STANDARD DISCLAIMERS: They ain’t mine, and if their owner, Dick Wolf, knew what I was doing with ‘em, he’d probably have a coronary. No profits made, etc., etc., so hopefully he won’t sue me when he recovers. This takes place sometime in the future sometime before “Between the Sheets” and “Ties that Bind”. Actually, I had planned on sitting on this story till I got to this point in the Tam Lin series, but...I got impatient. It’s not quite just a silly PWP--this one does actually have a point. I wrote this after watching some close friends go through the hell of ‘going public’ with their relationship. It got me wondering about some of the obstacles Jack and Mike would face when they finally took that step--something which they’d obviously done by the time of BtS and TtB. This was the result. Send comments to trig@yahoo.com. I love feedback of all kinds--even the “Ewww, that’s gross!” kind. And just in case it hasn’t already been made abundantly clear, this is *slash*. So, we’re talking M/M NC-17 here. If that’s not your dish, turn back now! Last warning...OK, here we go! ****************************************** “Mirror, Mirror...” “So, then, of course, he asks me about my ‘alleged’ pro bono work, and I say ‘Dah-ling, you don’t know the half of it!’” Polite laughter rose obediently at the proper moment, the gathered listeners smiling appropriately over crystal champagne flutes. The centre of their attention smiled and fluttered graciously, accepting their accolades as her due. After all, as heiress to the Phips family fortune and current societal darling, Mrs. Eleonore Carlson-Phips was *meant* to be in the spotlight. Everyone had the good breeding to recognize that fact, and act accordingly. “Oh, Elly! You’re so bold! I can’t *believe* you’d speak to the Senator that way!” Eugenie Matthews tittered delicately, her cheeks flushed with a little too much Crystale champagne. Eleonore waved one ring-encumbered hand in graceful disdain. “The Senator is just a judge who saved up enough political IOU’s over his term on the bench. Hell, that’s how most of these good-ole-boys get where they are! Isn’t that right, Mr. McCoy?” She smiled charmingly at the man slouching against the wall to her right. Her smile faded slightly when dark, cold eyes rose to meet hers. “I’d hardly consider myself qualified to discuss the ‘good-ole-boys’ inner workings. Maybe you should ask your father--or your husband, for that matter.” With that, EADA McCoy pushed himself away from the wall and disappeared into the crowd. “Well!” Eugenie huffed. “What a crass man! No breeding at all!” Eleonore was tempted to agree, and say something scathing about never being able to scrub the dirt off a Mick, no matter how good his suit. But, she restrained herself tastefully, falling on a more accepted criticism. “Oh, you know how moody *those* kind are! So emotional! I suppose that’s why they make such excellent artists...and such poor politicians.” Snickers all around, much to Eleonore’s satisfaction. “Oh, but you should have seen the *dish* he brought with him. Absolutely scrumptious!” ‘Becca Cartwright fanned herself coquetishly with a porcelaine Tiffany saucer, sighing dramatically. “Oh, of course,” Eleonore winked knowingly. “Silly they may be, but they’re also very pretty. And, I’ll bet Mr. McCoy has a nice enough condo to land a lovely young thing, his personality notwithstanding.” Renewed giggles all around. Eleonore nodded graciously. * * * Jack moved sullenly through the crowd, no longer even bothering to excuse himself as he pushed his way through the expensively-coiffed political elite of Manhattan. He heard shrill giggles somewhere behind him, and had a suspicion that he was the cause. At another time, he might have found the antics of Mrs. Carlson-Phips and her well-heeled lapdogs amusing, perhaps even played along, if only for the thrill of watching New York’s finest society marms fall all over themselves trying to be clever. But, not tonight. He was certainly not in the mood for any of this crap tonight. And, quite frankly, he was tired of pretending otherwise. “Jack?” He turned at the familiar voice, but his frown didn’t fade as his assistant approached. ADA Ross looked, as usual, perfectly at home in the glitz surrounding them, her low-necked clinging black dress managing to look sexy and refined. “Geez, Jack! You look like someone just keyed your motorcycle.” Jack shrugged off her hand on his shoulder. “I’m going home.” Jamie stared at him in dismay. “What? But, you just got here less than an hour ago! God, Jack! At least for Adam’s sake--” “I’ve already paid my respects to Adam, OK? I went over there, I talked to him, I told him how thrilled I am about his son getting into Congress, and I think I even actually meant it. So, now I’m going home.” Jamie sighed irritably. “Jack, what the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been pissed off all week! And, what about Mike? You just gonna leave him here?” “Who the hell do you think I’m looking for? He’s probably just as desperate to get outta here as I am. Have you seen him?” She shrugged, conceding defeat. “I think the last time I saw him was in the dining rooms. Miranda Schiff was introducing him around...since you dumped him shortly after arriving.” Jack flinched slightly at that, realizing for the first time that he *had* taken off soon after their arrival at the Schiff penthouse, leaving his lover surrounded by the most ruthless bunch of thugs in New York--its aristocracy. “Shit. I did, didn’t I?” “Yes, you did. Apparently, he turned around and you were gone. Fortunately, Miranda recognized him a few minutes later. She’s been at his side ever since.” “Yeah, I’ll just bet.” The bitterness that had been nagging him all week returned in a dark wave. Quickly, he moved towards the dining rooms, ignoring his assistant’s hissed warning not to be an asshole. As he moved through the crowd, he let the sullen anger overtake him again, pushing the guilt aside. Thus, by the time he fought his way into the crowded dining hall, his glower was enough to move people out of his direct path. Immediately, he spotted his lover, towering a good three inches over everybody else, as usual. A familiar svelte blonde clung to his left arm. Miranda Schiff, Adam’s youngest daughter, had inherited her mother’s aristocratic good looks and her father’s brilliant mind. That combination had allowed her to rise to the top of her profession in investment banking, although she had only recently hit her thirty-fifth year. As he watched her laugh brightly at something Mike had said, Jack couldn’t help but notice how well she complimented his lover’s tall, dark beauty. The perfect balance of dark and pale elegance--like the heroic lovers in a nineteenth century gothic novel. He felt his throat close with a strange mix of anger and fear, and he had to take a moment to gather himself before he approached the pair. “Jack! There you are!” Miranda spotted him first, waving him over gracefully. “We’ve been looking for you.” Was it just his imagination, or did she put more emphasis on that “we” than strictly necessary? Bitch. “Where did you run off to, huh?” Mike smiled at him warmly, only a faint flicker in the hazel eyes showing his displeasure at being abandoned in a party he’d been dragged to against his will in the first place. He extended his hand, as he always did. Ever since they’d gone public with their relationship, it had become their habit to link hands--to hold on tight, regardless of what was going on around them. Jack had always loved the feel of Mike’s grip on his fingers in spite of the world swirling around them. Jack ignored the hand. “I’m going home.” The hazel eyes widened slightly at the taut emptiness of his tone, and Jack was not surprised when that familiar crease between Mike’s brows appeared. It always did when he was annoyed and trying not to show it. “I see. Am I invited?” Jack shrugged, and shot Miranda a bitter smile. “Up to you. Seems like you might be otherwise occupied, though.” And, with that, he spun on his heel and headed towards the coat room. He stalked through the crowd stonily, not daring to look back and see what his words had wrought. And it wasn’t fear of Mike’s anger that made him jostle people aside ruthlessly in his rush to leave the scene--rather, it was the sickening suspicion he had that if he turned around right now, all he’d see in those clear golden eyes was relief. He finally cleared the crowd, ignoring the occaisional glares, and entered a blissfully empty hallway. He paused for a moment, trying to re-orient himself in the sprawling penthouse. Was the front door down this way and to the left, or futher down? A heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and he nearly didn’t repress his flinch. Already recognizing the touch, he turned to glare up into Mike’s equally angry face. “Jack, what the hell are you--” “Let go.” Jack was good at modulating his voice to express exactly what he wanted it to. It was a skill he had perfected over 25 years in the courtroom, and it didn’t fail him this time. Mike withdrew his hand slowly at the black, empty tone. Darkening amber eyes pinned him in place as completely as the hand had, though. “What the hell is wrong with you, Jack?” Jamie’s same words--but spoken in a beloved throaty baritone with just the right mix of frustration and real concern to crack the surface of Jack’s bitterness...and he suddenly found himself fighting to speak around that familiar lump in his throat. “Nothing,” he sighed, suddenly exhausted. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, OK? I’ll leave you the car, I can probably grab a cab off the park--” The hallway was deserted, but Jack still shied away instinctively when strong arms sought to embrace him. Mike let out an explosive, exasperated sigh. Dark cognac eyes stared at Jack searchingly for a moment, and Jack knew from experience that he wasn’t going anywhere till they found what they were looking for. Except that he couldn’t afford to let that happen this time, for both their sakes. “Look, I’m fine. Really! I’m sorry I was a prick, it’s just this case that I...” He drifted off, realizing the futility of it all. He hadn’t been able to lie convincingly to Mike in years. He closed his eyes, refusing to meet his lover’s gaze when familiar fingers tipped his chin up gently. He waited, hoping desperately that Mike would recognize the danger and back off. “Talk to me, Jack. Please.” Jack bit his lip in frustration, still keeping his eyes tightly shut. Damn it! Why couldn’t Mike ever let things *be*?! “No...not here...” “Okay, then.” Suddenly, Jack felt strong hands close around his arms and drag him forward. He opened his eyes with a start, just in time to see himself be propelled through an open door. He turned to see Mike close the door behind them, leaving the empty hallway--and the party beyond--behind its oaken presence. “Mike! What are you doing?” He looked around, and was stunned to realized that they were in what looked like somebody’s bedroom. A female somebody’s bedroom, by the looks of the silken negligee on the satin coverlet. “Jesus. I think this is Miranda’s...Mike! We have to get out of here! She’ll *kill* us if she...” Mike grinned at him unrepentently as he dragged Jack through the bedroom determinedly. “You said ‘not here’, so I’m taking you somewhere else.” “**What?!** Are you nuts?!” Jack pulled frantically against Mike’s grip--he might as well have tried to move a concrete wall. “Christ, Mike! What if she--what if **Adam** finds us in here?!” “I’ll just say that I was looking for my cufflink,” Mike snickered. Jack glared at him, trying to convey how very serious this was, but to no avail. Soon, he found himself dragged out of the large, boudoir-like room and into a slightly smaller one. When Mike flicked on the lights along with a loud fan, he realised that they were in the adjoining bathroom...or, in this case, adjoining spa was perhaps more accurate a description. “Holy shit,” Jack breathed as he took in the shining expanse of marble, porcelaine, and glass. Smooth marble tiles covered the floor and walls completely, forming a background of creamy whorls. A huge whirlpool jacuzzi rested at the top of three stairs on one side of the large room, while a glass walled spiral shower filled the other. Giant panelled mirrors with gilt edges lined the walls in between. Mike chuckled into his hair as he pressed against his back, wrapping his arms around Jack’s torso. This time, Jack didn’t pull away, but rather leaned into the broad chest. “Yeah, Mir says that her bathroom is the main reason she puts up with living with her folks. She can’t find another condo in Manhattan with a full-size jacuzzi and custum-made wraparound mirrors.” Jack stiffened again in Mike’s arms at the easy way that the woman’s nickname rolled off his lover’s tongue. “‘Mir’, huh?” Jack found himself turned around rather roughly. The amber eyes were darkening again in hurt annoyance. “Don’t give me that, Jack. You know better than anyone what a crock of shit that is!” Jack winced, his own anger fading as he admitted that this was true. He buried his face in crook of Mike’s neck, taking hold of Mike’s hand and pressing an apologetic kiss into the palm. He closed his eyes miserably when the long fingers brushed his cheek with gentle acceptance. “Jack. Please. Tell me what’s bugging you. Whatever it is, it’s been eating at you for at least a week. I’ve been waiting, trying to give you room--but, this can’t go on. I won’t let you stay this unhappy.” Jack couldn’t resist a wry smile at that. How very Logan-esque. “You won’t, huh?” His attempt at distraction failed. Warm fingers cupped his chin, and he was trapped again in golden eyes. “Talk.” It was more a plea than a command. Jack looked away, resigned that he’d have to explain himself but uncertain where to begin. How to describe the collection of stray thoughts, niggling worries, and terrifying scenarios playing out in his mind near-constantly these days? The state of panicked dread that he walked around in? “It’s about our decision, right?” Jack blinked, and looked up into his lover’s face. It never ceased to amaze him how accurately Mike could read him. At times like this, when he could barely speak a word, he was infinitely glad for it. “Y...Yeah.” The beautiful eyes darkened in sorrow. “You regret it.” “No! I mean...” Jack bit his lip in frustration. He made his living out of words, for godsakes! One would think he’d be better at this! He shook himself roughly, reorganized his thoughts, and started over. “I’m *not* sorry, Mike. I love the fact that I no longer have to monitor every word that comes out of my mouth, just in case I let something slip. I love the fact that I no longer have to explain why I never bring a date to dumb parties like this. And, I *really* love the fact that my damned secretaries finally stopped flirting with you.” He smiled at Mike’s chuckle, but pressed on. “But, some things...some things are not so great...” Mike sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I know. But, we knew what it would be like. We discussed it, and we said we could live with it.” The warm fingers traced a path along Jack’s cheek, and he leaned instinctively into the touch. “It’s been harder than you thought. Are they making your life so hard at Hogan Place? I’d hoped Adam’s support would be enough to keep most of them off your back.” Jack rested tiredly against Mike’s warmth. Yeah, ‘they’ were doing their best to piss him off. Schiff’s support had shut up much of the public dissent following the revelation that his most senior EADA was in a homosexual relationship. But, some of his coworkers were very good at getting in their punches under the table, so to speak. Not surprising, considering that subtle snarkiness was practically a job requirement for a prosecutor these days. Jenna Kirkly, fellow EADA and closest to him in rank, had developed a sudden taste for fag jokes...which she always seemed to be telling just as he was entering the room. She’d shut up as soon as he entered, smiling sweetly. Bitch. And, then there was way in which some of his male subordinates twitched nervously in his presence--as if he’d suddenly, in a paroxysm of lust, leap at them and ravage them. Right. Talk about wishful thinking. He smiled despite himself. Even the youngest and pertest was nothing compared to the man in his arms. But, Jenna and her kin were in the minority, and for every flunky who snickered when he passed in the hall, there was another who nodded politely in passing. Jamie had, much to his surprise, been completely--almost scarily--accepting, even going so far as to teasingly ask Jack if he’d had ‘another run-in with New York’s finest’ whenever he stumbled in late. No, things had actually gone a lot smoother than he’d expected, and the rest he could handle easily. And, truth be told, he often gave as good as he got when he worked up enough annoyance to make the effort. That old bag Kirkly had a schnozz that just *begged* to be ridiculed, and Jack wasn’t above doing it. “That’s not the problem, Mike. Hell, I’m *used* to being the central focus of the Hogan Place gossip chain--and, it’s a helluva lot better to be the gay EADA than to be the lecherous dirty-old-man-no-woman-is-safe-from EADA. Much more PC.” Mike snickered. “I’ll bet.” He pressed a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “Then, what’s the problem?” Jack pressed silently into Mike’s embrace, trying to find a way to frame what he had to say in the way least likely to piss Mike off. “It’s not me that I’m worried about, Mike...” As expected, that earned him a hard glare. “We’ve covered this before, Jack. I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.” Jack let his gaze slide away from that golden stare. “I...I heard about Detective Jablowski.” Apparently, the bastard had decided to be cute by stuffing Mike’s desk full of “Playguy” magazines while he was off shift. Mike blinked. “Really? Wow, the speed of gossip in this city borders on the supernatural. But, Jack, that had less to do with him having a problem with me and more to do with the fact that he’s PO’d at Cragen for not giving him the overtime he claims he has coming to him. I’m just an easy target. Besides,” he snickered. “You should’ve seen how we got him back! See, Jefferson had this can of sparkle spray paint left over from New Years, so we went down to his car and--” “But, that’s not the point, dammit!” Jack snapped, suddenly as furious and terrified as he’d been when he first heard the news. “He wanted a victim, and he chose you. Like you said, you’ve become an easy target! This time, it was pornos in your desk--next time, it might be a gunbutt to the head. Or maybe your backup decides to go on a coffee break while you’re getting gunned down by whatever whacko happens to be tearing through this damned city that particular day! And, it’s gonna get worse and worse, until you finally decide--” He cut himself off sharply. “Until I finally decide...what? C’mon, Jack! To punch out another councilman? To quit the NYDP and open up a hair salon? To run away and join the circus?” Jack winced, then frantically tried to hide it. But, to no avail. Detective Logan had over fifteen years of experience in catching subtle cues in uncooperative witnesses, and even at his slickest Jack could rarely hide the truth from him. “You think I’m gonna take off!” Mike’s voice was hoarse with hurt and outrage, and Jack found himself suddenly unable to meet his lover’s eyes. “Why?” he breathed painfully. “Why do you think so little of me?” “No, baby! That’s not it!” Jack tried to move back into Mike’s arms, but was pushed away. “Please, Mike! It’s not like that...” “Then, what? What the hell is it like, Jack? Huh?” The chameleon eyes had hardened to an angry onyx. “What, after the hell that we’ve both already gone through, could convince you that *now* I’m gonna run away? That after I risked everything to come back to you, I’m gonna run as soon as people start calling me names?” “Because you will!” Jack cried, desperate and furious already at what he could see in the future. “You will--one of these days, you’re finally gonna come to your senses, and you’ll realise it’s not worth it, and you’ll leave me, and I won’t be able to say anything because you’ll be *right*, and I’ll know it, and it’s gonna kill me and I don’t know what I’m going to do....” Jack choked into silence, his eyes and throat suddenly on fire with unshed tears. He tried to turn away, to run out of this stupid marble and chrome wonderland and leave his pain behind in it. But, a strong grip held him in place even as Jack struggled furiously, trying to hide the wetness already beginning to seep out onto his cheek. “Dammit, Mike! Just let me go! Please...” “Answer me one thing first, Jack.” Mike’s voice was gritty with tears as well, but Jack lacked the courage to look up and check. “Do you really think it’s not worth it? You don’t think what we have is worth it?” “Not me,” Jack whispered brokenly, too tired to fight anymore. “You. It’s not worth it for you.” Silence, then Jack started as he suddenly found his head forced up to meet Mike’s reddened, wet eyes. Mike seemed momentarily unable to form words. “Jack..how could you...think...**why?!**” Jack shuddered, then braced himself to try to explain the obvious. “Mike. Look at me. Look at you. I was 48 on the day we met, and I’m well into my fifties now. You just had your fortieth birthday three weeks ago--and you look a helluva lot younger than that. I, on the other hand, look every bit my age. I also come with the excess baggage of an ex-wife who won’t let go, a daughter whose husband thinks we’re agents of Satan, and a sister who’d like to see your head on a spit. One of these days, it’s all going to dawn on you, Mike. That *this*...” he waved at himself disdainfully, “...is what you’re risking your life and deep-sixing your career for. And even that fine sense of duty won’t be enough.” Jack tried not to squirm under the weight of Mike’s gaze as the man examined him minutely for a long, long moment. Jack fixed his gaze on the creamy marble floor, and waited for the explosion. After several minutes of unnatural calm, Jack finally looked up tentatively, half expecting to find Mike gone. Instead, warm amber eyes were smiling at him gently. “I don’t see what’s so fucking amusing about any of this, Detective.” Jack snapped, miffed despite himself at being laughed at. Mike chuckled, then dragged him back into his embrace. Jack resisted stiffly, but to no avail. “You never cease to amaze me, Counselor. How can someone so brilliant be so bloody stupid? Shh. Relax...don’t get mad at me yet. Just...just watch. I’m going to show you something.” Jack blinked, his curiosity perking up even under these circumstances. He allowed himself to be pulled along as Mike moved, the other man still smiling faintly. Mike stopped him and turned him around--and Jack found himself face to face with their reflections in the large floor-to-ceiling three panelled mirrors that graced the alcove just before the jacuzzi. The custom-made, gilt-edged panels stood as an impressive testament to their owner’s wealth...and vanity. “Look at yourself, Jack.” He did. His shirt was irretrievably rumpled. His grey hair was sticking up in its characteristic disarray. The lines were clear along his face and neck and around his hawkish nose. His eyes were too small, weirdly slanted, and puffy with recent tears. Mike stood behind him, his tall muscular frame outlining Jack’s too-slight build. Silken hair--ebony in this light--shone like a beacon against Jack’s grey, with a few silver strands at the temples only accentuating its darkness. Smooth, flawless skin--with only a few faint lines around amber gold eyes. High, graceful cheekbones. A strong perfect chin that melted smoothly in a long, elegant neck. Michaelangelo couldn’t have done it better. Jack smiled bitterly into the silvered reflection. “I rest my case.” “Shh.” Mike pressed a kiss into his temple, then met and held his gaze in the glass. “Watch, Jack.” Jack sighed impatiently, then decided to play along for now as Mike pressed another wet kiss behind his earlobe. Then, another. By the time he felt the first of his shirt buttons fall apart, Jack was barely paying attention. He looked up into the glass, dismayed to find that his jacket had already been removed and tossed to one side along with his tie. He tried to be scandalized, but could only manage vague embarassment. “Mike! What are you...not here...we can’t...” Mike chuckled in mild exasperation. “I said to be quiet, Jack. Now, I know that’s a lot to ask of a lawyer, but I’m confident that you can do it if you try.” Another suckling kiss at the base of his neck melted Jack’s retort instantly. Finally resigning himself to his fate--and hoping distractedly that Mike had at least remembered to lock the door--Jack let himself fall against Mike’s frame behind him, standing docilely as long fingers made quick work of the shirt buttons. Eventually, the smooth fabric fell from his shoulders, chased along by warm, roving hands. He turned his head to try to capture Mike’s lips, but Mike avoided him neatly. “Uh uh, Jack. I told you to watch. Keep your eyes on the mirror.” Some of what his lover had in mind began to sink into Jack’s already clouding brain, and he couldn’t suppress an anticipatory smile. He had to give the man credit for creativity in his arguments. Jack watched as Mike carefully traced patterns on his chest from behind, the tantalizing heat of his touch muffled by the thin cotton undershirt. Thus, it was a relief when Mike finally pulled the fabric up and over his head. Jack gasped as whisper-sharp nails traced careful patterns along his now-bare chest, then snickered. Amused gold-green eyes met his again in the glass. “You starting to laugh on me already, Jack? Usually, you don’t get the giggles till we’re the little further along.” Jack grinned at their reflection, his previous unhappiness beginning to fade in the absurdity of what they were about to do. “I can’t believe we’re doing this here! There’s five senators, eight judges, the police commisioner, and the rest of New York’s glitterati about four rooms away...and here we are, making out in the DA’s daughter’s bathroom. I feel like I’m in a Copeland novel.” He gasped sharply again as skillfull fingers slid unerringly down the front of his dress pants. Mike chuckled into his neck, nibbling on the flesh even as he did. “Don’t worry about them. Just keep watching the glass.” Jack did, although it was getting harder and harder to focus as Mike continued his careful disrobing. Soon, Jack’s black dress pants were pooled at his feet, followed quickly by his boxers. He watched himself tremble slightly as Mike’s large hands slid across his now-naked hips, the stark white of his shirt contrasting sharply with Jack’s skin. Meanwhile, one black-clad leg slid between Jack’s, the wool of Mike’s pants tickling his inner thigh. Jack watched, mesmerized, as Mike slid fluidly into a crouch behind him, still maintaining as much contact between them as possible. He carefully guided Jack as he stepped out of the pants, stripping off his socks and shoes as he went. Once this task was completed, Mike slowly crawled back up Jack’s now completely bare body, leaving a trail of kisses up the back of Jack’s thigh, over the rounded hill of his buttock, and across his back right up to his neck again. Jack watched, shuddering at the feel of Mike’s clothes rubbing against his naked skin, interspersed with the wet pressure of his lips. It was a stunning vision that met Jack’s gaze in the mirror now. He stood, naked, with Mike’s fully clothed body framing his perfectly from behind, long white hands moving restlessly across the expanse of his skin. He had seen himself naked countless times in his life. He’d observed his body with indifference as a child, then with annoyance and despair as an adolescent when it refused to grow quickly enough. As a young man, he’d finally been satisfied that it wasn’t bad, if a little scrawny. After his fortieth birthday, he stopped looking. But, now...this was different. He’d *never* seen this body before. Jack watched, riveted, as his skin flushed slowly under Mike’s expert touch. Did his skin usually do that? He observed with a strange mixture of detachment and anticipation as Mike curled around him, letting his hands stray down from his chest to his belly, trailing along the path of faintly curling hair. An unmistakeable bulge, covered in smooth black wool, pressed against his hip as Mike moved sinuously along his body, tracing his abstract patterns carefully. Right before Jack’s fascinated stare, the sallow, pale tone of his skin deepened to a lush rose, the colour spreading first along his neck and shoulders, then continuing down along his chest and belly. His legs (too skinny, knobbly...) trembled very slightly, looking fine and slender against Mike’s heavily muscled, wool-encased ones. He watched the play of spare, elegant (elegant...?) muscles sliding and curving just beneath his skin, balancing and bulking in perfect harmony as he shifted against Mike’s ever-descending touch. His ribs moved subtly beneath Mike’s hands as he breathed in tandem with Mike’s slow caresses. Gold-green eyes watched his every tremor carefully from behind his left shoulder. An indescribable rush swept through him as he read the hunger in their depths easily. As Jack watched, one long hand moved up from his belly even as the other began to move tauntingly lower. The rising hand slid up his chest and neck to cup his head, skilled fingers tangling in his hair. Black and golden eyes met for a scalding moment in the pristine clarity of the glass, then Jack felt a tug in his hair. He closed his eyes tightly and followed blindly, tilting his head back, losing sight of himself for the first time since this all began. He closed his eyes and drowned in the dark warmth as Mike’s lush mouth descended on his, devouring him with an intensity that rendered him powerless. And, just as he began to slide into the velvet darkness of Mike’s mouth, that other hand--the one that he’d completely forgotten about by this point--finally slid across his hip and cupped his already-swelling testicles firmly. He arched spasmically, crying into the cavern of Mike’s mouth, letting the other man suck the air out of his lungs till he had none left to give. He nibbled and pressed into the plush lips as those heated fingers cupped him and traced his length painstakingly. Mike undulated against him, the fly of his now-bulging pants scraping against the sensitive skin of Jack’s ass, the smooth linen of his shirtsleeves scraping against Jack’s nipples deliciously as strong arms tightened around his chest. Eyes still shut tightly against the bright artificial light flooding the room, Jack rocked blindly into the squeezing grip around his cock. Just as quickly as he’d been taken, he was released, Mike’s fingers sliding free of his hair and moving to join his other hand in torturing Jack. Jack gasped, instinctively opening his eyes into the harsh light as Mike’s hands curled around his length and pulled teasingly. He caught a glimpse of the flickering motion in the clear glass before him, and turned to look--quickly becoming transfixed by what he saw there. His face...his face was *different*. Alien, yet strangely familiar. The same eyes--but, they seemed lit by some foxfire light from behind, glowing with a dark, moist depth he’d never seen before. His too-thin lips were swollen and reddened from the pressure of Mike’s mouth against his. And, where had he seen that smile before? Of course! His daughter...Rachel’s sweetly teasing smile that hadn’t dimmed since she first blazed it at her father over two decades ago. But, surely, Jack McCoy had never smiled that way in his life...had he? His gaze finally tore away from his own face as Mike curled and tugged teasingly at him. Jack watched even as he convulsed, fascinated by the whiplike tensing of muscles beneath his now-glistening skin, by the flickering movement of air down his throat as he gasped for breath. He stared at his own fully erect cock, gleaming wetly and flushed dark wine from root to tip. The head unfurled and bobbed between Mike’s fingers as he rocked into his lover’s grip. Muscles bulked and danced across his belly as he thrust. “Are you watching, Jack?” The hoarse whisper brushed against his earlobe, and Jack shifted his stunned gaze from himself to Mike. The eyes had brightened to that jungle jade colour that always heralded good things to come, and the lush lips were parted slightly as Mike panted against Jack’s cheek. The pale skin had become dusky pink, long lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks. The thick, previously neat hair had fallen into disarray, dark bangs falling across Mike’s high brow, tangling in his lashes. Lush, decadent, alluring--and completely focused on Jack. Jack stared at their reflections in the mirrors, watching as they panted and heaved together, Mike’s clothes providing a stark contrast to his bare flesh. It was too much...and yet he needed more. “Fuck me, Mike.” His voice was harsh, broken in passion. The verdant green eyes brightened with a predatory gleam, and Jack felt his insides melt at the raw hunger he read there. He had always watched this change overcome his lover with something akin to awe--watched Mike shed the veneer of civilization, transforming from one of its denizens into something far older, wilder. Now, for the first time, as he watched in the cool, impartial glass, he realized that the ancient feral beauty existed in both of them. They stared at each other, motionless, trapped for a moment in the power of what they saw in the glass. Then, just as quickly, the spell broke. Mike peeled himself away from Jack, and Jack couldn’t repress a groan of protest at the loss. But, Mike was too intent to pay heed just yet. Jack watched out of the corner of his eyes as he tore open cabinets and rummaged through their contents harshly. “Shit...she *must* have something....here...what the hell is ‘Vagisil’?” Jack laughed hoarsely. “Not lubricant. Keep looking. Hurry, baby!” “I’m trying! Stop *looking* at me that way...I can’t concentrate..Ow! What the hell does she have in here?!” Jack moaned through his laughter, bracing himself against the mirror, his hands flattening on its cool smooth surface even as he bucked invitingly at Mike. “Come *on*, Mike!” More rummaging. A few odd clatters. Finally, a relieved “hah!” echoed out of one of the cabinets. Mike approached behind him moments later, bearing a familiar looking tube, grinning fiercely. He had shed his shirt and his pants were unzipped, his long, flushed cock curling up over his belly from its nest of dark curls. “Wonder what DA Schiff would say if he knew that his baby girl had a tube of Astroglide under her sink?” Jack laughed, then broke into a soft cry as cool, slick fingers pressed into him. He sighed, slowly opening himself to their expert touch. His hips began to rock to that rhythm they knew so well, and he closed his eyes to better savour the sweet invasion of those talented fingers. “No, Jack.” A sharp nip at his earlobe brought him back. “Keep your eyes open. Watch me...watch yourself...watch...” Mike’s voice hitched as he pushed carefully into the impossible heat of Jack’s body. Jack opened his eyes--and was met head-on by a bright coal-black stare that he didn’t recognize as his own. His gaze shifted furiously between them both as Mike moved to sheath himself deep within him. The blazing, scalding pleasure, the rush of warmth as Mike’s body finally pressed flush against his back, the waves of stinging delight rippling through him as Mike moved--they all became a background tapestry of sensation to the sight of their coupling in the glass. It was surreal, and yet it was so effortless. Jack watched as they moved together flawlessly, falling into their mutual rhythm instinctively. Mike’s fingers dug into his hips, whitening with pressure at the tips. Mike’s broad shoulders heaved and mantled possesively over his. Even their breathing fell into step together, echoing off the tiled walls in tandem. And, when fierce green eyes latched with his in the mirror, Jack finally understood. Even as his heart soared, it was too much. He felt himself near the precipice, then shatter with a soft cry. Even as he peaked, he kept his eyes focused on the mirror, the image melting and swirling for a moment as he burst. He could see the effect that his orgasm had on Mike clearly in the glass, watching the flushed, heated face tighten as his internal contractions bore down around Mike’s thrusting invasion. He squeezed again once he regained motor control, rotating his hips as he did in a manouvre that never failed. True to form, Mike gasped and convulsed, the beautiful face contorting into a grimace of near-pain for the long, long second that it took for Mike to empty himself into Jack’s still-panting body. Mike collapsed against him as he broke, Jack catching his greater weight with practiced ease. He watched for signs of life in the still, pale face resting now against his shoulder, balancing Mike’s bulk on his slight frame. He stared deeply into the now-fogging glass, memorizing the surreal, blurred image of them together, bodies linked, Mike’s powerful frame supported by his slender, yet steady legs. He caught a glimpse of an elfin smile through the rapidly clouding glass before the heat of their lovemaking blurred out the last of the image, cutting him off from the world beyond its surface again. He let himself sag slowly onto the now-warm surface of the mirror as he felt Mike stirring against him. Carefully, he lowered them both to their knees, smiling as he felt Mike nuzzle wetly against his neck. “You OK, baby?” “Mmh...mh hmm...” Jack sighed shudderingly as he felt Mike slip out of him, then strong arms pulled him back against Mike’s still heaving chest. Exquisitely gentle kisses rained upon him, landing on his forehead, his eyelids, his lips...everywhere. He lay replete and limp in Mike’s embrace a moment longer, enjoying the heady blanket of serenity that had fallen on them as long as possible before breaking the silence. “I think...I think I saw what you wanted to show me.” Amber eyes smiled down at him, and Jack could see everything in their golden swirl. “Did you? Did you see yourself? Us? How perfectly we fit together?” Jack grinned up at him, and suspected by the fractional increase in the warmth in those eyes that he’d just smiled that Rachel smile again. “Yeah. I saw us. This really is the ‘real thing’, isn’t it?” he asked, more than a little awed. “Yeah. I think it is.” Their voices were hushed, nearly reverent. Then, Jack sighed as reality slowly began to press through the foggy mists surrounding them. “It still scares me, Mike. At worst, I have to endure corny fag jokes from my coworkers and lose out on a political career I never wanted. But, this could really get you hurt.” Mike smiled sadly. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll get hurt tomorrow on the job on some routine bust that has nothing to do with who I’m sleeping with--just like any other cop.” He sighed, realizing by the look on Jack’s face that this wasn’t exactly helping. “Look, let me tell you about a case I had a few years ago. You might remember it. Cop gunned down after stumbling across a drug transaction. Officer Newhouse. His backup didn’t come--” “--because they knew he was gay. I remember that case alright, and it exactly proves my point, Mike--” “Maybe. But, you know what *really* killed me about that case? Here was this guy who’d gone to a helluva lot of trouble to make sure that nobody knew his dirty little secret, from his parents doing to his fellow officers. It worked at first--until somehow, somewhere, someone got an inkling. From then on, he was ruined. Kicked off the precinct boxing team, all sorts of demerits on a previously perfect record. And, all his efforts were for nothing, and he was all alone. Except that the crazy thing is that he didn’t have to be--turns out his partner was gay, too. They could have helped each other, supported each other--hell, even watched each other’s backs. But, they didn’t. They never even admitted the truth to *each other*...even though they, along with everybody else at that damned precinct, knew the score. “That’s what really got to me, Jack. These two guys, both in the same boat but too scared to even seek help in each other. I’d been seeing Ben for about three years by then, and I’d never said a word about it to anyone but Liz. Neither Max nor Phil ever knew. I’d go on playing the playboy, blabbing on about this girl and that, hoping to God that they wouldn’t see beyond that. And, these guys were my best friends, Jack. That’s how scared I was. And, sometimes, I thought the isolation would kill me. But, when this thing with Newhouse came along, and I saw the futility of it all...I decided right there that I wouldn’t make the same mistake of letting my own fear turn me into a prisoner in my own life. Lennie and I had been partnered for nearly a year by then, and we’d become really good friends. So, I took the risk and told him about Ben and I. It took me nearly three weeks to work up the courage, and I made him sit in a pool hall for over four hours till I got the words out. But, when I did...” Mike sighed, and smiled at the memory. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt relief like that. He took it in stride--and even as he cautioned me to keep it to myself if I could, I could feel something relaxing inside me for the first time in three years. From then on, I made a point of telling my closest friends, the ones I felt I could trust...Claire, Donnie, Marie. God, it felt so good! And when Ben left me, they were there for me. “And now, I’ve finally gotten to the point where I can take on the rest of the world. Let them know! Let them hate me for it if they want. At least, I’ve finally stopped hiding, and there’s not a damned thing that can make me go back to that. Every morning that I wake up with you next to me. Every time you take my hand without first looking around to see if anyone is looking. Every time my friends at work ask me how you’re doing, or what we’re doing for the long week-end...I think about Officer Newhouse, and I know I made the right choice.” Jack looked up into Mike’s sweat-slicked, still-flushed face, taking in the familiar almost-smile that he loved so, and couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Since when did you get so damned wise, Detective?” Mike grinned ingenously. “Well, it all started when I picked up this guy off the street. Nice ass, great mouth-- very good in the shower.” “Mmm. Well, we don’t exactly have that luxury right now, tempting as that jacuzzi may be. I still can’t believe you dragged me in here and screwed me tipsy just to make a point. If Adam finds out...oh, Jesus! Look at this mess!” Mike laughed at his lover’s distress. “Relax, Jack. I think I saw some Windex under the sink. That ought to get those suspicious streaks out of the glass...” * * * Elly Phips was tired--and, similar to any overtired child, that made her grumpy--the fact that she was well into her forties aside. Her husband was still up there somewhere in Adam Schiff’s rather pedestrian quarters, talking to whichever sycophantic up-and-comers were willing to listen to the old windbag. And here she stood, in this mediocre ‘lobby’, waiting for her car alone (well, not exactly alone--there were two porters at the desk in the lobby, as well as a doorman--but, one wasn’t expected to count *them*, surely). Where *was* the driver, anyways? That stupid Marco--really, one couldn’t entrust those Latin types to do *anything* on time! She’d *warned* Edwin that this would be a problem when they hired the man... Her dark thoughts were interrupted by laughter. Male, at least two--one high and throaty, the other a deeper baritone. She glanced behind her at the elevator, but it was the stairwell that opened. For heavens sake! People taking the *stairs*, of all things! Simply ridiculous. Her mouth only tightened further when she saw who spilled out of the stairwell and into the lobby. It was that evil-tempered Mr.McCoy and his little friend. Well...not exactly little, she reflected to herself. Tall, broad shouldered. Probably of the big and dumb variety. No doubt, he suited Mr. McCoy’s less cerebral needs just fine, though. She turned her sneer into a polite smile with practiced ease as they approached. “Mrs. Phips!” Mr. McCoy surprised her by grinning charmingly. The man certainly could smile when he so chose. “Your husband mentioned that you were feeling unwell and left early. Are you alright?” Elly couldn’t suppress a slight flush at his solicitude. Well, this was certainly more like it! She’d heard what a charming man Mr. McCoy was, and had thus been rather stunned at his earlier behaviour. “Just a touch of a headache, Mr. McCoy. Nothing serious. I’m so very sensitive to household dust--I have our own rooms in the city aerated every time we stay there.” She smiled demurely. “I’m used to somewhat larger quarters, I’m afraid.” That earned her a laugh from Mr. McCoy’s companion, and she turned to him for the first time since she had seen the man enter the Schiff home hours earlier. Oh, my. Her estimation of Mr. McCoy’s taste increased several notches. A little older than she’d expected, but those lovely eyes probably made up for it. She extended a gloved hand. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced...” she breathed sultrily. She was very good at sultry-- had been ever since she was first presented in society. “Elly Phips...” The younger man seemed to suppress another laugh before taking her hand firmly. “Mike Logan. Pleased ta meetcha.” Elly barely repressed a wince. Pretty perhaps, but obviously little else. It seemed that Mr. McCoy, regardless of his...excentricities, was similar to normal men in that he preferred his toys dim and uncomplicated. “Charmed, I’m sure.” Mr. McCoy’s eyes seemed to gleam for a moment in the bright light of the lobby, almost as if he was about to burst into laughter himself. Instead, he flashed her another megawatt grin. “Well, Mrs. Phips, it was a great pleasure to meet you--I hope we meet again soon so that we can hear more about your...pro bono work.” Elly smiled coyly. “Of course! It would be my pleasure. Till then?” She extended her hand, which he held aloft politely. Then, they moved towards the front door, speaking softly to each other and linking hands as they went. Elly heard a sniff from one of the desk men, but the porter merely held aloft the door and smiled politely, with a muffled “Good eves, sirs.” The door hadn’t quite closed behind them when laughter flooded into the lobby again. The other man’s voice--Logan?--echoed back. “Jack! I’m missing one of my cufflinks!” The End. (April 1998) Dedicated to Dave and Jer, who faced off with obnoxious ex’s, indifferent bosses, snide coworkers, and general daily hostility all in the name of love--and won! You inspire me again and again...