Victor let go and knuckled away the tears that he was silently shedding.

"I know how you feel, Victor. After were done with this mission, go and see someone; the right person will help you deal with things . . . " Mac squeezed his partner tighter against his chest. He spoke softly again, "A long time ago, when I was a kid back in Hong Kong, I had a lot of bad stuff happen to me too. Not quite the same as what happened to you, but similar crap." He kissed the top of Victor's head. "I don't have all of the answers, but I can tell you this . . . Over time the memories fade and the nightmares ease. Then one day you'll wake up and look in the mirror and you'll realise that what happened to you in Kensington isn't the first thing on your mind that morning. And from there everything gets better. The bad memories are eventually replaced by other, hopefully better ones."

Victor, wrapped up tightly in Mac's embrace, thought about the sage advice given to him by his partner. And he knew that Mac was right. All he had to do was get out of this latest predicament to let the healing process begin. Victor laced his fingers through Mac's. "You're all I need to get better." His comment was answered with another kiss to the top of his head. "You've never said anything about Hong Kong to me before. I'm sorry for anything that happened to you."

"Well it was a long time ago." Mac said evenly. He didn't care to dredge up dead memories of the streets of Hong Kong.

"Want to know what I was dreaming about?" Victor asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, tell me. It might help to talk about it," replied Mac.

"Okay." Victor agreed. "I dreamt that I was in a room that had hundreds of doors in it. Walker was chasing me and swinging his night-stick at me. I was running away from him, going from door to door looking for a way out of that room and away from him. But every time I opened a door, there was Gant, standing there, grinning and licking his lips, waiting for me. I'd slam the door and then go to the next. But Gant would be behind that door too. I couldn't escape. There was no getting out of that room or away from either one of them." Victor sniffed, though this time his runny nose was due to the cold temperature in the back of the van. "You woke me up just when Gant stepped out of the door way and into the room with me and Walker."

"Ugly stuff." Mac said softly.

"It was. And now I can't get my mind off of Matt." Victor said.

"Matt?" Said Mac, thinking that the mention of Matt had come from left field.

"Yeah, Matt. I can't help but think about how alone he must have felt all those years ago when he was standing on the street corner just trying to get by. And now, he's all alone again. Beat up and at the mercy of every twisted predator in that place. He's done enough time." Victor twisted his head so that he was looking directly up at Mac, his breath warm on Mac's face as he petitioned, "If I don't make it out of this mess alive, will you make sure he gets out of jail? Make the Director free him. She can do it, her tentacles reach far enough into the government."

Horrified at the thought of Victor not living through the ordeal they were about to face, Mac protested to his partner firmly, "Well, you're going to make it through this. So you can quit thinking otherwise. We'll go to the Director together."

Admiring Mac's optimistic attitude, Victor agreed. "Okay. We'll do it together."

Mac studied Victor's face for a minute, then leaned in and still cradling the man, kissed him deeply, gently working the tip of his tongue into Victor's mouth. They continued kissing for a while, then pulled apart mutually.

Mac said to Victor practically, "We should get some sleep. We're going to need our strength come morning."

"You're right," acknowledged Victor.

Both men settled themselves into a comfortable position. Mac resting his cheek on the top of Victor's head, closed his eyes and immediately drifted off to sleep. Victor however, did not even bother with closing his eyes. To shut them meant falling asleep, sleeping meant dreaming and to dream meant to relive his experiences at Kensington, something he did not want to do. Victor stared, wide-eyed into the unlit recesses of the van, comforted only by the even breathing and the steady heartbeat of his lover.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The van slowed and then came to a complete stop. Both men woke instantly. Victor could not remember dozing off, but he must have. Mac kissed Victor's cheek then pulled his arms up and over the man. Victor crossed over to the other side of the van so that he was sitting opposite of Mac, both men chilling quickly now that their body heat was no longer combined.

Mac extended his long legs and reached up into the air with his arms and Victor mirrored his partners' movements, each agent stretching, as best as they could manage with handcuffs on.

"I guess we're here," commented a sleep-weary Mac.

"Wherever that is," mumbled Victor back.

A door slammed up front and both men snapped their heads toward the direction where the sound had come from. They listened to gravel crunch underfoot, then the sound stopped. Suddenly the doors to the back of the van swung open, and the agents were flooded with bright, early morning sunlight. They each shaded their eyes from the glare of the warm sun by putting their hands to their brows.

Terrence, the driver looked at both men then said in a monotone, "We're here."

Mac looked at Victor and shrugging his shoulders, deadpanned, "See I told you."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The agents, tired and hungry, crawled out of the back of the van and stood up on achy legs. They were standing shoulder to shoulder in a broad strip of bright, early morning sunlight that shone calmly between two very regal, overgrown Douglas fir trees. Mac looked around and saw that they were totally surrounded by forest. Cedars, birch and more fir trees made up their prison walls instead of bulletproof glass and cement.

Victor heard the sound of trickling water. He turned his head in the direction of the sound and noted that the source of the pleasant gurgling was a small creek, about three feet deep and perhaps six feet wide that ran along the left side of the lodge. It flowed, Victor noted mentally, upstream. He elbowed Mac and whispered his observations out of the side of his mouth.

Mac nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes focused on the four, fifty-something men who were now standing at the entrance to the lodge, waiting for their arrival.

Victor took one final look around, saw the direction in which they had come, and then quickly compared it to the sun and the lodge, before he was roughly shoved in the direction of Mac, who was now walking toward the older men.

The two transport guys, as Victor had come to think of them, did not enter the lodge, but waited at the entrance. A man who appeared to be in charge handed the driver an envelope. Inside was their payment for doing the transporting. Once the envelope was in their hands, the men turned around and left, without thanking the man who had paid them.

The agents were unchained and each was given a bathroom break, then a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. Though no longer confined by the handcuffs, Mac and Victor were not left unguarded. Two of the four men sat at either door - there appeared to be only two- and kept their guns and eyes trained on the two as they ate.

Both Victor and Mac ate in silence, with the exception of the rude, loud smacking noises Mac was deliberately making. Victor suspected he was intentionally trying to irritate the four gents, as per his usual behaviour.

Once done with eating, the two were led to a living room and ordered to sit on a pair of plain wooden stools. They plopped down in them and the leader of the foursome spoke.

"Mac. Victor." The man looked at each agent as he said their name. "My name is Sal Martin. That man there," He pointed to another man, who was also greying at the temples, "Is William Lawson." Then he pointed to the judge who was guarding the main entrance to the lodge, "He's Austin Mayne and the other gentleman at the kitchen exit is Joel Biggart." Sal spread his arms wide and said, "Welcome to our little clubhouse." He smiled warmly at the seated men, as though he had just asked them to join their social circle or something. As he talked, William Lawson came up to the agents and snapped a Polaroid picture of each of them. The flash startled Mac, who had been looking around the room and Victor, ready for the camera, managed to give the photographer a very nasty scowl when it was his turn to have his photo taken.

As Sal talked on, Victor listened with one ear as he studied his surroundings. His eyes followed the 'photographer' and saw that the man was pinning up their photos on a corkboard that had many other pictures tacked to it. Victor squinted and focused on the pictures, he could just make out what they were; pictures of men.

Trophy shots

Victor looked away from the board and continued with his visual examination. As he looked at his surroundings, he was unaware that his hands were alternating with each other as they massaged out the dull pain from his wrists, soreness from where the handcuffs had bitten into them. In the corner of the living room there was a large animal cage. Big enough for a black bear . . .

For a man?

His eyes flicked from the cage to Mac, who glanced back at him briefly, then to Sal who was droning on about how he and Mac were the 'chosen ones'.

Finally the old man stopped speaking and stepped up closer to the agents. Leaning toward Victor he grabbed the agent's chin tightly and twisted Victor's head back and forth roughly as he examined the bruises and the bite mark. He pushed on the deep purple marks with the pad of his thumb and when Victor flinched reflexively, his body trying to pull away from the source that was causing him the pain, Sal laughed at him.

Victor did not dare to bring his hands up and break the grip Sal had on him, the three guns aimed for his heart, was enough of a deterrent. He knew that he could have easily beaten any one of the men in the room when it came to hand to hand or same weapon combat, but once again it was not a fair fight, two men vs. shot guns ensured that the younger agents did not try anything reckless.

The judge released him and said with a knowing sneer, "I see you've been playing with Gant and likely some of his inmate helpers. You're just his type of playmate. Big eyes, lots of lashes and husky."

"Fuck you" hissed Victor, embarrassed by the old man's all-too-correct assumptions.

Sal clicked his tongue. "Now, now Mr. Mansfield. No need for such vulgar language." He turned his attention away from Victor to Mac, the one he was interested in. He moved in close to the agent but did not grab him the way he had done to Victor. "I see, " he said to Mac. "That you're unmarked, as per my instructions."

Mac looked sideways at his partner and Victor returned a brief, innocent looking glance. Mac scowled at Sal, waiting for the man to get just a little bit closer to him.

The judge was wearing a side arm, tucked into the back of his designer jeans. Victor wouldn't have been able to see it, as Mac had only spotted the tell tale bulge when the man had leaned over and grabbed his partner. The look Mac had given Victor was a simple 'be ready' signal.

Victor had understood the signal.

And Mac thought that if he could just grab the blabbing judge and get at his piece then he and Victor could perhaps get out of this mess by using a hostage. There was a new, shiny hummer parked around the back of the lodge; Mac had seen it through a window. That would do nicely when it came time to get them out of the forest.

The judge leaned in and Mac grabbed him, lightning quick. Victor in the meantime, had jumped up and now went for the man closest to him, intent on wrestling his rifle away. However, things did not go quite the way the agents had thought it would. By the time the melee ended, Mac had managed to get the judge's sidearm pulled and trained against his temple while maintaining a choke-hold on him, but the three other judges had left Sal to his own devices and ganged up on Victor instead. The result was Victor lying flat on his back on the hard wood floor next to the grizzly bear rug looking extremely pissed off. The three judges' weapons were trained solely on him.

Sal gurgled out, "Good try, Ace, but no dice. Let me go, or your partner down there makes a book end for the rug he's next to."

Mac gave Sal an extra squeeze around his throat before releasing the man; he pushed the judge away from himself in disgust.

Victor glared up at the gunmen and, reaching up, he swept away two of the barrels pointing at his chest, using one hand for each. He stood and went back to the stool on which he had been seated, and lowered himself onto it.

Victor spoke to Mac out the side of his mouth. "Nice try partner." He said.

Mac, already sitting, casually shrugged his shoulders and said in return. "Well it was worth a shot anyway."

"Yeah." Victor murmured back.

Sal finished straightening out his clothes, then he turned to Mac and said matter of factly, as if they had never been interrupted by the scuffle, "You're younger, so you will go first. William and I will be tracking you."

Mac frowned at the judges and said sarcastically, "I'm honoured, your honor." Next to Mac, Victor snorted softly into the back of his hand.

Sal whirled toward Victor. "You think that's funny, do you?"

The agent stopped laughing. "Yeah. I do. You're going down, you and your old geezer friends!" Victor said impudently.

The judge's demeanour morphed instantly from calm to angry. He looked over his shoulder at the man named Joel and flicked his eyes toward Victor. The man answered the gesture by walking to the agent and standing beside him.

Victor looked between Sal and the man standing next to him. Wondering what was going to happen next.

Sal said to Victor, under control now, "On the contrary, you're the one going down," and then judge Joel raised his shotgun and struck Victor in the side of the head with the butt end of it.

Victor managed to raise his hands in a defensive manoeuvre, and say "hey . . . " before the rifle struck home.

Right after the blow, the agent lay on the floor, unconscious and unable to say anything at all.

Mac jumped up instantly yelling at the men, "GODDAMN YOU!" He dropped to his knees beside his partner.

Judge Joel pointed his rifle at Mac's chest and said coldly, "Sit down."

Mac, seething with anger, rose slowly and went back to the stool. He kept looking between Victor, the man who had rendered him unconscious, and Sal. The man, who had been introduced as William, stepped up to Mac and began talking to him. The two judges, Joel and Austin, shouldered their high-powered rifles and then put one hand each, under Victor's armpits. Together they dragged Victor, all 200 lbs. of his dead weight, toward the cage that was sitting in the corner.

Mac watched as his partner was unceremoniously carted away like a sack of turnips. Mesmerised, his eyes followed the narrow, crimson blood trail that marked the path to the cage. Victor's forehead had split open where the gun butt impacted with his head.

William cleared his throat; his voice was soft and refined and sounded as though he had been raised in a background that spoke of old money and a proper upbringing. "Never mind him, Mac. Right now, you need to be concerned about yourself. He smiled warmly at the young agent. William turned to Sal, totally unconcerned about Victor's current state, and said, "He's perfect. His trophy will be the prettiest one yet."

Sal nodded in agreement. He turned to glance back at Victor who was still unconscious and now safely settled in the cage, commenting back, "Too bad Gant and his goons messed up the other one. He's not very photogenic anymore."

Mac glowered back and forth between the judges and then said impatiently, "Are we going to get this show on the road or what?"

"Yes.Yes.Yes." William admonished, "We were just coming to that. Here's the rules . . . There are no rules, it's a free-for-all . . . meaning you do what you have to do to survive and we will track you down and kill you anyway." All four men laughed in unison.

Mac merely looked blandly and them and thought, So you think.

He turned his attention to his partner and stared at his lover's unmoving form. He swallowed hard and couldn't help but think that Victor was so still he almost looked dead.

Hopefully he'll manage to stay alive long enough for a rescue.

Mac knew that it was only a matter of time before the agency figured out that they were missing. They would assuredly put two and two together and find Victor and he eventually, hopefully before it was too late for the both of them.

Sal spoke, pulling Mac's thoughts away from Victor. He looked at judge Sal, who was saying, "You will get a half an hour head start . . . that's your only advantage.

Mac raised his eyebrows. "You mean," he asked unbelieving, "that I don't even get a weapon to help defend my self with."

"Of course not." William answered practically. "Were hunting you, not the other way around."

We'll see about that!

Mac grinned sarcastically at the judge then said insultingly, "Let me guess. You started out on this path by shooting the bunnies in the rabbit hutches back home on the estate when you were a kid."

Judge William paled, looking angry for the first time. "You impudent..."

Mac knew that he had hit some sort of a nerve. "Talk about shooting fish in a barrel."

Sal patted his friend's shoulder, trying to calm the sputtering man. "No need to get personal, Mac." He said. "The clothes on your back -- that's it. Now," Sal looked at his expensive, all weather hunting watch, "I suggest you get going, the clock is ticking." He smiled evilly at Mac.

The agent stood up, trying to decide which way to go. He was planning on going out the front door of the lodge, but then he looked toward the small door in the kitchen and spotted, on a counter near the door, an unopened wine bottle, and sitting next to it, a small red pen knife. He darted his eyes over the knife. Then with one last, wistful look at his partner, Mac said a silent goodbye to him and ran toward the kitchen door. He stumbled, grabbed the counter to stop his fall, then expertly palmed the small utensil. Flinging open the door dramatically, Mac ran outside.

The brisk morning air slapped him in the face. Stopping, Mac looked around again, orienting himself to the way the stream ran and the position of the sun in the sky. He compared it to when he and Victor had arrived earlier; this in turn told him which way was east and which way was west. Looking up at the tall Cedars and Douglas fir trees that surrounded the lodge, Mac noted them and filed away the tall timbers for later use as landmarks. Opening up his right hand, Mac examined the stolen tool, noting that it was a Swiss wine utensil and not actually a pocket knife.

It figures.

It didn't matter anyway, as there was a small knife in the casing, about the length of his pinkie that was very sharp. The knife was for cutting off the safety bands around the necks of the wine bottles. Along with the knife, there was also a corkscrew, which was sharp at the point. It too would come in handy.

o screw top bottles of wine for that group.

Mac pushed the corkscrew and knife back into place and then shoved it into his pants pocket. He was grateful that at least he had some sort of weapon now, no matter how small; he would be sure to make good use of it. Mac had grown up in the crowded streets of Hong Kong. Many a time he had been forced to rely on his sense of direction and his wits alone to get by especially when fleeing from someone he had just victimised by relieving them of their wallets. This situation wasn't so different from the jams he had got himself in way back when. With the exception that instead of running down alleys using buildings as his guide, he would have to use the trees. The forest was his city and the trees along with the stream were his landmarks. Mac picked a direction, and then he ran into the forest.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

25 Minutes Later:

"Okay." William said, slapping the bolt home on his rifle. "We're out of here." Joel and Austin, the two judges who would be tracking down Victor when the time came, sat at the kitchen table.

Sal dropped a Polaroid camera into his small knapsack, zipping it up he put it on. William was already wearing his knapsack. Both men tucked their side arms away into the appropriate holsters. Sal slung his rifle over his right shoulder and said excitedly, "Lets do it." He sounded as excited as a teenager who was attending his first rock concert.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

4 Hours Later:

Victor slowly emerged from his unconscious state and once he realised that he was actually awake, he cracked his eyelids just enough to discovered that he was being housed in a cage.

It has to be the one I saw in the corner of the living room.

The agent didn't dare open his eyes all the way, or even move his body for that matter. For one, he didn't want to call attention to himself, and two, his head ached so badly that it had been excruciatingly painful just opening up his eyes a fraction. Victor lay there, motionless by necessity, for several minutes listening to the two judges discuss the changing face of the juvenile criminal system.

The men debated in quiet, calm voices and sounded relaxed -- as if they didn't have a man they thought to be unconscious locked up in a bear cage. One would never have known, from the tone of their voices that two of their party was outside, right now, tracking and chasing another human being through a giant forest with the intent of finding and killing him and then, once that person was dead, the hunters would take a Polaroid picture of the dead body. Not only would the photograph serve as a trophy, but also as macabre documentation of a man's demise. This was a grisly business indeed, but the judges may as well as been waiting for their wives to return home from an afternoon of berry picking, judging by their manner.

Victor's stomach turned in time with the throbbing in his head, and as he lay there on the cold cage floor fighting the urge to vomit, he heard a shotgun blast. It came from a long way off, far into the distance. The dreaded sound pierced through him like a fiery arrow, his stomach rolling over and over, giving him no relief.

Right after the gun blast had sounded, Victor heard one of the judges say to the other casually, 'That's Sal's gun. Mr. Ramsey is a goner.'

Then the other one said back, 'He lived longer than the last guy."

With those words ringing through his already tender brain, Victor was unable to hold back his gorge. Doubly sick with concussion and with the thought that he would never see his best friend and lover again, he rolled over and got to his hands and knees. A couple of short seconds later his stomach let go, purging its contents onto the plain steel, grey coloured cage floor. Luckily, there wasn't a whole lot left in his tender stomach from breakfast. Less regurgitated contents meant less smell.

Victor's head throbbed twice as hard after puking, and he broke out into a heavy sweat. He was barely coherent; in fact he hardly knew what he was doing. Everything was so dream-like -- so surreal. He thought that he heard the judges shouting, but he couldn't be sure. Mixed in with the yelling, he could also just make out what he thought might be pounding on the door, but his troubled psyche could only focus on the fact that Mac was gone. With his head pounding faster than his own heartbeat, Victor rolled to his back and squeezed into one corner of the cage. Lying back down, he passed immediately into oblivion.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The two men at the table heard a gunshot blast. One of them commented on whose gun it was. Then they heard the sounds of vomiting and they knew that their own target had finally woken up. Judge Joel had turned to rebuke Victor for soiling his tiny cell, but then he heard gravel crunching underneath what had to be several pairs of feet.

Both men rose at the same time to check out the sound, each of them reaching for their own guns simultaneously, but before they could even leave the kitchen there was pounding on the front door and the tiny kitchen one as well.

Then without warning, both of the wooden doors were smashed open by a battering ram. People dressed in head to toe black swarmed over the two judges. They even wore black balaclavas. Once the older men were properly subdued, a petit red-haired woman stalked up to them. She was followed in by a tall, young Asian woman who looked pissed off and by a large bald black man, whose expression was unreadable. The flame haired beauty stood directly in front of the judges, she was dressed in a tight, black catsuit that showed her figure off.

Both of the judges eyed her body appreciatively.

Standing only inches away, she bent over at the waist and spoke into Austin Mayne's face, "Now gentlemen," She said calmly, "Just where the HELL are my agents?" Her voice came out as sharp as a hunting knife.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac's Run:

The air burst from of his tired lungs in large puffs and hugging a large cedar for support, Mac panted heavily.

I'm using up too much energy. I have to pull myself together.

He had been running full bore through the dense forest for more than 20 minutes. Mac knew that running hard the way he had been doing would only bring the two hunters to him sooner, and he would rather that he saw them later.

Relax Ramsey. Relax.

Mac calmed himself and tried coming up with some sort of a game plan as he rested. He had wasted most of his energy stores by doing a great 'chicken running with its head cut off' routine. Now, Mac flopped down on a large semi-hollow log and cradled his head in his hands. He tuned out the gurgling streams hypnotic meter. Somehow, he needed to cover the tracks of where he had been and try to turn the tables on the hunters. He needed to start tracking them down instead. It was only a matter of time before one or both of the judges found him. He assumed that the judges would be tracking him together, and would only split up if the trail led two separate ways. Mac needed to divide them. That way he would have a fighting chance at conquering them. As he sat there resting, a plan began to formulate. He was somewhere deep in the forest -- exactly where he had no idea. He only knew that he was upstream from the lodge. Mac looked up into the sky, found his directions, but decided that before he went back to the lodge he would first have to get rid of the judges. As soon as they were out of the way, Mac intended on making his way back as fast as possible to Victor.

No longer tired from his run, he jumped up and began to set up his scheme. Having no watch, Mac was unable to tell the time, so all he could do was estimate that he had about another half-hour before the judges found him. Standing on the fallen log, he looked up and reaching up high, broke off a healthy, green branch from a maple tree. Mac walked the length of the log to the creek, where he squatted down and used the small knife to strip the leaves and peel the limb. Making good use of the knife, he whittled a sharp point at one end of the bare branch. He was very careful to let all of the debris fall into the water so it would be carried down the stream; leaving no evidence for the judges to see. He walked the log back to the still bushy maple and standing below it he looked up again, smiling into the foliage.

Climbing the tree proved to be no obstacle for Mac. Once up amongst the branches, he stashed the makeshift spear safely within the sturdy limbs of the tree. Clambering down again, Mac finished setting the rest of his booby trap, and then he set about covering his tracks near the tree and log. Once done, the young agent walked away in a different direction to lay out a false trail that would be sure to separate the hunters from the safety of each other's company.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

40 minutes later:

The judges finally picked up what they thought had to be Mac's trail. The men had been following him for quite sometime. Both came to a halt in the still forest at the same time, and William squatted down to examine a crushed fern frond. He looked toward the other direction and noted that there was also a partial footprint in the wet mud, indicating that the trail led in two different directions.

"He's splitting us up," declared William, the tone of his voice sounded almost proud.

Sal pulled out his water bottle and took a drink. Replacing the bottle he asked, "Which way do you want?"

William stood up, his knees creaking as he rose. "I'll go left and follow the crushed fern. You take the footprint."

"Damn," Sal said.

"What?" asked William.

"I was just thinking about Joel and Austin. I knew this punk was going to give us a good run for our money. Too bad those two ended up drawing Mansfield. In his condition, he won't be able to put up very much of a fight."

William took a drink from his own water bottle, "Yeah," he agreed. "We definitely got the better of the two. Mind you it's not Joel and Austin's fault that Gant can't keep . . . er.." He coughed lightly, " . . . keep his hands off of the merchandise." William wiped his sweaty brow with a black linen handkerchief.

Sal looked at his partner. "Yes, well, be that as it may. I don't know how they will manage to get a decent challenge out of tracking down a man who is already half dead."

William laughed. "Oh, don't worry for them. They will make it interesting somehow. Just like you did the last time when you ended up drawing the dud."

Sal joined his partner in laughter. "Same bet as before?" he asked jovially.

"Sure," said William. "The first one to bag the target gets to pick the restaurant. Lunch is on the loser."

Both men continued to chuckle as one went left and the other right. Neither man even imagining that there would be any other outcome other than one that ended with Mac belly up and dead.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac pulled off his white T-shirt; his skin instantly reacted and raised an army of tiny goose bumps. He stuffed the shirt into one end of the log that he was standing on and then briskly rubbed his hands up and down his arms trying warm himself. Mac was tempted to put his shirt back on to help fight the chill in the air, but he knew he would just have to grin and bear it for a while; white could be seen from a long way off in the forest. Mac knew he was better off with wearing his natural skin tone while hiding up in the large maple tree, and just to be on the safe side, he reached into the stream and grabbed up a handfull of mud to enhance his natural camouflage. He rubbed the icy muck up and down his arms and then made a few quick strokes under his eyes, over his cheekbones, and added one stripe over the length of his nose. Mac looked down at his bare chest, he smiled at the dark thatch of chest hair that covered him. Glad for once about the thick growth. The dark hair meant that at least he did not have to rub the gritty mud over his chest. He rinsed his hands in the running water then ran them down the back of his pants, hastily drying them. He took one final look around the quiet forest before nimbly climbing up the large, overgrown tree. He sat in the tree as unmoving as a spider lying in wait for a fly. Mac controlled his breathing; he did not want the clouds of visible air that his warm breath made when it greeted the bracing air of the outdoors to be seen. The hunters may have been smart, but Mac knew he was smarter, because his instincts for survival were stronger then theirs. They'd continually been sharpened, starting from the time he was a small boy and alone on the streets of Hong Kong.

The judges were overconfident, they believed they were invincible, and that was their Achilles heel. It would surely lead to their downfall.

As Mac patiently waited, his thoughts drifted to Victor. He wondered if Vic was awake yet or if, knowing him like he did, Vic had forced the other two judges into cracking him over the head again, maybe killing him before he could even get out of the cage. Mac silently hoped that his lover was all right.

He has to be.

Mac certainly could be of no help to him from the bush.

Holding the small knife ready in one hand and the home-made spear in the other, Mac smiled into the large leaves at the images of himself and Victor. A twig snapped, pulling him out of his vivid daydream. Mac mentally pushed Victor aside and steeled his body to remain motionless. He looked down and saw that Judge William was below him at the side of the fallen log, hunched over and examining a broken salal plant.

The sturdy green plant had been deliberately stepped on by the cunning agent.

Feeling very much like 'Rambo', Mac slowly lifted the spear, took aim and threw it with all of his might. He had intended only on distracting the judge with the spear, planning on using the element of surprise as his real weapon in overpowering the armed, older man, but to Mac's complete astonishment the homemade device actually penetrated the judges flesh. The older man screamed out in pain, then immediately passed out. Mac scrambled down the tree and crouched next to the judge, snorting in disgust at the unconscious man.

He can dish it out, but can't take it. Figures!

Mac had no sympathy for one fourth of the quad of deranged lawmen. He none too carefully extracted the spear from the judge's thigh; the judge shuddered, but did not wake up. Mac grabbed the small knapsack the judge was wearing and yanked it off of the man. Rummaging around, he pulled out various items he thought would be useful to him and his quest. He came across a small first aid kit, Mac would rather have let the man die, but he was not a cold-blooded killer. So using the knife, Mac cut open the hole in the pants and examined the judge's wound. He determined that the judge was not hurt too badly. The wound was only oozing slowly. Mac's lucky shot had not hit anything crucial.

"Don't worry," Mac said to the unconscious man as he poured disinfectant over the puncture. "You'll live."

Mac finished the last of the bandaging then rolled the judge over. Using the rope that he had found in the knapsack, he bound the still unconscious man hand and foot using knots that could not be untied. The ropes would have to be cut off in order to be removed. Mac dragged the man to a small rock cave that he had found in the vicinity, rolled him into the darkness and then sealed the man in by covering the entrance with fallen boughs he had gathered beforehand.

Pulling out an energy bar that he had scrounged, Mac tore the wrapper off and wolfed it down. He ate the bland bar not because he was hungry but because he would need the carbohydrates to keep his body warm. Before he had 'disposed' of the judge, Mac had taken the man's outer, lightweight hunting jacket and his sidearm. The agent put the jacket on and double-checked the clip in the 9mm automatic. Emptying the contents out of a large zip lock bag, he put the gun inside the thick plastic then sealed and pocketed the whole neat little package. He walked along the log to the stream, and then gingerly stepped off of it into the ice-cold water. The agent blew out his breath and his entire body gave an involuntary shudder in defence against the biting chill of the swift running stream. Mac noiselessly sank to his belly and let the current carry him downstream, toward the lodge.

The jacket that Mac had pilfered from the fallen judge did little in the way of keeping him warm against the stream's cold grasp. He floated with the current for about ten minutes before he was just too cold to go on. Looking ahead and to his left, Mac spied a large depression in the side of the six-foot bank; he swam toward the spot. It would be the perfect hiding place for him while he tried to warm up and think through the second half of his hazardous scheme. He stood up to examine the 'cave' and discovered it was little more than a hole in the wall of the bank, nevertheless, he pushed aside the hanging grass and tree roots and sat down inside the small hollow. The cramped space would heat up faster than a large area anyway. Mac let go the long grass and roots that he had been holding open, they fell back together and created a thick curtain that concealed his hiding spot nicely. He rubbed his hands through his hair and pushed the water through it. His hands were numb from the cold and as he was busy blowing on them to warm them up, Mac heard a twig snap. Freezing mid-blow, Mac listened intently.

No way. He can't be up there.

Mac continued to wait and listen. He heard more undergrowth crunching followed by the sound of clothes rustling. Everything was slightly muffled because of the noise of the stream, but Mac could still hear the faint sounds. After a few seconds, the cold agent stared disbelieving through the fringe of greenery at a large, arcing stream of urine. The judge was standing on the bank directly above him, and pissing into the water. The agent could not believe his good luck.

The gods are with me today!

Carefully he reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out the 9mm, bag and all. Breaking the seal of the zip-lock, Mac reached in and removed the gun. He pushed off the safety and waited for the stream of urine to end. Once it did, Mac counted off 10 silent seconds before he parted the foliage that was concealing him and cautiously made his way out of his tiny hiding place. He slowly rose to his feet and hoped that the trickling stream would cover any small noise that he might make. Mac took a deep breath then stood up and peeked over the edge of the bank. Judge Sal was standing with his back to the stream sipping some water. The agent smiled, and then without giving a warning shot the unaware man in each calf. He was careful to aim so that his bullets would pass through the meat of the muscle cleanly. Despite his desires, Mac did not want to hit anything vital such as an artery. The agent only wanted to impede the older man; the judge had to live so that he would face trial and ultimately imprisonment. All of the judges would get back a small dose of their own bad medicine.

The judge immediately fell to the ground. He writhed around in pain and accompanied the frantic movements with screams.

Mac pulled himself up from the water to the ground and went over to where the judge was. First he pulled a length of rope from his pocket and trussed the judge in the same manner as he had done to the other hunter. Then he hastily patched up the gunshot wounds. Mac dragged the man to the base of a large birch tree and left him there. Squatting down he removed the man's side arm and knapsack.

"You're lucky it was me who shot you. Victor would have made sure he killed you." Mac said simply as he pulled a Polaroid camera out of the knapsack. Standing up, Mac ignored the older man's useless threats and nasty epithets and took a picture of the bound man.

"Evidence." Mac said simply. All of a sudden, he heard his name being called out. Snapping his head toward the sound, Mac grabbed up both guns -- one in each hand -- and hunkered down next to the injured man. The call came again, and this time Mac recognised the voice; it belonged to Murphy. He stood up smiling. "Over here" He called out in reply.

Seconds after he had called out a response, Mac was greeted by both Murphy and Camier` in black commando gear. Mac could not help but smile at the sight of the cleaners in head to toe black. His smile quickly faded; he asked Murphy, "How's Victor?" as soon as the men were within earshot.

Murphy looked up into Mac's eyes and replied honestly, "I don't know. He was lining the bottom of a bear cage last I saw him."

"SHIT!" was all Mac said in return.

"Come on Ramsey." Mr. Camier piped up optimistically, "The sooner we get back to the lodge, the sooner you'll find out about Mansfield."

On the hike back to the lodge, Murphy filled Mac in on how LiAnn and the Director had figured out that the agents were missing, and how they'd traced them to the remote cabin. Mac nodded his head in all the right places, but he was only half listening to the Cleaners. Mac could not stop thinking of Victor and the condition he had been in the last time he had seen him.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

As soon as Mac saw some of the lodge's wooden logs peeking through the thick forest, he started running for the building. Murphy and Camier just let him go. They needed to find the head of the armed crew to tell him the whereabouts of the other two judges anyway. All four men would be handed over to the RCMP, who would then promptly arrest and charge all of the middle-aged men.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac burst in through the front door. "Victor," he shouted as he darted his eyes from the empty bear cage to all around the room. His anxious gaze rested on LiAnn, who was smiling at him, and then the Director, who was frowning at him.

The women were standing shoulder to shoulder, and from behind them Mac heard a weak, "I'm here, Mac. I'm okay."

The ladies parted. In back of them, on a wooden stool, sat Victor. The slightly dazed agent was haloed from behind by a large, late-afternoon sunbeam that was shining down through the skylight directly above him.

Mac had never seen an angel before, but he knew that he was gazing upon one now.

Victor smiled as best as he could manage. He looked up at his partner, eyes shining in the afternoon sun. His pupils were hugely dilated, his head ached, and he was holding a cotton compress over the cut on his head. Victor's deep green eyes were surrounded by dark purple and he was bruised on both cheekbones. The bite mark left by the inmate at Kensington stood out at the corner of his mouth and partially ringed his slightly swollen lips.

But none of it mattered to Mac.

All he could think of was how beautiful a sight his partnerhis lover was. He ignored LiAnn and her greeting. Not caring who was in the room or whom was watching them, Mac walked right up to Victor and pulled the seated man to himself and hugged him fiercely. He pushed Victor's head against his belly and held the agent tightly. Mac leaned down and kissed the crown of short, bristly hair at the top of Victor's head. "God I'm so glad to see you, Victor," he said huskily. "I thought that you were dead."

Victor, still holding the compress, brought his free arm around and circled Mac's waist with it. "Me too, Mac. I heard the gunshots and I thought that they had got you."

Mac looked up at the Director, who was smiling at him, then at LiAnn who was frowning at him. No one else was in the lodge with them. The director had sent everyone else away with a simple sweep of her hand. "Well it looks like we solved this one, boys," she said.

"Yeah. Only you left the rescue a little bit late didn't you?" replied Mac angrily.

"Yes," was all the Director said. She signalled to LiAnn, "I guess I did." Then both women walked out together.

Mac, still clutching Victor to his body, watched them leave and once the door closed behind them, he squatted down and held onto either side of his partner's face lightly. He looked up, and locking eyes with his lover, he whispered hoarsely, "I love you Victor. Watching those cons and the judges hurt you that way . . . " Choked with emotion, Mac's voice faltered. ". . . It was more than I could take. I hope I never have to see that again." Before he could give Victor time to reply, Mac gently put his lips to his partner's and pressed him into a slow, deep kiss.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Two months after Kensington:

Mac left Victor's kitchen and went into the living room. In one hand he held two long necked bottles of beer and in the other he had a bowl of popcorn. He put the food and drink down on the coffee table then crossed over to the television set and turned off the 'Dirty Harry' movie that he and Victor had been watching.

When had Victor mentioned needing some munchies, Mac had eagerly volunteered to make some popcorn. He had untangled his long legs from Victor's shorter ones and immediately gone straight to the kitchen. When it came to popcorn, Mac preferred the old-fashioned way of cooking it. He preferred to use the heavy pot and some oil on top of the stove method.

The reason Mac had offered to make the snack in the first place was because he didn't have the heart to tell Victor that he'd never really cared for Clint Eastwood or Dirty Harry. Bruce Lee movies were more to his taste, which he knew Victor did not care for at all.

Pulling over a plain wooden chair from the dining room, Mac placed it across the coffee table from Victor and sat down. He smiled at his lover, who was presently sleeping peacefully on his back with his arms folded across his chest as if to ward off the bad dreams, thus protecting himself in his slumber.

The apartment was dark; all the lights were out except for a small, 30 watt bulb that lit up one of Victor's paintings. The picture light gave off just enough of a glow to allow Mac to see the slumbering older man. As he sat, he stared at his lover, studying his profile. There was still some light bruising visible on Victor's temple; leftovers from one of the judges cracking him in the side of the head with the butt of a rifle.

In addition to the bruise, there were several small scars whose scabs had long since healed over and fallen away. Victor's outer shell was healing well enough, but unfortunately the same could not be said for his inner self. Mac was very aware that the visions and dreams still popped up now and again to haunt his lover; painting vivid pictures in his psyche of his time spent as the victim rather than the rescuer.

Victor was, at least, on this particular night, seemingly in state of rest. He appeared serene, and free from the nightmares that had plagued him off and on for the last couple of months since they had left the lodge and the forest behind them, far to the north.

Mac leaned forward and grabbed one of the beers he had brought from the kitchen. He put the bottle to his lips and took a deep swallow of the ice-cold liquid. Leaning back so that his chair was balancing on two legs, he used his bare left foot as an anchor by resting it against the coffee table and continued to watch his lover of just two short months as he slept.

Victor was unaware of the audience.

Sitting in the dark, Mac took another drink of his beer and mused about how Victor had finally got Matt released from prison.

The ex-cop, determined to see justice done had cajoled and argued until the Director, tired of his nagging, finally relented. She pulled every string she had and called in every petty favour, until two weeks later she finally received confirmation that Matt would be released early from his sentence. Once released, Matt had spent the better part of the month in a civilian hospital before being released into the care of his family.

The Director had put up with Victor's nagging only because it was her way of apologizing -- without actually having to say the words -- for all of the bad things that had happened to him while inside. She knew they were things she was partially responsible for, especially the whole fiasco with Walker and his crazy thoughts.

Mac belched lightly, and let himself be taken back to the day when Matt was released from prison.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The day Matt Vandenburg was finally to be released from the walls of Kensington, Victor had made sure that he was there to see it. Matt was to be brought out of the prison's own private infirmary and put directly into a waiting ambulance for immediate transfer to Sacred Mercy Hospital. The ambulance was waiting for him on the inside; Victor and Matt's young wife Mary-Anne, were waiting for him on the outside. Just past the main concrete and steel gates.

Mary-Anne stood next to Victor, silent and anxious for herself and their small daughter Anna to join her husband on the ambulance ride to his new accommodations.

Victor held the couple's toddler in his arms he was keeping his emotions safely hidden away, deep inside of himself; inaccessible to all.

Mac was waiting too, but he was a short distance away from then, sitting in his car. He watched, his face expressionless, from the warmth of the BMW. While his partner stood resolutely in the cold drizzle, holding a tiny umbrella over Matt's little girl and Mary-Anne stood under her own umbrella.

Anna, pleased to be outside, was dressed for the weather; she had on a shiny pink rain slicker, hat and boots. Victor however, wore nothing but a kangaroo coat to protect him from the elements, allowing himself become drenched, still trying to punish himself for Matt's situation.

Finally, after waiting for over a half an hour, the big gates moaned and then began to slowly creak open. Eventually they grew wide enough to let the emergency vehicle carrying Victor's young friend to freedom through them. The ambulance stopped next to the trio and the double doors at the back opened up. Mary-Anne took Anna from Victor's warm arms and standing on her toes she kissed him on his cheek. Mac could see that she had said something to him after the kiss, but what, he couldn't say for sure. Victor never mentioned what it was. However, Mac was sure he had seen her mouth the word 'angel' to him. The girls disappeared into the back of the vehicle, the doors slammed shut and without any further ceremony, pulled away.

Victor had stood in the rain long after the ambulance had disappeared. So long in fact that Mac, who had been trying to give his partner some space, finally got out of the car and walked over to his lover. Victor turned his head at the sound of the door slamming, then quickly turned his face away from Mac and hastily knuckled away the tears that had been falling with the rain.

Not fooled in the least by Victor, the younger man simply stood behind his wet lover and wrapped his arms around his waist. Mac pulled Victor in tight to his still warm body; back against chest. Victor patted the backs of Mac's hands but otherwise he did not move or speak.

"He's safe now," Mac said softly.

"I know," came the reply.

"You saved his life and got him sprung early from prison. There's nothing more you can do. The rest is up to him you know."

"I know," parroted Victor, again.

"Then why are you so sad?"

"I don't know. Maybe because I look at Matt and see that in my whole career as a cop, he was the only success. One person out of hundreds." Victor squinted out into the distance, his eyes on the empty prison yard. He focused in on the bench where he and Matt had first sat, all those weeks ago. "My career as a cop was a failure. I'm a failure, and it hurts to know that."

Mac let the silence sit with them for a bit. After a while, he kissed Victor's cheek - and the agent smiled - but Mac couldn't see it. He rested his chin over Victor's shoulder and tried to pick out what it was exactly, that Victor was looking at. "It's time to let it go, Victor. It don't mean nothin' no more. Besides, Matt wouldn't think you're a failure. Would he?" Mac kissed Victor's cheek again.

"No . . . " said Victor huskily, "I suppose not." He took in a deep breath of the damp air and blew it out, watching the small clouds that were made as his warm breath hit the cool air. "Come on, Mac, let's go home." Victor broke out of Mac's loving embrace and started to the car, his dejection uneased. . .

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac put the empty beer bottle down and picked up the other one that lay beside it on the table. The popcorn was long since forgotten. He leaned back in his chair again and turned his thoughts to the corrupt judges. Four men who had thought that they were untouchable and above the law . . .

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Seven weeks after Kensington:

Three weeks after being rescued, and two weeks after Victor had allowed Mac back into his bed, The two agents had received an early morning call from Director, at Victor's apartment. Both of them were instructed to 'Get your asses down here. Pronto.'

The men reluctantly rose from their warm bed and slowly made themselves ready to go to work on a Saturday.

When they arrived, LiAnn was already there, sitting in the centre chair, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the boy's newly found relationship. Victor and Mac sat, without argument, in their usual places. Shortly after that The Director deigned to make her entrance. She stormed over to the long table and dropped four thick, beige file folders in front of the agents. She was angry and frustrated, all three could see that easily enough.

"Austin Mayne, Joel Biggart, Sal Martin and William Laslo. All four, as of yesterday, charged with numerous counts of first degree murder and two counts of conspiracy to commit first degree murder." The Directors eyes briefly flicked to Mac and Victor as she said, "The crown counsel has also tossed in several counts of 'abuse of human remains.' " She began to pace back and forth in front of the long table.

"The photographic and forensic evidence alone had all four dead to rights." She stopped pacing and went over to her desk, picked up a small remote and pressed a button. She clicked through several slides, which showed the incriminating evidence against the judges.

"All four of them had foolishly photographed the dead men before and after their. . . " The Director cleared her throat, " . . . their untimely demises. They also video taped several of the hunting expeditions and then showed their 'home movies' to other members involved in the racket. The block of judges were going down for this, no doubt about it."

Mac interrupted the Director and asked, "What the hell do you mean by were going down?"

Plainly irritated, The Director turned to all three agents and said, "This morning all four men were found dead in their cells." She clicked the remote again, and the large screen divided into four parts, a picture of each man hanging shown. "Each man was hanged by his own hand using the sheets from their cots. It appears, they had a suicide pact with each other."

LiAnn stared at the gruesome photos indifferently, and said just as dispassionately, "Well, at least they saved the taxpayers the expense of a trial."

Victor swept his eyes over the four men. His gaze rested on the judge who had hit him in the head, splitting it open. Unconsciously he fingered the scab at his temple.

"You have anything to say, Victor?" the Director asked him.

Victor looked up at his boss, "Yeah. Good riddance?" Covering his emotions over the men who tried to murder both he and Mac. Victor dropped his hands into his lap and examined the dry skin on the cuticle of his thumb.

"Mac? You're unusually quiet." Commented LiAnn, looking to her right, directly at him.

Mac didn't turn his attention to LiAnn, instead he just kept studying Victor's profile. After a few seconds, unable to read his lover's expression, he turned his gaze toward his boss. "I wanted to watch those bastards go down for this . . . " he shrugged his shoulders. " . . . but at least this way they can't get off with an insanity plea or some other bogus way, like on a technicality." Disgusted with the injustice, he stood up and started to walk away, Victor stood too and started to follow.

The Director called them both back. "Hold on you two." The men turned around in unison, "I'm not done yet."

They walked back to their seats and sat, waiting expectantly for the other shoe to drop.

Once they had sat down again she said, "Thomas Walker's . . . " Victor's unconscious flinch at the name did not go unnoticed by her, " . . . body was found early this morning." Clicking the remote, a crime scene photo of the burial site appeared. "In a shallow grave about five kilometres north of Kensington Pen. He was discovered by our own people." The crime scene photo disappeared and another one appeared on the screen. She went through several slides of the scene and the evidence as she talked. "Even though he was badly decomposed, there was enough left of him to determine that is tongue had been cut out and going by the prelim exam from our body snatchers at the site, his throat had been cut." She stopped the slide on a face shot of Walker, his bright blue eyes and light blond hair made him look boyishly handsome, almost naive.

Victor, however, knew differently.

"Thomas Walker was a mentally disturbed, obsessed man, whose inability to tell the difference between reality and fantasy had ultimately been the cause of his down fall." She clicked to another shot of Walker in his prison uniform, striking a formal pose, most likely taken at the time he was hired at Kensington.

Victor blanched at the sight of Walker. All of the horrible memories of Kensington and what he had done - the rape, bartering his own body for information - came flooding back to him. He was nauseous at the thought.

"I want the three of you to meet Dobrinski at Walker's apartment." She looked at her watch and said, "He should be there in about an hour and a half. Toss the place and remove anything that might connect Walker with the Agency. The local cops won't be there to check it out until late this afternoon." None of the agents asked the Director how she knew the cops wouldn't show up until after they had done their bit. They sat silently in their chairs waiting for more. Finally the Director clicked her tongue and said, "Now, you can go."

The trio rose and as they were leaving the Director handed the address to the apartment to LiAnn as she passed by.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Having just finished his second beer, Mac stood up and stretched then went back into the kitchen for another.

Victor was still sleeping peacefully, as if having Mac watching over him could somehow ease his dreams.

Familiar with Victor's apartment, he opened the fridge door and pulled out another bottle. After he had shut it, his eyes rested on a photo stuck to the door of the fridge. He had forgotten that he and Victor had even posed for the picture. It was one LiAnn had taken of her male partners just after they had completed a difficult mission. It was by Mac and Victor's co-operation with each other that they had been able to rescue LiAnn and an entire Biotech lab from a bomb. A bomb that had been planted by a terrorist group whose freakish leader had a death wish. The picture marked the first time that the guys had to work together without her to buffer their differences. A single photograph showing them smiling with their arms around each others shoulders, happy together; and taken long before they had even imagined they could be friends, let alone intimate lovers.

A solitary picture, for which Victor had at some point gone to LiAnn. Victor had taken the time to put it in a small magnetic frame in order to display it openly on his white fridge door. Looking at the photo made Mac wonder. Why, if they had only just recently fallen in love, did Victor have a photograph of just the two of them on his fridge, when there was nothing else taking up space there? A photograph that had been taken over a year ago, well before the events at Kensington . . .

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

LiAnn deftly picked the lock to Walker's apartment. She twisted the knob and gave a light push to open the door. The whole B&E operation took all of two minutes, maybe even less. She stood up, dusted off her knees and went into the small bachelors' suite. When she reached to the centre of the room, she stopped in her tracks and stared around the place. She had been followed in by Mac, who actually bumped into her statue-like form. He had started to say something to her before cutting of his own words when he saw the decor of Walkers Apartment.

Victor, the last to enter, carefully closed the door behind himself. Dobrinski had phoned LiAnn's cell earlier to say that he was stuck in traffic and that the team should go ahead without him. He would see them later at the agency. Victor walked into the room and stood beside his partners, frozen at the sight of Walkers choice of wallpaper.

"OH . . . MY . . . GOD . . . !" Exclaimed LiAnn.

"HOLY SHIT," was all Mac could think of to say.

Victor finished by saying, "I think I'm going to be sick!" Then he promptly fulfilled his prediction by running to the small bathroom to his left and vomiting the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Both partners left Victor alone with his own devices while he was in the bathroom. He wouldn't want company in there with him anyway. Instead, the two of them stood together, speechlessly absorbing just how deep Thomas Walker mental illness was. He'd been sicker than anyone realised. Mac pulled a small state-of-the- art video camera from the inside of a large black canvas bag and started filming while LiAnn finally shouted to Victor, asking him if he was all right.

When Victor finally emerged from the bathroom he was wiping his mouth with the hem of his T-shirt, leaving it untucked. He answered flatly, "Yeah, I'm okay. Let's get to work."

Mac was busy filming the walls of the tidy, but musty apartment, and on those walls were hundreds and hundreds of pictures of Victor. Walker had pasted up photos' of Victor everywhere; all of them appearing to have been taken on the sly.

"I don't remember ever seeing a camera," commented Victor as he started to pull down the photographs. Some were clear and others were slightly grainy and some even looked like they had been video grabs from the prisons' cameras. He shoved his handful of photos into the canvas bag.

"Hey Mac." LiAnn called. "Come and get a shot of this." She was holding up a picture of both Victor and Mac that had been taken in the prison yard. Walker had used a red felt pen and drawn a circle with a line through it around Mac's head.

Mac focused the camera in on the picture and then commented dryly, "Well, I guess we know what he really thought of me. " Every photo that contained Mac had the same markings over his head and face.

"Guess so." Agreed LiAnn as she dropped another stack of pictures into the bag.

LiAnn went over to where Walker's bed was. She examined the devotional that he had erected to Victor's image on the wall above the head of his bed and to the right, on the wall that was next to his bed. She leaned in and looked a little closer at the 8 x 10's then, and blushing, she cleared her throat and called Victor over. "Ah . . . Vic. I think you should handle the shrine." She walked away and started tearing down the pictures where Victor had been working.

Victor stood and stared at the wall space that Walker had devoted to his nude image. Walker had the photo's arranged in just such a way that Victor was reminded of his sister's walls and the space she had dedicated to her teen beat 'pin-up boys'. The guard had done much the same thing with him, except that the posters Alice had put up weren't of naked men. Walker had somehow managed to take pictures of him while he was showering, changing and even some of him sleeping. There were some photos of him taken when he was sleeping where he had kicked his blanket away and could be seen in his underwear. It seemed that Walker was just as fond of those shots as any other.

Mac went to Victor and said from behind him, "God. You look just like a Calvin Klein underwear model." He was staring at one particular image, taken as Victor slept. In it, his blanket thrown off and his body was stretched taught with his arms above his head, crossed at the wrists. Mac thought that Victor had never looked more beautiful. His features, softened by slumber, made him look ten years younger.

"Yeah, well . . . " Victor tore down one of several copies of that particular shot, "I wish I had the money one of those boys make." He walked away and stuffed some more of the embarrassing photos into the bag.

Mac looked over his shoulder, made sure no one was paying attention to him, and then reached out and quickly tore down another copy of the 'sleeping in underwear' photo. He folded it up and shoved it into jacket pocket.

Lots of the photos were on real photographic paper, but most, like the one Mac had just pilfered, were simple scan copies on paper. He shut off the camera and after putting it away he started searching Walker's drawers, leaving Victor and LiAnn to finish stripping the walls. In Walkers underwear and sock drawer, Mac came across a video in a case marked, Vic and Gant. Knowing he should mention it, but not quite able to make himself, Mac stuck the tape in a large pocket on the inside his jacket. He quickly shut the drawer and went on to the next one not daring to say anything about his find.

After about another 40 minutes, the team had completely cleaned out the bachelor's suite. They wore latex gloves, so the local police coming across one of their fingerprints was a highly unlikely scenario. Mac led the way out, followed by Victor, leaving LiAnn to lock up.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Back at the agency, the three of them turned over all the papers and photos they had found, along with two diaries. Victor was relieved to see that the Director handed over all of the pictures of him to Dobrinski, who he knew could be counted on to destroy them and not pass them around for the rest of the agency employees to see. The agents were dismissed after that. LiAnn walked out ahead of the men and had already disappeared from the deserted halls by the time Victor and Mac got out of doors themselves.

About half way down the hall, Mac turned to Victor and said, "Oh, I still have one of the videos of the apartment, he pulled out a small blank tape, "I better turn it in."

"You want me to wait?" Asked Victor.

Mac smiled at his lover, "No, why don't you head home? You don't mind if I just hang by myself tonight? I got some stuff I want to do."

Victor looked at Mac, surprised. Lately they had been spending all of their spare time together. Then he smiled. Actually, he kind of wanted to be alone too. He had a few mundane chores to do like grocery shopping and cleaning up his place anyway. "No, I don't mind. There's some stuff I want to catch up on too." He looked left and then right, and when he was sure no one was watching, he planted a quick kiss on Mac's lips. "I'll call you tomorrow afternoon. Ok?"

"Okay. Talk to you then." Mac waited until Victor was out of sight before going back into the office. Luckily the Director and Dobrinski were still looking through the papers. Mac cleared his throat, and the two of them looked up.

"Yes Mac." Said the Director.

"I have a couple of questions for you regarding the investigation."

"Ohhhh, such an astute pupil." The director cooed, "What are they?"

Mac licked his lips and approached the table. "I want to know what's going to happen to Gant. Is he going to be charged for his part in the scheme?" The look on both Dobrinski's and the Director's faces told him that he was not going to like the answer.

The Director said to Dobrinski without looking at him. "Take this stuff upstairs. I'll meet you there in a few minutes." Dobrinski did as he was told and gathered up everything before he left the room.

Once he was gone, The Director said to Mac, "We couldn't find any proof linking Gant to the judges and the hunting humans racket." She held up her hand to stop Mac from speaking. "I know, I know. You and Victor are right when you say he's dirty, but without the proof, the courts can do nothing. His computer came up empty and there's no paper trail from him to the judges. The four inmates you say were helping him are denying everything. There's just no solid proof, Mac."

Mac looked sourly at the Director. "I know he's guilty goddammitt!"

"So do I. But my hands are tied on this. Now excuse me, I have to get to work."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Once back at his apartment, Mac pulled out the video he had found at Walker's place and plugged it into his VCR. Whatever he'd thought would be on it, Mac was not prepared for what he was about to witness.

He sat and with the remote in one hand and a glass of wine in other and started the tape. Mac had no idea how far he would go to bring justice to the man who had served Victor with so much cruelty. Victor had told Mac about Gant's vicious depravity. He had heard the stories, and now, Mac would have the graphic images to go with the sad words.

He fast forwarded through the snow until he came to the opening scene showing Victor and Walker alone in the strip search room. Mac saw Walker shove an exhausted looking Victor down to the floor and then pull his baton and beat him thoroughly with it. He winced as every blow struck home, and his heart broke when Victor finally gave an anguished cry declaring that he wasn't hiding anything. Walker pushed Victor around some more and then finally pinned him against the wall.

"Now I can see why Gant would want to examine you himself." Walker had said suggestively.

Victor had answered back that he didn't understand what Walker meant.

And Mac listened intently as the psychotic guard took great pleasure in explaining to Victor, the lewd acts that Gant was going to perform upon his person. Mac swallowed his wine and poured another glassful, barely taking his eyes off of the tube. He watched, rapt, as Gant entered the room and after dismissing Walker, proceeded to carry on with the strip search.

Seeing Victor tethered to the wall in the manner that he was made Mac angry. And he watched horrified, when, during the search, the CO. cut Victor's chest open with a small knife. Gant followed up the physical torture with some thorough mind raping. Naked, restrained and vulnerable, Mac could clearly see the uncertainly in his partners face, he wished that he could have been there with him in that room to comfort him through the humiliation. Gant had carried on his mind games throughout the search. Watching Gant so far had been nauseating for Mac, but he was still unable to pull his eyes away from the tape. Suddenly, the search over with, events turned quickly and Mac sat completely stunned, and watched the bloody, brutal rape of his lover.

Gant's brutality had no bounds and Victor's screams only amplified that fact.

It was at that point that Mac finally turned off the t.v. He covered his mouth with his hand as his whole body shook with fear and with anger. From the beginning to end, Gant and Walker had succeeded in dehumanising Victor in that cold, sterile room. Mac was too enraged even to shed a tear for his lover. All he could think of was how he was going to pay Gant back for the acts of savagery he had perpetrated against the helpless Victor. Mac sat in his dark apartment, and soon after, the rage was replaced with an incredibly heavy sadness. It was at that moment, that Mac finally understood Victor's behaviour inside and outside of Kensington. Now, he could truly fathom why during all of their love making sessions, Victor had never once allowed Mac to have intercourse with him. They had done other things, lots of times, and Victor had even made love to Mac on several occasions. But Mac had never been permitted to make love to Victor.

Mac didn't mind too much, the other stuff they did to each other more than made up for it. Now however, he could finally see the full scope of just how hard it was for Victor to have put himself out there by trying to cosy up to that loon Walker in order to obtain the information they needed. Mac knew that Victor had personally found the young blonde guard absolutely repugnant. To be able to do what he had done to get inside Gant's office took guts, and plenty of them.

That night Mac went to bed with a plan to pay Gant back in Victor's name. He finally fell asleep, with thoughts of Victor, and a newfound respect for just how strong he really was.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac stood outside in the fresh air on Victor's balcony. He stared down at the passing traffic, listening as the odd horn honk wafted slowly up to his ears. Mac looked over his shoulder at Victor, who was now curled up on his side with his back facing toward him.

Mac watched Victor's side slowly rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He smiled at his lover, whose sleep was still and unencumbered, or so it seemed. Turning away, back to the view of the city, Mac recalled how only few days ago he had set it up so that Gant would pay for not only his trespasses against Victor, but also for all the other young men who had died because Gant had sold them to the crazy judges.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The following morning after spending a restless night with dreams of a screaming Victor. Mac rose from bed with a plausible, fully hatched plan. He started in right away on implementing it. First he went to his bank and withdrew $4000.00 cash, all in 20's. Then he spent the rest of the morning driving up to Kensington penitentiary. Mac knew that Gant did not work on weekends, so he was not too worried about being seen by the guard. He signed in the visitors' log as Big Eddies cousin 'Lee-Roy Mathis'. Big Eddie did have a cousin named Lee-Roy, Mac had been careful to ensure his facts were straight. However, the people at Kensington did not know what the man really looked like.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Big Eddie appeared in the common visitor's room and sat down at a table, waiting for the cousin he hadn't seen in years to show up.

Mac approached and quickly slid into the seat across from the felon. The large convict groaned and attempted to stand up.

Mac stopped him. "Listen." He said, his eyes flicking over some fresh scars on the convict's face. They had been left there by Victor, after Big Eddie had very nearly killed his young friend Matt.

Eddie made a great show of sighing heavily before sitting back down, as if having a visitor was bothersome to him. The truth was that Eddie hadn't had a visitor in over six months and he was curious as to why Mac Jones would come to see him. He had heard the rumours that both Smith and Jones were cops, which would explain their midnight disappearance. He looked at Mac, trying effect both boredom and indifference. "I though you were a cop." He finally said.

"No. I'm not a cop." Mac replied truthfully.

"How come your and your pod mate - Victor . . . " Eddie said the name Victor with venom, " . . . disappeared then?"

"We were transferred to the holding pens at the court house for a re-trial. As luck would have it, the judge threw the case out at the last minute on account of the real stick-up men were caught. We were actually innocent . . . that time." Mac could charm a snake out of its skin when he wanted to.

Eddie, who had never been accused of being a genius, bought Mac's unlikely story. He smiled, then frowned and said suspiciously, "How come you came to see me? Your friend ambushed me over that bitch Vandenberg." Eddie suddenly stood up to leave, distrustful again.

Mac stopped him from going by saying, "Hey that's all water under the bridge. Right?"

The large convict was still standing, he was unsure of what to do. So Mac made the decision for him.

"I don't want to talk about those two anyway. I'm here to offer you a job, " he said in a half whisper. When he still saw indecision on Eddie's ugly mug, Mac added in hastily, "It pays well."

Eddie sighed heavily again and then sat down. "How much and what's the job?" he asked.

Mac smiled. Somehow he just knew that money would win out over pride and a bruised ego. He leaned forward and said quietly to Eddie, who had also leaned forward, "$3000.00 to mess Gant up real good." He sat up straight.

Big Eddie grinned evilly, he liked the idea of taking on a hack, especially Gant, for whom he had no love. "Five thousand, and he's got two broken legs and arms."

Mac shuddered inwardly at the diabolical smile Eddie had. The convict might not have been a genius, but he was no moron either-- at least not when it came to business. Mac reached inside his coat and pulled out a hardcover book. The title read, 'How to get rich quick. The 10 best money making schemes.' The book had passed through a metal detector, a drug sniffing dog and a dog whose speciality was explosives. As far as the prison was concerned the book was a clean item, therefore, Mac had permission to give it to Big Eddie. He pushed the book across the table to the convict and said quietly, "I'll give you a gee per limb."

"Okay." Eddie agreed. "Four grand and he's out of commission for the next six months. What's this?" he asked, picking up the book and looking it over.

"It has your fee enclosed. Take it to your cell and read between the lines." Mac said softly. Earlier he had carefully spread out the money and then glued the first blank page down to conceal the cash. He had hidden two thousand on the front inside cover and then two thousand on the back inside cover. It was a simple trick, one he had learned as a teenager. A little bit of cutting, some good glue, and no one was the wiser.

Eddie stood up to go, but before he could, Mac stopped him and warned, "I can count on you to do the job, right? I wouldn't want to spread it around that your word is no good. I may not be in the can right now, but I know a lot of guys who are." The lie was very believable.

Big Eddie actually looked hurt. "It'll get done. I said it would and I always honour my contracts." He waved the book, then walked away without looking back. Beaten by the man's criminal partner or not, Eddie had been hired and paid to do a job and he would fulfil his obligations. He may be a woman beater and a murderer, but he could be counted on to keep his word.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Three days later, Mac was drinking his morning coffee and flipping through his daily paper, looking for word of Eddie's handy work. And on page six, Mac saw what he had been watching for.

There was a brief, 3" column story underneath a small head line that read: 'Guard attacked while on duty.'

Mac quickly scanned the story, seeking out the key words and the main points. When he read the part about the 'assailant or assailants' not being found, he took another drink of coffee and silently thanked Big Eddie.

He knew the crime couldn't be linked to him; he had signed a false name in the register, and he had even gone so far as to wear a special lotion on his face. The lotion, invented by Dr. Frye was invisible to the naked eye, but on video, his facial features would show up blurry on all of the surveillance cameras and any photos that might have been taken.

Earlier in the year, Dr. Frye had had the agents test it for him, and Mac, true to form, had stolen a small bottle of the stuff just because he thought it might come in handy someday. The agent grinned to himself. There was no tangible proof that Mac was ever at Kensington visiting the convict. Mac thought to himself how, on some days, he loved his job. He drained the last of his coffee and put the cup in the kitchen sink, Mac had no guilty feelings about what he had done at all. Gant had got what was coming to him. In fact, the guard was lucky Mac hadn't paid Eddie to kill him. That was something he knew Eddie would have done if the price were right. He left his kitchen and went into the living room. Pulling a key from the pocket of his robe, he unlocked a small cabinet door on his wall unit. The video of Victor and the rape had been safely stashed away inside a small safe, which was in turn hidden in the cabinet. Mac pulled the tape out and locked the cabinet again. He lifted the flap and grabbed the shiny black ribbon, pulling on it until all of it had been removed from its plastic casing. Then he gathered up the tape and threw it, along with the cartridge, into his garbage.

Pleased that Victor would never have to know that such a filthy document even existed. Mac was doubly more pleased that Gant had not got away with his crimes.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Later that night Mac gone over to Victor's apartment armed with a bottle of excellent white wine and a good mood. He pointed out the story to his lover, who, as expected, hand no sympathy what so ever for Gant.

"Too bad they didn't finish the job." Victor commented as he drained his wine away. "Come on." He said to Mac. "Let's got to bed." He stood up and pulled Mac by the hand to his bedroom.

After the usual foreplay, Victor had shyly asked Mac to make love to him. The request came as a complete, yet welcome surprise. Mac wanted to make this first real experience for Victor a memorable one, one that he'd remember because it had been so good. So the younger agent took his sweet time, working his lover slowly into sexual crescendo that ended with Victor arching his back in complete pleasure and crying out his lover's name. Afterwards, both men had lain still beneath the feather duvet and cuddled, their arms wrapped tightly around each other.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

>Later that evening, the two of them lay on opposite ends of the love seat with their legs entwined around each other. Every time one or the other got up, he did not walk by without first giving each other long, lingering tongue-touching kisses.

"Mmmm, I feel soooo good." Victor declared after one such kiss. For him life couldn't be better, Matt was free from Kensington, The judges had created their own punishment, and Gant's penalty had been served up by a disgruntled felon.

The lovemaking had been positively perfect, Victor couldn't remember there ever being a time without Mac near his side. He waited until his lover had lain back down after using the washroom to say mischievously, "Mmm, I'm hungry. Good sex does that to me. Want some popcorn?" Victor was sure to make a show of rubbing his stomach, as if to prove his hunger. Knowing full well that his lover didn't care for Clint Eastwood movies, Victor was sure that he would not have to leave the couch.

"Don't get up. I'll make it." Mac jumped and quickly fled to the kitchen. . .

Several minutes later, before Victor knew it, his eyes grew heavy and then closed altogether . . .

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Finally, Mac drained the rest of his beer and then came in from the cold. Walking over to his still sleeping lover, Mac grabbed Victor's shoulder and shook it. "Come on Vic. Let's go back to bed."

Victor rolled over slowly and opened his eyes, "Is the movie over?"

"It's done. The story is finished." Mac snaked his arm around Victor's shoulders and led him to the bedroom.

The End

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

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