Title: Till We Meet Again

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

POV: Martin

Chapter Five: Seeing Blind

Another day dawned in the city made famous by Broadway and mafia. Danny could be heard singing in the shower as I rolled out of bed. How he could wake-up in a good mood was always beyond my understanding; especially when I can't seem to get rid of the feeling of impending doom. In all my years working for the FBI I've never been so shaken up during a case. I've pursued some of the nasty people in the world; I've been shot at and thrown into dangerous situations. Yet, the mere thought of the O'Leary brothers had me quaking in my boots. These two men were well known for hating law enforcement. Even if we reunited Sean with his brother there was no guarantee that Danny and I would get away scot-free. They'd probably torture us for the sheer hell of it. Those two always meant business.

There's a little voice deep inside me that keeps saying we could find just the right piece of evidence that puts the both of them in jail forever. We've been given rights by Sean himself to search various locales that his brother frequented. Maybe lady luck would be on our side and throw us a body of some poor unfortunate who crossed paths with the O'Learys. I shook my head, trying to rid the fog from my mind. It was too early in the morning to be thinking about death and the O'Leary brothers. My main priority should be getting dressed and actually making it to the office. Good think I showered last night because Danny is only on the second verse of the song he's singing. It's odd listening to someone in your shower, singing like there's no tomorrow. But it was just one of Danny's quirks and I found it kind of cute.

Once clothed I went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. We'd have to be out the door in the next twenty minutes if we wanted to get to work on time. I heard Danny shut the water off and turn on the water in the sink, most likely brushing his teeth. The coffee was done and I had it poured into two portable cups before Danny came out of the bathroom ready to face the day. He looked perfect, as usual, so handsome and confident in himself. If only I had half the confidence that he did.

"Good morning, Martin, ready for work?" He asked in a voice too bright for the early morning hours.

"I've been ready longer than you. We need to be going. Breakfast will have to wait until we get to the office," I replied slipping his cup of coffee into his hands. He looked from the cup to me. "Don't worry, I fixed it just the way you like it."

He smiled. "Boy, Martin, your acting like a housewife. It's a little disconcerting, what happened to my little FBI agent?"

"He was late for work so his boss fired him," I remarked as I picked up my suit jacket and headed for the door.

Danny followed right behind me. "He wouldn't fire you. He wouldn't want to put up with your father. It's just not worth the problems."

I silently agreed with him. Though my father was a business man he never could take the news of me being fired from a job. He'd nearly killed my boss when I was fifteen. The job hadn't been important to me; I don't even remember what I'd been doing. But my dad thought my boss wasn't justified letting me go, I thought he was. The two of us walked through the lobby of the apartment building, catching the eye of some of the other residents. I'd already heard the rumors that were flying around the building. Ms. Bishop in the apartment two doors down from mine had told Mrs. Hankee in the apartment next to hers that she felt Danny and I were on a stakeout. It didn't seem to matter to her that I'd been living in the same damn apartment for quite a few years now. Mrs. Hankee was dead-set on us being gay and that we should be reported to our boss, only, she didn't know what we did for a living. I figured I'd let them talk; let them come up with all sorts of rumors. None of them knew about my profession. I was just like every other male New Yorker who went to work in a business suit. For all they knew I worked somewhere down on Wall Street. Or even commuted to Washington DC; not that I would be that crazy.

On the way to work I turned the radio off. I just didn't want to listen to the news; it was always filled with horrible things happening to innocent people. There were other things on my mind, more important and more pressing issues. My feelings were heavily split on the case of the missing O'Leary brother. Part of me wanted to get to the office and find that a tip on his whereabouts had come in; the other part didn't want any tips because I didn't want to have to see Sean or Cory again. Of course, if Danny and I never found Cory we'd be in for a world of hurt. Sean would stop at nothing to destroy us and our careers. I was not too pleased about the possibility of getting shot again.

I walked slowly to my desk when we got to the office. Danny muttered something before disappearing to wherever he said he needed to go. A note was taped to the monitor of my computer. A note that made my blood run cold, a tip had come in for the missing brother. I sat heavily in my desk chair, reading the note over and over again to make sure I'd gotten it all. A number was written across the bottom. The handwriting looked like Sam's but I could have been wrong in my guess. With a trembling hand I picked up the phone to call the number. It rang three times before someone picked up on the other end.

"Hello?" Questioned a heavily accented Russian male.

"This is Agent Martin Fitzgerald with the FBI. I have a message with your phone number stating that you have information on Cory O'Leary," I explained, skipping over the pleasant introductory.

"Ah, yes, 'bout time one of you called me back," the voice replied. "I need to talk to you, but not over the phone. I want to do it face to face."

"That can be arranged," I assured him, happy with myself that I kept my voice from quavering. "May I ask your name?"

"Anton Vladislav."

My heart nearly stopped when his name reached my ears. The man on the other end of the phone was the same man that Sean suspected was responsible for Cory's disappearance. I looked about the office with scared eyes, trying to locate Danny. He was nowhere to be seen. I took down the address of the location Anton wanted to meet at. That feeling of doom from earlier this morning crept back into my body and took a firm grip on my heart. Meeting Anton anywhere but where he wanted to meet would have been fine. I promised to see him in an hour and we both ended the conversation. My hands were sweaty so I dried them on my pant legs. Now it was time to find Danny.

Ten minutes later I still hadn't found my partner. Vivian claimed that she hadn't seen him even come into the office. Sam mentioned that she saw him talking with Elena about something. Elena confirmed this information but couldn't tell me where Danny had wondered off to after that. Feeling like a beaten puppy dog I walked toward the elevator. The last thing I really wanted to do was visit Anton Vladislav alone, but the time was drawing nearer for our meeting and I didn't think keeping him waiting would be a good thing. Once in the elevator I called Danny's cell. It rang and rang and rang, eventually his voicemail picked up. I hung up without leaving him one.

Down in the parking garage I found that Danny's car was missing from the spot we'd parked it in this morning. Apparently my friend had left the office already. Could it be that he had gotten a tip of his own? A cold shiver ran down my spine. This wasn't how the case was supposed to go. Jack didn't want either one of us alone on this; too many bad things could go wrong. I looked back toward the elevator before checking my watch. It was no or never, eventually I would have to prove myself worthy of keeping my job. I pulled a set of keys from my pocket, happy that I had picked them up off my desk. They belonged to a company car, a pewter-colored Lincoln LS. The car was familiar to me and easy to drive. The guard at the entrance of the parking garage gave me a knowing look as I drove out. The car had been secured especially for me by my father. Sure, the others had access to company cars if the wanted but this particular car was always reserved for me; what a help in making them believe I wasn't some spoiled brat.

The drive to the Manhattan docks seemed to take me forever. When I arrived the place wasn't as busy as I had been hoping it would be. A lot of the dock workers were gone from the immediate area, either looking over shipping crates or actually out on boats. I parked the car between two large pick-up trucks. Once making sure that the car was locked and that I had my gun I headed into the mass of unfamiliar shapes. It took me at least another fifteen minutes to locate Anton Vladislav.

He was a short man, about five-foot-five and built like an average man. His black hair was immaculately cut; his clothes were clearly expensive and wrinkle-free. In his hand was a cigarette. Every few seconds he would tape the ashes off into the water. I approached him, making sure that he could hear me coming. The last thing I wanted to do was to frighten a potentially deadly guy.

He turned his cold blue eyes in my direction. "Agent Fitzgerald, I presume?" Though his accent was heavy I could understand the words. At least he wasn't Spanish. Danny had been trying to teach me Spanish and things just weren't working out that well. I believe the last time I tried my skill at the language I had offended someone.

"Mr. Vladislav," I said, flashing him my badge. "What is it that you wanted to discuss with me?"

He looked me over as though considering if I was even worth his time. "Where is your partner?"

The first thought that popped into my head screamed for me to lie to him. But then what if I said Danny was poking around, keeping an eye on things from a distance? For all I knew Anton Vladislav had his own people hiding behind every crate, trash can and car in the area. "I came here alone," I stated honestly.

A twinkle switched on in his eyes. "Ah, a brave man indeed." Apparently I was now a respectable person because he began to spill his guts about the missing Cory O'Leary. According to Mr. Vladislav he had spoken to Cory the day of his disappearance but the terms were good. A compromise had been reached and they even drank on the deal. He claimed that Cory was afraid to return home. Cory didn't know how Sean would take the news of the deal but Anton reassured him that things would be fine. The last time he saw Cory the Irishman was walking out of his restaurant, heading toward a waiting car. I wrote down all the information that Anton could give me. When the conversation was finished he dropped his cigarette and squashed it with his shoe. He bid me farewell before turning to walk away.

Happy that things had not turned out bad I too headed for my car. Right now I just wanted to be back in the safety of the office. As I passed by an extremely large metal cargo container I heard voices. I couldn't stop myself from looking up to see if maybe a dock worker was about. Instead I was horrified by what I saw. An officer kneeled on the damp concrete, his hands bound behind his back and duct tape over his mouth. Two rather muscular thugs were talking in what may have been Russian. Both of them were brandishing large firearms. A third man joined the party, carrying only a small pistol with a silencer. Without a word he walked up to the cop and shot him in the head. I was terrified. My feet kept me rooted in spot even though my brain screamed at me to run. The man with the pistol seemed to sense me presence. He looked right at me. Only then did fear finally take over and I bolted, running faster than I ever had before.