This is relatively short compared to other chapters. I could have made it longer, but the information provided seemed sufficient...at least, for now.

~*~*~Chapter 9: Art of Deception~*~*~

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It was all Baird could think of as his fingers dug into Marcus' skin, anchoring the man to him. Even so, he began to sense the familiar cold that washed over his body. It lurked on the edge of his thoughts, reaching with terrifying noxious talons from deep within his mind. It had confidence that It would breach any feeble mental defense he constructed.

He fought It off as a shuddering breath slipped from him, his heart thundered against his chest. His sallow skin showed his panic as Hoffman merely continued to watch the two of them. His parched throat hindered speech as he tried to devise a sufficient explanation to what Hoffman had seen. It would serve to help stave off Its encroachment as well.

Explanation Numero Uno: Marcus had been feeding him medicine. With his mouth. Due to Baird being too exhausted to do it himself…

But apparently not too weak for you to thrust your tongue just as eagerly. Just as frantic as when you were locked away…remember?

Baird shook his head viciously as the image slipped into his mind, trying to rid himself of the voice that spoke. He was breathing faster now. It had never spoken to him before and he had recognized it in abject horror.

The voice was his voice…but it was more heinous, laced with lethal amounts of contempt and hatred. It crept ever closer, laughing in derision.

Shit.

What about…Hoffman being too drunk out of his mind and imagining things? The man hit the sauce a little too hard sometimes…

Yes. Antagonize him. Anger him. Become irrational. Project blame onto others when you are at fault. Like you did in his office.

Concentrating became difficult as It began to overtake his consciousness, dizziness spreading as the memory surfacing of Baird screaming at a Hoffman preparing to sentence him. He shivered in terror as a glazed look overtook him, It consuming any possible hope he wished to thwart Its intent. It was merciless in Its venture….and knew it.

Then…then they were simply two men who had been denied carnal pleasures for too long. Their ill-concealed animosity towards one another led them to a simple arrangement of using each other-

These tears that you now shed are not due to any abhorrence towards me. It interrupted mockingly, the worst part of It materializing. You did not loathe my presence as you shielded me from the onslaught of bullets. As you bled out for me.

He tried to move and realized that he was paralyzed by fear. Baird whimpered as his vision began to cloud, his heart pounding in distress. He had adverted It when Cole hounded him, but he knew that he would be unable to do so this time.

I will always be here, Damon. It sighed almost longingly. You will never escape me.

His vision failed him as felt his awareness slipping away, It clawing him to the depths of his subconscious. His body fell backwards as his motor functions failed. He didn't feel it himself hit the bed hard and bounce from impact.

Embrace me.

Tender whispers coaxed him to rouse, the voice inappropriately intimate. He lamented aloud as he placed the voice belonging to It. All It wanted to do was toy with him, disturb him worse now that he was in It's domain. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing but impervious blackness where It dwelled.

He could do nothing but breathe unevenly, immobilized even though he attempted to stir.

The loving tone then began to plead. He barely registered a touch as It's words became coherent yet sounding distant.

"Damon. Fuck, Damon. Don't do this."

Why? He wanted to howl. Why are you torturing me? Don't I fucking deserve happiness? What the fuck have I done but exist?

"Damon, please…I want to help."

Help?! A maniacal laugh wanted to erupt from him. It subsided as he whimpered. Is that why you're doing this? Because we both know that there are others who have died who should have lived? Those who could have replaced me and made the world a better place? Or that there will be those who will die when it should have been me?

"Damon…I can't. A lot of people have died and I…..I was able to keep going. But if you…I won't be able to. Fuck… I can't."

No…you won't. He tried to mumble. Because if I die, then you cease to exist. I would have thought you would have wanted me to live in constant fear until the next time one of these intermittent episodes happen.

"I need you. Just like you need me. I won't be able….I won't be able to.."

I don't need you! A terrifying shriek erupted. I hate you! I fuck-ing HATE you.

It's voice continued ever so soothing or appealing. Such a disgustingly deceitful ploy. It's voice had just recently manifested and it knew exactly which heartstrings to pluck to cause him pain. But what if it wasn't?

Baird decided that he was content in not knowing, surrendering himself to his bleak existence by staying silent, slowly suffocating with oppressive thoughts. Isn't it better to give in than fight It, an inanimate construct he had no hopes of conquering?

The urgent sputtering refused to cease, even though the words became intelligible. The darkness began to cede from his sight as it increased in fervor. He could feel the voice to his side, felt its breath cascade against him as something else squeezed him.

His vision opaque but slowly becoming clear, he found himself intently listening to the voice enticing him closer. If this was simply a ruse, Baird decided he would suffer what would come. The gentle sounds weakened him immeasurably. They reminded him of the one who he allowed to have all of himself, something he wouldn't ever consider to be a mistake.

As Baird became more aware, he realized he was staring at the ceiling of his hospital room. His respirations came hard and fast. Someone spoke in his ear so he tilted his head their way to listen. The simple action alerted him that he could move. His hand was held in another, so he pressed his fingers against it.

The voice stopped speaking. He wished to protest, but wouldn't trust his mouth to open. Fingers pressed against the side of his face, turning him until he saw those haunted blue eyes. The fingers on his face stroked him in a calming manner and he felt his heart slowing to its normal rhythmic pattern, breathing evening out.

A small puff of air came from Marcus' lips, one that Baird interpreted as a grateful sigh. He tried to smile, but it fell short as his mind began to catch up with the rest of his body. He remembered It, the words spoken, and the reason why It had emerged triumphant over his mind.

Marcus must have caught that he was beginning to recall what had happened and anticipated the reaction. He prevented it by speaking, "Damon. Listen to me. Look at me."

The edges of his lips tugged as he took in his Sergeant. He had no doubt that Marcus would do anything to ensure their escape. Baird tried to move his head to view Hoffman, but Marcus kept him firmly in place to only gaze at him.

"What do you want?" A hard tone greeted the other individual in the room. "You can speak from there." It was an order that bore scarcely restrained hostility.

"What happened?" Hoffman sounded sorrowful to Baird, though his voice was as gruff as ever.

Marcus' demeanor changed then. His eyes narrowed a bit as they flicked towards Hoffman temporarily. His jaw tensed as he clenched his teeth, the sight of them barely showing. "I don't know." He growled menacingly. "But I do know why this happened. Telling us why you're here will help."

Baird noted that he didn't add Or make it worse which was a very real possibility.

"In my defense, I knocked a few times before using my passcode." Hoffman eyes still upon Baird. If Hoffman even thought about pampering him…

"Now that you're in, what do you want?" He repeated, making sure that his tone revealed that he wouldn't ask again.

He chose his words carefully. "I've…I guess I could say that I've known about you two since Gale."

Marcus slowly stood then, stretching himself to his full height, free hand on his hip. A paragon of strength was shown to Hoffman as he stared upon a man with his lips pressed thinly together and his gaze holding serious intent, underscored with fearlessness. His gash only added to his ominous presence. His hand though never left Baird. He gently stroked his thumb across his fingers as he glowered at the Leader of the Coalition.

"How?"

Fear threatened to seize Baird's heart as he set his eyes upon Hoffman, who stood with his arms behind his back. Since Gale? How would he have known about them then? Had rumors circulated that he just hadn't heard? Did Hoffman merely need to catch them in the act before he ordered them before a firing squad? Why would he wait though? He sounded as if he had proof…

Hoffman didn't appear to be threatened by Marcus' tone but he did seem agitated. "Two particular letters crossed my desk, brought to my attention by the COG Security Board. One from each of you. Both were addressed to different persons. I had thought to have them resent. I didn't think there would be anything of value in them. But the Security Board don't half-ass their jobs."

Baird swallowed hard. The Security Board had many roles, one of which was to review random mail for any potential threats or divulging of secrets. He had thought their chances of being caught were slim: one in a thousand. He clenched Marcus' hands tighter and felt a reassuring squeeze.

"In looking them over, it was clear that the contents were amorous, one subtle and the other obvious. Not only that, it became apparent that this was simply a clever stunt for a few reasons. See, the recipients didn't make sense. It's known that you, Fenix, have had relations with Stroud but haven't acknowledged it among Gears. I thought it was between the two of you first, but I realized there wasn't any reason for Stroud to refrain from writing you herself." He hesitated, turning cautiously to Baird. "But the relationship between Cole and you, Corporal, is nothing similar. You're friendly, but not that friendly. Not like what was in that letter."

He began to pace slowly, hands still clasped behind his back. "Not to mention that there was information within those letters for it to be a coincidence. Fenix's letter to Stroud seemed to be a response to that of Baird's letter to Cole." Hoffman forged on, not willing to let them deny it. "Now, finding this out was….let's just say surprising, since I had thought the two of you barely got along."

Marcus' eyes were still on Hoffman, though they seemed to close fractionally to scrutinize the man. Baird did the same. Why did they need this backstory when Hoffman had just caught them eating each other's faces? To assuage a guilty conscience perhaps?

The Chairman continued with his anecdote, halting before them, taking in both of them. "I'm not a damn fool. I wasn't going to confront either of you without more evidence. So I called both Cole and Stroud into my office." His face scrunched up at the memory, looking gravely annoyed as he growled, "Cole stated that he had no fucking clue what I was talking about when I asked if you two were an item. When I showed him the letter, he laughed and told me that you were trying to embarrass him. He then told me he didn't feel right prying into Fenix's and Stroud's business."

Baird carefully cleared away any expression from his face. He didn't want Hoffman to see the guilty feeling that would have flashed across it as he remembered how he treated Cole. Fuck, Cole had protected him and not told him. And he had treated him like that…

"As for you Fenix, Stroud stated that's how you always were. She said that the letters being alike were unintentional."

Anya protecting him made Baird feel even worse. After having denounced her to Marcus, stating that she had the most cause to create rift between them. He chanced a glance and saw a questioning look pass his eyes not aimed towards him. What was he thinking?

"I was going to leave it at that—"

"Why didn't you?" Marcus gravelly interrupted.

"I was about to tell you, Fenix." Hoffman matched the Sergeant's hard gaze. Seeing something in his eyes, he added as if in afterthought, ""Don't say something you may regret, Sergeant."

"Nothing I say I will regret." Came the biting response.

"Marcus." Baird chided sharply, irritation evident. It didn't escape him that this was the first time that he had scolded Marcus and promptly kept him quiet, albeit suffering from a cool gaze due it. He didn't know how to convey it to him. Something within Baird's vast storage of infinite wisdom was telling him—both of them—to keep quiet and listen.

Hoffman watched the interaction with an eyebrow raised, a smug look gracing his features. "As I said," he advanced, tone lighter. "I was going to leave well alone. Except, we're in a Post-Locust phase. Fenix's letter reminded me that there are a lot of Gears who have been together and want to be together, but can't because of that damn Officer/Infantrymen Fraternization Code. I decided to start the process to revise it, but wanted to give Fenix and Stroud a chance to do something they should have done a long time ago."

"That sounds like you gave them a choice in what to do." Baird stated edgily, remembering what Marcus had told them in the Acanthus. He then remembered Marcus coming in after Baird after he had been told that he would be donating his sperm. "From what I hear, it was more like coercion."

Hoffman raised a hand in admission. "Not one of my finer moments. I sincerely thought that Fenix was being stubborn enough to match you, Corporal. I had no clue that he actually didn't want to do it. Keeping him out of work seemed the best way to take away all of his options and do what he wanted—what I thought he wanted."

His lover had closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The muscles in his jaw twitched as his body stood rigidly imposing. No doubt about it…He was pissed.

"You'll want to hear what I say. Both of you." Hoffman emphasized, staring at each of them in turn, catching Marcus' demeanor. "I didn't come to originally talk about this. I came to find out the Corporal's prognosis and to reveal some news. To my surprise, I was stopped by Hayman who insisted that I, the Chairman of the COG government, leave a message to speak to one of my men." An amused smirk crossed his face. "At first, Corporal, I thought it was your smart-ass trying to get out of that talk we're going to have."

Baird heaved a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes. "Too much to ask for you to forget that, huh? After all that's happened to me, you're content with having me suffer more?"

He caught Marcus' wondering gaze, an easy smile gracing his lips.

Going to have referenced the future. Any foreboding that Baird held within him drained away. Nothing was going to happen to him. He didn't know how he knew, but he could feel it. An enjoyable peace of mind encompassed him and he allowed it to flow within his eyes in order for his lover to see it.

A dark look flashed through Marcus and Baird realized that he might have misinterpreted his serene state as simply ceding defeat. He let his laughing eyes deter him from any thoughts he might be having. No person who accepted death would laugh.

"You're trouble incarnate, Baird. Someone has to keep you in line."

The hand holding Marcus' moved to touch the man standing beside him. Baird noted his relaxed posture. "That's his job."

A smile threatened to overtake the Chairman. Baird could have sworn he heard him say Never would have thought…

"I could have guessed with what he said at the Registrar's office. Not to mention that Hayman told me that it was Fenix who had placed those stipulations on you. It solved another problem of mine: Finding out where the hell you went, Fenix, after Baird collapsed."

A stillness filled the room as no one spoke. Baird licked his lips nervously as Marcus assessed Hoffman.

"And?" His sea colored eyes held a latent threat.

"I doubt anyone likes being lied to. Especially about something like this." He motioned in the air, taking in the two of them. "I understand that Prescott held some beliefs about it, especially since we were facing extinction, but there's no reason to hold onto it now. That's why the revised Code would allow same-sex relations instead of criminalizing them. "

The last statement enabled Marcus to fully unwind, resettling in his seat next to Baird. "You're not getting an apology." He groused, though his menacing tone had subsided.

"I think you can understand why we weren't so open about it, Hoffman." Baird scoffed suspiciously, taking his cue from Marcus. "Seeing as what happened to that Rook."

Catching Hoffman's confused face, Marcus asserted, "Presumed homosexual young adult. Beaten and burned with COG tag still around his neck. You were the last to see him. Ring a bell?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Hoffman's demeanor devolved into a furious one. "I can't believe that rumor's still going. I didn't kill that Gear Cailen and I wouldn't for something as damned idiotic as him wanting to sleep with men."

He placed his hands on his hips, his tone softening in a remorseful one after a few moments. "That kid was a fresh recruit from Stranded territory. He was supposed to patrol inside COG territory. His body was found outside COG parameters. The consensus is that he had enemies from his time outside or a Stranded gang realized he used to be one of them, felt he sold out, and took him out after getting him to meet them. But I honestly don't know what happened to him except that I didn't kill him."

Baird didn't know what to make of it. He didn't know Hoffman well enough to know if the man told the truth. He looked towards Marcus to see what read his assessment of Hoffman. His lover was considering Hoffman as well and a small downturn of his head told him what he needed to know.

Truth it was then.

"Any more accusations you want to throw at me?" His voice sounded tired. "I know that I didn't handle this situation as delicately as I should have."

"You were about as delicate as a mine field." Baird pestered which received a grunt of agreement from Marcus. He threw a quick glance towards his Sergeant. Something was bothering him… "But now that you mention it, there is something."

"Which is?"

Marcus awaited Baird's disclosure with apparent curiosity, his head tilted his way as he kept his gaze on Hoffman. Always alert in case if something happens… Baird fondly thought.

"Why'd you force me to enlist?"

He didn't need to elaborate. In his peripherals, he watched his lover tense while his breath caught. His lax grip tightened.

"I'm glad you brought it up, because it's what I wanted to talk about." Hoffman sighed, rubbing his eyes with a hand. "If you two had told me what you were, I wouldn't have ever done it."

As accusatory glowers flitted Hoffman's way, he defended, "I'm not blaming you. I'm just saying it would have helped and I understand why you didn't come forward. I also wouldn't want to put anyone in this predicament, including your sarcastic ass, Baird. But you were one of the most viable candidates and since your name constantly kept passing my desk for it, I thought you wanted to do it.

When I finally give you the time off you were bitching about to have you do it, thinking that that's the reason why you wanted the time off, you refused. I thought this was another one of your asinine games so I ordered you to do it."

Baird glared at him fiercely. "I'm not that fucking bad that you have to assume that every damn thing is my fucking fault." He seethed. It was getting aggravating for his hero boyfriend to escape blame with a near stainless reputation while Baird kept getting dragged through the muck. He wasn't jealous, but being condemned for no reason at all or falsely accused takes its toll.

He admitted to himself that it wasn't that far-fetched for Baird's name to be volunteered for it. But fuck either someone really wanted his babies or they were running short on intelligent persons. He wanted to ask if Marcus' name had appeared as well, but that wasn't information that he was privy to.

The man who owned the hand clutching him possessively ground out, "Yes you are." It was barely audible.

Baird's head whipped to the side, his scowl intensifying as his ears burned. "Whose side are you on?"

"Yours." Was the response. "Always."

"Doesn't fucking feel like it." Baird avoided his tender gaze, the flush warming the rest of his body.

They both turned to Hoffman as he chuckled at them. "I don't know how I missed it."

"You should probably focus on running the government that we're trying to survive in rather than if we're fucking or not." Baird harassed, his sneer returning. He couldn't help but react this way to Hoffman. "We wouldn't want any more fuck-ups, would we?"

Hoffman didn't take the bait as Baird had wanted. "Well, one of my fuck-ups produced something. Maybe you don't want to know. Maybe you want to. Since it seems that Marcus knows about it, I feel like it's my duty to inform you both. There has been a successful impregnation."

All the breath left Baird then as his eyes widened. That wasn't something he had planned. It was something that he wanted to talk to Marcus and find out his feelings about, but he didn't actually think anything would come to fruition. He had even hoped that he would be similar to Anya.

Marcus' hold on him loosened and Baird angled his stare away from both of them, not wanting to see view Marcus. "Why the fuck would I want to know that?" He expressed faintly.

"Because I've been told that though she is soon to enter her second trimester, the pregnancy may be a troubled one." Baird closed his eyes as Hoffman continued. "It's best if you prepare for the worst possible contingency, whatever that may be."

Breathing deeply and gritting his teeth, Baird mustered the most cutting glare at Hoffman's direction. "Remember what I said about fuck ups?" He didn't await an answer. "This—what's happening right now—is another one."

"Sorry to hear that." Hoffman's disposition showed repentance, but unwavering commitment. "I've been filled in by Hayman already. I had thought that you would be fit for duty after enough R&R. But after what just happened, consider yourself temporarily relieved of duty until further notice."

"Like hell-" Baird began, a flurry of curses on his tongue.

"That is an order, Corporal." Hoffman barked loudly, bypassing the fury etched on Baird's face. "You're a damn genius, but you still don't get it?! We can't afford to lose one goddamn valuable resource! That includes Imulsion, land, water sources, and people. I have been notified that without your expert help, the rebuilding of Azura and the Maelstrom wouldn't be coming along as fast as it is. That means I need you to be functioning at full capacity, not barely operating as the reports have shown lately."

Frustrated eyes settled on Marcus as Hoffman struggled to rein in his voice. "Fenix, it is clear that you are the only one who can tolerate Baird for any length of time. With that being said, your new assignment is to oversee the restoration of health of Corporal Baird. Effective immediately. Know that this assignment is a grave one: he is not to be performing any actions besides what will be outlined by Hayman. Is that understood?"

"I don't need your permission to do that."

"Then we're crystal clear of how this will affect you down the line."

"I don't need a fucking chaperone!" Baird hissed, his anger nearly boiling over. "He has a job to do which entails protecting people-a valuable resource-not just me."

"And he will perform that duty in company with looking after you. Fenix, I expect weekly reports on his health as well as any improvements."

"I'm not a fucking doc, Hoffman." Marcus stated, words laced with venom.

"I don't need you to be one. But even I can see that you are necessary for his future recovery." Hoffman paused as if to say something more, then thought better of it. "Sergeant. Corporal." He dismissed in a hard tone and exited the room.

A weighty silence ensued as neither men did anything but breathe. Their hands were linked, but the grip was tenuous. Was that their relationship as well?

Swallowing hard, Baird whispered dejectedly, rage still smoldering beneath the surface. "There's a lot that we have to talk about."

His tone was reserved. "Yeah. There is."

Augustus Cole's Quarters: New Jacinto

Cole wanted to wait. He truly did. But with what he had just had to deal with, he needed some relief. He wanted to be selfish for once: doing what he wanted without having to worry about other people.

That was how he had ended up on his back in his room with Sam riding his cock desperately, head thrown back as she cried his name. His hands were on her hips as he helped impale her onto his thick black cock, thrusting into her while watching her beautiful breasts bounce.

He made a mental note to remind himself to thank Anya. She had been the one who had found him walking dazedly from the hospital. She had intently listened to him divulge what he had been through and not judging him for what he felt. She had cheered him up by telling him that a Thrashball game was occurring and that Sam was diligently standing by, pretending to patrol but truly waiting to see if he showed up.

And after Cole had treated her the way he had due to Baird. She was one class act. Maybe he had been wrong about her. Maybe Baird's paranoia had rubbed off, leading him to see things that Baird would have seen.

He groaned, bringing his knees up so Sam could rest her hands against them. His hands drifted up to her breasts, one hand cupping and squeezing while the other pulled at a nipple. He heard her breaths quicken as she rode him harder, wet sloppy sounds emitting when their bodies made contact. Cole had a perfect view of her moist pussy coating his cock with her juices. Their lustful eyes connected and all the affection they had for each other poured forth. Cole had to admit—this was much better than troubling over Baird, being apprehensive about meeting Marcus, and trying to fix everyone's problems.

He had taken up that mantle: to be the morale officer of the COG—though not officially—and in doing so, had neglected his own needs. It was true that Baird infrequently commented on how his life was going, but it seemed to be only in mere deflection of his own. Otherwise, Baird was consumed by his own troubles and seemed to have no time for Cole unless to drag him into them. When Cole had tried to tell him some of his feelings, he had shut him out.

Marcus hadn't ever been a problem. Cole had to haul bits and pieces of news from him and even then, he didn't get a clear picture. He left the man to his own devices most of the time, because it seemed that the only individual who could handle his temperament was Baird. He was sure that Anya hadn't seen Marcus the way and had even mentioned to her the possibility of their coupling being unsound after the Thrashball game. Anya had avidly defended them, telling him that she had never seen Marcus as happy as he was with Baird. He hadn't mean to divulge all of what he encountered to the Lieutenant, but he felt as if there was no one else he could turn to who knew better.

He was becoming irate, his voice pitching higher as he denounced all of Anya's explanations and a part of him was proud that she had stood strong against his verbal onslaught. Sam had caught their raised voices and simply grasped Cole's hand, gently extricating him from a brewing argument. It was so unlike him to be frazzled, she had whispered, and wanted to comfort his distress.

That was another thing. He had to apologize to Anya. He had definitely been wrong about her.

Cole arched up as Sam leaned over him to plant her mouth hard against him, hands clasping his face as hands went to steady her frantic rocking. He spilled into her, body trembling in orgasm, continuing to push himself in and out of her. Her shivers matched his own when she hit her own threshold, her pussy contracting around his cock as if to squeeze every inch of cum out of her, lukewarm fluids dribbling out of her in slow streams. Sam collapsed on top of him, inhaling hard as she tried to calm herself.

"Fuck, Cole." She whispered breathless. "That was amazing. And exactly what I needed." Hazel eyes looked up at him, her chin on his chest as she cocked a smile. "I'm guessing it was the same for you." She teased, her Indie Twang more apparent as she did so.

As he stared down at her, Cole realized that his tension had eased, he no longer was attacked by misplaced guilt or confusion, and that—even though they had went a bit faster than he had expected—Sam would help him. She had been the one to ease his distress as they walked away from Anya and had put her lips to his when he admitted that he felt so torn up inside. A kiss led to tearing away clothes which had them wrestling on the bed passionately. She would always have his back, unlike a certain buddy used to.

"Better." He gleamed, soaking in her satisfied smile. "Since we both need this, I'm also thinking that we should do this more often. I'll make sure to romance you first."

Her laugh made his heart light. She then turned concerned eyes on him. "I haven't seen you that way ever, Cole. I didn't think you had it in you to get angry."

Cole let out a heavy breath. "Bad day, baby."

"Want to talk about it?" Her tone was sincere, honest, and willing to listen.

A smile drifted across his face. "Yeah. Let me tell you about it."

I'll admit that I prefer to do M/M sex scenes rather than M/F. So if you happened to enjoy it, I'm sorry that it wasn't longer. Hope you enjoyed!