Title: Till We Meet Again

Disclaimer: Slash, language, violence, character death, sexual content, angst.

POV: Danny

Chapter Three: Within the Family

"Isn't that Martin's tie?" Sam asked after wishing me a good morning. I could see Martin over her shoulder. His gaze is turned in our direction and his eyes are opened wide. I bet his heart is beating fast.

I smiled. "Good eye, Sam." I fingered the end of the tie and held it in my hand. "I haven't done laundry in a while, guess time just slipped away from me. All my ties are dirty and Martin was being a good friend, loaning one of his out to me."

Samantha glanced over at Martin. "You two would be so lost without each other; like a blind man and his dog."

She stepped around me and took off toward Jack's office, her blond ponytail swinging slowly behind her. Questions better left unasked formed in my mind. Sam and Jack had been close once. They'd even had an affair. I'm not one to frown on office romance, which would make me a hypocrite. Jack's wife left him, took their two girls and disappeared to Chicago. It tore him up. He'd already his quit his job, ready to move with his family when his wife told him that she didn't want him going along. One could only imagine the pain in his heart. Understandably he was depressed and at times I think he was lost inside himself. When he finally got himself back to normal he returned to work. This unsettled Vivian, who had taken over as the boss of our team. Now she was back to working with the subordinates.

Ever since Jack's return Sam had been acting weird. The first thought that crossed my mind is that the two of them picked-up right where they left off. They weren't having an affair anymore, now that Jack was divorced. Things became confusing when Sam started spending more time with Martin. That's when I started to have my doubts, and even had thoughts that made me hate myself. What else was I to think, though? When a young woman sleeps with her boss it looks a tad suspicious. Everyone will believe that she's trying to get a promotion or special treatment. Sure, I was happy for Martin when I saw them together at the office. I couldn't help being a little suspicious. Martin's father was a big-wig in the FBI. Did Sam want to get in good with Martin's father and perhaps get a higher position in the business?

These were things that crossed my mind. I felt bad about them and felt even worse when Sam broke things off with Martin. That night we went out together as friends. Martin dragged me to a bar much to my disbelief. He drank one beer before noticing how uncomfortable I was and he let me take him home. At work that following day he acted like nothing had happened. Since then Sam kept busy with the other two girls and spent more time in Jack's office. I couldn't help thinking that she only talked to Martin and me for office relations. Someone had to keep the peace.

I watched Martin head over to talk with Vivian. He was quite the vision from the backend. How Sam could have ever let him go is beyond me, at least luck was smiling on me that day. I sat at my desk, logged into my computer, and went straight to checking my email. Technically, I'm not supposed to do that during work hours. I figured it would be okay since there wasn't a current active case to solve. For some reason I had never gotten a home computer. It just didn't interest me. The only reason I even used email was to keep in contact with my brother when he had to lay low for the latest stupid thing he had done. The email waiting in my in-box belonged to him. A great deal of typing had gone into telling me about his new car and how his wife loved their new house. Things were finally working out for my brother. I could only hope he would stay on the path he currently found himself on. I don't think Jack would be willing to look the other way next time he screwed up.

"We have to go," Martin said as he gently tapped my shoulder.

I gave him a quick glance. "Why, what's up?" I logged out of my email before anyone noticed. Martin didn't care and never really paid attention anyway.

"Jack has a case he wants us to look into," he whispered.

I stood, grabbing my keys off my desk. "Why are you whispering?" I asked following him toward the elevator. Vivian and Sam stood by the write-on-wipe-off board talking in hushed voices and looking in our direction.

"Stop taking your sweet time." He took a firm hold of my wrist and practically dragged me into the elevator. "We worked the last high profile case, so this one should rightfully go to the girls; Jack gave it to us."

"At the risk of sounding like a broken record, why?" In the confined space I could smell his aftershave. It mixed with the smell of his laundry detergent and had the slight hint of cologne. I wanted nothing more than to take him into my arms and cover myself in his scent.

"Jack doesn't feel safe sending three women into the 'pits of hell', as he put it, even if those three women are female agents," he responded.

"'Pits of hell?'" I echoed. How could he just stand there and not show any signs of arousal? Another reason for me to love Martin; he could clearly keep his person life separate from his business life. Unlike myself. I let my knuckles brush against his, feeling the sparks as skin touched skin. A slight brush colored his cheeks.

"We're going somewhere rather unpleasant," he remarked as the elevator doors swooshed open letting us out in the parking garage. "Someplace I wish I didn't have to go…"

For the first time in the last four minutes it dawned on me why Martin was acting weird; he was afraid. Something about the situation must have brought back memories of getting shot, of lying on the pavement and almost dying. If the potential of getting shot lingered in the air why had Jack sent the two of us? He could have contacted another branch of the FBI or even have given us some sort of back-up.

I climbed behind the wheel, asserting the fact that I was in charge. Martin got in on the passenger side and sat quietly in his seat. "You want to tell me who we're going to see?"

He looked me in the eye. "The O'Leary Boys."

My hand froze in the process of turning the ignition. "Is Jack fucking crazy? He's only sending two of us to talk to them?"

The O'Leary Boys might as well have been classified as mobsters, maybe they were and I just didn't know. The two brothers had a reputation for fucking up the life of any law enforcement personal that tried to put them away. Last year they had been responsible for the death of four police officers and one firefighter. Unfortunately all the evidence against them disappeared, as did both witnesses and their lawyers. I wasn't ready to become the next the Jimmy Hoffa. Now I could clearly see why Martin was rattled. We'd probably get shot right on the scene; the minute they know we represent the FBI.

"There's only one of them," Martin corrected. He continued explaining when I gave him a questioning look. "Sean called the FBI voluntarily when his younger brother wound up missing two days ago."

"Wait," I said finally starting the car. "His brother went missing two days ago and he just now calls us? Seems fishy to me, then again, everything these two do is fishy."

"Can we just go and get this over and done with, please?" Martin pleaded.

I pulled out of the parking garage and headed toward the bar the brothers owned. We drove along in silence. I could feel the fear rolling off Martin. This entire situation made him greatly uncomfortable and it was beginning to piss me off. When I got back to the office I promised myself that I would give Jack a piece of my mind. How could he be so careless, so thoughtless? At one point, when we were stopped at a red light, I reached over and took Martin's hand in mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. For once the New York traffic was bad and we made good time, much to my dismay. I had a job to do but I didn't want to put Martin through this; I was letting my love for him intrude on my work. Something we both agreed we couldn't do.

The Loch Ness Pub was a shitty looking place on the outside. It did fair enough business, not exactly popular with the celebrities, more popular with the alcoholics and drug dealers. The windows had soap rubbed on them to keep curious eyes from looking in and observing things they shouldn't see. A sign in the heavy wooden door proclaimed that they were closed. Bar hours started at four pm and went until midnight. I stood in front of Martin and knocked on the door. No way in hell was I just going to barge in and risk getting us both killed.

A tank of a man opened the door. "What do you want?" He asked in a voice deeper than the ocean floor.

"We're with the FBI, I believe Sean O'Leary is expecting us," I said with confidence that was merely a front.

"Let them in, Alastar, I invited them here," a voice called from within the darkness.

The man named Alastar grunted and stepped aside. I gave a quick glance to Martin over my shoulder. He was trying hard not to look scared shitless. I didn't blame him. We entered the foul smelling pub with Alastar bringing up the rear. Sean O'Leary sat at a table in the middle of the room. His red hair was neatly trimmed and his blue eyes sparkled with the flames of fiery hatred. He was fit and roughly about thirty. He didn't stand when Martin and I stopped before him but he did acknowledge our presence with a nod of his head. A half-drunk beer sat on the middle of the table next to an ashtray.

"Introduce yourselves, please, I like to know who I'm talking to," he demanded.

"I'm Special Agent Danny Taylor and this is my partner, Special Agent Martin Fitzgerald. We're here to talk about your brother, Cory. I understand he's missing," I replied. I decided to get straight to the point and avoid any delays to the topic.

"He was supposed to come home two days ago from a trip to see a business partner of ours, and he never made it. I've been calling his cell phone and have talked with my associates. No one has seen him. I refuse to believe that my brother would just take-off to visit another country so don't even think about voicing that opinion," he threatened.

"What's the name of you person he went to see that day?" I asked, holding a little notebook in my hand to write down the name.

"Anton Vladislav. He is a bastard of a man who tried to rip my brother and me off with a shottie investment. Cory went to have a little talk with Anton. The last time I heard from my brother he had sorted things out," answered the Irishman.

"Do you know where your brother was when he called you?" I questioned.

"Standing outside on the sidewalk. I could hear the cars and the people around him. Could even hear the annoying yelling of a man trying to sell those roadside hotdogs," he said. He looked at Martin. "You friend trying to hide something? He doesn't talk much and that doesn't sit well with me. In my experience quite people have something to hide." He leaned forward on the table to give Martin a closer look.

I looked over my shoulder and then back at Sean. "He's not exactly comfortable here, Mr. O'Leary."

"You don't like my pub, boy?" The mobster sounded offended.

"Excuse me, Mr. O'Leary, I think I can explain. My partner was shot in the line of duty a few months ago and he's on edge because of your reputation," I said brutally honest.

Surprisingly the Irishman laughed. He stood from the table. "I'm not planning on shooting you. I'm not even armed." He did a slow turn with his arms raised toward the ceiling. "I just want to find my brother. And to deal with Anton Vladislav if he had something to do with it."

After that the tension in the room went down a few notches. Martin didn't say a word through the entire conversation. Every once in a while Sean would give him a quick look before answering my latest question. After getting a recent picture of Cory and telling Mr. O'Leary that we would talk to Anton Vladislav we said our goodbyes and left. Back in the car Martin laid his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. I could see his whole body relax now that he wasn't in the line of danger. I gave him a pat on the thigh before starting the car and heading back to headquarters. It was time to have that word with Jack.