Protection
by Te
2/99

Disclaimers: If they were mine... well, I don't know if 
I *could* make this show slashier.

Spoilers: Vague references to True Blue, The Art of 
Death, Li Ann Breakup Ep, Last Temptation of Vic, 
Knives Ep... Be kind, I have the will but not the tapes. 

Ratings Note: R for language, implied m/m.

Summary: Mac does some thinking.

Author's Note: Hey, look what I found! Don't you just
love spring cleaning? This has no relation to Music. 

Acknowledgments: To Ladonna and Dawn Sharon for 
fine audiencing, and more thanks to Ladonna for the
thoughtful beta she did on this thing more than a 
year ago... <snerk>

thete1@earthlink.net

******

Anything held dearly can hurt you. 

It's one of the first things any gunman is taught -- 
their greatest friends are, at base, deadly weapons. 
From the literal smooth, hard metal at their sides 
to the figurative brothers and sisters...

I've always wondered whether it was easier to teach 
the lesson in the days when guns were still a rarity. 
All you had to do was turn the blade in the student's 
fist and -- *slice*, the point is made. Guns had to 
have made everything easier *but* the learning 
process. 

Any idiot with decent vision and steady hands can 
learn to fire a gun -- quickly. 

But most of them die looking so fucking 
*surprised*...

A good assassin, a good *anything* involving a 
weapon has to understand that death will come. And 
that it could happen with nothing more spectacular 
than the comforting weight at his hip. 

And, if death *does* come that way, it'll be because 
the comfort *lulled* them. 

When I first met Vic, I could have sworn I knew him. 
Just another guy waiting to get old enough to excuse 
being as tight-assed and conservative as he's always 
been anyway. In the meantime, he had the earring, 
and the leather, and the smart-assed remarks, so 
no one should pay any attention to his basic... 
Vicness. 

It was so fucking obvious that Li Ann was using him 
to claw herself into a bright new life. And it stung 
that she wouldn't admit it. That she decided to be 
Vic's lover -- Vic's *partner* -- over me and stayed 
that way until *I* apparently convinced her that 
commitment was wrong.

God, what a pretty piece of work that was. Break up 
with Vic *and* insult me. And then go play Director's 
pet. Jesus, no one manipulates better. No one can 
make you fall in love like Li Ann can -- it's why she's 
always the one on the inside. I'll love her forever, but 
sometimes I wonder if she appreciates that as more 
than just another sign of a job well done. 

Sometimes I wish I was more like her.

It wasn't a surprise to see Vic mourn Li Ann, but even
at the time I couldn't really see him as just another 
surprised idiot. I resisted the urge to tell him to suck 
it up, but I also wasn't very good about comforting 
him. I got him drunk and took him home. If it was 
Li Ann, there would've been heartfelt talks, hugs... at 
least a meaningful handclasp or two.

And Vic needed that, oh, I could see he needed that. 
If I could've given it... well, if I was built for that I 
think my life would've been different.

But I've watched him over the months. Yes, he *is* 
an idiot when it comes to people. Show him a boo boo
and he's going to try to fix it. Tell him you need him 
and watch him melt. And he gets kicked in the face 
*every* time for it, but I've yet to see him lash out.

Which just moved him from Idiot to Sappy Idiot in 
my eyes. And then, as it kept happening and Vic 
kept leaving himself open for it... well, I didn't see it 
at first, I admit. But there were little things.

Learning about his family. 

Watching him cave to all that need to the point of 
trying to be a criminal.

But watching him watch McCoy Matsumoto... that has to 
be what first made things *really* start to make 
sense. Vic barely blinked as McCoy systematically 
broke the suspect into groveling little pieces. Fuck, he
had his palms pressed to the glass like a fucking 
greedy *kid*. He ate it up. I swear to Christ he was 
turned on. 

And the knives...

It's tempting to tell yourself you're imagining 
things. Certainly when you know everyone *else* will 
tell you that. Vic is the normal one. He was never 
*really* a criminal, he's never hurt anyone on 
purpose, he's *nice*...

Everyone loves him, even though they can walk 
right over him. Maybe because they can. 

It isn't that I think he *wants* to be different than 
he is. No, Victor knows precisely how to become 
whoever he wishes to be. And that's the point -- 
he *has*.

He walked out of his home, willfully cut himself off 
from a family that wasn't, and remade himself into 
the sort of person everyone should be. The first two 
of those... I'd be a hypocrite if I said I didn't 
understand them perfectly. The last is familiar, but 
it took me a long time to understand how anyone 
with the kind of shit life we've had could make 
themselves *more* vulnerable.

But Vic did. 

Every stray cat, every lost cause... hell, even his 
*musical taste* is determinedly vulnerable. Obscure, 
ancient... a throwback to a sweeter past he knows full
well never existed. But I know he'd just raise his chin 
and defy me to make him admit it. 

I know why he did it, too. If he couldn't believe his 
prick of a father was the alien, then what was the 
point? It scares me to think of it, but he's heading 
for a fall. And when he breaks he just might take all
of us with him. 

I remember standing there with him at that glass, 
pleading with him to believe me about McCoy... It 
wasn't that I was surprised he didn't believe me -- I 
hadn't exactly given him much cause to trust me at 
that point, after all.. What got me was that hunger. 
That want.

I've never seen him look that way at anyone, even 
when he was seeing Li Ann. Not physical lust so 
much as a lust for being. He saw that sonofabitch
being himself and *remembered*. Vic knows exactly
what it would feel like to lose the lion's share of 
that compassion. How *easy* things could be...

Because he knows what it was like to gain it in the 
first place. 

I look at him, and I wonder what he would've 
become if his favorite little capo hadn't tried to 
betray him. Those people listened to him, trusted 
him, touched him and acted like they loved him... 
right when we were doing anything but. All they 
asked for was a gun, and Vic could certainly 
provide that.

Certainly in return for all that raw *family*. 

But of course he was kicked in the teeth again and
he returned to us, slightly better than nothing as 
we are. 

And he's still here with us. So fucking sweet.

I want him. I want that soft skin against mine, I 
want that husky voice yelling my name, I want his
cock in my mouth. He's beautiful. Peel him out of 
those clothes and he's just a man. And I can make 
him trust me, I know it.

Because he wants to, just on general principle. And 
if he's finally done with being a good boy... well then
I could be broken, too. I know myself well enough, I 
know I can live with that fucked-up and violent side
of him just fine. 

I know how many nights I've spent fantasizing 
about just that. 

But I really just want to give him something we both
need and not take it away. I want to see if he 
eventually starts to wince because he knows the other
shoe has to drop. How long was he seeing Li Ann? Maybe
the day after our two year anniversary he'll look at me 
expectantly. Open his arms, expose his belly for the 
blow. 

I want to see if I can refuse. 

He has to break some time, and I want to think it'll 
be something that mundane. Something he can be led 
away from, if I can be that good for a fucking change. 
I can touch him now... I know him. Vic needs someone 
he can believe he's taking care of and I swear to God 
I'm ready to let him. 

Someone has to, right? I'll just be doing my duty, 
thank you very much, please don't pin the medals too 
hard I'm something of a bleeder. 

But I don't think he'll lose it that... nicely. He's never 
had the chance to be with someone who *really* 
wanted the full Vic treatment. There's no way Li Ann 
would've let him let loose with *all* the romance in 
his carefully crafted soul. Not all the time, anyway. 

What happens when he finds out I'm still just Mac? 
What happens if he keeps his careful standards but
finds out I can't live up to them?

Or what happens if he someday gets left alone with 
some piece of human slime that gives him an excuse? 

What happens when he, God help us all, stops trying 
to convince all of us that there's something better out 
there than what we are?

Than what he is?

Don't get me wrong -- he's already better for even 
trying. At least, that's what he's made me want to 
believe. But... it's not enough. 

I want him, and I think I might love him, but I want 
to tear down his armor, now that I know it's there, 
and I want to make him feel way down deep, and I 
want to see him turn that darkness on me, even 
though I know it would hurt him.

And that makes me wonder if I really love him at all.

It's too much. I want him, and I want to leave it at 
that. But if I did, there'd be nothing to stop me 
from getting right down on my knees the next time 
we're alone and pushing my face into his crotch until
he had to let me suck him.

The Vic he's struggled so hard to be wouldn't let 
himself run away, even if he really wanted to. Not if I
could hold his eyes while I had him in my mouth for at
least a little while. And then... and then what?

It certainly wouldn't be the first time I've been the 
last straw.

And I'm afraid that wanting to avoid that 
won't be enough to keep me away for much longer.

~~~~
End. 
~~~~