Apologies
by Te
2/99

Disclaimers: Not mine, just playing, don't hurt 
me.

Spoilers: Not a one.

Summary: Thoughts, discussion...

Ratings Note: PG-13 - Mild R.

Author's Note: Direct follow-up to "Protection," and
"All Right." Takes place about a week and a half after
the end of "All Right."

Acknowledgments: To Dawn Sharon for fine 
audiencing.

thete1@earthlink.net

******

Mac started to settle in for a good pout. A really 
severe one that would allow him to look wounded 
and smug all at once. 

He was, of course, perfectly justified. 

For the seven hundred forty-third time, the others
had put their trust in someone Mac had known 
*full* well was dirty to the core. 

For the seven hundred forty-third time, that trust 
had almost gotten them all rather dead. It was 
always easier to swallow the utter lack of respect 
after a nice round of apologies.

Especially since they always made him believe it 
would never happen again. 

He turned to Li Ann, who was glaring mildly at the
bootprint on her forearm that would almost 
certainly bruise nastily. "There, there. I know how 
hard it must be to understand how a woman who 
spent her entirely *life* taking in helpless children, 
a woman who did her *all* to protect them from 
the nasty people who'd try to keep them from 
committing crime, a woman like Susan *Lee* could 
go so terribly wrong."

Her shoulder twitched. Not a punch -- he wouldn't 
have seen that coming -- just the act of 
*restraining* a punch. She really was sorry. 

"Look, there were no arrest records, she'd made all
those kids join 4-H, too, there was no way to --"

She cut herself off and frowned, and Mac decided to 
believe it had nothing to do with the way he felt his 
mouth twist. Ms. Lee had been yet another part of 
Mac's past, but that hadn't counted for a thing.

"Mac, I... I know I should have trusted you."

He bit back the response and made a point of just
looking more smug, staring until Li Ann snorted 
silently and returned to her wound perusal. 

He opened his mouth to lay into Vic a little, but 
when he turned the other man was already staring 
at him. 

Like he was an alien.

Suddenly, it didn't seem like an especially good 
idea to lay on the guilt trip Victor Mansfield so 
richly deserved. It might have been a bad idea 
not to apologize for kissing him the other night.

"I'm just going to take your heartfelt apology as
a given, Vic. I know how hard it is for you to open 
up."

Vic just shook his head and stared down at the 
lacquered surface of the table, scratching at his 
reflection. Mac continued to look at him, but the 
only thing he got for it was an excellent view of 
the other man's profile.  

Mac sighed and sank back in his chair, game over,
results inconclusive. It certainly wasn't much fun
if Vic wasn't going to play to type. 

And he had no illusions whatsoever about the 
Director doing anything but turn the whole case 
around to make it seem as though it was a 
masterwork of her own orchestration. Well, it was 
possible, he supposed. Certainly more possible 
than getting an apology out of *her*. 

Mac slipped on his sunglasses and tried to make
the vague blue tinge soften the postmodern 
nightmare of the conference room. Being here 
always made him feel like buying more pillows 
for his apartment. Something to put a little 
softness in his life, at least.

But they wouldn't really go with the rest of the 
decor, and Mac didn't want anything else his boss
could throw at him as proof of how he was owned.... 

There were many times he wondered how he'd 
wound up here, wondered what the point was of... 
of *breaking* them, or trying to. But wondering 
things like that always made him drift off with a 
little frown and then --

Burst of pain in his chest and a lot of his air was 
gone. The Director had used the neatly bound file 
as a table hockey puck. 

"Pay attention."

Her voice was clipped, contemptuous... sometimes 
Mac was tempted to just push the woman until 
she finally just shot him. He settled for sketching 
a vague salute and opening up his latest journey 
into the realm of the criminally absurd. 

Prep School Pushers.

Loafers and LSD.

Mercedes' and Meth.

Wonderful.  

If everything went as expected, there would be 
painfully hideous rep ties and annoying little 
rich kids looking down their surgically-altered 
noses at him *imminently*.

He sincerely hoped they would have to kill a few
of them. The Director seemed to have some sort
of penchant for adopting troublesome children 
only to inflict them on the team later... Hmmm.

"Isn't this more Jackie's speed?"

"Like, what*ever*. I wouldn't be caught *dead* in
khakis. Shhhyah."

Mac shuddered minutely. Jackie was smart, 
competent, good in bed, and terrifying. Absolutely 
terrifying. Speak of the Pink Devil and she flounces
in and makes herself at home. Late. Perhaps 
predictably, the Director didn't shoot a file folder 
at *her* chest. 

Then again, it would probably just bounce back 
and smack her. 

There was hardly any snicker to repress at that 
thought, and Mac sighed internally. Not only did 
Jackie make Mac feel old, she made him *like* it. 

He turned his attention to Vic again, wondering 
if he was unwittingly empathizing with him. If 
so.... Well, it would be wrong to let an opportunity
like that pass by.

But the other man was just asking the 
questions, looking professional, not allowing Mac 
to catch his eye... Dammit. 

He felt himself getting genuinely pissed that Vic 
was ignoring him. He'd sucked Mac's *tongue*.
Never mind that Mac had shoved it down his 
throat in the first place; a world where 
tongue-sucking didn't count for anything wasn't 
a world he was happy to be in --

He caught himself with a jerk that made Li Ann
 eye him narrowly. He'd started out telling himself 
to stay away, yet had barely managed to avoid 
pouncing on Vic. He *hadn't* avoided it, in point 
of fact. He'd managed to get the hell out, though, 
and that had to count for something. 

Or it would if he wasn't sitting here plotting 
how to make *sure* the other man would 
want him, need him... 

The worst of it was that, while he knew he was
fucking up, he couldn't quite pull up the reasons 
why. It was fuzzy, vague, lost behind the absolute 
reality of a small mouth begging for his attention 
and all that solid Vic heat he wanted to feel while 
they were naked and hard and --

He caught the Director's movement out of the 
corner of his eye and snapped back to attention, 
sincerely hoping some part of his mind had filed 
away her instructions for later examination. Or 
that Li Ann would take pity on him. 

The rest of the meeting passed quickly, with only 
one more thwap. It wasn't that Mac wasn't paying 
attention, per se, but no one else seemed to be able 
to see the never-ending porno on the inside of his 
sunglasses. A rush of corrupted images and 
sensations, liberally dosed with the reality of that 
kiss he'd stolen... He wanted more. 

"Dismissed."

Thank Christ. 

Li Ann walked out, the Director tugged Jackie up 
the stairs with her, seemingly by force of will, but 
before Vic could leave Mac shot his hand out and 
grabbed him by the wrist.

Vic tensed under his hand, staring at it and 
frowning.

"Can we talk for a minute, Vic?"

"What the hell do you want?"

The anger shocked him, made him squeeze harder 
than he intended. Vic shook him off and starting 
walking for the door. 

"Jesus, I just want to talk."

"I don't."

"Fine, then can I apologize?"

Vic froze in the doorframe, and Mac had that 
pleasant 'just-caught-the-one-root-between-me-
and-road-pizzaness' feeling. He stood and moved to
within a few feet of the other man.

"I'm sorry, Vic. I didn't mean --"

Vic turned and cut him off by the simple expedient 
of devouring the space between them. "Didn't mean
what? To kiss me?"

Mac was too busy trying not to get turned on by the
dark flashes of anger in the other man's eyes to 
come up with an immediate response. In the end, 
the best he could come up with was, "do you want 
me to be sorry?"

The words made the other man recoil, a painful sight
mildly alleviated by the flash of speculation Mac had
never failed to gain from...

Jesus. Mac tried to shake the haze away, go back to 
something like his original plan. 

"Vic, please, I'm sorry. You don't want to talk about
this, we can forget --"

"Tell me what you're sorry for, Mac. What did you 
do -- what did I do -- that caused you honest regret?"

"I just wanted... Fuck. I didn't want to *seduce* you. I 
was just there because I thought..." Vic was offering 
no help whatsoever. Just standing there, eyes 
shuttered with only anger. A *mild* anger. An anger 
at someone perhaps not worth the effort of more.

"So you're sorry you kissed me?" Vic's voice was quiet,
but resonant. Honest was probably the best plan.

"Yes and no --"

"Christ, Mac --" The other man cut himself off, seemed
perched on the edge of some extravagance of dismissal
but couldn't quite get the muscles of his body to 
release for it. Finally, he crossed his arms over his 
chest and stood away from Mac, head bent and 
radiating tension.

Part of him wanted to give the man room, the rest 
wanted to see what kind of pain it would be to touch
all that bound energy.... He took a step closer, but 
Vic spoke.

"Why did you leave me li -- why did you leave?"

Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

"Vic, I'm --"

"Don't. Just don't apologize again, all right? Answer
the question."

Mac bit back the 'yes, sir, officer, sir,' pleased and 
worried that it wasn't a difficult thing to do. "I left 
because I didn't think I could stop myself from..." 

He'd let himself trail off, but Vic's whole posture 
screamed of the necessity for detail.

Another few moments of awkward silence and Mac 
could feel every eye in the creepy little complex 
focus on him from their hidey holes and cleverly 
recessed alcoves and they were all waiting for the 
joke. On. Him.

Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.

"Vic, I want you. I want to... Christ, the things I want
to do to you, to have you do to me... But it's just sex, 
and I had no business trying to get you into my bed, 
and you said my name...."

Vic shuddered and that was about all Mac could take.

"Look. You don't have to worry about it again, all 
right? Whether you want to hear it again or not, I'm 
*sorry*."

Mac waited for a response that didn't come, and, 
when his head stopped pounding so much, walked 
out.

~~~~
End.
~~~~