Title: Tales From The Badge: Under The Shield
Author: Buffywatcher
Feedback: Constructive comments always welcome: Jinxascendant@hotmail.com
Pairing: S/A
Rating: Strong R
Spoilers: None, completely AU
Warnings: All-Human AU, Violence, M/M relationship, Language, all the good stuff.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them for a bit of harmless fun. All characters, recognisable likenesses are retained by their owner and accredited license holders.
Live Journal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/jinxwatcher
Personal Websites: The NightWatch: http://www.geocities.com/stormbuffsinc/lockdown.html &
My Older and Non-Spangel works: http://www.geocities.com/stormbuffsinc/index.html
Work Archived At: The Crypt: http://home.att.net/~lubakmetyk/crypt.htm#buffywatcher
Writer's Notes: For the purposes of this story some details have been changed. Giles is in his early to mid 40's and both Liam and William are in their early 30's. This story takes place in an AU setting and is loosely based on a Challenge concept by GF for the Forging_Ghost Anniversary Ficathon. This isn't the EXACT idea put forth in the Challenge, but it's my take on the basic idea and I hope you like it Stony. Please excuse any minor discrepancies or artist license. As always thanks are going out to GF, MarieC, Luba, and Mera my most excellent group of Beta/Editors.
Writer's Credits: This series and story is loosely based on the FGF Anniversary Challenge #13 by GF for the Forging_Ghost Anniversary Ficathon and it's dedicated to GF and his excellent Group over at Forging_Ghost. This story will contain a brief reference to the movie Seven, starring Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt.
Distribution: If I've already been given permission to archive my work please consider it yours if you want it. If I haven't and you would like to archive it please do, all I ask is that you email me and tell me where it's going so I can visit.
Series Summary: Detectives Liam O'Shae and Wil Falkner join with their former
Story Summary: The hunt for a deranged serial killer reunites two extraordinary men as the manhunt begins.
*Introspective commentary*
Chapter One
Nothing is ever still in this city. People come and people go; an amorphous sea of humanity that constantly flows like an inexorable river of lives. Some are bright-eyed and sleekly furred like the noisy seals that populate the coves, basking in the sunshine of their easily comfortable lives; defying one to overlook them. Others cling to the safety of familiarity and the comfort of their daily routine. Like the barnacles locked on their rocks, they hold the world at a distance, safe behind their shells but for those few brief seconds that they invite the world past their barriers. It is a fleeting feast, an orgy of rapturous gluttony as they scramble for the necessities of life, only to flee once more into the safety of their shells. Some soar over it all, on feathered wings that know no bounds but those they are strong enough to surpass. No need for the tenuous safety of solid ground, those few, those free and privileged few. Then there are the small, the quick flashes from the corner of your eye that are gone even as you're noticing them. The nameless faces, living their unnoticed lives, and there and yet never seen, even when they're right in front of us. The people we see often enough to remember their faces and maybe we have even engaged in the vague obscurities of polite chitchat but for the life of us we could not tell you their name. The people that we see passing us on the street, flashes of faces from car windows, a brief interlude in one of life's endless lines we've all found ourselves standing in. They are the building blocks of society, the day to day workings of our lives impossible without them and yet unknown until they become the prey; their fifteen minutes of fame and the only cost, an eternity in the ground. In the depths, in the shadowy and dark recesses, in the places where night reigns even in the bright sunlight of the day, there is the place of monsters. Sleek and streamlined, clothed in death, wrapped in leather, denim, and wickedness with their bright and shiny teeth sunk deep into the flesh of the innocent; death in the city has a form.
Death is no stranger to the city, it can be found in every home, on every corner, and in every walk of life. It unites us all in the festering fear of our mortality. A King will welcome a Pauper as a Brother in times of distress when the threat of violence looms and casts its dark pall of entropy and apathy over the populace. And so some events can unite a community and force us to look beyond our own lives.
Murder is quite sadly nothing new in a city the size of
The first murder didn't even make the newspaper. Simon Parks had long ago fallen through society's cracks, one of the countless homeless that pushed every Shelter to its capacity and beyond. A simple and harmless old man that survived on the kindness of strangers, who would pass by his corner and soothe their meagre humanitarian instincts with the offer of a few cents.
The kindness of the last stranger he would ever meet would be sadly nonexistent and in no way humanitarian. The body was found on his corner in an almost peaceful repose against a streetlight. Peaceful that is until a Good Samaritan tried to shake the old man awake and the body tipped over to reveal the blood-soaked shirt and viciously slashed throat that had been concealed by his slumped pose and old ratty black wool coat. How sad that he should have the notoriety in death that he never had in life but it was the meagre notice of a much beleaguered Police force and even more jaded Coroner. Not much of an epitaph for eighty years of life. The murder was written off to just another pointless street crime, the scattered remnants of a man's life relegated to a sadly rather small box gathering dust on a neglected shelf in the station evidence vault. No one would pay much attention to the lone letter that arrived without a return address to the station as it was filed away as just one more prank.
The second and third murders happened fairly quickly and small paragraph sized notice made the newspaper purely on the grounds of the bizarre nature of the murders. Luther Oliver was an attractive but simpleminded young man and he was a regular sight in the small mostly Jewish community that he called home. His life was a simple one of odd jobs and whatever various tasks the people of his neighbourhood needed done. Jonah Samuels was an upstanding member of the same community, the latest in a long family line of tailors to run a small but thriving shop in a quiet corner of the neighbourhood. Neither man was known by their neighbours to be anything but the mild and pleasant personalities they presented to the world. It made the manner of their death all the more bizarre.
The men would be found in a grotesque parody of some sick and twisted shop display, their bodies riddled with dozens of stab marks and artfully arranged in the window of the Tailor's shop. Jonah Samuels had been posed leaning over the stab-riddled body of Luther Oliver, his dead hand still clutched around the pair of deadly Tailor's scissors sticking out of Luther's heart. A larger pair of shears protrudes from Samuels' back, the damage of the large puncture wounds marking his back in a macabre display. The scene was clearly intended to look as though the two men had killed each other and some effort was taken with the staging, dead limbs were propped up, bodies held in place with wire or electrical cords. The lack of much blood at the scene has the junior
No clues to either murder were ever found and eventually what evidence there was would be boxed up and sent to evidence storage and one more unsolved murder case would find its way into the already bulging cold case file.
The months following would see more murders as the crime rate rose with the thermostat. There were always more murders when the hot summers seem to drive the already irritable populace into heat-driven frenzies of emotion. Crime rates all over the city were on the rise and the Police force was thinly spread over a distance too great for them to cover accurately, but so it always happens when the mercury rises.
Murders four and five were given quite the write-up in the local newspaper. Manuel Santiago was an educated young man, a tireless and fanatical crusader for Latino rights. Well known for his often inflammatory views on what he called 'Latino Suppression by affluent Anglo-cultures', that he was murdered actually came as little surprise to most people. His call for more militant action against discrimination and the corruption of 'white' culture had been answered and someone had taken action but not in the way
In the wake of the civil unrest that arose with Santiago's murder, the police took to the streets in their riot gear to try and calm the seething masses ready to break a race war on the streets of Los Angeles and the case cooled and finally went frozen, stone-cold dead. The police had a bigger problem and what manpower there was to be had was needed to channel their efforts into stopping the city from tearing itself apart along racial lines.
No one would pay much attention to the death of one Roger "Rocko" Rheed. A thief with a rap sheet of offences stretching back into his unremarkable youth, he would not be mourned much by society. His life of violence against others would; fittingly in most people's opinions; in the end be visited upon him and his burned remains were found amidst the charred and smoking remains of the goods he'd stolen from countless victims over the years. The death would have been written off as an accidental death by fire if the medical examiner hadn't found something remarkably surprising at the routine autopsy.
It would seem that the aging thief was already dead at the time the fire was started as his lungs show no evidence of smoke inhalation. The cause of his death however was asphyxiation by obstruction, a huge wad of rolled up money had been forced down his throat and he had slowly strangled to death from the inside. With the city in the grip of civil unrest and most of the evidence burned beyond recognition, the murder was blamed on a rival thief or someone that Rheed had crossed and the evidence was quietly packed away. And so another life was relegated to the bureaucratic red taped wrapped world of a dusty and dark evidence vault as more 'important' cases received the lion's share of the attention.
The pattern could have gone on in ignorance if it were not for the sixth murder of a victim the
The young man was found in the bowels of one of the innumerable massage parlours that dotted the
There wasn't a mark on the young man's body and evidence that would seem to suggest that the death was by natural causes, in all likelihood a heart attack or possibly an aneurysm. It may well have been left at that if the Navy hadn't pushed for an investigation, young servicemen in the prime of life don't just drop dead of natural causes with the extensive medical tests they are subjected to before being cleared for service. It was a very red-faced county coroner who would present the findings of the second autopsy of the body. A small pinprick sized puncture mark had been found hidden at the base of his hairline, easily overlooked in the initial autopsy. Toxicology cultures from the tissue surrounding the tiny wound yielded a very rare toxin commonly used in the
With the arrival of another anonymous letter at the Station house handling the case, this time a keen eyes detective was able to discern its importance and this letter would find its way to the head of the detective division. An immediate internal investigation yielded five additional letters that had never been opened and five equally bizarre deaths whose only tie was that each was followed by the arrival of another letter. At last they knew the truth. A new serial killer had set up shop in the city of
Everyone knew that it would only be a matter of time before the Modern Day Jack the Ripper struck again.
Chapter Two
Detective Second Class Liam O'Shae pulls up outside the latest crime scene and immediately starts cursing. He stares at the circus of newspaper vans, the sea of cable broadcast antennae, the army of reporters, and the blinding flashes of a wave of paparazzi cameras going off and growls silently.
"Officers!" He barks as he hops out of his black 1967
Liam ignores the questions shouted at him by the press and the cries for interviews as he strides into the ostentatious home of one of the city's wealthiest families. Councilman Donald Grant was the product of too much money and not enough humanity. The aging former Senator's views on everything from abortion to human rights would swing wildly according to whomever was willing to 'contribute' the most to his re-election campaign. His personal life was one of excess, with every outrageous whim all too easily supplied by his family's old blood wealth and his not un-lucrative political career.
There had been rumours for years that the good councilman was anything but, yet no charges had ever been pressed. He had long ago stopped raging to the heavens about the injustices of a corrupt system, it's all that he can do to just keep trying to make his own part of the world just a little bit better.
"Liam, we're over here son." A warm voice calls drawing his attention to where his division Captain, Kevyn Lorne is speaking to the pretty and petite powerhouse that is Winifred Burkle, the Chief Medical Examiner for
"That would explain the ocean of press I had to swim through to get in here." Liam replies with a grimace. He throws up his hand at the stormy expression breaking over the Captain's face. "I had some of the uniforms start escorting them off the property." The Captain's expression relaxes and Liam finds himself wanting to smile. Captain Lorne's easy going nature and almost paternal interest in the officers under his command has instilled a deep affection for the older man in almost everyone that has served with him and he is no exception.
"Good, the leeches will probably camp out at the bottom of the drive but at least they won't be trooping over any possible evidence down there." The Captain says with a dark expression that Liam has seen before. He expects that the patrolmen stationed outside will be getting calls to report to his office when they get back.
"What are we looking at here?" Liam asks glancing around at the sea of activity. "Do we have a cause of death yet?" He asks glancing at the diminutive but brilliant young coroner.
"I'll know more when we can get the body back for an autopsy but judging from my preliminary findings I'd say a drug overdose is likely a contributing factor. There was evidence of recent sexual activity and judging by the distended nature of his abdomen I'd say that he'd eaten an extremely large meal recently." Winifred reports; glancing at her clipboard. "The Councilman's body was found in the pool but until we do the autopsy I won't know if drowning was a contributing factor to his death. Frankly I'm amazed by what I've been able to deduce so far. I've seen no less than two APPARENT possibilities that could have been the actual cause of death or a contributing factor thereof." The frustration in her voice is clear and by the stubborn glint in her eye, Liam knows that she's beginning to take these cases personally.
"Who found the body?" He asks.
"The live-in housekeeper, a widow, Mrs. Olivia Sterling arrived for home from a late visit with her children and noticed that the exterior lights were on in the rear pool area. She glanced out and saw the body of the Councilman floating face down in the pool and immediately called 911 and tried to fish him out. Unfortunately she's a rather frail older lady and was unable to do anything but jump in and try to turn him over. We took her statement and two from the paramedics that arrived and they suggested Mrs.
"Judging by what I've seen I'd say he's been dead anywhere between three and four hours prior to the call for assistance the Housekeeper placed. The killer had more than enough time to be long gone by the time she would have returned." Winifred says disheartened by the meagre amount of evidence that all these cases seem to have in common.
"Mrs. Sterling did have one bit of helpful advice." Captain Lorne reveals. "Tonight wasn't her usual night off; it seems the Councilman suggested that she take the night off and spend it with her children up in the Valley as the holidays are around the corners. She said that it was very out of character for the Councilman to be that generous and she was left with the impression that he wanted to be alone this evening. She overheard him ordering dinner from a catering service for two and assumed that he was planning to entertain this evening but she left for her visit early that morning and she never saw whom he had invited over."
"Not a lot of help then. Do we even know if it was a man or a woman?" Liam growls.
"I'm afraid not Liam, the Councilman's sexual habits are...were rather infamous in political circles, he was openly bisexual." Lorne replies.
"I would say it was a man." Fred says suddenly. "Judging by the evidence of sexual activity, I'd be almost certain his sexual partner at least, was male." Fred's brow furrows. "In fact I'd say now, and I'll be positive once I can double check my records, that several of the other victims had sex with a male prior to their deaths. I don't know if that will play a part in this case, I may have to reorder autopsies on the other victims to be sure."
"Could you get on that Fred? We hadn't considered that these crimes may be sexually motivated. We may be dealing with a homicidal serial rapist who is killing his victims to try and cover his tracks."
"Sure thing Liam, I'll bring my reports over straight away." Fred catches the eye of a pair of beefy assistant coroners and motions for them to wrap it up and follows the pair as they wheel out the gurney carrying the Councilman's body bag.
Lorne watches as Liam watches her go and notices the muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Something has been bothering you about these cases." It's not a question, he's known this young man since he was first transferred to his division from the NYPD and he can read him pretty well.
"I'm sure I'm just being overly sensitive about these murders. They remind me of a case I was a part of when I was a rookie detective." He admits. "It can't be connected though, we caught that psycho and he was executed over eight years ago."
"Are you sure you caught the man responsible?" Lorne asks, trying to be as delicate as he can. No officer likes to think that they could have had a part in putting away, much less the execution of, an innocent man.
"When he realised how close we were to nailing him to the wall, Laszlo planted a bomb in the station house. My partner and our Lieutenant were supervising the evacuation when it went off and they were both critically injured and several other officers and one civilian were killed outright. We recovered a secondary device that failed to detonate and we were able to pull off clear sets of prints. The son of a bitch was so arrogant that he hadn't bothered to wear gloves."
"You were involved in the Dimitri Laszlo Case?" Lorne asks surprised as Liam nods.
That was one of the most publicised trials in the history of the
"Why don't we get out of here and go get a drink while the C.S.I. boys do their thing?" He suggests. "We're just in the way here for now and officially we're off-duty." Liam is silent for a minute than nods. "Would you mind if we rode together? I rode in with one of the units." Liam nods and leads the way outside.
A quick look around has him smiling as the last of the press are being herded down the drive by the polite but insistent officers monitoring the scene. He slips behind the wheel and waits for his Captain to get into the passenger seat but notices that he's stop to talk to the Sergeant monitoring the scene.
He settles back to wait patiently as his mind drifts over the past, a past he'd sooner have forgotten.
Lieutenant Rupert Giles was simply the most brilliant man he'd ever met. Half-English and Half-American, the older man had always seemed rather exotic. With a double PhD in forensic psychology and clinical psychology he was rather unusual for choosing a life on the police force. He took him under his wing from the moment he met him and in many ways he is the reason that he is still a Detective to this day. He's been offered promotions but since that would mean leaving the detective division; he decided to turn them down. Giles had been more of a Father to him than whatever drunken lout of a man could have claimed the actual honours for that. His Mother claimed to have no idea who his Father was and given her endless parade of boyfriends, each worse than the last, he can't honestly say he's sorry that he never met his Father. He was a drunken lout like all the rest no doubt, he always thought. He also had Giles to thank for introducing him to the best damn partner he'd ever had. To this day still no one comes close.
William Falkner was just as exotic as Giles. He was born to an English Diplomat of a Father and Half-American Mother. He had the rather unique birthright of being born on an international flight almost exactly half way between
A one time student at the
Inspired by his
Wil had been remarkable in one other way. He was quite simply the most beautiful man Liam had ever seen. You would have expected a man with the face of God and a body shaped purely for sin would have no shortage of dates and an ego the size of the
For a year they were inseparable, as partners or lovers and no one before or since; has ever made him feel the depths of emotions that Wil could. They were happy, all until that fateful day when he found his lover and their mentor dying amidst the rubble of their smoking precinct. Dropping the box with the ring he'd snuck out to pick up he frantically remembered starting CPR as his fellow officers ran past him to begin digging the wounded from the rubble. The hours that followed would become a blur of angry shouts, terrified shaking, and paralysing fear as his emotions sung wildly as he waited for word on Wil and Giles' conditions. Others would tell him later that his actions saved Wil's life; that he would have died before help had arrived if he hadn't been breathing for him and keeping his heart beating. He doesn't know about any of that, only about his guilt at having made an excuse to leave early so that he could stop by the jewellers and pick up his anniversary gift for Wil. If he had been there it may have made a difference, maybe Giles and Wil wouldn't have been hurt in the explosion. Or maybe all three of them could have died in it together, but at least he wouldn't have abandoned the two men that are the closest things he's ever had to having a family.
Wil would recover fully in time and thanks to modern medicine, he bore surprisingly few scars from the ordeal and no permanent physical maladies. Sadly Giles would not be so lucky, as the explosion weakened the structure and his back was broken as a support cracked under the strain and pinned him beneath its weight. While he would retain some feeling and sensation below the waist, he would never recover to the point that he would walk again and with a city full of eager young and physical fit officers just itching for their shot at Detective, he was quickly and quietly retired from service. True his severance package and his pension were both very generous and Giles took the news in his stride, it was still a shocking and heartbreaking turn of events.
He couldn't handle his wildly swinging emotions, his numbing fear that he would second guess himself at a critical moment and someone would get hurt. He began to push Wil away, trying in his own twisted way to protect him and keep him safe and for a long time he refused to let him ruin their relationship. That changed the night he came home to find his lover in bed with a woman from work, the look on Wil's face, the betrayal in his eyes was terrible to behold.
He'd expected an angry shouting match and the usual fireworks that always marked their disagreements before, as their fiery tempers were legendary among their friends. Somehow watching Wil quietly turn around and silently leave was a million times worse. He didn't even care about Darla, though he could have killed her in the days that followed as she flaunted their new 'relationship' all over their new stationhouse. He saw the censorious gazes their fellow officers took little pains to hide and he felt every ounce of their disapproval and called himself a fool for what he'd deliberately done to William.
He remembers the pain of having to find out that Wil had resigned and was planning to move overseas to
"You know you still have the best car on the force Liam." Lorne says as he hops in, jarring him back to the present.
"Thank you; it was a gift from a friend." Liam says softly as he starts the car and easily manoeuvres down the semi-circular drive and down the length driveway. He hides a smile as he rockets past the sea of clamouring press, scattering them like leaves in the wind, sending several jumping up onto the sidewalk amidst angry shouts.
"That wasn't very nice." Lorne laughs and it's obvious that he's only saying that for form's sake as he settles back to enjoy the drive with a smile on his face.
Chapter Three
Liam pulls into the quiet parking lot of the Stonehenge Bar & Grill, a favourite hang out for the officers from their station and the neighbouring precincts. He finds a spot near the front and pulls in with a skilled twirl of the wheel that inserts the car neatly into the parking space. The pair wave to several familiar faces as they hop out and head inside with Liam pausing only briefly to engage the car alarm.
The restaurant is packed, and the line of people waiting to get in is very impressive. The pair heads confidently for a small side entry, pausing to smile at the rather large bouncer stationed beside the door and enter. They find themselves in a quieter area with several empty tables still left to be had and warmly greeted by people sitting at several of the other tables. The owner of the restaurant Gareth Stone, affectionately called fittingly enough 'Stony' by friends and rivals alike, is an ex-police officer and he encourages their business aggressively. There's nothing that could make his business safer than for it to be the well known hang out of a legion of loyal off-duty policemen.
Liam glances around, catching the eye of the waitress who smiles and nods that she'll be right there. The old world feel of the restaurant is relaxed and comforting, like a pub in a quiet English village; which isn't surprising since its fiery and stubborn owner moved here from London after his retirement. It's always been a favourite hang out of his and Stony is always sure to try and have some tables set aside for his regulars, even having gone so far as to set aside this section just for his friends on the force.
The waitress appears with a smile and bubbly recites the night's specials and takes their order and quietly moves off. She's back quickly with their drinks and a small platter of complimentary appetisers and bustles off again to put in their drink orders.
Lorne sips his Sea Breeze and sighs at the refreshing tang of grapefruit and cranberry juice. He sets his drink down and watches as Liam drinks his whiskey with a far off expression on his face.
"Do you want to talk about what's bothering you about this case?" He asks, keeping his voice deliberately soft and quiet in deference to the sensitive topic.
"Laszlo was a real sick son of a bitch, who had an ego the size of
Lorne grimaces the thought of what those crime scene must have been like especially for a young and at the time, Rookie Detective is disturbing. "I remember a bit about the case, it made all the papers even on this coast. I remember the bombing as well. A lot of good men were lost that day.
"My Lieutenant at the time, Rupert Giles was crippled in the blast. He's still in a wheelchair to this day, he probably always will be. My partner William Falkner was seriously injured, but eventually made a full recovery. Quite a few people weren't so lucky, if you can even call it luck at all."
Lorne whistles melodically. "Exalted company you were keeping back then Liam. Rupert Giles is arguably one of the best criminal profilers in the country. I hear they have him on permanent retainer at
"Wil left the NYPD after his recovery and moved to
"Oh! Of course, I remember the story now, exalted company indeed Liam. You must have been an amazing team back then." Lorne says somewhat surprised but he's not sure why he is. Liam O'Shae is one of the best damn Cops and Detectives he's ever met.
"We were the best." Liam says, talking a deep drink of his whiskey, the haunted look back in his eyes again. "Laszlo would probably still be out there killing and mutilating people if it wasn't for the work Giles and Wil did." Liam goes on to explain how they solved the case.
"And don't forget yourself Liam. It sounds like it was a team effort and you all did your jobs and brought him in. That's something to be proud of son. So what about this case reminds you of Laszlo?"
"Giles was always better at explaining this stuff. "Liam says with a grimace. "Laszlo was a total wacko." Lorne coughs to avoid laughing at his friend's use of such 'technical' psychological lingo. "Laszlo copied the ideas for murder spree from watching some movie in the theatre that in his unbalanced mind was the blueprint for his rise to greatness. Where Manson heard 'messages' in music, Laszlo claimed that the movie was his message from God."
"I remember now, it was that Morgan Freeman movie..." Lorne trails off. "I always forget the name of it. It was something to do with bible, I remember that much."
Liam nods. "The killer used scenarios drawn from the biblical references to the seven deadly sins of mankind. It occurs to me that all of the notes we've received all have similar content mentioning things like 'divine' wrath and 'righteous' retribution. I'm positive we put away the right man, Laszlo was the 'Prophecy Killer' that was proven beyond a doubt when he tried to kill everyone involved in the investigation to catch him. His prints were all over the bombs and he practically confessed and dared use to execute him, said his 'Lord' would never allow him to die."
"Could he have had an Accomplice, someone that could be killing in his name now?" Lorne wonders out loud.
"We never found any evidence that would lead us to think that he had an Accomplice. As arrogant as that son of a bitch was he'd probably have come right out and told us if he had."
"What do you think we could be dealing with here, some kind of copycat killer or just some nut job that happens to have some fetish about sinners?" Lorne asks; his brow furrowed.
"Determining that was always Giles' specialty rather than mine. Wil was our leg man he had...has the damnedest ability to get people to talk. I swear he could get a stone to confess its deepest, darkest secrets if he wanted to." Liam smiles faintly for the first time that evening. "I was just the muscle."
Lorne smiles knowing for a fact that Liam is a much more capable officer than that. "Do you think Mr. Giles and your old partner would be interested in possibly giving us the benefit of their experience?"
"I'm sure Giles would be willing. We still call each other every so often and we do the Christmas and birthday card bit every year. I can give him a call when I get home, see if he'll be interested." He hesitates for a few seconds. "I can track down Wil and ask him if he wouldn't mind a trip back to the States for a little working
Both men quiet as the smiling waitress brings their dinner to the table and skilfully balancing the tray manages to offload their loaded plates with easy skill. "Stony's got a new attraction in the main bar if you're interest fellas."
"What insane marketing scheme has he come up with this time Eve?" Lorne asks with a grin. Stony's notorious for always coming up with new ways to increase his profits and some have been more successful than others.
"He's set up a Karaoke stage." Eve says with a grin. "It's open mic from nine 'til
"I wouldn't want to burst any ear drums." Liam says with complete honesty and a modest shrug but raises his eyebrows questioningly at Lorne.
Lorne laughs and vigorously shakes his head. "Could you even imagine me on a singing on a stage?"
Liam chuckles. "Sure I could, in a gold lame lounge suit." He ducks the wadded up napkin Lorne throws at him as Eve laughs and heads off to greet some new arrivals, leaving the still chuckling pair to dine in peace.
Chapter Four
The drive home is as beautiful, but his tired eyes see little but the road ahead of him. He'd driven back to the station after he dropped the Captain off at his home after their dinner and ended up staying for several hours. So long in fact that he was still there when the Captain arrived refreshed after several hours of sleep and he immediately received a terse but caring order to go home. He fought it briefly but it as just for show, he was glad to go.
The decision to live in
The sun is well into the sky as Liam approaches his home, slowing only briefly to hit the control for the garage door opener, he stops at the bottom of the driveway and waits. He glances at his home and he smiles. It's a very large home, much larger than he needs at almost four thousand square feet on a sprawling acre lot. He drives into the spacious two car garage and a casual flick of his thumb has the garage door lowering once more to shut him inside its welcoming darkness. He enters his home through the garage and hurries to deactivate the alarm. He drops his keys and the contents of his pockets into the bowl on the small table resting beneath the alarm pad in the foyer.
He stretches, the peaceful silence broken by a wide yawn, as his eyes rove over his home. The décor is in a rather eclectic mix of modern and classic styles, with the emphasis on comfort but with minimal clutter. What furniture there is in the rooms is of the finest make, deep and rich woods, with simple lines but warm with age. To counter the dark strength of the furniture the colour schemes in the room are soft, clear neutral colours. Dots of rich jewel-toned, bold colours are spread around to ease the eye between the rich aged woods and the clean, uncluttered neutrality of the main colour theme. The result is a light and airy feeling that lends itself well to
He stretches again as he strips his coat off and hangs it up at the coat stand as he heads for his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. A soft meow welcomes him as he steps into the room and a delicate and ethereal Lilac Point Siamese lifts its head regally, its blue eyes blinking sleepily.
Liam immediately crosses the room when another soft meow sounds out, this one just a little bit more demanding. His fingertips are tender as they caress the pinkish-grey tipped ears and pet the creamy white fur of her back. "Good morning Miss Edith." He says with a soft smile as another meow, this one sounding distinctly pleased with his good manners, is his answer. "Are you hungry, Sweetheart?" He chuckles as the lithe body is suddenly pressed to his and a petal soft pink-grey muzzle is tenderly rubbed against his jaw and a low rumbling purr soon shakes the slender body. "I'll take that as a yes."
Liam stands and slips his shirt off and quickly changes into a simple silk tank top and matching dark green sleep pants, glad that he took a few precious minutes to show at the station before he left. Unlike the rest of his home which boasts of oversized windows; his bedroom is deliberately windowless, located in the back of the house in the quietest corner of the property. Working nights and sleeping during the day can at times feel a bit unnatural, but after so many nights it's become his preferred lifestyle. The rest of the world however seems to prefer the daytime, after all, no telemarketer on the planet is going to call your home at midnight, but more than a few find noon an excellent time to practice their annoying art. That was one reason why he chose not to have a phone in his bedroom. It is his haven from the world and only those he invites may trespass. If it's personal or urgent and work related everyone knows to call his cell phone and they're all aware that to do so before the late afternoon, it had better be very important. A final glance around assures him that everything is tidy and he pauses to turn down the covers on his bed before following the softly padding form of Miss Edith out of the room.
He follows Miss Edith to the kitchen and shakes his head with a rueful chuckle as she hops up onto one of the barstools at the breakfast bar and looks just like a queen waiting at the counter of a diner. He crosses to a door off to one side of the kitchen and slides open the pocket doors to gain access to his roomy walk-in pantry.
"What shall it be this morning my beauty, Tuna Time, Seafood Medley, or Shrimp Feast? Hmm none of those sound appealing this morning I take it? You want some of my chicken with brown rice don't you?" A delicate meow answers him and he emerges holding a bag of brown rice and a can of chicken broth which he sets down on the counter. He lifts down a heavy skillet and starts that heating on a medium flame while he lifts down a pot from one of the overhanging caddies and sets that onto a back burner and starts that heating, also under a low flame. He retrieves the can of stock and the rice and sets the rice on the counter beside the stove. He opens the can of broth and pours it into the pot and glancing at his well stocked spice rack he quickly seasons the broth until it's just how he wants it then opens the rice and dumps it in. After stirring for a few moments he turns down the heat and lifts down the pot's cover and covers it, leaving it to simmer for now. Sweeping his open hand a few inches from the skillet he makes sure that it's hot enough and then crosses to the side by side built-in freezer and refrigerator unit. He fetches a butcher's package of thinly filleted chicken breasts and a stick of real butter and two plastic storage tins of fresh Parsley and garlic. He sets those on the other counter beside the stove and pulls a bag of mixed oriental vegetables from the freezer that he also sets down on the counter.
He is briskly efficient and within moments several of the chicken fillets are browning in a little oil, butter, garlic and a mix of black pepper, a little dried Rosemary, and a bit of Parsley. With that well on its way he chops more Parsley and Rosemary and sets that aside in two neat piles. He carefully opens the simmering pot and stirs the cooking rice and carefully drops in the Rosemary and opens the vegetables and pours them carefully into the pot, stirring them into the rice and replacing the cover.
It doesn't take the thinly filleted chicken long to brown and he fetches a place and carefully lifts out the chicken to let it rest. He drops a little more butter into the skillet and then opens one of the tall cabinets and removes a bottle of fine white wine that he uses for cooking and pours in a fair measure and deglazes the pan and lets it reduce while he tidies up the kitchen. He's always found it's easier to clean up as he goes along so that the final clean up is usually very quick and painless. By the time he's done with that the chicken is well rested and the sauce in the skillet has reduced nicely. He quickly chops the chicken into bite sized pieces and adds it to the sauce to finish cooking through in the hot sauce and pulls it from the heat to a cool burner.
He opens a cabinet and pulls out a long but fairly shallow casserole dish and sets it beside the stove. He gets a dinner plate out and a smaller matching dessert plate and sets that on the breakfast bar, setting the smaller plate in front of her furry Highness. He sets his plate at the next seat over and sets out a set of utensils for him and a wine glass. "Well that should do it; just have to wait from here kitty."
He glances around and seeing that there's nothing else that he can be doing right now takes a deep breath and crosses to the phone. He leaves the cordless phone in the cradle and hits the speaker button then the series of buttons that access the memory and crosses back to the stove to watch over their dinner. He swallows heavily as the ringing starts and takes a deep breath as it stops.
"Rupert Giles' office, this is Buffy may I help you?" A soft feminine voice answers.
"Good morning Buffy, is the old man around?" Liam unconsciously smiles. Rupert has spoken finally of the young woman who works as his Secretary and though they've never met in person, she has always had some kind words for him when he calls.
"Hi Liam, yes he's in but on one of the other lines, would you like to wait?"
"Yes, please. How is the old reprobate doing?"
"He's terrific but a little bored at the moment I think, our case load has been light lately, I guess all the psychos are taking off for the Holidays too." He can hear the smile in her voice. "He's off the other line; let me transfer you in just a moment. Oh and Liam? Happy Holidays." There's a brief clicking sound as the line transfers.
"Liam you son of a bitch, I was beginning to wonder if I'd be hearing from you before next Christmas. How have you been Kid?" A gruff male voice barks.
Liam stifles a chuckle, knowing that Giles' gruffness is all just for show. "I'm alright, overworked as usual. That's one of the reasons why I'm calling. How would you like to come out to
"If you want me, you've got me. I can book flight out tomorrow. I'll get Buffy to make the arrangements and give you a call back with the details?"
"I've got a couple of spare rooms, so don't bother with the hotel, you can stay with me. I hope you can stay for a while?" He knows his voice sounds desperate and needy but since he is, he doesn't mind that it sounds that way.
"I could stay for months!" Giles replies with a chuckle. "They'll arrange to send me any files that I may need if some work comes up. One good thing about this job, I can do it as easily in
"Thanks Giles." Liam says quietly, his own heart lying naked in his voice. "I'll have the case file and details sent to the secure line in your office so you can look them over." He pauses for a moment as he needlessly straights the tea towel flipped over the handle bar on the oven door. "Giles...do you have Wil's number? I...I really need to talk to him."
"It must be some case." Giles says quietly. He can almost hear Giles thinking. After a moment his voice sounds out again giving him the number. "That's his cell phone. It's on a special satellite network so that it works anywhere on the planet I think. He called me once from
"Thank you Rupert. It's not just the case, I...think that maybe it's time." He doesn't need to elaborate, not for Giles he knows. He pauses to turn off the burner and pulls the pot off the stove and carefully lifts the cover, letting the steam vent away from him. "How is he Rupert?" He asks as he carefully tips the now fluffy rice and vegetable mixture into the casserole dish. He adds the chicken and rice over the top and sprinkles on the Parsley he reserved over the top.
"He's well, had a bit of trouble a few months back, got shot in the arm and a leg apprehending one of the Terrorists responsible for that school bombing."
Liam winces and sighs, he would have given his right arm to spare Wil that pain. "He's recovered?" He asks as he uses the spoon to dish out some food for Miss Edith then places a portion on his plate as she begins to delicately devour her meal. He crosses to the wine caddy and pulls out the slightly sweet white wine that he prefers for drinking and pours himself a glass before replacing the special cover and setting the bottle back in the caddy.
"He's fully healed he said, but his leg is still a little weak so he's still on medical leave for now." Giles replies.
"That must be driving him crazy by now." Liam notes with a grin.
"Stark raving loony he said." Giles agrees with a chuckle. "He told me if they didn't clear him by this week, he was going to have to do something drastic, like start a bar fight, to give him something to do." Giles snickers and Liam grins. Wil was always the wild child of the trio with a restless energy and a capacity for trouble that was unmatched by anyone.
"Well I need him for his brains, not just his brawn, so maybe he'll accept my offer and invitation." Liam says hopefully, taking a bite of his food and chasing it down with a sip of wine.
"I hope that he does Liam. It's been too damn long since I've seen both of my boys." Giles say brusquely. "He always asks about you too." Giles clears his throat. "So what are you doing typing up my phone when you could be calling him for then?"
Liam laughs. "Alright Old man, I'll have the station forward you that information. Call me when you have the details on your flight and I'll arrange to pick you up...and Wil if he's coming."
Giles promises to call as soon as they have the details worked out and they say their goodbyes and he crosses to the phone and hits the disconnect button. He hits the speaker button and hurriedly taps in the number that Giles gave him before he loses his nerve. He rushes back to his food and takes a deep gulp of wine and tries to calm himself down as the phone rings several more times.
"Falkner." Liam's heart in his throat at the sound of that slightly husky voice with that purring accent that's always reminded him of sex and chocolate and sleeping late wrapped in a lover's arms; wrapped in his arms. His voice sounds a little abrupt and faintly angry and he briefly considers darting over to the phone and disconnecting the call like a nervous teenager.
"Hello Wil." He says after he finally finds his voice. He hears a curious thudding sound in the background and the sound of something heavy landing somewhere in the vicinity of Wil and the phone.
"Hello Liam." He finds a smile curving his lips as the voice definitely warms somewhat.
"I need you." He says simply. He doesn't know what else to say to breach the gap between the two of them but he remembers a promise they made to each other, long ago. If they should every need each other all they would have to do is say those three simple words and whatever their lives were like, no matter what past stood between them, it would be set aside and they'd be there for each other. He's always been a loner, having little contact with his Mother or half-sister and actually preferring that and Wil's parents showed little concern for him when he defied their wishes to become a police officer. All they've ever really had is each other and their mutual regard for their Mentor/Father figure in the form of Giles. Part of him relies on that to still be true and Wil's immediate reply shows that reliance to be justified.
"Where and when?" And that as they say is that. It has always been this way between them, he knows. If he had ever heard those words from Wil, his response would have been identical.
"Fly into LAX; and whenever you can get your three-quarters English ass here." Liam replies gruffly. "Giles is flying in probably tomorrow or the day after."
"Let me make some calls Mate and let me ring you back. I'll tell you when I'm coming in." Wil answers simply. Again there are more strange sounds in the background.
"Wil, where are you?" Liam asks; his brows rose in sudden suspicion.
"Just some hole in the wall tavern in this backwater town I was passing through." Wil says finally after another loud thud.
"You're talking to me in the middle of a bar fight?" Liam says amazed as he realises what those sounds are. "Still on medical leave huh?" He asks amid snickering laughter.
"Not much of one no, these tossers couldn't fight their way out a wet paper bag." Wil's disgust is clear and Liam has to grin. "Giles told you about my little mishap, didn't he? You can tell him I'm fine, I must be; I'm the last one standing." Liam doesn't need to see him to know that Wil's mouth is curved up in his supremely confident, 'I'm better than you' smirk that always used to drive him crazy.
"You'll never change." Liam says with a grin and affectionate laughter in his voice.
"Change is only good if you need to buy something cheap." Wil quips. "How long of a trip am I looking at here? I think they owe me about three years worth of vacation time." Wil chuckles quietly.
"You can stay as long as you want to; I think Giles may be staying at least a few weeks. I've got a couple of spare rooms, Giles is going to be staying with me, and you're welcome to stay with me as well."
He's not sure how Wil will respond to that invitation and he thought twice about making it but he knows himself too well. If Wil is going to be staying anywhere in this town, it's going to be with him or he'll be crazy inside of an hour. He gives Wil his number and they say their goodbyes and he jogs over to disconnect the call.
While this is what he wished would happen, now that it has, he's scared to death. He's lost his appetite but he forces himself into a sense of normalcy and finishes his dinner and cleans up the kitchen and returns to his bedroom. His cell phone rings and he quickly sweeps it up and answers it. It's Giles with his travel arrangements which he jots down on a pad on the nightstand before sliding into his bed, propped up against a veritable mountain of pillows.
He carefully sets his cell phone down on the nightstand beside the bed and picks up a book on medieval weaponry and tries to focus but he soon knows it's impossible and sets the book aside. He tries to relax but his muscles are coiled like a spring and twitch and relax rhythmically. His cell phone rings a little over an hour later and he snaps it up before the first ring stops sounding out. "Hello."
"Hello Liam." Wil's voice sounds caressingly in his ear. "A mate of mine is a big corporate big wig with a jet and he flies to
"I think you can pack light, but that it would be a good idea." Liam says finally. "I can have the Captain pull some strings with customs to expedite your clearance."
He knows that Wil will interpret that as he should bring his service piece, but not bother with anything more...exotic. He knows that with his connections to the military in his youth, Wil has the uncanny ability to get anything from a sniper rifle to a bazooka from his contacts. He doesn't think he wants to explain why Wil would be bringing a bazooka along on his trip to the Captain.
"Alright mate, I'll see you soon. Take care, Liam." Again the warmth in Wil's voice causes a warm tingle low in his belly.
"Fly safely Wil. I'll be at the airport to meet you, probably with Giles." He replies finding a smiling curving his lips up sharply. Wil thanks him and hangs up, needing to make some final arrangements and start his packing so Liam lets him go.
After a few minutes of cradling the phone in his hand, he gently slips it into its charging stand and slips under the covers, curling his arms around a silk covered pillow and hugging it to his chest. It's not what...who he wants to be holding in his arms, but it's almost as soft and comfortable as the unforgettable feel of the silken warmth that once comforted him. Sleep comes easily this night with the memories for once pleasant and the sound of Wil's voice still ringing warmly in his ear.
Chapter Five
Liam waits impatiently at the gate for the private jet carrying Giles to taxi into place to offload its precious and much awaited passenger. With his physical limitations and the sensitive nature of the deep pool of skills he brings to the F.B.I. it's little wonder that they provide such 'luxuries' for their brain trust of which Giles is a much valued member. He watches as the jet slowly taxis into place and watches as the pilot and co-pilot exit the jet and assists his friend and one time
"Liam!" Giles says happily as he opens his arms and the younger man darts forward to enjoy an unselfconscious hug. "I've missed you son." Giles says warmly as Liam smiles as he straightens up, nodding as he catches the pilot's eye; that nods and quietly departs. "I want you to meet someone Liam."
Giles holds his hand out and the woman steps closer to take his hand once more. "Liam O'Shae I'd like you to meet Dr. Anya Jensen, she's my assistant and I hope one day my wife." She smiles warmly and ducks her head with modest shyness and Liam is enchanted as she lets go of Giles only long enough to dart forward and hug him before she's back at his side with her hand in his. The whole exchange took less than ten seconds but it was utterly charming.
"I'm very honoured to meet you. Rupert speaks of you often and with great fondness." Her voice is clear and strong and rings with sincerity and she meets his eyes boldly, her momentary shyness falling away.
"I'm pleased to meet you Anya. I hope that it's alright that you'll be sharing a room with Giles at my home rather than staying at a Hotel? I've got a single level home and its all wheelchair accessible."
"I don't mind at all, thank you for asking us Liam. I...we never sleep apart if we have a choice."
"I can certainly understand that." Liam says with a smile as Giles grins widely and Anya laughs quietly. "Wil's plane gets in at
"That sounds good." Anya says with a smile, stepping behind Giles wheelchair and following the gesturing sweep of Liam's arm indicating the direction the gate's in, the pair starts off.
It is a harried and cursing Liam who darts and weaves his way through the holiday crowds packing the busy airport almost to the rafters in a sea of humanity. It's taken him almost forty minutes to get Giles and Anya's suitcases and get them out to his car and back, meaning that Wil's plane should have already landed and begun disembarking its passengers. He's glad that he decided to borrow Lorne's SUV rather than bring the convertible as the rain that has been threatening to fall all day has finally given up its struggle and the rain is sheeting down, whipped by a chill wind that had him shivering within minutes.
He finally arrives at the gate and looks around trying to spot Anya and Giles in the milling crowd. By the number of people lingering in the area, it's pretty obvious that the plane must have offloaded its passengers already like he feared. He finally spots his friends over by a man wearing a calf length leather coat. As he approaches closer, he sees that his hair is fairly short on the sides and back and the longer top neatly swept back. He hides his disappointment that his hair is a shocking shade of platinum blond rather than the darker honey shades of Wil's hair. He casts a confused glance around the arrival lounge and wondering where that familiar mane of hair and its owner are.
"Don't tell me the runt missed his plane?" He says disgustedly as he approaches Anya and Giles. He notices the huge smiles on their faces at the exact same moment that a husky chuckle dances along his nerve endings. "Wil." He breathes as the blond slowly turns his head to look over his shoulder.
Liam catches his breath on a gasp at his first look at Wil in almost eight years. The almost felinely sharp features are still the same, as are the perfectly arched brows, thickly lashed eyes, and full sensual mouth. Time has filled in his features somewhat adding an attractive softness that borders just this side of being a unique mix of handsome and beautiful. His complexion is still the same suede-textured velvet perfection that just begs to be touched.
The breath he's been holding leaves him in a rush as Wil turns slowly to face him and he can't seem to regain it as his eyes rove over him hungrily from foot to hair. The black leather boots with decorative chains around the ankle and instep manage to look both dangerous and stylish. His eyes trail up over the liquid leather sheathed legs that leave nothing to the imagination, they're so tight they're hugging his lower body like a glove. The waist band of the leather pants hug his hips, riding low across a washboard abdomen. A steel blue shirt that looks like it's made of stonewashed silk is poured fluidly over an impressively muscled chest. The shirt ends a few inches above the waistband of the hip hugging leather pants and as he shifts the shirt shows a tantalising patch of bare skin...and the glint of gold in his navel?
Oh God his navel is pierced, Liam thinks with a moaning whimper he has to fight to contain. He sees the glint of gold through one honey blond brow and realises that's pierced as well. A leather collar encircles his throat, drawing the eye to its perfection and a set of dog tags draw the eye to his impressive chest. Both hands sport several rings and his eye is drawn to his left and as he slides it partially into a front pocket of his leather jeans.
Liam follows the movement with his eyes and sucks in a breath sharply and his mouth opens and closes in shock. Before he can stop it his hand is slowly reaching out to pull Wil's hand out of his pocket and tilts it towards the bright overhead lights. There on his hand is a wide band of antique yellowish red gold worked into the distinctive simplicity of the grasping hands holding a ruby heart and surmounted by a crown that is an Irish Claddagh Fede or faith ring. His fingertip slowly reaches out to brush over the ring worn proudly on the graceful ring finger of Wil's left hand. It is worn with the crown pointing outward signifying to those that know what it means, that Wil's heart is spoken for. There for the entire world to see on his left hand ring finger is the very ring he left the station to pick up all those years ago. He'd gone back to look for it prior to the city tearing down the structurally unsound remains of the station after the bombing, but he was forced to leave empty handed.
"How did you get it?" He asks simply, cradling Wil's hand in his and stroking his thumb over the ring gently. "I thought it was lost."
"One of the patrolmen found it with an envelope with my name on the front. He kept them safe, but then he set it aside and almost forgot he had them. He gave them to me at my going away party before I left for
"You've been wearing it all this time?" Liam asks surprised, he reaches out to draw his fingertips down that beautiful face until they can curl under his chin and lift those mesmerising blue eyes up to meet his gaze.
"The pain couldn't scratch it all away." Wil says quietly, staring into the whiskey brown eyes that have held his heart in thrall for so long. "I couldn't make a wish and have it all wiped away and the tears didn't wash it all away." Liam drops his eyes until a tender hand cups his cheek and caressing thumb rubs the tip of an ear softly and his eyelids rise again. "In the end we are our memories and I choose to honour mine and a point in my life that did the most to shape the man that I am. I'll always remember and I'll never forget what it was like to be yours for a while. This ring was to be our troth wasn't it?" Liam nods slowly. "And so it is has been from the moment I put it on. You hurt me Liam and I'll never forget that, but I forgave it long ago." Liam's eyes widen and he feels a tear claw its way from the corner of an eye, but a tender thumb is there to catch it and wipe it away.
Liam clears his throat quietly. "You understand what a Claddagh ring is?" His voice is soft and tender, in a way no one other than this man has heard. "It's one of the Fede, Faith Rings. The ring worn on the right hand, crown turned inward tells your heart is yet unoccupied, worn with the crown turned outwards reveals love is being considered. Worn on the left hand the crown turned outward shows all, your heart is truly spoken for." He reaches out to stroke a fingertip over the ring he can just see peeking out Wil's pocket. "I chose the Antique gold, because our love is older than time and it would defy the passage of time and our love is more precious than anything else. The ruby is as red as the lifeblood in my heart that beats for you. The form, the Claddagh, a faith ring, symbol of friendship, love, and loyalty." Liam blinks rapidly to dash another tear away before it can fall. "It was to be my troth to you and in the end I ran from you, left you, hurt you, to spare you the very pain I inflicted on you. I'm so sorry Wil."
"Stop saying sorry." Wil whispers brokenly and Liam winces. "Smile for me." It's an order but one voiced gently and Liam forces his mouth to obey him.
Liam gasps as heat floods his belly at the heat of a soft tongue tracing the curve of his smile with gentle thoroughness, seconds before petal soft lips feather against his mouth curved in a matching smile.
"I always liked the way your smiles tasted; it's so much sweeter than the sadness in a sorry. Hello Liam Angelus O'Shea, my name is William Bradley Falkner and it's a pleasure to meet you. You can call me Wil." Wil's smile is as glowingly lovely as a dozen stars in the sky.
"Hello William Bradley Falkner." Liam's lips relax in a genuine smile as he realises that Wil is offering him a gift he never thought he'd have earned in this lifetime; the chance for them to start over. He clears his throat again and surreptiously adjust his jeans to relieve some of the sudden pressure that has sprung up in the wake of that tender kiss. "Do you greet everyone like that? If you do, I'm not sure my Boss is going to give you back to Interpol." He says a wry grin as he slowly steps away from Wil.
"No, I'm afraid I save those for stubborn Irish Detectives that give me beautiful and thoughtful gifts that they knew I'd love." Wil says with a wink.
"I'll just have to be sure that I'm the only Irishman giving you gifts then Lad." Liam says with a grin. "Firstly though, let's get your bags and I'll take you home so that you can rest and unwind a bit before we go to the station." Liam turns on his heel and strides towards the baggage claim area.
Wil turns and see that Anya is leaning over Giles shoulder and they're clinging to each other with wide smiles and suspiciously bright eyes. "Do you think he realises that everything he said was in the present tense?" Wil asks softly, lifting a hand to catch a tear that was just about to fall.
"No son, I don't think that he realised that." Giles says quietly, his voice choked up with emotion at the sight of his boys together again after so long. He'd forgotten how beautiful they were together. Apart they are each is magnificent, veritable perfection of form and function.
Liam is handsome, his features carved strong and true, his body chiselled muscle and corded sinew, his masculinity held like a banner for all to see. He is the strength of the earth, solid and true constant if always in motion; he is the limitless expanse of the air, the purity that comes with thought married to action and intellect to the soul. In his life he knew little that was stable, dependable, and trustworthy. Born to a Mother that couldn't even begin to figure out who his Father was, much less what his name may have been. His life from the very beginning was one of upheavals and a million questions without a single answer. He had no one to tell him who he was, no pattern to follow that would shape him into the man that he would become. In the end Liam created himself, a self-portrait of achievement that could hang in the Louvre. He's always been inordinately proud that he played some small part in the shaping of an extraordinary man.
Liam is a man of quiet depths; his voice is often quieter than the ones around him but when he does speak it commands attention. He is given that respect perhaps because he exercises it so infrequently. He is a listener rather than a talker and action will always win over a debate. Liam is just as likely to go quietly get a job done while everyone else is standing around discussing their options for doing the same thing. That's not to say that he isn't intelligent, he is very much so, but he's learned the one lesson that even the smartest of people sometimes fail to learn; intelligence means nothing if nothing ever comes of it. He has learned to balance his intelligence with his responses, to use it productively to give it purpose.
William is masculine as well, but his form is deceivingly delicate, pushing his ethereal presence into the realm of beauty as opposed to the more rugged handsomeness that typifies most men. Wil is a beautiful man, the two should be anathema. In him they are harmonious, each in their diametrically opposed ways reinforcing the appeal of the other in classic synergy; the mutually advantageous conjunction of distinct elements. His form flows and ebbs like the deepest of waters, fluid muscles sheathed in silken suede skin, he is as mercurial as water and can be as hard to hold in your hands. Like the surface of the ocean, at first glance he can be calm with just the occasional ripple, but there below his surface powerful rhythms move him in ebbs and tides. The surface is beautiful but the true wonders hide below and while there can be some danger in exploring the depths, the reward is well worth it. He is the inexhaustible energy of fire, the passion and the heat, creation and transformation through destruction. Wil is a fighter, always in motion against physical and emotional threats, there is always one more battle to win, one more enemy to route.
Everything that Wil does, he does with a passion that consumes him utterly and the fire of his enthusiasm spreads to everyone around him. That is only part of his character Giles knows. There is a tender, deeper side that few are ever invited to dive into and explore but that everyone around him benefits from. Wil cares for people, deeply but he lets it show with only a few, but once you do make his short list, you're never in any doubt of just how much he cares for you. Wil will die to save the life of a stranger and people seem to instinctively know that and respond to it, even as they are held back by the deep knowledge that while he likes people, he will only love a very few. For many that have had the honour of spending much time with him that becomes a driving obsession. It's not enough for Wil to like you, he must love you as well and for many that can lead to an unhealthy regard for the beautiful and untamed blond. Giles knows that William has never paid much attention to his affect on people or deliberately attempted to use it or foster it but it is somehow all the more compelling for that lack. William is just Wil, no more and no less and he expects that to be respected and what he gives he expects to receive in return. Few people that have made the mistake of underestimating or disrespecting him will ever forget their error; for as deeply as he can care, love, he can also hate and destroy.
Giles smiles as Wil takes Anya's place behind his wheelchair with a fond kiss on her cheek, taking over the piloting duties so that she can walk beside Giles, holding his hand as usual. Wil moves them confidently through the crowd and the holiday crowds politely part the sea of bodies to ease their passage. Knowing that between the two of them, Wil and Anya, he's as safe as houses Giles turns his mind back to his contemplation of his boys.
The true complexities of their natures are only apparent when they are together. To look at one of them is like looking at a painting in a darkened room, you can see some details, vague and indistinct but you add the other and suddenly it's as though the room were filled with sunlight. All the details and the depth and complexities become clear to see and you can almost see how they fit together. Sometimes quite literally he thinks as Wil stops pushing the wheelchair well clear of the throng of people waiting for their baggage and joins Liam at the baggage carousel. He smiles as their proximity makes each glow and they just naturally fall into place side by side.
Even as he's watching, Liam's arm is rising to drape across Wil's shoulders as Wil's arm encircles his waist, both at just the right height to make both natural and easy movements. He knew that would happen as soon as Wil moved over there and Giles grins, whenever they're standing still for more than a minute or two one will always move to be close to and preferably touching the other. It's automatic and natural to them both, almost a matter of instinct and he's pretty sure that neither is consciously aware that they do it. They just belong together, part of them knows that and accepts it even now, as estranged as they are, they are still driven to touch and be touched.
As the luggage starts tumbling out of the chute for its circular ride, Wil quietly points out his baggage and Liam competently retrieves it, motioning for Wil to let him lift the heavy suitcases. He hands him only the lightest duffle bag and the smallest of the suitcases while he slinging the heavier duffle over his shoulder and picking up the two largest and heaviest suitcases himself.
Anya takes over pushing Giles' wheelchair and notes with some amused affection that Liam is keeping a careful eye on all of them. He swims through the crowd using his not inconsiderable build rather like a linebacker, clearing a path and subtly manoeuvring around them like a herding dog to keep them together. From the glint of amusement in Giles' eyes and the amused grin on Wil's face, this is an old routine and one that they have learned to just quietly go along with.
Thanks to a few phone calls to grease the squeaky wheels of the bureaucracy, they are quickly through customs despite what could have been a very lengthy wait and are following Liam out the front doors within twenty minutes. The wind and rain haven't abated, if anything they are battling more furiously than they were before.
Giles hides a grin as his boys instantly close ranks and angle their bodies to deflect the worst of the wind driven rain from Anya and him. In that moment all his questions about whether or not they would or could accept his fiancée as a member of their strange little extended family are answered. Already they are treating her like someone precious to be protected.
"I think it would be easiest and driest on all of us if I ran to get the truck." Liam says, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the storm as he sets down the things he's carrying. Wil nods and gently guides Anya into standing between Giles and him, angling his back to protect them both from the brunt of the weather hammering at them, as Liam runs out into the shearing rain.
"Perhaps it would be better if we got you both back inside for now; this infernal wind is driving the rain right under the roof!" Wil says with a quiet snarl at Mother Nature.
So it is that they find themselves gently but firmly guided back inside where it's warm and dry and Wil returns to stand watch over his luggage. Anya and Giles look around bemusedly and share a laugh and an amused chuckle, one minute they're outside and the next they're 'safely' bundled inside.
"Do they do that often?" Anya asks with a smile. She's gotten to know Wil fairly well, having spent quite a bit of time with him during his regular trips to see Giles a few times a year. Giles told her that she knew him only half as well as she thought she did and having met Liam and seen them together, she understands what he meant now. To truly know Wil you have to know Liam as well, simply because they are that much a part of each other.
"You mean the whole falling back into their old habits so easily thing?" Giles asks with a tender smile that warms her heart. She knows that only three people on the planet have seen that smile and she is one of them as they wait for the other two to return.
"I rather expected there would be more...fireworks?" Anya admits readily.
"They fight, but they rarely do it in front of anyone else. I'm sure we'll be there for some of their disagreements as they consider us family, but I doubt anyone else will." Giles says with a devilish grin.
"You tried to tell me about them, but you're right, I didn't understand until I saw them together. They have a very unusual dynamic working between them." Anya says musingly, her psychologist mind fascinated by the pair.
Giles chuckles recognising the expression on Anya's face as it's one he's worn himself. "It took me a few years to actually understand just how complex their relationship is."
They watch as Liam pulls up in the truck and hops out opening the back door as Wil gathers up some of his luggage. Anya notes that he's automatically picked up the same bags that Liam handed to him at the baggage claim. Liam jogs over at any easy pace and picks up the bags he had earlier, nods to Wil and he dives into the rain. She notes that Liam does his best to buffer Wil from the brunt of the storm just as they both tried to do for Giles and her earlier. As soon as the bags are stowed the pair are running back towards the entrance, Liam carrying a large golf umbrella, an arm around Wil's shoulder keeping him plastered to his side and under the protection of the nylon.
They move through the doors together like a force of nature and Anya stifles a shriek of surprise as Wil sweeps her up and Liam sweeps his arm around his shoulders once more and steers them back out into the storm. They're nimble and quick and before she realises it Liam is opening the rear passenger door and keeping the rain off them with the umbrella, while Spike neatly steps up into the truck. He braces a knee and gently places her on the far side of the car and grabbing the seatbelt has her neatly belted in place before backing out of the truck with a smile. She stares wide-eyed as the pair dart back inside, but adeptly change places, with Liam sweeping up Giles and holding him easily while Wil collapses his wheelchair with quick and practiced motions. Wil carries the wheelchair and the umbrella, keeping the worst of the rain at bay and within mere moments Giles is neatly seat-belted into place beside her. Within seconds the wheelchair is quickly stowed away and Wil and Liam dash around to the front of the truck. Wil holds the umbrella while Liam gets in and then jogs around to the front passenger seat and hops in, shaking the worst of the water off the umbrella before collapsing it and setting it on the rubber mat covered floorboard and closing his door. Even as he's turning around, Liam has leaned over and caught his seatbelt and is buckling it into place before straightening and doing his own and starting the truck and moving them out into the flow of traffic. Wil leans forward and turns on the radio, quickly tuning in a soft rock station and then turning on the heater and adjusting to until the chill of the storm is chased away. Watching these two in action is like watching a trapeze act, their moves perfectly timed and executed so well it's almost as though they were reading each other's minds. The rage of the storm outside has nothing on the force of nature that is the pair sitting up front.
Anya and Giles share a wide eyed glance of amazement and then start laughing in unison while Wil and Liam glance at each other and shrug and turn their attention back to the road.
Chapter Six
The drive is a nightmare of squealing breaks and near misses by other cars, but Liam's skilful driving sees them arriving at his home safely and everyone is smiling and laughing, they couldn't be happier. Liam pulls the garage door opener from his pocket and taps it with his thumb, driving straight into the spacious two car garage once the door is up. He taps it again and the door closes behind them and shuts out the storm as the interior light automatically comes on to pierce the gloom. There are four identical sighs of relief as the storm is safely outside and they're all inside warm and dry.
Liam is still as efficient and diligent with unloading the truck as he was in loading it. He darts inside to take care of the alarm while Wil starts to unpack the baggage. Liam returns and takes the wheelchair Wil holds out for him and quickly has it set up, while Wil capably organises the baggage by owner. Liam gently helps Anya out of the truck, lifting her down and making sure she has her balance before he lets her go, glancing at Wil and seeing that he's separated the luggage into two piles, one of Giles and Anya and the other for his things and he smiles. Within a few moments Liam has lifted Giles out and set him carefully into his wheelchair and escorted him and Anya inside the house and is fixing them both a drink in the living room when Wil walks in with the first load of baggage. Liam tells him where their rooms are and he nods once and disappears to deliver Anya's luggage. He makes three more trips and finally all their baggage is delivered to their rooms and he returns to the door to the garage, locking the door and clicking the deadbolt into place before he rejoins his friends.
Liam is leaning against the wall while Anya is curled up on an ottoman that allows Giles to sit beside her in his wheelchair and their holding hands as they always are when they're within touching distance. Everyone has their coat off and hanging on a coat tree to dry in the tiled entry way and he starts to slip out of his leather duster, he isn't startled by the strong hands sliding up his back to cup his shoulders and catching the edge of the coat and helping him to take it off.
Liam breathes in sharply as he slides the leather off of Wil's shoulders. His shirt is a simple sleeveless button-front shirt that's neatly cropped to just barely brush the waistband of his leather trousers. The stonewashed dark blue silk looks amazing against his lightly tanned honey skin tone and moonlight pale hair. Several buttons are undone to display an impressive chest and display his jewellery and the sleeveless style highlights his amazingly defined musculature of his arms. Wil isn't as physically imposing as Liam or sports muscles as large and powerful as the intimidating Irishman, but he is by no means weak or frail despite what his seemingly delicate build would seem to suggest. His muscles are well defined and move with a sleek and silky strength beneath the satiny suede of his flawless skin. Where Liam is power and stoic strength, Wil is graceful and fluid, their strengths aren't matched merely complimentary.
Wil smiles and stalks towards the couch with the silent and graceful stride that is his and his alone and for some reason Liam always fancies he can hear jungle drums pounding low and rhythmically every time Wil walks and has to silently chuckle at his fanciful turn of imagination. Rather than walking around the couch Wil saves time by gracefully rolling over the back to land in a comfortable sprawl in the corner seat, his legs neatly crossing as his arms spread along the back of the couch. The whole manoeuvre is the epitome of lazy grace and a silently perfect commentary to one of Wil's life philosophies, why go around something when you can simply go over it and end up in the same place. Of course if he should just happen to look good and displaying his lithe and powerful body to his advantage...well that's just a bonus.
Liam shakes his head to clear it of the lust induced fog that has started to clog his thinking processes and starts to pour some drinks. He forces himself to stand with his back to Wil, refusing to look over his shoulder, knowing that Wil is watching, feeling the weight of those evocative blue cats eyes of his roving over him slowly. He automatically pours two glasses of his best and oldest aged Irish whiskey for Wil and himself.
"Giles, Anya, may I get you something to drink?" He asks politely.
"I'd love a Scotch on the rocks if you've got it." Giles' doesn't bother to hide the tiredness in his voice or the slight desperation at the thought of a decent class of aged Scotch. He knows that Liam has a taste for the finer things when he can afford them and whatever he has is sure to be top quality.
Wil grins because he knows that Liam has scotch; he's been sending Liam cases of the fine Irish whiskey and Aged Scotch for years now. He's pretty sure that he must have surmised who was responsible for those periodic 'anonymous' deliveries but neither of them have ever openly admitted to it. Just like they've never discussed those 'care packages' of Jack Daniel's Whisky and the deluxe assortment of Ghirardelli Hot Cocoa mix, complete with a large back of those little marshmallows, that like to arrive at his doorstep with some frequency.
"I'd love a Ginger Wine if you have it." Anya says with a smile.
"That's one part Ginger Ale and three parts white wine Lad." Giles adds helpfully.
Liam makes the drinks and hands them to Giles and Anya and picks up the glasses for Wil and himself and walks to the couch and sits beside Wil. Giles counts backwards from ten in his head and by the time he's reached zero, Liam has handed a glass of whiskey to Wil and has angled his back so that it rests against Wil's chest and Wil's arm rests across his collarbone. They all sip their drinks in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the peaceful chance to relax among good friends.
A soft rolling purr heralds the arrival of Miss Edith, who preens under the attentions of Giles and Anya, who give her the praise she's due and a copious amount of petting as she investigates the pair. Once she's sniffed and marked her new pets sufficiently the slender Queen leaps onto the couch to investigate the new scents clinging to her caretaker. She tracks an intriguing scent along her dark-haired caretaker until at last the scent is beneath her sensitive nose.
Liam stares in amazement as Miss Edith sniffs delicately along his thigh as she walks along it with easy grace, continuing up his arm and across Wil's arm where it rests across his collarbone and curls up on his shoulder against the corner of the couch. As Wil lifts his hand to scratch her lightly beneath her chin a rapturous purr starts to rumble through the quiet room as she rubs her cheek against his in paroxysms of delight and Liam starts to chuckle.
"That animal magnetism of yours just knows no bounds does it?" He asks looking up at Wil from his comfortable spot resting against his chest and he raises an eyebrow eloquently. "Miss Edith meet Wil, Wil, Anya, and Giles meet Miss Edith." Liam says with a wry grin.
As though pleased by the introduction, Miss Edith slips boneless and gracefully from Wil's shoulder, down his chest to stretch out on his thigh and leaning against Liam and crosses her front paws delicately and lays her head down to catnap on them both. The pose makes it clear that she has claimed the pair as her personal property and everyone laughs quietly.
"You've all had a chance to look over the case files I sent you?" Liam asks, reluctant to break the mood but if they're going to meet the Captain and his squad-mates soon they should discuss the case.
"I can see why you were alarmed; there are some uncomfortably similar circumstances about both cases. There are some striking differences as well but I think you're right in your estimation of things Liam. I think we're looking at someone who either knew Laszlo or had access to the case files, some of these details are just too close to be coincidences. Anya and I will start breaking it down as soon as we can look over everything." Giles says adjusting his eyeglasses anxiously.
"I'd like to talk to the coroner assigned to the cases Laszlo killed his victims in some very specific and distinctive ways, we should check to see if we have any matches." Anya says confidently.
"The Chief Coroner, Winifred Burkle has been working closely with the task force. She's supposed to be by tomorrow evening with her report on the latest murder. I can introduce you then," Liam says with a nod.
"What am I supposed to be doing, other than draping myself attractively over your desk every chance I get that is? Do I get to be your sidekick and mouth off with those well-timed one-liners Batman? I'm telling you right now, I'm not wearing any tights or Speedos in primary colours and I am not going to offer to hold your batarang for you. I may play with your utility belt though." Wil asks feigning the petulant boredom of a debutante, chuckling when Liam digs his elbow into his side warningly.
"You get to do what you do best." Liam growls.
"Okay, but I thought you had laws in this country about doing that in public." Wil says smirking.
"Okay, what you do second best then." Liam says chuckling wickedly. "You'll be coming with me."
Wil glances over at him from beneath his lashes as his eyes run over Liam's reclining body with slow and lascivious thoroughness. "I'd say that was pretty much guaranteed." He murmurs lowly.
"Oh God; we're going to re-interview the witnesses, you horny toad!" Liam says with laugh.
"Ribbit, ribbet, Mate." Wil purrs and everyone laughs as the phone starts to ring.
Liam reluctantly rouses himself to go answer it and returns after a few minutes. "That was Captain Lorne; he's waiting for us at the station along with the members of the task force and the Coroner. Apparently she's found something interesting in the last autopsy and he wants to fill us in. We may as well go get the introductions over with now since everyone is together." He says reluctantly. "Would you like to eat first, I can make us something to eat before we go."
"I'd like to change into something a bit hardier in view of the weather." Anya decides, kissing Giles' cheek and standing up.
"Sure, come with me ducks, I'd like to change too so I can show you to your room on the way to mine. I've been wearing these clothes for almost twenty-four hours." Wil says with a grimace. He carefully lifts Miss Edith and sets her gently on the cushion and taking Anya's hand tows her down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Giles smiles and rolls after Anya's retreating form as Liam and Miss Edith are left alone. They hold out for five minutes than sharing a look they both start walking down the hallway to the room next to his. He knocks softly and he smiles as Wil's voice calls out inviting them inside.
He freezes as he steps into the room. Wil is bent with his back to him dressed only in his boots and a pair of painted on faded blue jeans. The jeans are old and comfortable from countless washings and he can almost imagine he can see hints of his honeyed skin tone through the thinnest parts of the fabric. For the first time he can see that his back isn't unmarked and that he sports a pair of tattoos. An elaborate Celtic style cross in vibrant shades of red and gold adorns the small of his back, just above the curve of what has to be the best ass on the planet. As he stands from pulling on his boots, Liam can see the tattoo on the back of his left shoulder more clearly. He steps up behind Wil and slowly traces his fingertips over the design as Will stills and lets him explore it.
Liam traces the silhouette of a stylised angel, drawing his fingertip gently along the curve of a wing to the tip. The design is simplistic, all dark lines and strong shading and the only colour in the design is from the blood red rose and thorny green stem that is clutched in one hand of the angel. The edges are softened and slightly blurred and the colours are softly muted and it's obvious that this tattoo has graced the back of Wil's shoulder for several years at least.
"You always said that I should have a guardian angel at my back." Wil says softly, not turning around to look at him.
Liam slowly slides his arms around Wil and pulls him back against his chest and angles one arm across his chest to rest over his heart as the other hand's sensitive fingertips dance over the piercing in his navel. "Well now you have two." Liam breathes against his sensitive earlobe seconds before his teeth close around it gently tugging it, before pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it softly.
"We don't have time for this." Wil groans but he melts against Liam and lets him support his weight as Liam's hands trace over defined muscles and playfully tangle with his navel piercing.
"We'll make time." Liam growls sinking his teeth lightly into Wil's shoulder; sucking softly until he leaves a small red bruise. "You're still the most beautiful man I've ever seen." Liam's breath hitches and strangles in his throat as his fingertips trace the dog tags up to the leather collar encircling Wil's throat and he whimpers softly. "Is this...are you...?" His voice trails off, unable to force the question he wants to ask past the emotions choking him. He presses his face against the junction of Wil's neck and shoulder, unable to force out the words. He should have known that Wil wouldn't need him to say the words in order to hear them. Over their time together he became more than adept at hearing what he said when he didn't have the words to speak.
"Is this...the same collar?" Wil's voice is soft and low, almost breathing the words. "Yes."
Liam trembles violently against Wil, his arms tightening to the point he's surprised he hasn't cracked one of his ribs or that he isn't being pulled millimetre by millimetre into his own body, merging them as one. "You still wear it." His fingertips trace the slightly embossed runes that spell out his name raised on the surface of the petal soft leather. He remembers the night this sublime creature knelt before him and let him close this not so subtle claim of ownership around his beautiful throat. He knows that to most people it would simply look like a fairly gothic piece of jewellery, which in essence, it is.
They don't follow the whole Dominate/Submissive lifestyle, but there is something so powerfully moving in knowing that another person belongs to you body and soul, to the point where they'll quite literally bear your name. For men and women it's a simple exchange of rings and vows, but sadly for same sex couples in many places in the world, there is nothing simple about it. Wil has never accepted any labels, be it for his life or for whom he chooses to love. He loved him so he gave himself to him with no reservations.
"Yes, why wouldn't I? It's a lovely gift and it even saved my life once." Wil grabs Liam's hand and guides his fingertips to the ornate gold clasp of the collar and rubs them over a small imperfection in the metal. "A drugged out kid in a pub almost two years ago, holding the place up to get drug money, the metal deflected the bullet and I was able to bring him down before he hurt someone."
Liam kisses the curve of his shoulder and holds on tightly. After several minutes he finally finds the strength to loosen his grip and slowly turns Wil around to face him and cups his cheek. He tips his head back and slowly presses his lips to his, just lightly as they share their breath as they inhale and exhale with their lips pressed lightly together. It's not so much a kiss as it is an affirmation, a sharing of selves on a deeply primitive and instinctive level. "Are you still mine?" He whispers against his mouth.
"Yes." Wil breathes, the words whispering over their lips in the seconds before even that infinitesimally meagre separation is removed entirely and in the space of their kiss eight years fall away to nothing.
After several minutes Liam reluctantly loosens his hold and takes a step back, dragging his hands slowly down Wil's arms to take his hands. His thumb caresses the ring as he slowly drags his fingertips up Wil's back to stroke the tattoo gracing his shoulder before slipping back up to trace the edge of the collar. "All of these brand you as mine, we've been apart for so long and you still wear these and you chose that tattoo with me in mind didn't you." He doesn't need to ask, he knows that Wil did just that. He's always been fond of calling him his own personal 'Guardian Angel' a play on the colourful middle name his Mother saw fit to embarrass him with. It has never embarrassed him to hear Wil call him 'Angel'; usually late at night with bodies shining with sweat and cooling as passion ebbs and hearts speak freely in the darkness.
"You were always saying that I wore my heart on my sleeve, why not on my skin too? We may have been living alone, but that doesn't me we were apart does it?" Wil replies softly, nuzzling his nose gently against Liam's strong jaw line in a tender caress.
"There were others?" Liam asks, tightening his hand as it curls around his throat, the stroking thumb on the collar growing possessively heavier, his brown eyes gleaming darkly.
He's not prepared for the flashes of anger that cause Wil's eldritch eyes to glitter with feral heat as he pulls away firmly but inexorably. "You have no right to ask me that. You lost that right when I found you in our bed with that woman. Yes I am using the term woman loosely, very loosely in this case." Wil leans over his suitcase and pulls out a dark blue silk tank stop and slides it on smoothing it over his chest and tucking it in and buttoning up the button-fly of his jeans the rest of the way and buckling the belt already threaded through the belt loops. "What and who happened in my life after I left and before I got here is none of your business Liam, nor is it my business who you were with, or are with. If you want to be with me than be with me; don't expect me to play second fiddle to them if you are seeing someone. I didn't share back then and I'm sure as hell not going to share you now. I'm yours, I've always been yours, no matter how much I've hated myself for knowing that is a fact of my life, but I'm not waiting around to be second fiddle this time. If you want to sleep with someone else than that's your business, I'll find something...or someone to occupy my time while you do. I'm not going to give everything I am to have it thrown back at me, not again."
"No one touches you, Wil, no one but ME." Liam growls, closing his hands around his shoulders and jerking him tightly to him. His breath catches in his chest as suddenly Wil softens and melts against him to look up at him through his lashes.
"You'll only ever be sure of that one way won't you Liam?" His vibrantly feral eyes shine with an unholy light. "If you want to be the centre of my world, than make sure that I'm the centre of yours. If you want this body..." He rocks against him slowly. "...To be only yours, than you will belong to me and only to me. It's all very simple Liam. I can't possibly make it any simpler than that. I want you, I'm going to have you, I love you, and I'm not going to leave you again." His eyes darken and deepen still further. "Listen well and mark my words Liam. I'm not leaving you again. If you ever cheat on me or push me away or hurt me again, I'm not going to leave, so that you don't have to face up to what you've done. Whatever you do to me, you'll receive in return. If I ever walk in on you in bed with anyone else, than you can damn well better not be shocked to find me in someone else's bed. You figure out if you want that Hero and get back to me." Wil wrenches free and strides to the closet where he'd neatly hung his good clothes earlier and grabs a black silk dress shirt and stalks out of the bedroom, leaving Liam to stare after him in shock.
By the time he's recovered his ability to move and to think and strides after Wil, he finds him back in the living room with Anya and Giles, neatly rolling up the sleeves of the shirt he's slipped on. He's looking cool, calm, collected, sexy, and utterly dangerous both to his peace of mind and his libido. He leaves the shirt loose rather than tucking it in to form an attractive over-shirt for the tank top. The outfit isn't as hard-edged as his silk and leather ensemble he flew in with but the blues and blacks are a tasty frame for his lightly golden skin and moonlight pale hair and the blue is reflected in his eyes deepening them to a darkly vibrant sapphire hue. Miss Edith is draped across his shoulders like a living stole and it's obvious to him that she has blessed him with her approval. In fact from the unholy gleam in both sets of blue eyes sweeping over him, he feels very much claimed himself...it feels delicious.
He strides forward, his eyes locked on Wil, who never takes his eyes off him, even while continuing the conversation with Anya and Giles without missing a beat. Part of him notes that both Anya and Giles have changed into jeans and sweaters with hiking boots on, in deference to the weather but only Wil has his attention as he stops at his side and wraps an arm around his shoulders. A gentle hand under his chin turns him to meet his soft kiss and gaze and eight years of regrets and apologies are silently exchanged and accepted. They both know that it won't be that easy to regain what his betrayal cost them, but they're going to move forward together, rather than remaining mired in the shared pain of their pasts. He gently lifts Miss Edith down and sets her gently on the couch.
"We should go, it will take us a while to get there in this storm and I don't want to rush with such precious cargo aboard." Liam says threading his hand through Wil's and looking over to see that Anya and Giles are doing much the same while smiling at them with loving approval.
He walks over to the coats with Wil, helps him into his leather coat and hands him Giles' for him to help the older man get into, while he holds up Anya's coat for her to slip into. "I'll lock up here, Wil could you help Giles into the truck? I'll drive that while you drive my GTX and we can drop the Captain's truck off and drive back in my car afterwards." Liam says definitively. Wil nods and escorts Anya and Giles out to the garage, while Liam takes care of locking up the house and follows. He walks out to the garage after tripping the alarm and finds that Giles is smiling from the front seat of the SUV, while Anya talks to him from the front passenger seat of the GTX. Wil is standing against the front of his car his hands braced on his hips looking like a defiant warrior of olden days. He's happy to note that Wil's put the top up on the GTX as he strides over to him.
As in days of old, his arms open to welcome him as he steps closer and close around him to pull him closer still and Liam looks down and marvels at the beauty of what he sees. He cups Wil's face and nuzzles his cheek gently.
"You'll be okay to drive, been a while since you were in the States?" He asks softly.
"I was in
"Okay, but stay behind me, the SUV should take the brunt of the storm." Liam says worriedly, he'd feel better if Wil was riding with him in this kind of weather, but by the same token he knows he's a good driver and well used to the
"I'll move my things to your room when we get back. I'll call my boss tomorrow and resign officially. We'll take care of this case and then we'll talk about the future?" Wil says without a moment's hesitation, which shocks Liam a little, but it delights him still more. For a moment Liam has to wonder who the truly strong one in this relationship is.
He pauses for a moment then grins hugely; he has a relationship with his Wil again! He dives in and buries his face against his neck. He inhales deeply, drawing the precious scent of his Wil into his lungs. The softly sweet smell of vanilla with just a hint of cinnamon and beneath it all, the cleanly sharp scent of soap and male skin; he's home. He darts his tongue out to taste the tempting skin beneath his questing mouth and moans softly as the flavour slides over his tongue. His eyes have seen him, his hands have touched him, his lungs are full of his scent, his mouth feasting on the flavour of his skin, and the strange sense of awareness he possesses, all tell him that at last his Soulmate is back where he belongs.
"Welcome home my Baby Blue." Liam says pulling back to look at Wil and melting under the heat of his gaze and his sweet smile at the sound of the pet name he gave him long ago. "We should go." Wil nods and lets him go, taking a step away only to have his hand caught and held for a moment. "Drive safely Wil." He says softly before releasing him to part and get behind the wheels of their cars. Liam hits the door controller and waits for it to rise and waves to Wil who pulls out first and waits at the bottom of the drive. Liam pulls out and turns down the street, glancing in the rear view mirror and smiling as Wil follows at a close but safe distance behind.
Chapter Seven
The drive is fairly uneventful and they make it safely, but the flashing lights and burning flares of several accident scenes along the way are mute proof that not everyone was so lucky tonight. There are several news vans and various reporters and cameramen scattered around the steps leading into the station and Liam gleefully passes them all by, headed for the secured parking area they're barred from. They pull into the officer parking facility, the tags of both cars permitting them to do so thankfully so it gets them out of the storm into the relatively dry haven of the underground garage.
They park beside each other and Anya goes to push the elevator call button as Wil sets up Giles' wheelchair and Liam lifts him carefully into it. Giles joins Anya while Liam and Wil lock the cars, turn on the alarms and join them. They talk quietly on the ride up to the top floor where the various taskforces have their offices. As they walk, Liam quietly gives them the penny tour, telling them which offices belong to which group, so they know the lay of the land. He leads them down the hall and turns right down another short hallway and points to the first door on the right. He opens the door and waves Anya and Giles to precede him and follows them, knowing without looking that Wil has fallen in behind him and slightly to the right in his customary position.
Three men and a woman are clustered around a desk, drinking coffee and eating some sandwiches, while talking in soft tones. They stop talking and look over at the group curious about the new arrivals. Wil looks at the quartet just as curious about the people that work with Liam as they are about the people that used to work with him before they did.
The only lady in the group is a petite, dark haired beauty that has delicate, almost elfin features that are almost swallowed by a wavy mane of thick chestnut hair. Her eyes are bright with intelligence and shine with empathy and her shy smile reaches her eyes. A simple sunny yellow top, embroidered with delicate flowers and a pale yellow sweater are paired well with the slim tailored lines of her lace-edged denim skirt. Pale yellow ankle socks and hiking boots complete the youthful but functional look. Wil finds that he's unable to stop an answering smile from curving his lips in response to her shy but curious glance at him before she ducks her head and blushes slightly.
A tall black man is perches on the corner of one of the desk, still happily chewing away at his meal and lifts his coffee in a silent salute of welcome. He is dressed in a simple but stylish dark grey pull-over sweater and grey chinos and classic dark loafers. He sports several items of jewellery, but they're all tasteful and suited to him. He looks unconcerned by their arrival, but Wil can see he's alert and taking in every detail about them and instinctually he knows that there are depths to the quiet man that aren't readily available.
"Well, well looks like the Lone Ranger is back and he brought back Tonto and some settlers." A sable haired man says with a grin, his voice is a slow, lazy drawl that brings the image of singing cowboys to Wil's mind. The slight tensing of Liam's back has his eyes narrowing as he pays closer attention to the would-be comedian.
He is built along deceptively delicate lines, but he imagines that is just as misleading as his own build. Thick wavy chestnut hair is swept back off a wide forehead but no hair products have been employed to tame it given the soft locks that drape with boyish charm over one of his brightly sparkling eyes. Wil doesn't believe for a minute that either the perfect drape of that wavy hair or the feigned boyish charm is anything more than an affectation for effect. He is dressed in crisp jeans, a dark button front shirt with the sleeves rolled back, a denim vest, and the ubiquitous cowboy boots he somehow expected to see are in full evidence. Wil meets his gaze head on; squaring his shoulders and throwing his head back proudly as the man's eyes rove over him with obvious interest that he takes no pains to hide. His reaction only seems to intrigue him more as a purely lascivious smile curves his full lips and the fiery gleam of interest ignites in his eyes. Wil sizes him up and dismisses him with the ease of having known a dozen men like him and he's pleased to note that the smile dies and disappears into a frown as Wil fails to respond as he'd expected.
Wil turns his glance to the last man and again finds himself answering a genuine smile and warmth that can't be faked, is directed at him and calls forth a response. He is dressed in a rather stylish dark charcoal suit but the jacket is unbuttoned as are several of the buttons of his creamy white linen shirt making him look casually relaxed. His eyes are open and trusting but there is a gleam of jaded knowledge in their depths that tells Will that this man has seen a lot in his life, not all of it pleasant but he hasn't let it make him close off from the world around him. His rather hawkish features are sharp but not unpleasantly so and the laugh and smile lines are well worn belaying an easy-going personality. He radiates a sense of commitment and interest in everything around him that generates into a sincere concern and capability that he instinctively wants to trust.
"Hello, you must be the friends Liam went to pick up." The man in the suit says warmly. "Welcome to what is usually lovely sunny
Wil runs his glance over all of them again and decides that they're eclectic personalities will make them interesting people to get to know. He feels a hand curve over his shoulder and tilts his head up to meet Liam's gaze and smiles at the possessive gleam in his eye and lets him drawing him closer, liking the weight of his hand on him.
"This is Captain Kevyn Lorne, Detectives Charles Gunn and Lindsey McDonald, and Chief Coroner Winifred Burkle." Liam introduces gesturing to each person in turn. "I'd like to introduce Drs. Rupert Giles and Anya Jensen." Liam motions to Giles and Anya who smile and nod polite hellos. Liam sweeps his arm around Wil's shoulders. "And this is Wil." Liam says proudly.
"Chief Inspector William Falkner, Interpol taskforce on Human Trafficking." Wil says confidently as he stretches out to shake the Captain's hand as he extends it.
"Oh my stars, I've read about your work." The young Coroner says hurrying forward to meet Giles and Anya and shakes their hands vigorously several times while talking a mile a minute.
"We're glad you could take some time to help us out with this case, I must say it has us baffled." The Captain says regretfully but before his voice can trail off they've sprung into action.
Giles rolls over to several cork bulletin and white marker boards and begins to review the information, correlating and sorting through what he knows and what he still needs to find out. Anya and Winifred are engaged in a quietly intense conversation that is carried out at such high speed and using so many technical and medical terms that most of them are left in their verbal dust. Liam is seated behind his desk with Wil perched on a corner of it, reading a file that Liam's just handed him and they're carrying on a strange conversation where they can't fully ask a question before the other answers it. Lorne, Charles, and Lindsey all share a shrugging glance and make the best of things and go back to eating what is passing for their dinner.
After about forty minutes Giles looks over his shoulder with a furrowed brow. "Wil, could you come over here and have a look at this?"
Wil moves over to stand at his shoulder and follows his pointing finger as it points to several of the letters that they've received from the serial killer.
"Yeah Mate; I think you're on the right track about him not being American." Wil's voice is quiet but it's like a bomb going off as everyone else hurries over to crowd around them.
Wil looks around in confusion as someone crowds right up against his back, much closer than they need to be and his eyes narrow and his lip curls as Lindsey McDonald accidentally bumps him with a suggestive wiggle of his hips. Liam sees the look and Lindsey finds himself politely but inexorably shoved over as he muscles him aside to cup Wil's shoulders protectively.
"What do you mean about the killer not being American?" Lorne asks confused. "How can you tell that from these?" He asks leaning farther forward to get a closer look.
"The use and spelling of some of the words are pretty distinctive. Have a look, there, he used the word honour, Americans spell it without the u; he's done that a few times in several of these. There he used the words barmy and bollocksed those are pretty common words in
"Now that could mean several different things dependant on context. One; we're dealing with someone that was educated outside the United States, likely as a young child and in England, which would account for their natural use of slang and English variant spelling. Two; we're dealing with an Immigrant, again likely from
"In your opinion Dr. Giles, which of these possibilities is the most likely?" Lorne asks.
Giles considers for a moment, consulting briefly with Wil. "I would say possibilities three and four are highly unlikely. If it was three, than I would have expected their usage to be more haphazard and random, present in some instances and absent in others with some mistakes in how they're used. This is consistent and the sentence structure is natural and not forced." Giles says finally.
"So why couldn't someone be doing that deliberately, faking it to throw us off track?" Charles asks confused.
Giles smiles and explains. "Some of these words and usages are rare, even for half-English, half-American people like me to use. I've been in this country for a long time and they're just not commonly used words, except by other English people. I had to consult with Wil on a couple of instances myself as he is more familiar with the speech patterns and usage than I am living in the
"Plus there's the fact that it would have been pointless to undertake such an elaborate ruse, how would they know that you would pick up on it? None of you are English and even Giles, who is half-English had to ask my opinion." Wil points out. "Additionally I'd say he's pretty damn familiar with you blokes, as evidenced by the Bogtrotter slam there. That was obviously intended as an insult towards Liam, unless one of you other blokes happens to be of the Shamrock-huggin' variety."
Eyes widen as everyone takes a step closer to re-read the notes more carefully and one by one they all come to realise that each of them has been insulted personally at least once. Anya also points out several other instances that she's picked up on that could point to somewhat of a familiarity with the taskforce members. Everyone falls silent as they each digest the newest facts.
"Oh and you may want to consider the fact that he's apparently targeting gay men." Wil says casually. Again it's like a bomb going off and everyone starts talking at once. "Look he uses the phrases 'bent like a bottle of chips' and 'as bent as a nine bob note' which are both used in reference to homosexuality as well as meaning dishonest, crooks and other disreputable or 'wrong' sorts. Given that all the victims have been male..." Wil explains.
"We could have a possibly English serial killer with a hatred for gay men." Lindsey says arrogantly.
"No, I don't think it's hatred at all." Anya states surprisingly.
"I'd have to agree my dear." Giles says with a pleased nod as he lifts Anya's hand and kisses the back in pleased acknowledgement. "Look at the time he took to set up each victim, the care and attention to detail in selecting the method of killing and the apparent deliberation in the selection of these particular men. I would say that he is being fairly picky as to whom he selects, which could work in our favour. It could force him to slow down in order to find a victim that suits whatever pattern or profile he needs for his next murder. Additionally he'll need time to plan on how to approach them."
"If he was picking people at random we'd be hip deep in bodies already." Liam adds. "Could there be some connection between the men, other than the fact that they may well be gay, something that ties them to our killer?"
"In four of the cases I found evidence of recent sexual activity with a male. The samples were heavily contaminated with a spermicidal agent and he's a nonsecretor as well, which makes our job more difficult. The spermicidal agent is very common and sold in just about every drugstore from here to
"We should search the INS database for a list of Visas issued and check that against our sexual crimes database and see if we get any common hits." Lindsey says.
"Good idea Linds, you can take care of that." Liam says not bothering to hide his smirking grin. "Wil and I will re-interview the witnesses and canvas the neighbourhoods where the bodies were found, it could be there's information left to find. If anyone can get them to open up it is Wil." Liam says proudly.
"Are we so sure it's a man we're looking for?" Charles asks. "The evidence points to the same man being involved with at least four of the victims true but is there any indication that he was the one to kill them?"
Winifred glances at her notes, her brow furrowed as her incredibly focused mind computes several factors to arrive at her answer. "I would say that in at least one case, our assailant was... engaged with the victim only moments before death, possibly even during the act itself. The scenes would also tend to support the theory that our assailant is a man as setting up the victims into whatever scene he's playing would require greater strength than most women could bring to bear. It is possible we could be looking at a possible accomplice, with one distracting the victim and a second person helping to subdue them and carry out the murder. We don't have any evidence to support a second person at any of the crime scenes however." She decides finally. "I suppose at this point it would be better to keep our minds and options open at this point."
"We've got some new leads to follow and that's what we were after." Lorne says very pleased with their progress already. "McDonald you can handle the computer checks and Gunn and Ms. Burkle can go over things again, see if we've missed any evidence that could point to more than one person being involved in this. Liam, you and Inspector Falkner can proceed with your interviews and we'll see if you can turn up any additional information. Drs. Giles and Jensen, if you could be kind enough to look over the criminal profile our psychologists came up with and make any additions that you think we'll help us to catch this maniac? We've got a direction people; let's move our asses like we know where we're going!" Lorne says jovially, smiling as the group swings into action.
Lorne looks on pleased at having new leads to follow and finds that he's glad that he gently pushed, nudged, and bullied Liam into calling his old friends. He looks over at his old friend and almost blushes as he observes him interacting with his ex-partner, though seeing them together he has serious doubts about just how 'ex' they actually are.
For as long as he's known Liam he's always been rather aloof, almost self-contained to the extreme, but he seems almost like another person around his old friends. He can count on one hand the number of times that Liam has touched him other than in the course of duty, shaking hands, even on one amazing occasion hugging him on the announcement of his youngest daughter's birth. He can count still fewer times that Liam has allowed himself to be touched in anything other than an incidental and cursory manner that goes along with his job. Watching him now, he's not only allowing himself reach out to his old friends, in particular his sexily disarming former partner, but he's almost demanding their touches with all the insistence of a young child wanting to held. It's obvious to him now that whatever the relationship between Liam and William Falkner is...it's far from over.
Things are going to get exciting in
They're in their own little world and it seems Lindsey McDonald isn't even going to be allowed in orbit, as Liam turns Wil and himself just enough to present Lindsey with his broad back, cutting him out with a subtle but ruthless gesture. Lorne almost laughs at the apoplectic look on Lindsey's face; he's not used to Liam showing him up; which is surprising since he always does and without even trying. You'd think Lindsey would have gotten used to it by now, Lorne thinks, smiling inside. It's about time the arrogant Oklahoman realised he's not the only heartthrob in the office. He should get a pool started on just how long it will take Liam to snap and lay him out with a punch to the jaw, Lorne thinks as he returns to his desk. Having observed the obviously affectionate couples for the last hour and a half, he finds he has a sudden need to call home and talk to his wife.
The city sleeps before the dawn but out among the shadows and the curtain of rain, footsteps fall and a killer roams the city. Will the dawn bring relief from the terror as another night passes or merely one more nightmare for the incessantly hungry front pages of the newspapers? Only one man knows and the only way for the city to reap that knowledge is in the panicked screams of unfortunate witnesses and the wail of sirens and the cacophony of flashing lights. All the world's a stage and who knows when the curtain will go up on the next act?
TBC
In Part Two: The conclusion of Under The Shield.
The murderer is found but will it be in time to save the life of one of their own?