Tales From The Badge Series: Under The Shield
Tales From The Badge Series: Under The Shield
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all the good stuff.
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characters, recognisable likenesses are retained by their owner and accredited
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style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Writer’s Notes
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.
stylcolocolor:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Writer’s Credits
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.
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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.
their former
S.C.U., Special Crimes Unit, of the Los Angeles Police Department. Sometimes
being a hero means just doing your job.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Story Summary
extraordinary men as the manhunt begins.
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*Introspective
commentary*
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style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Chapter One
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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 allnd ond 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
could tell you the exact numbers of how often murder occurs almost to the
minute in the city and we’d love to believe that those numbers never touch us,
that each number is a life lost. Sometimes death wears such an ugly face and
the means of the end so heinous and disturbing that we can’t ignore it anymore
and the nightmare becomes our reality.
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 offeoffer 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
fairly certain that neither man was killed on the premises. The tests verifying
that the men were each killed more than twenty-four hours before also tends to
support that hypothesis.
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
‘no Sno 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'>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
prepared to overlook. Petty Officer Third Class Robert McMahn, on leave from
his post at a San Diego shipyard would be the sixth victim of what they were
finally beginning to understand were possible serial murders.
The young
man was found in the bowels of one of the innumerable massage parlours that
dotted the
was quite popular with servicemen and it was not unknown for the oriental
inspired business, with it’s whispered reputation for shadier dealings, to have
its share of violence. That a young naval officer should meet his end inside
its walls was unfortunate but it had been known to happen occasionally but it
the manner of death that was of more concern.
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
fishermen. Distilled from the poison glands of a rare type of Scorpion Fish,
the toxin quickly paralyses the nervous system causing death within minutes.
The autopsy also verified that the young serviceman had been sexually active
only minutes before his death and that it was likely that whomever he was with
was also his killer. A search warrant was quickly issued, with the weight of
the United States Navy pushing behind it, and the police forensic team arrived
just moments after the fire trucks dispatched to fight the raging fire gutting
what was once Madame Wu’s massage parlour.
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
of his six victims without raising the alarm. The populace of the city was
outraged and politicians rallied to the hot cause of the election year and
pushed for a more stringent police response to the reign of terror. So a
special task force was formed and charged with bringing in a madman that had eluded
their detection for so long that it took them almost a half a year to discover
there was even a connection.
Everyone
knew that it would only be a matter of time before the Modern Day Jack the
Ripper struck again.
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style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Chapter Two
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style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Detective Second Class Liam O’Shae
pulls up outside thtesttest 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.
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style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Officers!” He barks as he hops
out of his black 1967
over, recogng a g a superior officer’s authority. “This is a
want all of these civilians escorted
off the premises and back down to the street. The only cars and people I am
expecting to see out here when I get back are official police business and the
coroner. Am I clear?” He growls and the officers snapatteattention and hurry to
gather more fellow patrolmen to start rousting out the press corps.
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style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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,h evh every
outrageous whim all too easily supplied by his family’s old blood wh anh and
his not un-lucrative political career.
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style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
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style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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
smile of his own as he steps up to join their small circle. “I’m afraid we’ve
got another victim for task force Liam.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“That would explain the ocean of
press I had to swim through to get in here.” Liam replies with a grimace. He
throws up handhand 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“What we lwe 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
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style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Who found the body?” He asks.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
had 2 officers accompany them and they’ll escort our witness home after she’s
been checked out but I don’t think she knows anything more than what she’s told
us. The paramedics reported that the Councilman was dead when they arrived.”
The Captain recites looking over his notes.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-lane:ENe:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Not a lot of help then. Do we
even know if it was a man or a woman?” Liam growls.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“I’m afraid not Liam, the
Councilman’s sexual habits are…were rather infamous in political circles, he
was openly bisexual.” Lorne replies.
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style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 pulf clf clear sets of prints. The son of a bitch was so
arrogant that he hadn’t bothered to wear gloves.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“You were involved in the Dimitri
Laszlo Case?” Lorne asks surprised as Liam nods.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>That was one of the most
publicised trials in the history of the
including the lamentable loss of life in the bombing incident. He can tell from
the haunted look in Liam’s eyes that there is more, a lot more that he’s not
saying.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 es
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>A one time student at the
murder of his young girlfriend Drusilla Vander would lead to an epiphany.
Choosing to leave Harvard over his parents’ objections, he enrolled in the
institutions of its type. He would chance to meet a visiting lecturer in the
form of Lieutenant Rupert Giles and their similar backgrounds led the pair to
strike up a quick friendship.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Inspired by his
towards his own PhD in criminal justice and would be eventually find himself
promoted to the Detective Division only a month before Liam arrived. As the two
‘new kids on the block’ they were quick to strike up a friendship and often
found themselves assigned to the same cases and would eventually be assigned as
full time partners. Lieutenant Giles would take it upon himself to guide them,
treating them almost like a Father and teaching them everything he knew. It
wasn’t long before Detectives Falkner and O’Shae were among the best that the
NYPD had, a fact that always made Giles grin like the Cheshire Cat.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>A one time student at the
murder of his young girlfriend Drusilla Vander would lead to an epiphany.
Choosing to leave Harvard over his parents’ objections, he enrolled in the
institutions of its type. He would chance to meet a visiting lecturer in the
form of Lieutenant Rupert Giles and their similar backgrounds led the pair to
strike up a quick friendship.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Inspired by his
towards his own PhD in criminal justice and would be eventually find himself
promoted to the Detective Division only a month before Liam arrived. As the two
‘new kids on the block’ they were quick to strike up a friendship and often
found themselves assigned to the same cases and would eventually be assigned as
full time partners. Lieutenant Giles would take it upon himself to guide them,
treating them almost like a Father and teaching them everything he knew. It
wasn’t long before Detectives Falkner and O’Shae were among the best that the
NYPD had, a fact that always made Giles grin like the Cheshire Cat.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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
moment he’d met him, Wil had made him the focus of his world. He was open about
his desire to be his lover and in his fantasies and his most private dreams, he
was that and more. The seduction was long and slow but in the end he couldn’t
deny his feelings, his desire, or his…love for Wil.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 Wif hef 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>He remembers the pain of having to
find out that Wil had resigned and was planning to move overseas to
discussing his going away party the night before. He’d frantically hurried over
to the apartment Wil had quietly rented and arranged to have his things moved
to after the ‘Darla Incident’ but it was empty. He was too late.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“You know you still have the best
car on the force Liam.” Lorne says as he hops in, jarring him back to the
present.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Chapter Three
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 Lon 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Laszlo was a real sick son of a
bitch, who had an ego the size of
Charles Manson and just as famous for the evil things he’d done. He committed
some of the most heinous and twisted murders we’d ever seen, the bodies were so
mutilated that there are parts of some that still haven’t been found to my
knowledge.” Liam’s voice is dead, cold, his emotions tightly leashed.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
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
afraid that I can’t place it offhand.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Wil left NYPDNYPD after his
recovery and moved to
adding, “I’ve kept track of his career over the years; he’s some big shot
undercover specialist with Interpol now. He cracked that big white slavery ring
case about a month back.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-languaN-GBN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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?”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Could he have had an Accomplice,
someone that could be killing in his name now?” Lorne wonders out loud.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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?”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 hetes tes 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
says finally but it’s clear from his voice that he’s expected to be told no by
his ex-partner. Lorne gets the feeling that there is more to that relationship
than Liam has felt like talking to him about. He decides to change the subject
to happier topics and tells him about his
with his wife Harmony and their children.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“He’s set up a Karaoke stage.” Eve
says with a grin. “It’s open mic from nine ‘til
She asks chuckling and shaking her head.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Lorne laughs and vigorously shakes
his head. “Could you even imagine me on a singing on a stage?”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Chapter Four
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>The decision to live in
decision. The scenic drive often gives him time to start winding down from his
hectic night or to mentally prepare for the rigors of his career depending on
which direction he’s going.
almost resort town feel to it. He found a real steal of a deal on a gorgeous
home on a full acre of land located on the north-western tip of Balboa Island
with a beautiful view of Newport Bay. The home required a lot of work, most of
which he was able to do himself over the years, he wouldn’t have been able to
purchase it if it hadn’t have been for Wil and Giles. They had teamed up to
write a biography of the Laszlo case that had done very well on the bookstore
shelves and they insisted on giving him a third of the proceeds. He’d tried to
refuse it, but they were insistent that it was their story and that all
of them should share in the proceeds. He was thankful for their generosity as
he was able to have something that he’d never really had before; a home.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>The sun is well into the sky as
Liam approaches his home, slowing only briefly to hit the control for the
garage door op, he, 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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
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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 wellwell 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Rupert Giles’ office, this is
Buffy may I help you?” A soft feminine voice answers.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 allsalls.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Hi Liam, yes he’s in but on one
of the other lines, would you like to wait?”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Yes, please. How is the old
reprobate doing?”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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
friends?” He asks bluntly.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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?”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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
phone line.” His voice deepens emotionally. “I’ve missed you too Kid.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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
by that and he can’t say that he blames him, but he can sure be jealous of him.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“That must be driving him crazy by
now.” Liam notes with a grin.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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?”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Hello Liam.” He finds a smile
curving his lips as the voice definitely warms somewhat.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Wil, where are you?” Liam asks;
his brows rose in sudden suspicion.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Just some hole in the wall tavern
in this backwater town I was passing through.” Wil says finally after another
loud thud.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
stylcolocoloroonroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“You’ll never change.” Liam says
with a grin and affectionate laughter in his voice.
style='color:maroon;msoi-lai-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 andquicquickly
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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 thok aok 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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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
arranged for a public flight to LAX, I get in at
to need to pack anything special?” He asks after a brief pause. Liam knows that
he’s asking whether or not he should bring the paperwork that will allow him to
travel armed.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GHe kHe 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Chapter Five
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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
and Giles is able to the assistance of the two men to make his way down the
steps. He’s gently lowered into his wheelchair as an attractive woman in black
knee length boots and a simple red jersey dress and a black bomber jacket exits
next. Giles asked if he could bring someone with him when he visited, a special
someone that he wanted him to meet. As he watches the younger woman makes her
way to Giles’ side with nimble grace, and Giles immediately reaches out to
brush a windblown lock of hair out of her eyes. Liam smiles, the love they
share is clear even from a distance as she takes his hand and keeps pace with
the wheelchair, obligingly pushed towards the doors by the pilot. Behind him
Liam can see the co-pilot overseeing the offloading of their baggage before
climbing back inside the jet and closing the door and taxiing the jet to a
holding hangar nearby. His smile becomes a grin as the doors open to admit the
trio.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“I don’t mind at all, thank you
for asking us Liam. I…we never sleep apart if we have a choice.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“I can certainly understand that.”
Liam says with a smile as Giles grins widely and Anya laughs quietly. “Wil’s
plane gets in at
isn’t much of a wait. He’s coming in at gate sixteen, why don’t you two head
that way and I’ll wait here for your bags and then drop them by the car and
come join you?” He offers.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Liam catches his breath on a gasp
at his first look at Wil in almost eight years. The almost felinely shafeatfeatures 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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?
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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
gently pulling his hand free and sliding it back partially into his pocket.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
l'>style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 ther,her, part of them
knows that and accepts it even now, as estranged as they are, they are still
driven to touch and be touched.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Anya takes over pushing Giles’
wheelchair and notes with some amused affection tLiamLiam 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 whr orr 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 ottwo two to return.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“I rather expected there would be
more…fireworks?” Anya admits readily.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 sid the 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Chapter Six
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Giles, Anya, may I get you
something to drink?” He asks politely.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“I’d love a Ginger Wine if you
have it.” Anya says with a smile.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“That’s one part Ginger Ale and
three parts white wine Lad.” Giles adds helpfully.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 startakinaking it down as soon as we can look
over everything.” Giles says adjusting his eyeglasses anxiously.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
-GB
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“You get to do what you do best.”
Liam growls.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Okay, but I thought you had laws
in this country about doing that in
public.” Wil says smirking.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Okay, what you do second best
then.” Liam says chuckling wickedly. “You’ll be coming with me.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Oh God; we’re going to re-interview the witnesses, you horny toad!”
Liam says with laugh.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Ribbit, ribbet, Mate.” Wil purrs
and everyone laughs as the phone starts to ring.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“I’d like to change into something
a bit hardier in view of the weather.” Anya decides, kissing Giles’ cheek and
standing up.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Sure, come with me ducks, I’d
like to change too so I can show you to your ron thn 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 de. de.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Liam traces the silhouette of a
sted aed 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 aast.ast.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“You always said that I should
have a guardian angel at my back.” Wil says softly, not turning around to look
at him.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-lage:Ege:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Is this…the same collar?” Wil’s
voice is soft and low, almost breathing the words. “Yes.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 nog.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>>&nb>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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
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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“No one touches you, Wil, no one
but ME.” Liam growls, closing his
hands around his shoulders and jerkiim tim 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
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
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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 lookingr tor to
see that Anya and Giles are doing much the same while smiling at them with
loving approval.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“You’ll be okay to drive, been a
while since you were in the States?” He asks softly.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“I was in
here again, I’ll be fine.” Wil promises with a smile.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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
sighing as his mouth is welcomed and the kiss returned. “What you said
earlier…I was stupid and awful to do what I did, no matter why I thought I was
doing it, it hurt us both terribly. I’m not asking you to forget what I did and
I know you told me that you forgave me a long time ago, but I’m not sure I can
be so generous and forgive myself for doing it. I promise to try and I want you
to be here with me. You told me to choose and I realise that I did that a long
time ago and now I have to live by that decision. I want to be yours, I’ve
always been yours and I want us to be together, in everything.” He says
haltingly, his voice low and deep, carrying no farther than Wil’s sensitive
ears.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Chapter Seven
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 undergroundage.age.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 yelloweatweater 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 unpletly tly 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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 California.” His grin is quick to appear and lights his
eyes from within.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-languEN-GEN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
sty
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.nd tnd this is Wil.” Liam says proudly.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Oh my stars, I’ve read about your
work.” The young Coroner says hung fng forward to meet Giles and Anya and
shakes their hands vigorously several times while talking a mile a minute.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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
rtfultfully but before his voice can trail off they’ve sprung into action.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>After about forty minutes Giles
looks over his shoulder with a furrowrow.row. “Wil, could you come over here
and have a look at this?”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Wil moves over to stand at his
shoulder and follows his pointing finger as it points to several he lhe letters
that they’ve received from the serial killer.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 London, but I’ve not seen them used here much by Americans if at all.
And there he used the words Scally and Bogtrotter, again not common words for
Americans to use; in fact many may not even be aware of what they actually
mean. He doesn’t do that in the majority of the notes, but he’s consistent in
the usage when he does.” Wil says pointing out some examples.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 England given
this specific slang usage and spelling variants. Three; we’re dealing with
someone that has had a lot of exposure to English both spoken and written, to
the point where they’ve unconsciously begun to mirror it. Four; we’re dealing
with someone clever enough to plant clues to make us think that they are.”
Giles begins to lecture, carefully pointing out and elaborating with examples.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“In your opinion Dr. Giles, which
of these possibilities is the most likely?” Lorne asks.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“So why couldn’t someone be doing
that deliberately, faking it to throw us off track?” Charles asks confused.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 tpeecpeech patterns
and usage than I am living in the U.S. rather than England.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 e ofe of the Shamrock-huggin’ variety.”
style='r:mar:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“Oh and you may want to consider
the fact that he’s apparently targeting gay men.” Wil says casually. Again it’s
like a booingoing 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 victimse
be
been male…” Wil explains.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“We could have a possibly English
serial killer with a hatred for gay men.” Lindsey says arrogantly.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“No, I don’t think it’s hatred at
all.” Anya states surprisingly.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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?”
style='color:on;mon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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 New York and in quite a few countries.
We’ve been trying for a DNA screening, but so far we’ve yet to get a viable
sample that hasn’t been contaminated. If I had to guess, I’d say this guy knows
what he’s doing and has a lot of experience in how to screw up our test results
and forensic procedures, so I’d hazard to say we’re looking for an intelligent
person or possibly someone with some medical background.” Winifred says walking
to to grab his briefcase and consulting her notes. “We’re about ninety
percent positive that we’re looking at the sperm as coming from the same donor
in each case we’ve got evidence for. The other two cases are inconclusive, I’m
afraid those bodies were already embalmed and interred and we were unable to
recover much evidence from them. We got to them just too late after the fact
that they were connected to the case.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style=\or:mor:mn;msn;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='coloroonroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
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?”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:B'>B'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.”
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>“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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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 nhe’she’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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>Things are going to get exciting
in Los Angeles and whoever their psycho killer is, he has a feeling that all
the pieces necessary to bring him down have now arrived, Lorne thinks. As he
watches, Liam curls his arm around Wil’s collarbone, pulls him flush against
his chest and rubs his other hand slowly over his stomach. It doesn’t look like
he even realises what he’s doing, as they stand talking and he looks down at
his animatedly gesturing friend with a look that could only be called loving.
Lorne watches in wonder, things are going to get exciting in more ways than one
it seems, as he catches the expression on Lindsey’s face as he fails to get
their attention.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>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.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
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 cacop of of flashing lights. All the
world’s a stage and who knows when the curtain will go up on the next act?
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
TBC
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>In Part Two: The conclusion of
Under The Shield.
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>The murderer is found but will it be
in time to save the life of one of their own?
style='color:maroon;mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>