"Henry, no one is going to believe we are lovers."

Never taking his eyes off the road, Henry lit another cigarette and
drew the smoke in deeply, savoring the calming effect of nicotine
before blowing a smoke ring. Lips still pursed in an "O"
shape, he glanced sideways at Chandler.

"Did you see that? A perfect ring."

"Yes, I saw it H, now can you focus on the problem at hand here?"

Henry half smiled at the whiny pitch of Chandler's question. Such
an emotional little guy.

"Why is this assignment weirding you out so much? The Morlocks are
going after gay couples trying to adopt getting them to sign a
Faustian deal in exchange for babies. We need to go in undercover,
therefore we go in as a couple. What's the big deal?"

Chandler's eyebrows leapt up dramatically in surprise.

"What's the big deal? How can you be so calm about this? I'm
talking about going in public, acting like your boyfriend, Henry,
your BOYFRIEND, for Christ's sake. And you don't find that majorly
weird? C'mon, H, Ford and Decker are never going to let us live this
down."

"Do what I always do. Ignore em'." Henry took another drag forming
another ring. "Two in a row, damn I'm good."

Chandler let out a sigh. "Easy for you to say, they're always riding
my ass sbout something. The only time I see them riding you is when
I mess up."

Henry rolled down the window flicking the ashes out the
window. "When I joined they rode my ass alot more then what they're
doing to you right now. You don't know how many times I blew up in
Decker's face. But in time I learned that if you ignore em, It seems
to lessen little by little."

Henrny handed Chandler a cigarette. "You know those thing will kill
you."

They parked the car infront of a night club.

"Man do we have to do this?"

Henry took Chandler's hand. "What don't you love me anymore?" Henry
asked in a mock tone, Chandler snatched his hand away. "Shatup!"

Henry looked at the name on the piece of paper said 'Candle Light
Club'.

They got out of the car.

"Alright, man, it's time to get the game face on." Henry reminded him.

"Great." Chandler groaned.

As they walked towards the entrance, Henry slipped his fingers
through Chandler's in firm grip. Chandler tried to act cool and
stayed close.

The Candle Light Club was exactly what its named suggested. Giant
chandaleers with candles hung from the ceiling. Candle-lit tables for
two circled the dance floor which was pitch black except for the
small amount of light coming from the candles above. Chandler watched
the shadowy couples dance and talk and gulped nervously.
Unconsciously, he tightened his grip.

McNeil stopped. "What's wrong, man? See somethin'?" He looked down
at Smythe and took his other hand in the appearance of a casual
loving gesture.

"I don't know. I don't think I can do this, H." His sad blue eyes
glanced up and then darted nervously about the room.

Henry squeezed his hands reassuringly. "Course you can, Chan." He
touched their foreheads together for a second. "Just stick close to
me and everything'll be fine. You'll see."

Chandler sighed in agreement and they made their way over to the
bar. "Let's grab a table." Henry suggested after they had each gotten
a drink. They chose one that provided them with the widest view of
the place. McNeil enjoyed the slow burn as his drink slid down his
throat. His brown eyes darkened in concern as he watched his partner
quickly gulp down his own. "You better take it easy." He warned.

"Easy for you to say." Smythe replied sourly.

Henry sighed. "I'm gonna take a look around. I'll be back. And be
cool."

Chandler hunched down in his seat. First he tells me to stay with
him, then he leaves me. Chandler whined silently. Some partner.

He was on his second drink when a man approached him. He was very
tall and very muscular in a menacing sort of way. "Don't think I've
ever seen you here before." He said gruffly.

Chandler did not care for that tone at all. "Don't think I've ever
been here before." He leaned back defensively after firing off his
sarcastic reply.

"You alone?"

Chandler was saved from answering when another man walked over.
"That's enough, Ike. Now get the hell out of here."

Ike shuffled off and his dismissor paid him no mind.

"Forgive me," he spoke kindly. "I hope your evening hasn't been
ruined. My name's Theodore and I'm the owner." He offered his hand in
greeting.

"Chandler." Chandler replied and shook his hand.

"I'm very sorry this occured. You can be assured it won't happen
again."

"It's alright."

"It's not alright. And to make up for it, all your drinks are free.
I insist."

"Thanks."

"And your companion's drinks are on the house too. Is he alright? I
noticed you two come in together." Theodore explained.

"Yeah, he's okay. He'll be back soon."

"Good." He hesitated. "If you don't mind my saying so, I think you
two make a very handsome couple."

Chandler blushed.

"If you two ever need anything, let me know."

"Thanks." Chandler managed to mumble.

"Enjoy yourselves." Theodore smiled and walked away.

Chandler's mind was spinning. Could Theodore be one of the Morlocks
they were after? Maybe he was the head of the operation. Was Ike
involved too? He certainly hoped not. That guy was trouble with a
capital T. Where the hell are you, H?

He nodded absently as the waiter brought him another drink. All
around him, men sat and talked and laughed and danced. The soft slow
music added a sensualness to the dark candle-lit atmosphere. He
gulped down his drink. McNeil materialized out of the darkness.

"What the hell took you so long?"

"Had to pay a visit to the john." His eyes narrowed. "Somethin's
obviously happened with you."

"Yeah, a whole shit load."

"Well, you can tell me over a dance." McNeil's fingers closed around
his hand and he started to pull him up.

"H, I don't wanna dance."

"Well, I do, so humor me."

McNeil led him out onto the dance floor and the music seemed to get
louder. Henry wrapped his arm around his waist and held him close.
"Man, you are so tense. Relax. Remember what we're here for, Chan."

"Kinda hard to after what just happened." He muttered, but their
closeness calmed him and his partner's scent lingered at the back of
his mind in a pleasant way. They moved slowly in time with the music
and eventually he leaned his head on Henry's chest.

"That's better." The taller man muttered. He bent his head closer.
"So, what happened?"

"Why the hell do we have to meet Mr. Illegal Back-Alley Adoption _
here _ and not in a nice office or something?" Chandler griped.

"Cuz this is what we have to do. It's the order of things," Henry
replied. "Now quitcherbitchin' and tell me what happened."

Chandler sighed. "I got hit on by a behemoth," he muttered, and
Henry snickered.

"This behemoth got a name?" he asked.

"Ike."

"Ike," Henry repeated contemplatively, glancing around the room.
"Was he hot?"

"H!" Chandler squawked. "I'm having a hard enough time, here, but if
you start _ cruising _, my head'll explode."

"Spoilsport," Henry said petulantly. "You never let me have any
fun." He reached up and tugged once on Chandler's earlobe before
settling a hand on the back of his neck.

Despite himself

(hell - despite the whole situation)

Chandler grinned. "I guess he was pretty hot," he mused. "If you're
into the thick-necked intimidating type, that is."

"Watch it, man," Henry said, tightening his arm around Chandler's
waist. "I think I'm the jealous type."

Resting his head on Henry's chest again, Chandler made a small noise

(my, my, my, friends and neighbors, was that a _ giggle _ ?)

and said, "Yeah, well if muscle-boy comes back, I'll expect you to
defend my maidenly virtue, okay?"

Henry chuckled. "Way ahead of you, babe."

The mellow music was mellowing Chandler, and he slid his arms around
his partner's waist, under his leather jacket. "How are we supposed
to recognize Mr. Adoption again?" he asked.

Henry rested his chin on the top of Chandler's head. "He, uh...he said
he'd be wearing a red leather tie," he said, and felt Chandler smile
against his chest.

"Like Marilyn Manson in Anti-Christ Superstar?"

"We don't use the M word, Chan," Henry said. "That guy gives me the
willies."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Think he's a morlock?"

"Nah," Henry said. "Too obvious. He's just a creepy guy."

They swayed together in companionable silence for a while, and as
they did, Chandler was surprised and even a little bit dismayed to
realize that he felt utterly at ease, completely at home in Henry's
arms, he was relaxed, he was even..._ enjoying _ himself, enjoying
this
closeness with his partner, the feel and the smell of him...

"I guess this isn't too bad," he said. "It's actually sort of...I
dunno...nice."

"Mmm," Henry agreed.

"I met the owner, a guy named Theodore," Chandler said after a
moment. "He said all our drinks are on the house."

"Cool," Henry said. "Nice of him."

Chandler raised his head and looked at his partner. "He also said we
make a handsome couple."

Henry laughed aloud at that. "See, o ye of next-to-no faith?" he
said. "I told you we could pull this off. We're gorgeous, you and
me."

Impulsively, he leaned down, brushed a light kiss over his partner's
lips, and drew back again.

Chandler simply...froze, his eyes wide, and his expression utterly
blank.

"Chan?" Henry asked, peering at him in the dimness. "You okay, man?"

Chandler blinked once, and his eyes cleared, finally focusing on
Henry. "Um...do - " he cleared his throat. "Do that again."

Henry shrugged, puzzled but willing. "Okay," he said, and bent
forward again, pressing his lips to Chandler's.

This kiss was...quite different. It was much more of a mutual effort,
and it caught both of them completely off guard. What had been merely
pleasant and affectionate was now pleasurable and suddenly passionate
- something to be shared and savoured.

Then they drew apart again, staring dazedly into one another's eyes.

"Woah," Henry said after a moment, sliding his fingers into
Chandler's hair. Chandler was staring up at him, eyes wide with shock
and maybe even a touch of panic.

"Hey, Chan, it's okay." Henry's other hand came up to touch his
partner's cheek gently. "I swear..."

He was cut off abruptly as Chandler surged upwards, covering Henry's
slightly parted lips with his own, his tongue seeking immediate
entrance. They both froze for one split second, then Henry's hand in
Chandler's hair fisted, tugging almost painfully, and Chandler's arms
tightened around his partner's waist, pulling him close.

Their tongues took up the dance their bodies had abandoned, a warm,
wet, velvety slide and thrust. Chandler whimpered - a sound Henry
felt more than heard, everything around them faded into a far-off
echo, and they were locked together in a kiss so deep and intense
that it obliterated the rest of the universe.

Then, somewhere behind them, a bus boy dropped a tray of silverware,
and the crash seemed resounding. They both started violently at the
sound, and something made Henry glance over to the left. He saw a
slim, nondescript man, leaning against the wall and staring at he and
his partner. The man was wearing a red leather tie.

Henry took Chandler's hand, nodding towards the man. "Looks like Mr.
Adoption's here," he said, grinning, and tugged Chandler along after
him, heading for their appointment.

Chandler was utterly, completely dazed. All he could think was, _
Holy shit _, over and over again. Something had...happened to him,
there on the dance floor, something colossal. He could feel it
thrumming along his every nerve. It made him feel more alive than
he'd felt in far too long, alive and...starving. How the hell was he
supposed to act anywhere near normal after something like _ that _?

Well, he guessed he'd have to find a way, because they were standing
in front of Mr. Adoption, and he was talking. Chandler supposed that
he'd better compose himself - sooner or later, he'd have to talk,
too.

"You must be Mr. McNiel," he said and shook Henry's hand, then
turned on Chandler. "And Mr. Smythe? Lovely. If you'll just come this
way," his voice was...urbanely creepy, Chandler thought distantly.

"What's your name?" he asked, without having planned to do so.

"I'm Jules Grayson," the man replied, and held open a door. "Please,
come in."

Henry and Chandler followed Grayson into an office where he picked
up a set of keys and his jacket.

"Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes. We have a meeting. Right this way, gentlemen."

Chandler glanced at Henry, asking with his eyes. Henry just
shrugged.
They followed Mr. Grayson out to a huge blue pickup in the parking
lot.

Chandler squished in the truck behind Mr. Grayson (because the short
guy always has to sit in the middle he grumped to himself) cringing
when he realized he would be sitting on the "hump." He hated sitting
on the hump. And why was this well-dressed Morlock driving an '82
Ford pick-up anyway? Surely the black-market baby biz was profitable
enough to rate driving a Lexus, or hell, even a Taurus, but this?

Chandler reached into his jacket for a cigarette while leaning
forward to push in the car lighter when a sticky, stinky air
freshener hanging from the rear view mirror smacked him in the
forehead. Big cartoon cigarette with a cartoon wisp of smoke
underneath the huge red symbol for "no." As in no loitering. No
dogs allowed. No smoking. Shit. He crammed the crumbled pack of
Camels back into his pocket with a long-suffering sigh. Henry
elbowed Chandler in the ribs.

"Be cool, man."

Chandler turned on the puppy dog eyes at full blast.

"No smoking." Chandler's bottom lip stuck out even further if that
was possible. Henry just shook his head and smiled. He wanted to
tease his pouty partner, but there was weirdness between them right
now. Henry's eyes glazed over as he thought about the slow dance
that had brought on the weirdness. The way Chandler's pouty mouth
had felt gliding over his bottom lip … He felt his groin tighten in
response and imperceptibly shifted his hips towards Chandler. He
glanced sideways to see if Chan noticed, but Smythe was staring
straight ahead, arms wrapped around his knees. Now it was Henry's
turn to sigh dramatically.

/What is he sighing about? I'm the one stuck on the hump,
breathing noxious baby powder fumes from that fucking air freshener
hanging in my face. Maybe some tunes .../

Chandler twisted the knob to turn the radio volume up. Ugh.
Country music. All this _and_ Garth fucking Brooks?

Chandler glanced over at Henry, asking the question with his
eyebrows. Henry just shrugged then hid his smile when Chan
"accidently" changed the station when they hit a bump. Super sounds
of the '70's. Well, anything was better than Garth Brooks, right?

Chandler leaned back against the blue vinyl, resigned to making the
best out of the situation. Strange that Mr. Grayson was so quiet.
Well, it suited Chandler. His mind was still racing, and he didn't
feel like making small talk. Especially in such a tight space.

Smythe couldn't help the little smile that tugged at the corners of
his mouth as he recognized the intro to the song on the radio. His
stomach did a little flip-flop as it always did since watching *that*
scene in Reservoir Dogs, but he still liked it in spite of the
gruesome mental images he was reminded of. Hell, Michael Madsen
would make a great Corps agent ...

         Well I don't know why I came here tonight
        /because it's my job/

        I got the feelin' that somethin' ain't right
        /understatement of the year/

        I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair
        /duct tape will fix that hee hee/

        And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs.
      Clowns to the left of me /snort/
      Jokers to the right, here I am
      Stuck in the middle with you
      /stuck in purgatory with you/

      Yes, I'm stuck in the middle with you
      And I'm wondering what it is I should do
      /yeah me too/

        It's so hard to keep this smile from my face
        /it was a nice kiss. I wonder what the hell this next line is?/

      ... all over the place
      /ok, it was a fucking hot kiss/

           Clowns to the left of me,
        Jokers to the right
        Here I am, stuck in the middle with you

Smythe closed his eyes and thought about the man he was stuck with.
Henry was so warm, literally warm, his body gave off this heat that
pulled Chandler in. It was like he ran a constant fever. And it was
intoxicating. Chan unconsciously pressed closer to warmth sitting
next to him, craving it. He let his mind wander back to the club,
remembering how warm and soft Henry's hands felt around his waist.

Chan slowly opened his eyes, he realized that he wasn't day
dreaming. Henry's hands locked around his waist. Henry's eyes were
closed, his breathing steady, damn he was asleep!

Chandler smiled, snuggling closer to the warmth, breathing in Henry's
sent. 'God, I could do this forever.'

Chandler let out a small gasp as Henry squeezed tighter. Henry
leaned
over in his sleep, nuzzling his face into Chan's neck.

"Oh God." Chan whispered, as his heart began beating faster, his
blood pumping faster, causing his lower extremeties to swell. It was
almost painful. He slighly brushed a kiss across Henry's lips,
causing Henry to moan, twisting against Chandler.

/Fuck!/ Chandler panicked silently as his sensuous
thoughts were thrown out of kilter by another bump in
the road. /Goddamn road!/ He cursed silently.

As they went over the bump, Chan slid forward in the
seat heading for the dashboard. Swiftly, Henry
grabbed him. "Woah, Chan. You about got yourself a
concussion there, man. We're gone fix this. Come
'ere." He pulled his folded-up partner into his lap.
"There. Now you can stretch your legs."

/Oh god.... Now instead of being scrunched up on that
damn hump he was sideways in Henry's lap. Shit, Hen,
if you hold me any tighter I won't be able to breathe.
 But you're so warm and you smell so good. I can live
with this. Or maybe I can't. H, you slick bastard,
I'm gonna fucking pass out if you get any hotter. Not
to mention your dick is as hard as mine. God, I hope
this ride's a little longer or neither one of us is
going to be able to get out of here and walk./

Henry was delighted when Chan stuck his face in his
neck. "You alright?"

"Oh, yeah, just peachy, Henry." His mellow timbre was
wavering somewhat.

Henry turned to Grayson. "Careful, homes. We wanna get
there in one piece."

"Terribly sorry, Mr. McNeil. I shall endevor to avoid
anymore road hazards."

/Yeah, right./ Chandler scoffed silently.

/Damn, Chan, if you only knew how watery your voice
makes my insides feel sometimes. Your stubble's making
my skin prickle. If I'm not careful, I'm gonna crush
you. I could use another kiss right now. Damn.../
Henry decided to change the subject. They were both
getting closer and closer to losing control, but Henry
could not give their game plan. /Take it easy, Chan,
I got you./ "I'm excited, Chan. Can't wait for this
deal to be done. Ya know what?"

"What?" Chandler finally got his emotions under
control and looked at him.

"I want our little one to look just like you." He
rubbed their noses together and pulled back.

Chan's deep blue eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, geez,
Henry..." He could not think of anything else to say.
 /I can't believe you just said that. You're being so
sweet. Please don't let it be an act totally. You're
breaking my heart./

"It's true." Henry smiled softly and gave him a
little squeeze.

Chandler's eyes flitted over to their silent driver
and he shuddered inwardly at the smirk that was
plastered on the man's face. /No, Chan, much better
for you if you keep your eyes somewhere else. This
assignment sucked. Two creepy guys in one night. They
were probably going to meet another creepy guy if they
ever freakin' got there, wherever there was.
Suddenly, he was very glad H was holding him so
tightly. Think I'll just look at you, Henry. Their
faces nearly touched and his eyes were so dark and
warm. Yeah, I'll just look at you./

"Well, gentlemen, here we are." Grayson's voice broke
the silence that had ensued for the rest of the ride.
They had parked on the side of a non-descript white
building. The street lights were low and none of the
surrounding buildings looked familiar either. Henry
opened the door and Chan twisted around and got out.
"Right this way." Grayson invited pleasantly and
headed for the back of the building.

"Looks like we're takin' the secret passage, huh?"
Chandler looked up at Henry for his reaction.

"Guess so. Here we go." Henry took Chandler's hand
and they walked side by side, wondering what was
coming next.

Grayson held the door open and gestured for them to
enter. The door was white and a pepto-bismol pink font
read 'Dolly's Baby Dolls.' Chandler's forehead
wrinkled and he shared a subtle meaningful glance with
Henry. /This was too weird./

Seeing that they weren't moving right away, Grayson preceded them into the
room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Grayson turned, and
Henry's stomach gave a sickening lurch as he saw the gun the man held,
effectively covering he and Chandler both.

/Nuts,/ Chandler thought inelegantly as his eyes adjusted to the muted light
and he saw the big gun-toting goon standing beside the small desk - which
itself sat before a big window. No, big sliding glass doors, and the
survivalist in Chandler noted the tiny balcony-esque projection outside them
as a last-ditch escape route.

"Your weapons, gentlemen, if you please," Grayson drawled.

A glance exchanged and the decision was made. Henry and Chandler slowly took
out their guns and let them drop to the floor. Then they waited. Grayson was
chuckling low in his throat, shaking his head as he smiled wolfishly.

"Your _ knives _, gentlemen," he said. "The ones you were planning to kill us
with?"

Chandler froze, feeling Henry go utterly still beside him.

"That's right, boys," Grayson chirped, almost coquettishly, his gun never
wavering as he kicked their two guns out of reach. "You've been made!"

The ensuing silence was decidedly ominous, and it was Henry who finally broke
it.

"Motherfucker."

Despite himself, Chandler smirked a little. "You took the words right out of
my mouth, H."

Another look exchanged, another decision made. With a blur of movement, the
knife was thrown, and barely had that movement registered, and Henry's knife -
still quivering - was buried to the hilt in the goon's throat. With a
breathless, bubbling gurgle, he fell heavily to the floor.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Grayson cried in dismay, sparing the
fallen man a quick glance before turning his rapidly-darkening gaze back to
his captives. "He was a really great lay." Eyes hooded and unreadable, Grayson
leveled his gun at Henry.

Chandler didn't know he'd made the decision to move until was moving,
shielding Henry's body with his own, taking the bullet - the bullet meant for
his partner - in the shoulder. It didn't even hurt at first.

"Fuck," he muttered and moved again, knowing he had to do it _ now _, because
any minute, the pain was going to register and although he'd never been shot
before, he had a rather strong suspicion that it was going to hurt a whole
hell of a lot. He spun, flinging Henry towards the window, and using the
momentum to lunge at Grayson.

Henry went staggering toward the window, knowing he couldn't stop himself…But
by some extraordinary

(dare we say…miraculous?)

stroke of luck, the _ damn door was open _, and Henry went reeling out onto
the balcony. It wasn't the sham balcony it had first appeared to be - it was
longer, wider and railed with stone.

Henry hit the balustrade with a force that knocked the breath out of him.
Grasping the cold stone with both hands, he turned and looked back over his
shoulder. Framed by the windows, dimly lit, the room had an unreality about
it, like the set of a play. Chandler was down, and decidedly out; there was no
mistaking his twisted legs and head.

He had used the last of his strength to give his partner a chance of escape.
And not only his partner - Chandler's only hope for survival lay in Henry
being free to do something or get help. If he was caught, they were both
completely fucked.

The logic was clear and inescapable. Mr. Spock would have been proud of one
Chandler Sheldon Smythe.

The only problem was, Henry couldn't move.

It was stupid, it was illogical;

(sorry, Spock)

but for the moment, pure primitive instinct was far, far stronger than reason,
and it froze Henry in his place. He could _ not _ just run away and leave
Chandler.

Then Grayson rose from beside Chandler's body; and, with a strange choking
sound, born more of rage than of fear, Henry flexed his knees and jumped over
the edge of the balcony.

He landed with a thump and a grunt in a big yew, scratching his hands and face
and doing some damage to one ankle; but now that the decision had been made,
he no longer hesitated. Grayson ran out onto the balcony and Henry crawled,
under the shelter of the yew, toward the corner of the building. Before
Grayson could get over the balustrade, he broke free and ran toward the front
of the building.

Grayson reacted as he'd hoped. By going back through the building, he could
intercept Henry on the route he appeared to be taking - from the front of the
building to the gate. As soon as he disappeared back into the office, Henry
turned, heading for the truck.

The keys were not in it, and he had not expected them to be. His attempts at
hot wiring it were, however, unsuccessful, and he spent an indeterminate
amount of time sitting in the truck, chanting a low mantra of "fuck, fuck,
fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," and trying to figure out what to do.

It was something he'd done before - asses the situation, weigh the risks
against the gains, decide on a course of action, and follow it through. There
was, however, an element present now that had never been an issue for him
before.

Fear.

Real, true, piss-your-pants-and-then-droll-for-awhile _ terror _.

Because that was Chandler in there. _ Chandler _, his partner, his friend,
his…something else he wasn't entirely prepared to quantify right now. As much
as he wanted to go in like fuckin' gangbusters, he had to be sure of about
twenty-five hundred things that he couldn't possibly be sure of before he
would risk _ this _ particular expenditure of effort and perhaps life.

As it happened, the decision was made for him. He looked up to see Grayson
exiting the building with four or five other guys in suits - none of which
were his partner. Henry braced himself for fight or flight - not sure which -
but the flock of suits didn't come for him, they scattered, climbed into their
respective cars, and roared off into the night.

The stickler inside him - that little Decker that sat on his shoulder like a
pudgy Jiminy Cricket - told him that he should at least try to get some of
their plate numbers, but that imperative was relatively low-level compared to
the one that was tearing at Henry's heart - namely, "FIND CHANDLER."

Making a small effort at caution, he reentered the building the way they had
the first time, and headed directly for Dolly's Baby Dolls. There was a smell
in the air that he didn't particularly like, but couldn't - at the moment -
spare brain space to identify, so he pressed on, not daring to speculate on
what he'd find when he opened the door.

He found Chandler, lying on the floor. His hands were behind him; Henry
assumed that, like his ankles, his wrists were bound. The cloth covering the
lower half of his face was stained with red, and his eyes were closed. The
blood was fresh; a trickle of it still flowed from his nose. Dead men don't
bleed. A thriller title if there ever was one…part of Henry's mind roared with
slightly hysterical laughter.

"Chan!" His head rolled to one side as Henry's fingers worked at the gag.
"Chandler - talk to me, man. Say something, dammit!"

One eye appeared to be in the process of swelling shut. The other opened,
focused and brightened. He contemplated his partner for a moment with vague
satisfaction. "Henry…"

Henry grabbed Chandler's shirt in both fists. "Get up, man. Come on!"

Chandler didn't move. "Henry…what a way to go." His eye closed. His mouth
twitched in an attempt to smile. "They say you see a bright light. I didn't
the first time, and this is better anyway…Kiss me?"

Henry wanted to laugh, he wanted to yell, to screech with relief and terror.
"I can't…"

He could, though. Despite the fact that he was sick with fear and knew that
ever second counted, his lips found his partner's, and Chandler met them with
a hard pressure that denied pain and weakness, with the urgency of a man dying
of thirst, who had found water at last. For a moment, Henry forgot everything
but the fulfillment of his own need, too long denied; and it was Chandler who
finally broke away, his eyes widening in horrified awareness.

"Jesus," he gasped. "My God - it really is you. I thought I was…Get the hell
out of here, H! Christ, you don't - "

Henry took his partner's face in his hands. "Uh - no. I'm not leaving without
you. We go together or we don't go at all."

"But you don't understand," Chandler croaked. "This is what that asshole wants
- he set this up, you and me together, don't you - "

"I figured as much," Henry snapped, "but I still think we've got a chance. Now
get up."

"My ankles are tied."

"Oh." With an air of perfect detachment, Henry yanked his knife from the
goon's corpse, which was still in the corner, and cut the ropes that bound
Chandler's feet and hands.

"Now get _ up _. We've got to go, okay?" Henry was pulling Chandler along
after him, griping all the way, and he didn't hear the door open behind him.

"Well, well." /The grating voice of Grayson,/ Chandler thought. /Hey, that
almost rhymes./

Henry spun, lost his balance, and somehow found himself in Chandler's arms,
not quite sure who was supporting whom, but illogically reassured by the feel
of him.

"What have we here, fellows?" Grayson smirked.

"Cosy, aren't you two? Tsk, tsk, you should've left
him when you had the chance, Mr. McNeil. But I guess
you couldn't leave your mate to die, now could you?"

"You're really starting to piss me off, man." Henry
felt the blood spreading over the back of Chan's
jacket and shifted his grip to support the injured
man.

"I should just kill you both right now or ransom you
or something. But you know what? There's no fun in
that. You were playing so nicely for awhile and hell I
seriously thought about giving you two a kid
especially after I saw how goo-goo you two were over
each other."

"Cut the bullshit, Grayson. What're you gonna do with
us?" Chandler was angry. Angry because he was in pain
and in love and afraid they were both going to die
before he and Henry even had a chance to get started.

"Well, I'm going to let you partner play a game. And
the prize will be your lovely self of course." Grayson
smirked again, a habit which was really starting to
irritate the two agents. "Great, huh?"

"Fuck you," Chandler grated.

"What kinda game?" Henry spoke before Grayson got
really mad.

"I'll tuck your Mr. Smythe away somewhere in this
building and all you have to do is find him, assuming
you're still alive." He gestured over to McNeil's
kill. "You and I've got some business to settle."

"No way in hell, man. What do you think I'm stupid or
something? Besides, I ain't got shit to fight you
with."

Grayson shrugged. "We've got the whole building and
our bare hands. Come on, McNeil. How can you refuse?
Your partner doesn't look too good. He might even
bleed to death before it's over."

Ignoring Grayson, McNeil looked down into a pair of
worried blue eyes. Chan did look paler and from the
trembling in his chin, he knew his shoulder wound was
hurting badly.

"Don't, Hen, you can't trust him."

"What else am I gone do?" His heart lurched with a
painful warmth at the look on Chandler's face.

"Don't die," Chandler choked, fighting the burning
agony in his shoulder.

Henry held him a little tighter and looked deep into
his pain-filled blue eyes, promising him that and
more.

Chandler screamed as he was ripped away and a cruel
hand dug into his wound.

"Don't even think about it," Grayson warned as Henry
started towards Chandler and the Morlock that had him.

Henry locked eyes with Chandler. "Hang on, Chan. I'll
be coming for you."

Chandler nodded weakly and passed out.

Henry watched the Morlock carry Chandler's limp form
out the door.

"Well, what say we get down to business?" Grayson
suggested.