Monday Morning Mansfield

by Demi-X

Rated: A, slash,violence

Pairing: Mulder, Vic Mansfield/Mac Ramsey

| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The steady click click click of the Director's heels was beginning to wear a little thin on Victor's nerves. Here it was, Friday night, and he was stuck sitting in her office waiting to get his bum smacked; metaphorically speaking of course. His diminutive boss was pissed at him, and he knew it. Mac and LiAnn had already taken their lumps for losing a surveillance subject, and now it was Victors turn to be in hot water for mishandling evidence - again.

Victor knew that the Directors tirade against Mac and Li Ann had culminated with her shipping them off to Nuuk, the capitol of Greenland, for a long weekend, so that they could protect a controversial fur farmer who had international ties.

In actuality, it was the Director's way of punishing them, demonstrating to the trio just who, exactly, was the boss. Luckily for Victor, hed been nowhere to be found when she was busy rampaging against the other two agents. Unfortunately for him however, shed had four good hours to smoulder before he showed his face, and she'd used all of that time to think up a suitable punishment for this third member of her favourite team.

Presently, the Director was leaning over the back of Victor's chair, draping her left arm over the back of it. With her right hand she slowly ran her fingers from his templethe caress, deceptively soft and sweetto his chin, where she suddenly stopped her ministrations and grabbed what little skin she could find there with her thumb and forefinger.

"OhOW! That really hurts!" he managed to yell between clenched teeth. The grip she had on him was painfulit definitely held Victor's attention.

"You bet it does, sweetheart. You're lucky I don't have my nails on today," replied The Director seductively into her captive's right ear. "Now listen up and listen good," she gave a little shake of the skin that she was pinching to emphasize her point. "You have been a very, very naughty boy; you know that, don't you?" She didn't wait for a reply but continued. "Do you know what I do to bad little boys?" she asked.

Vic swallowed and shook his head, no. Mac had told him about the time The Director had come to his place in the middle of the night, leaving him partially seduced and thoroughly horny. Victor was afraid of The Director's sexual habits; he had no inclination to become a part of one of her kinky leather fetish fantasies. He thought an answer in the negative was perhaps the best bet. He was right.

She continued after a second. "Seeing that you missed out on going to Greenland with your partners in crime, I have come up with another punishment that will probably make you wish you had caught that flight." She smiled to herself and then let go of Vic's chin, walking around to the middle of her desk. Facing Victor, she leaned forward and put her hands on the desk, palms down, saying, "We are sharing information with the FBI concerning the recent killings of homeless men in the park. They had similar murders 6 years ago in Central Park but then the killings just came to a stop. Now it looks like the killer - or killers - might have migrated north and is picking up where he left off."

She could see Victor smiling. His wheels were turning; he figured he was getting off easy, working on a murder case dealing with bums. As per her style she allowed him to think that before stepping up to commit Hari-Kari on him; reminding Victor just who was the director and who was the agent.

Homeless men being murdered? Well hell, I can cope with spending the long weekend working; why not? It's gotta' be better than dealing with fur farmers in Greenland. Victor was smiling at his thoughts when he caught the expression on the director's face.

Christ, why is she smiling like that? I hate that look!

The smile on her face exceeded the one that hed had glued on his face just seconds ago.

Uh-oh, something's rotten in Denmark....

The Director suddenly wiped her smile away, narrowed her eyes and said, "Now here's the best part, Victor. We will be using the services of a former profiler who's somewhat of a lone wolf. He is a little eccentric, but he comes highly recommended by one...," before continuing speaking she flipped through a slim file that had been lying closed on the table. "Assistant Director of the FBI by the name of Skinner. Seems this agent has some theories that are just, and I quote, ' A bit out there.' The agent's name is Mulder. Fox Mulder. You will meet him at Pearson in 2 hours. His plane will be landing at....," she glanced at the watch on her wrist and finished, "10:00pm."

"You will liaise with him; help him out in any way you can. Assist him, if you will, in whatever needs he might have." The steely tone to her voice told Victor that this was not an assignment to be argued with. "The two of you will not be investigating these murders; he is only here to share what the Bureau has on these cases and to provide us with an updated profile. Just gather the facts, put the case together and hand it in on Monday."

Victor was no longer smiling. He shot a look back at the Director that was just as icy as her own and grumbled in that low gravely voice of his, "Great. Babysitting an American Fed! Thanks a lot.

The Director ignored his comments, but her next words were said with an equally hard-edged voice. "You can pick him up, show him the city, then the two of you can burn the midnight oil preparing the case; I don't care. But you only have 3 days to get your shit together. You deserve everything you get for sneezing on the only piece of evidence we had on the mid-town bombings. How could you have thought that handkerchief was anything but evidence? It had the culprit's saliva on it!"

Victor tried to protest, to say it was all just an honest accident, but the director cut him off by holding up her hand and saying in a disgusted tone, "Don't bother answering. You'll only piss me off more."

Deep down, he knew that she had him dead to rights; theyd had crucial evidence and hed blown it - literally. Damn dust motes! He made a mental note to remember to take an anti-histamine before he entered any more burnt-out and decrepit buildings, and to bring his own Kleenex too.

"Don't give me that look, Victor," the Director was saying, "I gave you this assignment because I knew you would hate it. Oh, and also for your information, every hotel in town is booked solid for the commercial trade convention this weekend, so I guess you're going to have to put this Mulder up at your place."

Victor's big green eyes opened wide, and his brows rose to form deep arches; things couldn't get much worse as far as he was concerned. Babysitting a wacko FBI agent for the weekend and having to show him around was bad enough, but now he also had to let this screwball stay at his place as well. Great. Well hed definitely learned his lesson, no doubt about that. He'd make sure never to screw up evidence for as long as he lived.

God, how he regretted not going to Greenland!

Victor stood, grunted, and took an envelope that contained a photo of Fox Mulder off the Director's desk. Then he turned crisply on his heel and headed towards the big glass doors that would lead him to freedom.

"Oh yeah, and Victor..."

Vic turned back, and with all the control over his anger he could muster said coolly, "What is it now?"

"Did you know that when you're really angry, your lips don't move when you talk?" the Director teased. "That gives me an idea for next year's talent show. You and Mac can do a ventriloquist act. Though I can't decide which one of you two would be the dummy. Hmmm."

She laughed then, and when Victor only rolled his eyes at her and snorted disagreeably, she smiled sweetly saying, "Be nice to Agent Mulder, or the next bit of skin I pinch won't be under your chin." She dropped the smile and dismissed him flatly, "Now get out."

Victor turned and walked away without so much as a good bye or good riddance.

Of course The Director had intended to make him mad; she knew he would not have anything to say to her until Monday. Then he'd return to work properly chastised, with his tail between his legs, just like the other two agents - all ready to start fresh on a new case.

She loved being in charge!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Pearson Airport: 10:25 PM.

Victor had the picture of Mulder tucked in his pocket, but he hadn't wanted to look at it just yet. He wanted to see if he could spot the suit on his own. He had arrived at the airport in time, only to find that the plane had been delayed. It was only slightly late, but this did nothing to Vic's already rotten mood. He read the monitor and went to the appropriate gate to wait. When it was announced that the plane had landed, and the passengers were disembarking, he watched the doors intently, waiting for them to open. When they finally did, a huge crowd started to pass Victor by, and he thought sourly, Just like cattle

He was about to take out the picture in his pocket, when he spotted the most likely candidate for the job. His eyes zoomed in on a tall, slightly rumpled man who was wearing a long, black, London Fog raincoat.

"Bingo," Victor muttered triumphantly. He smiled to himself, glad that he had not lost his touch and then pulled the photo out, eying it. Yep, it was a match all right. The man was looking around with a focused expression, as if he should be able to pick out his contact without any help as well.

Victor stood up and started to head towards the FBI agent named Fox Mulder. As he was walking, he took in the short, spiky, brown hair and - as far as he could tell from the distance - hazel eyes.

Tall, lean, Thought Victor as he approached the target. very handsome but not gorgeous--the nose's just a little too big. Buta pleasing package just the same.

Actually Mulder was just the type Victor went for. Then it hit him.

Ah-ha!

Now he knew why he had really been sent here instead of to Greenland. The Director was trying to punish him by giving him blue balls for the entire weekend! This Fed was probably a Mr. Straight-as-an-arrow or a Mr. Yoga-granola-eating-Im-only-into-celibacy kind of guy. How much worse could it get?

Victor approached Mulder and sticking out his hand said, calmly, despite the butterflies he was feeling in his stomach, "Fox Mulder? I'm Victor Mansfield, your ah... agency liaison for the next couple of days."

Mulder shook the outstretched hand vigorously and replied, "Call me Mulder." He gave Victor a wide, toothy smile and added with much humour in his voice, "Who'd you piss off to get this assignment, Mansfield?"

Victor laughed at the irony in Mulder's comment and said simply, "Let's not go there...."

When Victor turned and started to walk away, Mulder watched the view so graciously provided by the younger agent and thought with a slight leer on his face, What a great ass.

Mulder was truly taken by the Canadian's great assets while at the same time awe-stricken by the strikingly close resemblance he bore to Alex Krycek. He had known beforehand, of course, of the likeness in physical appearance between Victor and Krycek; Skinner had forewarned him about it and had even used the phrase, "Looks like Ratboy", when he was telling Mulder how much the agent resembled Krycek. Jesus Christ, but did he ever. He looked so much like Alex that Mulder was almost tempted to hit Victor in the face and throttle him, just to see his reaction. If the other man didn't fight back, that would mean it was really Krycek impersonating Victor Mansfield and pretending to be

Ah, what's the point. Mulder shook his head to dismiss his thoughts and followed behind Mansfield taking a moment more to admire the view before falling into step beside his temporary partner. Once by his side however, Mulder couldn't help glancing quickly at Victor's left arm. It looked as though he had two arms butjust to be sure, Mulder daringly reached down and administered a small pinch to the sensitive skin on the back of Victor's left hand.

"OUCH! What was that for?" Victor demanded. "What is it with people and their need to pinch me today?" He was more than a little surprised to feel the quick sting from the pinch.

"Just checking something out," was the reply. "It's what makes me such a great field agent." Mulder tapped the left side of his temple with one long forefinger as he said this.

Even though he was smiling, Victor got the feeling that Mulder was serious. Victor felt as though it had been some kind of a test, but he didn't comment further. He was annoyed by the FBI agent's sudden gesture because it had rudely interrupted the lurid thoughts he was having about the man. Then again, it was probably for the best. Victor didn't really want to walk through the entire airport with a hard-on. If anything, Mulder's pinching him brought his mind to the here and now and made it work quickly to deflate his fledgling erection. Though why Mulder had pinched him in the first place still made him wonder.

The two men walked amicably towards the luggage carousel, saying very few words beyond the standard small talk. When Fox leaned over to pick up his small duffel bag, he peeked over his shoulder surreptitiously to give Victor a quick appraising look-over. Victor didn't even notice the gesture, he was too busy checking out the goods himself.

The meaning of the expression on Victor's face, however, was not lost to Mulder; he was after all a psychologisttrained to detect such nuances in a person's body language. He could tell when someone was lying, telling the truth, or even what they were feeling at the moment by something as simple as their posture. He knew body language indeed... and Victor might as well be an open book based on the message his body was conveying. Mulder spun around all of a sudden; so quickly that he completely startled Victor.

Victor coughed into his hand to cover up his surprise and waited for Mulder to speak.

Ah ha! Busted!

The American chuckled inwardly at the thought while the Canadian was beginning to turn four shades of red. Now Mulder was definitely sure that Vic was into guys too.

Things are definitely looking up.

Fox Mulder had thought this weekend was going to be a total waste of time; that hed been sent on this mission of mercy by Skinner to relieve his boredom. Scully had actually had the nerve to abandon him for a week's vacation in the Bahamas. Unbeknownst to him, Skinner had actually just gotten tired of listening to the custodial staff complain about having to pull sharpened pencils out of the ceiling above Mulder's desk, so he had sent the agent on this errand.

"So," Mulder ventured after he had retrieved his bag. "Where's my hotel?

"Well, ummm actually," Victor knew he sounded a little nervous so he cleared his throat before trying again, "Actually every respectable hotel is booked up for the weekend; something about a commercial trade convention going on."

Mulder laughed then, thinking that respectable hotels and him didn't mesh anyway.

"You'll be staying at my place, if you don't mind." There hed got it out.

Bingo! There is a God after all!

Mulder's thoughts were doing flip flops. This was just getting better and better. He was really starting to think this was the best thing to happen to him since discovering the Flukeman in the sewer.

"Great, sure, whatever. I should warn you though, that I am an insomniac. I'm usually up all night long." He let the double meaning sink in a bit before continuing, "Think you can handle that, Vic?" Mulder gave a slight grin which could have been construed as somewhat mischievous, perked his eyebrows twice and then began to walk away, brushing lightly against Victor's arm as he passed by.

Victor was shocked. Pleasantly shocked. But shocked none the less.

The director had played out this one all wrong, Vic thought. Spending the weekend holed up in his apartment with a guy who gave him a woody by just smiling at him and shaking his hand was not his idea of punishment, that was for sure. And spending it with a guy who would be a prime candidate to relieve said woody for himwell hell, that was just the whipped cream on top of the strawberries as far as he was concerned. Victor broke into a slow jog to catch up with Mulder. When he pulled alongside, he couldn't resist asking, "Did that little insomnia comment mean what I thought it meant?"

"Yes," was the brief reply.

"Well then, let's find my truck and get the hell out of here." Victor fished his keys out of his jacket pocket and picked up the pace ever so slightly.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor's place: 11:30 PM.

"So what will it be? You want a beer or something else? I got Dr. Pepper if you like, " Victor called out from the kitchen, his voice slightly muffled by the refrigerator door and its contents.

"Beer's fine," was Mulder's response. He was making a slow circle around the agent's very tastefully decorated living room, drinking in the decor and wondering why he himself lived in such a shithole when he could have a place like this. Then he remembered why....everyone and their dog broke into his apartment at least once a week and not having anything nice saved him on repair bills.

"You can just throw your stuff on the chair in the bedroom if you like, Fox."

"Mulder."

"What was that?" asked Victor, returning from the kitchen. He handed Mulder an opened bottle of Labatt's Ice as he spoke.

Mulder accepted it and took a long pull before answering, "It's Mulder. Just Mulder. That's what I prefer. Thanks for the beer by the way," he added. Mulder liked what he tasted and turned the bottle around to read the label. He took another long drink and realized Victor was staring at him quizzically.

"My mother must've taken too much Demerol or something when she was in labor. Otherwise I can't figure why my parents would name me 'Fox' of all things." He smiled, making it obvious that it wasn't an uncomfortable topic for him before forging on, "I'm only kidding. But I do prefer Mulder. Even my mom calls me that most of the time. What do you like? Vic or Victor?"

So the dance was beginningthe getting-to-know-you-before-I-fuck-you tango.

Victor sat down on the love seat and taking the cue, Mulder joined him by settling himself on the opposite, but close, end. Each man tucked their inside leg underneath them and rested an arm on the back of the settee. They were facing each other and both were feeling cozy, comfortable and ready.

"You can call me whatever you want, Mulder. Vic, Victorit's all the same to meI answer to both. Hell, you can even call me Mansfield if you like." Victor's small laugh held just a slightly nervous edge to it, and so did his voice. It had been a long time a very long time since he had been with anyone. His last time had been with Li Ann, and although hed loved her dearly at the time, the sexual aspect of their relationship had been the most difficult part. Hed always felt like he was deceiving her. Victor had managed to get through the sex act with her by closing his eyes and conjuring up images of men: men like Mulder. He knew now that Li Ann was better off with Mac, even though at the time of their break-up he wouldn't admit it. She was better off without him, and he without her. Victor guzzled half his beer and looked into Mulder's eyes. They locked onto each other, staring at one another intensely.

Mulder had never seen such attractive green eyes - or maybe he just never really paid much attention before. Krycek's were a nice shade of brownish - green, but they paled in comparison to Victor's. Mulder skimmed his eyes over the rest of Victors handsome face and was drawn back to those eyes. Immediately he thought of the tired clich about eyes being the windows to the soul. He believed the phrase was totally applicable here; and suddenly, kismet no longer seemed to be a fallacy.

Victor broke the gaze first. He cleared his throat in a gesture of nervousness, as if to say, you must like what see judging by how closely your watching me and raised his beer to his parted lips and downed the rest in one long swallow.

Mulders eyes roamed down to Victor's neck, watching the amber liquid leave the bottle and slide down that long sexy throat of his. Mulder wondered what it would be like slide something else into that gorgeous mouth and throat.

Victor stood up and adjusted his jeans slightly. His semi-erect penis was just beginning to show its promise. "You want another?" He asked.

The FBI agent had been so transfixed by Vic, that he hadn't even realized hed finished his own beer. "Yeah, sure, thanks." Mulder's fingers trembled slightly when he passed the empty bottle to the outstretched hand waiting for it.

Victor retreated to the fridge to grab another couple of bottles. He was more nervous than ever. Mulder had been staring at him while hed drunk his beer. Effectively drinking him in.

Victor liked the thought of that. Mulder was interested all right, but where to begin? Who would make the first move?

Well, he mused on his way back to the living room. We'll just have to wait and see.

Stopping at the stereo, Victor put on his favourite B.B. King CD. He hoped it would help calm his nerves. He adjusted the volume to a setting a little lower than usual and walked back over to the small couch. As he passed the cold bottle to his guest, Vic asked in a quiet, husky voice, "This music all right? I have other stuff, if you want to take a look."

"No, this is great. Sit down. Relax." Mulder's fingers brushed Victor's lightly as Vic handed over the beer. The touch was electric.

Mulder noticed that when Victor sat back down, his face held a slight blush; and it added to the Canadians appeal even more.

Victor seemed to want to say something but was having a hard time spitting it out. So Mulder took a swig of his beverage and put it on the coffee table, then he reached over toward Victor and took the beer from his hands too, setting it down next to his own. Boldly, Mulder reached across the back of the couch and slowly began to caress the back of Victor's right hand, working his way up towards the wrist. Butterfly, feathery-light caressesso soft they almost tickled. Almost but not quite.

Finally finding his voice, Victor said very quietly, "Ah, Mulder....it's been a long time since I've been with someone. Even longer since I've been with a man. I'm a little rusty here." He gave another nervous little laugh. Victor tore his gaze away from watching those long fingers touching him to look Mulder's eyes and promptly lost any other thought he might have had. He could see that Mulders eyes had gone from hazel eyes, to a lust filled blue hue.

And that lust of focused in on him.

"Well, Victor. It's been a real long time for me too. I am usually too busy to do anything at night but paperwork. But hell, once we get started, we'll know what to do." And without waiting for an answer, or for Victor to give his consent, Mulder leaned over and placed a delicate, almost chaste, kiss on the object of his desire's lips.

Victor responded fervently. He opened his mouth, inviting Mulder's tongue to enter. And enter Mulder did. Their tongues vied for space inside of each others' mouths.

Feeling, exploring clashing with each other.

They went on kissing; neither one inclined to break off something that felt so good. So right. Oh yeah, it had been a very long time, for both. Their eager mouths sucked hungrily at one another; the intensity rising by degrees.

Reluctantly, Mulder was the first to pull his mouth away. Both men were breathing heavily, chests rising and falling in sync with one another. Mulder smiled lustily and quipped, "It's like riding a bike, Vic. Just like riding a bike." Having said that he put both hands behind Victor's head and held him gently, pulling him in closer and kissing the younger man with a renewed, eager ardour. Victor wrapped his muscular arms around Mulder and leaned against his chest.

The dance had begun.

Victor held Mulder and leaned in close. Their mouths met and tongues collided against each other, roiling around like mating snakes. There was an eager impatience to both men's kisses - the meaning of such trembling urgency clear - let's get it on, baby. Victor was relishing the softness of Mulder's full, ripe lips, and Mulder certainly had no complaints concerning Victor's mouth.

Mulder, sensing just how nervous Vic was, decided that he should take the lead for this round at least. He gently pushed himself over on top of Victor, never once breaking the seal of their kiss. Mulder was so hard and so turned on he thought he might blow his wad right then and there. He couldn't remember being so self-aware before. It was if he could feel every nerve end in his body standing at attention in unflagging support of his hard-on.

Victor felt Mulder's small nudge and complied immediately. He liked the idea of not having to make any decisions right now - not as if he could have done so just then, anyway. The sensible, thinking part of his brain had shut down. He only wanted to get off with Mulder, right here, right now - and maybe again later tonight, not forgetting the rest of the weekend.

To hell with work; the Director be damned. That old bitch could wait. Later on he would be more than willing to pay the consequences for her anger. They were actually brave thoughts for a guy with another man's tongue down his throat.

Victor increased the pressure of his embrace, then dared to allow himself to explore a little further down. He moved his handsshaking slightly as he did sodown to Mulder's ass. Victor rubbed the perfectly formed, rounded mounds softly, cupping each cheek with his palms. His explorations grew bolder still, and encouraged by the soft moans coming from the man on top of him, Vic pulled the dress shirt out of Mulder's pants so that he could roam the planes of the perfectly smooth, muscular back with his finger tips. Victor could feel Mulder's erection through both layers of clothing

Mulder felt the kneading on his ass, then his shirt being pulled out of his pants. All he could do was moan his consent. Oh yeah, Victor was definitely starting to relax a little. Mulder hoped his soft moans of pleasure would encourage his lover more - and they did. Mulder was not usually so vocal during sex, but Vic seemed to like a little noise, so he thought why not? Let the guy know that he was doing a great job. The soft explorations at his back inflamed his desire even more. Vic's touch was light and in performing his ministrations on Mulder he was raising a light dusting of goose bumps on Mulders skin. He moaned again.

After awhile, Mulder reluctantly pried his mouth away from Vic. He rested his forearms on the cushions Victor was leaning on, with an arm on either side of the agents pretty head. Victor, for his part, left his hands where they were when the kiss had ceased, up underneath Mulder's Armani dress shirt, resting on his shoulder blades.

Mulder looked deeply into the huge green pools that were Victor's eyes. The pupils were dilated to their largest, full with desire. Mulder reflected that his own eyes must look much the same to Vic, only Mulder felt sure that his view from the top was much better than what Victor was seeing. Their chests heaved, both mens breath coming short and shallow. Mulder kissed Vic's lips once more but refused to be pulled into another marathon kissing session; he had other ideas. Mulder continued to kiss his way across Vic's face.

Flawlessmasculine beauty personified, Mulder thought as he planted a peck here and there. Jesus Christ, I could get off by just looking at him.

When Mulder was done planting butterfly kisses across the perfect face beneath his lips, he worked his way across to Vic's right jaw line and then to the oh-so-soft part of anyone's anatomy - the junction between the neck and the shoulder.

Mulder inhaled Victor's scent deeply. He detected the freshness of some sort of soap - Irish Spring, he would later find out - and the remnants of a very appealing cologne. 'Tommy' by Hilfiger maybe? Well he would discover that soon enough too; eventually they would move to the master bedroom, which was actually the only bedroom in the apartment.

Victor, sensing where Mulder was going to end up eventually, tilted his head to his left, giving Mulder full access to his neck and throat. He moaned audibly when Mulder, finished with his kisses, clamped his lips to the skin between the top of his shoulder and his neck. He could feel the suction of Mulder's mouth increasing, knowing full well that the end result would be a full-blown hickey. The thought of being marked in such a way, turned Victor on, although why it did he couldn't say, although perhaps, when Mulder had gone home to his part of the world, Victor would be able to look at the purple/red mark and remember what a great time theyd had. Judging by the pain the suction was causing, it was going to be a big one; it would probably last a couple of weeks at least. Oh well, now he would have to wear that turtle neck his sister had bought him for his birthday.

Mulder was actually a pro at giving hickeys, though he knew it was a rather juvenile trait for a 36 year old man to still have. Nevertheless he liked to give them, and Victor obviously liked to receive them. Mulder slowly began to gyrate his hips in small circles, rubbing himself over the other mans pelvic region. All the while he continued to suck and lave his tongue over the tremendous red weal he was creating. Mulder could feel both their erections, and it excited him no end.

"Yess, Mulder yeahohhhh that's it," Vic mumbled.

They were dry-humping on the couch, something neither one had done since high school. Another enjoyable act seldom practiced. Mulder would have to remember that for next time.

Mulder ceased with the grinding action, to Vic's disappointment, and looked up from the task at hand, saying huskily, "Let's move this party to the bedroom." Not waiting for a reply, he stood up and held his hand out to give Victor a hand.

He accepted the hand by placing his own in it, and let himself be pulled to his feet.

Both men laughed in unison when Fox pulled Victor roughly to his chest and caught hold of him tightly. The pair of them were so serious in every day life that it felt good for the budding lovers to be able to share a laugh.

Picking up his own beer first, Victor handed Mulder's to him. They drank them down in one long gulp, seeing who would finish first.

Victor won. Being Canadian and used to the beer he had a slight advantage, and Mulder hadn't guzzled since college. Each man burped loudly and wiped their mouth with the backs of their hands.

After Victor had double-checked the doors and windows to make sure they were locked (it secretly pleased Mulder to see that Vic was as paranoid as he was) and shut off the stereo followed by all the lights, he was ready for the next step. He took Mulder's hand to lead him to the bedroom.

They walked down the darkened hall together hand-in-hand with Mulder trailing slightly behind since the hallway was too narrow for them to walk side-by-side. When they arrived at the bedroom, Victor reached in and flicked the light switch. The small bedside lamp came to life, giving off a dim glow that could only come from a frosted 40 watt bulb.

"Well here it is. The bedroom." Victor commented casually, as he entered. He stopped at the foot of the king size bed and turned to face Mulder. As he gazed at the FBI agent, he was suddenly stricken with a case of bashfulness. He had never before been with someone to whom he felt so attracted. Every attribute that made Mulder who he was appealed to him, from the top of his spiky brown hair to the bottom of his rounded chin.

Victor knew that he was being superficial by judging Mulder mainly on his appearance alone, but he couldn't help it. All of Mulder's good looks, combined with the fact that the man was a great kisser, turned him on.

I cant believe how lucky I am.

But then a few seconds later, these thoughts were replaced by more sensible ones, which were less supportive of his current actions.

God, what am I doing? Here I am about to crawl between the sheets with a manand not just any man, but an FBI agent and I don't even know the first thing about him!

Victor gave the Esquire watch on his right hand a quick, cursory glance.

Jesus Christ, I barely just met the guy an hour and a half ago! Has it been that short a time?

Hed felt so comfortable around Mulder that it seemed as if they had known each other for years. He knew that to find someone who could make you feel so comfortable, so at ease with him was rare, and especially when one considered his and Mulder's line of work; it was even more so. Victor knew his own profession moulded his personality so that it was in his nature to be aloof, cold, controlled, suspicious, and even a little paranoid.

In fact, Victor had been accused of displaying all those traits at one time or another, usually by LiAnn. The more hed tried to be open and honest with his feelings, the more miserable he had become. For LiAnn's sake he had tried to curb some of his natural inclinations, but then he had ended up feeling forced, as if he was changing himself completely just to gain her approval. Now here with Mulder, he felt totally comfortable being himself; he had a feeling Mulder would accept him no matter what.

The more Victor watched Mulder, the more irresistible the other man became. His thoughts were running amok inside of his head. The reasonable part of his mind was trying to convince him of how crazy this whole thing was, while the impetuous part of himself was trying to convince him to ignore that voice of reason.

Victor was torn between ripping his clothes off and shouting "take me now you stud!" and actually leading Mulder back into the living room to get a head start on the profile instead. However, luckily for both of the men, after a brief battle, the small part of Victor that made up his impetuous side eventually won out.

What the hell, you only live once, and if I die tomorrow at least I'll be dying a happy man

He flashed a large grin then, giving Mulder a great view of his perfectly even white teeth.

Mulder had been holding Victor's gaze the whole time the agent had been deciding what to do. He watched in silent fascination as Victor's face morphed from one expression to the next. It was obvious to Mulder that the younger man's emotions were at war with each other internally. He could tell that Victor was having doubts about what he wanted; whereas what Mulder wanted was to let Victor decide on his own. Though he madly desired the Canadian, Mulder believed ultimately that wherever they were going to go with this, it had to be Vic's choiceof his own free will.

When Mulder caught the other man peeking at his wristwatch, he had been a little concerned but still, he had remained silent. Luckily for him, his patience was finally rewarded.

He knew that Victor had reached a decision when he found himself on the receiving end of one of the most beautifulno THE most beautiful smile he had ever seen. The agent's mouth was exquisite just as it was, but when he opened up and showed his pearly whites in that brilliant smile, Mulder was hopelessly done in.

He knew that he had already fallen for Victor... hard.

The younger agent had reeled him in hook, line and sinker even though he hadn't even done anything intentionally to seduce him. Mulder just fell under Vic's spell on his own.

Victor opened up his arms wide then and said in a calm, collected voice that was husky with lust, "Come here".

Mulder did not hesitate at all; he strode over in four quick steps and entered into the waiting arms. They encircled him tightly and squeezed. He felt as if he could stay there forever; the feeling was so wonderful, as though he was finally coming home for the first time after a long absence. He had finally found a man who not only felt the same way as he did, but was also in a similar line of work to his. Mulder knew that Victor would understand how he felt about his job without him ever having to explain. They were the perfect companions for one another, and the emotions he was experiencing bordered on euphoric.

Their mouths met in a gentle kiss, but there was no wrestling for oral space this time. The kiss was more of an acknowledgment of each otherit was short and sweet. They put off an extended kissing session this time, as they were ready to move on to the next step: the actual act of making love.

Mulder began by unbuttoning his own shirt, but Victor stopped him by gently pushing his hands back down to his sides, saying softly as he did so, "Let me do that." He rendered Mulder still with his wide-eyed gaze alone as he began slowly to undo the shirt buttons, starting with the top one. Large fingers worked delicately until the shirt was completely undone. Victor ran the palms of his hands over Mulders cotton covered torso, exerting slight pressure over Mulder's nipples when he grazed them with his fingertips. When he was at the top of the agent's shoulders, he reached over and outwards to push the expensive garment down his arms, leaving it to land the rug. Victor maintained eye contact while he continued to undress the agent, untucking his tank-style undershirt and pulling it over Mulders head, his desire becoming obvious when he caught sight of Mulder's bare chest.

Mulder decided to reciprocate Victor's actions, relieving the man of his own, plain white shirt and then going for his buckle. Victor reached for Mulder's buckle in response, and each man unfastened the other's belt in perfect unison. They finished quickly, shucking the rest of their clothing off unaided. When they were both fully undressed, each man stood still, studying the other, both appreciating what they saw.

After a few seconds of silent examination, Victor grabbed hold of Mulder's hand tightly and led him to his usual side of the bed. He pulled back the large Dania-down quilt and crawled under the thick blanket, patting the space beside him.

Needing no second invitation, Mulder joined him. "Mmnice bed, cozy," Mulder noted rather analytically after Vic had pulled the covers over him too.

"You think so? Thanks. I figured I needed something warm and cozy seeing as how I sleep alone these days with no one to cuddle." Victor mimicked a pout. He laughed lightly then and said, "What, don't you have eiderdown in the good old U.S of A.?"

"Oh yeah, we have it all right. It's just that I sleep on my couch. I don't even have a proper bedroom." Mulder chuckled and continued, as he saw the look of confusion cross Victor's face. "I wasn't kidding when I said that I was an insomniac. I'm counting on you to help me get to sleep tonight, Vic."

"Don't worry, Mulder, there's nothing like three or four orgasms to help you drift off into the world of sweet dreams. Does the trick for me every time."

"Three or four orgasms!" Mulder said in a mock shocked tone. "God, what's your secret?"

"It's all in the beer, Mulder, now shut up and kiss me. We can do the small talk later.

Mulder leaned over and started to kiss Victor; learning the taste of the Canadian all over again. Both men only needed the sensation of kissing to revive their semi-rigid cocks and in about two seconds flat they went from being half way, to fully erect.

Mulder decided that he wanted to take charge again, and rolled on top of Victor, pinning the muscular man beneath him. He sat up and straddled Victor's lap, trapping his hips between his own strong, swimmer's thighs. His erection met with Victor's, and he slowly began to undulate his pelvis in a circular motion. Mulder could feel the heat emanating from the man beneath him.

The FBI agent broke off the kissand this time Victor was too caught up in the excitement to protest -- watching Victor's face as he slowly started to work on bringing him off.

With his eyes shut and his hands clenched in the sheet at his sides, Victor began to move in time with Mulder. The feel of other man's hard-on moving over his own was too hot for words; he was going lose his load any second.

Victor could tell from the increased speed of the grinding rhythm that the FBI agent was close to orgasm as well. Not even bothering to fight it, Victor allowed his body to surge toward gratification. The two of them had all night after all. And the whole weekend for that matter.

Victor hadn't been joking when he told Mulder that they would have three or four orgasms tonight alone. Or at least, that was his plan; after all it had been a very long time for him.

Mulder accelerated the tempo of his movements. Christ, he was gonna blow any second and they hadn't even bothered with lube. At that thought, Mulder reached down between them with his hand to wipe the droplets of pre-cum that dripped from the slits of their cocks. He smiled at Victor's loud gasp and then rubbed the thick liquid over both of them, stroking his and Victor's erections together in one hand, spreading the slick down their rigid shafts.

When Victor felt Mulder's fingers wipe away his wetness, he experienced a delicious surge of urgency, and then, when he felt Mulder's strong grip stroking their erections together, that was it for him. He could not hold back any longer. He cried out a throaty, "Oh god yessssss! That's it, Mulder, right there... that's it! YEAH!"

It took only one, two, three solid strokes and he was coming. He shot off so hard that the first stream actually hit the headboard. A second weaker stream was still able to reach the bruise underneath his chin and Victor continued coming. A large pool of semen had accumulated in the hollow of his belly.

Mulder heard Vic's cries of pleasure signalling his peak, and immediately he followed suit. His own orgasm rocked him to the soles of his feet, and his cum almost took the same route as Vic's, hitting the man on his face and under his chin, then flowing onto Vic's chest.

Victor closed his eyes tight and grinned at the sensation of Mulder's jism hitting him in the face. Relaxing his hands, Victor brought them up to Mulder's back and began to stroke him lightly. Straightening himself out, Mulder rested his body heavily on top of Victor's. Fortunately, Victor didn't seem to mind, although even if he had, Mulder didn't think he could move just then. Eventually he had to of course; he could feel the difficulty his lover was having in breathing with his weight smothering him.

Suddenly, the younger man slid his hands down Mulder's back and then slapped playfully at Mulder's right cheek. Mulder squeaked out a falsetto, "oohh baby" in reaction.

The slap was aimed just right, the noise it made was delightfully loud and sharp, and Victor smiled, knowing that his hand print would be left behind. He could already feel the warmth of the smack underneath his palm. "Come on, Mulder, roll over. I can't breath."

Mulder did as asked and rolled to Victor's right, but he kept his left arm and leg draped over Vics abdomen -carefully avoiding the wetness; in his own personal act of defiance.

Victor didn't mind, though as the semen on his chest chilled in the air, it began to leave an uncomfortable cold spot on his chest. Victor didn't want to move but it was starting to get really unpleasant. He tightened his hold around Mulder's shoulders while reaching back towards the night stand. Pulling open a drawer, he felt around blindly and smiled triumphantly when he found what he was seeking. Victor came up with a small box of tissue; left there after his last bout of the flu. He sat the box down beside him on the bed and pulled a few of the squares out.

Content, Mulder played absently with Victor's navel, rubbing the rim then plunging his pointer finger inside, pulling it out only to repeat the same motion again. He hadn't felt this good in a very long time. It had been quite awhile since hed hit the sheets with someone, especially another man. Working the hours he did, he didn't have much time for family, or hobbies, or anything else for that matter. Having sex had become an item at the bottom of a very long list of things to do.

When Victor had finished cleaning himself up, he offered a few Kleenexes to Mulder, who shook his head no. He was relatively cum-free as he'd left most of his wad all over his lover, so there was no need to clean up...yet.

After awhile, Victor cleared his throat and asked, "What are you thinking, Mulder?"

Mulder left Vic's navel alone and let his free hand wander up to the perfectly matched, light brown nipples that marked Vic's chest. He played with them, raising the quarter-sized circles into small hard buds, killing time whilst he collected his thoughts. When he had them sufficiently organized he told Victor what was on his mind.

Licking his lips he began by saying the name, "Krycek."

"Pardon? What's CRY-CHECK?"

"Not what, who? He was my former partner; I was thinking of him." Mulder winced, realizing it was a pretty shitty thing to say to the man who just invited him into his bed and into his life.

"Gee, thanks Mulder. Was it that bad? I dunno; personally I enjoyed myself. You know, if I wasn't smothered underneath 190 pounds of weight right now I would just get up and leave," Vic answered - rather good-naturedly, given the circumstances.

"What gives?" he continued. "Why are you thinking of this Krycek guy? Should I be jealous?" His last question was said in a tone that held a little bit of a harder edge to it.

"What! Oh no. No way. God, Vic, you've made me feel more incredible than you can imagine. You won't believe how good you've made me feel." Mulder kissed Victor's chest to emphasize his point, then went on, "This is going to sound a little kinky."

"Well, kinky I can handle," Vic replied and to prove it, he gave Mulder's already reddened butt cheek another playful slap.

Mulder laughed. "Well then you're going love this. You see, Alex Krycek was my former partner, and from the first day I laid eyes on him. I wanted him. I mean, sometimes just watching him walk would give me a semi boner. But for reasons that I won't bore you with, he had to leave the FBI. He left me. Or that's how it felt. I never really told him how I felt about him, but I think he had an idea. Under different circumstances we might have been able to do something about it. I don't knowand I guess I never will." Mulder began rubbing Vic's nipples again, concentrating on how to word his next revelation.

Victor remained silent, letting Mulder tell his story in his own way, wishing he would hurry up about it and stop keeping him in suspense.

"He had to go into hiding. He's not clean. I mean, he's done some bad things. Actually, he's a Russian spy. He went from being a fresh-faced rookie and my partner to a renegade with no allies. The last time I saw him he had changed so much, it seemed like he wasn't even the same man anymore. Alex lost his left arm when some peasants in a Russian forest cut it off, with nothing but a super-heated knife. There was no anaesthetic." Mulder felt Vic cringe beneath his limbs. "Yeah, I know, I can't even imagine what that must have felt like. He'd lost a lot of weight too and had scars that I'd never seen before. God only knows how he survives."

More than a little melancholy had seeped into his voice as he spoke. "He had betrayed me so many times, until I finally came to my senses and said to myself, 'That's it. I am never going to trust him again.' And, Victor, I am over him. Completely. But here's the kinky part - you look just like him."

"Excuse me?" was all Victor could come up with. He really didn't know what to say, or think for that matter. He wished he was better with words. Suddenly, he thought of Mac, and of how he would have known what to say if he were faced with this. Mac always had a comeback for everything. In the end, lacking anything better to add, he simply let Mulder finish what he was saying, although the strangeness of his story made the urge to toss Mulder off of him and then leave the room stronger.

"I mean, you too look so much alike, it's freaky. Butcome on, Vic, hold still, let me finish before you throw me out of here," Mulder demanded as Vic started to struggle. Only after Victor had stopped moving did he go on. "You look like him except that your eyes are greener; darker."

He placed a kiss on Victor's cheek. "And you're slightly taller." A few more kisses all over, and Victor was beginning to relax again, enjoying how Mulder was trying to make it up to him.

"And I like your haircut better." Mulder began to rub his fingertips lightly up and down his chest, making the younger man's nipples harden in response. While still planting kisses here and there, Mulder grinned slightly and gently gripped Victor's already erect penis. He began rubbing the head of Victor's cock and spreading around the fluid he found there.

Mulder looked into Victor's big eyes and said without a trace of humour, "More importantly, you are a better person than he could ever be. He's a liar, a murderer, and a back-stabber. Alex Krycek is bad to the bone. You, on the other hand, are honest, open and sweet. I know I can trust you." Mulder said his next words in a whisper so low that Victor almost didn't hear him, "You're perfect, Victor."

Mulder continued to stroke the rigid shaft in his hand and pepper Victor's chest and stomach with small kisses, forgetting all about Alex Krycek as he focused on Victor Mansfield.

Im not a complete innocent you know Mulder. Victor husked softly, his eyes feathering shut.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Director's office 12:30 AM.

The Director reached over and turned up the volume on the small screen that she was looking at; she really wanted to hear this. The surveillance equipment was rolling, recording everything the hidden camera in the bedroom was seeingthe bedroom in question happened to belong to Victor Mansfield. She had known all along what kind of man Fox Mulder was, and what kind of man he liked.

The Director had intentionally spared Victor the trip to Greenland so that she could have him meet Mulder. She knew her own agent well and therefore was not surprised when things went according to her plans, with Vic and Mulder ending up in bed together.

Now, while watching the two men on-screen, the director's lips stretched in an evil smile and she said to herself, "Gotcha, Mansfield, you arrogant prick."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"You're perfect," whispered Mulder. Not responding to Victors whispered words. He used his thumb to remove the moisture dripping from the end of Victor's cock, spreading the clear liquid evenly up and down the shaft with his strong hand.

Victor had ceased to protest; he was merely along for the ride now.

This was Mulder's ultimate wet dream. He had been harbouring feelings for Krycek for such a long time, even though hed known all along how ridiculous it was to do so. Mulder also knew that Krycek would have been willing to have sex with him, if it had served his purpose, but Mulder would never have wanted Krycek to have sex with him just because he had to; hed wanted Krycek to sleep with him because he cared, and he knew that it would never happen.

But now here he was, in bed with a Krycek look-a-like, and it was a fantasy coming true for him. In Mulder's opinion Victor was actually better looking than Krycek. His features were softer, less jaded, probably due to the fact that he had been living a much better life; a life unfettered by spies, lies and international intrigue.

Victor had not spent the last four years on the run from everyone.

Where Alex was hard and uncompromising, Victor was agreeable, sincere, and, most importantly, honest - and that really made all the difference in the world to Mulder. Hed never wanted to be enticed by Alex Krycek; he just hadn't been able to stop himself. He couldn't help it if he was attracted to Kryceks type.

The very fact that Krycek's soul was black made it even harder for Mulder to come to terms with his own preferences. He could no more change the type of man who turned him on than Victor could stop looking like Alex. Victor's willingness to forgive his little confession made him even more perfect. Victor actually seemed pretty happy with him right now, even though Mulder wouldn't have blamed the Canadian if he had kicked him out of bed and right out of the apartment.

The fact that he hadnt done that made Mulder realize that the younger man was obviously secure enough in himself to be able to accept his confession at face value and put it behind them so that they could continue with the night's festivities. It was another point in favour of the secret agent. In Mulder's eyes, Victor just kept getting better and better.

Leaning over, Mulder drew Victor's circumcised head into his mouth and began to suck gently, using his tongue to run over the slightly raised sensitive spot that lay on the back side of Victor's cock. He smiled to himself when Victor slowly began to thrash his hips and moan softly.

Victor was lying flat on his back, legs slightly splayed apart, and he had his head thrown back in what looked like a uncomfortable archthough he certainly wasn't complaining. Mulder grew hard at the mere sight of him. At last he decided to stop teasing his lover with the gentle suction that he had been providing and started in to give Victor a real blow-job.

Swallowing hard to raise some moisture in his mouth, Victor inhaled deeply through his nose and said to Mulder in a voice that was husky with lust, "Yesooh, Mulder, you are definitely on the road to redemption. Oh yeah!" Victor couldn't believe that Mulder was able to swallow him down whole like that. He had never been deep throated by anyone before, and he loved it. In fact, Victor was going out of his mind; the sensations were incredible.

Mulder shifted his body so that it rested between Victor's legs and held down the mans slim hips to stop him from thrusting up with his pelvis. Using only his mouth, he sucked in deep and relaxed his throat. In addition to making hickeys, giving great blow-jobs was another art form hed taken great pride in learning; though he was out of practice. Still, judging by the noises coming from the other man, the point was moot.

Mulder knew that an orgasm was imminent, which was just fine by him. Up and down. Suction. Tongue in the sliton and on he went, wanting to taste all of Victor.

"Oh yeah, I'm gonna, gonna....Mulder pull off. I'm gonna cum, " warned Victor, but when Mulder showed no interest in letting up, Victor pushed away all cognizant thought and let himself go.

Mulder had known when Victor was about ready to cum because he had felt the head of Victor's penis change; it had become larger in his mouth, and the younger mans hips had bucked hard as he sought release. He wanted to experience all his lover had to offer.

Victor's orgasm started from the bottom of his testicles and ran up though him. His balls tightened briefly and then let loose. Victor shot so hard that he thought for sure he was going to drill a hole through the roof of Mulder's mouth, or rather, through the back of his throat. No matter how fast and furious the orgasm came, Mulder was still ready for it. The agent opened up his throat still more and began to swallow as best he could.

Since Victor had been celibate for so long, he had more than enough in his reserves to fill up Mulder's gullet. When Mulder could swallow no more, he let the rest of the ejaculate fill his mouth to trickle out of the sides. Grabbing a handful of tissues from the box, he discreetly emptied his mouth of the leftovers.

"Oh, geez, Mulder, sorry about that . I tried to warn you," apologized Victor. He sounded exhausted; it had been a very long day. "Thanks," he added after a second. Then he leaned over and pulled Mulder close to give him a kiss. Victor could still taste himself on Mulder's lips, although his eyes were already beginning to close. I really needed that.

"Hey, my pleasure. It's the least I can do, after what I just told you." Mulder was beginning to tire as well. It had been a long day for him too, with the traveling.

"Well so much for four orgasms, eh? Guess I kinda' overestimated my virility." Victor chuckled quietly. His eyes were shut, and he was very close to falling asleep. Without thinking he rolled over onto his left side. Even though he now had his back towards Mulder, Victor had to lie in this position; he couldn't fall asleep lying any other way.

"I have absolutely no complaints about your virility. I'm beat too. You want me to move to the couch?" Mulder asked. When there was no response from the other man, Mulder used his feet to shake Vic slightly, "Hey, you hear me?"

"Mmm, yeah I heard; don't go. Stay here. I'll keep your nightmares away. I promise." After having stated this, Victor fell promptly asleep.

Mulder pulled up the large quilt to cover both of them, shut the light off and then settled himself behind Victor in the spoon position. He drifted off into sleep himself, just as quickly as his lover had done.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Director's Office:

Only after the lights had gone out in the bedroom did The Director shut off the recording equipment. She would have Dobrinski continue in the morning where she had left off. After surprising Victor with these little tidbits of blackmail material she knew that her strong-willed agent would think twice before he disobeyed her again.

His defiant attitude towards her over the Orsini family business was still fresh in her mind. Victor may have forgotten all about it and moved on, but she had not.

She liked to keep her agents under her thumb. Mac and LiAnn were easy to control, simple threats, and an all expense paid trip to Greenland, were all that was required to tame them. Victor, on the other hand, needed to be taught who was in charge and then continuously reminded so he wouldnt forget it.

This little video display would aid her in reminding Victor that she did in fact hold all the cards. The Director looked forward to showing Victor her home made movie.

She would break his spirited backbone by any means necessary.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Saturday Morning:

Mulder, being a creature of habit, woke up promptly at 5:50 am, his usual rising time, only unlike most other mornings, this time he was not alone in bed.

Thankfully

He admired his limited view of Victor's back in the dim, pre-dawn light. The flesh of the man before him was smooth and unblemished. It was so beautiful that Mulder couldn't resist kissing Victor's backor rather, in Mulder's opinion, nature's perfect canvashere and there, wherever his lips took him. He reached over Vic's hip and began to stroke the man's early morning erection softly.

Victor gradually woke up, but he remained still, not wanting to distract the man who was in the process of feeling him up. He stayed still and went with the flow, smiling lazily to himself as he thought,

Yes, this is definitely better than paperwork.

Before last night, all Victor had was his job; hed had no outside interests or activities at all. Every once in a while he would go out to the pub with Mac and maybe with LiAnn, drinking, but that was about all. Being a secret agent definitely had its disadvantages at times. This, fortunately, was not one of those times, and he suddenly doubted that he would ever have met Fox Mulder if it weren't for his job.

Mulder was very aware that Victor had finally come awake, but he was pleased to see that his lover kept his eyes closed and remained silent. Both agents wanted it that way. He slowly rocked his pelvis into the back of Victor's ass, wordlessly asking for permission to fuck him. When no immediate protest came from the prone figure, Mulder continued with his foreplay.

Victor was easily able to guess what Mulder's intentions were; he understood the meaning behind the man's eager prodding at the crack of his ass loud and clear. He was a little surprised himself that he wanted what Mulder was silently requesting. He had only half-heartedly engaged in anal sex before, and at the time had agreed to be on the bottom, but it had hurt him so much that the other guy had just given up before hed even achieved full penetration. Every time since then, all Victor had done had either been by mouth or hand, but now, amazingly, he actually wanted Mulder to top him. He wanted to feel the pain mixed in with the pleasure, and moreover, he wanted Mulder to be the one to initiate him into the world of real man to man sex.

After a few seconds more, Victor rocked his pelvis backwards, giving his consent by silent motion rather than by the spoken word.

Happy that Victor had assented to his request, Mulder released his gentle hold on Victor's penis and ran his hand along the length of the mans smooth hip and thigh. He leaned in behind and began to kiss and nibble at Victor's neck, as he ran his hand over the curve of one perfect buttock, pushing Victor's right hip over so that his right leg was no longer resting on its partnered left. Rubbing along his lover's back, buttocks and thigh again, Mulder trailed his fingers up over the Victor's rib cage to his throat. He ran his index finger along Vic's soft, dry lips and then pressed gently at his mouth. When Vic parted his lips, Mulder pushed his finger inside. Victor took the hint and sucked in the whole finger, running his tongue over the tip and up its sides, mimicking the motions of giving a blow-job.

Mulder let out a small groan at Vic's actions, and both men enjoyed the game of silence, for the eroticism that it added to the moment. He wanted desperately to get between Victor's thighs. Unable to wait any longer, Mulder pulled his finger out of his lover's mouth and removed the fluid dripping from Victor's cock, using it as lube for Victor's very small opening. Just to be sure that there was enough, Mulder took the copious amount of pre-cum dripping from himself and applied it to the other man's cleft as well. Still, he could tell that this was going to be a tight fit so he pushed in very slowly, pulled and then twisted his index finger deep inside the exceptionally small orifice.

He's so tight!

Mulder couldn't wait to get in there himself, but feeling the tension along Vic's back, he knew he had to take a little extra time in preparing him. Once the other agent had adjusted to, and accepted the one finger, Mulder eased in another. Again he waited for a few seconds for Victor to get used to both fingers before adding in a third.

Victor had remained silent the whole time, only gasping heavily when Mulder's finger first entered him. He tensed slightly to help fight the pain, but he wanted this so badly that he refused to back out again, no matter how painful it might be at first.

Only after he felt that Victor was totally open did Mulder dare to begin the next step. Three fingers was one thing, a rock hard, eight inch shaft was another. Mulder grabbed hold of himself and guided his engorged head to the openinghitting the spot right on. Victor sucked his breath in deeply but still didnt say a word.

Mulder gently forced in just the head of his cock and waited for them both to adapt. It took a while, but after thirty seconds or so he found he could continue easing in the rest of his cock one agonizing inch at a time.

Victor's breath was deep and heavy but it didnt sound as though he was labouring with too much pain. He seemed to be coping fine. Mulder waited until he was buried deep inside of the Canadian before he reached over his hip to grip Vics semi-erect cock; encasing the rapidly stiffening organ tightly within his warm fist. Mulder knew that hed need to perform perfectly, a dance of coordination that would enable both of them to experience maximum pleasure, so he slowly began to thrust while pumping Victor's cock in time with his movements.

When he had the timing down pat, Mulder attached his lips to the dip in Vic's neck and began to create another red mark to match the one from the night before. After only about two minutes of pushing in and out, Mulder felt the first stirrings of the need to release. He increased the speed of his thrusting hips; his hand following suit as if on auto-pilot.

Victor was close to ejaculation too, and the increased speed of Mulder's cock raking over his prostate was all it took. The hand job that he was receiving was effective in taking Victor's mind off of the burning sensation in his ass. Even though it hurt, he liked how he felt; it turned him on and made him feel alive. Victor had not felt this way in years, if ever. The effects of being invaded on both sides did the trick at last; his breathing became heavier, and suddenly his knees straightened out, stretching his feet almost to the end of the bed, as he came into Mulder's very talented hand.

When Mulder felt the stiffening of Victor's body and then the small muscle deep inside of Victor contracting around him, he pushed hard, once, twice into the man.

Oh God, this feels so good

Mulder emptied all of his seed deep inside Victor.

The sky had lightened even more, and Mulder could see the sweat forming on the back of his lovers neck, he could also see the gigantic purple hickey that he had made there.

Christ, I hope Victor doesn't mind.

Not that it would matter much now if he did; it was already too late. He doubted Vic could even feel this hickey yet; though he would shortly.

When he had sufficiently softened, Mulder pulled out of Vic, kissed the spot where hed made the hickey and said lightly, "Good morning."

Victor stretched again and said contentedly, "Yes it is."

Mulder hugged Victor tightly to him and then was suddenly stricken with an anxious thought, I didn't use a condom. And he didn't ask me too. Shit! I didn't even think of it!

Mulder wrapped his arms tighter around Vic and squeezed.

God, he feels good...not using a rubber is worth the risk.

At home, he normally slept alone on his couch, but here, stretching out next to his dream man just felt so right that Mulder never wanted this weekend to end. He thought, not for the first time, how glad he was that Skinner had forced him to come to Canada. He even contemplated sending Skinner some flowers in thanks for giving him this assignment but wisely dismissed the cheeky idea. He had a feeling that his superior would neither get the joke nor appreciate the flowers. When Mulder had been told he was going north, his first thought had been, "Great. Canada, nothing exciting ever happens up there!" For once, he was happy to be proven wrong.

Victor was having similar thoughts of his own, thinking about how being with Mulder made him feel content - fulfilled. They were both so similar that he didn't feel the need to put up his usual walls; something he did with others on his first meeting with them. It felt almost natural for him to be here, in this bed, with this man. Mulder and he fit together in a way that he and LiAnn never had or could. Victor laughed inwardly then at the thought of Mac and LiAnn in Greenland. He had no doubt that the two of them were probably fighting about something or other at this very moment. Mac was probably complaining that there was nothing to do, while Li Ann was probably nagging him to keep his mind on the job.

Ha!

For the first time Victor found he really didn't miss either one of his partners. Usually he kept himself so busy with his job, that he could think of nothing else. Everyone else and their problems would come before he did.

He used to think that he liked it that way.

And then, on the weekends, he would pretend that he had things to do when in reality all he had to do was think lonely thoughts and bury longings that went unfulfilled. With the constantly heavy workload, Victor wasnt left with much time to think of other things anyway. However, if at this very moment it would suddenly come down to either helping out Mac and LiAnn or staying here with Mulder, he knew there would be no contest.

What a shit head I am, Victor mused, Dumping my comrades-in-arms for a guy I just met. Oh well, he shrugged to himself. It's not like they wouldn't think of doing the same if they had a guy like Mulder sleeping next to them in bed.

After a while, Victor put all thoughts out of his head and relaxed his body against Mulder's, allowing himself to doze off.

Mulder was starting to fall back asleep again too. With Victor there in his arms, all seemed right with the world. The thought that they still had duties - specifically to work on the profile that they had been assigned - never even crossed either man's mind. The bedroom, warmed by early morning sunlight, and the streets relatively quiet at this early hour, helped lull the post-coital men back into peaceful slumber.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Director's Office:

Dobrinski had tactfully turned off the monitor when Victor and that Mulder guy had begun their lovemaking. He liked Mansfield and hated to deceive him in this way. Dobrinski believed that what Victor did on his own time was his own business. He most certainly did not approve of invading another agent's privacy this way, though he had to admit that he was really shocked to see Mansfield in bed with another man. Hed pegged Vic as a straight guy through and through. Now Ramsey, on the other hand - Ramsey he could see with another man - or woman, or both at the same time.

The large agent didn't exactly know why the Director wanted these tapes of Victor, but he assumed that they were going to be used to further suppress the agent's wilful spirit in order to put him under the Director's thumb. Mansfield's strong will was what Dobrinski liked most about the man; Victor would always say no when he felt his principles were being compromised. Especially recently, the man had been having no trouble standing up to the Director, telling her what he thought. Dobrinski knew that not many agents had the balls to stand up to the queen of the agency.

Nope, Dobrinski definitely did not like this part of the job at all. Secretly filming agents like this when they were in the privacy of their own homes - all of it left a bad taste in his mouth. Still, he had his orders, and he would carry them out. He'd continue the surveillance on Mansfield's apartment until further notice.

Maybe one day, he too would get the nerve to stand up to the Director and just say no.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor's apartment Saturday: 12:00 PM.

Victor stretched his hands above his head and gave a small groan in response to the cracks he heard coming from his back.

Oohh, man that feels good

Mulder, having already awoken about 5 minutes previously, only smiled in response. He had been watching the younger agent sleep and unconsciously comparing him to Alex Krycek. While thinking of the two and watching the one sleep, hed realized that the two men could not really be compared to each other.

Alex was the polar opposite to Victor.

How could he ever have thought that he could feel for Alex the way he now felt for Vic? No comparison at all. In fact Alex Krycek was really a poor copy of Victor Mansfield. The agent's still form reminded Mulder of the statue of David: both were sculpted to perfection. The only difference between the two was that while David was made of cold Italian marble, Victor was made from warm flesh that covered a pure soul. Presently, Mulder allowed himself to be pulled into a warm embrace by Victor. He nuzzled the other man's marked neck.

Victor pulled away and said in obvious good humour, "Hey, no more hickeys. I already look like I lost a battle with the Vampire Lestat." In truth, the younger agent knew that he was more than willing to allow Mulder to do whatever he wanted to him.

Mulder laughed. He had begun to gnaw on Victor's neck, but he decided to let him go this time. "Yeah, well..." he actually did not have any riposte, because what Victor had said was true. He really did look as if he had been on the losing end of a battle with a randy vampire.

Oh well

Hed had so much fun giving the first two that he hoped Victor would eventually give in again. Mulder relaxed and rested his head on Victor's smooth chest. "I haven't slept-in like this for ages. How about you?"

"Nope," came the reply. "Me neither. Feels good though, eh?"

Mulder's soft murmurs told Victor that the man agreed with him. After a brief pause, he asked, "What do you want to do today?"

"I don't know. What's good to do in T.O?"

Victor laughed at Mulder calling Toronto T.O. Only an out-of-towner would say that. "Well, lemme think. Christ, I can't even think on an empty stomach. Let's get up. I need a cup of strong coffee before my thought processes even begin to make sense."

Mulder hesitated then, remembering something that he had something to say to Victor, but not quite sure how to begin. Noticing that Mulder had not yet moved, Victor gave up trying to get out of bed himself and asked instead, "Something the matter?"

Mulder gave a nervous cough, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and admitted, "Um yeah. Actually there is."

When he saw the smile fall from his lover's lush lips, he quickly said, "No. No. Get that look off your face. Though I do feel kind of shitty saying this to youbut oh well...okay, okay, I'll spit it out. I didn't use a condom this morning." Mulder gave Victor a sheepish look.

"Oh," exclaimed Victor, so surprised by the revelation that he remained silent for a beat. After a few seconds he spoke. "You know what? I didn't even think of a condom. Actually, I don't even have any here." He was embarrassed by his confession, reflecting that having sex with a stranger was daring enough, but that having sex with a stranger and not using a condom was downright dangerous; for both participants.

Jesus Christ, has it really been that long?

When LiAnn and he had been together, shed always brought the condoms, so hed never really had to think about the matter. He thought now how stupid he was for the subject not to have even crossed his mind this time.

"If it's any consolation to you Victor, Mulder replied solemnly, I never even thought of using one either. It's been too long for me too. But I know that last year when I had my annual physical, my blood screen came up clean for everythingSTD's and HIV..." His voice waned, feeling a little bit embarrassed at himself for having been so careless. If Scully ever found out she would lecture his ass off.

To Victor that was somewhat comforting. He didn't think Mulder would feed him a line when it came to his personal safety. "Well the same goes for me: I came up clean too. That was eight months ago. I can guarantee you, Mulder, that I haven't been with anyone since - or even way before that." Victor felt awkward in admitting to Mulder that he had been celibate for over a year, although in this instance, he supposed that it was probably a good thing.

Mulder shrugged his shoulders at the younger man's statement. "Great. Here we are, an FBI agent and a shadowy government spook, and yet neither of us was able to remember to play safe when it came to something as simple as sex." They both laughed together. He gave his lover a quick kiss on the lips and continued, "Well I know this is more than likely the wrong thing to ask, but, well, would you mind it if we skip the latex altogether then? I'm willing to take the chance if you are." Somehow Victor didn't strike him as the type of guy who would visit male hookers or shoot up with needles. He genuinely believed the guy when he said that he hadn't been with someone in ages; Mulder could tell just from the way hed been so shy with him in the beginning. And Mulder knew where he himself had been...which was nowhere.

"Well, my partner, Mac, did say once that secret agents are used to living on the cusp of danger. Since we've gone without it all this time, why start now?" Victor said, with a smile playing about his lips.

Having settled the condom debate, they moved on to the next order of business: getting out of bed before they ended up ravishing each other all over again. Mulder made sniffing gestures at his arm pitshe wanted to shower before he got any riper, and Victor felt the same way about himself.

After adjusting the water to an extremely hot setting Victor climbed in and motioned for Mulder to join him. He wanted to show Mulder how much he had appreciated the late night blow-job and the early morning sex. First, both men washed their own hair and rinsed, but when it came time to lathering up their bodies, Victor took control. He turned Mulder away from him and had the American place his hands against the shower tiles high above his head.

He lightly kicked Mulder's legs apart, effectively putting him in the waiting-to-be-frisked position. Leaning in close to Mulder's ear, Victor used his tongue to tease the lobe then dipped the tip inside and breathed out gently.

When he felt that he had Mulder's attention, Victor murmured gruffly, "Don't move!" Mulder didn't think he could have done even if hed tried. Vic ran the bar of vanilla-scented soap over Mulder's back in a slow caress. When he had made what he thought to be enough lather, he put the soap back in the dish and began his soapy massage of his prey. He gently rubbed Mulder from his shoulders straight down to the backs of his knees and then back up again. Smiling knowingly when he caught sight of Mulder's large erection bobbing between spread thighs.

No wonder I still ache.

When he felt that he had lathered Mulder sufficiently, he removed the showerhead from its place above them and started to rinse the vanilla suds away, taking great care to part Mulder's smooth round buttocks gently, to rid him of any soap that might still be lurking. Mulder gasped audibly but said nothing else. He remained perfectly still, not moving even once.

This good behaviour did not go unnoticed by Victor. He stood up and replaced the showerhead in its resting spot. Then he nibbled and kissed his way across Mulder's strong back, taking the time to appreciate the strong swimmer's muscles he had built up there. Victor realized that he had not had a real good look at Mulder in bed last night. They had been dry humping on the couch with all their clothes and this morning, hed had his back to Mulder throughout their love-making.

He pressed kisses up one side of Mulder's neck and then up the other side before stopping to whisper in his ear, "Be a good boy and stay still. If you can do that, I promise not only will I treat you to brunch, but I'll wear dessert for you." Victor blew softly into the ear and kissed it again.

Mulder's cock jumped at the dirty talk. He liked feeling somewhat dominated, especially by this man. He hung his head forward and thought about what chocolate and butterscotch and marshmallows would taste like from Victor's chest.

Victor kissed his way from Mulder's neck to his buttocks, gently biting each, enjoying the teasing he was dishing out. Mulder was being so good, not moving not saying a word. Parting those luscious cheeks, Vic ran his tongue over the freshly scrubbed opening and said softly to Mulder, "I hope you're not shy, G-man," just before he ran the tip of his tongue over Mulder's delicate, puckered opening, grinning devilishly when he felt Mulder jump at his touch.

Mulder heard the words, felt the soft lick and thought he was going to leap out of his skin. Never before had anyone done this for him, to him. Now he knew why Victor had taken such great care in washing him down there. Victor's tongue was wet and silken, and Mulder fought for control over himself. He wanted to cum in the worst way, and yet at the same time, he needed to use his hand to help stave off the inevitable.

He knew that if he even dared to move, that the younger man wouldn't follow through with his dessert promise, and Mulder wanted nothing more than to lick up sweet stuff from his oh-so-generous companion. With thoughts like that running through his head, Mulder found that it was becoming almost impossible to put off his orgasm.

Victor was driving the other man wild and he knew it. He let his probing tongue enter Mulder's opening a few more times, then, sensing that Mulder would not be able to hold off much longer, he quit what he was doing and crawled between Mulder's splayed legs, so that he was now kneeling in front of him.

Mulder sighed with relief, he could hear his lover sliding around in the stall, but he still didn't dare to open his eyes to see what the other man was up to.

In a sultry voice Victor said, "Open your eyes Mulder. I want to look at you".

Mulder did as he was asked. His lids fluttered open to a most stunning sight: Victor on his knees in front of him with rivulets of water flowing slowly through his short hair and down his face.

Victor's long lashes framed his eyes perfectly. He blinked away the warm water that was resting on the tips of his sable lashes and looked up into Mulder's eyes. Giving the FBI agent a sensuous smile, he wrapped his lips around Mulder's throbbing erection and swallowed him down, going as far as he could.

Victor didn't quite have Mulder's gift for deep-throating, but what he lacked in skill, he made up for in other ways, compensating for inexperience with enthusiasm much to Mulder's delight.

Eventually, Victor pulled his mouth away from Mulder and squeezed the end of Mulders penis with his left hand to gather up the fluid there. With eyes wide open and gazing into Mulder's, Victor snaked his right hand between the trembling man's legs in order to reach his anus. Using the natural lubrication that he had gathered from Mulder' cock -- to help ease the penetration process-- Victor sank his index finger into Mulder's sensitive opening with one push.

Mulder moaned loudly. He desperately wanted to touch Victor; to run his fingers through his sleek brown hair. "Please, please let me touch you Vic. I need to," he begged as he looked down at his lover, hoping that his sad, puppy face would do the trick.

Fortunately for Mulder, it did. Victor whispered a simple "Okay" in response and then licked his lips before engulfing Mulder's cock once more. Using only his mouth and very talented tongue Vic continued with giving Mulder the blow-job of his life. He moved his finger in and out of Mulder's ass while sucking on his cock in time to his thrusts.

Knowing that it would only be a matter of seconds now before Mulder's release, and wanting to join him in climax, Victor used his free hand to pump his own erect penis. Both his hands and mouth worked harmoniously together.

Finally allowed to touch, Mulder placed his hands on Victor's head and finding that his hair was too short to hold, he simply settled for resting his hands there.

A few seconds later, both men orgasmed together. Victor attempted swallow all of Mulder's essence, but there was just too much for him, so he pulled his mouth away and let the rest of Mulder's cum pump out over his chest.

Victor's own offering to the shower gods had sprayed out over the tile floor and had already been washed away.

Reaching down, Mulder helped his lover up; pulling Vic into a deep kiss once he was standing.

The water was starting to grow lukewarm, so they soaped up again quicklythis time doing the job themselvesand finished showering. Once they were done, Victor shut the taps off, and they climbed out together. While handing a large dark green bath towel to Mulder and then grabbing one himself, Victor asked rather shyly, "Did you like that?" Blushing slightly as he asked the question.

Mulder looked wide-eyed at his lover in astonishment. "Do you even have to ask? My God, Vic, I think you've ruined me for anyone else!" And Mulder wasn't joking.

Victor smiled again, trying to control the deep red stain that was spreading down his neck. "Well... I was positive that you did. But I just wanted to make sure, eh. I really wanted to make you forget that Krycek guy." he added, honestly.

Mulder, finished drying off, looked Victor right in the eyes, and answered with feeling, "I already have, Victor. I already have."

He pulled the blushing man towards him and rotated him around so that the Canadian's back was against his chest. Then he turned them so that they were facing the bathroom mirror. "I think I'm falling for you," Mulder confessed to his lover's reflection, then he buried his face in the crook of Victor's neck and lightly kissed the art work that he had left there the night before.

In reply, Vic whispered quietly, "Me too." Grinning at his own face in the mirror, he patted Mulder's arm and said practically, "Let's eat. I'm so hungry, my own cooking is starting to sound good."

Sexually satisfied, showered, and shaved, the two men departed the steamy warmth of the bathroom to get dressed. Both of them were ready to eat something. Victor told Mulder of a great little place that served breakfast all day, which suited Mulder just fine as he seemed to be developing a craving for a ham and cheese omelette.

They left the apartment; Victor locked the deadbolt behind them; not dreaming of the possibility that the security of his place might be breached by one of his own. As they headed off to breakfast, neither man even gave a second thought to the reason why Mulder was there.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind the two agents, an agency surveillance team got right to work. There were two people in the team, and while one male agent stood guard, the other agent, also male, picked the difficult lock. When both men were inside, they went right to work.

The duo quickly and efficiently removed all of the small cameras that were strategically hidden about the place. One camera was in the living room peeking out from the binding of a fake book that Victor had never realized he didn't own. Another was in his bedroom, stashed high up on the wall in the very centre of a picture that Victor had taken of the night sky when hed been on vacation in the mountains of the west-coast. Of course that was only a copy of the actual photo. One of the surveillance team members pulled the real, framed photo out of a canvas bag and replaced the fake one containing the small lens. The third camera was hidden in the waterproof radio Victor kept in the shower.

The Director knew her stuff. She had accurately predicted the most likely places where the agents would make out.

Before leaving, the shadowy team cleaned up behind themselves so well that even to Victor's trained eye there was no evidence that someone had been in his place.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor's Apartment: Saturday 7:00 PM.

Victor unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. He and Mulder had had a great day. After scarfing down a hearty brunch of omelettes and sourdough toast, the two of them had strolled the trendy streets of the city while Victor acted as a tour guide; pointing out landmarks here and there.

As he took in the sights, Mulder had been fascinated by the hubbub.

The two agents had spent the entire day getting to know one another. They had discovered that their interests were so much alike that it was downright spooky. Mulder confided to Victor his belief in extraterrestrial life; although he wisely kept his wilder theories and conspiracies to himself, not wanting to scare Victor off so soon into their relationship.

For his part, Victor had chatted a bit about his job and his partners, though hed purposefully neglected to mention the fact that he was once involved with one of them; he hadn't felt it necessary to bring a fourth person into the scenario, when he had worked so hard at ousting that Krycek dude.

When the sky had begun to darken, both of them had looked up in amazement from the bench they had been seated on. The day had passed by far too quickly.

Victor's stomach rumbled, and the men decided that it was time for dinner, then back to the apartment to start in on the profile; the real reason why they had crossed paths in the first place. The sooner they got the work done the better, Mulder reasoned, as it would make more time for them to be able to get to know one another without any distractions. They had to do a little negotiating with one another about what and where to eat.

With out going into the reasons why, Victor vetoed Mulder's request for Chinese take-out. After some more negotiating-- and a well placed hand on Victor's part-- they finally decided on pizza. Since, in Victors opinion, the little place around the corner from his apartment served the best pizza in town, he suggested that they order from there, then grab some beer and head back to his place for a working dinner.

The two ate with gusto, hungry from the full day. Walking around the city had required a lot of energy; without adding in the fact that their repeated sexual exertions might also have helped to contribute to their large appetites.

After dinner, Mulder spread out the paperwork and both, serious now, got started on the profile the Director wanted. When Victor's watch sounded at 11:00 PM, he looked up from what he was doing to see Mulder eyeing him intently with a wide, feral smile set upon his lips.

"What?" Victor asked innocently.

"Now it's time for dessert," said Mulder, his voice low and predatory.

Victor responded to Mulder's comment by raising his eyebrows slightly and widening his eyes.

"Oh yeah?" he said, matter of fact. "Well what would you like to eat?" He started to tease the other man by running the tip of his pink tongue over his teeth and lips, moistening them slightly. "What do you like to eat for dessert Mulder? Something tart? Salty? Sweet? Is it me that you..." Before he could finish the sentence, Mulder caught him off guard, leaping across the table and flipping him backwards onto the floor.

It had been all but unbearable for Mulder to sit and watch his lover's little display of teeth and tongue. Victor had promised him dessert earlier, in the shower, and he'd be damned if he would let the younger man take control of this situation. When Victor had begun to taunt him, Mulder had reacted without thinking and pounced on top of him.

Victor was amused to find himself flat on his back with Mulder sitting on top of him, pinning his arms over his head. The chair that he had been sitting on had been knocked away to the side. Victor could feel Mulder's groin pressing into his, while his own thighs were being squeezed together by the other man's powerful legs, and he couldn't help smiling up at his captor, mock-begging in a sing-song voice, "Please, sir, I'm just an innocent boy. Wh-what do you want from me? I know whatever it is, it can't be honourable."

Victor's high breathy tone and pleading voice turned the FBI agent on even more, so Mulder went along with the game. "Stay still, son, and no one will get hurt. I have reason to believe that you may have come into contact with an alien life form. It could have..."

Vic started to laugh which made it more difficult for Mulder to keep a straight face. He did however manage to keep his tone even and serious. "I said stay still boy!" He commanded sternly.

Vic stopped laughing and settled for a playful grin.

"I need to take your clothes off." Mulder continued. "My informant tells me that you have been copulating with an alien. I have to be sure that he didn't leave behind a viscous substance upon your delicate flesh.

"But sir, I assure you, I am pure! Body and soul!" Victor was delighting in the role playing. The sense of anticipation; waiting to see exactly what his lover was going to do was just too delicious.

Mulder coughed when he heard Victor's emphasis on the word body'. "Oh," his voice broke slightly as a giggle threatened to escape from his lips. "I bet you're pure. But just to be sure, I still need to examine you. Thoroughly." He kept Victor's arms pinned down while leaning forward to stare directly into the green depths of his lovers eyes and whispered huskily to the man below him, "Starting with your mouth." Then he planted the most exquisite kiss on Victors lips, gently prying them apart and running his tongue around the soft mouth, poking at the tongue inside, prodding it to life.

The two meeting somewhere in the middle.

Mulder was all too aware that Victor was thrusting his hips up, groin grinding into his own. He broke the kiss to look at Victor, whose breath was heaving. The Canadians green, green eyes were silently telling Mulder what he desired without having to utter a single word.

"No, it's my turn now," Mulder warned at Victor's thrusting. "I was good in the shower this morning, so now it's your turn to lie still and do as you're told."

"Is this an official interrogation, G-man, or an examination?"

"You can bet your sweet ass it's an examination, sonny." Mulder answered before he went back to kissing Victor. As an afterthought he murmured into his prisoner's open mouth, "So quit moving."

Victor didn't reply; he couldn't, and his erection was hard to the point of being painful; the friction created by its rubbing against the fabric of his jeans just made it worse, but he obediently did as Mulder wished, for he had no doubt that Mulder would eventually relieve him of his tension and he was looking forward to that assistance.

Mulder released his tight grip on Vic's forearms and sat up. When saw light purple bruises forming where his hands had been holding them down, he felt a little ashamed. The poor Canadian was going to be black and blue by the end of the weekend.

Then again thought Mulder He should know that when you play with a tiger's tail, you might end up meeting its mouth.

With that thought in mind, Mulder let his guilty feelings about the marks pass. Victor was a big boy; he could handle it. He grinned at the sight of lover, he hoped that Victor's turtleneck had long sleeves, or else he'd have a hard time explaining away the fingerprint marks that accompanied the dark purple hickeys to his partners.

"What?" asked Victor, noticing Mulder's slight pause.

"Nothing. Only that I just added a few choice purple bruises to match your hickeys," Mulder replied seriously. "Hope your wardrobe includes a long sleeved turtle neck."

"It does. So quit worrying and get back to the full body examination." Victor started to squirm underneath Mulder.

"Leave your arms where they are." Mulder said, as he pulled Victor's T-shirt out of his jeans. He pushed it all the way up to Victor's armpits and then stopped to kiss the smooth white chest that had been hidden under the cotton, asking his lover between kisses, "Do you trust me? Really trust me?"

Victor nodded his head affirmatively and whispered an airy "Yes." He was being taken to his limits. He felt incredibly horny, and Mulder was being merciless, teasing him this way. All Victor wanted now, was to get fucked or blown. He wanted to get off badly but Mulder was not co-operating. And all these questions Mulder was asking were driving him nuts.

"Okay, then." Mulder said. He continued to push up the cotton T-shirt. When he reached Victor's wrists, which were still held over his head, Mulder wrapped the arm holes of the shirt twice around each wrist and pulled the fabric tight by pulling Vic's hands apart. The shirt served as an effective binding, just kinky enough for some fun but not enough to hurt his captive.

Victor moaned his approval at being bound. Since his eyes were closed, Mulder was unable to read him that way, but the agents body language was communicating his message loud and clear. It was obvious that he wanted Mulder to get on with the games.

Mulder, confident that his lover was happy, went on with the seduction. He kissed Victor's left nipple then sucked it into his mouth and bit down on it hard, eliciting another moan from the man.

Ah he likes a little roughness.

He did the same to the right nipple, making the gorgeous man below him twist with the thrill of being dominated. Pulling out all his best tricks, Mulder undid Victor's button fly jeans using his teeth only while his deft hands plucked at both of Victor's nipples; turning them into firm nubs standing at attention.

Victor was actually pulsing beneath Mulder.

When his jeans were completely undone, Mulder reluctantly removed his hands from the nipples beneath his fingers, to pull down his lover's jeans and underwear completely. He quickly removed both garments along with Vic's socks and boots. Once Victor was completely naked, Mulder paused to drink in the sight of him. Nude, Victor was totally at his mercy now, and it excited him.

Victor's healthy hard-on jumped up, the cool air in the room making his cock even more sensitive than usual.

The turned-on younger man was murmuring something over and over again, slowly rolling his head side to side as he spoke. Mulder thought that it sounded like "please, please" but he couldn't be sure. Still, hed had enough foreplay, and wanted Vic right here and right now.

Rising up on his knees, Mulder crossed his arms in front of his chest and pulled his own Henley over his head, then undid his pants and pulled them off. As soon as he was naked he went back to kissing Victor's lush mouth. Stretching his body over the top of Victor's, Mulder savoured the skin-to-skin contact. The Canadian's flesh was smooth and super-heated. His in favour of Vic column just kept on getting more check marks in it, he reflected. Wrapping his hands around Vic's ankles, Mulder pushed them forward so that his lover's knees were bent, noting in passing, that neither Victor's legs nor his chest were particularly hairy.

All the more a turn-on. Just the way he preferred a man to be.

Moving in close, Mulder wetted two fingers, then sank one into Vic's clenched opening.

Vic inhaled deeply at the pain but was too far gone to protest. The pain and pleasure he felt was all wrapped up in one enjoyable package, allowing no significant acknowledgment to either sensation. Mulder didn't wait too long before he sank the other finger in and pumped the pair rapidly in and out of Victor's small opening. Mulder could feel Victor's tightness, the wriggling man's readiness. He needed to be inside of Victor right NOW!

Victor opened his eyes and urged his lover on. "Hurry," he said. "I can't wait much longer."

Mulder removed his two digits, grabbed hold of his own penis and shoved into Victor. There was nothing slow or delicate about it this time; not the way he had been this morning. The animal urge was upon him. Mulder pushed into Victor's anus brutally, unaware if he was being too rough or not. Luckily Victor wasn't looking for slow and easy either. He wanted a merciless ride and was glad that Mulder was willing to give it to him. Taking hold of Victor's cock, Mulder squeezed it hard. Both of them knew it wouldn't take long now for either of them.

The American pumped his hand up and down, the pressure on his cock making Victor crazy with lust. Within seconds, the Canadian was moaning that he was going to cum, and as he did, Mulder joined him.

Each man lost himself in his own release.

After a while, Mulder eased his death grip on Victor's cock and collapsed on top of him. Both men lying still, panting, their limbs turned to Jell-O.

Victor of course, had more than just Jell-O-like limbs; his ass was burning fiercely as well. He pushed up at Mulder while requesting that he "Remove yourself, good sir."

Rolling off, Mulder sat up. Though the effort was great, he stood and went into the kitchen to grab the fresh tea towel hanging from the oven door handle. He wiped himself quickly with it and then tossed it to the man, still lying prone on the rug. It landed on Victor's belly, but when he made no move to grab it, Mulder laughed. Victor was still struggling with his T-shirt.

"Something funny?" He asked.

Suppressing his laughter, Mulder answered, "No. Let me help with that." Kneeling down by Victor, he untied his captive.

"Selfish bugger," Victor grumbled. "Wipes himself down first." He was only teasing though. As soon as he was released, he grabbed the towel from his stomach and began to clean up. When hed finished, he used the towel to blot up the wet patch that he'd left behind on the carpet, and which had darkened it. He hoped semen didn't stain.

Mulder stood and helped his lover to his feet. Each man picked up his own underwear and slipped it on. The clock on the wall read 12:00. Both were tired, so they decided to turn in for the night. While Mulder gathered up the papers from the floor, Victor went around checking doors and picking up the rest of their clothes. He waited for Mulder to put the paperwork into a file folder and then led the way in the dark to the bedroom. He dumped their laundry in a tidy pile in the corner of the room and then went over to his dresser and started rummaging through his clothing. Meanwhile, Mulder had simply crawled into the side of the bed that he had slept on the night before and lain down on his side.

He rested one elbow on the fluffy pillow, using his hand to prop up his head as he studied Victor. "Christ, you're a mess, Mansfield," he commented jokingly. "Who have you been fucking? Are you changing your underwear again?"

Victor looked up from his dresser; he had been rooting for a fresh pair of 'Calvin's'. "Of course I'm a mess," he said with mock seriousness. "I've been screwing an FBI special agent, you know, and they're a rough bunch. This guy also has a fetish for hickeys, bruises and rug burn." To demonstrate the latter Vic pulled down his underwear and mooned the man lying in his bed. Mulder laughed at the sight of Victor's red bum. Victor continued pulling down his boxers and flung them at Mulder, hitting him in the face. Mulder snatched at the shorts and questioned, "Why are you changing these?"

"Because, Fox," Vic said with raised eyebrows, daring his lover to correct him on the sudden change of name. "I hate sleeping in pecker tracks." Once Victor was suitably clad in a fresh pair of boxers, he padded over to the bed, shut off the light and then crawled in beside Mulder. "Mmm, roll over, Mulder. I want to cuddle you tonight." Mulder did as told and almost instantly, both men were asleep.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Part 2

Sunday.

After a light breakfast of toast and coffee, the two men spooned together on the couch with Mulder tucked in behind Victor. Both of the professional men were content to stay this way, watching old movies and 1960's episodic television to pass the time.

Neither one of them wanting to be too far from the other.

Victor had warned Mulder, that when the afternoon hockey game came on TV, there would be no more silly sci-fi flicks until it was over. Hed explained to Mulder that it was a game between the Vancouver Canucks and the Toronto Maple Leafs, rivals, so it was expected to be rough, tough, and gritty and definitely was not to be missed.

When Mulder questioned Victor about the rules, the Canadian only replied that he would gladly answer any and all questions-- between periods. The two men, having already explored each other thoroughly all over again early that morning, had no inclination to repeat such activities in the afternoon. Having satisfied their carnal urges, they now wanted to fulfill their romantic needs by cuddling and caressing each other while occasionally kissing.

The afternoon passed quickly. Victor's phone rang now and again, but he let his answering machine take the calls, a curt "Leave a message" being the only greeting a caller would hear.

Mulder's cell phone was turned off; he didn't think Skinner would want to talk to him anyway. He thought his boss was no doubt relishing the peace and quiet of his absence; now that hed been shipped off until Scully's return. The janitorial personnel had probably ceased their complaints the day he left.

At some time during the third period, Victor became aware that Mulder had stopped asking asinine questions like why dont they play hockey in quarters a question to which Victor had replied that quarters were for basketball games and pinball machines.

He's probably asleep Victor assumed, correctly.

When the game finally ended, Victor had decided to join Mulder in his slumber, so he turned off the TV and let himself drift off too. In the waning afternoon light, he needed only Mulder's arms around him to keep him warm.

Victor woke with a start. It took him a minute to adjust to the darkness of the small apartment and to figure out what had awakened him. Finally, he realized that it was Mulder; who was busy nibbling on his left ear lobe. Mulder had been trying to pry Victor out of his sleep gently. Victor sighed contentedly and pulled Mulder's arm tighter around his chest to peek at his lover's wrist watch. Using the indiglo light to read the time, he was a little surprised to find out that it was already 7:30 in the evening. They had been sleeping for almost 3 hours.

Victor wiggled his bum over Mulder's groin, and asked sleepily, "Hungry?"

"Uh huh. Why do you think I'm chewing on your earlobe?" was the answer.

"'Kay, let's get up then. Want to go out, or eat in? Your choice. I don't care either way."

"Let's go out. I want to buy you a nice dinner, seeing as how this is my last night in town. My flight back to D.C. leaves at 1:00 tomorrow. I want to do things right. Who knows when I'll be able to see you again?"

Mulder was feeling more than a little melancholy. He was sad to be leaving Victor, especially since they had only just found each other. Mulder was tempted to postpone his flight but wondered what good it would do? He had to go home sometime. He'd eventually have to get back to work and try to return to a normal routine. Mulder was going to miss Vic terribly, and that frightened him. Hed never have believed that he could become so attached to this guy after only a few days. But he had, and now they both had to deal with the fall-out.

"Too bad you have to go," Victor said with faked nonchalance. "It's just as well though. I mean, with the job I have, I wouldn't be able to spend much time with you anyway. Tomorrow, I have a ten o'clock meeting with my boss -- the Dragon Lady-- to turn in the profile, and then Ill have to get briefed on how my partners are doing in Greenland. Not to mention that Ill be given a new assignment." Victor became aware that he had been rambling, and as he grew silent, another thought passed through his mind. "I do, however, have vacation time coming up next month. Maybe I could visit, see where you live. Hang out with you, scare your partner. How's that sound?"

It sounded pretty good to Mulder.

"In the meantime," Victor suggested. "We can get by with phone sex and pornographic e-mail."

Mulder agreed. They reluctantly rose up from their cozy sleeping place and began to ready themselves for dinner.

"I know a great place to go," Victor said as he pulled on his jacket. "Not too fancy but intimate enough so that we can have a nice, quiet, romantic dinner."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Sunday night 11:30 PM:

"Here let me try." Mulder was drunk, but not quite as drunk as Victor. Seeing that Vic was having a hard time fitting the key into the heavy-duty deadbolt, Mulder decided to offer him a hand, glad that theyd had the good sense to take a cab to the restaurant instead of driving.

"If my partnersshh were here they would be able to break in juz like that," Victor slurred his words slightly as he made a valiant effort to snap his thumb and finger together to emphasize his point. After a few more tries at the lock, he finally gave up and handed the key to Mulder; he knew defeat when he saw it, and right now he was being handed it on a silver platter.

Mulder had the door unlocked in no time. He pushed his lover inside and shut the door behind them, locking it carefully. As soon as he turned around to face Victor, the other man pushed him up against the closed door and kissed him roughly.

"God, I'm goin' to misss you when you go. Crazy huh?" Victor mumbled half-drunkenly. Mulder shook his head in response. "Let'z make it a party then. Feel like a tequila shooter?"

Without waiting for an answer, Victor stumbled off towards the kitchen to look for the ingredients to a good time. In the cupboard above the stove he found the bottle of tequila his sister had sent him for his birthday. She had purchased it in Mexico while shed been there building water wells and planting vegetables. Once he had the tequila firmly in hand he searched his kitchen for the other two essential ingredients for shooting tequila; lemon and salt.

After rummaging through his fridge, he finally managed to come up with a lemon that was in pretty good shape. "Ta da!" he announced to the ketchup bottle.

The salt shaker was easy to find, and he set the salt and tequila down, side by side, onto the counter top. Switching on the light, and blinking against the bright light, he pulled out a small cutting board and with his sharpest paring knife began, rather shakily, to slice the lemon.

"Here, better let me do that." Mulder said, covering Victor's hand with his own, stopping the slicing and dicing. "Or next thing you know I'll have a boyfriend with only three fingers and a thumb." Mulder was wise-cracking, but was perfectly serious; he definitely wanted Victor with all his limbs and appendages intact. Setting to work, he cut up the lemon into sixteen equal pieces.

Eight shots a piece. That should take the sting out of my leaving, for both of us.

While Mulder was busy with the lemon, Victor found two shot glasses, washed out the dust and set them up on the coffee table. He settled himself down on the sofa, wanting to be as comfortable as possible while getting obliterated. He was feeling a little more in control now; his drunken haze had faded a little. Sitting up straight, he opened up the twenty-six ounce bottle of liquid gold on the table. Eyeing the worm floating at the bottom of the bottle, Victor thought that no matter how drunk he got, he was going to make sure that the worm stayed where it belonged, in the bottom of the bottle.

Mulder sat down heavily next to Victor, with a porcelain bowl of lemons in one hand, and the salt shaker in the other. "Who goes first?" he asked.

Victor took the ingredients for their party from Mulder and placed them next to the tequila. Then, without warning, he leaned in close to his lover and kissed him with enough force to suck away all of the man's air. After breaking the kiss, Victor placed his hands on either side of Mulder's face and used his large soft thumbs to caress the lips of the man he was falling in love with. "Me," he whispered, searching Mulder's hazel eyes. "I'll go first." Victor wasn't sure what he was looking for in Mulder's eyes, perhaps he was seeking the man's approval. He wondered if Fox felt as strongly about him as he did for Fox.

He desperately hoped so.

After a while, Victor let go of Mulder's face and gently yanked hem of the agents shirt out of his pants. He pulled it up and over Mulder's head and flung the garment away as if was on fire. Then he pushed Mulder back until he was reclining against the large, cushioned back of the couch. Turning back to the table, Victor poured two shots of tequila and then grabbed a wedge of lemon along with the salt shaker.

Mulder watched curiously. Wondering why he needed to have his shirt off to shoot tequila, but instead of asking, he lay still, waiting patiently to see what his lover was going to do.

When Victor turned back to him, he had a rakish grin on his face. "Here, hold this between your teeth." He instructed Mulder as he put the zest of the lemon in his mouth so that the sour fleshy part peeked out from between his lips. When the wedge was secured, Victor, while holding the tequila shot in one hand, leaned in and licked the area of flesh near his lovers left nipple, just grazing the outer edge of the perfect brown circle. He shook some of the salt onto the wet patch that he had left behind and winked at Fox. "Watch this, G-man," he said, and in three quick motions, Victor licked up the salt on Mulder's skin, shot back the tequila and bent down to suck on the lemon that rested between Mulders lips.

After having had chased away the aftertaste of the tequila in his mouth, Victor sat up and happily announced to Mulder, "Your turn." He stripped off his own shirt and threw it in the same general direction as the other had gone.

"Jesus Christ, I got a hard-on just watching you," Mulder laughed. "Crazy Canuck, where'd you learn how to do that?"

Victor shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Oh I'm full of all kinds of surprises, G-man. The fun's in finding them out."

It was a challenge that Mulder looked forward to in the coming months, but for now, he just wanted to concentrate on shooting tequila Victor's way. "All right. Like you said, my turn," he commented, before proceeding to emulate Vics actions.

Mulder's soft tongue was made rough by the salt lick, and when Victor felt it run across his nipple, his penis came alive immediately. He couldn't help groaning, and Fox couldn't help smiling at his lover's reaction.

Damn, what a great way to get pissed!

They took turns throwing back shots, continuing to use each other's bare chests as the salt platform and kissing each other deeply after sucking up the juice of the lemon perched in their mouths.

When Victor realized that the tequila was almost done and it was his last turn, he decided it was time to give Mulder a dose of his own medicine. So he left behind a hickey the size of an Oreo cookie - and almost as dark as one too - right next to Mulder's right nipple.

Let him explain that at the Bureau swimming pool. Victor thought cheerily, delighted with his own workmanship.

Mulder finished the last of his tequila and sucked the lemon out of Victor's mouth, spitting the rind hard into the bowl where the rest of the spent peels lay. Barely fazed by the break in the action, Mulder continued kissing Victor. The tequila worked like aphrodisiac, making him horny in the extreme. He hoped that Victor had the stamina to hold out through the rest of the night. He knew that, come tomorrow morning, both of them were going to feel like someone had kicked the shit out of them; making sex in any shape or form out of the question.

Lucky for him, tequila aroused Victor and didnt inhibit his sexual desire. Shedding the rest of their restrictive clothing, the men did not care that they were sticky from the lemon juice and salt. Because he was slightly nervous and more than a little drunk, Mulder's hands shook as he undid his fly. Tonight, he didn't want to be the one to do the screwing, but the one to be made love to. They hadn't done that yet, and he desperately wanted to feel Victor inside of him before he left. "Will you make love to me, Victor?" He asked of his lover shyly.

"Oh yeahhh, baby," Victor whispered unhesitatingly. Mulder's request was music to his ears, he had never made love that way before and though hed had thoughts about it running through his head all weekend, he had been unsure how to go about asking his lover. When Fox hadnt offered on his own, Victor just assumed that Mulder was probably only into being on top all the time. That was still fine with him, though he was highly curious about doing it the other way. Victor, who was now already completely naked, sat and watched as his lover kicked away the jeans that were pooled around his ankles.

He walked over to stand in front of Victor and sighed as the other man's strong arms circled around his waist. Mulder ran his hands through Victor's short hair and hugged the man's head close to him. When he felt the tip of Vic's tongue in his navel, he leaned his head back, basking in the exquisite sensation as the tongue went in, pulled out, and ran all around his belly button.

Victor inhaled Fox's scent deeply, wanting to remember him, knowing that these last few moments would have to last a month, or maybe even more.

As if on cue, both men stilled in unison, each regarding the other in silence.

Mulder decided that he wanted to do something that would make this weekend unforgettable to Victor and to banish thoughts of any other man from his Canadian lover's head. So without warning, he pushed Victor back against the couch and straddled his lap.

Victor looked up at Mulder, his eyes opening up wide with surprise and desire. "Fox, what" He began, but before he even needed to finish the sentence, he found out what Mulder had planned.

Using only the liquid seeping from the end of Victor's cock as lubricant, Mulder impaled himself on his younger lovers erection quickly and efficiently, not even stopping to adjust to Victor's considerable circumference. It hurt like hell, but Mulder, being just slightly kinkier than Victor, realized he liked a little pain thrown into the mix - in fact he wanted it to hurt, wanted to feel the ache, to make remembering the lovemaking easier. He wanted to relive that it was Victor Mansfield who liberated him from obsession over Alex Krycek; that it was Victor Mansfield who had accepted Fox Mulder for himself, because he wanted to, not because he had been assigned to. The feelings he held for Victor were genuine, and it had been a long time since he had allowed himself to 'feel' for another person this way.

Victor gasped as Mulder bore down on him; the older man was sooo tight. The tightest fit he had ever felt. He didn't mean that to be a knock against LiAnn, but this was just such a different sensation.

Only when Mulder had Victor fully buried to the hilt inside of him did he pause to catch his breath, and once he had, he began to ride Victor in an up and down motion while slowly moving his hips in a circular clockwise motion. Acting on instinct alone, Victor grabbed hold of Mulder's hips to help him along. Mulder shut his eyes and leaned back, balancing backward on his hands, which were resting on Victor's thighs just above his knees. They moved together in unison for only a short time before Victor began to feel his orgasm build. Knowing that he was about to reach his climax any second, Victor left one hand resting on Mulder's hip, while with the other, he grasped Foxs cock and began to pump it up and down in time with the pace that his lover had set for them.

"Yeah! Oh YES!" Mulder cried out. "Oh! Victor. Oh God, I love you! Yes! That's it, right there!" Mulder could take no more and was overwhelmed by an intense orgasm.

As if on cue, Victor erupted to Mulder's confession of love, filling him full of the juice that was meant to make another life.

Collapsing onto Victor's chest, Fox lay, spent, as Vic wrapped his arms around him. Giving Mulder a rib-crushing hug, Vic whispered tenderly into his ear, "I think I love you too."

Mulder heard Vic's words loud and clear but he could not believe his ears. With more than a little regret, he wished that this could be the beginning of a 'normal' relationship between Victor and himself, but wherever their paths led them, Mulder knew that Victor had set the standards to which all others would have to measure up.

No easy feat!

Mulder was pulled from his melancholic revelry by Victor's warm hands gently running up and down his back; the Canadian's touch as light as a downy feather. As Victor rubbed at Mulder's back with large hands, he revelled in the warmth of the other man's sweaty skin; here was a man whod ignited a fire inside of him like no other person had ever done.

Only you, Fox. "Come on Fox, let's go to bed." Victor said out loud.

Mulder gingerly stood up and smiled sleepily down at his lover. He was tired. In fact, both of them were. The clock on the wall read 12:55 AM already. They were both drunk and had to be up early so without further fooling around, they stumbled off to bed.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Monday.

The mid-morning light shone through the partially open blinds, its warm rays landing directly upon the two sleeping men. The two of them were so tightly wound around each other that they resembled conjoined twins.

It was the cheerful sunlight that eventually woke Mulder - that and the urge to urinate. He slowly came awake, but he put off getting up, unwilling to break the bond between himself and his lover. He really wanted the moment to last just a few minutes more, but the urge to piss won out, so, reluctantly, he got up and padded naked out of the door and down the hall. Mulder grinned at the sight of Victor's bare back upon his return from the bathroom and unable to control his urge he crawled back into the warm bed and nuzzled Victor's neck, enjoying the rasp of the man's dark beard against his cheek. Victor sighed in contentment before rolling over unaware.

He took Mulder's arm with him and held it close to his chest - close to his heart. He was expressing in his sleep what he could not admit to Mulder while he was awake - that he did not want him to leave.

Mulder spooned in behind the sleeping man, wishing that the dull pounding headache the tequila had given him would go away. He wondered idly if Victor even had any Tylenol in the place, but then Victor didn't even have condoms. Mulder guessed that his lover was probably the type to tough out a headache.

After awhile, Mulder craned his head back and looked at the small digital clock on the night stand with two bloodshot eyes. 11:00 AM. Still two hours before his flight left. He sat up slowly, cradling his throbbing head in his hands while Victor slumbered on. Mulder knew they should get up and eat. He had a nagging feeling that there was something else they were forgetting, but he couldn't remember what. As he sat there musing and wondering, he was startled out of his thoughts by the shrill ring of Victor's phone. Twisting his head to stare at the answering machine that sat next to the clock Mulder mumbled, "Christ, my head hurts" to the inanimate object. Victor, he noticed, didn't even so much as stir at the sound. Mulder smiled when the answering machine finally picked up and he heard Vic's terse "Leave a message".

A female voice rang out harsh and angry: "Victor, pick up. Its Monday morning Mr. Mansfield and you're an hour late for the meeting. Mac and Li Ann are already here waiting to debrief you, and I want that profile, so get your ass over here NOW!" The woman actually sounded furious.

Must be the Dragon Lady, mused Mulder absently.

Then it hit him full on like a sledge hammer. Monday morning. Meeting. Dragon lady. Profile.

"Oh shit!" cursed Fox, as he shook Victor vigorously. "Get up, Vic! You're late!" He had to give Victor another heavy shake before the prone man showed signs that he was beginning to come around.

"Huh? Whats up?" Muttered the very disoriented Victor. Confusion showed on his face. In the meantime, Mulder had already gotten out of bed and was rummaging around his bag for some underwear.

"Your boss just called, youre late for your meeting!" Fox stopped what he was doing then, and he couldn't help but laugh at the sight of his lover, who was sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Victor's hair was standing on end all over his head, and he resembled a porcupine.

Victor stuck out his tongue and stared at it cross-eyed. He grimaced at what little he could see of it. His tongue felt like it had fur on it, and after last night he wouldn't be a bit surprised if it did. "What time is it?" He ran his fingers through his hair trying to smooth it down. Like Mulder had done earlier, he wished away the pain in his head unsuccessfully.

"After eleven. Your boss just phoned and left a message. She sounded pretty pissed off." Mulder gave up his search for clothes, it was moot considering how badly he needed a shower anyway and that slipping clean underwear over a dirty body would be pointless.

"Oh God. I'm so dead!" Victor groaned as he flopped back down onto his pillow. However, he found it hard to muster up much concern. An hour late, or two, it didn't make much difference. He knew he was knee-deep in shit no matter how long or short of a time he was late. Victor reached towards his lover, "Come back to bed Mulder. She can wait; they can wait. You're more important."

Mulder grinned down at Victor, "Well twist my rubber arm, why don't you?" And so saying, he leapt back beneath the covers to accept his lover's tantalizing invitation. Together they found a few more ways to make Victor even later for his meeting.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Pearson Airport.

More than a few heads turned to watch the two agents walk across the airport, but the men were oblivious to all the appraising looks the women were giving them; they had eyes only for only each other. At the airport, Victor had parked his truck far away from the terminal so that no unsuspecting, parking-lot security personnel would happen upon them. Theyd wanted total privacy while they said their final farewells since they couldn't do it properly out in public.

When a monotonous female voice warned that it was the "Final boarding call for flight 116, leaving at gate G in 15 minutes," Mulder and Victor stood up together.

Victor walked in silence alongside his lover, not really knowing what more to say. When they reached the gate, Mulder embraced Victor tightly, relaying his sadness at having to go home through his hug. Grabbing Victor by the sides of his face Mulder rested his forehead against the others, but they did not kiss. Not here, like this, in such a public place.

Mulder whispered, "I'll miss you... shadowy government agent."

"I'll miss you too, G-man." Victor said softly, tenderness flooded his eyes, although neither man was the type to cry.

Finally, Mulder broke away from Victor, spun on his heel and walked through the automatic glass doors. He stopped to look back and gave one last smile and wave to the man who had opened up his eyes to how good life could be.

Victor waved back and returned the smile, watching the biggest secret he would ever keep from his partners walk away from him. He just stood there, watching Mulders back, until the man turned the corner and Vic could see him no more.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor walked out into the bright sunshine of the late afternoon. The pleasant heat of the day did nothing to cheer him up. Mulder had gone, and once again, he was alone. Of course, Mulder didn't have a choice in the matter, he'd had to leave, to get back to his own job and his own partner. It hadnt been easy for them to say goodbye, but there was no help for it and knowing how they felt about each other, made it all the more difficult.

The realization that he was falling in love with another man, a man he had just met, hit Victor like a ton of bricks.

How did this happen? Last Friday I'm in the Director's office, complaining about having to baby sit an out of towner; thinking of ways to get back into her good books by Monday. And now here I am, late for an important meeting, in deeper shit then when I started out. FUCK!

Victor shook his head, unlocked the driver's side door to his truck and climbed in. He took the long way to work, delaying the inevitable for just a few moments more. He wanted a little more time to be alone with Mulder, even if it was only in his mind.

While driving, all of his thoughts were all centered on him and Mulder. What they had done, how they had done it and the words of endearment that they had spoken to each other afterwards.

Victor flushed with the memories.

When Mulder had whispered into his ear, 'I think I'm falling for you,' just the very idea of Mulder being crazy in lust with him made Victor smile all over again. After LiAnn had called off their engagement, Victor had sunk into a blue funk. Their break-up had left him feeling as if there was something wrong with him, that he was unlovable and incapable of truly loving someone else in return.

Then Fox Mulder had come along and now everything had changed.

Mulder had shown him that he was desirable, and worth loving. Hed also shown Victor that he was capable of reciprocating those emotions and able to feel deeply for someone again.

Victor was no longer empty inside.

The mask he had been wearing to cover his true feelings had finally come off; he had never felt so comfortable - so complete before. It was difficult for Victor to admit to himself that it had been a man who had finally made him see what he had been missing in his life, and harder still for him to admit that it was the very same man who had shown him the way that he had fallen and fallen hard for. Feeling like this over a guy was not what hed ever expected. Hed been denying and burying his emotions for so long that he himself didn't even know the full extent of them.

Victor had always assumed that he would marry and father children, and that carnal love didn't necessarily have to be part of the package; after all he had been able to perform for LiAnn when it had seemed necessary. In fact, Victor was used to not getting what he wanted. Suppressing his desires and going through life feeling numb had become a habit, a habit that Fox Mulder had helped to break.

As these thoughts and many like them meandered through Victor's brain, he was disappointed to see that even though he had taken the long way around, hed still arrived at work, far too soon for his own liking.

Five hours late, but nevertheless, here he was, at work.

Well, may as well go in and get it over with.

His partners would no doubt be furious with him. At the agency it was an all for one and one for all mentality. Translation: when one person was in trouble they all caught shit. Victor hoped that the Director had been merciful and sent the other two home already. He hated to think that they had been trapped in the quiet office with her all this time. Of course, the Director liked to punish her agents every now and again, so it would not be a big stretch to find out that they had been forced to wait for Victor to arrive.

Like a man meeting his final hour, Victor walked down the long, deserted hallway and rounded the corner to the meeting room. At the glass doors, he paused just long enough to reign in his thoughts of the weekend. Then, swallowing hard, he pushed open the door.

And there she was, the Director, sitting there placidly in her large black leather chair, awaiting his arrival. Just a black widow spider lying in wait for a fly to cross her path.

For his part, Victor remained as calm as his boss. His face was a perfect mask of control, none of the turbulence that he felt in his stomach showed on the surface at all. He did not smile, but said with a cheeky wit, "Am I late?" Not the smartest one liner he had ever come up with, but bold considering his suspicion that the Director wanted to cut his balls off and feed them to the tank of piranhas that she no doubt kept at her apartment.

The Director, stood up, pointed her finger at Victor and said calmly, "Youve got some nerve, you asshole. I told you to be here at ten this morning. And before you ask, I took pity on your partners, who, even though they flew out in the middle of the night, managed to be here on time to brief me. Them, I sent home. Now where the hell were you?"

I got hung up trying to finish the profile; that Mulder guy was kinda flaky," lied Victor, evenly. "He made it really hard for me to work." Another half truth. The Director was way too calm, and Victor was starting to grow suspicious.

The Director stepped out from around her desk and picked up a small remote control. "Hand over the profile, Mansfield," she instructed.

Victor tossed the sealed envelope containing the documents that he and Fox had worked on onto the large table that had three empty chairs around it, while the Director aimed her remote at a small video player nestled in the wall of her office.

"Sit."

Victor pulled out a leather chair and dropped himself into it, waiting to see what the catch was. He knew that The Director wouldn't let his missed meeting just slide by. Something was up all right, trained agent that he was, he could feel it in his bones.

Watch the screen." Was all the Director said, then she pushed the play button and waited patiently for the fallout.

Victor watched the screen as it slowly faded in from black. The footage looked like surveillance video of someone's bedroom, and he suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut. The camera focused in closer on its targets; two men in a large bed, engaged in intimate relations anal sex, to be exact.

The two men were Fox Mulder and Victor Mansfield. Recognition dawned on Vics face.

OH SHIT, he thought, then, It's us. THAT BITCH!

The Director pushed the pause button, and the frame froze on the two men spooned together in the afterglow of orgasm. She turned and faced Victor, the horror of being taped written all over his handsome face. "Now correct me if I'm wrong," she laid her left pointer finger on her cheek, "...but that is the FBI agent Fox Mulder with his dick up your ass, is it not?" The Director smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Hmm. ?"

The shock finally wore off Victor, and he stood up angrily, knocking the chair that he had been sitting in backwards, away from himself. He had never been more furious in his whole life. This was it; he'd had it with the Director and the whole agency. He was not going to put up with this type of shit from her anymore.

"How dare you?" He roared at his superior. "You've got no right coming into my place and spying on me!"

"Oh I have every right, and don't you ever forget it!" She flung back at him, finally permitting her own rage to surface.

"You have no business. I pay for that place on my own. With my own money! Earned dodging bullets for you every fucking single day that I'm on the job!" His outrage clearly taking over, Victor was not about to back down from this one. "What I do or don't do in MY house is MY business. I am not one of your lap dogs, freeloading the rent and the bills." He took a deep breath and continued, still every bit as pissed off, but no longer shouting. "I'm a big boy, I pay my own way." Victor stared into the Director's eyes, the icy depths of green cutting right through her. "I quit." He said quietly.

There. It needed saying and he had said it. That was easier than he thought it would be.

The Director, with an astonished look on her face stammered, "You what?" She couldn't believe her own ears.

You heard me," answered Victor. "I quit. This organization sucks, and so do you for that matter. Who the hell are you to do this to me? What did you think? That I would let you hold this little movie of yours over my head? Well don't hold your breath, because you'll turn blue. I'm 'outta here. Show it at the next briefing, for all I care."

The truth was Victor did care; there was no way in heaven that he wanted anybody else to see that tape. Especially not Mac or LiAnn, but Victor had no control over anything the Director said or did. All he could do was control his own fate and actions. Quitting seemed the best way to assure that no one would see his first starring role in an agency production. After all, once he was gone, who would care? His partners would only start over, with a new member for their team. Victor continued to glare at the Director, the look on her face was priceless.

She couldn't believe that one of her agents actually had the balls to talk to her that way.

Victor turned his back on her and began walking away. He was already thinking about what he would do next to put food on his table and had managed to get about half way to the doors before he heard it, the tell tale click of a gun being cocked. Victor froze, then slowly turned around, making no move for his own weapon. "What?" He said, sarcastically. "First you violate me and now you won't allow me the dignity of leaving on my own terms?"

The Director had indeed pulled her own firearm, and she was deadly serious. Enough was enough. She had allowed Victor to vent, but she was tired of his attitude, and quitting was out of the question; Mansfield was a dreamer if he thought otherwise. The Director's outstretched arm holding the large gun did not waver or shake in the least, her aim dead on, An invisible bulls-eye painted over Victor's heart, the target. "Sit down." She instructed coldly.

Victor walked slowly back to the table, picked up the chair that he had knocked over and sat in it. What's that phrase? Oh yeah, Resistance is futile.

"Now are you calm?" The Director asked. Victor merely nodded his head. "Good, because you know there is no way you can quit, so get that idea out of your pretty little head right now. Besides, you don't really want to quit, everything's such a goddamned principle to you, Victor."

The Director sounded more exasperated than angry. "Now, I promise you that I won't show that tape to anyone. But I need to remind you of the ground rules first." She walked to the table and glared right back at Victor, not afraid of him in the least, "...The next time you go renegade on me, or lie to me or balk at any job I see fit to give you, I won't show this movie of mine to any one up here. Nooo, I'll ship it first class to the J. Edgar Hoover building. To the care of one A.D. Skinner. Lover boy's boss. You know how homophobic that organization is? I'll tell you how bad they are, it's not; Don't tell and we won't ask. But; don't do it at all or youre gone. Let me tell you, Mr. Mansfield, the minute they get one look at that tape of you and your friend, he will be out on his ass so fast he won't even have the time to ask about his pension plan."

She had won by hitting Victor where it would hurt him the most - by threatening Mulder. The Director knew that Victor could not be bested by simply showing him a little bit of erotica that he had made. No, she had to go for the jugular, and that meant going after Fox Mulder. She knew that the FBI agent would come in handy. Mulder was Victor's Achilles heel, and thank the goddess for it. The Director looked at Victor, waiting to hear what he had to say to her very real threat.

Victor looked sideways, knowing that he couldn't hurt Mulder that way. No help for it then. He swallowed his pride and said flatly, "Okay. You win. What do you want from me?"

Like I said," she continued, in an obnoxious, gloating manner. "All I want is for you to behave yourself from now on. No more arguing with me. No more fucking up evidence. Just do your job, do it right and get it into your thick skull that I'm the boss around here. You cannot win when it comes to being in a contest with me. The sooner you realize that, Victor, the easier your job will be. Christ almighty, Mac and LiAnn clued in ages ago. You're so stubborn." She laughed humorously.

Defeated, Victor looked up from the spot that he had been staring at on the table top, "Anything else?" he mumbled.

"No, leave the profile with me, and I'll read it later. Go home now and be here tomorrow at 9:00 A.M. sharp. Looks like you three might be needed in this homeless murder thing after all. Oh yes," she added, "I took all the bugs and cameras out after the two of you went out on the town Saturday night. There's nothing left in your apartment."

Victor stood, taking his cue to leave. "Thanks, but don't do me any favors, eh." He turned around and started to walk away, thinking as he went how he was going to have to phone Mulder and let him in on what had happened. Victor pushed open the doors and started down the long lonely hall to go home.

The Director watched her agent's retreating back. Naive fool that he was, he believed her. She had been lying when she said that no one else would see the tape. Dobrinsky had seen it all already, though he was not very happy about it. The Director felt absolutely no guilt about either the filming or about lying to Victor; that was why she made such a good director for the agency.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor pulled into his parking space and shut the truck off. He sat in silence for a few minutes staring into space, before he finally got out of the vehicle and locked the doors behind himself. He had originally planned on going upstairs immediately and phoning Mac to see how things went in Greenland. Touching base with his partners was a ritual of his. But he had heard his stomach grumble and realized that he had not eaten a bite since breakfast, and that meal had consisted of swallowing down Mulder's cock chased by a piece of dry toast to combat the hangover. Victor walked out of the underground parking lot and went up to the street. He turned right and headed straight for the little pizza joint he favoured. Once inside he ordered a small pepperoni and mushroom on a thin crust.

The proprietor informed Victor that it would be a thirty minute wait for the take-out. "Sorry." He said to his regular customer.

"No problem, I'll come back for it in a bit." Victor left the small restaurant and walked to the local park, where he sat on a lonely bench, far away from everything and everybody. The location reflected his mood; lonely and desolate. He needed to be by himself.

Looking up at the stars into the night sky he thought of Mulder. They had sat together on the very same bench only two nights ago and gazed up into the very same firmament, speculating on the probabilities that life may be out there. Lost in deep thought, Victor never even heard the intruder approach, but he did freeze when he caught the click of a switch blade and felt its sharp point digging in at the soft flesh of his throat.

Don't move, or I'll drop you here and now," whispered a husky male voice. The man's breath stank of cigarettes and beer. Victor's stomach turned over at the smell.

Thinking that he was in the process of being mugged, Victor questioned, "What do you want? My wallet?" He pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket.

The assailant, still holding the knife, whispered angrily into Victor's ear, "I told you not to move!"

Victor saw the man's other hand come around to the front of his face, and in it was a small aerosol can. He tried to grab at the hand with the knife and at the other hand holding what Victor thought was pepper spray at the same time. But the move was in vain. The man sprayed him directly in the face, before Vic could truly defend himself. He struggled for a few seconds then the night sky went from blurry to completely black, rendering Victor unconscious and helpless.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor woke very slowly. His brain was a mass of confusion and he didnt fully understand exactly where he was or what was going on. He remembered that a stranger had tried to rob him in the small park near his apartment but that was it.

No. That's not right.

He had only thought that the man was trying to rob him. But the assailant hadnt not gone for his money but had instead sprayed him in the face with something powerful and noxious when hed tried to fight him off.

No wonder I'm lying here feeling like shit.! As Victor spoke to himself, the fog in his brain slowly began to lift.

The agent's carefully honed survival instincts told him to lie still and feign sleep; his body obeyed the silent command. He knew by the warmth of the air that he was somewhere indoors, exactly where remained to be seen. Victor could also tell by the rough material against his back that he was shirtless. The chill of his feet made him aware that they were bare as well, and once he concentrated hard enough, Victor could also feel a cold metal bracelet around his left ankle The weight of the jeans against his thighs let him know that - to his relief - his pants were, at least, still on.

Where are the rest of my clothes? And why am I cuffed and to what? Why was I snatched in the first place?

Victor didn't know the answers to these questions yet, but he planned on finding out one way or another. The idea that maybe the Director had set him up passed briefly through his mind. Maybe teach 'bad boy' Vic a lesson or two.

But going this far? No. Even this was too much for her. He knew that The Director liked biting into your jugular and sucking the life right out of you. But she took her pleasure in letting you know that it was her who was doing it.

No, this must be some other perp, he thought, for lack of a better word. Maybe an old enemy?

As the numerous possibilities of who it might be ran though his brain, Victor became aware of something else; the need to urinate.

Before he actually woke up, Victor stopped his breathing so he could listen for sounds that might reveal another person in the room with him. Nothing. It was quiet, way too quiet. In fact, Victor couldn't hear a single noise. No passing traffic, honking horns or sirens wailing at all; no sounds associated with the city. However, if he was being held in the countryside, why couldn't he hear the usual noises associated with mother nature, like frogs croaking or birds calling out? Most likely, he deduced, he was still in the city. Stashed away some place quiet, locked up in some sort of jail cell or isolation room. He cracked his eyelids slightly, but all he could make out was a grey wall

No help for it then, I have to open up my eyes to see where I am.

Victor's lids fluttered then opened up, the minute he did that, the ceiling immediately began to spin in circles. He slammed his lids shut and waited for the spinning to stop. When it finally did, he sat up slowly. Though the room was no longer whirling, Victor still felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The dizziness he was experiencing was worse than he'd ever felt before.

Oh, God. I'm going to be sick.

Victor didn't fancy the idea of puking, so he tried breathing deeply through his nose, but the effort was in vain. His stomach kept churning, over and over again. Unable to hold back his gorge, Victor leaned to his right and dry-heaved onto the cold cement floor. He had not eaten in well over twelve hours. So there was nothing in his tender stomach to give except bile, and up it came, leaving its foul taste behind. When Victor was done retching, he worked up a mouthful of saliva and spat it on the floor, adding it to the bluish tinged puddle. He used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and chin; noticing that his chest and forehead were sweating. Caused by the after effects of being gassed, he supposed.

Victor looked all around the room for a toilet, and saw that there was none; there was no sink or window either. The tiny room was composed of four, all-grey concrete brick walls with only one door leading in or out of the small cell. The single door looked like any other door that you would see in the front of a suburban home, right down to the peephole in the centre, but the peephole in this door was meant to look in at him, not he out. Victor bent over and peeked under the narrow cot on which he was sitting and was pleased to find a large metal bucket that had no handle. Pulling out the bucket, he contemplated how he was going to manage this feat.

The other, free half of the cuff around his ankle was locked to about two feet of chain, that was in turn, welded to a large metal eye cemented into the wall. Victor gave it an experimental tug, but the chain was firmly attached; there would be no pulling it out of the wall. He quit entertaining plans of escape for the moment and scooted to the foot of the cot; having just enough play in the chain to hang his imprisoned limb over the end. He placed the bucket on the floor accordingly and took aim, sighing at his release. When he was done, Victor shook, buttoned up and pushed the bucket back under the foot of the bed. The notion of liberating himself was back on his mind now. But how?

Relieved that his hands were unbound, Victor felt around the mattress, hoping to find a loose bedspring to straighten out and pick the lock with. To his disappointment the bed was stuffed with some sort of hardened foam chips. Okay, he reasoned, A piece of metal from the bed frame.

No such luck there either, the frame was made of wood, not even a stiff splinter could be gleaned from its smoothly-sanded surface. As a last resort, he went through the pockets of his jeans, hoping to come up with something - even the silver foil wrapper from his favourite chewing gum might help, but he was completely out of luck. His pockets had been cleaned out by whomever it was that had taken him. And whoever it was, they had been very thorough. Victor could find nothing that could be culled from his immediate surroundings. As he sat there musing, a fresh wave of dizziness hit him, and he flopped over back down on the bed in frustration, waiting for the spell to pass. Suddenly exhaustion rolled over Victor. His lids became heavy, and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Lying there with his eyes closed, he hoped that Mac and LiAnn would realize that he was missing.

They would eventually of course, but convincing the Director that he was genuinely gone was another matter. However, he was confident that they would come looking for him, sooner or later. Victor just hoped it was sooner rather than later. As he lay there perfectly still, he tried to recall exactly what had happened to him, he remembered trying to pull his wallet out of his jacket pocket and the unknown man with the bad breath had slapped it away. Maybe, if he was really lucky the wallet was still near the bench. At least it would give his partners a starting place. His thoughts slowly began to drift, and even though he tried to fight it, sleep finally over took him, his body unable to cope with the after effects of the nerve gas'.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor's kidnapper, a man named Jack, stood and watched his prisoner through the small peep hole in the door. He could see by the way this one acted when he had awoken that he was smart - smarter than the other men he had found in the various parks over the years. This one also was better fed and stronger too. His body was fit, his muscles well defined. Jack could see that his newest captive had been living a good life, not the life fraught with hunger and fright, which only came from being homeless. Jack had had the good fortune to spot the good-looking man leaving the pizza restaurant on Saturday night, and right away hed known that he had to have this particular man.

His looks were perfect for Jacks needs'.

Jack was glad that the other man, the one who his victim had been with, had finally gone. Although hed had to wait a few extra days for his captive to be alone, the wait had been well worth it; Jack's perseverance had paid off. He hoped that this delicious prisoner would fight back; making him harder to break. Crushing the green eyed man's spirit would be a challenge, a challenge that Jack looked forward too with keen anticipation.

Jack let the man sleep, it was time for him to rest too. Morning would come soon enough. And when it did, his prisoner would wish that he had never been born. Jack licked his lips at the sight of the prone, shirtless captive lying on the bed, and taking one last look, he turned to make his way to his own sleeping area.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

LiAnn avoided The Director's wrath by taking her sweet time reading the profile Victor had worked on over the weekend, never lifting her eyes once from the white sheets of paper.

Mac on the other hand had no defence; LiAnn had the only copy of the document they were supposed to be studying.

The Director paced back and forth, stopping in front of Mac to demand yet again, "Phone him."

"I just did; still no answer." Mac swallowed hard and tried reading the papers in front of his partner sideways. LiAnn leaned forward and propped her head up with her hand, effectively blocking Mac's view. Coward he thought.

The Director slapped the table with the palm of her hand to get Mac's attention. It worked; the young agent swung his eyes forward. "I said, call him again." She shook her finger and glared at Mac, as if somehow it was his fault that Victor was an hour late for the meeting.

Mac did as he was told and immediately hung up when Victor's answering machine picked up for the fourth time.

LiAnn, having finished reading the profile for the second time, passed it casually over to Mac and piped in cheerily, "I still remember Vic's code for his answering machine; maybe I should check his messages, get an idea of what he's up to?" The Director quit scowling at Mac and smiled brightly at LiAnn.

"That's my girl. Do it. Mac, dial Vic's number again." Mac reached back inside his coat pocket and retrieved the phone, dialled up Victor and made a sour face at LiAnn, as he handed the cell to her.

She snatched the proffered appliance from Mac's hand, sticking out her tongue as she did so. After Victor's short and to the point "Leave a message" was over, LiAnn punched in the code numbers. She heard two messages from early Monday morning, both from the Director. Then to her surprise one from late Monday night, left by a man, whose voice she did not recognize.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Hey, shadowy government agent man, how are you? How was the meeting? I guess youre still in I,." the voice chuckled softly into the phone, "Or you would have picked up by now. I wanted to let you know that the flight was good. I got home okay.

The unknown man's voice turned sombre, and continued on huskily,

"The minute I took off I wanted to turn the plane around so I could see you again. God Vic, I can't get you out of my mind. I'm so crazy for you -- you know that don't you? Having to wait until next month just so I can look into your beautiful green eyes again Christ Vic,.. You, I and the weekend I I don't know what else to say except that it was the best ever. Phone me when you get in, don't worry about the time, I'll be up. Talk to you later."

There was a few seconds of silence then the male voice added a tender, "Miss you," before hanging up.

The man had not left his name, but obviously Vic would know who it was. Who could it be? LiAnn knew every one Victor knew, but she couldn't even begin to hazard a guess as to who this caller was.

LiAnn, who had been blushing furiously, waved away the expectant looks of the other two, more as a comfort gesture to cover her own confusion, and when she heard Mac's messages, she broke the connection.

"What?" Stammered LiAnn, "Oh, yeah. Well no messages - just the ones from you and Mac." She dithered as the other two continued to stare at her, waiting. Mac knew she was lying about something, and so, for that matter, did the Director.

Now the Director was getting worried; after last night she had thought that she and Victor were on the same wavelength. There was no way he would jeopardize Mulder this way. Victor knew that she would follow through on her threat to expose Mulder to his superiors if need be. No something must have happened, although exactly what, she couldn't say.

The Director cut off her thoughts and said to Mac, "Get over to Vic's place and see what's going on. Phone in if you come up with anything. LiAnn, looks like this case," The Director gestured towards the desk where the open file containing the information concerning the park murders lay, "...needs our help after all. You can stay here, and I'll brief you on what's been happening. Why are you still here, Mac?" The Director stared hard at the lone male agent, "Goodbye."

Mac spun on his heel and walked as fast as he could to the exit doors.

When it came to secrets, Mac had to be in on them, so if LiAnn knew Victor's code for his machine, well then Mac had to know it too - childish yes, but it was part of his boyish charm. With a quick glance, Mac had been able to memorize the numbers LiAnn had used without her even knowing. The young agent didn't want to admit it, but he was beginning to worry too. Vic always phoned him to touch base when and if they were working opposite ends of a case. Victor had not checked in last night, and that, coupled with the no-show at the meeting today well, it was enough to make him wonder. Mac pulled out his cell phone and punched in Victor's number, then, when the answering machine had finished talking, he punched in the code.

Mac half listened, bored with the Directors messages, then he heard one left by an unfamiliar male voice, and he couldn't believe his ears. Some guy telling Victor that he was crazy for him, that he couldn't get him out of his mind, that he missed him.

What was Victor up too this weekend?

Until fifteen seconds ago, Mac would have sworn that he knew Victor better than any one, even LiAnn, but now, after hearing that' message, he didn't know anymore. Mac hung up and pocketed his phone, more determined than ever to find out what was going on. Wondering as he walked to his car just when Victor had started liking guys, and how come he, Mac, had never picked up on the fact.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor slowly began to regain consciousness; the last thing he remembered was falling back to sleep on the cot. It took him a few seconds to orient himself.

Where am I now?

He breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to shake out the cobwebs that clouded his mind. He tried to sit up, but he couldn't move, it was then that he realized that he was restrained. Once again he was in a small room, not much larger than the last one. Lifting his head, he looked back and forth, scanning not only his surroundings but also the restraints that held him down. He was spread-eagle, flat on his back in four point restraints that were reminiscent of the type that had been seen in use at old-time psychiatric hospitals. The archaic devices were made of stiff leather with heavy metal buckles, there was sheep's wool lining on the inside of the leather to prevent chafing. All four restraints were pulled tightly around Victor's ankles and wrists and the circulation was constricted, leaving him with the irritating sensation of pins and needles' in his hands and feet. Victor was relieved to see that he, at least, still had on his jeans, although his upper torso and feet were still bare.

A man coughed from a darkened corner somewhere in the room. A deep voice spoke to Victor. intoning ominously, "Good, youre awake; now we can start."

The agent made no reply to the voice, he just watched curiously as the man that went with the voice came out of the shadows, pulling a metal surgical tray behind him. On the tray there was a small metal bowl that was about the size of a quarter cup measure, a needle-still in the manufacturer's wrapping, one glass of water, surgical tubing, a single white candle secured to the center of an old tuna can, matches and a small brown packet no bigger than a postage stamp. Victor did not like the looks of the stuff on the tray, especially the needle and brown packet. He was an ex-cop who had worked narcotics, the tray contained items that would typically be described as works'.

Tools for a junkie. NOT GOOD! he thought.

The man stood over his captive and looked down asking gruffly, "What's your name?"

Victor still would not speak to his captor, instead giving the man an unblinking, even stare.

So Jack -- who liked this part of the interrogation -- leaned over and punched his prisoner in the stomach as hard as he could.

All of Victor's breath was lost at once, in one giant whoosh'. He gulped and gasped, trying to fill up his lungs with oxygen once more. The pain of having all of the air knocked out of him made his eyes tear up, creating the illusion that his eyes were even a deeper green than usual.

Jack like the effect, it turned him on. He was going to take his time with this prisoner, enjoying him while he lasted. "I'll do it again unless you tell me your name," reminded Jack pleasantly.

Victor managed to get his pain under control and blinked back the watery drops coming from the corners of his eyes. He wheezed out a simple "Victor." Then came all of his questions, "Who the hell are you any way? Did the Director send you? Let me up; why am I tied down? What the hell is the matter with you? Where are my clothes?"

Victor had been planning on not saying a word to this errand boy' for the Director, whom he still suspected just might be behind this. She did, after all have a fetish for bondage and other assorted kinky stuff. However, before he could blurt out another question, Jack leaned in again and hit Victor with a small rabbit punch to the right side of his face, immediately cutting off anything else the agent had been about to say. The punch, though not too heavy handed, stung and a purple bruise, from the top of Victor's eyebrow to his cheek bone, began to show instantly.

Jack grabbed Victor's face in a painful clutch, his thumb under one cheek bone and the other four fingers beneath the other. He held on tightly, forcing the man to look into his face, "I ask the questions here. Don't you speak unless spoken to. Got it?"

Victor tried to pull his face away, but Jack gripped tighter. Victor nodded yes' in understanding.

Good, now for courtesy's sake I'll tell you my name, it's Jack." Jack, while still holding Victor under the cheek bones, leaned over and kissed the restrained man roughly.

Victor tried to turn his head away, but could not.

Jack sucked on Victor's lower lip until it was so tender and sore that a bruise rose to the surface there. Jack let go of Victor and laughed, making the agent's stomach turn over; so that he felt like vomiting all over again. Jack's breath was still bad, though not as awful as it had been the night before.

Victor winced at the terrible taste of the other man in his mouth. Now he was positive that this guy was in no way associated with the agency. Even the Director wouldn't do this to him. The thought of being defenceless against this psycho frightened him. Victor had been scared very few times in his life, but this was one of those occasions. He had to think, try to figure out how he was going to get out of this mess. What if Mac and LiAnn weren't able to find him. Victor assumed that he was on his own; better not to count on them, just in case. He had a feeling that Jack would end up killing him, an inevitable outcome he did not look forward to.

"Who gave you these? That guy I saw you with on the weekend?" Jack asked leering at Victor while he pushed on one of the two big hickeys on his chest that Mulder had given him. Victor turned his face away from Jack, unwilling to drag Mulder into this mess even if it was only metaphysically.

Jack grabbed the large purple spot on Victor's chest and pinched, twisting the flesh painfully until he cried out a hesitant "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Jack exaggerated.

Yes," Victor spat between clenched teeth, tightening up his muscles against the pain, "It was the man you saw me with."

He's going to kill me! He's going to torture me and then kill me.

Victor knew that for the time being, he would just have to endure until a chance to escape came up. He had to come up with some sort of a plan; there was no way that he was just going to lie there and let this guy murder him one piece at a time.

Jack bent his head over and spoke into Victor's face, "Well, lover, I'll do you better than he ever could." Jack sucked the flesh next to one of the hickeys into his mouth and bit down hard, drawing blood. He sucked a little harder then let go. Smiling, he ran a finger across the bleeding wound. Scooping up the red liquid he rubbed it across Victor's lips.

Unwilling to acknowledge that he was hurting, but unable to resist a chance to mouth off, Victor said, Brush your teeth, your breath tastes like shit." Working up as much moisture in his mouth as he could, Vic spat directly into Jack's face - a little act of defiance that earned him another punch to his head, this time to the other side, bringing another bruise to the surface near his eye to match its neighbour. Victor only grunted when he took the punch; no way was going to give this sick fucker the satisfaction of seeing him break down if he could help it. So there Victor lay, already bruised and bloody, and only one day into his captivity.

His captor liked that Victor was so strong willed, strong wills, when they gave in, were a beautiful sight to see. Jack turned away from his captive and mopped up the saliva with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. He pulled the tray close to him and, using the matches, lit the candle. Then he opened up the little brown packet and shook about 1/8 of the pure white powder into the metal bowl.

Ignoring Victor's question of "What are you doing?" Jack drew some of the distilled water out of the glass using the fresh needle as his measure.

"See, it's clean." declared Jack, holding the needle up for Victor to view. He pushed the water out of the needle and into the bowl, using the sharp point of the syringe to mix the contents. Using his sleeve as a make shift pot holder, Jack heated the liquid over the burning candle. And when he was fully satisfied that the concoction had cooked long enough, he put the dish down and blew out the candle. Drawing up a syringe full of the warm potion, he lay the needle aside, and picked up the rubber tubing, knotted it tightly around Victor's right biceps, forcing the healthy veins to the surface of the flesh on the inside crook of Victor's elbow.

Victor was frantically trying to thrash his way out of Jack's grasp, but there was no where to go. "Don't you put that shit in me, man. I swear to god, if you do, I'll kill ya. I mean it."

Jack back-handed Victor across the face, blood spilled from the corner of his lips where a tooth had cut the delicate lining of his mouth.

Laughing at what he assumed were weak, idle threats, Jack truly had no idea who he had kidnapped. Ignorance of his captives abilities was Victor's only advantage in this situation. Ignoring Victor's protests, Jack pinned the agents right arm so it was still. He took up the needle and expertly plunged the sharp metal tip of the syringe into a deep blue vein. Jack depressed some of the liquid into the blood stream and then drew back some of the rich red blood, letting it mix with the rest of the clear fluid. By doing this, Jack gave what little of the drug he had put into Victor's system a chance to race ahead' and make Victor's body more receptive. He didn't want to O.D. his prisoner on the first attempt after all. Jack could tell by looking that Victor was a non-drug user. Making him an addict wouldn't take too long, one only had to have the patience to do it right.

But for the present, all that Jack had on his mind for now was to make Victor pliant, and later on, as the days passed by he could work more seriously on making his captive dependant. Jack silently counted to 60 then pushed the rest of the contents of the hypodermic needle into Victor's rushing blood stream.

Done, Jack pulled out the empty needle and held it up before Victor's eyes, stating triumphantly, "Heroin." He paused for effect and then said, "And in about 48 hours, I'll have you so addicted that you'll be begging me on hands and knees for more."

Victor mumbled groggily, "Fuck you. You're dead..." his voice trailed off, and he was unable to continue coherently. The agent's head lolled to the side as the powerful heroin gripped his virgin system.

Jack grabbed Victor's jaw and jerked him around, looking into the large dilated pupils. Recognizing Victor's state for what it was, he petted back the short hair from the stoned man's brow, excited finally to be able to start.

Jack pulled a silver wrapped condom out of his back pocket and tossed it onto the tray.

Victor was so out of it that he didn't even know what was going on; all he did know was that he had no control over his body. He could feel Jack's hands undoing his button-fly jeans, but he was helpless to stop it.

As his trembling hands pulled down the jeans, stopping at mid thigh, Jack caressed the soft white flesh hidden beneath the material. He breathed in heavily and thought that, of all of his prisoners, Victor was by far the most beautiful of them all.

Victor moaned out a weak protest, but it fell on deaf ears, as Jack stripped off his own clothes with a practiced efficiency. He picked up the condom and the needle and then he hopped up onto the padded table, straddling Victor's chest. Holding the corner of the wrapped condom in his teeth, Jacked ripped it open and spat out the bit of foil. Grabbing Victor's head, he held it straight, "Look at me Victor, open your eyes." He demanded.

Having no will left to fight with, Victor reluctantly did as he was told and opened his eyes. Jack took the condom out of the wrapper and pried open Vic's lips open placing the latex between them. Then he held the point of the needle flush with the skin right below the dazed left eye of Victor and warned malevolently, "Bite me and I'll take your pretty green eye out and feed it to you. Understand?"

Vic nodded feebly, the drugs controlling him.

Jack used his other hand to squeeze Victor's mouth together, forcing him to purse his lips so that the condom was held in place. "Because youre a fag, I'm going to use the rubber. I don't know who you've been fucking, and I don't want one of those faggoty diseases." Pushing his erect cock into the opening of the condom, Jack shoved his whole penis in one deep thrust down Victor's throat making him gag and choke. Jack sighed in contentment as he began to drive his cock in and out in of Victor's mouth with a regular rhythm. He pushed the needle a little harder against the flesh just above Victor's lower orbital bone -- cutting the skin slightly -- and instructed, "Start sucking gorgeous. Blow me, and blow me good if you want to live."

Victor was aware enough to feel shame at being forced, but too far gone from the drugs to resist. So he did as he was told to and breathed through his nose deeply whilst his unresisting mouth pleasured his rapist.

Jack's game had begun.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor retched and choked as Jack pushed his hips forward, pushing his cock as far down Vics throat as possible. Jack thrust viciously, driving into Victor so hard it was as if he was trying to pierce right through his hostage's esophagus.

Jack smiled and gazed down at his latest acquisition "Ooh, yeahh. Anyone ever tell you that you have a mouth like a vacuum? Keep up the suction bay-bee," Jack snickered softly at his own comparison and increased his already fast pace. He had abandoned the needle that he'd been using to threaten Victor with, and settled for using his thumb instead. Jack pressed the thick digit into the soft flesh under Victor's left eye, making it just painful enough that Victor would have a hard time concentrating. Jack used his other hand to hold Victor's head; forcing the imprisoned man to look straight up at him, eyes wide open.

Every time Victor tried to close his eyes and shut out the reality of what he was being forced to do, Jack slapped his face, hard, making him stare up and watch the man who was assaulting him. Blood trickled out of his nose and mouth, and Victor wished that Jack would just hurry up and finish. He had no possible means of escaping, whether it was physically or mentally. The restraints held his body down, and the drugs held him tightly secured within the bonds of a chemical straightjacket.

It got Jack off making Victor look up at him, forcing him to see his dominator. Knowing that he had succeeded in burning his image into Victor's drug-addled brain for a life time.

For Victor, having to acknowledge Jack, took away virtually all of his control; what little he could have in such a situation.

It was all part of the ritual, and before Jack was through with him, he would make the agent do a lot more painful and humiliating things than being forced to perform oral sex. The men who had been in this position before had all thought that if they did what Jack asked without argument, that somehow he would let them go, and Jack had let them think that, the unspoken pretence of release comforting his victims into a false sense of security.

Jack found that it was impossible for him to pull his gaze away from Victor. He stared down, drinking up the deep green of his captive's eyes, mesmerized by them. He had never had a green eyed 'toy' before, and Jack found the large jade orbs to be most compelling. Usually, men who had brown hair had brown eyes, though a few of the men he had taken over the years had blue eyes, those he had kept alive longer because of the novelty.

Yep. thought Jack as he neared orgasm, I think I'll keep this man around a few days more than the usual.

Which meant that Victor had about another five or six days of life remaining, give or take a day. Exactly how long would depend on whether or not Victor angered his captor too much. In Jack's sick mind, all the men he had kidnapped and eventually murdered were merely his 'playthings'. He had found them. He had taken them. They were his to possess.

The thought of possessing another human being, and particularly the human being who was lying beneath him right now, was exhilarating. The sight of his newest one looking up at him, silently begging to be let go; pushed Jack over the edge. He leaned his head back, and with thigh muscles clenching tightly, his orgasm was achieved.

Fortunately, Jack was the type of guy who came in silence, and Victor was relieved. He didn't think that he would be able stand hearing Jack screaming out his name or any of the other number of things a man might cry out in the moment of release.

Satiated and satisfied, Jack released his painful grip he had on Victor. Shuffling himself backwards so that he was sitting on top of Victor's groin, he noted in passing that Vic was not erect at all.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

About half of the others Jack had taken had been erect or semi-erect after, their bodies betraying their minds. He peeled off the used condom, tied a knot in the end and threw it on the metal tray, the condom making a wet "splat" noise when it met with the shiny metal.

Victor rolled his head to the side and spit, trying to erase the taste of latex from his mouth, wishing that his jailor would get off of him so that sweet unconscious oblivion could wash all the way over him. Yes, sleep would be a good thing now.

Jack hopped off the table and with his back to Victor he snorted, "What's the matter Vic? Prefer a little flavour with your rubbers instead?" Laughing at his own un-funny joke he began dressing just as quickly as he had undressed. Looking back over to his shoulder to his prisoner, he was disappointed to find that Victor had passed out.

Well this was bound to happen when a body is not used to such harsh drugs.

Jack finished rolling up his shirt sleeves and stepped to Victor. He reached for the mostly nude man and fondled his private parts briefly, thinking that the unconscious man would need a shower soon. Then he pulled up the blue jeans, carefully doing them up.

Plenty of time for the water games later.

Lucky for Victor, Jack was in no particular hurry to kill him. He walked over to another surgical tray that was hidden amongst the shadows of the dark room, eyed the various instruments laying on it and picked up a pair of metal hand cuffs. Victor may be conked out now, but past experiences told him that his prisoner could wake up at any moment. And just like the Boy Scout motto; Jack thought it best always to be prepared.

Jack, had learned that lesson the hard way.

First Jack undid the right ankle restraint, then walking to the head of the table, he gently unbuckled the right wrist, replacing the leather cuff with the metal one. Then he walked around to Victor's left side and undid the other wrist. Rolling the limp man over to the right with ease, pulling the right arm back, Jack cuffed both wrists snugly together. Only after he was sufficiently satisfied that Victor was not going to wake up, did Jack undo the last piece of leather restraining him. Being 4 inches taller and 25 lbs heavier than Vic, he had no problems hoisting the unconscious man up and balancing him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Jack carried the dead weight back to the concrete room and small uncomfortable bed.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac buzzed the apartment from the front entrance to Victor's apartment. Still no answer. He looked left and right, made sure no one was coming and then pulled out his black lock-picks and in no more than 30 seconds had the main door open.

Shitty security.

Mac thought that by all appearances Vic should be home, his truck was parked in its spot in the underground lot. Getting into the so-called secure lot to check it out had been a piece of cake, hed simply followed another tenants car in.

He was disgusted with the lack of security in the apartment building and spotted glaring errors here, there and everywhere on his way up. The entire building was a B&E artist's dream.

I can't believe Vic lives in such an easily breached place. He's taking a big risk staying here.

Mac had been to Victor's apartment many times before but hed never really noticed before how easy it was for an intruder to slip in and out undetected.

A man in Victor's line of work should be in a tightly controlled building.

Then again Mac lived in just such a building provided by the agency and where had that gotten him? Bugged conversations and invaded privacy - that's where.

Mac pounded on Vic's door, and when it was clear that no one was going to open up, Mac pulled out his key ring and flipped the keys over until he found the one with a capitol V marked on the grip.

Mac had keys to both Victor's and LiAnn's apartments, though they didn't know it. Unlocking and opening the door, Mac called out, "Vic, it's me, man. You home?" No response. He shut the door behind him, taking a second to hook up the security chain. He didn't want to be caught by surprise inside the apartment by anybody. Mac's old tricks from his days as a thief paid off for him time and time again.

He wandered through the kitchen, stopping in the living room to survey the mess. Normally Vic was fastidious when it came to house-keeping. An empty 40 oz. bottle of Tequila left out on the coffee table along with several dried out lemon rinds and two shot glasses glared out at him as if in warning that there was something wrong. A salt shaker lay on its side on the rug, making Mac even more suspicious. He bent over and picked it up, his mind trying to put together the scene that he was seeing.

Ok, so Vic has been drinking.

He replaced the salt shaker on the rug and spoke aloud to a shot glass, "But with who? That guy on the tape?" Mac didn't know, but he seemed like the most probable candidate. The air in the living room had gone stale, old liquor bottles had a way of sucking all of the fresh air in a room and churning out a stale smell that could only be removed by opening a window. The agent wanted to do just that, open up a window but he didn't dare.

He had to maintain the integrity of the apartment just in case the Director wanted to come down and look around herself. And if this turned out to be a crime scene, then everything would have to stay the way Mac found it. He wandered down the hall, peeking into the bathroom he saw a pile of towels laying in the laundry basket.

"That many towels for one guy?" Again Mac spoke aloud. Vic always kept his laundry up. So someone had definitely been here with him. They had showered separately - or together - either way there was enough dirty linen for two.

As soon as Mac pushed open the bedroom door, the smell in the room assaulted him. The tell tale scent of sex was still evident even after a full 24 hours, and judging by the condition of the sheets on the unmade bed, lots of it.

The sheets needed to be washed. Something else Victor would not have normally overlooked. Mac had, after all, been in this bed before, though it was only a joke back then. Mac had had the occasional secret fantasy involving himself and Victor. But he'd always just assumed that Victor was strictly hetero, therefore making any contact other than friendship impossible, and that was ok, these days Mac was mostly into women too - mostly, but not always.

Mac sat on the edge of the bed and pushed the answering machine's play button, double checking to make sure Victor hadn't phoned the machine himself. He looked down as he listened to the Director yell into the phone, and saw that the garbage can was full of Kleenex. He didn't need to be told what they had been used for.

As he stared into the waste can, a thought struck him as listened to the unknown male caller's message again. Victor was supposed to be working all weekend with some guy from the F.B.I., an agent named Mulder. Could he be the one who left the message?

No way, a secret agent and a Fed? Too twisted.

But yet, here was all the evidence, staring him in the face. Circumstantial yes, but evidence all the same. Mac was less than pleased to think that his partner had turned to someone else to become involved. He dropped the jealous thoughts and focused his attention to the real task at hand; the mysterious disappearance of Victor.

Mac knew that the agent had left his apartment sometime Monday afternoon. The Director had confirmed it in her rant this morning that Victor had eventually shown up for work on Monday; several hours late.

Why was he so late? Mac figured he now knew the answer to that question. One last fling before saying goodbye? A late night party capped off with an early morning fuck and a shower. Lucky dog, at least someone was getting laid.

LiAnn, ever the ice princess, had turned him down flat in Greenland, threatening to shoot him if he "Acted up" again.

But if the FBI man, Mulder, has already left and Victor's come and gone from work.....then where the hell is he?

Judging by the state of his apartment, Mac thought it was safe to assume that Victor probably had never even gone back inside his apartment, or else he would have picked up around the place.

Therefore, he must have parked his truck and gone somewhere else, and wherever he was going, something had happened to him either on his way there or at his destination. Something bad. Why else would he not check in with the agency?

Mac pulled out his cell phone and dialled the Director's number, wanting to bring her up to speed with his thoughts on his missing partner.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Ok," began the Director. "Here's what we know so far... two months ago an elderly man, out walking his dog discovered the nude, murdered body of a still as yet unidentified male under some shrubbery in Ballard Park. Joe Doe's stats read as follows: Caucasian, approximate age 34, 6' 1", 190 lbs, brown eyes, brown hair. Joe Doe's corpse was still relatively fresh when he was found, decomposition hadn't even begun to set in. The autopsy results revealed that he had only been dead around 24 hours."

The Director was reading impassively from the police and coroner's report she had received. Shed casually looked at the crime scene photos, but there was nothing in them she hadn't seen before. Definitely not the worst stuff she had come across. She slid the photos across the table top to LiAnn.

Who looked at them just as impassively as her boss had, though not for the same reasons. At the moment LiAnn's mind was a million miles away. She was too busy thinking about Victor and the man on the machine. Not liking any of the conclusions she was drawing; pangs of jealousy licked her insides, turning her stomach into a tangle of dragonflies. She thumbed through the photos quickly without really seeing, then set them aside as she waited for more information.

The Director continued, "He had track marks on the inside of just one arm, and his body was covered in bruises. Some of them the M.E. estimated to be," she flipped up the page, "...about 3 to 4 days old, mixed in with some that were fairly recent. They also determined that he had been sexually assaulted in a manner described on paper only as 'extremely deviant.' Apparently the tissues in his rectal area were a mess. Death was due to strangulation,"

The Director looked up from her papers and pulled off her glasses; she looked LiAnn in the eye directly and stated flatly "The poor man was drugged, raped and methodically beaten over an extended period of time. We don't know Joe Doe's name yet, but we do know that he lived in Ballard Park. Some person or persons abducted him from the park, kept him alive for about 4 days, then murdered him and dumped the poor bastard back where he'd come from."

She paused, waiting for LiAnn to react to her statement. After a beat she realized that LiAnn wasn't looking at her, but was looking through her. Reaching forward, she snapped her fingers twice under the young woman's nose. "Hello, earth to LiAnn! Are you home?"

LiAnn blinked her eyes clear then shrugged off her temporary trance. She had heard everything the Director had said to her; it was just taking a few minutes to digest it all. Sitting up straight, she became all business. The Director asked casually "Are you all right? What's going on?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. I was just worrying about Vic. Wondering where he is." Well part of that was true at least, she just hadn't mentioned that she had also been thinking about Victor and another man.

She truly was concerned as to his whereabouts.

Well don't be, Mac will phone if anything's up." Showing no real concern over Victor just yet, the Director turned her attention back to the case.

LiAnn asked "How come we have this case? Why aren't O.P.P or the RCMP taking care of this?

I am glad you asked that." The Director was too, it showed that her favourite agent had been listening after all. "Joe Doe's vitals were run through the computer in an attempt to I.D. him. It's not too often a grown man is the victim of a sex crime. Any how, when his Vi-stats were entered, the computer kicked up all sorts of red flags. Seems that starting around 6 years ago two more victims matching Joe Doe's description were found in Central Park, four months apart."

The Director went back to her desk to look at the report, refreshing her memory. "The killings were virtually identical, right down to dumping the victims back to where they had been snatched from. N.Y.P.D thought that they might have the makings of a serial killer, so they passed the case on to the F.B.I. and in particular to a young profiler by the name of Fox Mulder. He wrote the profile up, but then the killings never expanded beyond the two known."

The Director drank down what was left of her cold water and continued on with her briefing. "Now it looks like the killer kept on murdering, he just changed his location. There were, subsequently seven more murders after the New York pair. One in Las Vegas, two in L.A., one in Seattle, one in Vancouver, one in Regina and one-the last body found- in Toronto."

"Local cops have too much on their plate right now, and quite frankly this is too big for them, so we're stepping in to help out. Of course local law enforcement will get the credit when we catch this guy, which is why I had Mr. Mulder down from D.C. over the weekend," added the Director innocently. She pulled more photos out of another envelope; they were head and neck pictures of the other eight victims, all of them taken in the morgue.

LiAnn picked up the photos and looked through them, studying these photographs more closely then the other ones of the John Doe from the park. She reached the last picture and went through the stack again, then the gravity of the situation hit her, all these men were really dead, so why was she still thinking of Victor? Recognition dawned on her; she was thinking of Victor because all the dead men reminded her of him. Alarmed LiAnn looked up at the Director, who was reading another document.

"What ?" asked the Director expectantly.

LiAnn was amazed that the Director hadn't already caught it yet. "Do you realize," she began, her voice a little shaky, "...that all of these dead men look like Victor?"

LiAnn didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but the facts were there. "They have similar looks, builds and are all close to his age." Along with alarm, LiAnn now felt queasy. "OH GOD! Victor only lives a block and a half from Ballard Park. What if this freak is staking out the park looking for his next victim. SHIT!" LiAnn raised her voice, she was positively scared now. "He goes to that park all the time. Day and night." She jumped up so fast you might have thought her chair had burst into flames.

The Director stared at LiAnn, wide-eyed with worry and began adding up the facts for herself. 1- Victor goes missing, 2- He lives near and frequents a park that where the last known victim lived and was dumped back into after his death, and 3- His resemblance to the other men right down to his age, weight and height were just too close for comfort. The Director walked to her phone intending to call Mac to see just what the hell was going on. Maybe he had already heard from Victor. However, before she reached her phone, it rang out; its noisy shrill startling both the Director and LiAnn.

An omen" whispered LiAnn.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

When Victor finally woke, he found that he was back in the small cell and chained to the wall, with his hands cuffed behind his back. He had been lying on his stomach, but with a bit of effort he managed to roll to his side and then into a sitting position. He kept his eyes on the door and wondered when Jack would be back for him. The after effects of the high grade heroin had left him with a mild headache. Luckily he had ended up sleeping most of the high off. But, even as stoned as he was, the memories of what Jack had made him do were not erased.

His cheeks reddened in at shame at the leftover images of what had been done to him. He was a grown man. Stuff like this didn't happen to men, especially to a man who was used to getting shot at for a living.

What will Mulder think? worried Vic.

Then he told himself practically that it didn't matter what Fox thought, this guy was going to kill him anyway. And for all he knew, no one had even noticed that he was missing yet.

Victor heard the bolt click, and he snapped his head up to watch as the door swung open.

Jack stood in the door way with a tray of food and water in his hands. His body illuminated from behind by an unseen light source. He carefully kicked the door shut behind him and placed the tray down on the floor.

Victor made no move to get up. Not that he could get far, chained to the wall as he was.

"You hungry, Victor?" Jack's voice was soft - almost caring.

Victor shook his head, no, but the truth was, he was hungry. Ravenous in fact.

Jack ignored his captives gesture and squatted down next to the tray, he lifted a white cloth napkin off of a small plate and held it up to Victor so he could see what was on it. The plate held a ham and Swiss cheese sandwich with bright green leaf lettuce.

His mouth began to water and in an act of betrayal, his stomach grumbled loudly in response to the sight and smell of food.

"I'll ask you one more time, are you hungry?"

Victor wanted to refuse the food and the water, but he couldn't afford to get weak. He needed to keep his strength up if he was going to have any hope at all of escaping. If a window of opportunity opened up, he wanted to be able to take it. Victor turned his head sideways, his face a perfect mask of vulnerability; he looked at Jack and whispered "Yes".

"Try anything, and I'll kill you where you sit," warned Jack. He put the tray down and picked up the uncut sandwich and the water bottle.

Victor straightened up awkwardly with his back to the wall. His free leg bent at the knee and tucked in close to him, while his chained leg lay partially extended over the bed. Jack climbed onto the cot and sat so close to Victor he was almost on top of him. Reluctantly, Victor opened his mouth and allowed his captor to hand feed him the sandwich. His bites were followed by large sips of water, both of which he needed badly.

Once Victor had finished the sandwich, Jack asked, "Do you need to pee?"

Unwilling to speak to Jack, Victor simply nodded his head yes'. He appeared to be passive on the outside; waiting to see what Jack would do. This could be his chance to escape, if Jack uncuffed him to go to the bathroom. No such luck, Jack wrapped his hand around Victor's throat and squeezed, cutting off the agent's air temporarily. With the other hand he reached under the foot of the bed and pulled out the bucket. Jack angled himself around Victor and pushed the gasping man towards the end of the bed.

Oh no," Victor said a raspy voice, "Uncuff me so I can go on my own".

Jack perched on his knees behind his captive, wrapped his arms around Victor and pulled him close so that his chest rested against the other's back. With his hand still around Victor's throat, Jack spoke directly into Victor's ear, "If you need to go, I'll help you. Otherwise piss your pants." Jack's free hand invaded the planes of Victors chest and when he felt the bite mark that he had made earlier, he pushed down cruelly on the tender spot, making Victor inhale sharply from the pain. Victor had no wish to be held by another while he urinated, but the alternative - soiling his jeans - was even less appealing.

Picking the lesser of the two evils, Victor nodded his assent "Fine. Unzip me then, I gotta go."

Jack grinned at the back of Victor's head. "Good boy." He undid the jeans and delicately grasped Victor's penis, aiming it accurately at the bucket.

Flushed with humiliation, Victor was having a hard time getting started; the hand that held him was distracting, but eventually the need to go won out, and he released his bladder. After he had finished urinating, Jack still held onto Victor.

Let go of my dick, you twisted fuck, and do me up," hissed Victor, through clenched teeth.

Jack made no reply to Victor's demand. Instead he wrapped his fist around the formidable member in his hand and began very slowly, ever so gently, to stroke it to life. Victor was absolutely mortified with himself. How could he get hard at the hands of this pervert? In anger and frustration, he struck out by snapping his head back and smashing it into Jack's nose.

Jack, in extreme pain, grabbed at his nose and tried to stop the blood from gushing out of his nostrils. Perhaps it hadnt been the wisest move on his part, but at least now Victor could die knowing that he had tried to protect himself.

In a full blown rage, Jack pulled his hands away from his nose and punched the still handcuffed Victor hard in the side of head, a primal scream tearing from his throat as he did so, ignoring the blood dripping from his nose.

Stunned by the punch, Victor lay in a crumpled heap trying clear the stars out of his vision.

Dripping blood and sweat, Jack stood and went over to the tray. He picked up another napkin that had concealed the rest of the contents of the tray. The heroin works.

Victor saw the paraphernalia. His eyes widened in panic and he began to shake his head mumbling "No, no" over and over again.

Flipping the struggling man over, Jack pinned him down with one heavy knee to the back. He quickly tied the rubber tubing around Victor's tense right arm and then repeated the same procedure on his captive as he had done earlier in the day. Within a few seconds the drug started to take effect and Victor's body gradually went slack, all the fight draining out of him.

Jack wound his fingers through Victor's short hair and reefed his head back, "You want blood?" he seethed, spittle spraying from his mouth and hitting Victor on the side of his face. Jack wiped his bruised nose, still dripping little droplets of blood, on his sleeve. "I'll show you blood, pretty boy" He roughly shoved Victor's face into the mattress, demonstrating his anger.

Gripping the back of Victor's head with one hand, Jack used his other in one swift motion to unbuckle and pull his sleek leather belt through blue jean loops. He pulled his knee away from Victor's back and stood up. Folding the belt in half, Jack began to beat the handcuffed man with it. When the leather connected with Victor's soft, pale flesh it made a loud smacking noise. Jack swung his practiced arm with all his might, putting the force of his large biceps and shoulder behind the blows. A red welt appeared on the skin wherever the belt struck.

Victor tried to shield himself, but without the use of his hands it was virtually impossible.

Jack's anger at being given a bloodied nose escalated to beyond furious; he was working himself into a frenzy. Not aiming at any particular part of Victor, Jack whipped the belt randomly-from the backs of Victor's well muscled arms, down his smooth back to his head and face. Not caring where the supple black leather landed.

More spittle sprayed out of his mouth when he bellowed, "DON'T. YOU. EVER. HIT. ME. AGAIN!" The perspiration dripping from his forehead peppered Victor's body like rain drops. At some point during the beating, Jack had changed his grip and was now battering Victor with the buckle end of the belt, inflicting even worse damage.

Victor rolled over to his left side, trying to escape the punishing whipping. He felt the sting of the buckle as it struck his right cheek, making his eyes water, and he knew immediately that the skin there had been opened up. Warm blood flowed from the cut down his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. The coppery taste of the liquid spurred him into action and his instincts took over. He rolled to the foot of the bed in order to be able to bring his knees up to meet his head, trying to protect himself as best as he could by trying to covering as much of his head as possible, like a turtle retreating into its shell.

And now all Victor could do for himself was to endure the pain of the beating and wait for the crazed man to tire. Mercifully, the fresh dose of drugs in his system had dulled some of the pain. Eventually, Jack's pace slowed, then stopped. Despite his pain addled condition, Victor realized an opportunity had come his way, and he took it. Effecting a completely convincing I'm helpless face, he swallowed down the searing pain and rolled onto his back so he could look directly into Jack's pale blue eyes. Victor was aware that the blood and bruises made him look even more defenceless. "Please..." He pleaded, his voice hoarse. "Un-cuff me. I won't try anything."

Then in an even softer, breathier tone, "I promise." Victor blinked his large green eyes up at Jack, knowing his wet lashes made his eyes appear even larger. He was trying to appeal to Jack on any level he could, sexual or otherwise - whatever did the trick.

Jack stared down unblinkingly at Victor. He felt no real pity or sympathy towards his prisoner, but looking down now into that very handsome face, he felt something. He wasn't exactly positive what, but it was something that was for sure. Jack knew that if he railed too hard on Victor, he would end up killing the man sooner than he intended to. And even though he was furious that his captive had hurt him, he had, after all, wanted a fighter this time. Someone who would be more of a challenge than the last man. That guy had ended up being no fun at all by dying so easily.

No. I won't take the cuffs off. But I'll allow you to have your hands in front of yourself." Jack was no fool.

Please, do it." Having his hands cuffed in the front at least gave Victor a fighting chance. "I'm so tired, I just want to sleep." To prove it, Vic closed his lids and feigned a yawn. He rolled over to give Jack better access to the metal bracelets. Doing a perfect imitation of a rag doll, Vic allowed himself to be cuffed in the front.

Jack sat down on the bed and adjusted the cuffs. Then he reached out with a large hand and brushed back the short dark brown hair on Victor's forehead and said quietly, "I don't like it when you make me do things like that. Behave and it won't happen again."

This kindness after an act of cruelty was just another component of his carefully orchestrated game. Jack, by performing acts both cruel and kind in nature, would eventually break down his prisoner. He put the onus on the captive by letting him think that it was his fault that he had been hurt when in reality Jack would have found any excuse to punish Victor. He leaned in and kissed Victor very softly on his puffy, bruised lips. Then he stood and walked to the door, gathering up everything that he had brought into the room and putting the items back on the tray.

As Jack moved around the room cleaning up after himself; he sang softly, "No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, the sad man........behind blue eyes."

Victor would never have guessed that Jack was the type to sing casually. The bastard's happy with him self!

And inside, Victor was just as happy for himself because during the beating, when he had been turtling around near the foot of the bed, his earring had caught on some loose threads on the mattress. He had to tug lightly in order to release his caught ear. It was then that the proverbial light bulb lit up over his head.

Jack had carefully removed all the things that might enable him to escape from not only Victor's person but from the room. Except the earring that he wore, Jack seemed to have overlooked that. The silver was soft and Victor would be able to straighten out the hoop and use it to pick the handcuff lock. Victor had thought that by asking for freedom from the cuffs entirely, he would most likely win a compromise and end up with his hands in front - a circumstance he could very easily deal with.

But first he had to sleep. The adrenaline rush of the beating along with the drugs had left him exhausted. He allowed himself to fall asleep, telling himself to wake as soon as possible. All he needed was a couple hours of rest

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Director picked up the ringing phone. "Yes?"

"It's me." Mac said, monotone. "Vic's not here, but his truck is, and it's in the right parking spot. I think I'll walk through the neighbourhood, see if anybody's seen him around. His place is a mess and that's not like him. Something's wrong, I can feel it," added Mac ominously.

"Forget that for now, come back in. LiAnn and I have some new information. We'll take a look at what weve got, then go from there." The Director didn't want to say too much over the phone. She, better than anyone, knew that the walls had eyes and ears, and she didn't want to get a full scale investigation going, only to have Victor show up later, though like LiAnn and Mac she did have a bad feeling about Vic's disappearance. The Director hung up on Mac without saying goodbye, giving him no chance to argue with her orders.

LiAnn had remained, listening to the one way conversation, correct in guessing that the person on the other end was Mac.

The Director turned to her female agent, a serious set to her mouth. "Go down to records and pull the last 10 cases Victor worked on. Look for anyone who made a threat against him or has a grudge..."

"Yeah, right. Everyone threatens him at some point..." The Director's hard stare stopped LiAnn mid-sentence.

She continued on as if she had not been interrupted. "See who's out of jail and looking to even up the score. Check out everyone, let's eliminate the obvious. I don't want to blow this up if we don't have to. Grab Dobrinski on your way out and get him to help you. I'll send Mac down when he shows up." She waved her hand, dismissing LiAnn.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Director waited until LiAnn had shut the door behind her before she picked up the phone. Keying through the numbers stored in her computer, she made a few phone calls, then dialled one final number, checking the time on her watch to make sure that he would still be at work.

Only 4:00-he'd still be there.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation." stated a slightly nasal female voice.

"Fox Mulder's desk please," asked the Director pleasantly. If she was wrong, and nothing had happened to Victor; then Skinner would be furious with her for calling the F.B.I. agent back into town, but if things turned out the way her gut feeling told her they might, Mulder's years as an experienced profiler would be invaluable in finding and retrieving Victor alive and in one piece. Mulder's years as an investigative field agent would be asset in having him help with the search, but what made him the most valuable to the investigation was his physical and emotional attachment to Victor. Fox Mulder would go to the ends of the earth to find Victor Mansfield, of that she was sure. He would search for and check out every clue he and the team could turn up, and he would not stop looking for Victor until he found out what had happened to him. Fox Mulder reacted the same way with everyone he cared about - whether it was his sister, his partner or his missing lover.

Mulder's obsessive personality was the Director's ace in the hole.

"Mulder," came the terse greeting into the phone. The Director didn't care, anything was better than the Muzak she had been listening to.

"Fox Mulder?" She queried, making sure that she indeed was speaking to the right person.

"Yeah, you got him. What can I do for you?" He was distracted. He had been trying to concentrate on the file before him, but all he had managed to do was think about Victor and their weekend of fun and wonder why Victor hadn't called him back yet.

"You don't know me but" That was always an inauspicious beginning, "...but I work for the same shadowy government agency Victor Mansfield does." There, that ought to grab his attention.

"I have no idea what you're talking about ma'am," lied Mulder smoothly.

"Yes..." she hesitated a beat, "... you do. I'm Victor's boss. I believe he told you I was the 'Dragon Lady', or he might have referred to me as the 'meanest woman in the world'." The Director smiled at the words Victor might have used. All of them an accurate description, of course.

"Ooh, yeah, the bitch with the rubber fetish. He mentioned you. Look if this is about the profile..."

No, it's about Victor actually."

There was a pause. Then a slightly worried, "What about him?"

The Director could hear the uncertainty creep into Mulder's voice. She let the silence hang for a second before continuing, "Well it seems he's missing. No one has seen or heard from him since our delayed meeting on Monday night." She put emphasis on the word 'delayed' to keep him guessing. Even in a time of crisis the Director couldn't resist mind games. "I've put in an official request of course, this call is merely a formality, but I think you should come back up here A.S.A.P."

"When? Exactly when did he go missing?" asked Mulder.

The Director smiled into a mirror and fixed her hair, studying her roots and purposely not answering the question. Mulder would be on the next plane to Toronto; no worries about trying to convince him to come back. "Our agency's jet should be landing at Dulles airport in about 2 hours to pick you up. We'll save the American taxpayers some money this time around. Your boss should be reading the request for your services as we speak."

Mulder was impatient to get off the line. This bimbo wasn't going to tell him anything over the phone anyway. He should have known that if Victor could have called he would have. He was a man of his word, and the quicker Mulder remembered that, the better. "Ok, have all pertinent information faxed to me, I'll read it on the plane," he said.

"The file is already on board. I should warn you though, we think Victor's disappearance might be linked to the profile you two worked on together this weekend." She heard a sharp intake of breath. "I'll let you read the rest on the plane. You can draw your own conclusions about the case. Bring everything you've got on file. I'll have someone meet you at the airport when you land." Then she added, "Oh and Mulder? I look forward to seeing you again." She cut the connection.

Mulder sat there holding the phone in his hand, lost in thought. He was more than just concerned about Victor, but what had that woman meant by "I look forward to seeing you again" He had never met her. Mulder hung up the handset, only to pick it up again when it rang immediately after.

It was Kim, the A.D.'s secretary; "requesting that Agent Mulder come to his office." Mulder stood and left his desk to head for Skinner's office.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac, arriving at the agency while the Director was on the phone, was told to see LiAnn and Dobrinski in the records room, to help them check Vic's recent cases. When he arrived the only other person in the place was LiAnn, Dobrinski had gone to check on some suspects who appeared to have fled overseas.

"Sit down and pull up a file." LiAnn said rather grimly. Her eyes were sore from the fluorescent lighting glaring off of the bright white pages.

"What's going on? Why did the Director call me back in? Did she tell you that Vic's truck was at the apartment?" Mac could have gone on with more information but LiAnn interrupted him, holding up her hand to stop him.

"We're checking into past cases of Victor's. That's what's going on. The Director called you back in to show you this." LiAnn handed over the file containing all the information of the murders. "Look at the photos first, then read the reports." advised LiAnn.

Mac flipped through the pictures slowly, absorbing the carnage depicted in some of the photos. When he had finished looking at the stack, he flipped through them again, this time more quickly. Looking over at LiAnn, overwhelmed, he asked, "Am I seeing what I think I am seeing?"

LiAnn, sounding very much like Dobrinski, asked in return, "I don't know. What do you think you're seeing?"

"I think..." Mac hesitated, "... that I'm looking at pictures of 9 murdered men who look a whole lot like Vic." Mac felt sick to his stomach. The resemblance between all the men was eerie. He picked up the report and began to read, not looking up again until he was done.

Finally, he stood up and got a drink from the vending machine, then sat back down to re-read the report. His stomach was doing flip-flops by the time he had finished the papers. Mac connected the dots between the 9th victim in the park and Vic's disappearance. He too knew that his partner liked the park. Hopefully it just a coincidence, but he had a sinking feeling that it was not.

An hour and a half after Mac had arrived, the Director showed her face, and what a grim looking face it was. Both Mac and LiAnn had been startled by her entrance. In the Director's absence they had managed to clear up all the question marks relating to Victor and past cases. Dobrinski still had not come back from his end of things.

As it turned out theyd had some time to discuss what else was on their minds, namely Victor and the phone call. LiAnn confessed to being confused by who it could be and what the call meant. She told Mac that she thought that maybe Victor was seeing another person, namely a man. But who that man could be stumped her, and why he would choose a man when he was heterosexual was beyond her.

Mac on the other hand was not as shocked at Victor choosing a man as LiAnn. He and Victor had been flirting on a subconscious level for almost a year. Both men knew what was going on, but neither of them had ever acknowledged the flirtatious overtures. Mac brought none of this up to LiAnn, but instead he ventured, "Why not choose a guy? After the way you trashed him..."

LiAnn answered that comment by slapping Mac across the face, claiming that she had not trashed him. "But," she admitted after a pause, "I did hurt him and badly too." She paused again and then asked honestly "Do you really think I ruined him for other women?"

Mac laughed, surprised by the naivet of the other agent and replied, speaking slowly as though he were talking to a small child, "No, I think he always liked men but never admitted it to himself. He is probably bisexual, I would guess. He's never said anything to me about it. Only Victor can tell us what's really going on with him. Victor - or," Mac was rubbing the red hand print LiAnn's slap had left, "...that Mulder guy."

"Agent Mulder? How'd you put the two of them together?"

"Well, the Director did say that Victor was holed up in his apartment all weekend with Agent Mulder, working out the profile of the killer. And when I went there today," Mac leaned in close to LiAnn, lowering his voice considerably, "...the place was a wreck."

LiAnn flashed a confused look at Mac, as if to say 'Vic left a mess?'

Mac spoke on. "There were a couple of shot glasses and an empty tequila bottle. And I didn't see any extra bedding for sleeping on the couch." Mac raised his eyebrows and gave his most damning piece of evidence. "The bedroom reeked of sex. His bed was unmade. Nothing was cleaned up. I heard the message on the machine too you know."

It was at that point in the conversation that the Director had swept into the room kicking the door closed behind her. Both agents looked up and focused their attention on their boss. The Director looked back and forth between them and commented to Mac, "You look like the cat that swallowed the canary."

Mac shook his head. "No. Just trying to piece together what could have happened to Vic. All these," He swept his hand at the stack of former case files, "..checked out. We're still waiting to hear back from Dobrinski."

The Director rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Dobrinski is setting up the conference room. All his overseas stuff checked out too. Looks as though we might be dealing with the park murderer after all." She walked behind the agent's chairs. "I've sent for Agent Mulder from Washington. He will be assisting us in the search."

The Director ignored the narrowed eyes of LiAnn and the look of disbelief on Mac's face. "Agent Mulder will be officially in on this, so get over yourselves and think about Victor. Mulder's our best chance at finding him. He knows serial killers better than anybody. His plane will be landing in a half an hour. The two of you go get something to eat and be back here by..." the Director looked at her Rolex, "... 7:15. By then Dobrinski and I will have a whole lot more to tell you."

The dismissed agents rose and left without dispute. Arguing only worked to piss off the iron maiden.

The Director gathered up the file and photos, taking it back with her to the conference room, wondering if the fax she was waiting for had come through yet.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac and LiAnn sat at the large conference table, waiting impatiently for the Director to show up with Agent Mulder. The table seemed unbalanced to Mac; he was not used to seeing that third black leather chair empty. It didn't look right and it sure as hell didn't feel right. He exhaled heavily, frustrated that this briefing was taking so long in getting started.

Vic's missing for Christ sakes. Where's the agency's sense of urgency?

If it were up to him, he and LiAnn would have been kicking open every door to the storefronts facing the park by now, showing the proprietors of those shops Victor's picture; checking out where he had been and trying to trace his steps of where he had been going.

Another 15 minutes then I'm 'outta here; meeting or no meeting.

He looked over at LiAnn, who was busying herself by inspecting her impeccably manicured nails. She may have looked bored, but Mac knew that it was just a cover. LiAnn was really a ball of nervous knots at the thought of meeting Agent Mulder. Breathing deeply and concentrating on her fingernails was just her way of coping.

The butterflies in her stomach had left LiAnn feeling slightly nauseous. At dinner she had barely eaten a thing, opting to spread the food around the plate with her chopsticks instead. Not only was she unsure about meeting the F.B.I. agent, she was also very afraid for Victor's safety. And on top of all that, a little voice in the back of her mind kept questioning her as to why she had broken up with Victor -- the most kind and generous man she had known -- in the first place? And for what? Mac Ramsey? What a mistake that had been. The bottom had dropped out of their relationship the minute she split with Victor.

How could I have broken up with Vic? He was the best thing that ever happened to me.

LiAnn berated herself. She was conflicted in her feelings for both Mac and Victor. She had thought that she and Mac had some unfinished business to deal with, so breaking up with Victor was for the best, but in hindsight it had been a momentous mistake one that she would have to live with.

She had gone to Mac after breaking up with Victor, but he had shown no serious interest in discussing past events with her, so she had ended up putting their relationship behind her as well, seemingly he had already done so. Truth was LiAnn had enjoyed living alone again; she liked not being in a committed relationship. Or so she had thought til now. Now that Victor was missing LiAnn wasn't really sure of what she wanted.

It was while LiAnn sat there that she came to a decision; when they found Victor, alive, she was going to ask him to get back together with her. Yes, that's what she would do.

Agent Mulder be damned ! He was probably just a passing fancy anyway.

Ignoring LiAnn - who was in turn ignoring him - Mac checked his watch, it read, 8:25. He jumped up abruptly and started pacing.

Having been pulled from her thoughts, LiAnn looked up and calmly asked the agitated man, "What?"

"If no one walks through that door in the next 5 minutes, I'm outta here."

As far as Mac was concerned he had been sitting there long enough waiting for the Director and Dobrinski to show up. He was tired of hanging around and waiting for Agent Mulder to come charging in on his white horse to save the day. It was just too much shit for him to put up with. Mac felt as though his detective skills were being challenged. The Director acted as if without Agent Mulder there would be no hope of finding Victor at all. Mac thought that it was total bullshit; he was just as good at his job as Mulder. Mac did not appreciate another rooster invading his hen house.

At times, it may have looked to others in the agency as if Mac was nothing but a big cut-up, and that he was always goofing around; most of the time it was true. But at a time like this, when one of his partners was in danger, his full attention was focused on Victor and finding him. He was serious now, and to prove it, he was even willing to put up with working with this Mulder, partnering with him, providing that the new partner showed up in the next 3 minutes.

Enough shit, I'm gone.

Mac grabbed his suit jacket and started to pull it on as he walked towards the big glass doors, but before he could reach them, the Director, who had entered through another door said to his back,

"Hold your horses. We're ready to start." She smiled inwardly at Mac's impatience to begin; he was more worried about Victor than he liked to let on. The Director began laying out 3 identical folders on the long table. As she did this, Dobrinski pushed the main doors open and bustled through with his hands full of papers. Following close behind him was another man.

Agent Mulder I presume, thought Mac.

Mac sat down and watching the slightly rumpled man make his way to the table.

Dobrinski obviously had already met the man so he introduced him to everyone else in the room.

Mulder asked the Director if he were to call her that, to which she smiled and replied "yes".

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Part 3

When Mulder greeted LiAnn, she uncharacteristically ignored his outstretched palm and gave him a hard stare in return. He pulled his hand away and directed it towards Mac, commenting with a small lopsided smile as he did so, "I heard a lot about you. Vic spoke highly of your...er... skills."

Mac pumped the other man's hand twice, secretly pleased that Victor had mentioned him. As long as he didn't talk to much they would get along O.K. How Mulder and LiAnn would fare together was another story. Mac hoped that she was assigned some other duty in this investigation. He had not failed to notice the look LiAnn had given Mulder. Ignoring his hand seemed to seal his fate in her eyes. Shed been determined to dislike Agent Mulder before she even met him.

LiAnn picked up Mulder's casual use of Victor's name. Hate 'em already

She did not speak one single word during the introductions. Preferring to stick to the old adage of "If you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all."

Dobrinski instructed Mulder to take the empty chair then turned around to tack up some photos to the surface of a large roll-away cork board. First he put up a photo of a small pizza shop, then a black and white head shot of a man, that was of a very grainy quality. Lastly, he pinned up another photo of the same unknown man that had been taken quite a few years earlier. In it he was wearing a formal Marine uniform. Under the photos Dobrinski tacked up a large map of the area around Ballard Park. Having done that, he walked over to the table and handed a copy of the black and white photo to each agent. They all took the photo and studied it, waiting for the Dobrinski to begin.

The Director sat behind her desk working at her computer. She already knew what Dobrinski was going to say so instead of listening, she was using the time to pull up old records to see if she could find anything else that might help the three reluctant partners'.

Dobrinski picked up a long pointer stick and without preamble began. "The photo you are looking at is of a man named Jackson James Douglas. We'll call him 'Jack' for brevity's sake. He is an American citizen, male, Caucasian, age 45, born Aug 17, 1954 in Vancouver, Washington state. He's 6'4" tall, has blonde hair and blue eyes" Dobrinski made eye contact with each seated agent and as he looked at Mulder he said, "The last time he was weighed he came in at 210 lbs. Judging by the most recent photo," Dobrinski slapped the grainy black and white photo with his pointer,"...an accurate measurement still."

Mulder grimaced as he studied the black and white picture.

He's a whole lot bigger than Victor The thought angered Mulder. If this freak dared to hurt even a hair on his...

He reluctantly dragged his attention away from his private thoughts to concentrate on what Dobrinski was saying.

"He was the only child to James and Fern Douglas-both deceased. Jack's parents were murdered on his 10th birthday by a unknown male who broke in during the family party. Jack's parents had been killed first then the assailant set his sights on him. He raped and beat Jack, and when he was finished with him he stabbed the poor kid. Lucky for Jack the assailant never had a chance to finish the job. It appears that he was interrupted by a neighbour who had happened to be returning some borrowed tools when he heard the screaming. The neighbour saw the blood and went to call the cops, allowing the intruder to escape. No one was ever arrested, but interestingly enough." Dobrinski flipped through his files and pulled out a picture, which he tacked on to the board next to the others. It was a hand drawn sketch that could have been Victor, if the 3 at the table hadn't already known better. "Here is a composite sketch of the suspect. Of course we know it's not Mansfield because he would have been only one year old at the time of the crime."

The composite drawing of young Jack's assailant had at first startled both Mac and LiAnn, then helped them with answering the question as to why Jack was targeting a particular type of man. Puzzle solved. Mulder had been privy to all of this information while flying back to Toronto, so he of course already knew beforehand why Jack was focusing was his attention on men who all were similar to each other. Jack was a whole lot sicker than any of them had realized.

"Young Douglas, after his parent's funerals, was sent to Long Island to live with his grandparents. There's no info on the subject for the rest of his childhood and youth. However, we do know from," Dobrinski went back to his pages for a quick consult, "... a report that was made to Jack's family physician by a school nurse that there might have been the possibility of physical and perhaps even sexual abuse in the house. That report was unsubstantiated though. Agent Mulder thinks it's most likely true."

The other two agents swung their heads to look at Mulder. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I'm a psychologist" as if that explained it all.

The trio looked back to Dobrinski who picked up his thread of facts and continued on. "Jackson Douglas surfaces again in 1970 when he joined the Marines," Dobrinski pointed to the coloured photo of Jack, "...with the permission of his grandparents. He served for 2 years then left. Records showed that he was honourably discharged. Jack's role in the military was a simple one. He was an expert marksman. Translation - sniper. And when he wasn't out shooting the enemy from 200 yards he captured and interrogated Vietcong soldiers." Dobrinski opened up a bottle of water that had been sitting on the Director's desk, taking a long pull on the cool contents. No one spoke; each agent was lost in their own thoughts.

Thirst sated, Dobrinski went on. "He virtually dropped out of sight after his discharge. So where he's been or what he's been up to between 1973 and now is a mystery. We can however, safely assume that he is the perp we're looking for in connection with Victor's disappearance, and the other 9 deaths. This surveillance photo of him was pulled off a security camera hidden under the rafters at this pizza place." Dobrinski pointed to the photo of the shop.

"It's located across the street from Ballard Park and one block down from Mansfield's apartment. This image was recorded about 15 minutes before Mansfield left the restaurant and crossed the street to the park. The restaurant owner, a man named Samuel Chan, says that Victor comes in about 3 times a week. In fact, he'd even mistaken the dead man from the park for Mansfield once."

Mac asked, "Come up with a name on the dead look-a-like yet?" Dobrinski shook his head, no. He didn't bother to tell them that they weren't even trying to I.D. the poor guy. That was a job the agency left up to the police.

"Mr. Chan was working the night Victor disappeared; he said it was really busy in the place and that Victor had come in and made his usual order. He told Mansfield that it would be about a 20 minute wait so Victor said he would come back. Mr. Chan saw him cross the street towards the park but, after that he couldn't say. But Mr. Chan could confirm that hed seen our suspect hanging around for more than two weeks; he specifically recalled seeing Jack earlier on in the evening of the night in question. Videotape confirms it."

Dobrinski clapped his hands together once and concluded, "So folks here it is in a nut shell; Victor comes home late on Monday night and instead of going up to his place, he, on an impulse, goes to the pizza joint for a bit of take-out. Then decides to stroll around the park while waiting for his order. And while there, this Jack guy somehow subdues Victor and carries him off to an unknown hideaway to do to Victor whatever it is freaks like him do." Dobrinski nodded to Mulder, who stood up and walked over to the display Dobrinski had laid out.

LiAnn asked sensibly, "Can we confirm he was even in the park? What if he was snatched up by Jack from a waiting vehicle?"

"Victor's wallet was found by another agent this afternoon. It was hidden in some tall grass near a bench. All the credit cards and cash were accounted for," answered Dobrinski.

"Was it found by the same agent who came up with the surveillance photos?" snapped LiAnn rather haughtily.

Mulder was looking hard at LiAnn and wondering why she was acting so bitchy. To Mulder she seemed like a spoiled child who was mad because she could not get her own way. Scully would never behave in such a manner. Mulder was having a hard time wondering exactly what it was that Victor had ever seen in her. What did it matter who found what, as long as the trail led back to Victor? He hoped that when it was time to go, LiAnn would stay behind.

She's acting like this is a pissing contest. Silly cow.

LiAnn ignored the disproving looks that both Mac and Mulder were giving her. Dobrinski nodded his head and said, "Yes. But I don't think a vehicle is involved in this kidnapping. It takes too much time and effort to have that kind of vehicle. Besides it would leave too much of a paper trail."

Mulder cleared his throat as Dobrinski had settled himself on the corner of the table. He began, "I used to work as a forensic psychologist in the FBI'S Profiling Department. I'm trained to deal with serial killers along with your usual, run of the mill, bad guys. In fact the weirder they are; the better. It is easier to profile a person with a whole lot of kinks. But in this case, seeing that there aren't a lot of facts, the profile on this guy is pretty slim. We missed a lot of important information the first time around. Ironically this is the file that Vic..um..Agent Mansfield," Mulder recovered quickly "...and I were working on last weekend." LiAnn's steely stare did not go unnoticed by Mulder, but he chose to ignore her and focused on what he had to say.

"I'll start off by saying that Jack is your typical anti-social loner; we know that by his solitary job in the marines and his lack of any real history on paper. I would also venture to say that although he is gay, Jack has never had a real relationship with a man or a woman. He's not interested in having a normal relationship; it's not what he wants. Jack can't or won't form lasting bonds with any one person.

Childhood abuse at some point during his life, is unfortunately, a given in a case like this. And the answer to why he kidnaps, rapes and kills his victims is easy; he is subconsciously doing the very same thing that was done to him. Jack has become fixated on a certain look and age of his victims. All of them representing his own victimizer. He is in fact killing the man who took his parent's lives and caused him to be sent to a house where he was further traumatized. Killing the man who killed his childhood and all the dreams that went with it. I could delve deeper, but I think to go on further would only bore you and waste valuable time that could be spent searching for Agent Mansfield." Mulder concluded his talk with a few more facts for the other two agents. Both were paying very close attention to what he was saying.

The Director, who had been silent the whole time, stood up from her chair and walked over to the map that was pinned to the board. She grabbed the pointer from Dobrinski and outlined some areas on the map, splitting the group into two teams: LiAnn and Dobrinski where given the north side of the park and all the warehouses that went with it. Mac and Mulder, whom she wisely determined would do better without LiAnn, were given the south side to check out.

There were a few old houses still standing amongst some warehouses and two storage facilities. If Dobrinski was correct in assuming that no vehicle had been used, then the area directly around the park would be the most likely place to start searching. She gave them their orders and then dismissed them. The four of them left immediately to begin their jobs.

The Director went back to her computer and brought up the photo that she had been looking at. It was a picture of Walter Skinner wearing a tank top and black bicycle shorts.

Well, well, well Walter Skinner, I hope you're straight 'cause YOU and I have to meet.

The Director smiled suggestively at the screen.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor rolled to his left side and tucked his cuffed wrists up under that side of his chin, stretching out his long fingers up the unseen, left side of his face so that he could get a hold of his earring. Though he was awake he kept up the pretence of slumber. Re-adjusting himself onto his side allowed him to keep up the charade in case he had an audience.

Jack could be watching him right now for all he knew.

Surreptitiously, he began to work on the silver hoop, pulling it slowly out of his lobe when he had it undone. No movement showed on his body, only his broad back rising and falling in regular intervals. To anyone who might be looking, Victor would still appear asleep. He used his thumb and forefinger to straighten out the thicker part of the main body of the circle. And after he had that done, Victor opened his concealed left eye and began to pick the lock to the metal bracelets while keeping his right eye closed.

He was glad now, that when he was training for the agency, they had shown him several methods for picking all sorts of locks and bolts. After being shown each way, he was drilled and timed in order to perfect the act of escape. Fortuitous was the fact that these cuffs most likely came from a sex shop featuring bondage gear. Those types of handcuffs were easy to escape, however even if they had they been real police issue, Victor would still have been able to escape from them; it would've just taken him longer. It only took about half a minute before he heard the soft "click" of the small lock opening. He smiled inwardly as he very slowly, very carefully eased the metal away from around his left hand then did the same to the right.

Victor put the handcuffs together so that they formed a single circle. Then he slipped them over his left hand and held them tight in his clenched fist as if they were a set of brass knuckles. He held the straightened piece of silver between thumb and finger on his right hand. He knew that if Jack was watching him; he would only have a few seconds before Jack was in the door trying to stop him. Victor would have to defend himself with one leg chained if he failed to undo the last remaining restraint.

Well it's a start Victor shut his eye and mentally ran through opening up the leg cuff. He visualized the lock by picturing the size of the opening and where exactly it would be located. When he felt confident that he could successfully attack the lock, he sat up. His tools were ready and he began to work as swiftly as possible, acutely aware of the imaginary clock in his mind, ticking down the seconds.

When the door to his bar-less jail cell did not immediately fly open, he was relieved and taking a deep breath, Victor concentrated on trying to pick the lock that imprisoned his leg. The strong bond was proving to be slightly more difficult than the cheap manacles. But after another minute or so of trying, the lock gave way and Victor heard the simple tick' of its release; it was music to his ears.

FREE at LAST!

Now all Victor had to do was wait for Jack to come to him, and when he did, Jack would be the one regretting that he had dared to steal Victor away from his friends and family.

Victor's revenge would be sweet.

He tucked the leg cuff under his pant leg to make it look as if he was still restrained, then he lay back down and waited for his oppressors return. Jack was compulsive, Victor knew it was only a matter of time before he returned wanting to hurt him again. Only this time he wouldn't be such an easy target. While he lay there Victor plotted his next move.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The door knob rattled, and then the lock clicked open. The bead of sweat that had formed on the back of Victor's neck broke away and rolled slowly down his naked spine. In just a few short seconds, Victor knew that he would be fighting for his life, the element of surprise his only advantage in the situation. It seemed to take Jack forever to coming through the door; the seconds ticked away like minutes. And during that dead time, Victor lay perfectly still, not daring to move even an inch. He forced himself to keep his breathing even; resisting the impulse to take flight instead of fight.

Jack opened the door and entered the room. He smiled at the sight of Victor's back; admiring the handiwork that he had left behind. The once pristine canvass of his captives broad back was now covered in bruises ranging in color from deep purple to almost black. The beating had caused his flesh to split wide open in places. A few of those welts had scabbed over but others were still weeping slightly. The rest of the weals, were raised and coloured a deep, angry red. Dried blood had stuck to all of the cuts, staining the flesh like macabre tear drops.

Jack could just make out the gash that the belt buckle had left behind on Victor's right cheek bone; the accompanying black eye spreading in size down his face. In Jack's sick and twisted vision, Victor was just beautiful and just as desirable as he was when he had first been taken.

On the tray that he was holding was the next dose of heroin, along with a few other goodies. Jack elbowed the door shut behind himself, but did not take the time to lock it.

He was already getting hard at the mere sight of the shackled man, and Jack rubbed at his crotch lewdly and licked his dry lips. The madman went over to the small bed and knelt behind Victor. He ran a callused hand over Victor's bare shoulder and down his arm, saying huskily, "Wake up Victor, I have a special treat in mind and its for my pleasure only."

Oh, I just bet you do . . . Jack

Victor's eyes popped open. The moment he had been waiting for had arrived. All Victor had needed was for Jack to get close enough to him so that he would be able to use the metal knuckles that he had wrapped around his left fist.

Suddenly, Victor whirled around leading with his left fist, sitting up as he did so while balancing on his right hand. Jack was taken completely by surprise as Victor's left fist connected with Jack's right eye. Victor felt the orbital bone crunch under his knuckles.

Jack roared with the pain of having his cheek bone broken. Furious, he clutched at his damaged eye as he leapt after Victor who was making a mad dash for the door.

Victor yanked open the door, but he could see nothing on the other side except dark nothingness. He was about to step out of the room and into the unknown when Jack grabbed him around his waist with two strong arms and pulled him down.

As Victor fell, he hit his forehead on the metal door knob, splitting a large cut on his forehead where the roots of his hair met skin. Stunned by the force of the blow, Victor somehow managed to work his way up to his hands and knees. With his head hanging forward, and unaware that he was even cut, Victor watched dazed, as his own blood which was running from the gash, formed a large pool on the cement floor.

Staring spellbound into the puddle of crimson, Victor fought to reclaim his senses.

Seething with rage, Jack planted his foot firmly at the small of Victor's already abused back and pushed, using his thick thigh muscle to force the man back down to his stomach.

Victor landed in an ungainly heap, his chin hit the hard cement floor, and his teeth bit, cutting his tongue.

It was at that point that Jack sank down and straddled Victor's waist. Grabbing him on either side of his hips, he flipped him over so that the agent was face up.

Jack had planned on having sex with Victor, torturing him for a bit and then killing him. But now he would have to forgo the sex and pain part of the plan and jump right ahead to the killing part instead. Still atop of Victor, Jack wrapped his hands around the trapped man's throat and began to choke the agent while simultaneously banging his head against the hard cement floor.

Victor clawed at Jack's hands, frantically trying to break the grip of death that held him down. Meanwhile, Jack continued to hit Victor's head again and again against the floor, and blood from the cut on his forehead ran into Victor's eyes, impairing his already hazy vision even further. Victor started seeing stars busting in front of his eyes and he had become light-headed.

Instinctively, Victor knew that if he didn't do something right now to break free of the hold Jack had on him, he would die, so in a last desperate attempt to save his own life, Victor stopped fighting with Jack's hands and flung out his right arm. The tips of his fingers touched the edge of the metal surgical tray and he immediately fought for purchase of it. When his fingers finally had a hold of it, he pulled the tray towards himself.

Dear God, he's going to kill me. Think Vic! THINK!

Victor gasped; all of his breath had left him now. His hand flew over the items on the tray and in a last ditch effort, he snatched up what he thought was perhaps a butter knife and plunged it, with all of his might, between Jack's ribs. Luckily for Victor, the butter knife was a surgical scalpel, and luckier still that the slim knife slipped easily between two ribs; slicing through the flesh as if it were warm butter.

The scalpel sank directly into Jack's beating heart, killing the man instantly.

Jack's grip released automatically as his hands flew to the razor-sharp scalpel sticking out from his rib cage. The look in his eyes was one of shock and disbelief as he pulled the small knife out. He looked at the killing tool in his hand and then back to Victor, who was still laying below him fighting for oxygen; too disoriented to do or say anything else. Jack blinked once then fell forward, landing directly on top of Victor, his fist still clenched around the operating room instrument.

Victor was barely aware that he had actually prevented Jack from killing him, and before he was able to fully comprehend that he was still alive, Jack's limp body had fallen forward, the dead man's head smashing directly onto Victor's. The dead weight on top of him was just too much for Victor to take. He was oxygen starved and concussed as well as being in a weakened state from loss of blood. The nasty cut across his forehead was still running freely. Unable to withstand the impact when Jack's head knocked his and in the instant after he had triumphed and killed his captor, Victor lost total consciousness.

His world suddenly went from seeing stars to complete blackness.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mulder and Mac drove in complete silence to their destination. Fox Mulder, Mac soon discovered, was not a great conversationalist.

No wonder he and Victor are into each other.

Mac had tried several times to converse with the FBI agent, but all he got in reply to his questions were monosyllabic answers or grunts. Finally Mac gave up trying. Victor and Mulder were a perfect set of bookends, in the young agents opinion.

Mulder had no patience for idle chitchat. He thought that Mac was an ok guy, though way more talkative than he preferred. He wasn't able to concentrate on what Mac was saying to him; he was so focused on Victor right now. More specifically, on what was happening to Victor.

Vic . . . WHAT MUST he be going through?!

Mulder had visions of Victor being raped and tortured running around his brain.

It's my fault

Mulder couldn't help feeling that if he had done a more thorough job on the profile the first time around, when he had originally had the case, this wouldn't have happened. He cleared his throat and said quietly to Mac who was now driving in a contemplative silence.

"Mac, you've known Victor a long time. How is he in crisis situations? How much stuf . . . " Mulder faltered slightly. He swallowed deeply and continued, his eyes remaining straight ahead as if he was talking to the road in front of them. "...stuff can he take?"

Mac glanced sideways at the Agent. He could see worry and self-doubt written all over the man's face; there were small lines of concern fanning out from the corner of the older man's left eye. Mulder was genuinely scared for Victor.

We'll find him, I know it

"Vic can look after himself. We've been trained to deal with hostage situations. How to escape them; stuff like that, you know?" Mac had wanted to reassure both Mulder and himself that Victor would be ok, but there was no real way of being sure.

He could be dead already. Stop it. You don't know that.

"Yeah," Mulder replied morosely, "But of those situations how many of them taught you how to deal with a psychopathic sexual predator?" Mulder answered his own question, "None I bet. You were no doubt trained to deal with terrorists and mobsters..."

Mac interrupted Mulder's speech of doom by saying, "This isn't helping, you know. You were called here to give an expert opinion to help locate MY Missing Partner. Now are you going to do that or are you going to plan his funeral before we even know what's happened to him?" Mac had emphasized My Missing Partner' and spoke more harshly than he had intended. He had been slightly jealous when Mulder showed up, but from what he had seen so far, the Director could have saved some money and left Mulder at home. Mac was not however, unsympathetic to the FBI agents feelings. If there had been any doubt before, there was none now; it was obvious that Victor and Mulder had been lovers and still were. Distance had not broken the emotional bond between them.

Well I care too, God dammit! Mac drove on, wondering if the Great One had anymore to add.

Mulder silently chided himself. Mac was right. Stewing about what might be happening to Victor was not going to help anyone. After all, Mac did know Victor better than he did, and if he said Victor could look after himself in such a situation then Mulder would just have to believe Mac.

Pull yourself together, Mulder.

Mulder put his thoughts in order and turned in the car seat to face Mac as the younger man drove. He picked up the file on Jack and began to leaf through it.

"Well, judging by what we know about Jack, I would say that we are heading in the right direction."

Curious, Mac answered with a simple, "Yeah, why?"

"Well when I left the Profiling Dept., some fellow employees who worked the in the department were just starting to discover ways to profile a serial killer by the location of the abduction and murder scenes as well as studying the sites where the victims were dumped, that is if they were dumped. They took in all the relevant and seemingly irrelevant surroundings and fed them into the computer. The method of profiling a serial killer by studying his environment is being improved upon every day. Jack, you see, needs an area big enough to seek out the specific type of man that he wants. That's why he uses the parks located in big cities. In good weather like this they are full of potential victims just ripe for the picking. He zeros in on his next target and watches him. Logically speaking the targeted man should live fairly close to whatever park he frequents, right? It doesn't make sense to travel out of your way. Unless of course you're going to a specific park for an activity that is unattainable in the ones close to home. Am I making sense?" Mulder asked of Mac.

"Yep, go on" Mac was intrigued with what Mulder was telling him. He had never put that much thought into catching the bad guy before. The Director would always just tell him where to go and he'd go, with guns blazing.

Ok, so Jack spots Victor in the park one day, a totally random sighting probably. Picks him out as a perfect match for the type of games he likes to play, but he's not alone or maybe he's in a crowd, whatever. No problem, he simply follows Victor around. Sees that he lives nearby, watches him closely and then bides his time until he can catch him alone and unaware. Ok, so he manages to snatch Victor somehow, not even realizing that the man he has taken is a resourceful government agent." Mulder's voice had some hope in it now. He won't be driving because it's too much of a hassle. He has to have Victor stashed somewhere near his hunting grounds right?" Mulder asked the question, not really seeking an answer, but in his peripheral vision he saw Mac nod in agreement.

The other man was listening in rapt silence. "But wherever it is it has to be," Mulder held up a finger for each one of his points made, "One: close enough to carry a 185 lb man; Two: secluded enough that no one, even if they're looking will find him; and Three: soundproof enough to muffle the screams of a man being tortured." The third shook both men deeply. "Is there any place like that in the neighbourhood where we're looking?"

Mac had been totally absorbed by what Mulder was telling him. He thought about the buildings and houses around the farthest edge of the park. For an industrial area, it was still pretty heavily forested, and there was a small rancher Mac recalled, that was tucked between two abandoned storage houses.

Just a good of place to start as any.

"Yeah, I think I know a house that might fit the bill." Mac looked at Mulder when he said this, then he pressed his foot down on the gas pedal to accelerate his BMW. He felt a hell of a lot more positive about a good outcome now than he had 30 minutes ago. At least they had a place to start.

The agents parked their car about half a block up the street from the location that Mac thought would be the most likely spot in which to start.

In between two immense storage facilities that were no longer in use; a small single story house was tucked away. The paint on the exterior was faded and peeling and white morning glory had taken over the entire outside of the building. Mac and Mulder exited the car at he same time, both men taking care to shut their doors quietly. Neither one of them wanted to alert Jack (if he was even there) to their presence. They drew their guns, and Mac silently motioned with his head towards the small vine-covered dwelling. Mulder followed Mac's gesture with his eyes and nodded in reply. Separating at the car, each of them took a different route to the house. Mulder ran up the street silently, ducking in behind large garbage bins and piles of refuse to hide his presence. Mac, on the other side of the quiet street, did the same.

When they reached the edge of the property, Mulder signalled that he would go around the back. Mac okayed and relayed that he would check out the front. From where Mulder was standing he could just see the very top corner of Victor's apartment building. The street they were standing on was on the outer edge of the Southern side of the park, the area was heavily treed and hidden away from prying eyes. The abandoned buildings all around ensured privacy.

Mac's right, this has to be the house. T

his was a perfect hide-out to keep someone. The two men parted again, each of them alert and holding their weapons in a ready to fire position.

Mulder crouched down low and quickly peeked around the corner. Nothing there. He called on all of his training, peering around this and looking over that. He did not want to be ambushed before he even entered the house. From somewhere within the dwelling, he could hear the thrum of a generator. Standing beside the door, Mulder held on to the knob, his heart pounding. The area around the back yard showed signs of occupation-the grass was trampled slightly and the Morning Glory had been cut away from the back door.

This must be where Jack is entering and exiting from.

Mulder heard a twig snap and he immediately froze; only his eyes moved, sweeping them from side to side. The rush of adrenaline churned his insides like a tidal whirlpool.

Mac turned the corner and was greeted by the muzzle of Mulder's 38. Mac waved the gun away. Leaning in close to Mulder he whispered into his ear, "No way to get in from the front. The door is nailed shut and so are the windows."

Mulder swept his head towards the back yard and whispered back, "Looks like someone is coming and going from this way. Ready?"

Mac moved to the other side of the door across from Mulder, "Let's do it," he mouthed.

Mulder twisted the knob and opened the door while he squatted down low, aiming his gun and looking at all angles through the door way. Mac did the same, only he remained standing. The men entered the kitchen. Everything was dusty and dirty, but there were dishes in the sink and food wrappers on the counter. Someone had been here or still was. Mulder opened up the old fashioned refrigerator that no longer hummed with electricity. In it he found several bottles of water sitting in a large pot of ice that was only half melted.

Mac looked over Mulder's shoulder into the fridge and then whirled around searching.

Someone WAS still here or why else the ice and water?

Mulder walked silently over to a closed wooden door. It had at one time been painted white, but most of the paint had long since chipped away. He grabbed the knob and started to open it very gently, wincing slightly when it squeaked. Both men listened intently, but neither of them could hear sounds of habitation. The door had a set of steep stairs hidden behind it that led to some sort of a basement. Mulder pointed to himself and then the stairs, indicating that he would check out downstairs. He pulled out a small palm-size halogen flashlight from his overcoat pocket and turning it on, gun and light together he descended the dark, narrow stairwell. Mac watched for a second before going off on his own search of the rest of the main floor of the seemingly deserted place.

When Mulder reached the bottom of the stairs, he swept the beam of his flashlight all around, noting the grey cement walls. The silence in the basement deafening him.

You wouldn't be able to hear a thing from the street with these walls.

Carefully, he searched for signs of life, surveying his surroundings and memorizing them. An accurate knowledge of the area would come in handy in case he had to make a run for it.

His powerful light caught a reflection of something metallic. While keeping the beam of light on the object, he walked over and saw that there were several surgical trays standing cluttered together in the corner. On top of one of the trays there were medical instruments such as scalpels and tweezers.

What the hell?

On another tray Mulder saw packaged needles and rubber tubing mixed with assorted drug related gear and on yet another tray he saw the most disturbing items of all; handcuffs and a chain along with a leather ball gag.

Bondage paraphernalia?

The contents of the last tray alarmed Mulder Where's Victor? He has to be here!

He left the trays and walked over to a table that resembled something you would see in a operating room. Except that, the padded table had leg and arm extensions, and on those extensions there were heavy leather restraints.

Was Victor strapped down to this table?

He shone the light up and down the table looking for...what? He didn't know. Mulder's trained eyes spied several brown spots on the surface of the beige coloured padding ranging in size from a dime to approximately the diameter of a soda can. Placing his flashlight down so that he could look closer at the spots, he reached out with his left hand to touch them. Just as he suspected, blood. Even though it was dry, any practiced agent could tell what it was, Mulder had a sinking feeling that it was Victor's.

After not being able to hear or see any signs that someone was still in the basement and growing tired of the darkness, Mulder washed the walls with his flashlight, looking for a switch or a fuse box. He found both so he walked over to the switch and turned it on; only the basement seemed to be equipped with lights. He expected to be bathed in brightness, but he was only greeted by a single dim bulb hanging high over the empty table.

It'll do.

Mulder shut off his flashlight and took a closer look at his surroundings. Stark and barren was what came first to mind. Even with this little amount of light he could see almost the whole basement. He looked up at the ceiling, feeling reassured that he could still hear Mac creeping around upstairs. Mulder scanned around, his eyes coming to rest on a small half door located under the stairs.

Mulder's first thought was storage? then perfect for hiding!. Gun to the ready, Mulder walked cat-like over to the little door.

Sinking to his haunches while with his back against the wall, he reached out and flung open the door, sending the knob crashing into the opposite wall of where he was crouched. A dull light washed out of the open door, pointing his gun, Mulder turned quickly into the threshold and then stared, paralyzed by what he saw...

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac finished combing the main floor for signs of Victor. The only signs that he had found which indicated that someone was living here was in one of the bedrooms; there was a single mattress on the floor covered with a sleeping bag and at the foot of the mattress there was a duffle bag. The total contents inside the bag consisted of two complete changes of clothes, a Polaroid camera with 6 pictures left on the film, 5 wrapped needles, Is this guy diabetic?, and a box of un-lubricated condoms .

Condoms?

In the bathroom he found men's shaving effects, a very grubby towel, a face cloth along with a toothbrush though no paste could be seen and a bar of generic white soap.

The bathtub held three large containers of water. The bottles were similar to the ones used in an office building. Mac assumed the water was for flushing the toilet and washing. As he was finishing up his inspection, the agent spied the corner of a manila coloured envelope peeking out from under the mattress. He squatted down and pulled it out, dumping its contents on the grey sleeping bag. Mac stared at the items, then picked up a stack of the instant photos and looked through them, studying the pictures.

All of the Polaroids were of Victor. Victor leaving his apartment building, Victor entering his building, Victor coming out of shops or just standing still waiting at a cross walk. Several of them were taken in the park. A few of the photos even had Mulder in them. In those, Mulder's face had been scribbled over with blue ink, but Mac could still tell it was the FBI Agent. All of the pictures had been snapped during daylight hours. Mac guessed that Jack wouldn't risk using a flash bulb; Victor would notice something like that. He wondered briefly where Jack had hidden to take these; some of the shots were taken at a very close distance.

He put the Polaroids carefully back in the envelope. In every one Victor was either smiling (the Mulder shots) or was straight-faced and serious (the alone shots). In Mac's opinion, Vic looked nothing less than stunningly handsome in all of them.

Could he even take a bad picture?

With a pang of longing, Mac pushed away his inappropriate thoughts of Victor. Taking the envelope with him, he left the bedroom and passed through the kitchen.

There was no doubt in Mac's mind now that this was where Jack had been staying. When he reached the top of the stairs he heard a crash. Mac threw the envelope onto the counter top and drew his weapon. Suddenly, he heard Mulder yelling out his name with urgency, telling him that he had found Victor and to call 911. Mac holstered his gun and started down the stairs taking two at a time while pulling out his cell phone.

Mulder was staring at Victor through yet another doorway, only this one was full-sized. He was laying flat on his back with blood covering most his face, as well as a large pool of it beneath his head. The scarlet liquid spread out underneath him to form an imperfect circle about one foot in diameter. From his position, Mulder was also able to see that Victor had blood all over his bare chest as well.

OH MY GOD !

There was a man lying on top of Victor, Jack, Mulder assumed, covering most of the agent's body. The guy seemed to be bleeding too. Though it felt like minutes to Mulder, it actually had taken him only a couple of seconds to absorb the grisly scene and then shout for Mac, "MAC. MAC COME QUICK ! IT'S VIC, CALL 911!

Mac reached the bottom of the rickety stairs at the same time as he pushed an unmarked button on his cell phone. The pre-programmed number dialled through to the Agency's infirmary/emergency room automatically. Hed phoned this number only once before; the last time was when Victor had been shot and at the same time, LiAnn had called out rather dramatically, that she had broken her leg. The phone beeped through and was answered on the first ring.

What's the emergency Mac?" asked a male voice.

Mac thought the operator must have call display, because he did not recognize the calm, masculine voice that spoke to him. Because reception was fuzzy already, Mac had to squat in the frame of the small half-door and recite what he was seeing. His task was impaired by Mulder, who was rolling a body that looked like Jack's off the unconscious Victor, thus blocking his view.

Mulder glanced quickly over his shoulder, acknowledging Mac with a look before turning back to start checking to see if Victor was still alive.

Mac could not believe all the blood that he was seeing, and he hoped to God that it wasn't all Victor's. Swallowing down the lump in his throat Mac said, a lot more calmly than he felt, "It's Victor, he's down. Yes again!" He impatiently snapped into the phone.

Mac pulled out his key chain as he talked and depressed a small yellow button on his automatic lock/unlock device for his car; thereby setting off his location beacon so that the medic-team could find them.

"There's a lot of blood. I don't know what happened to him." It was then that Mac caught a glint of silver lying on the floor. Seeing the scalpel covered in blood, Mac's eyes widened and he uttered in panic into the phone, "Shit, I think he's been stabbed! Hurry up and get a team out here! Okay, were in a small house between the old Atlas and North Shore storage houses. It's covered in green plant stuff... I don't know! Jesus Christ I'm not a fucking botanist!"

Mac was distressed over Victor's condition. He wanted to be in there helping Mulder, who was glancing his way wide-eyed and yelling, "Hurry up," not answering questions about what kind of ivy was growing out front. "Look, I gotta go; Agent Mulder needs my help. It's the only house on this street for Christ sakes. They can't miss it!" Frustrated, Mac hung up on the man on the other end, before another stupid question could be posed to him.

After Mulder had shouted for Mac to come and help, he re-holstered his own gun and scrambled into the hidden room. Climbing right over the prone men, he began pulling Jack off of Victor. Mulder looked up when he heard Mac on the phone asking for help. He could hear Mac shouting and saw that the other man seemed to be arguing with someone.

Isn't he supposed to be talking to 911?

Mulder turned to him and yelled a panicky, "Hurry up." Grunting, he finally managed to pull Jack off Victor and drag the limp body a few feet away. Being partnered with a medical doctor in certain situations had its advantages; this was one of those instances.

Mulder, who had seen Scully perform the same procedure hundreds of times, stuck two shaky fingers up against Victor's carotid artery. Relief washed through him when he felt a strong but fast pulse rate. He grabbed a small white cloth that was lying near a tray and hastily folded it up and pressed the material to Victor's forehead, trying to stop the cut from bleeding more. Mac, in the meantime, had put away his phone and was crawling over to Mulder and Victor.

Seeing that Mulder seemed to have apparently forgotten that there was another wounded man in the room, Mac scurried over to Victor's captor and felt for a pulse at the neck, the same way Mulder had done. Mac didn't do this out of sympathy for another injured person, for all he cared the man could be dying right in front of his eyes, Jack would not receive any help from either one of the agents. He was checking to see if Jack was still alive from necessity; presumed "dead" people sometimes tended to rear up at just the wrong moments. Mac had no wish to be shot or stabbed in the back; one casualty was enough.

"He's dead," Mac announced indifferently.

"GOOD!" replied Mulder after Mac informed him of Jack's death.

Saves me the trouble of killing him.

Mac came over and knelt down on the other side of Victor, sitting across from Mulder he asked hesitantly, "Victor..Is he...?" With all that blood on him it was hard for Mac to tell

"He's alive." Mulder replied in a monotone, it was really all Mulder could do to keep his emotions on a tight leash. He wanted to pick Victor up and hug him close and cry for joy that he was still alive, but Mulder could hardly do that in front of the man's partner. So instead he tried to act professionally detached. "I think he's only unconscious, at least I hope he isn't comatose. Most of the blood seems to have come from Jack over there." Mulder pointed unnecessarily towards the corpse.

He looked directly into Mac's deep brown eyes and continued on, blinking back his emotions. "The only open wound I can see is the cut right here." Mulder removed the makeshift bandage and lifted what little bangs Victor had, showing Mac the cut. It had stopped streaming blood and was now just dripping at a slow pace. Two large tear-shaped drops broke away, slowly sliding down the right temple of the motionless Victor.

Mac stared down onto the face of the man who, in the beginning, he had tried to hate, but never really could. They had grown closer over time and forged their own bond of friendship above and beyond LiAnn. Looking down now at the battered face of his best and only friend, Mac was speechless. Trying to describe his feelings was impossible. Victor looked so young and vulnerable. His usual scowl was smoothed out and if Mac hadn't known better he would have thought that he was merely asleep. Mac supposed that, in a way, he was. The torture Victor had endured in his captivity was evident. From the pair of blackened eyes to the purplish-red skin burn ringing his neck; Victor was a mess. Mac also thought he saw a large hickey next to a bite mark on Victor's chest, but he couldn't be positive because of all of the blood that was on Victor obscured his view. Mac tore his eyes away from Vic and looked to Mulder for confirmation of the surface damage done to his partner. What he saw was a pair of hazel eyes that were shiny with unshed tears. Mac quickly averted his gaze back down to Victor and pretended not to notice what he had seen.

Mulder was not ashamed of his feelings for Victor, but he did however, think that Victor would not be impressed having him cry over his body, so after a minute Mulder pinched the bridge of his nose and quickly swiped at the corners of his eyes. Giving a wet sniff Mulder ran his hand over Victor's torso and continued on with his amateur check-up of his condition. "His chest's fine. He's hasn't been stabbed anywhere that I can see or feel. I don't know exactly what this guy did to him, but Victor took one hell of a beating, that's for sure," Mulder said sadly. He gently ran his finger tips across the now scabbed-over cut on Victor's right cheek bone.

You poor bastard, what did he do to you?

"Judging by the bruises," Mulder pointed to the extensively damaged areas on the neck, "Jack must have been choking him and somehow Victor managed to grab the blade over there and stick it in him." Mulder kept thinking of Scully and what she would do.

Check out the rest of him, that's what.

"Here." Mulder said to Mac. "Help me roll him over. On the count of three, push him my way. Ready?"

Mac nodded and said "Yep." Mulder counted down and on three Mac gently pushed the unconscious man towards Mulder's lap. Mulder caught and held Victor's position. Neither man was ready for what he saw. Mac gasped and exclaimed loudly, "Holy Shit!"

Mulder put one hand to his mouth and swore emphatically. "FUCK!" The ruined condition of Victor's once beautiful back shocked the hell out of him. Mulder considered himself to be a hardened agent, he had seen a lot of violence in his years at the bureau, but to see violence, like this, committed against someone he cared about, was another story. It was not so easy to deal with when you knew the victim.

Mac didn't need Agent Mulder to tell him that Vic had been beaten with a belt and that the buckle had been the culprit in creating so much ruin. Unfortunately, Mac had once been on the receiving end of a beating with a leather belt; actually, more than once. The bruises on his partner's back were still deepening in colour and some of the welts still bled and wept. Mac knew from experience that cleaning those wounds would be agony.

Mulder stared unblinking, wishing that Jack was alive so he could kill him all over again himself. He looked at his wristwatch and then snapped at Mac, "Where the hell is the ambulance? You did call 911 right?"

The look on Mac's face told it all; of course he hadn't called 911, "NO, I called the agency." He looked at his own watch, saw that 12 minutes had gone by already and knew that they should be arriving soon. "It's policy to look after our own. The chopper will be here any minute." After receiving a hard glare from Mulder, Mac added, "A doctor and a medic-team will be flying in to look after him. It's better than the hospital. Trust me." As if on cue, both Mac and Mulder heard the door upstairs being crashed in and then heavy footsteps overhead.

"RAMSEY!" shouted an unfamiliar voice.

"Down the stairs," shouted Mac. He reluctantly left Victor's side to guide the medical team.

Mulder manoeuvred himself so that Victor's head was in his lap but was still resting on his left side. Taking advantage of Mac's brief absence Mulder ran his fingers through the hair on the top of Victor's head while whispering to him softly that everything was going to be alright now.

No thanks to me.

Mulder was overflowing with guilt. He heard a soft moan and saw that Victor had opened up his blackened right eye and was looking up at him.

"Fox, is that really you?" Victor asked, his voice low and raspy.

"It's me." Mulder smiled down at the man in his lap, not even noticing that a fat tear had left his eye and landed in Victor's short hair. He ran the tip of his finger gently over the parts of the younger man's face that were not battered.

Victor returned Mulder's smile with a small, shaky grin of his own, this one showing none of his teeth. "I knew someone would come for me, but I thought it would be Mac and LiAnn." Victor saw the anxiety in his lovers eyes, "Don't worry Fox, I'll be okay." he raised his arm and gripped Mulder's wrist, trying to re-assure the other man as much as himself.

Mulder chuckled softly and ran his finger lightly over Victor's battered lips, "Mac's here directing your rescue squad. God, I should be trying to make you feel better, not the other way around," he chided himself.

Victor blinked twice, feeling as though he was going to pass out again and spoke in a half whisper to Mulder, I want you to be there at the hospital when I wake up, Fox. Promise me."

"I promise, Vic. I will."

Victor finally allowed himself to shut his eyes and black out again, while Mulder still cradled his head.

Mulder's fingers could feel a large lump on the back of Victor's head, and he worried that Victor might have a concussion. He was relieved when the Doctor and his team finally rushed into the room with all of the necessary equipment. Gently pulling himself out from under Victor, Mulder laid Vics head on the small pillow that came with the portable stretcher. Standing up, he backed away a few steps before leaving the room, then stood side by side, shoulder touching shoulder with Mac, both men watching silently as the efficient medical crew assessed Victor's condition. After a moment Mac pulled out his cell phone and dialled the Director's number to let her know what was going on.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mulder, Mac and LiAnn, all impatient, hung around the waiting room of the Agency's infirmary. Victor was safely ensconced behind two opaque, rippled glass doors, but they were not allowed to go in to see him; the watchdog receptionist at the counter by the doors saw to that. So close and yet so far away. No one had so far bothered to come out to tell them anything.

Mulder was pacing the short distance between the doors leading to Victor and the clear glass doors that lead to the long hallway. Back and forth he went, counting off the 6 paces mentally. He would reach the end and then spin around on his heel and walk back the way hed come, repeating the process over and over again.

His pacing was driving LiAnn crazy, but she said nothing, merely glaring at him as she shot him full of imaginary bullets.

Mulder, of course took no notice of her or her angry stare. He only had time for thoughts of Victor. He kept going over all of the what ifs again and again.

Mac chose to pass the time by sprawling sideways in an overstuffed chair with his eyes closed, going over tai-chi moves in his head. This mental tai-chi also helped to calm him.

They had already been waiting there for over two hours. Victor had been flown in by the Agency chopper; the journey taking only 15 minutes. Mac and Mulder had to drive back on their own; it was a mostly silent trip that had taken 40 minutes, arriving at the agency a full 20 minutes faster than it had originally taken to get to Jack's hideaway. Mac had broken every speed law and ignored every road sign there was, just to get back as fast as he could, unaware that they wouldn't be permitted to see Victor immediately.

LiAnn had joined them shortly after their arrival at the infirmary; she had come with Dobrinski, but he had left her waiting there with the other two while he went off to find the Director. Mac had begun to contemplate going to look for her on his own account when he saw her marching down the hall with Dobrinski by her side.

Dobrinski held the glass door open for her and followed her in.

"What's going on with Victor? Anyone know?" The Director looked at all three of them, waiting for her question to be answered. All three agents shrugged their shoulders in time with their head shakes.

LiAnne spoke first, "No one knows a thing. According to Darla over there..." The receptionist at the desk looked up at the mention of her name but then went back to her own work when she saw that she was not involved in the conversation, "...He's still being examined. No one will talk to us, and we aren't allowed in to see him," she said petulantly.

"Yeah," Mac chimed in, "No info; no entrance. Typical Agency procedure." He rolled his eyes and looked from the Director to Mulder who Mac was glad to see had stopped pacing, although he obviously did not plan on adding to the conversation.

"Well," the Director said firmly, "I'll go see what's going on. Wait here."

Not that the three of them had any choice in the matter.

Marching purposefully, the Director disappeared through the doors leading into the examining rooms. Dobrinski remained behind to wait with the three of them. She returned a few minutes later with a pleasant-faced man with deep brown skin, who looked to be in his late 30's. The Director introduced the man as Dr. Anwar, and judging by his soft accent, Mulder placed him as having come from Jamaican descent. After the introductions were done Dr. Anwar got down to business.

He flipped open the metal clip board that held Victor's medical charts and recited the results to the expectant crowd, "Well, firstly let me tell you that Mr. Mansfield is going to be ok." Dr. Anwar noticed the look of relief that showed on everyone's face. "He has a mild concussion that will leave him with a headache for a few days, but there should be no lasting damage. He was awake, by the way, for the exam. As for his other injuries, there is no permanent damage to his windpipe beyond a hoarse throat and a friction burn mixed in with a whole cluster of bruises that will last up to a couple of weeks."

The Doctor looked up from his chart and saw that everyone was listening intently to every word he said. Flipping the page he looked down at his notes and continued, "We stitched up the cut in his hairline on his forehead. It was fairly deep and took 12 of my best sutures to close it up, but there won't be a visible scar when it's all healed, and the small laceration on his cheek took...lemme see..." He flipped to yet another page, "...Oh here it is, 4 stitches to close. Unfortunately, depending on how well his skin heals, he will have a small scar from that. Nothing too noticeable." Smiling, Dr. Anwar said, lightly, "I told him it would just add some character to his face. Um, the welts on his back were another matter, open weals can very nasty. Victor says that they were the result of his being strapped with a leather belt and buckle. The marks should heal on their own, and we cleaned them all..." Mac inwardly winced at the mention of the cleansing of the open cuts, "...and bandaged up the ones that were the worst. The rest just need to be air dried."

The Doctor coughed lightly into his hand before scanning over his chart again. He finally closed it, and the pages hitting together made a soft clapping noise. "Now, along with the blackened eyes and various other minor bumps and bruises that will heal in time, his overall blood levels need to be built up again. Agent Mansfield needs to eat a diet of foods high in iron over the next few days. In consideration of his shrunken stomach and the state of dehydration he's in, I would recommend supplementing what little he can eat with multi-vitamin tablets containing iron. He can go home tomorrow morning."

"But," the Doctor's tone of voice turned more serious, "...there's something else you should know. Even though Agent Mansfield denies being sexually assaulted by anal penetration - and the rape kit testing I performed on him backs up his claim - I think there is enough evidence to prove that something did happen. Exactly what, I can't say for sure. He was very tight-lipped about the whole ordeal."

"What exactly are you getting at, Doctor?" Everyone standing there was thinking the same question, but it was Dobrinski who voiced it.

"What I mean is that even though he wasn't raped in the traditional sense, sexual assault may still have occurred. He has several bite marks on his chest and a few hickey-like marks that are a couple of days old."

Mulder's eyes widened with the last comment. He hoped that the hickeys the Doctor were referring to were the ones made by him.

Dr. Anwar looked to the Director and said to her, "Mr. Mansfield at first adamantly refused our suggestion to perform a rape kit. He argued vigorously against it, but knowing the perp's history and with Mansfield being drugged and unconscious for some of his time in captivity, I insisted on running those tests. Just in case. I also ran a complete drug screen after I found the two puncture marks on the inside of his elbow...he came up positive for heroin, and a trace amount of a drug known to knock you unconscious . He claims that he was only injected twice with the heroin, and judging by the fact that he has shown no signs of de-toxing from the drug, it's safe to assume that he is in no danger of becoming a habitual user. He did say that both times the needles were from fresh packages. The knock-out drug entered his system when he was first taken, that's how your perp managed to grab Victor. Also, I did an HIV test, with his permission of course, but I think his risk of exposure was minimal. He will receive the results when they come back - in confidence of course."

So that's what the needles were for! The last thing Mac dreamed those needles hed found were for, was shooting Victor up with drugs.

The Director nodded her head in affirmation of what the Doctor had told her. "When can he go back to work?" If this cold attitude shocked the Doctor, he did not let on.

"Well, to be honest ma'am, he shouldn't even be going home tomorrow. I told him that he would need 2 or 3 days in the infirmary to recover, then another week at home after that. But he insisted on going home tomorrow morning." The Doctor smiled before continuing, "He even said that he had friends who would help him sneak out if I didn't let him go; he intimated to me that they were trigger happy...." He laughed at that point, breaking the tension.

"Give him a week off his feet then he can go back to light, desk duty," recommended the doctor.

All five people listening knew that Victor would not like desk duty one bit, but the Director called the shots, and she personally did not care what Victor would or would not like.

"He'll need a full psych exam and work-up. Two weeks of recovery time should be enough for him; that is, if Mansfield feels rested by then, and if his psychiatrist approves. I must reiterate that it's important that you make him go and talk to one of the agency's shrinks about what happened. It's been in my experience that one does not just recover psychologically overnight from an ordeal such as Mr. Mansfield has been through. Now if you'll excuse me I must get back to work. "

"Fine, I make sure he sees an agency head doctor. Thank you, Dr. Anwar." The Director turned to her right-hand man and said, "Let's go Dobrinski. Mac, LiAnn, I need you in the office tomorrow morning, 10:00 am sharp. Mr. Mulder, it was nice meeting you. You can go home any time." The Director went up to Mulder and reached out to shake his hand. When he complied she grabbed a hold of him and pulled him close; so close in fact that Mulder thought she was going to kiss him and leaned back slightly. The Director laughed and whispered quietly in his ear, "Take care of Victor. See that he gets back to his place tomorrow in one piece. After what he's been through, I'm sure he'll need a good psychologist to help him make it through the night." She backed away and turned to Dobrinski, then with a nod of her head, they left.

Mulder watched the Director walk away, wondering what her game was. With all of her innuendo and sly comments, she obviously thought she knew something about him and Victor. Exactly what, Mulder wasn't sure. Either way it was really none of her business.

Before Dr. Anwar left the waiting area he asked, "Which one of you is named Fox Mulder?"

Slightly surprised, Mulder answered with, "That'll be me."

"Well can you come with me? Victor's been asking for you," said the Doctor, amicably.

"What about us? Were HIS partners," Mac stated emphatically. "I need to see him too."

"Me too," LiAnn piped in, jealous of Mulder.

"Sorry," the Doctor replied, "but one visitor at a time is enough for now. He'll be discharged first thing in the morning; you can go and see him at his home after that. He'll be fine, honestly," he added, when he saw the worried faces of the other two Agents.

Mulder, who had managed to look guilty even though he didn't feel it, said to Mac before he left with the Doctor, "I'll call you if anything changes, Ok?"

"All right. Tell Vic we'll call on him tomorrow at home and see how he's doing," answered Mac glumly.

Ok, I will. Promise." Mulder turned and walked away with the Doctor. As he was going through the doors he heard LiAnn call him an asshole under her breath.

Mulder ignored her remark and thought what a bitch.

As soon as the thick glass doors closed behind Mulder, he ascertained how to get to Victor's room, and then went immediately. He needed to see the man who had made him feel good even when his life had been falling apart all around him.

Entering the plain hospital room and glancing at the clock on the wall, Mulder was a little amazed to see that it read 10:00 PM.

Already? Where did the time go?

Dr. Anwar had warned him that Victor had been given a mild sedative, so coming into the quiet room and seeing Victor asleep did not surprise him very much.

Victor was asleep on his stomach, and he looked peaceful. His face was relaxed; no lines of worry crossed the bridge of his nose or his forehead, and Mulder thought that he looked beautiful despite his black eyes.

There was a nurse checking on his vitals when Mulder arrived. She smiled warmly at him and asked, "Mr. Mulder?" Mulder nodded in assent. "Good, Mr. Mansfield has been asking about you. He will want you to be here when he wakes up. Buzz if you need anything." The pretty nurse handed Mulder a pillow and a green cotton blanket and pointed out a padded chaise lounge chair that was in the upright position. She said goodnight to him and then left.

Mulder waited until the door had closed, and the soft footsteps had faded away before pulling the chair right to the edge of the hospital bed. He did not sit down immediately. All of the events that had unfolded during the day had finally caught up with him, and suddenly he felt exhausted. Before getting some of his own much needed rest, Mulder bent over and kissed Victor lightly on his cheek. He let his lips linger over the soft, sweet smelling skin beneath, noting in passing that somewhere along the line someone had bathed the sleeping agent.

Finally, Mulder sank heavily into the chair, blinking back his tears. His actions were not unlike those done at Scully's bedside, when in sheer, overwhelming joy, he had wept over her prone form upon finding out that her cancer had disappeared.

Worn out, he placed both hands on Victor's left arm and rested his head between them. Then he silently wept, relieved that he was here at his new lover's bedside instead of the graveside he had feared.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

LiAnn jammed the key into the lock, opened up her apartment door, and then kicked it shut behind herself. She was furious that she had not been allowed to stay behind with Victor. She couldn't believe that her former fianc would choose Mulder over her or Mac.

That guy must have some sort of hold on Vic.

She had every intention of going to see Victor in the morning to find out just what exactly was going on. LiAnn had made up her mind that she was going to have a talk with Victor; she wanted to see how he felt about the possibility of them getting back together.

She walked down the unlit hall to her bedroom. Once there she quickly stripped down and wrapped a towel around herself. After running a hot bath she scented the water with her favourite, sandalwood bath oil and after a long, comforting soak in the perfumed water, she decided to turn in for the night.

Sleep did not come easily for LiAnn, and when it finally claimed her, the slumber was restless and her dreams were vivid

LiAnn, dressed in a very sensible beige 3-piece suit, stopped in front of the door to her apartment. After a few seconds of hesitation, she grabbed the knob and turned it.

"Strange..." she thought to herself, "...the door's locked."

That was unusual since her fianc should be home by now. Being the considerate man that he was, Victor usually left the door open for her, knowing she'd be arriving shortly after him. This day however, LiAnn was coming home a little bit late, after a hard day at the office.

Managing to fish out her own key, LiAnn let herself in. And as she entered, the exhausted woman called out, "Honey, I'm home!" Crossing over to the kitchen counter, she deposited her briefcase on top of it and called out again, "Victor, are you here?" a little louder this time.

Leaving the kitchen area, LiAnn saw that Victor's leather jacket and gun holster were hanging on the brass coat rack. Thinking that he must be in the shower, LiAnn started down the thickly carpeted hall, wondering as she walked, why there was a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom. In fact, LiAnn finally notices, there are two sets of clothing leading the way: two t-shirts, two pairs of socks and so on.

Once she had reached the entrance to the master bedroom, LiAnn hesitantly pushed the partially cracked door all the way open. And what she saw in her bedroom shocked her.

There were two men in her bed and both were naked. One of the men was Fox Mulder, who was stretched out on top of Victor - HER fianc - kissing him passionately. Mulder rolled off of Victor when he heard LiAnn's startled gasp and rested easily on one elbow; palm under his chin and cheek. He smirked up at her while at the same time idly running the tips of his fingers over Victor's bare chest. Mulder was totally unconcerned about being caught in bed with Victor, and he knew full well that his presence was intentionally provoking her.

LiAnn, frozen by the scene, could do nothing but continue to stare in silent incredulity. After a second, Mulder stopped smirking and asked her malevolently, "Something the matter, LiAnn?"

"What the hell are you doing? In MY bed with MY fiance?" she finally demanded, trying not to sputter too much as she spoke. By emphasizing the possessive pronoun 'my', she was attempting to tell Mulder that he owned neither.

Back to smirking again, Mulder replied cheekily, "I think it's fairly obvious. Don't you?"

Now her anger was unleashed, and feeling nothing but contempt for the F.B.I. agent, LiAnn yelled, "Get out right now! Victor doesn't want YOU! He still loves ME!"

"Nooo.... LiAnn. That's where you're wrong, he USED to love you. Now he loves...me." Mulder's pleasure in tormenting her was obvious.

"That's not true," she countered hotly, knowing that she was defeated anyway.

"Yes it is. The minute Mac came to town you tossed Victor away like yesterday's leftovers. You broke his heart, LiAnn, and now I'm in the process of mending it for him." The man was gloating by throwing the ugly truth back in her beautiful face.

"But..but...Victor what about me?" LiAnn made her plea directly to Victor, who had been lying on his back with his arms folded under his head, remaining silent for the whole impassioned exchange.

She watched silent, as Victor looked to Mulder first and then smiled up at the American agent. She continued to stare as he batted his long, dark lashes up at his lover; green eyes glowing with contentment. Victor sighed, then looking back to her, he turned off his smile and set his mouth into a hard line. His eyes remained cold and unemotional when he spoke to her.

"You blew it, LiAnn. I gave you everything I had, and you threw it away. We're just friends now. Nothing more."

As if having to say all that had exhausted him, Victor rolled over onto his stomach and closed his eyes, promptly falling back asleep.

Mulder spoke to LiAnn, no longer hiding the hostility in his voice, "Face the facts, sweetie, he doesn't want you any more. You're old news." Mulder reached over and began to stroke Victor's back; the white sheet covering him only to his waist. Gloating over his triumph, Mulder bent his head and just before he planted a kiss on Victor's shoulder blade he hissed, "Now leave us alone, and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out." Not waiting for her to reply, Mulder continued on with his intended task, kissing Victor all over his back.

Rejected and hurt, LiAnn backed out of the bedroom, unable to take her eyes off the two men. Because she wasn't watching where she was going, LiAnn accidentally backed into the door frame, knocking her already aching head hard against it.

The jolt of hitting her head in the dream forced LiAnn to wake from her sleep. Rolling over, she punched her pillow into the perfect thickness and laying back down she mumbled angrily, "Mulder, you're such an asshole."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac stepped out of the shower and towelled dried his short spiky hair. He still couldn't believe that Victor had asked to see Mulder over LiAnn and him.

So okay, theyre lovers after all, but still.

Mac was exhausted, hed been on an emotional roller-coaster ever since his partners disappearance. The huge adrenaline rush of the day's events had left him feeling as if someone had picked him up and wrung him out like an old dishrag. Wiping the fog off of the mirror, he started shaving. All the while, he could not help but feel that he had already been given his chance with Victor and blown it.

But damn it! How was he to know that Victor was into guys as well? Of course, all of the harmless flirting that they had done in the past made sense, now, but at the time, had Mac felt that perhaps he was just seeing what he wanted see and hearing what he wanted to hear. In the end, he had chalked up the several flirtatious episodes he had experienced with Victor to his own wishful thinking.

Now that Mulder was in the picture, Mac would never find out if he and Victor could have made a real go of it.

LiAnn would've really hated that anyway.

Contrary to the popular belief, Mac, in his infinite pride, did not believe in cheating with a person who was already spoken for. Therefore and unfortunately, Victor had now been rendered off-limits to him. However, he figured that all he would have to do was just sit and wait, biding his time until another opportunity came along, and if that occasion should ever come up, Mac would not be so foolish as to let it slip by him again. He removed his robe and crawled naked into his large bed.

Mulder has to go home sometime. was Mac's last thought before drifting off.

The blinds were closed in Macs living room and the lights had been set on a very clichd low. Two large, black, wrought-iron candelabras were standing nearby, each holding their capacity of 6 white pillar candles. All 12 candles were lit, throwing off flickers of light, making shadows dance on the plain, white, modern walls.

Victor, who was sitting on the love seat, was looking curiously at the surroundings around him. He gazed at the candles and then at the only light in the room that was fully lit; a small spotlight highlighting a modern oil painting. The music playing in the background was lyrical, soft as Bryan Adams crooned that Everything I do, I do it for you...

Victor called out to his partner, "I thought we were just going to catch up on paperwork. How come it looks like all the trappings of a date?"

Seconds later, Mac emerged from the depths of his kitchen carrying two full wine glasses in one hand and a ridiculously expensive-looking receptacle holding the liquid in the other. Handing a glass to Victor he set the bottle on the coffee table.

Victor accepted the offered drink and sipped from the crystal tentatively. It was obvious that he was a bit nervous, and Mac standing over him, watching him drink the wine wasnt helping. Victor swallowed, and smiling shyly, he looked up at Mac. With big green eyes accentuated by dark, dark lashes he said in a low tone. "Thanks."

Victor had no idea what effect his smile and his demure gaze had on his male partner. Mac dropped into a spot on the love seat, right next to Victor, intentionally invading his personal space. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the older mans natural essence, a scent that was uniquely Victor; citrus mixed in with his cologne.

Breathing in the heady aroma had left Mac with a feeling of aggressiveness, and the desire to control, having decided that he had done enough waiting for Victor to come around and see him for what he was; a potent lover and not simply his partner. He shifted himself closer still to Victor, reaching out and plucking the wine glass from Victors hand. Setting the two glasses down heavily next to the bottle, he pushed himself on top of a very surprised Victor, forcing the other man to retreat backwards to avoid his blatant advances.

"What are you doing Mac?," Victor managed.

Mac had Victor trapped between his own body, and the padded armrest of the small couch. Victor in an attempt to stand, pushed himself up using his elbows as leverage, but the manoeuvre failed as Mac grabbed a handful of the green shirt that he was wearing - a personal favourite of Mac's - and pulled him back down with a hard jerk.

When Victor opened his mouth to protest, Mac covered Vics mouth with his own and obscenely shoved his tongue inside, kissing him roughly and bruising his lips. Vic tried moving his head from side to side to escape the brutal kisses, but Mac held him firmly, using one hand to pin Victors wrists together, while with the other, he reached down to untuck the shirt from Victor's jeans.

Victor after some struggling, managed to free his wrists and tried to push Mac off him, but the effort, though valiant, was in vain, because Mac has already succeeded in getting Victors shirt open by ripping it viciously, scattering buttons everywhere. The shirt taken care of, Mac moved on to undoing the belt around Victor's waist. The button fly jeans proved to be no difficulty for Mac as he quickly undid the buttons one-handed. Hed given up on restraining Victors wrists and now chose to control him by simply wrapping his other strong hand around Victors throat and squeezing.

Through the whole ordeal Victor kept saying things like "No" and "Mac please stop it, you're hurting me," as he tried to discourage his attacker, but his cries fall on deaf ears. Mac was not listening to the pleadings and protests coming from his partner.

In Mac's mind Victor really wanted this even though he appeared to be fighting. Eventually, all of Victor's struggling took a toll and wore him out. Mac, who had been biting and sucking at Victor's neck, smiled, believing that since the handsome man below him had given up fighting, he was therefore giving his consent to the inevitable.

Mac yanked down Victor's jeans to his knees, further trapping his legs. He flipped Victor over and leaned in to bite the base of his neck hard, making the man beneath him cry out in pain, "Please, Mac, I don't want this," he protested once again, But Mac was engorged and ready, and he didn't take into consideration that Victor might not be. Spitting into his palm, Mac rubbed himself lewdly against Victors smooth, hard ass, then suddenly, without warning, he plunged himself into Victor's tight anus. He was forced to stop about three inches of the way in, the tight concentric muscle prevented him from entering any further. Victor, in agony, screamed from the pain and humiliation, but Mac was oblivious to everything except the sensation of Victor's tight, tight channel.

Pushing a little harder, Mac could feel it when the small muscle spasmed and then gave way, blanketing him in ecstasy. Mindless of the weak struggles and cries beneath him, and to the fact that his way was now lubricated by blood, Mac continued to push into Victor over and over again. Grabbing Victor by the hair he wrenched the sweaty head to its side and hissed, "I wanted to see you in the hospital, Vic. You should have let me see you." He then invaded Victor's now submissive mouth with his tongue and orgasmed with an intensity he had never felt before.

Mac jackknifed up into a sitting position in his bed. Flinging back the quilt and swinging his legs out of bed, he bent over and cradled his head in his hands.

Oh god, what just happened? I haven't had a wet dream in years.

Rising up, Mac flipped on the small lamp at his bedside. He was embarrassed, but beyond that he was ashamed, ashamed of himself for dreaming about raping Victor. He couldnt believe that he had hurt his partner and best friend like that, then had an orgasm over it.

Maybe he was the one who should see a psychiatrist.

Mac walked into the ensuite, wrenched the water on and then stepped into the cold spray of the shower.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor could not believe the humiliation of being subjected to having an extra long cotton swab shoved up his ass in search of semen, and by an agency doctor too! God if he ever tells anybody...

He had told the doctor that he hadn't been fucked, but the doctor wouldn't listen to him, insisting that the test was for his own safety. The examination and subsequent repair of his battered body could not be over quick enough for Victor. When it finally was, he had been offered a sedative and hed taken it, not thinking that it would work so soon. Hed wanted to see Mulder first, to talk to him about what had happened. Mulder was a psychologist after all; he would know what to do.

Victor couldn't face LiAnn and especially not Mac just yet, even though he knew that they would both be there, waiting to hear any news of him. He would talk to them tomorrow. The doctor had promised to send Mulder in before leaving the room, but before Victor had a chance to see his lover, he had felt his eyes grow heavy and no sooner had he shut them, than he was asleep.

Victor ran, full throttle, through the park. He was barefoot and bare-chested, and it was dark out. The air was cold enough for Vic to see his own breath as he ran. The forest started to move, to undulate, then it began to grow close around him and suddenly the branches of a very old Douglas fir wrapped around him and pulled him in tight to its trunk. Scrambling to break free, Victor managed to crawl out from under the scratchy branches on his hands and knees, but before he could get to his feet and start running again, he froze as he saw a pair of feet, clad in steel-toed work boots before him.

Victor looked up slowly, straight into Jack's ice blue eyes. The moon was shining behind Jack, making him appear even more ominous than the last time they had met. Jack smiled down at Victor who was still frozen in the same position, terrified. In his right hand he was twirling a pair of metal handcuffs around and around on one finger; in the left he had such a tight grip on his leather belt that his knuckles were white.

Victor, though bodily paralyzed with fear, finally managed to shout out, "HELP!"

Jack laughed in derision. "When a man cries for help in the woods, can anyone really hear him? Give it up doll-face, I've got you all over again."

Victor swallowed down his rising gorge and tried to sound unafraid as he spoke. "I k-killed you." But he was unsuccessful, he sounded frightened even to his own ears.

Jack found this last statement of Victor's funny. "Yes, thats true, Victor, but every time you open your mouth for your boyfriend, it will always, always pass through you mind first, what I made you do. I may be dead but memories of you and I will stay with you, forever." Jack shrugged his shoulders and ceased twirling the handcuffs. He reached down to the scruff of Victor's neck, and digging his fingers into the tender skin at the nape of Victor's neck, Jack pulled the agent to his knees. "Now be a good boy like you were before and open your mouth... nice and wide now."

Unable to control his body or his mind, Victor obeyed, obediently opening his mouth to receive Jacks erection.

Victor woke up then, gagging and short of breath. He was sweating but despite that, he still felt compelled to pull up the thin blanket that he had kicked off, so that it rested right under his chin, in an attempt to form some sort of a protective barrier.

Great. Nightmares. Just what I need.

He sat up and turned on the small fluorescent light in the headboard, almost relieved to see Mulder asleep in the chair next to his bed. The older agents head was resting on the edge of the mattress, and Victor somehow felt safer. No longer sleepy, he sat there silently and watched Mulder sleep. The other man's eyelids were fluttering, and Victor thought that Mulder was probably having a bad dream too. It seemed to be the night for them. He propped up his pillow beneath his neck, and watched Mulder closely, fascinated by the small tremors and twitches that his body was making.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

After Mulder had run out of tears, hed clumsily reached for the small box of Kleenex that sat on the single drawer night stand near Victor's bed. He blew his nose as quietly as he could, even though he knew that Victor wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. After tossing the semi-wet tissue across the room into the garbage can, Mulder sighed. The last 24 hours had finally caught up with him; he needed to sleep for a while, so he laid his head down on the edge of the bed, lightly holding Victor's warm hand. Closing his eyes he let his waking consciousness relax and his subconscious take over

Mulder was lost in a green topiary maze and could hear someone crying out to him. "Help me!" The faint voice pleaded.

He was trying to follow the sound of the frightened voice, but the shrubbery made it difficult to get an accurate reading of the direction that it was coming from.

After hearing another soulful, "Fox, help me! PLEASE!" Mulder stopped to think. Finally he remembered some old advice about mazes - always turn to your right and you will eventually find your way, so he did just that, but soon began to believe that the rule must be wrong, because it seemed like every time he turned that way, he hit a dead end. Still the determined agent kept on running, searching...seeking. Finally when he was almost too exhausted to go on, he turned a corner and found the person that had been crying out for help.

It was Victor.

Suddenly, Mulder realized that he was now standing in the very center of the intricate maze, gazing at his lover who was lying motionless on a table, with a crisp white cotton sheet covering his whole body. Mulder slowly walked over to the chest-high table and saw that Victor had a blue tinge ringing his perfect mouth. Afraid, he ripped back the sheet, revealing bruises circling his lovers neck. The deep, blue-black color stood out stark against Victor's delicate, pale flesh.

"Victor! No! I came for you! I found you." Mulder cried out, grief stricken.

Victors lids fluttered open and green eyes looked up at Mulder, the look in them sad and distant. "But you came too late. I'm already dead." Victor said in a monotone. He sat up and extended his cold hand toward Mulder, but before Mulder could grasp it, another hand intercepted and took it instead. Mulder blinked in incomprehension, and he wondered if the strange hand belongs to an angel, but when he looked back to the table, Victor had gone already, and only the sheet that had covered him remained. Picking up the sheet, Mulder hugged it tightly to his chest, trying to soothe the ache in his heart. He dropped the cotton shroud to the ground and began to spin around and around, looking for, but seeing no sign of Victor.

He was really gone.

Victor, where did you go? VICTOR!" Mulder cried out as loud as he could, but there was still no answer....

Mulder snapped his head up so quickly that he startled Victor, who had been watching him the whole time. Rubbing his eyes to try and clear away the sleep from them, he gazed at Victor as if he was seeing an apparition.

"Hi." Victor grinned down at the slightly dazed man and ruffled his hair gently.

Surprised that Victor was even awake Mulder said, "Hi. Did I wake you?"

"No, I was up. I've had enough sleep. You called out my name, you know. Bad dream?" A concept that Victor could definitely understand.

"Yeah, a bit of one." Mulder hoped that Victor wouldn't ask him about it, because he really didn't feel like talking about it tonight. Maybe in the morning.

"Mmm. Me too. Must be a night for dreams that go bump" Victor answered easily. Holding out his arms he said to his lover, "Come here. I missed you, G-man."

Mulder wrapped his arms around Vic, and they embraced, Victor finally feeling truly safe for the first time since his ordeal had began.

Mulder breathed in Vic's scent deeply, secure in the knowledge that his death had all been a dream only.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"I'm not an invalid, you know. I am capable of opening my door." Victor complained grumpily to Mulder.

"I know, I know. Humour me and let me do it, okay?" Mulder replied blandly to his protesting lover.

Reluctantly, Victor handed over the keys when Mulder put out his hand for them. The truth was, however, that his knuckles were still bruised and sore from his fight with Jack, and his right hand was just as shaky as the left, so getting the key into the lock of his apartment had been far more difficult than he had anticipated. He was silently grateful that Mulder had seen this, and had offered to do it for him.

Victor's nose wrinkled at the smell inside his apartment as soon as he entered. "Jesus Christ, what a mess. And it stinks in here too."

"It doesn't stink, Victor, it's just stale. Why don't you go lie down and I'll clean up for you," Mulder offered. Even though he was not much of a housekeeper himself, he figured that all the place needed was an open window, some air freshener and a sink of soapy water for the dirty dishes. Looking around, Mulder spotted the source of the offending odour, the empty tequila bottle. He dropped his small overnight bag by the door and started to pick up.

Victor couldn't help but smile as he watched Mulder go about tidying up the living room. He knew that if it were Mulder's own apartment, the FBI agent would have simply thrown everything into the kitchen sink and hope the cockroaches would come and cart it all away for him. Smiling at his own thoughts Victor leaned over, picked up Mulder's bag and then went off down the hall to his bedroom. Once there, he dropped the bag on what he considered to be Mulder's side of the bed before flopping down on his own. In the silence of the bedroom, Victor could hear Mulder rattling glasses and opening and closing cupboards.

"Vic, where's your dish soap?" Mulder called out.

"It's under the kitchen sink, left side!" Victor yelled back. He was lying flat on his back, motionless, with his arms stretched out and legs splayed apart. Suddenly, the dark memories of being bound in this position and all that occurred afterwards flooded in, making him feel nauseous. He quickly drew his limbs in tightly to his sides as his whole body tensed with anxiety.

A split second later, Victor got up and left the comfort of his own bed for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and locking it. He wasn't feeling so good; actually he wanted to vomit. Taking deep breaths, Victor turned on the cold water, and then grabbing the side of the sink, he lowered his head and took a deep drink of the cool liquid directly from the tap.

Mulder had heard the bathroom's door closing and its lock clicking into place from where he was.

That's not a good sign.

He knew that Victor wasn't locking the door to keep him out, but to allow himself a sense of security and control, not to mention that he probably didn't want Mulder to see him in such a vulnerable state yet again.

Thinking that knocking on the door to see if he was okay would probably not go over too well, Mulder decided to leave the younger man alone.

Victor will come out on his own when he's good and ready to.

After rinsing his face, Victor brought his eyes up to look at himself in the mirror. What he saw sickened him: black eyes, cuts and bruises everywhere. To him, they were nothing but leftovers from an extremely painful ordeal; reminders of how inadequate and weak he had been, unable to even look after himself.

Jack had managed to sneak up on him in the park because he wasn't paying attention to what was going on around him as was his usual practice. Instead he had been gazing at the stars and thinking of Mulder. And then, during his imprisonment by Jack, he had been unable to prevent himself from being tied up, tortured and abused...

Stop it, Victor! Deal with it like a man. Just forget it ever happened. Now get out there before Mulder thinks something's wrong.

Victor shook his head angrily at his own image in the mirror. He would just force himself to forget it ever happened; that's all there was to it. Tell the shrinks what they wanted to hear. Tell everyone else what they needed to hear, and then in a few months all these feelings of helplessness and insecurity would have dissipated. If he could convince every one to get over it as he already had, then hopefully everything would be okay. All he needed was a little more time to deal with what had happened, and to try and bury the experience as deep as it would go. Then things would be fine. They had to be.

Taking another deep breath he ran his hands over his hair and tried to rub out the dark circles under his eyes. A few minutes later he padded out of the bathroom, looking back and forth between the bedroom and the direction of the living room. Victor didn't want to close his eyes only to see Jack again, so taking another nap was out of the question even though he was very tired. There would be time enough later to worry about how he was going to fall sleep, right now he wanted - needed other things - things that only Fox Mulder could provide.

Having decided, Victor switched directions and headed for the living room. He walked quietly around the corner and snuck up behind Mulder, wrapping his arms around Mulders chest. He hugged the other man to him tightly and then brought his arms up to hook his hands over Mulder's shoulders. He nuzzled his face into the spot between Mulder's shoulder blades and whispered huskily, "God, I missed you. I'm glad you decided to stay a couple of days."

Mulder gave a lop-sided smile to the glass he was washing and replied, "I'm glad I did too." He turned around and gathered his lover up into a tight embrace; feeling the hard lump in Vic's jeans rubbing up against his own burgeoning erection. Mulder looked into Victor's troubled green eyes, searching for any signs of hesitation. When he saw none he leaned into Victor and began kissing him. The kiss quickly went from slow and easy to fast and furious, both tongues darting in and out of one an others' mouth, vying for the warm space within.

Victor broke the kiss first, and grabbing Mulder's hand, pulled him down the hall to the bedroom.

Mulder understood that there was more to the situation than even Victor himself realized. Subconsciously, the Canadian needed this in order to feel in control of his life again. His wanting to make love to Mulder was an unconscious attempt to take back whatever it was that he had lost to Jack. Mulder also knew that Victor just needed to get laid to help him forget about what had happened. Whatever the reasons were, Mulder decided he was not adverse to helping Victor out.

Victor twirled Mulder around so that the man was facing him, then pulled him into another deep kiss. He started undoing the button to Mulder's jeans and roughly jerked down his zipper, more than anxious to get his lover completely undressed. Before long, Mulder had taken over disrobing himself, while Victor started pulling at his own clothing, flinging the garments away without caring where they landed. As soon as Victor was fully unclothed, he pushed his lover onto the bed and dove on top, plundering the agent's mouth, running his tongue enthusiastically from Mulder's bottom lip up to his earlobe, pausing long enough in between the two to bite down and leave several purple marks on his neck and shoulder, while Mulder shut his eyes and delighted in Victor's ardent foreplay.

Positioning himself between Mulder's legs, Vic spread them farther apart. Licking his way down to the firm flat abdomen beneath him, he pushed Mulder's thighs up and used his tongue to lubricate the way, allowing small amounts of saliva to accumulate in his mouth before eagerly applying the warm moisture to the tight opening. He thrust his tongue in and out of Mulder, who was thrashing and moaning.

Mulder couldn't help but growl out his pleasure over what Victor was doing to him. The incredible waves of ecstasy washed over him again and again. When Victor finally sank two fingers in him at once, he thought that he was going to cum right there. He watched dazedly as Victor removed his fingers from deep within him and carefully wiped the leaking fluid from the ends of both of their cocks to rub it up and down his own hard cock for lubrication.

Looking Mulder straight in the eye, Vic rasped, "Are you ready for me?"

Mulder responded immediately by nodding his head, whispering urgently, "Oh, yeah. Do me."

Needing no further encouragement, Victor grabbed Mulder's calves and guided them to his strong shoulders, whispering huskily for Mulder keep them there. Then holding onto himself, he began to guide his hardened organ into Mulder, easing himself in with a slow but continuous motion, pushing into the writhing man under him until he had sunk in all the way, and pausing only then to give Mulder a chance to catch his breath. When he saw that the other man's eyes were closed, Victor demanded hoarsely, "Look at me."

Complying with Vic's wishes, Mulder opened his eyes and gazed into the big green ones looming above him. He tried to block out the bruises that marred his lover's neck and face. He purposely avoided looking at the bite marks on Victor's chest; marks that he hadn't made. Instead, Mulder concentrated on staring straight into Victor's eyes as he had been asked to do.

With their gazes transfixed on one another, Victor began to drive himself home, into the well-stretched ass of Fox Mulder.

Though he didn't intend for it to be so rough, Victor's thrusts became more and more brutish as he neared his orgasm, but Mulder did not protest and when he sensed that Vic's release was near; he used his own idle hand to bring himself off. His own fast pumping motion made him cum first, and when his tight hole clamped down even tighter around Victor's cock, it sent the man on top of him over the edge immediately and Victor came inside of his lover.

Collapsing on top of Mulder, Victor lay where he was, letting the last vestiges of orgasmic bliss wash through him. After awhile, he reluctantly rolled away and reached for the box of tissue, pulling a few out for Mulder and then some for himself. It while he was wiping himself off that the guilt hit him.

What a shit I am! I didn't even think about jacking him off. I just left it up to him to take care of himself.

Victor had been so focused in on his own needs that he had forgotten Mulder might have a few of his own. "I'm sorry," Vic whispered sheepishly.

"Sorry for what?" Mulder asked.

"Sorry for being so selfish. I don't know what came over me. The last time we had sex I recall that I was a little more giving. More reciprocating." Victor was ashamed of the way he had taken Mulder so roughly. Suddenly he as if he had forced himself on Fox. So convinced, was he that he had hurt his lover, Victor tried to get out of bed before Mulder kicked him out.

"Where exactly are you going?" demanded Mulder. He knew what the problem was without having to be told and pulled Victor back down to him to hold him tight.

"I...I feel like you had no pleasure from that at all....I just thought that..." Victor began, but his voice trailed off before he could finish his sentence. He didn't really know what he wanted to say.

Mulder hugged him tighter. "Well you thought wrong, I like strong sex sometimes, so stop worrying about it. I am however worried about you? You know, Victor I would never pressure you into telling me what happened during the time you were kidnapped, but if you need to talk, I'm here for you. Always." As if to convince Victor more Mulder added, "Plus, I am psychologist, remember? Anything you say I'll keep between us. I promise." Mulder would never tell anyone what Vic said to him anyway but he thought that if he brought up the confidentiality clause it might put his nervous lover more at ease.

Victor rolled away from Mulder and rested on his bruised back with his hands together underneath his head. He could still feel where the tender bump was on the back of his head. While staring unblinking up at the ceiling, Victor cleared his throat and began to talk. He wasn't planning on telling his partners about the things that had happened to him, but if he couldn't tell his lover the truth, then who else was there? Victor knew that it would be harder to convince everyone else around him that he really was okay if he didn't at least tell one other person the truth. He trusted Mulder implicitly with what he was going to say. "I..." he started in a hesitant voice, "...I woke up wearing only my jeans and with my left ankle chained to a wall....."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mulder didn't quite know what to say to Victor. It was one thing to imagine what had happened to him, but quite another to actually know it by having the real mental imagery to go along with the narrative. His mouth was dry, and for the first time in a long while Fox Mulder was absolutely speechless. He had lain still and listened in silence as Victor told him in an emotionless voice all that had gone on between him and Jack. Mulder was glad Jack that had died, and happier still that at least Victor had gotten the satisfaction of doing the job himself, regaining a little self respect in the process, but Mulder knew that Jack had taken a part of Victor to the grave with him, and Victor would never recover it.

Ever.

The psychological repercussions of what Vic had been through would scar him for the rest of his days. No wonder the sex had seemed so rough and frenzied. It made a lot more sense to Mulder now, even though he already understood some of the reasons why.

Victor's ability to maintain control over his emotions amazed Mulder. He had choked out every sordid detail, and though his eyes remained glassy throughout, Victor never allowed himself to shed one single tear. His voice did crack and waver when he had gotten to the part about being forced to give Jack a blow-job, but after a quick intake of breath he had been able to go on as calmly and evenly as before. However, Victor's icy, almost indifferent attitude did not surprise Mulder. He recognized that this was the side of his lover that was probably seen by most people; and that he was one of the few lucky enough ever to see Vic's warm, funny and romantic side. Knowing he had been allowed into the inner nucleus that was the true Victor Mansfield made Mulder feel privileged.

When Victor had finished recounting his horrible experience, Mulder reached over and pulled him against his chest. He held on tightly and murmured into the soft brown hair, "I'm glad he's dead, Victor and thankful that you're still alive. I know you'll never truly forget what happened, but someday, I promise, you will get over it. It might take awhile, but you will get over it."

Victor nodded his head but made no reply. He felt relieved that telling his lover everything seemed the right thing to do, but if Mulder thought that he was ever going to tell another living soul what had really happened, then he was sorely mistaken. Victor knew that Mulder would never betray his trust by telling others what hed recounted tonight. He was confident that even if his partners demanded the truth from Mulder, without his explicit permission, the man still would not tell. Victor had no desire to let his partners know all the gory details; in fact, he believed that the less they knew about the whole ordeal, the better. The only thing that mattered was that Mulder knew and understood him.

Throwing his arm over Mulder's chest, Vic closed his eyes. He didn't want to talk about it anymore; he only wanted to rest. His back was aching and so was his head. "Mmm, you mind if I fall asleep like this?" mumbled Vic, already halfway there."

Mulder rubbed the outer rim of Victor's ear gently; it was really the only piece of skin readily available on Vic's body that did not have a bruise, bite mark or welt. "No, you mind if I fall asleep with you?" he asked, in an equally drowsy voice.

Victor planted a kiss in the hollow of Mulder's chest. "No. This feels good. Stay." Victor was immediately sound asleep.

Closing his eyes, Mulder followed suit. His last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep were about how he wished he could make Victor's inner turmoil go away, but knowing, with great regret, that ultimately only Victor could heal himself.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The late afternoon sun slowly disappeared. Its warm rays spilled through the open bedroom window and delicately kissed the bare skin of the two men who were intertwined in each other. They slept peacefully in the big bed that dominated the small room; both men were worn out, though each for different reasons.

Normally, Victor was a very light sleeper something it was especially important to be in his line of business; one could never be too sure who was going to come through the front door unannounced. But the aftermath of the last few days and nights, combined with the effects of a sedative he had taken the night before worked against him. His senses were dulled and his body, sorer than he cared to admit, was pulled into a much-needed, deep slumber.

Beside him, Mulder slept just as deeply.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

LiAnn knocked on the front door to Victor's apartment, and after several minutes without an answer, she became quite worried for her former lover's condition, so she pulled out her own personal key to the agents apartment and unlocked the door quietly, taking care to shut it as gently as she could behind her. LiAnn thought the apartment had a eerie stillness about it; the heavy silence gave her the creeps. She knew Victor should have been home. Normally, she would have seen him flaked out on the couch, resting, while watching a hockey game. Unfortunately, since nothing that had happened to Victor in the last 72 hours had been normal, she wasn't completely surprised when she didn't find him on the couch.

LiAnn couldn't stop herself from looking around for traces of Mulder, but when she didn't find anything that might have belonged to him, she just assumed that he must have gone home already. It was then that she noticed that Victor's bedroom door was closed tight.

He must still be sleeping.

She didn't want to disturb Victor, but she did want to see him, so she thought she'd just sneak a peek in on him to make sure he was okay, figuring that she could talk to him about their feelings for each other later, when he was up and about once more.

LiAnn was totally sincere about the way she felt for Victor, and she desperately wanted him to take her suggestion that they get back together seriously, which was why she was willing to hold things off for a little while more, or at least until he was fully awake and alert. She padded down the hall quietly, as only a true thief could, softly pushing the door open and then gasped loudly, shocked by what she saw. Releasing the doorknob unconsciously, she let the door swing all the way open. The sound of her loud gasp and the door hitting the wall forced Victor out of his sleep. He was up and out of the bed so quickly that she didn't even see him grab his gun. Before she knew it, he had somersaulted out of his warm bed and landed on his knees on the floor directly in front of her, his automatic aimed dead on for her heart.

It took a couple of seconds for Victor to blink away the sleep that blurred his vision and focus on the trespasser. Comprehension of who the intruder was finally registered on him. "LiAnn? What the hell are you doing here?!" He blurted, startled.

Oh shit I'm naked! realized Victor, slightly embarrassed now.

Before he could ask LiAnn to leave the bedroom, she covered her mouth with one hand and stammered, "Oh my god! Victor... I'm sorry...I ...just..." Unable to finish, she simply whirled around and ran back down the hall the way she had come. Sighing heavily, Victor stood up and put his gun away. He didn't hear the sound of the front door slamming shut so he assumed that LiAnn was probably waiting for him to come out and explain things to her. He ran his hands over his hair, sighed and began hunting for his clothing.

Why is she here in the first place? How did she get in? Boy, does she ever have a lot of explaining to do to!

As Victor tugged on his jeans he looked over at Mulder, whom he thought was still asleep, and discovered that the man was in fact awake and lying on his side with one hand propped up under his head, brown hair sticking out in every direction, grinning up at his lover like the Cheshire cat.

Mulder had woken up the second Victor had thrown back the covers and popped out of bed but he had decided to play safe and pretend to be asleep, at least until LiAnn was out of the room. Whispering softly he asked Victor, "What's she doing here? Should I leave?"

"No, you stay. I don't know what she's doing here but I plan to find out. I'll be back after I talk to her. I think I'll take her to the coffee shop. Want me to bring back anything while I'm out?" whispered Victor back. He had finished dressing and was now running a comb through his short hair.

Mulder shook his head no, while mumbling sleepily, "Mmm no thanks." He beckoned to his lover, enticing him back over to the bed, then he wrapped his arms around Vic, who was leaning over him, and kissed him deeply, before rolling over and mumbling, "See ya."

Victor slapped Mulder's perfectly rounded left butt cheek. It was a playful gesture but the slap was still hard enough to leave a hand print. He pulled the quilt up to Mulder's chin and tucked it underneath, saying a quiet "Goodbye" before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself.

LiAnn was standing outside on the veranda, face toward the early morning sun, trying to figure out how she was going to say what she had been wanting to say to Vic for the past few days. Seeing him in bed, naked and wrapped around that FBI Agent, had upset her more than shed believed possible. Victor had looked so peaceful in the few seconds before he had woken up startled and wide-eyed with momentary confusion.

Mac had already voiced his suspicions to her about what Victor and Mulder had been up to while the two of them had been stuck working in Greenland, but she hadn't really, truly believed it until now.

Now what do I do?

She heard footsteps approaching from behind and turned around to gaze at her former lover, more determined than ever to get him away from the unnatural hold that she believed Fox Mulder had over him. By the look on his face, she had a strong feeling that she had her work cut out for her.

"Come on, let's go to Starbucks," Vic suggested in a voice that sounded a lot calmer than he felt.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mulder had no sooner drifted off again than the sound of someone knocking at the front door had woken him up. He was tempted just to ignore the annoying disturbance, but then he decided that the bed was lonely without Victor anyway, so he got up and threw on his jeans, not bothering to do up the buttons. Answering the front door barefoot and shirtless, he was surprised to find Mac standing on the other side holding a tray of coffee from, ironically enough, Starbucks. Mulder pulled the door open all the way and swung his arm towards the living room, inviting Mac in without uttering a word. Mac complied darting his eyes around and searching for Victor as soon as he was across the threshold.

Mac was a bit thrown off at the sight of Mulder opening the door for him, especially since he had been told by the Director that Mulder's flight home was early this morning. He had wanted to see Victor alone so that they could talk; waiting intentionally until now before coming over just in case the FBI Agent had taken a little bit later flight. Seeing the man still there had instantly made all that planning pointless.

"Mulder, where's Victor?" Mac asked the heavy-lidded man before him. "You look like you just woke up or something."

Mulder resisted the urge to answer "or something" and settled instead for, "Victor's gone to the coffee shop with LiAnn. They needed to discuss uh...some stuff. And you did wake me up. It's only 9:30 in the morning." The agent smiled.

Shrugging his shoulders, Mac handed Mulder one of the mochas and then took the other for himself. He sat down on the love seat with no apparent intention of leaving.

I guess he's going to wait for Vic to come back supposed Mulder, although actually, Mac had decided on the spur of the moment, that perhaps he should take the opportunity to talk to Mulder since they were alone, and find out just exactly what his intentions towards Victor were.

Mulder dragged a kitchen chair across the rug and settled himself on it so that the back of the chair was in front of him. He peeled the seal off of the cup and took a sip. Smiling at Mac, he said pleasantly, "Mmm, that's good." Waiting for a second, he asked, "Okay Mac. So what's on your mind?"

"Well...I think it's my duty as Vic's best friend, not to mention his partner, to ask you just what your intentions are in regards to him." As soon as the words were out, Mac wished that he could take them back; they did not come out right at all.

'What your intentions are'...how lame is that?! I sound like a jealous lover! Shit. Mac shook his head to clear it, hoping that would help him think more clearly, and he could say what he really meant.

Mulder snorted and then replied sarcastically, "What do you mean? Like when are we getting married? Or if I get him pregnant will I support the baby?" He laughed at the absurdity of Mac's question, and his own answers. He felt like a high school boy being quizzed by an over-anxious father before taking out his virgin daughter. Mulder could see that Mac was concerned for his partner and no doubt Mac had a clue as to what was going on between them, but he couldn't help but feel a little insulted at Mac's opening question.

Mac tried breaking the ice again by smiling a small lopsided grin at the man across from him. He made another try, "Okay, that didn't quite come out right. It's not what I really meant, but, " he hesitated, finding it hard to verbalize what it was that he was thinking, " ...what I mean is, what happens to Victor when you go home? Are you a 'couple' or what? I would hate to see him get hurt by a long-distance relationship that didn't work out. He's been through a lot lately and it's not just with this whole Jack thing either. There's other stuff which you have no idea about. Bad stuff dealing with the time when he used to be a cop. That and family problems."

Mac paused and took a sip from his cup, wrinkling his nose slightly as he discovered that his mocha had turned from piping hot to lukewarm in a matter of minutes. He put the cup on the table and looked Mulder in the eyes. "Look, I have a rough idea of what's been going on between the two of you, but I don't know just how serious things are. I do think though, that if you really care about Victor, youll do the right thing and let him go now, before he gets too attached to you. I don't think he could take another personal crisis." Mac was playing the old If you love something set it free, angle and judging by the grim look on Mulder's face, it was working. Mac stood up, leaving his Styrofoam cup behind on the table. "Listen, I can't tell you - or Victor for that matter - what to do. But what I'm concerned about is what if, say, you continue seeing Victor for now and then later on you end up meeting someone else in D.C. So then you decide to break it off with Victor. Don't you think that will hurt him more in the long run, than if you were to call it quits now?"

He fell silent, letting the question remain unanswered, then after a beat, he continued, "And Agent Mulder, trust me when I tell you that if you end up hurting him more than you had to in the first place, you'll have me to deal with."

Without waiting for Mulder to answer him, Mac walked to the front door, but before leaving, he turned and called out pleasantly to the other man, "Have a good flight home."

Mac closed the door behind him and stood in the hallway for a moment. He was not proud of himself for planting the first seeds of doubt into Mulder's mind, but he was sure that in the end Victor would be better off. He knew better than anybody about the difficulties of long distance relationships; they never lasted. Besides, Mac felt Mulder was really only a temporary fling for Victor. He was certain that eventually the distance between the two lovers would be just too much for them to overcome, and when Victor was ready Mac was prepared to be there to help him get over everything that had happened to him, including Fox Mulder and their ill-fated, short lived romp between the sheets. Either way, Mac would be there when Victor needed him, just as hed been there for him when LiAnn had dumped him.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

You want to what?" Vic almost choked on his coffee at LiAnn's announcement. He was stupefied and couldn't believe that he had actually heard her correctly.

LiAnn sighed heavily and repeated, "I think we should try to work stuff out and get back together." Seeing the strange look on Vic's face, she hissed in a frustrated tone, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Victor, who had been frowning at LiAnn, answered bluntly, "Because, I don't believe you really want me back. I know you, LiAnn. You're jealous, that's all."

LiAnn shook her head, but before she could say anything in her own defence, Victor continued in a harsher tone of voice than he had intended, "You broke up with me, remember? You were the one who said you weren't ready for a full-time commitment. That 'maybe marriage isn't for me', I believe were your exact words. You broke off our engagement just because of some bad experience you had working with Mac on a case where you guys had to pretend to be married. Do you wanna know how that made me feel? I'll tell you how: I was crushed, and I felt rejected, and I thought that there must be really something wrong with me for a beautiful, intelligent girl like you not to want me. That's how I felt!" Victor was more than a little surprised to find out how bitter he still felt over the whole experience, even though a good long time had already passed. "It took me forever to get over it, and an even longer time to figure out just who I really was and what I wanted." He took a sip of his mocha, calming himself before meeting LiAnn's deep brown eyes.

He continued in a softer, more patient tone. "But I finally did get over it and I finally got over you, LiAnn." He shook his head sadly. "I know you well enough to see that the only reason you want me back is because you can't deal with the fact that I might be falling for someone else. You did the same thing when you thought Ivy and I were getting back together again. And then when Mac was going to get married to that arms dealer," Victor ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his coffee mug, tilting his head sideways, and shook it gently while smiling ruefully at his former lover. "...you tried the same thing with him. But when it looked like he might go back to you afterwards, you pulled away and came up with the same excuses for why it wouldn't work between you two. I know that if we got back together again you would only find a way to call it off when it came time to talk marriage."

Victor looked into LiAnn's blank face and realized that she hadnt known that he and Mac confided in each other on such issues, frequently. She was, in fact, astonished that Mac had told Vic so much.

"Mac and I talk, LiAnn; we always have, even when we weren't the best of friends." Victor stopped and swallowed up the last of the contents in his cup. His pause in speech gave LiAnn the entrance she was looking for.

She shook her head vehemently and denied the truth of his words. "No! That's not true, Vic, it's not the same anymore. I really want us to get back together because I do care about you. You have to believe that!"

"Oh, I know you believe that, but truthfully? I don't think you really want either one of us, LiAnn. You don't want us but at the same time you don't want anyone else to have us. Let's face it; you liked it when Mac and I fought over you. It was a great boost to your ego. I know that you were never really thrilled about our becoming friends, especially since we stopped bickering over you and started doing stuff without you. You hated it." Victor knew he was hurting LiAnn by saying these things to her, but he felt that it was time for him to get everything out in the open. He was hopeful that once they had dealt with this issue and made sure it was closed, that then they would be able to put this conversation and everything else from the past behind them and move on.

"LiAnn," Victor held her small hand between his two large ones, "...there are things about myself that I am just discovering. Things that I want to do and need to try, and none of these things involve you. They can't... involve you anymore. I'm sorry. You're my partner and a good friend and I will always care about you and love you..." LiAnn's eyes had become glassy, and Victor's heart ached a little as he watched a large tear spill out over the rim and slide down her cheek, "...but I just don't love you in that way anymore."

Patting her hand gently, Vic got up. He leaned over, pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead and whispered, "I'm sorry," before turning around and leaving the coffee shop. He felt like the biggest jerk in the world and was full of regret all the way home, wishing things could have been different for LiAnns sake, that he could have said yes to her and picked up where theyd left off, but he couldn't lie to himself any more. He truly believed that if he and LiAnn did get back together, that it would hurt Mac even more, and that was something Victor didn't want to do. He knew that Mac still had feelings for LiAnn even though she had trashed him too, but rivalry with Mac had been exchanged for camaraderie. Victor felt good about where he and Mac were at in their relationship. In Mac, he had found the best friend that he hadnt had before - a friend to whom he could complain or with whom he could sit around in companionable silence.

It had taken a long time for him and Mac to 'click', but once their friendship had become based on other factors than their mutual former fianc, it took off. Victor didn't have a lot of friends. He intended on keeping the one he did have.

Unlocking the door to his apartment, Vic went inside to see Mulder sitting on the love seat with a glass of orange juice in his hand. The look on his lover's face warned Victor that something was up. Something bad. Mulder raised his eyes and said unsmiling and in an unemotional voice, "Victor, we need to talk."

"Wow, that sounds really serious," Victor said lightly. Mulder's response was a grim face.

The broad smile that Victor had been wearing slowly dissolved when he realized that Mulder was serious. He stuck his keys in the pocket of his well-worn leather jacket before slipping it on the coat rack that stood near the door. He was stalling; whatever it was his lover wanted to say to him, it couldn't be good. At last, when he could no longer delay, he ceased his fiddling and turned and said, "Ok, so lay it on me."

Mulder sighed inwardly. "Sit down, Victor." Mulder patted the empty space next to him on the love seat, indicating exactly where he wanted Vic to sit.

Victor's eyes opened wide and held a questioning look in them. "Jesus, it must be bad if you want me to sit down," he joked weakly. He could feel his stomach dropping like a stone in water. Chewing on his lower lip for comfort, he sank down next to Mulder and waited expectantly, trying to maintain a blank face.

"Victor," Mulder began. He raised his right hand and ran the backs of his fingers down the younger man's cheek caressing him softly, searing into his mind the face of the only person that had ever made him feel more than ordinary lust.

Vic blinked his eyes and then left them closed. Mulder stopped what he was doing and dropped his hand.

"Victor, I don't think we should hold each other to a commitment. I mean, realistically speaking, it would be impractical for us to maintain a monogamous relationship. The miles between us makes it virtually impossible. We can still get together every now and then, maybe when our paths cross; but to say that we will not see other people, especially with the distance between us" He broke off the rest of his well-rehearsed speech. His voice had cracked slightly though he was doing his damnedest to try to hold his emotions in check. He couldn't go on. The look on his love's face broke his heart. Victor's lower lip had dropped slightly and his features held an expression that was a combination between pain and sorrow. The purple-green bruise on Victor's face stood out and managed to further accentuate his sadness. Mulder had never seen Victor look like this before during their short and passionate romance.

Victor tried to make his face remain placid, but he was wringing his hands together. The gesture, combined with the look in his eyes, were the only real indications as to what he was really feeling. "It's me isn't it?" He asked of his lover in a soft husky voice which in the past Mulder had often thought of as sexy, although now, it just made Mulder feel worse than he already had. "No. Victor that's not it at all."

Mac, you are such a shithead for making me do this! he thought miserably as he reached for Victor's hand. Mulder wanted to hold on to Victor's hand to reassure the other man but Victor pulled his hands away from Mulder before he could touch him and leapt up to a standing position.

Backing away a few steps he looked at Mulder and insisted, It is me. Don't lie, Fox, I can tell. It's because of that whole 'Jack' thing isn't it? The fact that I couldn't even look after myself, right? You think I'm a coward...that I'm weak. You don't even have to say it, Mulder. It's written all over your face. "I disgust you, I shoulda let Jack kill me, but I was too afraid to die. Couldn't even be a man when it came to death." Victor finished faintly.

He felt tears starting to form in his eyes, blurring his vision. Shit. Victor turned his back to Mulder and knuckled away the shameful drops that would betray to Mulder what he was really feeling deep down inside. What's wrong with me? Why can't I ever hang onto a lover? He looks at me differently now. No matter what he says, on the inside I know he's probably looking at me and thinking that I'm weak because a man stuck his cock down my throat and I did nothing to stop it! But who can blame him? I wouldn't want me either.

Even though his back was turned, Victor's self-doubt was still evident to the other man. Mulder jumped up and put his hand on Victor's shoulder, "Vic, don't ever say that, not ever! You are not better off dead. Look at me. Please," he implored.

Coming to a decision, Victor dropped his hands to his sides and turned around to face the other man. With a determined look in his eyes and a firm set to his mouth, Victor stated in a voice that was laced with faked calm and sensibility, in hopes that Mulder would not be able to tell the difference, "Look, I understand really. Hey, no hard feelings, okay? How long 'til you have to go? Maybe we can go out and get a bite to eat before your plane takes off?" Victor smiled with false casualness. "For old times sake, eh?"

Neither the false smile nor Victor's brave words could fool Mulder in the least. He could see that even though Vic was verbally saying one thing, his body language was saying something else entirely. Mulder had always believed that body language was the silent messenger which never lies. He hadn't thought for one second that Victor could have suddenly become 'okay' with things, when no more than two minutes ago he had been calling himself down, blaming himself instead of the facts for the reason why a steady relationship would be impossible between them. Mulder wisely chose to go with his instincts and said, "Look, why don't you sit down. I want to talk about this."

Victor reluctantly allowed Mulder to lead him back to the love seat and pull him down next to him.

"Listen to me. I don't think you're a coward or a weakling or anything like that. Far from it. I know that you think those things about yourself but you really shouldn't, Vic, because they're not true. Jack drugged you and then tied you up. How were you supposed to defend yourself when the fight wasn't fair to begin with?"

Victor, remaining silent, only shrugged in a self-deprecating manner.

Mulder held Vic's hand as he had tried to do earlier and continued on, "The real reason why I don't think we should see only each other is because of the distance between us. You hear me? Nothing more. Hell I'm usually so busy chasing my personal agenda that I don't have time for anyone or anything else. But with you, who knows? Your life is a lot less complicated than mine, or at least it used to be. You might end up finding someone up here who catches your eye..."

Victor grimaced slightly and interrupted with a mumbled, "Yeah right. I strike out more than a minor league ball player."

Mulder ignored the comment. "As I was saying, you might find someone and decide you want to be with him or her. So why should a long distance fling prevent you from being with someone who could potentially be the person you spend the rest of your life with? We both know that I'm not that guy, considering where I live and what I do for a living. I'm too obsessed with my work to put in the time it takes to have a successful relationship, " he added ruefully, secretly wishing that the circumstances could have been different.

He then spent the next fifteen minutes further persuading Vic that Mulder's decision that they should not commit to a long distance romance wasn't his fault; that it was simply the hand theyd been dealt and therefore they had no choice but to play the cards. When Mulder was finally done talking, he sat back and waited for Vic to speak, hoping that what he had said had made some sense to Victor, and that he would see the truth in his words.

Fortunately, Victor did understand everything that Mulder had said to him. Deep down, he knew that the agent was right. Vic could see that they were essentially from two different worlds, even if their jobs were similar in nature. He realized that it was fate that had brought them together in the first place, and fate again that had brought Mulder back to Canada seeking to aid in the search and rescue. Despite the fact that the feelings they had for each other were very real, and ran deep; and that the sex they'd had was mind-blowing. Victor knew that to try to hang onto anything more permanent would only be a pipe dream. No matter what or how they felt about each other, time and distance would eventually work against them and in the end, the results would still be the same. They'd only end up going their own separate ways.

No, this is the best solution by far, Victor admitted to himself. Even though it did not lessen the hurt, he admired Mulder for having the guts to say so first.

"You're a braver man than me, G-man. I don't know if I could have said the same to you."

Mulder let out a breath he didn't even realize he had been holding.

I guess Mac was right after all.

"Victor, believe me when I say you're braver than you know. Why won't you give yourself credit for saving your own life? You fought Jack Douglas with only your wits and your bare hands. It takes a strong kind of gladiator to do that." Mulder needing to lighten the mood, grinned at the image of Victor wearing gladiator garb.

But Victor only sighed softly and asked, "So when do you leave?"

"I've got to be at the airport in about two hours," Mulder replied, glancing at his watch. Then he reached up with both of his hands and cupped Victor's face gently, pulling the melancholy man toward him. Their lips met and Mulder kissed Victor more thoroughly than he had ever done.

Breaking the seal of their passion, Victor leaned back and grinned devilishly while looking up at Mulder through a dark fringe of lashes. He teased in a throaty rasp, "Gladiator, eh? Is that some sort of a fantasy of yours?"

Laughing, Mulder raised his eyebrows and answered honestly, "Ohhh yeah."

"Well then, let's go to the bedroom and I'll show you my Spartacus impersonation." Victor stood and pulled Mulder up after him. He reached for the remote control to his CD player and pressed the "on" button. They walked down the hall to the sounds of 'House of the Rising Sun' playing in the background behind them, as if it was escorting them to the bedroom. Mulder was thinking as he followed the other man that he would never be able to hear another Animals song without thinking of Victor Mansfield.

The men started their lovemaking with the very seductive act of undressing each other. Gently caressing and touching each other in all the sensitive spots, taking in and giving out all the stimuli they could. Both men knowing full well that this was likely the last time they would make love to each other.

Victor pushed Mulder backwards and covered him from head to toe with wet kisses, and when he had worked his way back up to the top Victor paused to stare deeply into Mulder's eyes, proclaiming emotionally to the man beneath him, "I love you, Fox Mulder. You changed my life. You woke me up out of a deep sleep I didn't even know I was in."

Mulder, returning Victor's gaze just as intently confessed, "I love you too, Victor, and I always will, no matter what happens to us or where we end up. I want you to know," Mulder hesitated for just a second. "That I've never ever told another person that I love them."

Flipping Victor over so that he was now beneath him, Mulder gave his lips a lecherous lick and then kissed Vic with an eager fervour, saying into the agent's mouth, "Only you, Victor. You're the only one I've ever said those words to." Then, without any more spoken language, Mulder went on to show Victor exactly how much he loved him and how much was going to miss him.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Part 4

"Oh God Victor!" Mulder cried out as he came inside his lover, thrusting his hips a few times more to let his orgasm finish completely. He waited for himself to go slightly soft before pulling out and laying his sweaty body partially on top of Victor, who was panting harshly.

Mulder let his fingertips play idly over Vic's smooth chest while shutting his eyes and listening to the song that was coming from the CD player in the living room. Victor had put the 'Best of the Animals' CD on when he and Mulder had entered the bedroom, and now the last song on it, 'Bring it on home to me' was playing in the background as an accompaniment to the aftermath of their love making.

Eric Burdon was singing woefully:

If you ever change your mind About leavin, leavin me behind Ohh-Ohh bring it to me bring your sweet Lovin' bring it on home to me. Ohh yeahh.

Seems fitting.

Mulder thought as he wrapped his lips around Vic's swollen, tender and apparently sensitive nipple and sucked on it lightly, running his tongue over the light brown nub. "We should go shower then get a bite to eat," he suggested. "I'm starved! I haven't eaten all day."

"Yeah," Victor agreed although neither man made a motion to move. Victor closed his eyes as he sang the last verse of the song inside of his head:

You know I'll always be your slave.
'Till I'm dead and buried in my grave.
Ohhh bring it to me..
bring your sweet lovin'..
bring it on home to me,
Yeahh-Yeahh.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Victor's Apartment 3:00 AM.

Victor downed another shot of the Jack Daniels that he had bought on his way home from dropping Mulder off at the airport. He had felt shitty; shitty as hell, and he had wanted to get smashed and fall into the abyss of drunken oblivion. He had been sitting alone in the dark for hours now, drinking and thinking.

And still he had no answers to all the questions that he had been asking himself since the second Mulder waved goodbye and walked through the automatic glass doors, doors that would take him to his plane-the plane that in turn would take the F.B.I. agent to his own corner of the world; so he could continue on with living his own compartmentalized life.

Victor knew they had done the right thing by calling it quits before either one of them could be hurt too deeply by an ill-fated fling, but knowing that still did not ease the pain of the parting. All night he had been thinking not only about Mulder but LiAnn too. However, he was still certain that with or without Mulder in the picture, he would never be able to make himself return to LiAnn.

That part of his life was over. Now, once again it was time to close another unsatisfactory chapter in his miserable existence and tie up all the loose threads left dangling from the brief affair between Mulder and himself. Only then could he move on and look ahead.

At some point during his drunken ruminations Victor realized that tying up the loose threads would definitely involve finding out where the Director had stashed the sex tapes that she had of him and Mulder. He needed to find and destroy them. He had to find a way to get back the secretly recorded videos that the Director had made of him and Mulder and the first time they had gotten together two weeks earlier.

Has it only been two weeks since we've met? Seems so much longer than that. God, it feels like I've known the man forever. Stop it, Mansfield. Concentrate on the tapes.

It wasn't fair to Fox; he had absolutely no idea that there were tapes of them-tapes with the potential to ruin both their careers. Tapes graphic enough in their contents that they would get Mulder fired should anyone in the FBI see them.

After much consideration Victor came to a decision and in slow motion reached for the phone. Pushing the second button on his speed dial, he waited and listened to the phone on the other end ring one, two, three times before being answered.

"Yeah," mumbled a sleep-addled voice.

"Mac?" Victor said hesitantly.

"Victor, is that you? What's wrong?" Mac sat up immediately and flicked on his bedside light, squinting against the brightness, his concern evident in his voice.

"Mac, can you come over? I know it's late but I need to talk to you right away." Victor spoke softly into the phone, suddenly suspicious that she may have tapped his phone as well.

"I'm on my way." Mac wondered briefly why Victor was speaking so quietly.

But before Mac could ask any more questions, Victor said, "See you in a few then," and hung up without saying goodbye.

Mac leaped out of bed and began to dress quickly.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac stood outside of Victor's building impatiently pushing the buzzer. He had driven like a mad man all the way over to his partner's apartment; he was more than a little anxious to see what was going on with him. For Victor to phone in the wee hours of the morning was already unusual in itself, but then to have him say cryptically that he needed to see Mac, was even more irregular.

He'd had a hard time concentrating while driving over, and his constant reminders to himself to stay calm did not work at all. Macs thoughts, full of visions of Victor in peril, kept getting away from him, and presently he was imagining the worst scenarios possible - maybe Victor was being held hostage again, or maybe he had hurt himself, perhaps on purpose and was now calling out to Mac for help.

Stop it! He isn't suicidal, for God's sake! Vic would never intentionally hurt himself. Or at least I hope he wouldn't

Three weeks ago Mac would have told anyone whod asked, that he knew his partner, Victor Mansfield, inside and out. But now, he really couldn't say for sure what Vic would - or would not - do. For one thing, hed never had the slightest idea that Victor was 'into' men. His partner had never given him any hint of such a preference.

I guess you really can't ever know a person completely

After frantically pushing the button marked 1602 once again and getting no answer, Mac's anxiety level climbed another notch.

Damn, why isn't he answering?

Fortunately his anxiety was relieved a moment later when Victor finally answered the summons, his even voice coming through the intercom slightly distorted, asking simply, "Mac, that you?"

"Who else did you invite over at this time of the night? Let me in, for Christ sakes, before I get mugged. Your neighbourhood is dangerous at this time of the night."

As soon as he heard the lock slide back, Mac flung open the double-wide glass doors and headed straight for the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached his destination in two minutes flat. He rapped once on Victor's closed door before twisting the knob and walking in without waiting for an invitation to enter.

Closing the door behind himself, Mac, out of breath, picked a small grain of sleep from the corner of his eye as he called out, "Vic, where are you?"

Victor popped up from between the love seat and coffee table and answered, "I'm here" He had been on his hands and knees examining the bottom of his love seat for 'bugs' that might have been hidden there. He stood up, wiping the palms of his hands down the back pockets of his blue jeans.

Confused, Mac asked, "Whatcha'' doin'?"

"Looking for surveillance devices. Who knows how many the Director may have planted and where?" replied Victor, nonchalant. "Want some coffee? You look half-asleep. Before you ask, yes, I have been drinking, and it was about a half a bottle of 'Jack'. So now I need to sober up so we can talk; that's why I'm brewing coffee at," he looked at his wristwatch, "3:30 in the morning." He gave Mac a wan smile and then without waiting for a reply went into the kitchen and poured them each a large mug of the dark brown liquid.

"Well I wasn't going to ask, but since you brought it up, I can tell that you've had a few. What's going on? Did the Director bug your place too? How come? Remember when I was going to get married? She bugged my bedroom and used a private conversation Id had against me. Shit, I thought she only did those things when she was looking for some good material to tame out-of-control agents, like me." Mac suddenly realized that he was rambling. "So, where's Mulder?" he asked, unable to deny his curiosity.

All day he had been dying to know what had happened after hed left Mulder, earlier that afternoon, but there was no way hed been going to phone Victor to find out. He was certain that his partner would eventually tell him what had happened. Now, judging by the fact that Victor had been getting drunk on Jack Daniels, Mac figured it was safe to assume that Mulder had had his 'talk' with Victor.

On the other hand, LiAnn had called him earlier that day to tell him about her own conversation with Vic. She had been all worked up, convinced that Mulder was "brainwashing" Victor, but when Mac had finally managed to wheedle the entire story out of her, all he could think of to say to her was a rather unsympathetic sounding, "Well I told you so, didn't I?" after which, LiAnn had ended the phone call by calling Mac, "a selfish prick," before hanging up on him. Hed never had a chance to explain that the 'I told you so' bit hadn't come out quite right, though by the time the inconsiderate and offending words had slipped out, hed known it was too late to take them back and substitute them for something she might want to hear.

As he had correctly predicted to LiAnn, there really was no way that Victor would want to take her back. Mac knew that Victor, being the intelligent guy that he was, usually learned his lesson the first time around. LiAnn had already kicked Vic in the balls - he would never give her another chance.

Presently, Victor was handing Mac a mug of coffee and saying, "Listen, I'll tell you everything in a few minutes. Just let me shower first so I can shake out the cobwebs. So far, I've swept every room except the living room. Could you finish checking it out for me while I shower? After that, I promise to let you in on what's going on."

Victor smiled up shyly at Mac, who in turn nodded his assent and mumbled, "yeah sure," more curious now than ever. Then Vic headed for the bathroom. Mac's eyes followed Victor's back as he walked toward it. He hadnt closed the door properly, and it ended up slightly ajar leaving a two-inch gap between the door and the doorjamb; from this angle Mac was able to see into the mirror over the sink, which reflected back to him the image of Victor as he undressed, his back toward Mac.

Unable to turn away, Mac exhaled lightly and his throat went dry as he caught a flash of one of Victor's long lean thighs, and a perfectly rounded, snow-white buttock. He watched as Victor bent over at the waist to crank on the water. Perfectly still, Mac looked on as Victor adjusted the water temperature, pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped into the steamy cubicle, unaware all the while that he was being watched.

Then the curtain swung closed, and Mac's view of his partner was gone, although he continued to stare dreamily into the mirror, thinking of the possibilities.

What a great ass.

Only when the mirror began to fog over, obscuring his view of the whole room, did he shake out of his daze.

What a great ass? Holy shit! What am I thinking? So I'm a voyeur now? Snap out of it, Ramsey!

Reluctantly, Mac tore his gaze away from the bathroom and was humiliated to discover that he was sporting a semi-erection.

Trying to regain some semblance of control, he set his mug down and began searching around the living room for listening devices or any other possible surveillance equipment that the Director might use, hoping the distraction would help him to forget the fact that he had been fantasizing about a man whom he knew didn't return the his feelings.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Twenty minutes later, Victor emerged from the misty bathroom feeling rejuvenated. The coffee and hot shower had helped him alleviate the effects of the alcohol. Padding quietly from the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel, he stopped by the living room to check on Mac's progress. Victor saw his partner on his hands and knees, engrossed in examining the spines of the books at the bottom row of his large black bookcase. Mac was so intent in his task that he didn't even notice Victor was standing there. He smiled easily at the sight before continuing down the hall to his bedroom to dress. Towelling off, Vic pulled on a large white T-shirt and light grey sweat pants, not bothering with socks or underwear. He quickly ran a comb through his hair before shutting off the light and going out to join his partner in the living room.

Mac's inspection of the book spines complete, he rose from his knees and dusted off his hands by brushing them against each other. Turning around, he was startled by Victor's presence.

"Oh, done already? Well I've checked the whole room and I couldn't find anything."

Great, thanks for doing that. I ran out of hot water actually so I had no choice, I was driven out. Besides, I needed more coffee." Victor grinned slightly and then hesitated, letting the silence spread out between them. In the shower he had known exactly what he wanted to say to Mac, but now that it was time to actually talk, the right words seemed to have evaporated like the steam from the shower.

Mac stared at Victor expectantly, waiting for him to make the first move, since it had been his phone call that had gotten him up and over to Vics apartment in the first place.

Might as well get it over with, Vic finally decided.

He walked over to the love seat, seating himself, then suggesting with a sweep of his arm that Mac join him. The two men turned to face one another while they talked and a small wave of sadness washed over Victor as he remembered being seated this same way not too long ago with another man, a man whom he was already missing immensely.

Pushing aside his longing, Victor cleared his throat and looking Mac straight in the eye, began. "Look, Mac, I'm sorry I made you come over here so late." He stopped and grinned when he realized what time it actually was. "Really I should say, so early in the morning, but I couldn't wait until we saw each other at the agency to talk to you."

Mac shrugged. "It's okay, I was only sleeping anyway."

His attempt at humour suddenly made Victor thankful that some people never change.

"What is it that it couldn't wait?" inquired Mac, whose curiosity level was in high gear now.

Victor held up his hand and shushed him. "If you'd let me finish without interrupting me, I'll tell you."

Mac nodded in exaggerated acquiescence. "By all means go on."

"Thanks," said Victor, with a hint of humour. "...I will. Okay. Well, I have something to tell you, and I think you should hear it from me first, before the Director or LiAnn get a hold of you. I'm not too sure how much you know, or what you've been told, but here's the thing, Fox Mulder and I were uh - involved . . . um . . .

Spit it out for Christ sakes! Victor chastised himself.

". . . romantically during the time when he first arrived here to work on a profile for a case with me."

There, I got it out thought Vic, relieved.

To his amazement, he did not see an expression of anything remotely close to shock, horror, or surprise on his partner's face. Unsure of what Mac was thinking, Victor asked, "You're not disturbed by that?"

"No. Actually I'm not." Knowing that he should elaborate further, Mac explained.

"When you were missing, I dropped by here to see if you might be home and in trouble. I. . . um . . . checked out the whole place. My investigative skills are pretty good, you know. I mean, I knew Mulder was staying here since no hotels were available. I walked through the apartment and I saw the towels in the bathroom, the glasses on the table and," Mac had the delicacy to cough lightly into his hand at this point, "The used Kleenex in the bedroom - and your bedroom, well, to be honest it really reeked of . . . um, sex."

Mac could barely say the word sex to Victor and apply it to him and Mulder. "Not to mention the fact that after we got you out of Jack's clutches and into the Agency's infirmary, the first coherent thing you did when you regained consciousness was to ask for him There was no need to elaborate on who 'him' was. "Well by then I managed to put two and two together and figure it out for myself." He finished.

Victor stared. So much for my big secret!

"I see." Was the only response he could think of. He fell silent for a moment before asking nervously, "We're still friends though, right?"

"Of course we are! Best friends. Who do you think I am? Do you think I'm the type of guy who would dump his friend just because he's gay? I'm not like that, Victor. You should know that." Mac had started off by sounding offended, but he softened his tone as he caught the reproachful look on Victor's face.

"I'm sorry, Mac. I shouldn't have doubted you. Not that you gave me any reason to in the first place. At least you're taking this a lot better than LiAnn did."

"Yeah well, first of all, I'm not LiAnn. Second of all, it's not like I was about to ask you to get back together with me or anything like that," jibed Mac.

"She told you about that, eh?" Victor was genuinely surprised that LiAnn had told Mac about his rejection of her since it had been a rather embarrassing moment for her.

"Oh yeah, she told me all right, and when I didn't give her the answer she was looking for she called me a selfish prick and then hung up on me."

Vic laughed. In a way, it was comforting to know LiAnn would never change. "Well if the idea of me and Mulder dancing beneath the sheets doesn't really shock you, maybe this will; the Director videotaped Mulder and I when we were - you know - together. She even showed me the tapes and told me that if I didn't start following her rules a little more closely she would show the tapes around." Victor was no longer smiling as his indignation built. "You know what I said to her when she threatened me?"

Mac, who had been listening to Victor's words intently, leaned forward and answered simply, "No, what?"

"I told her that she could show those tapes to whoever the hell she wanted, and that I quit. Oh man, Mac, you should have seen me. I was shouting at her about how I pay my own way, that this was my apartment and she had no right to do what she did."

Mac had spoken the words, "Wow, that's pretty ballsy," during Vic's tirade, but the other man was so involved in his own harangue that he didn't even hear him.

Victor went on. "After I was finished yelling, I did try to walk out. You won't believe what happened next. That old bitch pulled a gun on me! Can you believe it?!"

Mac nodded, he too, had a previous experience where the Director had pulled a gun on him.

"Well anyway, she wouldn't even allow me the dignity of quitting on my own terms. Instead, she told me that she wouldn't show the tapes to anyone in the agency, but that she would send them to Fox's boss instead so he'd get fired."

"Wow, what a bitch!" Mac exclaimed in support.

"You know what the worst thing about this whole mess is?" Victor asked Mac, who shook his head in response. "The worst thing is that Mulder doesn't even know he was recorded; I never told him. It was a set-up, Mac. A set-up from the very beginning, and I walked right into it with my stupid eyes wide open."

He hung his head and rubbed his hand over his forehead. After a second of silence between the two, he sighed heavily and continued. "She knew ahead of time that Mulder had a former partner who looked just like me, and she also knew that Mulder had a thing for that partner. She figured out stuff about me that I didn't even know or understand about myself. She set the stage and got us to perform like puppets on strings for the cameras. We made it easy for her. The case profile on Jack was the just catalyst for getting us together in the first place. Mac," Victor's eyes remained downcast as he said the next words, "I need you to help me. I need you to help me find those tapes so I can steal them. I need to destroy them. Once I do that, then maybe, just maybe, I can put this whole thing with Mulder behind me and move on."

Yessss! Mulder left, Mac couldn't help thinking, selfishly.

He reached forward and rested his large hand on Victor's shoulder, squeezing lightly while he asked. "So it's over between you and Mulder?"

The effect Mac's hand on Victor's shoulder had, was electrical.

With visions of Jack and what he had done still fresh in his thoughts, Victor snapped his head up and glared at Mac, leaping up from the small couch and backing away.

Mac stared at the older man, stunned. He had no idea what he had done wrong.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Victor was demanding angrily, "Why did you grab me like that?!"

"Vic? What's wrong? What did I do? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to grab" Mac's voice trailed off, confused. He had thought that he was just laying a comforting hand on Victor's shoulder, the way he'd done many times before. Not once had Victor gotten worked up over it like he was doing now.

Suddenly, realizing the big mistake that he had just made, Victor tried smiling to cover up the emotions that he was really feeling. "I'm okay. It's okay," he lied. "Sorry to go all ballistic on you, partner. You didn't do anything wrong. It's just that that whole"

Damn tears! Not again!

Victor fought the threatening onslaught. In order for him to finish what he had been saying to Mac, he had to turn around so that his back was toward the younger man. He didn't want his partner to see anything that might be revealed on his face.

"That whole Jack thing. Sorry. I really can't stand being touched when I'm off guard like that." He gulped in some air, taking a few deep breaths, and only when he had his emotions firmly under control again did he turn back around to face Mac. Vic smiled again and intoned humourlessly, "Being chained to a wall and force-fed drugs will do that to you."

He was trying to be careful not to make any mention of the real reasons why he didn't like to be touched when he was unaware, he certainly didn't want Mac to draw any of the obvious conclusions.

"Come back and sit down, Victor. I won't touch you again. I promise."

Shit what really happened in that basement? thought Mac, moving over to his side of the couch so that Victor would have plenty of space.

The gallant gesture did not go unnoticed by Victor, but he didn't comment on it; he couldn't. He felt terrible for jumping all over Mac just for touching him innocently, but he couldn't help himself. The psychological wounds Jack had left on him were still too recent; his mind hadn't even formed scabs over them yet.

He stared resolutely down at the rug. "To answer your question, yes, Mulder and I are through. We decided that it just wouldn't work out. There's too much going against us, but I don't want to talk about Mulder right now, or Jack for that matter. What I really want to talk about is how we can get those tapes back."

Victor ran his fingers through his hair. He felt defeated, and whispering in a dejected voice, he said, "My life's floundering in the toilet right now, Mac. I wouldn't have wished this last week on even my worst enemy. You know, there was a time, during the time Jack had me that I actually thought the Director was behind the whole thing? It wasn't until Jack stuck that needle in my arm and pumped me full of heroin that I fully realized that this guy was for real and working alone." Victor's eyes remained on the rug beneath his feet. He didn't trust himself to look up at Mac. He was afraid to betray too much of himself to his partner.

"Mac, I need to get those tapes back," he said, then he added, so softly that Mac almost didn't hear, "I need to get 'myself' back."

When Victor finally did look up, his eyes were full of sadness and were shiny with unshed tears. "Will you help me, Mac?" implored Victor. "Will you help me get my self-respect back?"

Mac knew his answer to the question even before Victor had asked it. He had, after all, vowed to himself privately that he would always be there for Victor.

"Don't worry, Vic; I'll help. We'll figure out a way to get those tapes back."

I'll do you anything you want, Victor. Anything at all.

LiAnn entered the large, empty meeting room. She had intentionally arrived early for the conference with the Director. The meeting would, no doubt, be about a new assignment for her and the 'boys'. LiAnn did not want to be stuck sitting in between the guys; the mere thought of her being trapped between her two partners for an hour repulsed her. She was fed up with them both, still pissed off at them from the day before. She still had not gotten over the fact that she had been handed a whammy by both of her best friends on the same day, first by Victor, and then by Mac. When Victor had turned down her proposal to get back together, it had hurt her beyond belief, and then, when she had phoned Mac in search of some solace and a little understanding, he had given her the cold shoulder instead of comforting words. Shed felt slighted by his perspective; his lack of interest in her tale of woe had been more than she could bear. In her mind, Mac had thrown salt into the wounds that Vic had flayed open, so this morning both of them were assholes as far as she was concerned.

Tomorrow, she thought, I'll think about forgiving both of them. but today she planned to make them pay for their previous cruelties, whether intentional or not. LiAnn was seated, reading through some sort of a case file when Mac arrived for the meeting.

"Good morning," He chirped cheerily, as he settled himself into the middle chair. "So who are you trying to avoid, me or Vic?" he needled, chuckling softly when LiAnn only responded by telling him to go to hell. Mac enjoyed teasing LiAnn, even though today she didn't seem to want any part of his good mood. The increase in her annoyance level was really the fun part about bugging her, and Mac could not resist giving her a hard time.

Right about the time when LiAnn was busy telling Mac to, "fuck off," Vic pushed open the glass doors. He was the last agent to show for the early morning meeting. Walking through the doors, he greeted both of his partners with a perfunctory, grumbled, "Morning," because, in addition to not having had enough sleep the night before, he had a low grade hangover on top of the sleep deprivation.

Mac's eyes followed his partner's entrance, all the way through the room until Victor sat down next to him, in the only unoccupied chair.

Pulling out his chair, Victor noticed that Mac sat in the middle, not LiAnn as she usually did. He guessed that she was probably trying to make some sort of silent statement to him.

Don't care. Or at least not this morning.

He dropped himself carelessly into his chair and plucked off the sunglasses he had been wearing, tucking them away into his shirt pocket. Victor gave Mac a long, knowing glance before pulling his chair forward, so that it was close enough to the table for him to lean over and rest his head on crossed forearms. With his eyes turned down towards the table, he shut them, trying to relieve some of the ache that was pulsing behind them; secretly wishing that he had eaten more than just two Tylenol with his morning coffee for breakfast.

As he rested, Victor ran through his head all the possible locations where the Director might have hidden the tapes of Mulder and him. He figured she would want the incriminating material close to hand, so the most logical place to start searching would be her personal office, and then, if it didnt turn up in the agency then he would try her apartment, wherever that was. He had never been there before, but he knew LiAnn had.

Hmm, I wonder which one of us does she hate less today. Mac or me? Or rather, which one of us would have the balls to ask her where the Director lives?

Victor's body relaxed against the table as he continued to run various possibilities through his fatigued brain.

LiAnn had only given Victor's entrance a quick sideways glance before turning back to the file that had her so seemingly engrossed. She had not bothered to acknowledge Victor's curt greeting at all as she shook her papers noisily. Instead, she turned her chair away from the men so that her back was towards them.

Mac stared at the back of her chair for a few seconds, but knowing LiAnn as well as he did, he realized that if he tried to make up with her now, the only result that would come out of the endeavour, would be a black eye or worse for him.

I'll just buy her a Cappuccino later on today. Maybe that'll help

For all his fooling around, Mac knew LiAnn better than anyone else. He usually- knew what to say to assuage her feelings and when to say it. Now was definitely not the right time try and make up with her. He turned back toward Victor and pulled his chair up to the table. Leaning in close and without really thinking of what he was about to do, Mac placed his hand on Victor's shoulder and whispered, "Are you ok?"

Mac instantly felt the other man's shoulder tighten up, as if he was cringing. With the memory of Victor's earlier display of startling anger at being touched racing across his mind, Mac quickly removed his hand. He truly felt sorry for his partner, realizing that Vic must've been so mentally traumatized by his experience with Jack that he was now no longer able to bear being touched, even in a gesture of friendship.

"No, I'm all right," replied Vic in hushed tones, feeling guilty for flinching under Mac's hand. He was not only answering Mac's spoken question but he also wanted to convey to his friend that touching him was okay. "It's just that I've got an open welt where your hand was. That's why I bunched up like that," he explained, even though it was only half true. Both men were sitting so close together that Mac's forehead was touching Victor's temple. "Mac, after this meeting we should go somewhere and talk about what we're gonna do...."

"Well, well, well. What's the big secret, boys?" The Director's voice suddenly interrupted their huddled conversation. The two of them were so intent on their own hushed discussion that they hadn't even heard her walk up to stand behind them. The unexpected question startled them; they snapped their heads to attention, scrambling to sit up straight.

Macs cheeks immediately flared red, feeling a sudden, brief pang of embarrassment for enjoying his proximity to Victor. He felt as if he had just been caught peeking at his father's playboy magazine or something. He continued to face forward, his head turned away from the Director while he waited for the redness to leave his cheeks. Victor, on the other hand, turned to glance at the Director with sleep-weary eyes, before turning back and fishing his sunglasses from his pocket, putting them back on to cover his bruised face and eyes from her view.

"No secret." Victor lied in a calm voice. "We're just discussing how we're going to have to wrap-up the Jack Douglas file today. Actually, Mac and I need more time to take of things, maybe a couple of hours this morning, if you can spare them."

He looked over at LiAnn, who had turned her chair back towards the front and was now glaring intensely at him as she realized that he had only mentioned Mac and himself, thereby excluding her from the wrap-up phase of the investigation. Sighing, Victor looked away from her and concentrated his gaze to the front.

"Wait a minute! There's no way you two are going to unload whatever assignment we're supposed to get today on me. I am not going to work alone again!" LiAnn exclaimed angrily.

"Well, since you weren't there at the scene when Mac and Mulder found me half-dead, you can't very well write a report with your version of what happened, now can you?" Victor shot back. He knew his tone was sharp, but he was tired and impatient with her childish antics.

LiAnn opened her mouth to retort, but the Director stopped her by saying, "Now, now, no fighting in the sandbox, boys and girl. He's right, LiAnn. The Agency really does need Victor's report on his account of what took place, backed up by Mac's version of events. Why don't you start on some of the legwork on the new assignment today, and then, when Mac and Vic are done with their reports, they'll join you."

LiAnn, in response, only glared daggers at her superior. Unfazed by the dirty look, the Director shrugged her shoulders and took out three files from the top drawer of her cabinet. She handed them to the three agents and went on to brief them before they left to work on their individual assignments.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac pushed away his half-empty plate of fries and sipped his Heineken. He watched Victor from under veiled lashes; he had been watching the other man all morning. For some reason, Mac could not stop looking at Victor and the bruises around his eyes. He felt a flash of anger each time he looked. He was still upset at himself for not being there to protect his partner from Jack's clutches. He knew that there was nothing he could do about that, but he was determined to protect Victor from the Director's underhanded actions, as though that would somehow make up for failing Vic when it had really mattered.

Clearing his throat, Mac questioned, "So where do you want to start?"

Victor, who wasn't really hungry at all, stopped spreading his food around the plate with his fork and looked up. He had not quite caught what Mac said because he had been too engrossed in his thoughts of Mulder. He was wondering where Fox might be, and what he might be doing now. Mac's voice broke his reverie.

"Hmm? What?" he asked, clearing his throat and trying again, "Wh-what did you say?"

It was obvious to Mac that Victor's mind was on other things, and he had a suspicion what those other things might be. He guessed at first that Vic was probably thinking of Jack again, but then, upon seeing the look on his face--a faraway, sorrowful expressionhe decided that Vic was most likely thinking about Mulder. A wave of longing rolled over Mac, but he pushed the feelings aside and tried again, "I said, where do you want to start? Have you thought about it?"

"Maybe we should go to the records room to dictate our accounts of what happened first. Nathan can type them up and log them in for us. That way, we can get the report over and done with." Vic replied.

"Yeah, he'll type yours up for you, but he won't for me," Mac lamented, wondering not for the first time why he bothered working at a place where all the people seemed to hate him.

"Nah, I'm sure if I ask nicely, he'll do them both for us. Trust me on this. He thinks I'm a part of some group he calls the upper Illuminati, or something like that." Vic pushed his plate aside and took a sip of his beer.

"After that we'll ask Nathan about the Director's office - whether or not she has a secret hiding place or a safe. While we're at it, we should also talk to him about the agency; find out about security, spying devicesthose types of things. If we end up having to break into the Director's office I want to be prepared for anything and everything. I think Nathan's the most logical person to ask; he should be able give us a place to start looking for what we're after."

The older agent drained the last of his beer and put the empty bottle aside. He then rubbed his eyes, which were becoming sorer under the glare of the fluorescent lighting.

Victor not only sounded tired to Mac, he looked it too. There were dark circles beneath his slightly puffy eyes that had nothing to do with the bruising that still marked his face, but Mac knew better than to suggest to the ex -cop that he go home and take a nap before talking to Nathan. He understood that Victor needed to tie up all the loose ends as soon as possible, so that he could begin to put everything behind him.

The thought of breaking into the Director's office held a certain perverse appeal for Mac; he knew that the consequence of being caught in the act could very well mean death for them. If the Director was not beneath recording agents in the privacy of their own homes, who knew what she would be capable of, if she caught a couple of her agents violating the privacy of her own inner sanctum? Mac craved the thrill of living on the edge. Besides, he missed planning and performing a good break-in. Toss in a hard safe to crack on top of it all, and he would be in heaven.

Victor's outlook, on the other hand, was not so optimistic, in fact, he looked positively glum.

"What's the matter, Vic? You look like Eeyore" Mac commented. Forgetting his earlier caution, he grabbed Vic's shoulders and gave them a friendly shake, hoping that would lighten the guy's morose mood.

Nothing. I was just thinking," Victor replied absently.

"About what?" asked Mac.

Mulder

Not wanting to get into it again with Mac, Victor avoided answering. He stood up and tossed his napkin on top of the almost full plate of food he had left behind. "It's nothing important. Let's go and get started," he said. "The sooner we find the tape, the better."

Mac left some bills onto the table and walked out ahead of Victor. In an effort to distract himself from having more thoughts of Fox Mulder, Victor turned his mind to other things.

Do I really look as bad as Eeyore? he wondered. Maybe Mac's just teasing me. Wait a minute, he just called me a damned ass! And he got away with it!

Smiling mischievously at Mac's back, Vic extended one lanky leg and lightly pushed the toe of his Dayton boot into the back of Mac's left knee. The unexpected gesture caused Mac's knee to buckle, throwing him off balance.

"Hey!" Mac exclaimed indignantly, "What was that for?!" But his tone was light-hearted and he smiled when he caught sight of the large, almost radiant grin on Vic's lips.

"That was for calling me a donkey, Piglet!" Vic retorted jokingly.

"Piglet?" Mac was puzzled. At first he didn't get the connection between himself and that cartoon character. Piglet was such a little guy; they shared nothing in common.

"Yeah Piglet," Vic repeated. "With the amount of food you just put away, you could feed the children in a small country."

Mac tossed one of his witty comebacks over his shoulder back at the man walking behind him. Victor laughed, genuinely laughed, glad to have his mind taken off Fox Mulder and everything else that was going wrong in his life if just for one second.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Nathan Muckle's Office:

"Naaaathan..." Victor cooed softly and directly into his ear. "Would you mind terribly if I asked one teeny, tiny favour of you?" Victor was holding up his thumb and forefinger and pinching them together to emphasize how small the favour actually was, and blew a hot breath of air into Nathan's ear, making him shiver in response.

"Wh...what favour would that be, Victor?" he stammered.

"I really need you to me find me the floor plans for the Dominion Museum and help me figure out the security alarm codes. Mac and I are planning to rob it and we just can't do the job with out you."

"Yeah? So what will you do for me in return if I help you out?" Nathan braved. He was becoming erect just from having Victor stand so close to him.

"Anything you want, Nathan, anything at all." Victor's husky breath exhaled soft puffs of warm air back into Nathan's ear, sending delightful shivers down the librarians back.

"Okay, but you have to give me what I want first, then I'll help you out," Nathan dared. Now he was most definitely, without a doubt, fully erect. He frowned slightly at Vic when the breath stopped tickling his ear, but the other man was only moving to stand a couple of feet in front of him.

"It's a deal. What can I do for you?" Nathan felt Victor's large green eyes rake him over from head to toe.

"First you can come over here and kiss me, then we'll take it from there," replied Nathan, boldly. He was surprised to find that he did not feel even a little bit flustered, but rather in full control of himself.

Without hesitation Victor closed the short distance between them and placed his hands on either side of Nathan's face. Nathan watched passively as the handsome agent held on to him and searched his eyes. He knew what Victor would see in them; desire and need for him.

With a sharp intake of breath, Victor bent his head and pressed his soft lips upon Nathan's willing mouth. Nathan's tongue peeked out and prodded Victor's soft lips open, wrapping it around the other man's, excitedly. He moaned in protest when he felt Victor removing his hands from his face, but then was delighted to be pulled into a tight embrace so that their mutual erections could rub against each other.

Victor broke the seal of their kiss first. "Ohhh, Nathan," he moaned. "Nathan

Naaathan." Victor called softly. And when the young man did not wake he tried shaking him again, more firmly, "Nathan. Wake up." The other man was asleep in a black leather chair, sitting behind a desk stacked high with various papers and photos. It seemed, to Victor, as if he was dreaming, and judging by the large smile on Nathan's face, Victor guessed that it was probably a good dream. "Hey, Nathan," He tried again.

Startled, Nathan came awake suddenly, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and was surprised to see that it was Victor of all people who had woken him up.

Oh God, why did it have to be him? he thought, thoroughly embarrassed.

Victor smiled at the paper pusher and backed away until he was standing on the other side of the desk, a gesture Nathan was grateful for, considering the sizable erection he was sporting, the end result of the intense dream featuring this man and himself.

"S-s-sorry, I guess I fell asleep reading these ch-charts. What can I do for...V-Victor?" Nathan stuttered, as ever, unable to stop himself from becoming flustered while in his idol's presence.

"Actually, Nathan, I need to ask you for a huge favour, and it's a favour that I hope you could just keep between us." Vic's voice was so smooth to Nathan's ears that he believed Victor could have charmed the silk right out of a silk worm if hed wanted to.

"Sh-sh-sure Victor. Anything. Anything you like; anything at all. You name it." The nervous man replied.

Victor stared directly at Nathan with raised eyebrows, in silent question, but decided to let the comment pass and asked instead, "Actually Nathan, I have two favors to ask you. The first is that I need your help with typing up these oral ..." Vic didn't notice Nathan's slight quiver at the mention of oral. "... reports Mac and I dictated. We need them logged in too if you can handle that..."

Nathan was staring at Victor's mouth, mesmerized by his low tones, by the way speech rolled off of the other man's tongue and glided through his pink lips. Nathan wished he had the guts just to grab Victor and shove his tongue down his idol's throat.

"Are you listening to me? Hello? Nathan?" Victor said, suddenly aware that Nathan had been staring, open-mouthed, at him. His strange behaviour had Victor mildly baffled. He knew that Nathan tended to get jumpy when he was around, but the way he was zoning out on him now made Victor think that maybe something was really wrong. "What's the matter, Nathan? Are you okay?"

Dragging himself out of yet another fantasy involving Victor Mansfield, Nathan shook off his indecent vision and pulled himself together before the impatient agent could get mad at him. "Oh, no I'm okay." "Really." He added quickly when he saw the look of concern on Victor's face.

"Yeah, I can do that for you, but Mac's on his own. Did you know that he put a goldfish in my water cooler last week?"

Victor groaned and suppressed a smile at his partner's antics. Victor couldn't figure out why Mac didn't realize that by pulling such pranks on the other employees he was only digging himself a bigger hole. Then again, maybe his partner just didn't care about the repercussions.

"That bastard!" Victor yelled in mock, semi-anger. "I'll teach him a lesson for you myself. I promise, he won't do something like that again. Honestly." Victor tried to make himself look sincere to Nathan by opening his eyes wide. But what he was really trying to do, was control the grin that was threatening to break out across his face at the thought of a goldfish swimming around in Nathan's beloved water cooler.

Victor knew full well there was no way of stopping Mac and his tricks, but he did not feel compelled to tell Nathan that. Nathan hesitated as if in thought before answering, "Okay. I'll do both. But only because YOU asked me to. Ramsey can do his own report next time." Nathan smiled up at Victor, "What's the second favour?"

Victor leaned forward over the desk so that he was almost nose to nose with Nathan, totally oblivious of the effect that he was having on the man. "I need you to tell me everything you know about the agency and the Director's office, specifically any surveillance cameras or other hidden devices that might be inside. I need to know where in the office the Director hides her personal belongings for safe keeping. I also need to know where her own apartment is, and what kind of security measures she follows while there. I'll take anything and everything you've got, Nathan. I need you to keep this just between you and me. Can you do that for me Nathan? Can you give me what I need?"

Nathan, basking in Victor's nearness to him, felt his cock jump at Vic's innocent, 'Can you give me what I need'. Nathan wished that Victor would mean something else and actually 'come on' to him, but he was not that crazy, he knew that Victor would never flirt with him, and if Nathan tried to do so with him, it would only result in the crap getting kicked out of him. He wanted to stay on Victor's good side even though more often than not the man scared him silly with the aura of danger that he had about him, but on the same token, it was Vic's 'dangerous' undercurrents that excited him so. Victor had a starring role in all of Nathan's fantasies. In Nathans mind, Vic was the ultimate secret agent.

Without hesitation, Nathan replied, "Okay, I'll tell you what you want to know and I promise to..." He could barely say the next phrase; this conversation was becoming a one-sided wet dream for Nathan. "...to k-keep it just between the two of us." He meant it too; he would never tell another living soul what he was about to tell Victor. No one realized just how much Nathan did know about the agency, and not just the inner-workings of it either. Had anyone else realized, no doubt one director or another would have eventually found a way to get rid of him seeing that the agency liked to keep its secrets all to itself.

Nathan was genuinely worried that he might get into trouble; but he believed that the rewards far outweighed the risks in this case. The thought of him sitting with Victor for a couple of hours alone in a quiet room, with their heads and bodies close together further solidified his decision. "Okay, um, well, the Director has a safe hidden..." Nathan began.

Vic listened intently as Nathan told him everything he knew about the Director's office and the rest of the building.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Thanks Nate. I owe you one." Victor grasped Nathan's shoulders with his large hands and squeezed to emphasize his gratitude, not realizing that he was actually hurting Nathan slightly.

The reed-thin information man didn't mind; at least he would be able to see a bruise and remember how close he had been to his idol. Today's proceedings would be providing Nathan with jack-off material for several nights to come. He couldn't wait to go home. He desperately wanted to tell Victor that all he had to do was give him a little kiss to be even; that then Vic wouldn't 'owe him one' anymore, but he didn't dare broach the subject. Instead he only said, "Don't mention it...Victor. Just don't tell anyone what I told you or I'm in big trouble."

Victor smiled and thanked Nathan again. On his way out of the records room, he wondered why Mac didn't have enough common sense to get on Nathan's good side. The jittery, eccentric man was a fountain of information. He thought that Nathan was an okay kid; perhaps a little too wrapped in his belief in the existence of a 'upper Illuminati' and conspiracies, but a good kid nevertheless.

Had Victor looked back before he left the room, he would have seen the look of longing and desire on Nathan's face as he watched the agent leave.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Standing in complete darkness, Mac could hear a man screaming for help. Over and over again he heard it; the voice would not go away. As he turned around and around in circles, seeking the direction of the cries, suddenly it came to him whose voice it was. It was Victor's.

Despite the fact that his surroundings were completely foreign to him, (actually, he didn't even know what kind of building he was in; only that he was indoors,) Mac turned towards a darkened corridor that had suddenly become visible to him and began to run in the direction of the soulful cries. He was consumed by a single-minded goal; he needed find Victor and free him, and based on the sound of Vic's pitiful voice, Mac had no doubt that his partner was suffering from some kind of torture. It didnt matter to him that he didnt know where Vic was, all he cared about was that his partner was in danger, and he had to save him.

At the end of the long dark hall, Mac saw a lone door, painted red, and immediately realized that it was from behind the red door that Victor's screams were coming. Mac ran faster, but no matter how swiftly he went, he was unable to make any headway in getting closer to the door. It felt as if he were just running in place on a treadmill. He started to grow tired, and a fine layer of sweat broke out on his forehead, and between his shoulder blades, but he pressed on. He heard Vic's pleas for help, now muffled, and he increased his speed even more, his determination renewed.

He ran on and on, until, physically fit though he was, Mac grew just too tired to keep going, and just when he was about to give in to his exhaustion, he found himself directly in front of the red door. Reaching out with his hand he tested the brass knob, even though he had a feeling that it would be locked. He was proven correct when the knob would not budge under his grasp.

Suddenly, on the other side of the door, Vic's screams stopped altogether. Unnerved by the eerie silence, Mac drew his leg back and putting all his weight into it, gave the door one hard kick. The wooden structure was no match for his strength, and it gave way easily, the frame becoming splinters of dark wood that flew off in all directions. Immediately drawing his weapon, Mac crossed the threshold. In a small room beyond, he saw a single, dirty mattress with no bedding; it rested on a simple wooden bed frame, and on the filthy mattress lay Victor.

Jack was on the bed too, straddling Victor's nude body at his waist. Mac could see bruises marring Victor's pale face, clearly showing the beating he had taken at Jack's hands. Victor's eyes were closed, and his body was unmoving. Since he was mostly hidden by Jack, Mac couldnt even tell if Victor was still breathing.

Jack turned around and looked casually over his shoulder at Mac, seemingly unconcerned over the fact that someone had just walked in on him. Unsure if Victor was dead or merely unconscious, and very afraid that it was the former, Mac's hands wavered slightly, nervous, though he still managed to spit out in a cool and controlled voice, "Get your filthy hands off of my friend or else, you bastard."

Mac tightened his grip on his gun and aimed it deftly at the spot directly between his enemy's ice-blue eyes. He was confident that if Jack didn't comply with his wishes, that he would kill the man without blinking an eye and not lose a single nights sleep over it either.

"Or else what, Mac?" Jack said to the agent, tauntingly.

"How do you know my name?" asked Mac, momentarily confused.

"I know your name-you pathetic excuse for a partner-because I beat it out of Victor here." For emphasis, Jack grabbed a handful of Victor's short hair and gave the unconscious man's head a few hard jerks.

Mac winced as he saw Victor's neck snap back and forth lifelessly, like a rag dolls, but he remained silent, continuing to glare at Jack, trying not to let his resolve to kill Jack at all costs waver.

"You see Mac, Victor's life is in my hands and my hands alone, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it," Jack intoned cryptically. "His sanity rests solely with me. Even though I'm dead, I can still choose to haunt him in his dreams whenever I like. I can drive him insane if I want to. I can drive you crazy too for that matter. Your words cannot comfort him, they're useless. You have only yourself to blame for failing him, you know. You were too late in saving him from me. It was you who left him alone and unable to defend himself. It's your fault, partner. He's so screwed up now, he'll never be able to forget the memories of our time together. He's mine, Mac. Mine, and mine alone. Forever and ever. Victor Mansfield will always belong to me, mind, body and soul," laughed Jack, heartily.

Mac watched in horror as Jack turned toward Victor, whose eyes were now open but unseeing, and brutally bit into his right cheek; defying Mac and his gun.

"NO!" Mac screamed, and without calling out a warning, he pulled the trigger over and over again, riddling the psychopaths back with bloody bullet holes. Jack fell over, and Mac slowly lowered his gun, proclaiming to the dead body calmly, "He's mine"

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac bolted upright in his bed, panting and sweating. He couldn't believe how vivid his nightmare had been. It still seemed so real; he could feel the warmth of the automatic's steel in his hand and the lingering odour of blood and gunpowder in the air.

Sighing heavily, Mac reached over and turned on the small lamp that sat on his bedside table. He glanced at his alarm clock and grimaced at the time. It was only five in the morning. Pushing back the covers, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

I'm up now

Knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep after that dream, he decided just to get up and go over the break-in plans one more time. As he got out of bed and headed for his bathroom, Mac tried to make sense of what Jack' had told him. He wondered why Jack had mentioned in the dream that he would drive him insane along with Victor. Mac knew enough pop psychology to understand that he was most likely projecting how he really felt about not being able to help Victor. He had to admit that ever since Victor had told him what happened he could think of nothing else. In fact, he had been downright obsessive about the whole thing, mulling over the sad and gory details again and again.

Mac had gone to bed the night before with visions of Victor being strapped down and assaulted. He had fallen asleep to a fantasy about how he alone had been the one to find Victor, fantasizing that he had been the hero who kicked in the secret door and shot Jack in cold blood, stopping the brutal man in mid-motion as he beat his defenceless friend with the belt. He had imagined then, that when he ran to Victor to gallantly free him of his restraints, that his partner willingly wrapped his shaky arms around Mac in sheer gratitude, kissing him deeply, expressing his relief at finally being saved.

Mac shook his head to clear it. He guessed that if he did continue to obsess over Victor's story, he really could end up driving himself nuts. As he stepped into the hot spray of his shower, Mac had no doubt that his nightmare was the cumulative result of listening to Vic's story earlier, and his personal reactions to the whole sordid account. He turned up the temperature of the water, trying to scald away the after-effects of the bad dream.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Quit resisting me, you cheap whore, and take your clothes off," hissed Jack contemptuously.

Victor, on his knees in the corner of a cell, was cowering away from Jack's proximity; his back against the hard cement wall. He could feel moisture trickling from his nose, and when he stuck the tip of his tongue to his upper lip, Victor could taste his own blood in his mouth. The room that they were in was completely black except for two bright bluish-white spotlights that shone down from somewhere above. One spot was on him and the other on Jack, illuminating the two them and nothing else.

Jack started walking toward Victor and the spotlight moved along with him. Victor was both tired and hungry; he'd had enough of Jack and his games, and although he felt humiliated, begging Jack to stop hurting him, he did so anyway. In a small voice he pleaded, "N-n-no. Please. I can't. I just can't." He knew that he should try to make a run for it, but he was frozen in place by fear of what was to come next. Jack was now looming directly over him with a needle; a needle Victor knew, was full of poison, the particular poison he never wanted to feel pulsing through his system again.

Although he was afraid to stand up and obey, Victor was more afraid of what would happen if he didnt. After a few seconds more of hesitation, he arose on trembling legs, wiping away the sweat that had formed on his brow while surreptitiously darting looks left and right for an escape route that would take him away from this nightmare.

Realizing that there wasn't one, Victor reluctantly pulled his T-shirt over his head, his hands shaking. He turned his head away and looked into the darkness as he undressed, embarrassed by Jack's wolfish stare. He knew he couldn't spare himself the shame of undressing in front of this sexual predator, his jailer, but he thought that he could at least evade Jack's direct gaze by turning his head away.

Unfortunately for him, Jack knew just what Vic was up to. "Look at me when you do that!" he commanded. "I want to see my reflection in your pretty green eyes." He took another step closer to Victor and waved the needle full of the potent drugs menacingly in front of Vic's face.

Victor tried retreating backwards, away from the drugs but the cement wall behind his bare back prevented him from doing so. Silently, he wished that his body would just melt into the cement but it was to no avail; secret wishing couldnt help him. Knowing that it was the way he looked that had made Jack want to abduct him in the first place, Vic couldn't help damning his parents for cursing him with dark green eyes instead of a pair of generic brown ones.

Staring straight ahead at the command, Vic concentrated on looking through Jack, rather than at him. With his vision slightly blurred by his watering eyes, Victor moved his cold hands to his belt and unfastened the small metal buckle, then, with a quick flick of his fingertips, the top button of his slightly-worn blue jeans easily came undone, and he tried to delay the inevitable for a few seconds longer by pulling his zipper down slowly, one tooth at a time.

When his pants are completely undone, he became aware of Jack's reactionthe other man was running his tongue over his lips in an explicit display of arousal. Victor hesitated while pulling down his jeans and wondered briefly if any good would come from asking Jack to shoot him full of drugs now. It would be nice to have them sink into his system, so that they could knock him out, before Jack began his assault. He didn't want to be conscious to feel what Jack would soon be doing to him, nor did he want to hear the biting insults he knew Jack would be flinging his way in order to shame him.

As he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, Victor also wondered if today would be the day that Jack would bend him over and actually rape him. There would be no surprises there since Jack had already done just about everything else to him, but before Victor could pull his jeans down all the way, Jack suddenly moved in even closer, and with one hand, grabbed Vic by the throat, squeezing tightly enough to cut off part of his air supply.

Panicked, Victor's hands automatically shot up to grab Jack's thick wrist, trying to deter him, but the protective gesture was in vain. The odds had been against Victor from the beginning of his captivity; his body had been weakened by hunger and lack of sleep, whereas Jack was obviously rested and well fed. Finally, realizing the futility of fighting, Victor dropped his arms back down to his sides in surrender. His little act of defiance had angered Jack even more, and he slammed Victor's head against the grey wall in retaliation. The force of the blow was hard enough to make Victor see starbursts explode before his eyes.

With his steel cold eyes locked onto Victor's slightly unfocussed ones, Jack leant his face in close and said, "Youre mine, Vic-tor. I own your spirit now and forever. Youll always remember me, and what we did together." Jack laughed cruelly at his own words, and then gave Victor a brutal kiss; it was a lip-crushing kiss that left Victor's mouth bruised. He bit into Victor's soft, full, bottom lip, hard enough to open up the tender flesh and draw blood. When Jack finally pulled his head back, Victor could tell that the man was turned on even more by the wound that hed made on Vics lip. He could also feel Jack's erection rubbing up against his abdomen. The psychotic man still had the lower half of Vics body pinned against the wall with his own. Victor wondered if it was the sight of his deep, red blood that made Jack hard or if it was merely because he was being hurt and humiliated.

Feeling nauseous, Victor swallowed hard and inhaled sharply through his nose in an attempt to keep his gorge down, but since Jack's hand was still restricting Victor's air passage his breath ended in a heavy gasp instead. He began attempting to suck in large mouthfuls of oxygen, but succeeded in only taking in the minimum amount of air his body required. His head began to swim, and before long, he started to see planets in addition to the stars before his eyes, as he felt his consciousness slowly ebbing away.

Afraid of what would happen to him if it actually happened, Victor attempted to reach deep within himself to find the courage with which to fight back, but it was too late. He could already feel Jack plunging the sharp needle into his biceps, its potent contents burning as they passed into his body and entered his blood stream. He winced at the discomfort caused by the needle, and Jack leant in once more to suck on his bloody bottom lip. Victor's knees began to buckle from the effects of the drugs, and he slowly started to slide down the cement wall. He could barely register the fact that the cement wall was tearing the fresh scabs off his damaged back; the pain it caused came to him as a dull, throbbing ache.

The last words he heard before passing out completely were Jack, telling him that he was going to wish he was dead by the time he was done with him. Victor's eyes fluttered closed, and as his forehead made contact with the cement ground in front of him, he did wish that he were dead.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Vic's Apartment 5:00 a.m.

Victor, still unsettled by the disturbing nightmare he had experienced, was sitting on a wooden chair starring out of the sliding glass doors that led to his balcony.

The nightmare - like all the others that hed experienced, had been very intense. Hed felt everything so clearly: from the coldness of the wall upon his back to the warmth of the open wounds, to the blood running down his spine; it had all seemed so real.

When hed finally been released from the scary depths of the bad dream, Hed gone straight to his bathroom and looked into the mirror. To his dismay, he could see that at some point during his restless sleep, hed managed to tear the scabs off the two deepest welts where they ran across his right shoulder blade.

Both sores were bleeding freely. He'd managed to clean the wounds and bandage them up, doing the best that he could to staunch the flow of blood before leaving his bathroom to return to his bedroom. Despite only managing to get just over three hours of sleep, he did not even attempt to go back to sleep after seeing the red blots on his sheets.

Instead, he padded to the dining room and grabbed a chair, placing it before his balcony doors. He pulled open the blinds and seated himself so that he could watch the deep Cimmerian night slowly begin to lighten to dark blue, signalling the onset of dawn.

In the effort of trying not to think about the event that had made his sleep restless and laden with images he would just as soon forget, Vic concentrated on going over the information Nathan had given him the day before. He was trying to memorize every word, every detail. He wanted to go to the agency prepared, he knew if he and Mac failed at their endeavour then it would be over for both of them. Victor wanted to be primed and ready, if only for Mac's sake. He was apathetic when it came to his personal safety, but making sure the mission went smoothly would ensure Mac's safety. He did not want to let his partner down. Their task was really no different from other ones they'd had, and Victor had every intention of fulfilling his end of the mission to the letter. Mac would need muscle to back him up, and Vic would definitely be there to watch his back, making sure no one would come along and stumble upon them, catching them unaware.

As Victor continued running through his mind all the possible scenarios that might occur, the sky began to lose its dimness, making way for early morning sunshine that broke over the surrounding buildings and shone directly into Victor's face.

Made it through another night with most of my sanity intact.

Victor looked at his watch. It was six o'clock in the morning already, and he decided that he might as well get started on the day. Rising from his seat, he winced at the pins and needles he felt in his bottom from remaining seated for so long. He started for his bathroom, intending on taking a shower, but instead he ended up veering for his laptop computer, as it sat in the corner of the room.

He had been thinking of Mulder off and on for several days now. He wanted to know if Mulder had been thinking of him as well, so giving into his curiosity he booted up the computer and after plugging in his modem, logged onto his server. Opening his e-mail program to check his mail, Vic was surprised to see that he did in fact have one piece of mail waiting to be read.

When he called up the mail, Victor was greeted with a sound wav window. He pushed the play button and immediately, Pink Floyd began singing a verse from their song, "Wish You Were Here":

How I wish How I wish you were heeere. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, Year after year. Running over the same old ground, Have we found the same old fears? Wish you were heeere.

Victor sighed melancholically, then he read the short note on the screen:

V. Heard this song and thought it was appropriate, considering how things turned out for us. I wish it could have been different, spy guy.. To find the one person that suited me so well, only to lose him because we are geographically incompatible...hurts, but who knows, Vic, maybe one day we will both become disillusioned with our respective occupations and give them up. Until then, I can only think of you and what we had. Victor, you took a lifetime of pain and made it disappear for me; even if it was only for a couple of hours. It's really no small feat considering the details of my life, and I never got around telling you about them; after all, I didn't want to scare you off too soon. We will meet again Victor. I promise. And when we do, it will be for good, of that Im sure. Take care of yourself, Vic. Please do that for me. Tell Mac I said to watch your back...or I'll kick his ass. Yours in mind and soul even if not body, M.

Victor typed a similar letter in response to his former lover and then logged off, snapping his laptop shut. He stood, stretched and headed for the bathroom, glad that he had decided to check his mail. Mulder's letter had - in an odd sort of way - cheered him up considerably. At least he now knew that Mulder wanted to keep in contact with him, even if it was only by e-mail.

Victor turned on the water and stepped into the spray, his thoughts still on Fox Mulder. As he lathered himself up, he began to imagine that it was Fox who was soaping his skin, just the way he had done before in this very shower a few short weeks ago. He began slowly to run his fingertips up and down his torso - from the bottom of his aching balls and erect, throbbing cock to his sensitive nipples. Closing his eyes, he fantasized that they weren't his own hands touching his body but rather Mulder's.

Mulder was pinching Vic's nipples, alternating between squeezing the two brown nubs between his index finger and thumb and running his forefingers over the sensitized flesh he had captured between them. Victor's breathing became faster and heavier. After awhile, he felt Mulder release his nipples and saw him sinking to his knees to engulf his engorged, leaking cock. Victor sighed loudly, twining his fingers around Mulder's wet hair. He began prompting Mulder with his hands, encouraging his lover to increase his rhythm. Mulder obeyed and before long Victor was sucked, nibbled and licked to orgasm. Deftly swallowing all the jism that Vic's intense orgasm produced, Mulders hazel eyes stared up into Victor's as he continued to deep-throat him and swallow his cum...

Victor released his cock. He felt sated and was more than a little pleased to find out that at least Jack didn't invade his conscious thoughts or fantasies against his will. He felt a little lazy from orgasming so hard. Turning off the hot water, he finished his shower with a skin-numbing, cold blast to wake himself up completely. Once done, he quickly stepped out into the steamy room and towelled himself dry.

Rubbed away a spot in his fogged-over mirror to look at himself, Vic noted in disgust that the circles under his eyes were even darker this morning than yesterday morning. Frowning at his own reflection, but knowing he could do nothing about the circles now, he simply shrugged and reached for his shaving gel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Coffee Shop 7:45 a.m.

7:45. Vic's late, Mac noted, as he looked at the numbers on his digital watch. Every time the door to the small cafe opened, Mac would look up from his paper anxiously. When the small bell over the door jingled for about the twentieth time, suggesting that yet another patron had entered, Mac once again looked up and smiled at the sight of Victor who was looking around the restaurant, apparently searching for him. Spotting Mac, Vic gave his partner a bright smile, and with a nod of his head, started to walk over to the table. Mac watched him as he moved toward their table. Even though he was still some distance away, Mac could see the dark circles under his partner's eyes standing out stark and menacing against the soft pallor of his skin. Obviously, Victor had experienced a poor night's sleep again. Mac was a little disappointed that despite his promise, Victor hadnt in fact called him up as hed promised he would, were he to suffer through another bout of insomnia.

When Victor finally reached their table and slid into his seat, Doreen, the waitress, whom Mac had a hard time flagging down earlier, suddenly appeared at the table with a fresh pot of coffee. She poured a cup of the dark brew for Victor before turning to Mac and asking with a fake smile, "More for ya, son?" "Yes, please. Thanks, Doreen." Mac smiled back, his sincerity just as feigned.

Doreen poured Mac's coffee, ignoring the fact that shed slopped liquid over the rim in the process. She turned to Vic and beamed. "What'll it be, handsome?" Mac saw that the smile she had for Victor was genuine. He groaned audibly.

Obviously he eats here all the time.

Victor flicked his eyes over at Mac. He thought for a second before replying, "Eggs over easy, bacon and sourdough toast. Hash browns-extra crispy please."

Doreen flashed her teeth at Victor then began to walk away.

Mac stared after her in astonishment; he could not believe that she had totally disregarded him. Trying to get his first cup of coffee out of her had been like trying to extract impacted wisdom teeth, and now shed just completely dissed him after taking Vic's order. Victor, who had arrived later than he did!

The old bitch!

Mac decided right there that next time they would meet in one of his regular haunts; he hated being treated like the invisible man. Doreen probably has the hots for Vic. Figures, he hmmphed quietly. Noticing the expression on Mac's face, Vic chuckled and called out to the waitress on his behalf.

"Uhh, Doreen, honey?" Victor called flirtatiously. Doreen turned around at the sound of his voice immediately.

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"My friend would like to order too." Victor smiled up at her and showed her his even white teeth.

Disgruntled, Mac grimaced and gave Vic a I-just-bet-you're-loving-this look before saying to Doreen, "I'll have the same as him." He figured that would probably be the only way to ensure that his order would get to their table while it was still warm.

Doreen nodded in acknowledgment, and as she walked away, Victor laughed heartily.

"Do you know...," Mac began, "...that until you came, I had to nurse my first cup of coffee because I was afraid she would never come back?" Mac grinned at Victor. "Don't ever bring me here to eat again. What a dump!"

"You're such a snob Mac," retorted Victor, cheerily. "Besides, the food's worth the abuse, trust me. The waitress may be terrible, but the cook is awesome. You'll never eat a more perfectly done egg in your life, and the hash browns are to die for." Victor put his fingertips to his lips and made a kissing sound as he pulled them away.

Mac laughed, glad that Victor appeared to be in such good spirits this morning. "How are you doing? Did you sleep well last night?" he asked, his mood suddenly changing from slightly pissed-off to worried.

Victor deflected Mac's question with a wave of his hand, not wishing to dwell on his lack of sleep last night. To linger on it meant he would have to think of Jack; something he definitely did not want to do today if he could help it. His thoughts were already full of Fox Mulder, and ways to break into the Agency. "I'm fine, don't worry. What kind of a plan did you come up with?" he asked, changing the subject quickly.

Mac searched Vic's eyes for a second before pulling out some graph paper on which he had drawn a small map of the Director's office, the hallways leading to the office, and the surrounding air shafts. He highlighted the air shaft that they would use to sneak in. Mac flattened the papers on the table and began to recite his plan. "Okay, here's where we'll enter from the outside..."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The coffee shop.

When the two agents had finished going over the plans for their break-in, Mac refolded the incriminating papers carefully and shoved them back into his pants pocket. He looked across the table at his partner and noticed that even though Victor had ordered a large breakfast, he had barely touched his food. In fact, he hadnt taken a single bite from his eggs; only the toast was gone; Victor had downed that with three cups of strong coffee. Mac wondered if Victor's lack of appetite was due to the previous night; Vic still hadn't explained the dark circles and when Mac asked him about them again, all he did was change the subject.

Uninterested in his food, Vic pushed his full plate aside. He motioned to the waitress, and she immediately came over with a full, fresh pot of coffee to fill his cup for the fourth time that morning. As he accepted another cupful, Vic kept her approval by flirting overtly with the slightly heavy, overly made-up woman.

Mac grimaced at the sight of the love-struck waitress who hung onto everything Victor said.

She is waay out of her league. I can't believe she would seriously think Vic would be remotely interested. She's not even the right sex for him! thought Mac, nevertheless, it still bothered him that Vic would flirt with her so freely, even though Mac knew he wasn't the least bit interested. Mac hid the small pang of jealousy he felt behind his own coffee cup. Draining the last of the coffee, Mac banged the cup down on the table top in frustration over every single thing in his life that he could not control; Victor's affections and where they lay being one of those things.

The cup hit the Formica tabletop harder than Mac had intended, startling both Victor and Doreen. Doreen jumped slightly at the unexpected noise, while Victor automatically reached inside his jacket for his gun. Once his brain realized that it was only Mac who'd made the noise, Vic immediately pulled his hand back out a little and covered the move by pretending to scratch his left shoulder instead. He chuckled lightly when he saw that Mac was staring at him with a slight grin; Mac knew exactly what Vic had been about to do. He would have done the same thing had it been reversed.

"Check, please," Mac said to Doreen in an overtly sincere voice, even though he continued to scowl at her.

Doreen gave Mac a look that translated to, Youre an asshole, before turning her gaze back to Victor and smiling brightly. "Sure thing, Vic." She glanced down as she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a bill. She looked it over quickly, making sure she had the right one, and placed it face down on the table in front of Victor. Turning, Doreen sashayed away without so much as a backwards glance toward Mac.

Mac pointed his finger and raised his eyebrows at the retreating back of the waitress, laughing as he announced to Vic, "That woman is not going to get a tip out of my pocket." Taking his eyes off of the annoying waitress, Mac smiled at Victor and joked, "A little jumpy are we, Vic? For a second there, I was afraid you'd shoot me."

Mac leaned back in his chair, making no motion to go for the check. He crossed his arms across his chest and watched Victor's clear green eyes open up wide as he responded with, "Maybe I should have. Honestly Mac, the food is good here. I don't want to get a bad reputation for being a difficult customer just because I you were with me And I suppose you expect me to pick up the tab?" Victor smiled while pointing at the check; then blushed slightly when he noticed the large heart drawn around the words "Thank-you, come again," written in Doreen's large, loopy handwriting.

"Damn straight. First of all, I think the check was meant for you in the first place." Mac pointed to the large heart with the writing in it. Then he said, "And second, I aint paying for being abused verbally and . . . and . . . and lookingly by an uneducated, lovesick food server for the last two hours. And if the food's so good, how come you didn't eat any of it?" Mac leaned forward and looked directly into Victor's eyes seriously, waiting for Vic's answer.

"Too much coffee, I guess, it filled me up," Victor lied. He dropped the subject by standing up and grabbing the check as he did so. He reached into the tight, front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a few bills and a couple of coins, dropping a couple of two dollar coins onto the table top, then he headed for the cash register.

Mac stood as well and followed. After paying the bill, they left the restaurant in companionable silence.

Victor broke the quiet by asking Mac, "Oh, by the way, how can someone abuse you 'lookingly'? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Victor stopped at his truck which was parked next to Mac's BMW and unlocked the driver's side door.

"Lookingly . . . you know?" Mac gestured with one hand like Victor should automatically understand what he meant by the word, "..lookingly. Like, she gave me dirty looks and said nasty things to me the whole time we were there, therefore, she abused me verbally and lookingly. What else would you call it?"

Victor smiled and shook his head as he unlocked the door to his truck then turned to face Mac who winked at him before putting on his sunglasses. "Follow me home, and we'll pull the equipment out and check it over." Mac opened his own car door and hopped in. Revving up his engine, he pulled out of the parking lot to make his way home.

As he watched the other man pull out, Victor was pleased that Mac had managed to lighten his dark mood so easily. Climbing into his truck, he pulled out into traffic and followed his partner.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac's Storage Cubicle.

Victor sneezed loudly, mumbling, Thank-you, to Macs automatic, bless you. He could see the dust motes, which had been disturbed by his and Mac's presence in the storage room, floating lazily through the air. When he sneezed again, the irony of the situation struck him, after all, his sneezing had been the way this whole thing had begun.

It was because of his apparent allergy, and his use of an evidence-tainted handkerchief that had brought about a chain of events resulting in this whole, big, muddled mess. If he hadn't sneezed into the handkerchief which contained the saliva of the suspect in the case he and his two partners had been working on - the mad bomber case - the Director wouldn't have decided to 'punish' him by introducing him to Mulder. Somehow shed known that he would be attracted to the G-man, which would give her the chance to videotape him and Mulder together secretly.

Victor made a low sound of disgust as he reminded himself that he and his two partners had been pulled off of an active case in the middle of it, just because of his mishap. He guessed the Director had probably given the assignment to that other team-the one that had three members who resembled Vic's own.

They probably solved the case easily too.

After sneezing yet again, Victor pushed his negative thoughts aside and concentrated on the here and now instead. He sighed once more, softly this time, and rubbed at his watery eyes. Being in the storage basement of Mac's apartment building was making him nervous.

Even though he was with Mac, Victor couldn't help being dismayed by the sight of the plain grey cement walls: their similarity to his previous place of captivity haunted him. "You almost done?" Vic asked, irritably pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes as he tried to alleviate the persistent itch in them.

Mac, who was busy going through his 'stash', stopped what he was doing to glance back over his shoulder at his partner. The sneezing, watery-eyed man seemed fidgety. Mac looked around briefly before he realized the reasons for Victor's discomfort; straightening up, he said, "Yeah, that oughtta do it." He stuffed a nightstick into the duffel bag Vic was holding for him, which was already full of other various gadgets he thought they might need for their little break-in. He figured that if he had left anything out, he could just return for it later. He reminded himself that they would need to sort out all their equipment and make sure it was all in good working condition before they left for the agency.

Mac had told no one what he kept in his storage cell, not even LiAnn. Now, of course, Victor knew but he trusted that Vic would keep its contents to himself. Mac had slowly been collecting various items over the years and squirreling them way because one never knew when one would need such things. Michael Tang had taught him that it was always better to be prepared, for anything and everything.

Victor was relieved when they finally left the basement and returned to the brightness of Mac's apartment. Once inside, he dropped the duffel bag on the rug and began pulling the assorted items out, setting them aside to examine them. Pushing the coffee table away, Mac joined Victor on the floor. He picked up the electronic box that he used to aid him in cracking safes and turned it on, scrutinizing it for any malfunctions. Vic left the complicated equipment to Mac and opted for checking the other, simpler but equally important gear.

He reached over and picked up a rope that was attached to two pulleys to check it over. Each man was intent on their task. Silent and determined in their work the afternoon passed quickly for the two partners.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Director's private office 2:00 a.m.

The last slot turned and tumbled into place, a small click heard only through the stethoscope Mac was using, telling him that the safe was now unlocked. Smiling through the darkness at the tall shadow that was Victor, he whispered very softly into the small microphone that dangled in front of his mouth, "Houston, we have lift off."

Mac gently eased the safe door open. Using a slim, finger-sized flashlight, he swept the interior. Moving aside two large boxes of Cuban cigars, he resisted the urge to steal one or two of the large cylinders. Behind those cohibas, he found that which he and Victor were seeking. Mac picked up the two plain black plastic videotape covers and opening one up, read the label stuck to the videotape inside. "Vic" was all it said. Checking the inside of the second tape, he saw that it said Vic II. Removed both tapes, he hid them securely inside one of the deep pockets within his black utility vest. Mac closed the empty cases tight and then very carefully put back everything to the way that he had found it; he had no doubt that the Director would eventually find out what theyd done, but he figured if he returned things to their original place It would be later preferably much later.

"Got 'em! whispered Mac into the mike. There was no need to say anything else: Victor's audible sigh relayed back to him that he knew exactly what Mac meant. "I'm coming back. Pull me in," added the thief.

On Mac's okay, Victor picked up the rope that Mac was dangling from and pulled in the slack, aiding his partners return. When Mac reached the top, Victor helped him unbuckle the harness to release him from the complicated ropes. He then bound up the ropes quickly and stuffed them into a black knapsack with the rest of the gear, flinging the bag around efficiently and settling it against his back.

"Ready?" he asked Mac, who was busy looking around, making sure that they had not given away their presence. Mac nodded his head. "All right then, let's get the hell out of here!" Vic whispered emphatically. Mac took point and led the way out of the Directors office, as Victor watched their backs. The two men, silent as the mist, made their way swiftly out of the agency.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Once back outside, both of them let out their breath in a whoosh, relieved that they had just successfully broken into the Director's office and lived to tell the tale. Victor reminded himself to buy Nathan a case of beer, impressed that the man's information had been bang on the money.

Mac fell into step beside Vic as they walked the four blocks back to Victor's truck; hed parked far away from the Agency as a measure of insurance, not wanting anyone from work to recognize his truck, thereby linking him to this treasonous act of larceny. He also knew that the Director would be sure discover their little crime eventually. It was merely a matter of when. Like Mac, he was just trying to preserve their ruse as long possible.

As they were walking down a dark alley Mac flung his arm around Victor's shoulders and hugged him. "Yeah! We did it!!" he gushed in sheer jubilation, at what was, in his opinion, the ultimate heist of all time.

Victor laughed at Mac's enthusiasm, but before he could answer his partner the sound of another male voice, speaking to them from the darkened shadows, made them freeze. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here, Dave. Two 'lovers' out for a midnight stroll." The man spat the word 'lovers' out.

As he spoke a man stepped out of the darkness and into the dim moonlight. The stranger was casually slapping a blackjack against his left hand. Another man, presumably Dave, stepped from the blackness on the other side of Victor. He had a black jack as well. Instinctively, Mac and Victor arranged themselves so that they were back to back; each of them keeping their eyes on the man closest to him.

Victor raised his hands palms up and stated coolly to the menacing man in front of him, "Listen, you've got us mistaken for a couple of easy marks. I promise that's not the case. Now put down those sticks before my friend and me get really get mad and kick the shit out of you." To emphasize his point, Vic flashed a nasty, feral smile at Dave.

Yeah," agreed Mac. He took on an exaggerated southern twang in his voice and drawled out, "We'll wring the red right off of yer skinny necks fer yall."

Victor laughed at Macs jibe. Dave and his friend, however, did not see the humour in the witty insult.

Without warning Dave swung the small club in his right hand, and as Victor feinted to his left in an attempt to stop the swing, Dave struck out with his left fist instead and caught Victor in the side of his face with a hard jab, causing Vic's nose and mouth to spurt blood. Victor fell to his knees, temporarily stunned.

Mac turned his gaze toward Victor for only a split second in reaction, but it was time enough for the other thug to make his move. Seeing his chance, the guy swung his black jack at Mac, catching him unaware. The blow caught him at the base of the skull, momentarily knocking him down and out.

Victor screamed, "Mac!" As his body became overwhelmed by adrenalin, it took over and shifted him into aggressive, autopilot mode. He jumped up from his kneeling position and kicked his assailant hard enough in the kneecap that he actually heard it give way and make a sickening, snapping sound. Dave fell to the ground writhing in pain and clutching at his shattered knee.

Vic bent over and in one swift motion picked up the wriggling man's club while simultaneously pulling his gun. Cocking it, Victor spun around and yelled, "FREEZE!" at the partner, who had his weapon raised and was about to strike the prone, unconscious Mac again. The man had already kicked Mac a few times in the stomach, ribs and face; Victor could see bright red blood trickling out of Macs nostrils.

The assailant froze instantly at the sight of Victor's gun. He dropped the club and it clattered as it hit the ground. The unnamed man put his hands up in the air and rested them on his head in the usual position taken by a perp once they have been caught.

"Take it easy man, no need to get all worked up," he said nervously as his eyes darted from Mac to Victor to Dave, whom Victor was keeping pinned to the ground by pushing on the man's damaged kneecap with one booted foot.

Victor was not pushing hard enough to truly hurt the man but just enough to let him know he had better stay put, although with a crushed kneecap the injured man would be unlikely to rise on his own anytime soon. Victor pressed down on Dave's knee once more, making the man cry out in agony, before backing away slowly. One tiny bead of sweat made its way down his temple, but even though he felt wired, Victor's face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. He held his hands rock steady on his gun, and his voice did not waver from the icy tone as he commanded Mac's attacker to, "Collect your shithead friend and get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and shoot both of you."

The other man scuttled over to his hurt friend and helped him to his feet. As he dragged Dave away, the man looked back every few yards to make sure that Vic had not changed his mind and decided to shoot them after all.

Victor waited until the men were completely out of the alley and out of his sight before he re-holstered his gun and ran to his downed friend. "Mac! Mac!" he shouted, as he slapped the limp man's bruised face somewhat roughly in an attempt to revive him, and felt relief wash through him when he saw Mac's eyelids flutter and then open up wide.

"I love you," Mac stated woozily as he blinked his unfocused eyes up into Victor's concerned face.

Victor stared dumbfounded at his partner for a second before dismissing Mac's words as nonsense. He guessed that Mac had probably been hit hard enough in the head to cause a concussion, and he knew that people who had been bashed about in such a way usually didn't say the most sensible things. He chose to ignore Mac's confession of love. The lights blinked out on Mac again and he went limp in Vic's arms.

Alarmed at the possibility that the guy with the blackjack might have done some serious damage, Vic reluctantly lay his partner down gently on the cold asphalt. He removed the knapsack that he had been wearing, and then his own coat. Bundling up the leather into a neat package, he placed his coat underneath Mac's still head. Rummaging through the knapsack for his phone and using his teeth, he pulled the antenna out on the cell. Just as he was about to dial 911, out of the corner of his eye he saw Mac wake up and rise shakily to his hands and knees. Before Victor could even dial the number; his partner started vomiting - all over his favourite jacket.

Victor dropped the phone to the pavement and knelt next to Mac. He reached out one big, comforting hand and rubbed Mac's back as the man finished bringing up every last bit of Japanese food that he had eaten earlier for supper.

Grimacing slightly at the sight of his ruined jacket, Victor turned his face away at the sight and smell of the regurgitated food, but he kept his hand where it was, running it soothingly over Macs arched back.

"I'm okay now," Mac said softly. "Don't call anyone. It'll only draw suspicion to what we were doing earlier." He sat up on his haunches and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he spat to rid himself of the foul taste still left in his mouth, noticing that there was blood on the back of his hand but paying no attention to it. His head hurt the most - it ached like nothing he had ever felt before. He knew the sensible thing to do was to get himself checked out, but to call an ambulance would be too risky, and also he didnt really trust doctors. He just wanted to get home, somewhere safe so that he could assess the damages done to him on his own.

Mac looked up to Victor and gave the slightly blurry man a small lopsided grin, "Way to save my bacon, Vic," he kidded softly. Then he reached up and tenderly wiped away some of the blood that was still oozing out of the corner of Victor's mouth. Mac looked at the small gout of blood on his fingers with a slight frown, before he wiped it off on his dark utility vest.

Victor smiled back, relieved that his partner seemed okay now. He was convinced that Mac had been just a little out of his head when hed told him that he loved him.

He probably doesn't even remember that he spoke

Picking up the knapsack and swinging back over his shoulder, Victor stood up and helped Mac to his feet, letting the wobbling man lean on him for support. After a few steps, he remembered something and leading Mac to large a garbage bin, he helped him take hold of the side of the steel box for support. "Hang on a minute will ya," he said to Mac. Victor left Mac momentarily to return to where his jacket still lay. He plucked the offending garment up with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, and as carefully as he could, using only the thumb and forefinger of the other hand, pulled out what effects he had in the pockets of the jacket. He returned to the trash bin with it and dumped the jacket into the large receptacle.

"Sorry about that man. I guess I should have aimed better, eh?" Mac said sheepishly to Victor.

"Oh well, some bum probably won't care that it's been puked on. I think I'll let you take me shopping to one of those fancy stores you're always going on about and buy me a new one though." Vic raised his eyebrows at his partner and laughed heartily before saying, "Come on, let's get out of here before the cops come by and try to take a statement or something. I'll take you home."

Placing an arm around his partner, Vic held Mac firmly to his side, gripping him tightly. Then the two of them started down the alley in the direction that they had been originally been heading before they were waylaid.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Welcome back, partner," Victor whispered gently into Mac's face.

Mac's eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings and finally opened. He found himself looking up into Victor's concerned face. He smiled weakly in reassurance, not only to Victor but to himself as well. Mac was glad to note, that he in fact, was not dead, although, at that moment, he only felt half-alive.

"Hey," Mac whispered back softly before closing his eyes, shuttering them with the back of his hand against the early morning light which made his throbbing headache pulse harder.

Relieved by Mac's return to consciousness, Victor smiled toward his partner before turning away. He went into the bathroom to rinse out with cold water the washcloth that he had been using as a cooling pad for Mac's forehead.

As soon as Victor was out of the room, Mac tried to ignore the pain in his head and attempted to stand up. On a pair of very wobbly legs, he managed to pull himself to a semi-upright position before a wave of debilitating dizziness washed over him, causing his weak legs to give out completely. Luckily, at the same moment, Victor was returning from the bathroom; he was just in time to catch Mac before he fell to the floor.

"Whoa . . . hey watch it. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Victor asked, his voice a mixture of anger and concern, as he eased his partner carefully back into bed.

"Ugh," Mac groaned. "Don't shout at me. My head hurts." The pain in his head was so great that he barely had enough energy to raise his voice above a hoarse whisper.

Victor frowned at Mac's still form then deftly bent over to scoop up the washcloth he had dropped when hed caught Mac. Folding it neatly, he placed it on Mac's brow so that it partially covered the man's closed eyes. "I'm not yelling," Vic stated quietly. "It just sounds that way because you have a concussion."

Mac purred softly when he felt the cool cloth press against his heated skin. "Ahhh, that feels better."

Keeping one hand on the washcloth to hold it in place on Mac's forehead, Victor reached with his other hand to a chair that was standing nearby, dragged it over, and plunked himself down in it. He sat watching Mac, as the other man's chest slowly rose and fell, and the rest of his body remained unmoving. Mac stayed that way for so long, that after a while Vic started wondering if maybe Mac had gone back to sleep, but on a closer look, he realized that his partner was merely resting. His breathing was way too shallow for him to be asleep.

Probably just trying to calm the headache

Victor pursed his lips. He was about to ask Mac if he wanted some Tylenol, when Mac spoke out first. "I meant what I said you know," he said, his voice barely audible. Without opening his eyes Mac flipped the cloth over, so that the cooler side was against his skin.

Victor's eyes widened with unease. Oh shit, please Mac, not the I love you thing.

"What? You mean about the cold compress feeling good?" Victor questioned, pretending not to understand what Mac was talking about.

Mac sighed. "No. Not that, fool. What I said to you last night in the alley." He hesitated for a second before going on, "You know when I told you I loved you."

Mac was glad that his face was partially hidden by the cloth, for he was sure that he was blushing hard enough for Victor to see the telltale spots that coloured his cheekbones. Even though he had been thinking about Victor, and the possibilities of them being together for quite sometime now, hed never had the courage to do anything about it, but when they were attacked in the alley, the thought, This is it. I'm gonna die had raced across his mind, and Mac had been sure that time had run out on him before he could confess his love. He was not afraid of dying, but he was afraid to die with so much unfinished business. Needing to resolve his feelings before certain death, Mac had decided to speak his heart to Victor. Hed surprised even himself when hed admitted out loud to Victor what he could barely admit to himself privately. It was something he would never think to do under normal circumstances, but then when hed woken up in his own bed and discovered that he hadn't expired after all, Mac realized that he would have to deal with what hed said to Vic. The events of last night had made Mac realize that there were no absolutes in life, and recalling the clich about death and taxes, he definitely didn't want to find himself standing at the 'pearly gates' with regrets for what might have been, so instead of blithely passing off the remark as nothing, Mac decided to deal with the situation head on and confront Victor about his feelings with regard to his confession in the alley, only now Vic wasn't reacting quite like he'd hoped he would.

Oh God, Victor doesn't even know what I'm talking about. Shit, shit, SHIT!

Defying the inner turmoil he was feeling, Mac used what energy he had to maintain his calm visage. Removing the cloth from his face and tossing it aside, he looked up and directly into Victor's eyes before going on, "I meant what I said, Vic. I really am in love with you. I have been for quite sometime now."

Mac stared at Victor expectantly, waiting to see if the other man was going to say anything. When Vic didnt answer, merely continuing to stare at him with a dumbfounded, mildly horrified look on his face, Mac knew instantly just how grievous a mistake he'd made by pursuing this.

Victor felt his stomach slowly sink, as he tried desperately to think of what to say--of how to tell Mac he didn't reciprocate his feelings; especially since he was still clinging onto his relationship with Mulder.

Damn it, Why didn't I see this coming? How could have I been so blind to Mac's feelings? Victor chastised himself. He hadn't seen it coming because hed chosen not to. He had been perfectly willing to overlook those three little words that had been called out by a man half out of his head with pain and concussion.

How did Mac even remember that he'd said that?

Vic honestly wished he could tell Mac that he shared his feelings, and that he too loved him for more than just the friend and partner he was. He had no wish to hurt Mac's feelings, but he knew it would be better to tell him the truth, no matter what. Victor believed that it would do neither of them any good if he were to string Mac along and make him believe there was something between them when there wasn't. The only problem was, he had no idea how to go about telling Mac how he felt. In a last ditch effort to avoid dealing with the problem for just a little bit longer, Victor hedged, "Mac . . . um, I . . . I don't think this is a good time to talk about this. You're barely conscious and still knocked half senseless. We can talk about it in the morning."

Victor stood up suddenly and glanced at his watch. "Geez, it's six in the morning already!" he exclaimed, nervously. "I better go . . . now that you're not in any danger of slipping into a coma or . . . anything. I'll call you later on to see how you're f...feeling"

He gave Mac a tight smile before turning away and heading out the room. He was almost out the door when he was stopped by Mac's voice calling out weakly, "Vic, don't go. We need to talk about this. When Victor hesitated, Mac implored, Please, Victor," as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. "I won't be mad, I promise you."

Victor hesitated, frozen, his hand remained on the doorknob, as he seriously contemplated walking out. In the end, he turned around and went back over to the chair he had been sitting in and turned it around so that he sat straddling its back. Vic looked at Mac with eyes that were large and sad, begging the other for understanding. "Mac," Vic began gently. "I don't want to hurt you. You know that don't you?"

Mac nodded. "I know that Vic, but I have to know how you feel so just tell me and I'll never bring it up again." In actuality, Mac could already intuit by the way Victor was trying to avoid the subject that he did not reciprocate his feelings; at the same time, Mac still wanted to hear it from Victor's own lips, just to be sure. It was strange; Mac hadnt known he had a masochistic streak in him until now.

I must be the biggest sucker for punishment alive He thought miserably.

The look in Mac's big brown eyes broke Victor's heart. This was, without a doubt, going to be one of the hardest things he would ever have to do. Victor took a deep breath and began. "Mac, I love you too, but," he paused before continuing, delicately, "I love you like the brother I never had. You're my partner, my best friend, my closest confidante and I wish I could feel the same way about you as you do for me, but I can't." he swallowed hard. "I'm... I mean Mulder and I we've " Victor didn't know why he was having such a hard time telling Mac what was going between him and the F.B.I. agent. He took another deep breath before trying again. "You see, Mac, we've been talking to each other over e-mail, and before I picked you up last night to do the job, he phoned me, and you see... he... he misses me, as much as I miss him, and we've decided to try and make it work out after all... "

Mac had watched Victor's face change as he talked about Mulder; his features took on an almost dreamy, faraway look, and Mac found himself stricken with a heavy sense of envy for Fox Mulder and the hold he had on Victor. Mac knew that Victor had never looked like that when he talked about him or even LiAnn. The reality of the situation hit him and hit him hard. Now he knew for sure that Victor was still in love with Mulder, and he would never be able to compete with that. Mac's heart crumbled. He couldn't believe how foolish hed been not to see what was directly in front of his eyes the whole time; that he was in love with a man who so obviously loved someone else.

He had never felt more crushed in his whole life, even the time he found out LiAnn was engaged and had no interest in getting back together with him couldnt compare with the sting of how the way he felt right now.

After a while, Mac realized that he had been so lost in his own misery, that he had not heard a word Vic had said in the last few seconds. He shook himself out of it in time to hear Victor wrapping up.

"...who knows what will eventually happen? But we've decided to make another go of it." Victor smiled lopsidedly. "We're going to pretend that a long distance relationship will be actually more romantic and not a hindrance. Mac please." Victor leaned forward and asked, sincerely, "You understand don't you?"

Feeling very much like the blind idiot he believed he was and humiliated beyond words, Mac merely nodded his head 'yes', not trusting himself to speak. There was an awkward moment of silence, and finally wanting only to be left alone with his embarrassment over the whole situation, Mac managed to shake whatever it was that had rendered him mute and said to Victor in a rather cold voice, "I understand. Look, thanks for taking care of me last night. You're right, there's no need for you to stay. You can go now."

Victor looked to Mac; he absorbed the steely facade and realized that the hardness of his voice and the grim set to his lips was just a thin veneer to hide his hurt. He pleaded gently, "Mac, please . . . let's not end things this way. I...."

But before he could finish his sentence, Mac interrupted with a curt, "Look, I get it okay? You and Mulder are back together in mind and soul even if not physically. No need to explain it further. Really. I just think I've made a big enough ass of myself for one day, don't you? Victor, please, if you care for me even just a little bit, you'll go now and leave me alone so I can at least retain what little dignity I have left." Mac flopped back down on the bed and covered his eyes--eyes that stung with tears of humiliation--with his left arm.

Victor stood, leaning over to touch Mac's arm lightly, saying in a slightly choked voice, "I'll phone you later, okay?" When there was no reply, Victor glumly turned around and walked out of his best friend's bedroom.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Cursing himself for ruining what was probably one of the most important relationships in his life, Victor popped the top off his bottle of beer and took a long drink. Never in his whole life had Victor felt like such a heel. He sat on his love seat and covered his eyes, running the whole awful conversation through his head for the hundredth time, and then he groaned miserably. He could not get over how sad Mac had looked when hed told Mac about how he and Mulder were going to take another shot at their relationship.

Victor took another swallow of cold beer and realized suddenly how much he wanted, no, needed to see Mulder. He needed someone to ease his feelings of guilt and misery. Setting his bottle aside, he reached for the phone only to put it down again when a soft knock was heard at his door. Sighing, Victor stood up, walked the few feet to the door and peeked out of the peephole. When he saw who it was, he hurriedly undid all of the hardware and threw open the door wide, beaming at the person who stood on the other side.

"Hey, secret agent man, miss me?" Fox Mulder greeted him in a husky voice. He was carrying his travel bag in one hand and his cell phone in the other.

Victor grabbed hold of Mulder's wrist and pulled the man inside, slamming the door behind the FBI agent. Hed barely turned around before Mulder grabbed his shoulders and slammed him against the closed door, thrusting himself up against a thoroughly ecstatic Victor, capturing his mouth in a kiss so deep that Victor could've sworn that he could feel Mulder's tongue making contact with his tonsils.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mac awoke with a start. It took him a moment to figure out where he was; he felt oddly disoriented, and when his mind finally established that he was in his own bed in his own room in his own house, he sighed heavily. Too bad the events of the early morning had been real, and not part of the nightmarish images that had made his sleep disturbed and broken. He was amazed that hed been able to fall asleep at all after Victor had left, and now that he was fully awake, he decided to get up. He sniffed at his armpits and turned his nose up disdainfully at the lingering odour, deciding that he was in desperate need of a hot shower.

His need for a shower confirmed, Mac sat up very slowly and flung back the covers. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and once his toes hit the thick carpeting underneath he grabbed the night stand to pull himself up gingerly. His headache was still with him, but none of the nausea and dizziness of the night before remained. He walked to the bathroom slowly and flicked on the light before going in. Standing at the sink, he studied his reflection in the mirror, grimacing slightly at the sight of himself; underneath the bruises he saw his cheeks redden with the memory of the humiliation of the mornings events. He could kick himself now for pushing the issue with Victor the way he had.

How could I have been so stupid?!

Mac gave a snort of disgust at the mirror image of himself before turning to switch on the radio. He tuned into his favourite station and cranked the volume up so that he would be able to hear the music over the noise of the shower; climbing in, he adjusted the temperature to as hot as it could go without actually burning his aching skin. As he washed himself, he began to run ideas through his head on how to solve this tight fix he was in.

Mac figured his best shot, which would also be the most plausible, was to simply tell Victor that he only vaguely remembered bits and pieces of what he had said since he had been knocked on the head the night before, that he had literally been out of his mind as a result of his massive headache, or maybe he could even say that he had a very mild case of amnesia.

Yeah, Vic'll buy that. Why not?

It was a lie of course, but then Mac was an expert at spinning a believable web of deceit. The fact that he still knew very much where he stood on the subject and where Victor stood for that matter wasn't important. What was important was their friendship and he knew that if he wanted any hope of salvaging it, then he'd better feign ignorance and just let the whole thing go. It was the only way out of the difficult situation that Mac could see.

Shutting off the water, Mac grabbed his large, fluffy towel, and as he stood there drying off, Jewel's haunting, lilting voice came over the airwaves and began singing to him:

You took your coat off,
it started to rain
you were always crazy like that
and I watched from my window
I always felt I was outside looking in on you.
You were always the mysterious one
with dark eyes and careless hair
you were fashionably sensitive but too cool to care.
You stood in my doorway with nothing to say
besides some comment on the weather,
well in case you failed to notice,
in case you failed to see
this is my heart bleeding before you,
this is me down on my knees.
And these foolish games are tearing me apart,
and your thoughtless words are breaking my heart . . .
breaking my heart . . .

Mac paused in his drying; the words of the song brought on unbidden images of Victor that swirled through his brain. In his mind's eye, he saw:

Victor sitting upon a barstool, all alone in a pub full of people; a solitary and desolate figure, looking abandoned after LiAnn had broken up with him...

...Victor, with sweat diluting the blood from a cut above his eye, laying on a grimy bar room floor pleading with a former cop boss for his life...

...The look of fear in Victor's eyes as Mac reached out his hand so that Victor could pull him to safety from the top of the old apartment building when the burning rope that he had been clinging to had finally come apart

...Victor's eyes, pupils magnified by tears that had not yet fallen as he sat across from him, relating in a halting voice the litany of indignities he had suffered at the hands of a madman

Mac shivered as a cold chill came over him; he cleared his thoughts of Victor and reached out to snap the radio off brusquely. The words had hit a little too close to home for his taste. Tossing the towel on the floor, he exited the bathroom. As he dressed, all Mac could think was that he hoped he was not too late to fix this mess.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Mulder," Victor moaned as they separated from their passionate kiss. He held Mulder's face between his own warm, slightly shaking hands and looked searchingly into his eyes. He knew the emotions he saw in them, a heavy mixture of longing and lust, emotions which were probably reflected in his own. "I can't believe you're here. I was just thinking right now how much I wanted to hear your voice again."

"Then it's a good thing I showed up when I did, huh?" Mulder growled softly before raising his hands to grip Victor's fingers tightly.

Victor leaned back against the locked door and eyed his lover lasciviously, wondering what Mulder was going to do.

Letting go of Victor and using his fingertips solely, Mulder started to caress his way down Victor's hard, muscled arms, stopping at his lover's wrists to hold onto them tightly with his own hands. He gave Vic's wrists a firm squeeze and then capturing the other man's eyes with his own, slowly sank to his knees.

Victor was breathless with excitement as he watched Mulder fall before him.

Without breaking eye contact with Victor, Mulder grinned wolfishly and released the wrists he held, so he could undo the top button of Vics jeans. He flicked out his pink tongue and scooped up the tiny metal tab, bringing the captured bit of brass up to his lips and holding it firmly between his teeth. Then he began to pull it down with a deliberate slowness - releasing the small brass teeth one by one - seductively, increasing the level of anticipation for his lover.

Victor sighed heavily, squirming slightly when the zipper was finally opened. Mulder reached up to grip both underwear and denim, starting to pull them down. As every bit of soft white flesh was exposed, he grazed the bare spot with his tongue. He pushed the material down slowly until it finally reached Victor's knees. Mulder batted his eyelashes up at Victor one final time before settling his gaze from the other man's face to the view of creamy, smooth skin directly before him. Mulder stared at Victor's large erection and then inhaled deeply, adoring the dusky scent of his lover, a man whom hed missed more than he thought possible. Plunging forward, Mulder, in one fluid motion, swallowed Victor down whole from tip to root.

Victor moaned his pleasure at having his hardness engulfed by lips that were both sensuously full and incredibly warm. He raised his hands to Mulder's head and gripped the short brown hair firmly between his fingers, trying to urge Mulder to speed up his rhythm, though Mulder only grinned to himself happily as ignored Victor's urgings. He had been fantasizing about Victor and what he wanted to do to him all the time that hed been back in DC. Even on the plane trip here, he had been conjuring up fantasies of Vic. Hed been slowly building his own anticipation, and he was damn well going to take his sweet time to make sure his fantasies would be fulfilled.

After a few more minutes of painstakingly slow, deep strokes, Mulder increased his rhythm slightly. In response Victor accelerated the gyrations of his hips and moaned loudly, showing just how much delight he was drawing from the blow-job, and just as Victor thought he was going to cum, Mulder pulled his mouth away from Victor's throbbing penis without warning.

Victor's eyes popped open wide with surprise, but Mulder only flashed him a devilish smile. He was by no means finished with his lover, so he wasn't about to let Victor finish either. Mulder swallowed down his own index finger deliberately, wetting it thoroughly. He leaned in again and ran his tongue from the perineum to the base of Vic's cock before continuing to suck Victor the way he had been doing. It didn't take long for Mulder to get a good rhythm going again, and once he did, he used his slick finger to probe Victor's sensitive, tight opening.

After taking the time to ready Vic, Mulder sank his finger to the hilt and searched for the small walnut-sized gland, that when stimulated properly could drive a man wild with ecstasy. When he found it, he gave it a few good strokes.

He heard Vic's quick intake of breath and then listened as he mumbled almost incoherently, "Oh Jesus Christ, yesss."

Mulder knew that Victor would not, could not last much longer, so he brought up his free hand and wrapped it around Victor's weeping cock. Using hand, mouth and finger in carefully coordinated unison, he deftly brought Victor over the threshold. Vic thrashed and moaned as he sent his life's seed down his lover's throat. Mulder greedily swallowed all that Victor had to offer.

When Victor was completely spent, he reached down and pulled Mulder up off his knees. He hugged the man to his chest tightly. "Oh God, Mulder, I needed that," Victor murmured directly into Mulder's ear.

Mulder, in return, braced him back just as fiercely. "I could tell," he replied. Pulling back slightly, he looked Victor in the eyes again. Smiling lightly, he said, "Surprise. I'm back," and then he chuckled.

Victor blinked and beamed. "And am I ever glad for it too. Actually, I have to talk to you, but it can wait." He reached down and fondled Mulder's erection. Mulder hadn't had an orgasm and he was as hard as a chunk of granite. Victor rubbed his palm lewdly up and down the Armani-encased cock. He raised his eyebrows and grinned wolfishly, as Mulder had done earlier.

"Come to the bedroom, G-man, and I'll really welcome you back."

Victor grasped Mulder's hand and without waiting for an answer, pulled him in the direction of the bedroom, intent on showing the agent just how happy he was to see him.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The shrill ringing of the phone pulled Victor out of his late afternoon, post-coital slumber. He made a blind grab for the phone quickly, to prevent it from sounding again.

"Hello?" Victor croaked. His throat was so dry he could barely get the words out. In remembering how it got to be so dry, he couldn't help grinning. He raised some saliva in his mouth and swallowed, before trying again. "Hello?" he said, this time more firmly.

"Mansfield? It's me. We've got a situation. Get down here on the double!" said the Director's voice, in a tone that left no room for argument.

Victor looked over his shoulder at Mulder, who was lying awake on his back staring at the ceiling fan as if mesmerized by its slow, hypnotic movements. With his eyes fixed on Mulder, Vic grinned again before asking, "What's going on?"

"I'll fill you in when you get here," was the reply. The Director hung up without saying another word. Victor replaced the handset on its cradle and rolled over to gather up his bedmate so that they were face-to-face in his arms. Victor squeezed Mulder passionately and then told him softly, "I gotta go to the office for a few hours. You don't mind do you?" After he had spoken, Victor, giving into temptation, put his lips to Mulder's smooth neck and began to nibble on it, noting to himself that Mulder could use a shave.

"Mmm," cooed Mulder. "No. I've got somewhere I have to be anyway" He made a small sound of protest when Vic stopped what he was doing to look at Mulder in surprise.

"Where? I thought this was a...vacation...of sorts." Vic tried not to sound too disappointed at the thought that Mulder might be here working a case, and that visiting him was just a pit-stop.

"Well, officiallyon paper, that isI am on vacation, but the truth is, in addition too wanting to come to see you, I also got a lead on a..." Mulder hesitated, not sure of how much he should tell Victor of what he knew. He decided to skirt the main issue for now. "...off-the-record X-file I've been interested in."

"Oh." Victor paused then and asked in genuine curiosity, "An off-the-record X-File? What's it about?"

"I got a tip from an anonymous source that there appears to be a mass abduction site deep in the heart of Ontario's Algonquin Park," Mulder said, happily. He smiled apologetically at Vic and added, "Sorry slugger, I have an appointment to meet a couple of guides at the provincial park board here in town."

For a minute Victor thought Mulder was joking about the 'mass abduction site', but then after giving it more thought, and judging by the serious look on Mulder's face, he knew that this was no joke to Mulder at least.

"When do you have to be there?" Vic sat up and gave his scalp a lazy scratch. Mulder leaned over and picked up his watch from the night stand to look at the time. He met Vic's gaze and answered, "In an hour and a half. Damn. Vic, sorry. I wish I could've caught an earlier flight. But everything was booked up solid."

Mulder swung his legs over the end of the bed and stood up. Extending his hands high over his head, he gave his lanky body a much needed stretch.

Vic stood and did the same. With catlike stealth, he walked up behind Mulder, who was still stretching, and grasped the man around the waist. He bit Fox's earlobe gently and whispered, "Maybe we shouldn't have slept so much." Victor gave the small lobe another delicate nip and then moved his mouth from that sexy bit of flesh to work his way down the sensual curve of Mulder's neck. Peeking over the slightly taller man's shoulder, Vic saw that his soft bites and kisses were working to arouse his lover.

Mulder patted the backs of the hands that ringed his waist and turned around while still in Victor's grip, so that they were facing each other. He kissed Victor deeply on the lips, but before long, hed switched from Victor's mouth to his neck. Victor arched his head to the side, purring from the sensations he felt. Mulder bit Vic's shoulder hard enough to leave teeth marks, and while rubbing his erection over Victor's hard cock, he husked a reply to Victor's 'sleeping' comment, "Maybe we're just getting older, hmm? Were already in our 30's, Vic; we need more recovery time in between orgasms." After saying that, he bent his head back and continued to kiss the other side of Vic's neck.

Vic knew that Mulder was just kidding about the 'older remark. Adding his own jest to the conversation, he murmured, "Not older, G-man, just better . . . ooh yeah, right there!" Vic interrupted himself when Mulder found the exact right spot at the top of Vic's shoulder muscle and sucked on it. After a beat, Vic continued, "We're just getting better...."

Mulder finally pulled away from his merciless teasing of Victor's neck and shoulder. Kissing Victor deeply once more, he asked, "By the way, who was that on the phone. Dragon Lady?" Mulder reluctantly severed his embrace with Victor and reaching for his hand towed him toward the shower.

"Yeah. I have to go into the office. She claims there's some sort of a situation. I can drop you off to wherever you're heading on the way there though," Victor grumbled to Mulder's back as the two of them stepped under the shower's stream.

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Victor drove to the Provincial Park office and pulled over in front of the building. He glanced around quickly before reaching over and grabbing the back of Mulder's head to pull the agent into one last, lusty kiss, then released Mulder's head and ran his fingers through the other man's hair.

Mulder touched his slightly puffy lips with his fingers. He had been smiling, but then he dropped the smile and gave a Victor serious look. "Vic, in a few days I'll be back. And then, we need to have a talk. A very serious one. What I need to tell you may seem crazy, but I'll need you to listen carefully to what I'm going to say, Victor, and...and I'll need you believe me...." Mulder trailed off when he saw the look of confusion on his lover's face.

"Mulder, whatever you have to say, just tell me. No matter what, I will always believe you." After a pause, Victor added, "Trust me" more firmly. He prayed to God that Mulder wasn't having second thoughts and was trying to back out of their relationship again.

"Vic...," Mulder started but then stopped and hesitated as he wasn't quite sure how to tell Victor about all that he knew-about the possibility of an apocalypse on the horizon due to alien colonization that was almost inevitable. "There's a war brewing, Vic. A war that will be fought against creatures the likes of which you and most other human beings have never seen, let alone imagined. Scully and I are working to put a stop to the war, but I don't know if we will even make a difference. All we can do is try."

Mulder paused to gauge Victor's reaction. When nothing drastic was forthcoming, he continued. Look, I'll explain more when I come back, but for now please, just...promise me you'll keep an open mind," he implored. He had also planned on telling Victor about Krycek's visit to him late one night with the 'tip' he was 'interested' in, but he decided now wasn't the right time. I'll tell him when I get back

"All right. Sure, Mulder. Anything you ask." Victor was actually a little doubtful about Mulder's talk of an impending war brought about by strange creatures, but since it seemed so important to him, he decided to try to believe in what his lover was saying. "I'll keep an open mind." He promised.

"Good, then I'll explain everything on the return visit. Okay?" Mulder reached over, grabbed Victor and kissed him roughly but briefly. Releasing him, Mulder opened the truck door and grabbed his gear as he started to step out. He looked back at Vic, whose lips were set in a straight line of determination, before leaving the car.

"I only want to keep you safe, spy-guy," he added and then with a lopsided grin, confessed, "After all...I do love you." And with those words he shut the door and made his way to the park's office.

Victor watched his lover until he was completely out of sight, then he put the truck in drive and pulled out of the park office. As he drove on, he tried to think about other things, but his mind kept on wandering back to Mulder's ominous words about an approaching war.

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Victor gave Mac a call after dropping Mulder off to see if he wanted a ride into the Agency, and was surprised to find that neither Mac nor LiAnn had been called into work. Mac didn't like the sound of it at all. He believed that if there was a genuine 'situation,' like the Director had said, then she would have called the whole team in. Mac thought it smelled like a set-up, and Victor had to agree.

Once in the truck, Mac immediately set about burying the embarrassing business of the morning once and for all. He turned to Vic and said, "Look, Vic, about this morning...I'm really sorry I was such an asshole. Actually, I was hallucinating about LiAnn...that she was the one who was looking after me...and...well things just got really mixed up and you know...."

Victor nodded of his head, so Mac continued, "You know, Victor...II love you too, but it's like you said, were like brothers. Not only that, you're my partner and I trust you with my life." Mac stopped there and smiled. He thought that Victor was buying his whole story. Mac knew himself to be a good liar, a lifetime spent with dishonest, unscrupulous, and murderous thieves had shown him how to be truly great at it.

"I know, Mac," Victor said. "Look, it's okay. I understand. I'm sorry about this morning too. I should have known better than to get all worked up over the words of a delirious man." He laughed lightly and shook his head. Even though he knew Mac was lying, he played along to convince Mac he believed in his tale. Better to just let things go, he decided.

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Pushing open the doors, Vic led the way into the Director's large office. Mac followed close behind on his heels. Both men stopped still when they saw that as usual, the Director was nowhere to be found and plopped themselves down side by side in two of the three large black leather chairs to wait.

After a moment, the two men heard clicks on the wooden floor behind them, signalling their boss' arrival. Mac and Vic swung in tandem and came face-to-face with a very pissed-off looking Director. She narrowed her eyes at Victor and resumed slowly walking around behind the table, not once taking her steely glare off of the man. Only after watching the two men squirm in the uncomfortable silence for several minutes, did she finally speak up, "I thought I summoned you alone, Victor," she ground out, intentionally ignoring Mac.

Victor smiled nervously, glanced at Mac, and then said after clearing his throat, "No, I believe you said that we had a 'situation' and I was to get my ass down here as soon as possible."

Mac was amazed to see the Director narrow her glare even more. It was obvious she was completely pissed, and Mac could guess why. He and Victor figured that she had probably discovered the missing blackmail tapes. Both of them had hoped, however, that it would take her longer than a day to find out.

The Director, unimpressed with Victor's flippant attitude, looked at Mac and said to the silent agent, "Get out. You weren't asked to come in. Go home and put some ice on those black eyes. You look like shit." As an afterthought she added, "Fighting in the bars again?"

Mac sucked in his bottom lip and chewed on it briefly before saying, "Victor asked me to come." He shrugged his shoulders as if that should explain everything. He didn't dare to offer up an explanation as to how he got his bruises.

The Director looked from Mac to Vic and then back again. "Oh I see," she said with a smirk playing around her mouth. "It's like that, is it? Victor asked you to come with him, did he?" Her eyebrows rose in a silent question.

"Like what?" questioned Victor, not liking the implications the Director was making. "Just what are you suggesting?" His tone was deep and tinged with anger.

"I'm not implying anything, Victor. Why are you so paranoid?" The Director did not wait for an answer to her question but said instead, "I need to talk to you, in private, unless, of course, you want to air out your dirty laundry in front of Mac." She continued to glare at Victor, making a hmmph sound when he did not immediately answer.

Wisely Mac chose to be seen and not heard. Victor didnt seem to be afraid of the Director, but he sure as hell was. After another round of the staring contest between Director and agent, Victor blinked and said calmly, "Anything you have to say you can say in front of Mac. He's my partner. We have no secrets." Victor was not going to let the Director push him around anymore.

"All right. Fine." The Director shrugged as if it didn't really matter. "Last night someone broke into my office and stole some...surveillance tapes of mine. Surveillance footage of you Victor, to be exact. At first I thought it was random; you know, an agent gone bad, looking for the goods on me and the other directors, but I checked around, and it seems that I was the only one whose security was breached. So I said to myself, 'hmmm...'" the Director held her elbow in one hand and used the finger of the other to tap at her temple, "'...who would want to steal some videotapes with Victor on them? Well the only conclusion I can come too is...you." The director shook her finger at Vic as if he were a naughty child being reprimanded. "You stole my tapes, Victor, but now since you've brought your partner along I see that this little B&E was a tandem effort."

The Director suddenly slammed both of her hands flat on the tabletop in front of the men; the loud slapping noise made both of the men jump in their seats. "I want those tapes back Victor, and I want them back right now!" she bellowed into the agent's face.

Bravely, Victor smiled slyly at the Director and said. "I don't know what you're talking about. Last night Mac and I were in the bar drinking. That's how he got the bruises." Vic raised his palm toward Mac, who simply gave the Director a small half-smile. "We weren't anywhere near the Agency last night."

The Director wanted to slap the smirk right off of Victor's face, instead she turned to Mac and said, "Leave us. I want to talk to Vic in private."

Mac, not wanting to tempt fate again, stood and said to Victor, "I'll wait for you outside, okay?" Impatient for Mac to leave, the Director snapped, "Yes, Mac, I'm sure it's okay. Don't worry; I'm not going to shoot him. Or at least I don't think I am. Would you just go?"

Mac walked out of the room, and Victor watched him go, nonchalantly. He knew that now he was the one who held all the cards. If the Directord had another set of tapes of Mulder and him, she would not be so anxious to recover the missing ones. Victor figured shed probably meant to copy them but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

Too bad for her, he thought with satisfaction as he swivelled around in his chair.

The Director waited until the door was fully closed behind Mac before she spoke. "Look Victor, I know it was you who broke in here last night - you and judging by the guilty look on his face Mac." She stabbed her finger in the air toward Victor, "You think you've won, haven't you? Well you may have won this battle, but the war is far from over. Got it? If I ever find the proof that you were in here, I'll kill you myself. Capice?" Then, knowing that she had been defeated on this matter, she swallowed hard and said more gently, "Well, you're free to go, Victor. Leave the Agency if you want. I have nothing to hold you to us now."

Victor stood up suddenly and pushed his chair away with the backs of his knees. He was angry-angry that the Director had started this whole thing in the first place. "No, I won't resign - only because I still believe in what we're doing here is right, but I swear to God you had better keep the 'eyes and ears' out of my apartment and my private life from now on. You caught me unaware once, but it won't happen again. Believe me."

Victor took a deep breath, collected himself and then said calmly, "I'll be in Monday morning bright and early." And in a final display of rebellion, he puckered his lips and kissed the air, making a smacking noise. "See-ya," he called, as he headed for the door.

Once outside of the office, he found Mac, who was leaning against a post. Mac immediately straightened and went over to stand beside his partner. "Everything okay?" he asked.

Turning to Mac, Vic gave his partner a beautiful smile. A genuine smile, the first real one Mac had seen in ages. Victor's green eyes shone from the fluorescent overhead lighting. "Everything's fine, Mac. Just fine." Throwing a friendly arm over Mac's shoulder, Vic said, "Let's go get a beer and celebrate my freedom."

Mac added a cheery, "Yahhh" and then down the hall they went.

End

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