14

10:45 PM, January 14, 2010

McCullen's Avenue Tavern

The CSI team gathered to process the scene of Danny's shooting. Don, followed by Victor, took statements from the witnesses at the bar. Adam called with information regarding Sean McCullen and his hairless friend. The group gathered to go over everything learned thus far, inside the bar rather than in the cold, blood-soaked alley.

"Sean McCullen, born Seamus Cullen, moved here from Ireland in the '80s to avoid a murder charge," Mac said. "He was involved with a gang that has influence here, so they probably were responsible for smuggling him into the United States and giving him a new identity. McCullen opened the bar, and he apparently went straight as far as gang activity goes. He has been involved with a number of anti-gay organizations, however, the latest being D3-ATS. He even goes to protests all over the US. It was at one of these protests that he met with our hairless killer: Howard Avery."

Mac held up his phone to show them Avery's photo.

"Yeah, that's him," Flack said. "That's the guy at the D3-ATS meeting. If I had just taken him in then-"

"You had no cause to bring him in," Victor said. "There was nothing you could have done."

"I should have questioned him. I could have pushed him, gotten him to assault me. I should have done something! I should have-"

"If you had cornered him, you could be in the hospital alongside your friend," Victor said sternly. "Let it go, Don."

"He's right, the man is dangerous," Mac said. "Howard Avery was born in Tennessee, where he applied to the US Marine Corps at the age of eighteen. He was rejected due to failing the psych test. Ever since, he's styled himself as a defender of the American Way, hence the soldier gear he wears and uses. Avery has been involved in every kind of hate group imaginable: anti-gay, white supremacy, self-appointed border patrol gangs. He has an encyclopedia-sized criminal record, everything from assault to attempted murder. He's currently wanted for jumping parole in Florida. It was at a protest in Florida that Avery met McCullen. The protest was outside a military base, and Alan Fraser was one of the soldiers that came out to put it down."

"McCullen must have remembered Fraser from Florida when he saw him in his bar," Stella said. "He made Avery aware of Fraser's presence in New York."

"McCullen also made Avery aware of all the other potential targets he was aware of," Mac said. "John Lazaro. Danny and I. Flack. He listened in on everything we said and reported it back to Avery. They planned out a kill list together, using D3-ATS to meet and find supporters."

Flack's phone rang and he answered it.

"We've got eyes on McCullen," he announced. "I'm going to get this guy, Mac."

"Go," Mac said.

Flack and Victor went running from the alley. Mac was not certain he agreed with the PI's involvement, but he had no time to object. He could only hope that Flack did not lose control. He doubted Victor was the type to pull him back from the edge.

11:07 PM, January 14, 2010

Condemned Church, Bronx, New York

"Good thing I called this location in," Flack said as he eased his car down the road towards the crumbling church. "Patrolman called in seeing a man fitting McCullen's description on the move in this area. My guess is that he's holed up in the church his precious D3-ATS group met at. McCullen didn't know we had been here earlier."

"You good to do this?"

Flack looked surprised by the question. "Yeah, why?"

Victor studied him for a long moment. "I checked up some records, after you fell asleep at my place. I knew that you were keeping something from me, something else you were harboring guilt over. I had to be absolutely certain that you weren't the killer."

"Records? What records?"

"Police files, your files," Victor said. He held up a hand when Flack started to complain. "I know it isn't legal, but you know as well as I do it's standard practice for PIs to have access to police records. I found what I was looking for. I found out what happened after you lost your girlfriend Jess Angell."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You shot one of the men responsible," Victor said. "Don, it wasn't a justified shooting, was it?"

Don stared straight ahead through the windshield, his face blank. "Of course it was."

"Don, look at me."

Don swallowed, and met his eyes. Victor put a hand on his knee and leaned closer to him.

"Tell me the truth."

"Seems like you've already convinced yourself of what the truth is," Don said angrily. "Why even ask me?"

Victor drummed his fingers on Don's knee. He sat back in the passenger seat, quiet. They parked outside the church, but neither moved to exit the car.

"I killed a man," Victor said. "When I was working as a criminal profiler for the FBI. I hunted down a serial killer that raped and murdered children. I hunted alongside the law, and then when I found this man, this … monster … I had him all to myself. I lied to you last night, when I said no one had ever laughed at me before. He laughed at me. He laughed in my face about all the children he had slaughtered. So I slaughtered him."

Don's eyes were round as he listened. Victor was as calm as if he were reciting children's poetry.

"There was no possible way of justifying what I did to him," Victor said. "I was already in a dark place, and everybody at the Bureau knew it. I knew how it would go down. So, I covered up what I had done. I anonymously sent proof of death to the families of the victims to let them know justice had been done. Then, I publicly claimed failure, and resigned from the Bureau."

Victor turned back to Don. There was a weariness in his eyes that went beyond his years.

"I recognized the guilt you were shouldering, because I've lived with it," Victor said. "Not regret. I don't regret killing that animal, and I doubt you regret avenging Angell. But the guilt of betraying what we stand for, the guilt of having to kill another human being in cold blood, that doesn't ease simply because one has no regrets. Does it?"

"No," Don replied softly. "It doesn't."

"I've never told anyone the real reason I left the FBI," Victor said. "Some of the people I worked with must have suspected. Your Mac Taylor had read about all of this, and he let me know that he figured it out. But I've never spoken of it in words, not once."

"Victor … "

"I'm telling you now, because I want you to know that I understand what you did," Victor said, taking Flack's face into his hand. "But the reason I left the Bureau was that I no longer trusted myself. Once you realize that you have the potential to take the law into your own hands without regret, without conscience, you have to decide whether you can reign that potential in or not. I didn't trust that I could, so I stepped down. Don, you have to make that decision now. Okay? Right now, before this case goes any further. Can you trust yourself?"

"It's been like I've been living outside myself ever since," Don said. "I couldn't articulate what was eating away at me, but that's exactly it: I haven't been able to trust myself. So I started drinking to give myself the confidence to do my job."

"And now that you're sober? Now that you know?"

"I think … I think I'm ready to trust myself," Don said. "I can't see myself ever doing something like that again. I just can't. I thought revenge would make me feel better, but it didn't. It just left me empty and disappointed with myself. So, no, I can't misstep like that again. It would kill me."

Victor smiled. "Well, you're a better man than I."

"How about you? Can you be trusted in there?"

"I won't screw this up," Victor said. "I still remember how to follow protocol. Don't worry about me."

"I'm trusting you, Victor," Flack said gravely. "You're not supposed to be working with me."

"I sometimes do consultation work for the NYPD," Victor said. "Believe me, I can handle myself."

"All right. Let's get in there, then."

"Let's do it."

They exited the car and walked slowly up to the church. Outside the church doors, Victor drew a pistol. Flack raised his eyebrows. He had not realized that Victor had been wearing a holster beneath his coat. Victor gave him a quirk of a smile. Flack motioned that he would take point, and pushed the church doors open slowly.

The church was dark and silent. Flack's footsteps creaked across the decrepit floorboards. He waited, listened, but heard nothing. He motioned for Victor to take the right, as he went left. They moved slowly around the pews.

"Sean McCullen!" shouted Flack. "This is the NYPD! Come out slowly with your hands raised in the air!"

Flack had not expected a response, and he didn't get one. He took out his flashlight and shined it around the room. The beam looked feeble, nearly swallowed up by the blackness in the church. Victor stopped suddenly, and beckoned Flack over. He pointed up. Both men were still, and then they heard a shuffle overhead.

Don crept to the stairwell in the back of the room. He made his way up the stone steps, keeping the heels of his shoes off the floor to keep them from making a sound. Victor followed closely behind him.

The stairs opened onto a wide hallway lined with doors. Some were off the hinges, a few were completely missing. Many of the rooms were choked with piles of broken furniture. Don turned his flashlight off, shut his eyes for several seconds to get them used to the dark. He and Victor went side by side down the hall, listening, glancing into rooms.

Suddenly, a stack of furniture was pushed out of one of the door frames. Flack jumped back as the furniture clattered to the floor. There was a blur of motion. Flack turned his flashlight on and aimed his gun.

"Sean McCullen! Freeze!"

Before he could get a clear shot, McCullen aimed his gun back and shot wildly. Victor and Don flattened themselves against the walls. McCullen ran around a corner, and they heard his footsteps clattering upwards. Flack swore, running after him.

"You got nowhere to go, McCullen!" Flack called as he ran down the hall. "Give it up! There's only one way this ends!"

Don clattered up the wooden stairs to the bell tower. He saw McCullen look down at him to aim his gun. Flack aimed his flashlight directly into the man's eyes, and he heard a shout of aggravated pain. While McCullen was momentarily blinded, Flack let off a shot. It hit the gun, knocking it out of McCullen's hand. The gun fell down from the winding stairs, hitting the floor far below.

"You're done, McCullen!" Flack shouted, hurrying up the stairs. "Give it up, you piece of shit!"

McCullen kept running up the stairs. He was damnably fast, and had disappeared into the darkness of the bell tower by the time Flack got to the top. Flack shone his flashlight around, but could not get sight of him.

Flack held up a hand for Victor to stop on the stairs. Victor came to a halt. Flack motioned him back. Victor frowned in confusion, but walked back down the stairs. Flack pressed one ear shut with his free hand, and covered the other with his elbow. He aimed for the bell above, and fired.

McCullen came stumbling into view, clutching his ears. Flack managed to keep his gun on him, though the reverberations set his teeth on edge. Victor came up and past him, aiming at McCullen.

"Nice move," Victor remarked to Flack. "You trying to handicap us both?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

Victor shook his head, and walked behind McCullen. Flack, one eye squinted from the ringing in his right ear, walked before him. McCullen looked between the two men, but was helpless to do anything. Flack turned him around, getting his handcuffs out.

"You have the right to keep your filthy mouth shut, asshole," Flack informed him.

McCullen looked furious, and baffled.

"Don't think he can hear you," Victor said.

"That's all right," Flack said as cuffed McCullen. He grinned. "We'll show him the dummy cards at the station. Let's go."

They began the tread down the stairwell. Flack kept a gun stuck into McCullen's side. He wasn't going to take any chances with the man that had shot Danny.

"You know, sometime … " Victor started ponderously.

Don looked at Victor questioningly.

"Sometime, I've got to get you in handcuffs," Victor said with a sly smile.

Don blushed, but did not look adverse to the idea. "You think about a thing like that, at a time like this?"

"What can I say?" Victor said. "Catching the bad guy really rings my bell."

Don laughed. He was immensely pleased to have laid hands on McCullen. Things were finally looking up.

McCullen had his ears tended to, and then was booked and processed. Mac came down to the precinct. He congratulated Flack and grudgingly thanked Victor for his help. The three took a short break for coffee while they waited to interrogate McCullen.

"You're not bad in the field," Victor told Flack. "Except for almost blowing everyone's hearing out, that is."

"You're never going to let me live down that bell thing, are you?" Don grumbled.

"No, I'm not," Victor grinned. "You really rang in a new classic."

"Oh come on … "

"Don, you did good," Mac told him. He clapped Flack on the shoulder. "I knew you would."

"Thanks, Mac," Don beamed. He noticed Victor giving him a look, and said, "You were pretty good back-up, too, Vic."

"Thank you very much, Don Junior," Victor said. "I, ah … It's funny, but it was great to be in the field. I hadn't realized that I missed it."

"Maybe it's time you reconsidered trusting yourself again," Don said.

Victor shot him an annoyed look. "You really don't get the meaning of a private conversation, do you?"

"Oh?" Mac intervened. "And why don't you trust yourself, Victor?"

Victor put his hands in his coat pockets, looking down his stately nose at the two men. He narrowed his eyes, and refused to acknowledge the question. Fortunately, a cop came in and told Mac and Don that they were ready for the interrogation.

"Good luck in there," Victor said. "I think I'll go see if there's any consulting work available. It would be nice to work with you again, Donald Junior."

"Not if you keep calling me that."

Victor gave his shoulder a squeeze, and then left. Mac and Don headed for the interrogation room. Sean McCullen was handcuffed to the table. He sat with the expression of a Prisoner of War. It took every ounce of Mac's self-control to keep from drawing his gun and shooting the man in the face.

"Mr. McCullen, let's get something out of the way," Mac said, standing before the table. "Neither Detective Flack nor I want to spend one more moment in your presence than is absolutely necessary. You represent the absolute worst of humanity."

"At least I am human," McCullen retorted. "Which is more than I can say for you two arse-fuckers."

"Hey, you shut your mouth, you piece of garbage!" Flack yelled at him.

"Don't give him what he wants, Don," Mac said. "He isn't worth it."

"That's right, Donny boy, listen to your master here," McCullen goaded him. "Have you always been his bitch, or are you punishing yourself for failing to keep your woman safe?"

Flack crossed his arms. "You done yet?"

"Not really," McCullen said. "You know, your sister was a whore, but at least she had the decency to spread her legs for the opposite gender. And believe me, I would know."

Flack's hands tightened, and the color drained from his face. He froze where he stood. Before he recovered from the shock, Mac acted. He slammed both hands down on the interrogation table, making Flack jump. Mac leaned down to face McCullen directly.

"You have one chance," Mac told McCullen. "Just this one. Give us Avery."

"And who is that?"

"Don't." Mac took McCullen by his stringy brown hair. "Don't play games with me! You give us Howard Avery, and you might just get a break. A small one."

"And why would I care about your small break?" McCullen asked. "I'm sure you've found out all about me by now."

"You're right, I have," Mac said. "I've talked to a lot of your old friends in Ireland, on the street and in the police force. There are a lot of them that would love to have you deported back to your homeland. I can stop that from happening, if you give me Avery."

"Right, because things will go so much better for me here," McCullen said cynically, "after I gave your boyfriend another hole for you to stick it in."

Don's fists were both curled. He did not know how Mac could look into that sneering face and not tear him apart with his bare hands. Mac unwaveringly glared at him for a long, tense moment. Then, he stood up, straightened his jacket.

"You had your chance," he said. He met Flack's eyes, then looked back down at McCullen. "You won't get another."

Flack followed Mac out of the room.

"What gives?" he asked. "We just giving up?"

"He isn't going to talk to us," Mac said. "I won't give him the satisfaction of letting him get under my skin. All eyes are on this case, Don. If we overstep even a little, it's going to give the lawyers that will debase themselves by defending these animals material to use against us. I will not let a moment of weakness cost the system this case."

"I understand, but what about Avery?" Flack asked. "Do we have any leads?"

"No, but his face is out there," Mac pointed out. "We're running through everything we know about Avery. It's only a matter of time."

The police were escorting McCullen out of interrogation. He gave the two men a smug smile.

"I understand we can't overstep, but man, if I had a minute alone with that guy … " Flack trailed off wistfully. "Hey, where's Victor?"

Mac looked around. "I don't know. He said he was going to see about consulting."

"Yeah, but he should be in the Captain's office," Flack pointed out. "I don't see him anywhere."

Mac shrugged, dialing a number on his phone. "I'm going to see if the lab has anything yet."

Mac had been on the phone for a few minutes, when the station lights flickered. As everyone looked up at them in confusion, they went out. The station went entirely dark, and chaos erupted.

"Everyone calm down!" Mac yelled at the shouting, stumbling crowd. He used his phone to illuminate the area around he and Flack. "Listen to me! Secure the accused, and stay where you are! Emergency power will be on momentarily!"

"McCullen!" Flack exclaimed. "Mac, we gotta go see about McCullen!"

"Wait for the power, Don! Don!"

Flack had already gone running. Mac swore under his breath. He gave some more orders to a few detectives, and then followed Flack's trail. In the hallway to the cells, he ran into the two police officers that had been escorting McCullen. Mac knelt and checked both of their pulses. They were alive, merely unconscious. Mac drew his gun, and continued onward.

Flack met him in the holding area. He had a broad grin on his face. Mac's tension eased.

"We got an address," Flack announced. "McCullen gave up Avery."

"What?" Mac asked. "How? Where's McCullen?"

"He's locked up in the back," Flack said nonchalantly. He saw Mac's look and held up his hands innocently. "I didn't touch him."

Mac holstered his gun, just as the emergency lights glowed to life. Victor came striding up to them. His face was serene, but there was a ferocious glint in his eyes. He was massaging his fingers and knuckles.

"It's a shame about the state of the system in New York," Victor said. "What with all the budget cuts and maintenance delays, they can't even keep a police station powered."

"Victor, what did you do?" Mac asked.

Flack's grin widened. Victor noticed, and gave him a small smile in return.

"Who says I did anything? Walk with me."

They all followed the man as he swiftly led them out of the holding area. They slipped back into the crowd without attracting attention. On the way out of the precinct, Victor grabbed three coffees quickly. He passed these around outside, giving them the appearance of having used the power failure to take a break.

"How would anyone think that I did something to McCullen when he didn't even see me?" Victor said. "I don't work at the precinct, so there isn't a single cop he can point to. For all intents and purposes, McCullen tried to escape, ran into a cell by mistake, and the door fell shut behind him."

"And how are you going to explain the battery?"

Victor grinned, showing his teeth in a wolfish manner. "There are ways to hurt a man without leaving a mark."

"Ha ha! That's just great," Flack said, sounding like a kid at Christmas. "Hey, Mac, we got to go find this Avery. Are you coming with?"

"No, I am not coming 'with'," Mac said in annoyance. "You and I will go to the address, Don. Victor, I appreciate everything you've done, but you're on thin ice. I will not have these arrests messed up by going outside the lines."

"But Mac, we wouldn't have a lead if Victor hadn't done what he did!" Flack defended him. "He's not a cop, he doesn't have to play by our rules. He just thought outside the box a little."

"This isn't the FBI, Don! We don't get cover-ups!" Mac snapped. "Now are you going to stand here and argue this, or are you going to come with me?"

"Go on," Victor told Flack. "It's fine."

"You don't give him the orders here," Mac said coldly. "Don!"

Don looked between them. Mac turned and headed for the car.

"Sorry," Don said to Victor. "That was awesome, though. Like a spy movie or something."

Victor chuckled. "Thanks. Hey, we'll catch up when you finally put this guy away, okay?"

"Yeah. See you."

Victor bent down and gave him a hurried, forceful kiss. Before Don had fully recovered, he had taken off. A little dazed from excitement and feeling, Don joined Mac at the car. Mac was giving him a look, but he said nothing. They got into the car and drove away from the police station.

"It's going to be a long ride out to Jersey," Flack said, yawning. He checked his watch. "What a freaking day."

"Don, how do you feel about Victor?"

"Look, he helped us, Mac," Don said. "He put himself on the line to help us. I don't wanna hear it. Please. Just let it go. We both know people that are still working in the system that have done worse for less noble reasons."

"I wasn't going to complain about his stunt at the police station, Don," Mac said. "I don't like it, but this case has driven me so insane that I'm actually willing to let it go."

"Oh."

"I'm wondering about you, Don," Mac said. "When you made your appointment at the Eden of Desires club and met Victor, you were drugged, depressed, reeling from guilt. You threw yourself into a lifestyle that you had never sought out before. I apologize for the role I inadvertently played in influencing you four years ago."

"Mac, I don't blame you for that. To tell you the truth, I had been a little bi-curious before," Don said. "I had just never let myself experiment. Family expectations, church, you know."

"I do."

"After Jess, I never intended to be with anyone again," Don said. "Tell you the truth, you saved me by making me realize that I could be with someone again, that I wanted to be with someone. Even if it didn't work out between you and me, still."

"But do you want to be with a man?"

"I want to be with Victor," Flack said. "I like being with him. I mean, he's arrogant, and he's a control freak, but he makes me feel good. I wasn't looking to fall into a relationship with a guy. I just wanted to feel what I felt four years ago. I wanted to … to be punished, I guess. And Danny and I had been there earlier. It was on my mind."

"Victor took advantage," Mac said. "He was FBI once, and a profiler. He could tell you were drugged. He saw your vulnerable mental state. Not only did he let you hire him, he took you home. It was borderline rape, Don."

"You're kidding me, right? He didn't know that I hadn't taken the drugs myself, and he didn't know that I wasn't gay," Flack pointed out. "Hell, he thought I might have been the killer! He had his fun, yeah, but he was also trying to get information. As for me … I got what I paid for."

"Yeah?"

Flack was staring at his hands. He shifted in his seat. "Yeah. It sounds weird to say I 'enjoyed' it, but that's as close to describing it as possible. I was upset and he gave me what I wanted. Then, Victor took me home with him, and I … I really enjoyed that part."

Mac cleared his throat.

"Anyway, I doubted Victor when I saw him at the D3-ATS meeting," Flack said. "I really did. And it hurt. It hurt me more than I thought it would have. That was when I realized that I cared about him. It wasn't just a one-night stand, Mac. We connected, we really did."

"I'll bet you did. And do you want to stay connected?" Mac asked. "Even given all that entails?"

"Yeah, I do," Don said. "You don't have to worry about me, though, Mac. I'm not in that place anymore, and you know I can take care of myself. Besides, I think Victor is a good guy."

"Did this good guy tell you about his past with the FBI? Or why he left?"

"Yeah, he did."

Mac frowned. "And what did he tell you?"

"That you had figured it out."

"I have to say, I never thought he would admit to that," Mac said. "To be honest, I still don't fully trust him."

"I do," Flack said. "But I'm still a detective, Mac, and a grown man. I know how to watch my-" Flack cut himself off, realizing how the words would sound given the situation. "I'm careful."

"I hope so, Don," Mac said. "I've had enough worrying about you to last a lifetime."

"You're a good friend," Flack said appreciatively. "If I end up needing a friend, I'll call you. Promise."

"Okay. That's enough for me."

"How about you?" Flack asked quietly. "Any word on Danny?"

Mac drew a breath. "No. Not yet."

"We'll have this guy locked up by the time he wakes up," Flack said. "You'll be right there to tell him the good news. Right?"

Mac smiled, though the worry was still in his eyes. "God willing."

"So, are you two back together?" Flack asked. "Has he told Lindsay yet?"

"We're going to give it another try." Mac's face quivered. "Who am I kidding? I can't … Jesus, Don, I can't live without him."

Mac shook his head, clutching the wheel as if for dear life. "I keep replaying that phone call in my mind," he went on. "I wasn't in that alley, but I keep seeing Danny in it, lying there bleeding. I keep thinking of how I could have lost him, how I wasn't there for him, what our last moments on Earth together could have been. None of it mattered anymore: not his cheating, not my pride, none of it. I feel like a fool."

"Mac, you're not a fool," Flack said. He was taken aback to see Mac in such an unguarded state. "I'm sure you had your reasons for being angry at Danny."

"They weren't enough," Mac said. "I could have lost Danny after spending over two years being petty and afraid and angry. There is no reason good enough to excuse such a waste."

Flack wanted to comfort him, but he could think of nothing to say. It was like watching your father break down. He looked out the window, stunned into silence.

"You've been mired in guilt, but I'm the one that should feel guilty, Don," Mac said. "My lies and secrets have led me to make so many mistakes. With you, with Danny. Don't Ask, Don't Tell Taylor. It sickens me that I ever believed so much in that damned policy that I was called that. Keeping so many secrets, you get used to accumulating darker and darker ones. It becomes almost a game, thinking that you can get away with hiding anything. I've been arrogant, high-handed. I've hurt both you and Danny both. I never looked inward, when Danny cheated on me. I never thought that the problem lay with me."

Flack put a hand on Mac's shoulder. Mac was too lost in his reflections to notice.

"In all the time we were together, Danny never knew how much I needed him," Mac said. "I was so involved with my act of being the soldier, the strong one, the patriarch, that I buried my feelings for him along with all my other emotions. In trying to keep it all together, I almost lost it all."

Mac gave Flack a weary smile. "Just don't ever do that, Don," he advised. "In the end, it doesn't matter who you love, so long as you love them honestly."

"I will, Mac," Don said solemnly. He shifted, frowning, and turned back to the window. The snowy roads stretched out before them, wide empty swathes cut out of the sky-bound city. For a moment, he wished he were out in the snow, rather than trapped in a car discussing subjects that had stumped philosophers for years. In truth, Flack thought the whole concept of philosophy (spending a healthy life in thought rather than action) highly questionable.

Mac caught Flack's glum expression, and laughed.

"I'm sorry, Don," he said. "You're still young. I guess tonight, I just feel old."

"You're not that old, Mac."

"You don't have to hit a certain age number to feel ancient."

"Well," Don said, "I have to agree with that."