10

9:40 AM, January 14, 2010

Home of Victor Brant

Flack struggled to lift himself up, failed, and collapsed into the pillows with a groan. Pain shot through his body. He fumbled a hand across the bed weakly.

Victor caught his hand, squeezed it, and chuckled softly. He had been awake for a while now, simply watching Flack. He kissed the top of Flack's hand, murmuring, "Rise and shine, Donald Junior."

"I told you noth to cab me thab," came Flack's pillow-muffled protest. He snatched his hand away, used it to wipe saliva from the corner of his mouth. He turned his face from the pillow to squint up at Victor. "What the hell happened last night?"

"Well, it's better than 'who are you', I guess," Victor said. "You do remember me, don't you?"

"Yeah, Victor, I do," Flack grumbled, rubbing his bottom. "How could I forget anyone that hits that hard?"

"Mm, poor baby." Victor gave him a languid kiss. He pulled him closer, so Flack's head rested on his chest. "You sore?"

"You think?"

"I could put something on it, if you want."

"Again?"

"Not that," laughed Victor. He gave Flack a curious look. "Unless that's what you want?"

"Mmm, it would be ni-" Flack's eyes fell on the clock. "Holy shit! Is that the time?"

"That's generally what clocks tell, yes."

"Oh jeez, Mac's gonna kill me!" Flack exclaimed. He painfully sat up, and swung his legs down from the bed. "Where're my clothes? Shit!"

Victor, who had already dressed and showered before returning to bed to lounge with Flack, followed him. He helped him gather his clothes from around the bedroom, handing him the pieces. Flack pulled them on as he went. Suddenly, he stopped, swayed, and nearly fell. Victor caught him.

"Whoa, hey, what happened?"

Flack sank into a chair, holding his head. "I don't know. Everything started spinning all of a sudden." He gave his head a quick shake. "It was like that last night. I don't get it, I wasn't even drunk. I mean, I've been drinking a lot lately, but not yesterday. But I feel … weird."

Victor clapped him on the shoulder. "Probably a cumulative effect. Or fatigue. Here, I'll get you some water."

"Yeah, thanks."

Flack continued getting his clothes and dressing, going more slowly. He took a glass of water from Victor, drank it, and headed for the bathroom. He emptied his bladder and cleaned up as much as possible. He had no toothbrush, so he used a bottle of mouthwash. He opened the medicine cabinet for aspirin, but the shelves were completely empty.

"Hey, you don't get sick, or what?" he asked Victor once he was out of the bathroom.

"You looked through my medicine cabinet?" Victor asked in amusement. He was at the stove, cooking breakfast.

"Uh, yeah."

Victor shook his head. "I keep the aspirin in that cabinet over there." He pointed with a spatula. "I'm not in here much, so the rest of my medicine is in my office."

"Office? At the club?"

"No," Victor said. "I told you, I only freelance at the Eden of Desires. I do have a day job. Maybe we'll even meet in the real world sometime. Here."

Victor handed Flack a plate of fried egg and toast. Flack proceeded to eat on his feet. Victor smirked.

"Don't feel like sitting down at the table?"

"Don't feel like sitting down, period," Flack said honestly. "You know, this is the second day in a row someone has cooked for me. I usually do the cooking."

"Yeah?" Victor leaned on the counter, chewing the egg and ham sandwich he had put together for himself. "Who cooked for you yesterday? The guy you mentioned you were going to get together with? Taylor, was it?"

"Yeah, Mac," Flack said, pushing egg yolk around with his fork. A shadow crossed his face, but then it cleared into a lopsided grin. "You're a better cook, though. Almost as good as I am."

"Almost, huh? Well, I'm pretty rusty," Victor said. "I don't usually bother. My work keeps me busy. I eat on the go."

"Same here, when I'm on-duty. Like I'm supposed to be now."

Victor watched him wolf down the last of his food. "You'll choke if you keep that up."

"I'm good." Flack shoved the last of it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed it all down with his juice. "I gotta go."

Victor caught him by the arm. Flack started, looking back. Victor's grip was like a vice. He pulled him back to his side, slipping his other arm around Flack's waist. He gave him a fierce kiss that sent sparks of arousal shooting through Flack's entire body. He forgot everything for a moment, yielding to the burning closeness.

"Do you want to be with me?"

Flack raised his eyebrows, breathless from the kiss. "Wh- I-"

"Just tell me. Yes or no."

"I don't even really know you." Flack said weakly. "Before yesterday, I never even thought I would ever want to be in a real relationship with another guy. I still don't really, I mean-"

Victor kissed him again, pulling him impossibly closer. The layers of clothing between them felt dangerously flimsy. Victor turned him, and leaned him back over the counter. After his mouth left Flack gasping for air, he wrapped it around Flack's neck, biting softly. The tickle of his tongue just below Flack's jaw made him tremble.

"So," Victor huffed, bringing his face level with Flack's again. He brushed Flack's hair off his forehead, running his finger down his cheek. He pressed a thumb against Flack's bottom lip, slightly swollen from the force of the kiss. "Yes, or no?"

"All right, yeah," Flack gave in. "I do. I do want to be with you."

"Good," Victor murmured. His green eyes bore into Flack's, deep and unfathomable as the depths of a lake. "But I don't like my lovers serving two masters."

"What do you mean? You mean, Mac?"

"Yes. Mac." Victor took Flack's tie into his hand and tugged it lightly. "The one that first spanked you, right?"

Flack shut his eyes, mortified. He could not believe that he had spilled so much to a stranger last night. Even worse, Victor had apparently been paying close attention. "Yeah."

"Mac may have a professional reason to keep you on a tight leash-" Victor pulled the tie more firmly. "-but if you're going to be with me, that better be all the control he has over you."

"Mac is my friend," Flack said, his eyes hardening. "I respect him. That isn't gonna change just because we're having sex."

"Do you love him?"

"What?" Flack searched Victor's eyes. He was growing uncomfortable with Victor's hold on his tie, being bent backwards over the kitchen counter. "I could have loved Mac, yeah, but I didn't get the chance. I'm free to hook up with you, but if you think you're going to be more important to me than my friends, my job, then you're wrong."

Victor smiled, nodding. "That's all I needed to know."

Victor released Flack, moved off of him. Flack straightened up, hands gripping the counter. He was hot and aroused physically, but inwardly chilled. For a moment there, he thought that he had seen a coldness in Victor's eyes that he recognized: the steely glint of a man that had taken lives.

"What the hell, Victor?" Flack asked irritably. "What is this?"

"Sorry," Victor apologized blandly. "I get interested in seeing a person's response to certain situations. I can get carried away, test them. It's an old habit."

"So did I pass your damn test?"

"It isn't a school exam," Victor said. "But you're loyal, and honest. Most people aren't."

"I really gotta get to work."

"Fine," Victor said. He leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, watching Flack coolly. "But I did mean it about Mac. If he's taken, remember that he's taken. Don't let him pull that leash too tightly."

"No one has me on any leash," Flack said. "Not Mac, and not you, either. You remember that."

Flack threw on his coat, and left the apartment. Victor ran his tongue over his lower lip, then smiled.

"And you remember that that can always change, Donald Junior."

10:00 AM, January 14, 2010

CSI Building

The entire CSI team gathered for a case review after the Lazaro crime scene had been processed. All the evidence they had collected was being analyzed, and they were waiting on Sid's autopsy report. Mac stood before the computer monitors to address the room. Stella, Danny, Lindsay, Hawkes, and Adam sat at the conference table.

"First, I want to review the timeline as we know it," Mac said. "On January 12, Alan Fraser was murdered in his apartment, with TOD being approximately 9:45. Fifteen minutes later, a neighbor called in the disturbance. Units arrived on scene at 10:20. We were called in once the scene was secured, and we arrived around 11:00."

Mac brought up a picture of the second victim, John Lazaro, to the screen.

"At roughly 4:00 this morning, John Lazaro was murdered in his home," Mac said. "According to neighbors, a disturbance was heard in his apartment, but it was attributed to a television set or sexual activity, and hence not called in. Lazaro was found due to an anonymous tip, called in at 5:45 this morning."

"Making it about thirty hours between the two murders," Danny said. "On the one hand, that time frame fits with a spree. On the other, sprees are usually frenetic, random, and sloppy, whereas these murders are methodical to a fault."

"Not to speculate any more than necessary, but the pattern most closely resembles a mission-oriented spree," Mac said. "These murders could have been planned out months, even years in advance. Which means that the targets were all pre-selected, and anyone fitting whatever profile the killer is targeting could be on that kill list."

Mac changed the pictures on the screen.

"Now for the evidence, scarce as it is," he said. "This is the knife model used in both murders: an M9 Bayonet, the standard knife model issued to the US Army and US Marine Corps since 1984. Fraser's parents confirmed that he left all of his military possessions at their home in Florida, and had a neighbor check to confirm that Fraser's knife was not stolen. Therefor, the knife belongs to the killer, whether issued to him or bought from a civilian source.

"The restraints, on the other hand, are stolen," Mac continued, pointing them out. "The S&M fantasy club, Eden of Desires, confirmed that seven sets were stolen from them at the end of December. The cuffs have a custom design etched into the metalwork, which confirms that the set used to restrain Lazaro is the second of the seven stolen sets. Eden of Desires has strict security standards, but these were relaxed during the time of the robbery, due to an after-holiday rush of business and a security systems annual reboot. Given the timing of the robbery, it is highly probable that the suspect of the robbery was familiar with the operations of this club, and possibly is employed or has been employed there."

The door to the conference room opened, and they all looked back. Even Mac could not keep the shock from his face when Flack walked in. Flack's eyes widened a bit as he saw everyone gaping at him.

"Hey." He grinned nervously. "I miss anything?"

The CSI team's eyes all went immediately to Mac. A surge of pure fury overtook Mac, blotting out everyone and everything but Flack. Only the trickle of relief beneath it managed to keep him from acting on his first, rather violent impulse. His hands unclenched, and he collected himself.

"Have a seat, Don," Mac said tersely. "We were just going over the crime scenes."

Flack was baffled. "Crime scenes?"

Danny jumped to his feet. "Yeah, we got another vic. Come on. Sit down." He added, in a whisper into Flack's ear, "Before Mac freaking kills you, okay?"

Flack jerked, just now seeing the deadly gleam in Mac's eyes. He rushed into a chair, doing his best not to cringe when his backside hit the seat. Mac stared at him for a long moment. Flack's ears turned red, and he bowed his head, pretending it was to scratch his neck.

"This is the dog tag recovered from Fraser's apartment," Mac continued. "It's marked D3-AST, which-"

"Hey, yeah, I got something on that!" Flack interrupted.

The corner of Mac's mouth twitched. Danny rubbed his mouth with the palm of his hand. He would not be surprised if Mac threw him over the conference table and belted him a few good ones right there.

"This jerk guy at my precinct is a member of D3-AST," Flack said. "They're an anti-gay movement-"

"Aimed at forcing the homosexual community out of federal law enforcement agencies and the military," Mac finished. "Yes, we found that link, Don. Yesterday."

"Oh. Okay, cool."

Mac shut his eyes briefly. God, give me strength.

"The boot prints found at both scenes are a match to this military issue boot, size thirteen," Mac went on. He clicked through the photos on the computer screen. "The slush outside Lazaro's building froze this morning, preserving tire treads that belong to a 2009 Ford Fusion. There were reports of a dark-colored car left running outside Lazaro's building, just like the night Fraser was killed. We're currently running a cross search of D3-AST members and registered owners of a dark blue or black Ford Fusion."

One of the lab techs walked in with a folder. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. The lab staff had been in mourning for John Lazaro since Mac had announced his death. Danny took the folder, offered her some words of condolence, and then sat down, looking through it.

"Okay, now this is something," Danny said, his eyes racing through the words on the pages. "I swabbed the drains of the sink, toilet, and bathtub at Fraser's apartment the other day. There were traces of skin flakes, too degraded for DNA analysis, Fraser's blood, and another substance. MASPEC identified it as chloro, nitroquinoline. I identified it as something called Imiquimod, a prescription topical medication used for a variety of afflictions, including alopecia universalis."

Realization dawned in Mac's eyes.

"What the heck is that?" Flack asked.

"Alopecia universalis is a medical condition that causes a rapid and total loss of hair," Hawkes told him. "It's an autoimmune disorder that causes the body to attack its own hair follicles, suppressing or completely stopping hair growth."

"That could explain why not a single hair was found at either crime scene," Stella said. "It's extremely rare, with an incidence rate of only one in two-hundred thousand."

"Adam, I'm going to want you to see if anyone registered on the D3-ATS site has been treated for that condition," Mac ordered. "Nice work, Danny."

Mac's phone beeped. He checked it. "That was a text from Sid. The autopsy results are in." Mac looked around the room.. "Danny, Lindsay, I want you two to keep working on trace from Lazaro's scene. Stella, help Adam with his search, and call me the minute anything pops. Flack … come with me to Autopsy, please."

The team dispersed. Flack got to his feet, waiting while Mac turned off the computer and gathered his folders.

"Mac, I'm sorry I'm so late," Flack started. "I must have missed the alarm and-"

Mac held up a hand, refusing to look at him. "Not now, Don."

"But-"

Mac lifted his head. "I said, not now."

Flack was silent. Mac brought his things to his office, set them on the desk, and then headed to the elevators. Flack followed along with a dogged expression on his face.

"I know that you weren't at your apartment, Don," Mac said in the elevator. "I went to your home and let myself in to make sure that you hadn't died of alcohol poisoning."

"I wasn't drinking yesterday," Flack said. "Not much. I thought about it, went to McCullen's, but I quit after a couple."

"Really? And is that why the owner of the Eden of Desires Club reported that you were acting strange when you requested an appointment with one of their entertainers?"

Flack paled. Mac pressed the Emergency Stop button, and the elevator stilled.

"Stella and I went to the club to ask for-" Mac paused. He decided to keep his suspicions regarding Victor Brant to himself for the moment. "-more information. Edmund Ragno informed us of your late-night venture into S&M."

"Ragno's a pimp and a liar," Flack said weakly. "He's got a grudge against me."

"Save it!" Mac snapped. "Save it, Don! This is the third time you go missing in the middle of a case. The third time, Don! And where do you go? You go to a club we're investigating, to have a homosexual rendezvous with a sadist? Now? With all this going on?"

"So what?"

Mac blinked in surprise. "So what?"

"It was personal time," Flack said brashly. He was still smarting over Victor's comment about being on a leash. "I didn't have my badge or my gun. I was off-duty. What I choose to do with my life is my business, Mac. I was … off your leash."

"Off my leash? I don't have you on a goddamn leash, Don!" Mac yelled at him. "Sometimes, I swear, I wish I did, but I don't! But just because no one is watching you doesn't mean that you have to be so stupid! You could have been murdered, do you realize that? It could be you lying dead in your apartment instead of Lazaro!"

Flack shrugged, crossing his arms. He had the expression of a particularly difficult boy facing down his principal.

"It's got nothing to do with you or the case, Mac," he said. "You want to report me for missing a few calls this morning, go ahead, but I'm not gonna let you stand there and lecture me about the dangers of adult entertainment. Not you, of all people, all right?"

Mac was very still for a moment. Then, before Flack even saw the motion, he swung back and slapped him full across the face. Flack cried out in shock.

"Ah! What the fuck!" Flack rubbed his cheek, stunned. Mac took him by the shirt and slammed him against the elevator wall. Flack struggled diffidently. "Get off me!"

"I'm not going to lecture you about whatever distraction you're trying to bury yourself in now, but I am going to lecture you about Victor Brant!"

"Victor? What about him?"

"He's a suspect, Don!" Mac roared, shaking him. "We went to Eden of Desires to investigate him! That's why Stella and I were there this morning!"

"Investigate? Why?"

"Because he's registered on the D3-ATS website!" Mac said. "He works at the club that was robbed of the restraints used in two murders! He's a known sadist, he lives completely off the grid! Do you understand? You could have slept with him only hours before he murdered John Lazaro!"

"No way!" Flack protested. "No! I was with him the entire night!"

"Awake?"

"Well, no, but-"

"My God, Don! Have you even looked in the mirror?" Mac flipped Don around to face the reflective elevator wall. "Do you see your pupils? Didn't you feel anything last night? You were drugged!"

"I'm not fucking stoned!" Flack whipped around and pushed Mac. "Get away from me! What the hell is your problem?"

"What is yours?" Mac asked. "Don, I get it, you're in pain, I know that. But you're acting like- like-"

"Go ahead, say it," Don demanded furiously. "Like my sister. That's what you were going to say, right? So go ahead. SAY IT!"

"At least your sister never pretended," Mac said harshly. "Whatever she was going through, whatever pain she was in, she never denied it. She owned it. She took these risks, yes, but she never risked anyone or anything else. It's you, Don. You're risking not only your own life, but this investigation, the integrity of the NYPD, your job, and your friendships. You wanted so badly to be like your sister, Don? Did you? Well, congratulations, you're worse."

Don looked more stricken than when he had been slapped. His blue eyes welled with tears, and he heaved several deep breaths. His arm shot forward. Mac expected a punch, but he only hit the elevator button.

"Fuck you," Don said. "Fuck you, Mac!"

The elevator doors opened, and Flack rushed out. Mac stared after him until the doors closed again.

"Damn it." Mac hit the wall, and then repeated the gesture several times. "Damn it!"

"Are you all right?"

Danny looked up from his microscope. "Huh?"

Lindsay continued looking at her evidence, piecing it together. "You've been quiet the last couple of days. Is it the case?"

"Well, yeah, obviously," Danny said shortly.

"I didn't mean it that way," Lindsay said softly. She looked at him. "Hey, this case has pissed us all off. I didn't mean that you would be more upset by it just because you were, you know-"

"Gay?" Danny provided. He stood up from the microscope, rubbing his eyes. "Well, I am gay. It's not that I 'was', Lindsay. I'm bisexual, always. It doesn't go on and off like a switch."

"Okay."

Danny put his glasses on. "Listen, Montana, we have to talk. There's something I need to-" His phone rang. "Hold on."

Danny answered his phone. A frown creased his face as he listened. He glanced at Lindsay, and then moved to the other side of the lab. Respecting his obvious need for privacy, Lindsay continued with her evidence.

Danny was pale and dazed when he returned to the table. He stared nowhere for a moment. Then, he put his glasses back on.

"What was it?"

Danny looked at her, through her. "Nothing," he said hollowly. "I … I have to … I have to go find Mac."

Danny rushed from the lab, not even noticing Lindsay's pained expression. He recalled that Mac had gone to Autopsy, and so he headed there. He bounced on his heels in the elevator, willing it to go faster.

Once in the ME's territory, Danny broke into a run. In fact, he ran straight past Mac, who had been walking towards the elevators. Mac turned on his heels, snatched Danny by the sleeve.

"Danny? Danny!"

Danny turned around, ready to break away, but stopped once he saw Mac. Mac pulled him closer, alarmed. "What is it, Danny? What happened?"

"Mac, it's my family," Danny said. "No, don't worry, they're not hurt. Can we go somewhere more private than this hall?"

Mac put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the freezer storage. It was cold, but empty for the moment. Mac lowered his hand, but kept it on Danny's arm.

"What happened, Danny?"

"They've been getting phone calls," Danny said. "My family. They ignored them at first, but after they heard about these possible hate crimes on the news, they decided to tell me. Someone has been calling them and insulting me. They … They've asked my parents if they know what 'disgusting' things I've been up to- with you."

"Me?" Mac frowned. "That makes no sense. We only came out to our friends, and we haven't even been together in the past two years. Everyone has seen you with Lindsay."

"I know," Danny said. "I'm going to see if I can get any more information on the calls at all when I get back up to the lab. My parents know to take threats seriously, though. They wrote down the contents of the calls, and they're sending those notes over. Get this, the caller never left a message, he kept calling and calling. They're afraid to pick up the phone, want to get the number changed. But what if this guy knows where they live, Mac? How did he even get their number? They aren't listed."

"Danny, I'm more worried about the killer knowing where you live," Mac said. "This is new. Fraser's parents didn't get any calls, but they live in Florida. Lazaro's people are in New Mexico."

"You think I'm this freak's next target?" Danny asked. "That he's harassing my family as a warning?"

"We can't jump to conclusions, but we can't be too careful, either," Mac said. "I'll make sure local patrols keep an eye on your family. As for you, I don't want you going anywhere outside this lab alone."

"I don't plan on it," Danny said. "Why my family, Mac? Why are they trying to out me to them? I've never even told them, Mac. Now they're asking me all kinds of questions. What am I going to tell them?"

"Maybe you should tell them the truth."

"What?" Danny hopped up to sit on one of the metal tables. "Don't Ask, Don't Tell Taylor is actually telling me to come out the closet?"

"Danny, would you do me a favor?" Mac requested. "Don't ever, ever call me that again, please?"

Danny smiled. "Can't say I'm not happy to hear that. Changing your policies, Mac?"

"Danny, I've never thought I was right about much," Mac said. He hoisted up to sit beside Danny on the table. "The law is usually black and white. Even with extenuating circumstances, the laws are set, and they are either followed or broken. There is a system in place, and although it isn't perfect, it's there. When it comes to love, however … People like to think that there are rules. The Bible, the Koran, the Torah, all the religions and philosophies, hundreds of millions of systems intended to govern love and emotion, and yet every day someone pens another, while someone else loses faith in their particular system. The heart is ungovernable."

Danny nodded, putting his hand over Mac's.

"The consequence of that is that we don't always fit into the systems those around us believe are right," Mac said. "So some of us hide our differences, while others embrace them. Some use them as a weapon to fight against the systems that govern their life. I always thought that hiding the aspects of my life that would be perceived as flaws would be the most honorable choice. I thought that I was making a noble sacrifice: sparing my parents the battle of trying to accept a son so radically different from their image of what their son should be, not complicating my military career, protecting my lovers from scrutiny."

"And now?" Danny asked. "You don't think you made the right choice?"

"There is no right and wrong in these cases," Mac said. "I made the only choice I thought that I could. I made the choice that worked for me at the time."

"But this case has given you doubts?"

"No, it didn't start with this case," Mac said. "I suppose this case has only brought those doubts back to the surface. Chief among those doubts is that I missed an opportunity with my parents. They loved me, or loved the son they thought they had. For better or worse, I never gave them the chance to love the son that they actually had."

"Do you think they would have?" Danny asked. "Loved you as you actually are, I mean?"

"I don't know," Mac replied. "That is my biggest regret: never finding out."

"But could you have stood it if they hadn't? Wouldn't it have destroyed you?"

"It would have hurt," Mac said. "I won't say that it wouldn't have cut me to the core. But I would have known. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do." Danny squeezed Mac's hand. "I just don't know if I could survive it. Having my family look at me like I'm from another planet or something. Knowing they're thinking of how I'm sinning my way into Hell. Ruining their dreams of my finding a wife and having kids."

"We could have kids."

Danny gaped at him, and laughed. "We that serious already?"

Mac's ears turned red. "I, ah, I only meant that if we were together, it would be possible. Plenty of homosexual couples have children. You know that."

"I do." Danny scrutinized him. "You'd do that? Raise my babies with me?"

"Your babies?" Mac repeated with a chuckle. "And what makes you think I wouldn't want to have one with my own DNA?"

"Would you?"

Mac slid down from the table. "You're digressing, Danny. Come on. Focus." He took Danny by the hips and pulled him down from the table. "We have to get back to work on this case and solve this thing. Once that's done, we can figure everything else out."

"I guess I'm just trying to think of the future as much as possible, now that I know we have one."

Mac opened his mouth to protest, but it died in his throat. After the harrowing confrontation with Flack, after being immersed in fear that he could lose Danny at the hand of this hate-filled murderer, he could no longer sustain his wounded pride. Even the strongest logical minds had their breaking points.

"We do have a future together?" Danny asked, reading Mac as he always did. "Don't we?"

The mind was a traitor. It doubted at the happiest occasions, wept at the most ridiculous, laughed at the darkest hours. Mac's mind assaulted him with the memory of the moment Danny had confessed his affair to him. It brought back in perfect detail the way his heart had tightened, his breath catching in his throat. At the time, he had thought that he was having a heart attack. A part of him had almost wanted to die.

Even with these thoughts running through his traitorous mind, Mac's heart ached for Danny. His body reacted before either mind or heart could intervene. He took Danny's face into both hands and kissed him. It was hesitant and chaste, but still felt as if he were a dehydrated man taking his first sip of water. Giving Danny a second chance could very well be the worst decision of his life, but he knew that he would never regret this moment.

Mac drew back, and rested his forehead against Danny's. Their eyes met, blue and green, each glistening with more feeling than could be expressed in speech.

"We do have a future," Mac said, sounding more certain than he felt. "If you want it. With me."

Mac realized that Danny had matured since their breakup. His face was largely unmarked by time, but his eyes had a depth that had not been present before. The intensity was not only reckless, youthful passion, but a long-burning flame.

"I want it," Danny said simply. He embraced Mac fully, resting his chin on his shoulder. With nothing in his voice but honesty, he said, "I love you, Mac."

Mac rubbed his back, soaking in the feel of him. Discovering the feel of him had been a thrill the first time, and rediscovering him was doubly enthralling. Whatever dark corners of memory his mind had turned to, his tactical memory now filled his brain with its own remembered sensations. He could feel the familiar curve of each bone through Danny's shirt, and his nose filled with the scent of cheap shampoo, aftershave, city air, and Danny's natural smell.

"I love you, too, Danny."

Mac pulled back, holding Danny at arms' length.

"Let's go and wrap this case up," Mac said. "I want to start in on this future. It won't be easy, but … it's all I've ever had."

Danny smiled broadly, his eyes moist. "Yeah." He hit Mac's shoulder affectionately. "Yeah. Let's do this."