POI Fanfic: Crossing Over Part 2
Crossing Over - Part 2
Explicit
***
Even sitting absolutely still, the Man in the Suit looked dangerous.
Donnelly stopped in front of him, six feet in front of the bench, and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “John?”
The Man flinched at his name, but didn’t more.
“I was wrong about you,” Donnelly continued after a moment. “And I’m sorry.”
John sighed heavily. Then he sat up slowly and glared at him. Reese, Donnelly suddenly knew. That wasn’t his name, but that was what he called himself. John Reese.
It seemed stupid , that having that name meant so much to Donnelly now.
“You’re sorry?” Reese snarled, incredulous. “You’re sorry?”
Donnelly brought his hands out, held them open in front of him. “I didn’t know …”
“You’re fucking sorry?” Reese screamed. He came off the bench and threw a roundhouse punch in the same fluid motion. His fist caught Donnelly on the side of his jaw and knocked him sideways. He staggered, but managed to stay up. Reese was on him before he recovered. The Man grabbed him by his jacket, held tight with one hand and hit him three more times with the other before he managed to back away.
As he tried to retreat, Reese grabbed his wrist and twisted it, hard. With his free hand this time he worked Donnelly’s body, first the ribs, then the kidneys.
None of it hurt, not even when Donnelly felt the blood dripping down his chin. Not even when he heard his wrist snap, when he felt his shoulder jerk out of its socket.
He couldn’t stop himself from swinging back anyhow, with the arm that still worked. He got in one good jab, connected squarely with Reese’s sculpted jaw, snapped his head back. But the man barely flinched. He turned, his eyes blazing with rage, and came at him again.
The third time he closed on Donnelly, the Man got his arm around his neck and choked him.
Donnelly pounded Reese’s ribs as hard as he could until the world went black.
And then he was standing six feet away again. The blood was gone. His suit was clean.
Reese pause, startled. His glared grew ever more ferocious. Then he charged again. This time he threw Donnelly down and fell on him. They wrestled for a minute on the grass, and then he was choking him out again, this time with both hands.
Again the world went black, and again it reset itself.
“Who are you?” Reese demanded, furious.
“I’m dead,” Donnelly said.
“You’re not dead enough.” The Man came at him again.
Donnelly threw an uppercut that got through mostly by chance, caught the Man full on the jaw, and dropped him.
John rolled to his feet, his hands in fists just in front of his hips, ready to fend off the next attack.
Donnelly raised his hands again. “We can do this all day, John. I’m willing, if it will help you somehow. But you can’t hurt me. I’m already dead.”
The Man froze. His eyes filled with furious tears. His whole body shook with rage.
Donnelly wished himself into a clean suit again and waited.
After perhaps two minutes, Reese opened his hands and straightened up slowly. “You’re dead.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m … ?”
“Unconscious.”
“For now.” Reese shook his head. The tension left his body. “Kara. Damn it. Should have shot her when I had the chance.”
“Honestly, I kinda wish you had.”
John nodded. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to get you killed, too.”
“It’s okay. It’s a lot better than I thought it would be.”
“What is this place?”
Donnelly shrugged. “Heaven, I suppose. Not what I expected.”
“No harps and white wings?”
“No.” And the best sex I ever had in my life. In my death?
The Man’s expression never changed. Evidently being unconscious didn’t confer the same thought-sharing powers as death did. “Can I buy you a drink?” he offered.
Reese wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He was still dirty, torn, bleeding. “I could use a beer,” he allowed.
The next instant he was in an immaculate white shirt and new black jacket, next to Donnelly in a quiet Irish pub, with a pint of Guinness in his hand.
He blinked. “Damn.”
“Yeah. Still figuring out the details myself,” Donnelly said. He sipped his stout. He gestured, and they sat on barstools. “I really am sorry, John. If I’d known what you were doing, why you were doing it …”
“You know now?”
“I know about the Numbers, the Machine. And Harold.”
Reese flinched. “You know about Harold?”
“I can’t hurt him now, John. I’m dead, remember?”
The Man relaxed, took a long swing of his beer. “I guess so. Just habit, protecting him, you know?”
“You love him.”
The steel blue eyes fixed on him, angry for a moment, then softening. “I owe him my life.”
“I met Ingram. His old partner …”
“I know about Ingram,” John snarled.
“He watches over him. And you.”
“He’s not doing a very good job of it.”
Donnelly shook his head. “He can’t help. We can’t change anything down there. We can just watch.”
A dangerous gleam appeared in those bright eyes. “You like to watch, Donnelly?”
“John …”
“You liked watching me and Carter, didn’t you?”
“Could you two have flirted any more?”
“We could have.” Reese looked around. “How long will I be here?”
“I don’t know. Until you wake up back there.” Donnelly sighed. “I’m sorry, John. I’m afraid she’s taken you captive. The psycho bitch.”
“Stanton. I know.” He shrugged. “Like I said, should have shot her when I had the chance.”
“You won’t remember any of this. That you were here, that I spoke to you. None of it.”
The steel blue eyes studied him again. There was something in them that made Donnelly’s breath hitch. “So nothing I do here matters.”
“No.”
“And I won’t remember it?”
“No.”
“Will you?”
Donnelly frowned. “I suppose so.”
“Take me back to RIkers.”
“What?”
Reese grabbed his wrist, hard. “That thing you did, that brought us here. Do it again. Take me back to Rikers. To the interrogation room.”
“Why?”
“Do it now.”
They were there, in the interrogation room where Reese and Carter had spent so much time. It was silent; in his mind, Donnelly has stipulated that they be entirely alone. Still, the one-way glass made him a little nervous. “Okay, we’re here. Now what?”
Reese looked down at his immaculate suit. “Jumpsuit.”
“What?”
“Put me in the jumpsuit. Hurry up. We may not have much time.”
Donnelly pursed his lips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, John, but orange really isn’t the best color on you.”
The Man’s hand shot out; he grabbed Donnelly by the collar, shook him hard. “I need this, Donnelly.”
“What do you need?”
“I need you to do exactly what you wanted to do when you were alive”
“Catch you and throw you behind bars forever?”
“Don’t make me spell this out for you, Donnelly.” There was something needful in those blue eyes now.
“John, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Reese looked away, toward the mirrored window, and then back. “Fine. I need you to throw me down on this table and fuck me in the ass. I need you to pound me, and I need you to do it now.”
Donnelly stared at him. “Why?”
The hand on his shirt tightened even more. “Because Stanton has me, back there.”
“But what’s that got to do with …”
John yanked him very close, so that their noses nearly touched. “Is this why you’re divorced, Donnelly? Did your ex get tired of trying to talk you into having sex?”
Donnelly grabbed his wrist. “That’s none of your damn business!”
Reese kissed him. It was hard, brutal, and it shot excitement through Donnelly’s body like lightning. “Just do it, Donnelly. Please.”
He shook himself loose, stepped back. “All right. Fine.”
“The jumpsuit,” John insisted. He plucked at his jacket.
“Do it yourself.”
“What?”
“Just … wish it,” Donnelly said. “Want it. Picture it. It’s easy.”
“I can’t …”
“Try.”
Reese closed his eyes, opened them - and he was dressed in orange. He shook his head sharply, and Donnelly recognized that he was shaking off the vertigo it caused. But he’d done it. “Told you so.”
John nodded. “Good, good,” he said quickly. He unzipped the top of the jumpsuit and pulled his arms out, pushed it down to let the top hang from his waist. Beneath he wore a sleeveless t-shirt that had once been white. His bare arms rippled with muscles and tension. “Shackles,” he demanded.
“John …”
“I know. Do it myself.” He stood next to the table, spread his feet until they were against two of the table’s legs. Then he bent from the waist and lay face-first on the shiny black surface. He stretched his arms over his head, put his hands together.
The shackles appeared.
The cuffs went around Reese’s outstretched hands. The short chain between them linked to a longer chain that went over the far side of the table and then back under to join the chain between his feet. Each of his feet was shackled to a leg of the table, holding them in the spread position he’d assumed. The Man in the Suit was bent over, chained, helpless.
Except for his voice. “Do it,” he said urgently.
Donnelly stood up straighter. He walked slowly around the table, in a complete circle, studying the set-up. His cock stirred, naturally, at the sight of his long-sought prey chained up so conveniently, entirely at his mercy. The Man twitched on the table, tugged at his chains, but his ability to move was very limited. He was entirely Donnelly’s.
John lifted his head - he could lift it barely far enough to turn it from one side to the other - and glared at Donnelly. “Do it,” he said again, and there was a new tone of pleading under the command.
“I can’t do rape, John,” Donnelly said calmly, continuing his measured circling of the prisoner. “And the whole idea of raping a prisoner in custody - it’s just not me. You know better.”
Reese yanked at his chains in frustration. “Damn it, Donnelly …”
Donnelly smiled tightly. He put his hand on John’s back, then leaned down and put his face right next to his. “That being said, John, I most certainly can do ravishment. And I’d be more than happy to. Just tell me one thing first. What would Harold say, if he knew about the lovely offer you’ve made me here?”
John froze, glaring. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “Harold knows,” he said. “He knows me.”
“Does he?”
“I love him,” Reese admitted. He turned his head away. Donnelly straightened up, but kept his hand on his back. “But I need … sometimes I need …”
Donnelly stroked his fingers down John’s spine, from his hairline to the waistline of the jumpsuit. “What do you need, John?” he asked firmly.
“To be … taken. Hard. To be pounded.”
“And he doesn’t mind?”
The Man clenched his teeth, closed his eyes again. “He likes to watch.”
Donnelly teased the tail of the t-shirt loose and put his hand under it. He ran it upward again, along John’s spine on his bare skin. He trembled at the touch, trembled again when the hand stopped moving. “Does he, now?” He glanced up at the surveillance camera in the corner. “Maybe we should make him a tape.”
Reese muttered something against his teeth.
Donnelly leaned over him again. He let his thigh rest against Reese’s as he did so. “What was that, John?”
The prison sighed violently. “Yes. I said yes. Whatever you want. Just do it.”
“Good.” Calmly, slowly, Donnelly walked over to the camera. He was very aware of the sound of his footsteps in the quiet room. He clicked on the camera. The red light glowed menacingly, He took his time adjusting the focus. When he looked back toward the table, Reese was glaring at him again. There was desperation in his eyes.
His body was covered with a thin sheet of sweat. Every minute that Donnelly delayed, he knew, was a sweet torture for his captive. He didn’t hurry.
Donnelly’s cock ached against the zipper of his suit pants. He walked behind Reese again, moved close enough to press his erection against the back of his thigh. Then he leaned forward again, put his chest against Reese’ back and his mouth against his ear. “Just so we’re clear,” he said very quietly, “if you want to stop, if you want those chains gone, all you have to do is wish it. Just like with the jumpsuit. Just think and they’re gone. Got it?”
Reese yanked at the chains again, rattled them violently. “Don’t fuck this up, Donnelly. I need this.”
Chuckling darkly, Donnelly straightened up. He grabbed the neckline of the t-shirt with both hands and ripped it apart. John’s back was bare to his gaze, to his touch. He paused for one instant; the Man had a horrible number of scars, old and new. Then he put both of his hands on John’s ribs and held him tightly against the table while he ground his still-clothed cock against him. “Have it your way.”
The perspiration made the skin slick. He ran one hand up, laced it roughly through John’s short dark hair. The other hand went lower, dipping under the waistband of the jumpsuit, just touching the top of the crack in his ass.
“Do it,” Reese moaned. “Just do it.”
“Now, see, John, you’re not understanding the situation you’re in.” Donnelly slipped his hand between John’s body and the table top and undid the snap of the jumpsuit. He worked the zipper down a bit, but the Man was chained too tightly to give him much room. He withdrew his hand, grabbed the sides of the ugly orange jumpsuit at Reese’s hips and yanked downward. The jumpsuit fell as far down as Reese’s shackled legs would allow.
Donnelly considered the grayish prison-issue briefs that still covered the Man’s sharply-muscled ass. He rested his hand on the hard curve, hooked his fingertips through the waistband. “You think you’re still in charge here,” he continued slowly. “But the fact of the matter is, you’re chained to the table. “ He removed his hand, moved slowly to the far side of the table, and bent again to brush his lips against John’s stubbled cheek. “So I’ll be the one deciding if you get fucked, and when, and how hard, and how fast. Understand?”
Reese flailed against the chains again, muttering obscenities against the back of his teeth. Donnelly smiled. This was much too enjoyable. He’d been more than willing to play John’s game, both because the Man genuine seemed to need it and because Nick felt like he owed it to him, somehow, but he hadn’t expected to be quite this into it. But this was definitely turning into what the punks at the Bureau called ‘sexy fun time’.
He almost laughed out loud at the thought. He turned his back to Reese quickly and choked the sound back. Don’t fuck this up, Donnelly, Reese had said. He’d to his best to get it right.
Donnelly turned back to the table and leaned close to Reese face again. He ran his hand through the man’s short, perfect hair, across the few strands of gray. He leaned closer and pressed his lips against John’s temple. Reese yanked at his handcuffs violently. Donnelly chuckled softly and continued to stroke his hair. He kissed him again, on his eyebrow, his cheekbone, the tip of his ear. Light, flirty little kisses that absolutely infuriated the Man. That he was helpless to stop.
He kissed the hollow at the corner of his mouth, and Reese snapped his teeth at him.
Donnelly did let himself laugh then, but quietly, darkly. “So impatient,” he teased, his voice low. “Oh, I would love to keep you like this all night.”
Reese raised his head and slammed it down on the table.
Donnelly tightened his hand on John’s hair so he couldn’t do that again. “All right,” he allowed. “All right. But only because I’m a really nice guy. Otherwise I could make this a very long process.”
He put his hand on Reese’s shoulder and kept it there while he strolled back around the table again. The muscles kept jumping erratically; his prisoner was actually twitching with anticipation. Donnelly’s cock began to leak within his own pants.
He stopped and stood squarely behind Reese again. He leaned forward, let his erection rest along the crack in his ass. Through the briefs and through his suit, the heat spread. Reese lurched back, pressing even tighter against him. “Shhhh,” Donnelly said. He put both hands on Reese’ sides, over his ribs, then drew them downward to his hips. He simply held him there for a moment, feeling the contact, the heat. Then he grabbed the waistband of the briefs and tore them in half.
They fell away, vanished, and Reese’s ass was bare, exposed, unprotected and magnificently muscled. He tensed his buns, forming creases on each side. Donnelly grabbed each cheek and kneaded them firmly. He reached lower, working the top of the thighs. Then his hands slid back up. He put his fingers in the crease and pulled the ass cheek apart to reveal John’s opening.
Reese groaned, not in protest.
He ran a single finger down the crease, from the base of Reese’s spine all the way down to his balls. For the first time he realized how tightly John was pressed against the edge of the table: His balls were over the edge, but his cock was pressed flat between the table top and his own body. It had to hurt, Donnelly thought. His own cock wasn’t happy with just the pressure of his own clothes. But it was what John had chosen.
He cupped the balls, caressed them until John squirmed within the tight confines of his bonds. The Man’s thighs quivered, as if he wanted to close them, to stop the stimulation, but with his feet shackled to the table legs he couldn’t.
Donnelly continued to fondle them slowly. He could feel the pain and pleasure it caused John. He didn’t hurry.
He disregarded the growls and whimpers that came from his prisoner. When he was damn good and ready, he moved his other hand along the crack again. With the tip of his finger, he found John’s opening.
Reese froze as he entered him, his whole body tense, ready.
Lube, Donnelly thought calmly, and it was there. He pressed the finger deeper.
Reese thrashed again, just once. The lube surprised him, Donnelly thought. He wanted it rougher, harder. Crueler. He’d picked the wrong man for that.
John relaxed. Donnelly shoved his finger deeper, added a second one, also easily lubed. Thanks, Nathan, he thought warmly as he began to work them slowly, gently in and out.
Always glad to share a perversion, the message came back immediately.
Donnelly did laugh out loud then.
“Something funny?” Reese snarled.
“Hmmm.” Donnelly continued to work his fingers in and out, leisurely, casual. He could feel John tensing, furious, desperate. He liked it. “Just wondering. All those hours you were in here with Carter. Was this what you were thinking about?”
Reese growled and didn’t answer.
Nick withdrew his fingers until just the tips remained inside his ass. “Well? he insisted. “Was it?”
John picked up his head and slammed it against the table again.
Donnelly introduced a third finger to his opening, but kept only the tips inside, unmoving. “John. Tell me. Was this what you wanted?”
Reese took a deep frantic breath. “Yes,” he finally said, very softly. “Yes, yes. Please.”
“There.” Donnelly slid the fingers into him, all three, slow but very deep. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Please.”
He flexed his fingers until the middle one found the soft little nub that made Reese thrash again. “There?”
“Donnelly …”
“Shhh.” He stroked, still slowly, still deeply. He could feel Reese’s body coiling with aroused tension. What else can I do to you, John?
Try cold, Nathan suggested.
Are you watching?
Hell yes I’m watching. Do you mind?
Donnelly groaned. His cock suddenly wouldn’t tolerate its confinement any more. He released John’s balls and unzipped his pants, pulled his erection free through the opening.
Reese groaned happily at the sound, but Donnelly wasn’t quite ready to give him what he wanted. Instead he withdrew his fingers to the tips again. When he thrust in again, his fingers were very cold.
John screamed in surprised and pleasure. His hips pumped against the table, moving that inch or two that his chains allowed, grinding his own tortured cock against the tabletop. Donnelly doubted that he could stop even if he wanted to. He moaned in agony and pleasure.
“Do it,” Reese pleaded. It sounded like he was just about out of words, like it was hard work to speak.
He continued to work the cold fingers. “You want me to fuck you, John?”
The Man shuddered.
“John?” The fingers paused again. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yesssss.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Damn it, yes!”
Donnelly withdrew his hands, stepped closer, pressed the head of his cock against John’s ass. He wasn’t going to be able to tease him much more; his balls ached for release, and his cock was leaking in anticipation. He was going to explode, and probably soon. But not before he’d given John what he’d asked for.
Reese pressed back, that scant inch of movement he had. Donnelly grabbed his hips and held him, but he pressed inside at the same time. He advanced slowly, steadily. He could feel John stretch around him, and he knew - remembered - exactly how the burn added to the pleasure. When he was fully seated, with his balls pressed against John’s, he stopped again. “Like this?” he inquired.
The quaver of his own voice gave away his excitement, but he doubted Reese was in any condition to notice.
The Man moved, squirmed, but the chains kept him from thrusting with any power.
“Be still,” Donnelly said. He tightened his hands on his hips. Forcing him to be still.
“Now,” John said, his voice a raw whisper. “Please, now.”
Donnelly withdrew, thrust again. Stopped again.
Reese lifted his head and seemed to gather himself. “Donnelly, I swear to God, if Stanton wakes me up before you finish this, I will find your grave and piss on it every day for the rest of my life!”
“Ah, the Man is back.” Donnelly laughed softly. But he was as done with the game as Reese was. He moved them, withdrawing, thrusting . He didn’t stop this time. He built a rhythm, fast, and Reese met him as well as he could on every stroke.
He fucked him hard and deep, exactly as requested. John grunted with every stroke, moaned every time he withdrew. It sounded like he was satisfied with the progress. Donnelly went harder, faster. The table began to scrape on the floor, the legs sliding a fraction of an inch with every slamming thrust.
Pounding. It was what Reese had asked for. It was what he got.
Donnelly felt his body coiling toward climax. The countdown started and could not be stopped. Not ten thrusts left. Maybe not five. He used what was left of his conscious mind to check on his partner’s progress …
… realized that Reese could not possible come in that position, that it would be agony …
… that he’d never planned to anyhow, that this was punishment for John as much as pleasure …
… you got the wrong guy, John, but I’ll take care of you …
Two, one, and then he was pounding and his whole body was trying to explode inside of Reese …
John lifted his head and screamed.
Before the sound ended, before Donnelly had finished ejaculating, they were in Donnelly’s bed, naked, on their sides. The shackles were gone. Reese had his back against Donnelly’s chest. Nick’s cock was still buried in his ass. But now he could get his hand around, get a hold of John’s cock and pump it, hard, even while he was still moving against his ass.
Reese came then, shuddering as he spent over Donnelly’s hand and his own belly and the bed. He came hard and long, and then he simply collapsed.
Donnelly held him, kissed his ear and his hair, while both of them slowly relaxed. “All right?” he finally said.
“Perfect,” Reese answered. He wrapped his arms over Donnelly’s.
For a long time they were silent and still. Finally, Reese said, “Never figured you for a cuddler, Donnelly.”
“Fuck you,” Nick answered easily. “I’ve had a bitch of a day, too, you know.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to get you killed.”
“Not your fault.”
“It is, though. All the choices I made, that’s what put you there. If I’d shot her when I was supposed to …”
“If I hadn’t come and arrested you again,” Donnelly reminded him. “We all made choices that put us there. I’m damn sorry she’s got you. She seems …brutal.”
Reese shuddered. “That’s a good word for it.”
“Why this?” Donnelly asked. “Why did you need this?”
“To take the edge off.” Reese shifted a little, but didn’t try to leave Donnelly’s arms. “It’s been a long time.”
“But you won’t remember. When you go back.”
“No. But maybe my body will. If I can stay relaxed, she can’t hurt me as much. If I’m not carrying all this sexual tension around, that’s one less tool she can use against me.”
“She’s that kind?”
“She’s all the kinds.” John lifted Donnelly’ hand and pressed a kiss against his palm. “I needed this. Thank you.”
“I wish I could do something more. I wish I could help you somehow.”
“For a dead guy, you just helped me a lot more than I expected.” Reese sighed. “I’m going to miss you hunting me. You were damn good at it.”
“For all the good it did me. If I wasn’t dead, I’d still hunt you. And her, now. Maybe I could get you away from her.” Donnelly shrugged. “Of course, I wouldn’t know what I know now, so I’d just throw your ass back in jail.”
“I’d much rather be in your custody than in Kara’s.”
They were quiet again.
“Back there, in the interrogation room …” Donnelly finally said. “You know I’d never really …”
“I know,” Reese said quickly. “But it was a damn good fantasy.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“And you played it very well.”
“I didn’t think that one would trip my triggers,” Donnelly admitted. “But that was definitely …”
Reese was gone.
***
The urgent voice on the phone. The headlights coming at him. The impact, the crunching sound, the world rolling over and over and everything inside the car trying to tear his body to shreds …
… the footsteps, the casual click of heels on bricks, and the woman, her dark hair falling around her face, and the gun. Donnelly looking up at her, trying to speak, to ask for help, to ask who she was. But no time, no words. One shot, and a grunt. A second shot, a second grunt …
Donnelly shook his head. Again.
The urgent voice on the phone. The headlights coming at him. The impact, the crunching sound, the world rolling over and over and everything inside the car trying to tear his body to shreds …
“What are you doing, Nick?”
Donnelly jumped. Nathan was beside him. He had on a polo shirt, khakis. He was barefoot. “Nathan.”
“This isn’t good, Nick. Replaying this? It’s not good for you.”
Donnelly shook his head and ran it again.
… the footsteps, the casual click of heels on bricks, and the woman, her dark hair falling around her face, and the gun. Donnelly looking up at her, trying to speak, to ask for help, to ask who she was. But no time, to words. One shot, and a grunt. A second shot, a second grunt …
“I made a choice,” he said slowly.
“What?”
“I made a choice,” Donnelly repeated. “Right there. After the first shot. I wasn’t quite dead. Close, but not quite. I could have stayed. But it all seemed so … inevitable.”
“Sure. She shot you again.”
“I thought she’d take the head shot.”
Ingram cocked his head. “You lost me.”
“She’s a professional. She should have double-tapped. One in the chest, one in the head. So after the first shot, I was sure she’d take the head shot.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“But she didn’t.” Donnelly ran the memory again. He and Ingram stood by the river, watching it happen.
… the footsteps, the casual click of heels on bricks, and the woman, her dark hair falling around her face, and the gun.
“She didn’t take the head shot.”
“I don’t get what you’re after here, Nick.”
Donnelly turned to him. “I could have survived this. I might have survived this, if I hadn’t given up.”
“Well, yeah, except for that whole being crushed in the crash part,” Ingram said. He gestured. “You were on your way out when she showed up.”
“Maybe.” Donnelly paced to the other side of the wreck and watched it again. “But I had a choice, Nathan. I could have stayed. I was dying. But I wasn’t dead. I could have stayed and fought. I chose to let go.”
“So what?”
“So I can go back.”
The words hung between them for a long time. Donnelly wasn’t asking. He didn’t need to ask. He knew. He knew. “And if I go back,” he continued, “I might be able to help them. To help John.”
Ingram watched the scene play again.
… the impact, the crunching sound, the world rolling over and over and everything inside the car trying to tear his body to shreds …
“If you go back,” he finally said, “you’re going to be in agony. And chances are really good that you’ll just die a minute later anyhow.”
“In which case I’ll be back before you miss me.”
“And even if you live … you won’t remember, Nick. Everything you know about your Man in the Suit, about the Machine, about Harold - it’ll all be gone. You won’t know any of it. It’ll be gone.”
“I won’t know you,” Donnelly realized.
“You won’t know me.”
He stared at the wrecked car again. “I was wrong, Nathan. I was wrong about John. And I was wrong to let go.”
“Are you getting this?” Ingram demanded. “If you go back, even if by some miracle you survive, you won’t know you’re wrong. You’ll still keep hunting him.”
“But that’s just the point,” Donnelly countered. “I will keep hunting him. I will chase him to the ends of the earth. I will tear the city apart to get him back from Stanton. I will find him, Nathan. If I survive this, I will find him. And save him.”
“And throw him in jail.”
“He’d much rather be in my custody than in hers.”
“Well, yeah.” Nathan smirked. “He likes your interrogation techniques. Can’t say as I blame him.”
“Nathan.”
Ingram sighed heavily. “I wish you wouldn’t do this. You’re just going to end up dead again.”
“Then I end up dead, and I come right back here to you. But I was wrong, Nathan. If I live, I can help him. I will help him. I have to take this chance. If I die, fine, I did the best I could. Then I’m fine, I can let it go.” He watched the wreck and the shooting again. “But I can’t live - or be dead - with myself, if I don’t try. If I don’t do the best I can.”
“Not enough that you’re great in bed,” Ingram said softly, “you gotta be a hero, too, huh?”
Donnelly looked at him. Those beautiful eyes. That beautiful mouth. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you, Nathan. When I get back …”
“I’ll look you up.”
“Promise?”
Ingram put his arms around him, pulled him close. “Go do what you have to do, Nick. I’ll be here.”
Donnelly kissed him. Just for a moment, he hesitated. He could be here, safe and happy with Ingram. Or he could be in that truck, crushed and broken and probably dying.
But there was that one chance …
Special Agent Nicholas Donnelly closed his eyes and shut out the light.
***
Stay still, Nick. Stay still. Stay still.
The voice was warm, rich and baritone. And loving. Donnelly had no idea whose voice it was. He’d never heard it before. But he knew he believed it. He knew it was terribly, terribly urgent that he stay absolutely still.
It was a matter of life and death.
The second shot fired, very close. He’d known somehow that there would be a second shot. The impact forced a gasp out of him. He held his breath, hoping she hadn’t noticed. She didn’t. He heard the steps move away, toward what had been the back seat of the car. She’s after the Man in the Suit, he realized. She doesn’t want me. I’m just collateral damage.
He kept his eyes open, his pupils fixed on the light on the front of the building next to the truck. He breathed very lightly, trying to keep his chest from moving. He could see the woman moving out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t look at him, didn’t check him.
She’d seemed like a professional, but she acted like a psycho.
She was intently focused on the Man in the Suit.
That might just save Donnelly’s life. If he survived, he could get him back.
Save his life and throw his ass in jail forever.
Everything was cold. Everything hurt.
He had some notion he’d been somewhere warm, safe. And there had been fantastic sex …
Stay still, Nick. Stay still. Stay still.
He stayed still. He lived.
The End
Explicit
***
Even sitting absolutely still, the Man in the Suit looked dangerous.
Donnelly stopped in front of him, six feet in front of the bench, and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “John?”
The Man flinched at his name, but didn’t more.
“I was wrong about you,” Donnelly continued after a moment. “And I’m sorry.”
John sighed heavily. Then he sat up slowly and glared at him. Reese, Donnelly suddenly knew. That wasn’t his name, but that was what he called himself. John Reese.
It seemed stupid , that having that name meant so much to Donnelly now.
“You’re sorry?” Reese snarled, incredulous. “You’re sorry?”
Donnelly brought his hands out, held them open in front of him. “I didn’t know …”
“You’re fucking sorry?” Reese screamed. He came off the bench and threw a roundhouse punch in the same fluid motion. His fist caught Donnelly on the side of his jaw and knocked him sideways. He staggered, but managed to stay up. Reese was on him before he recovered. The Man grabbed him by his jacket, held tight with one hand and hit him three more times with the other before he managed to back away.
As he tried to retreat, Reese grabbed his wrist and twisted it, hard. With his free hand this time he worked Donnelly’s body, first the ribs, then the kidneys.
None of it hurt, not even when Donnelly felt the blood dripping down his chin. Not even when he heard his wrist snap, when he felt his shoulder jerk out of its socket.
He couldn’t stop himself from swinging back anyhow, with the arm that still worked. He got in one good jab, connected squarely with Reese’s sculpted jaw, snapped his head back. But the man barely flinched. He turned, his eyes blazing with rage, and came at him again.
The third time he closed on Donnelly, the Man got his arm around his neck and choked him.
Donnelly pounded Reese’s ribs as hard as he could until the world went black.
And then he was standing six feet away again. The blood was gone. His suit was clean.
Reese pause, startled. His glared grew ever more ferocious. Then he charged again. This time he threw Donnelly down and fell on him. They wrestled for a minute on the grass, and then he was choking him out again, this time with both hands.
Again the world went black, and again it reset itself.
“Who are you?” Reese demanded, furious.
“I’m dead,” Donnelly said.
“You’re not dead enough.” The Man came at him again.
Donnelly threw an uppercut that got through mostly by chance, caught the Man full on the jaw, and dropped him.
John rolled to his feet, his hands in fists just in front of his hips, ready to fend off the next attack.
Donnelly raised his hands again. “We can do this all day, John. I’m willing, if it will help you somehow. But you can’t hurt me. I’m already dead.”
The Man froze. His eyes filled with furious tears. His whole body shook with rage.
Donnelly wished himself into a clean suit again and waited.
After perhaps two minutes, Reese opened his hands and straightened up slowly. “You’re dead.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m … ?”
“Unconscious.”
“For now.” Reese shook his head. The tension left his body. “Kara. Damn it. Should have shot her when I had the chance.”
“Honestly, I kinda wish you had.”
John nodded. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to get you killed, too.”
“It’s okay. It’s a lot better than I thought it would be.”
“What is this place?”
Donnelly shrugged. “Heaven, I suppose. Not what I expected.”
“No harps and white wings?”
“No.” And the best sex I ever had in my life. In my death?
The Man’s expression never changed. Evidently being unconscious didn’t confer the same thought-sharing powers as death did. “Can I buy you a drink?” he offered.
Reese wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He was still dirty, torn, bleeding. “I could use a beer,” he allowed.
The next instant he was in an immaculate white shirt and new black jacket, next to Donnelly in a quiet Irish pub, with a pint of Guinness in his hand.
He blinked. “Damn.”
“Yeah. Still figuring out the details myself,” Donnelly said. He sipped his stout. He gestured, and they sat on barstools. “I really am sorry, John. If I’d known what you were doing, why you were doing it …”
“You know now?”
“I know about the Numbers, the Machine. And Harold.”
Reese flinched. “You know about Harold?”
“I can’t hurt him now, John. I’m dead, remember?”
The Man relaxed, took a long swing of his beer. “I guess so. Just habit, protecting him, you know?”
“You love him.”
The steel blue eyes fixed on him, angry for a moment, then softening. “I owe him my life.”
“I met Ingram. His old partner …”
“I know about Ingram,” John snarled.
“He watches over him. And you.”
“He’s not doing a very good job of it.”
Donnelly shook his head. “He can’t help. We can’t change anything down there. We can just watch.”
A dangerous gleam appeared in those bright eyes. “You like to watch, Donnelly?”
“John …”
“You liked watching me and Carter, didn’t you?”
“Could you two have flirted any more?”
“We could have.” Reese looked around. “How long will I be here?”
“I don’t know. Until you wake up back there.” Donnelly sighed. “I’m sorry, John. I’m afraid she’s taken you captive. The psycho bitch.”
“Stanton. I know.” He shrugged. “Like I said, should have shot her when I had the chance.”
“You won’t remember any of this. That you were here, that I spoke to you. None of it.”
The steel blue eyes studied him again. There was something in them that made Donnelly’s breath hitch. “So nothing I do here matters.”
“No.”
“And I won’t remember it?”
“No.”
“Will you?”
Donnelly frowned. “I suppose so.”
“Take me back to RIkers.”
“What?”
Reese grabbed his wrist, hard. “That thing you did, that brought us here. Do it again. Take me back to Rikers. To the interrogation room.”
“Why?”
“Do it now.”
They were there, in the interrogation room where Reese and Carter had spent so much time. It was silent; in his mind, Donnelly has stipulated that they be entirely alone. Still, the one-way glass made him a little nervous. “Okay, we’re here. Now what?”
Reese looked down at his immaculate suit. “Jumpsuit.”
“What?”
“Put me in the jumpsuit. Hurry up. We may not have much time.”
Donnelly pursed his lips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, John, but orange really isn’t the best color on you.”
The Man’s hand shot out; he grabbed Donnelly by the collar, shook him hard. “I need this, Donnelly.”
“What do you need?”
“I need you to do exactly what you wanted to do when you were alive”
“Catch you and throw you behind bars forever?”
“Don’t make me spell this out for you, Donnelly.” There was something needful in those blue eyes now.
“John, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Reese looked away, toward the mirrored window, and then back. “Fine. I need you to throw me down on this table and fuck me in the ass. I need you to pound me, and I need you to do it now.”
Donnelly stared at him. “Why?”
The hand on his shirt tightened even more. “Because Stanton has me, back there.”
“But what’s that got to do with …”
John yanked him very close, so that their noses nearly touched. “Is this why you’re divorced, Donnelly? Did your ex get tired of trying to talk you into having sex?”
Donnelly grabbed his wrist. “That’s none of your damn business!”
Reese kissed him. It was hard, brutal, and it shot excitement through Donnelly’s body like lightning. “Just do it, Donnelly. Please.”
He shook himself loose, stepped back. “All right. Fine.”
“The jumpsuit,” John insisted. He plucked at his jacket.
“Do it yourself.”
“What?”
“Just … wish it,” Donnelly said. “Want it. Picture it. It’s easy.”
“I can’t …”
“Try.”
Reese closed his eyes, opened them - and he was dressed in orange. He shook his head sharply, and Donnelly recognized that he was shaking off the vertigo it caused. But he’d done it. “Told you so.”
John nodded. “Good, good,” he said quickly. He unzipped the top of the jumpsuit and pulled his arms out, pushed it down to let the top hang from his waist. Beneath he wore a sleeveless t-shirt that had once been white. His bare arms rippled with muscles and tension. “Shackles,” he demanded.
“John …”
“I know. Do it myself.” He stood next to the table, spread his feet until they were against two of the table’s legs. Then he bent from the waist and lay face-first on the shiny black surface. He stretched his arms over his head, put his hands together.
The shackles appeared.
The cuffs went around Reese’s outstretched hands. The short chain between them linked to a longer chain that went over the far side of the table and then back under to join the chain between his feet. Each of his feet was shackled to a leg of the table, holding them in the spread position he’d assumed. The Man in the Suit was bent over, chained, helpless.
Except for his voice. “Do it,” he said urgently.
Donnelly stood up straighter. He walked slowly around the table, in a complete circle, studying the set-up. His cock stirred, naturally, at the sight of his long-sought prey chained up so conveniently, entirely at his mercy. The Man twitched on the table, tugged at his chains, but his ability to move was very limited. He was entirely Donnelly’s.
John lifted his head - he could lift it barely far enough to turn it from one side to the other - and glared at Donnelly. “Do it,” he said again, and there was a new tone of pleading under the command.
“I can’t do rape, John,” Donnelly said calmly, continuing his measured circling of the prisoner. “And the whole idea of raping a prisoner in custody - it’s just not me. You know better.”
Reese yanked at his chains in frustration. “Damn it, Donnelly …”
Donnelly smiled tightly. He put his hand on John’s back, then leaned down and put his face right next to his. “That being said, John, I most certainly can do ravishment. And I’d be more than happy to. Just tell me one thing first. What would Harold say, if he knew about the lovely offer you’ve made me here?”
John froze, glaring. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “Harold knows,” he said. “He knows me.”
“Does he?”
“I love him,” Reese admitted. He turned his head away. Donnelly straightened up, but kept his hand on his back. “But I need … sometimes I need …”
Donnelly stroked his fingers down John’s spine, from his hairline to the waistline of the jumpsuit. “What do you need, John?” he asked firmly.
“To be … taken. Hard. To be pounded.”
“And he doesn’t mind?”
The Man clenched his teeth, closed his eyes again. “He likes to watch.”
Donnelly teased the tail of the t-shirt loose and put his hand under it. He ran it upward again, along John’s spine on his bare skin. He trembled at the touch, trembled again when the hand stopped moving. “Does he, now?” He glanced up at the surveillance camera in the corner. “Maybe we should make him a tape.”
Reese muttered something against his teeth.
Donnelly leaned over him again. He let his thigh rest against Reese’s as he did so. “What was that, John?”
The prison sighed violently. “Yes. I said yes. Whatever you want. Just do it.”
“Good.” Calmly, slowly, Donnelly walked over to the camera. He was very aware of the sound of his footsteps in the quiet room. He clicked on the camera. The red light glowed menacingly, He took his time adjusting the focus. When he looked back toward the table, Reese was glaring at him again. There was desperation in his eyes.
His body was covered with a thin sheet of sweat. Every minute that Donnelly delayed, he knew, was a sweet torture for his captive. He didn’t hurry.
Donnelly’s cock ached against the zipper of his suit pants. He walked behind Reese again, moved close enough to press his erection against the back of his thigh. Then he leaned forward again, put his chest against Reese’ back and his mouth against his ear. “Just so we’re clear,” he said very quietly, “if you want to stop, if you want those chains gone, all you have to do is wish it. Just like with the jumpsuit. Just think and they’re gone. Got it?”
Reese yanked at the chains again, rattled them violently. “Don’t fuck this up, Donnelly. I need this.”
Chuckling darkly, Donnelly straightened up. He grabbed the neckline of the t-shirt with both hands and ripped it apart. John’s back was bare to his gaze, to his touch. He paused for one instant; the Man had a horrible number of scars, old and new. Then he put both of his hands on John’s ribs and held him tightly against the table while he ground his still-clothed cock against him. “Have it your way.”
The perspiration made the skin slick. He ran one hand up, laced it roughly through John’s short dark hair. The other hand went lower, dipping under the waistband of the jumpsuit, just touching the top of the crack in his ass.
“Do it,” Reese moaned. “Just do it.”
“Now, see, John, you’re not understanding the situation you’re in.” Donnelly slipped his hand between John’s body and the table top and undid the snap of the jumpsuit. He worked the zipper down a bit, but the Man was chained too tightly to give him much room. He withdrew his hand, grabbed the sides of the ugly orange jumpsuit at Reese’s hips and yanked downward. The jumpsuit fell as far down as Reese’s shackled legs would allow.
Donnelly considered the grayish prison-issue briefs that still covered the Man’s sharply-muscled ass. He rested his hand on the hard curve, hooked his fingertips through the waistband. “You think you’re still in charge here,” he continued slowly. “But the fact of the matter is, you’re chained to the table. “ He removed his hand, moved slowly to the far side of the table, and bent again to brush his lips against John’s stubbled cheek. “So I’ll be the one deciding if you get fucked, and when, and how hard, and how fast. Understand?”
Reese flailed against the chains again, muttering obscenities against the back of his teeth. Donnelly smiled. This was much too enjoyable. He’d been more than willing to play John’s game, both because the Man genuine seemed to need it and because Nick felt like he owed it to him, somehow, but he hadn’t expected to be quite this into it. But this was definitely turning into what the punks at the Bureau called ‘sexy fun time’.
He almost laughed out loud at the thought. He turned his back to Reese quickly and choked the sound back. Don’t fuck this up, Donnelly, Reese had said. He’d to his best to get it right.
Donnelly turned back to the table and leaned close to Reese face again. He ran his hand through the man’s short, perfect hair, across the few strands of gray. He leaned closer and pressed his lips against John’s temple. Reese yanked at his handcuffs violently. Donnelly chuckled softly and continued to stroke his hair. He kissed him again, on his eyebrow, his cheekbone, the tip of his ear. Light, flirty little kisses that absolutely infuriated the Man. That he was helpless to stop.
He kissed the hollow at the corner of his mouth, and Reese snapped his teeth at him.
Donnelly did let himself laugh then, but quietly, darkly. “So impatient,” he teased, his voice low. “Oh, I would love to keep you like this all night.”
Reese raised his head and slammed it down on the table.
Donnelly tightened his hand on John’s hair so he couldn’t do that again. “All right,” he allowed. “All right. But only because I’m a really nice guy. Otherwise I could make this a very long process.”
He put his hand on Reese’s shoulder and kept it there while he strolled back around the table again. The muscles kept jumping erratically; his prisoner was actually twitching with anticipation. Donnelly’s cock began to leak within his own pants.
He stopped and stood squarely behind Reese again. He leaned forward, let his erection rest along the crack in his ass. Through the briefs and through his suit, the heat spread. Reese lurched back, pressing even tighter against him. “Shhhh,” Donnelly said. He put both hands on Reese’ sides, over his ribs, then drew them downward to his hips. He simply held him there for a moment, feeling the contact, the heat. Then he grabbed the waistband of the briefs and tore them in half.
They fell away, vanished, and Reese’s ass was bare, exposed, unprotected and magnificently muscled. He tensed his buns, forming creases on each side. Donnelly grabbed each cheek and kneaded them firmly. He reached lower, working the top of the thighs. Then his hands slid back up. He put his fingers in the crease and pulled the ass cheek apart to reveal John’s opening.
Reese groaned, not in protest.
He ran a single finger down the crease, from the base of Reese’s spine all the way down to his balls. For the first time he realized how tightly John was pressed against the edge of the table: His balls were over the edge, but his cock was pressed flat between the table top and his own body. It had to hurt, Donnelly thought. His own cock wasn’t happy with just the pressure of his own clothes. But it was what John had chosen.
He cupped the balls, caressed them until John squirmed within the tight confines of his bonds. The Man’s thighs quivered, as if he wanted to close them, to stop the stimulation, but with his feet shackled to the table legs he couldn’t.
Donnelly continued to fondle them slowly. He could feel the pain and pleasure it caused John. He didn’t hurry.
He disregarded the growls and whimpers that came from his prisoner. When he was damn good and ready, he moved his other hand along the crack again. With the tip of his finger, he found John’s opening.
Reese froze as he entered him, his whole body tense, ready.
Lube, Donnelly thought calmly, and it was there. He pressed the finger deeper.
Reese thrashed again, just once. The lube surprised him, Donnelly thought. He wanted it rougher, harder. Crueler. He’d picked the wrong man for that.
John relaxed. Donnelly shoved his finger deeper, added a second one, also easily lubed. Thanks, Nathan, he thought warmly as he began to work them slowly, gently in and out.
Always glad to share a perversion, the message came back immediately.
Donnelly did laugh out loud then.
“Something funny?” Reese snarled.
“Hmmm.” Donnelly continued to work his fingers in and out, leisurely, casual. He could feel John tensing, furious, desperate. He liked it. “Just wondering. All those hours you were in here with Carter. Was this what you were thinking about?”
Reese growled and didn’t answer.
Nick withdrew his fingers until just the tips remained inside his ass. “Well? he insisted. “Was it?”
John picked up his head and slammed it against the table again.
Donnelly introduced a third finger to his opening, but kept only the tips inside, unmoving. “John. Tell me. Was this what you wanted?”
Reese took a deep frantic breath. “Yes,” he finally said, very softly. “Yes, yes. Please.”
“There.” Donnelly slid the fingers into him, all three, slow but very deep. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Please.”
He flexed his fingers until the middle one found the soft little nub that made Reese thrash again. “There?”
“Donnelly …”
“Shhh.” He stroked, still slowly, still deeply. He could feel Reese’s body coiling with aroused tension. What else can I do to you, John?
Try cold, Nathan suggested.
Are you watching?
Hell yes I’m watching. Do you mind?
Donnelly groaned. His cock suddenly wouldn’t tolerate its confinement any more. He released John’s balls and unzipped his pants, pulled his erection free through the opening.
Reese groaned happily at the sound, but Donnelly wasn’t quite ready to give him what he wanted. Instead he withdrew his fingers to the tips again. When he thrust in again, his fingers were very cold.
John screamed in surprised and pleasure. His hips pumped against the table, moving that inch or two that his chains allowed, grinding his own tortured cock against the tabletop. Donnelly doubted that he could stop even if he wanted to. He moaned in agony and pleasure.
“Do it,” Reese pleaded. It sounded like he was just about out of words, like it was hard work to speak.
He continued to work the cold fingers. “You want me to fuck you, John?”
The Man shuddered.
“John?” The fingers paused again. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yesssss.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Damn it, yes!”
Donnelly withdrew his hands, stepped closer, pressed the head of his cock against John’s ass. He wasn’t going to be able to tease him much more; his balls ached for release, and his cock was leaking in anticipation. He was going to explode, and probably soon. But not before he’d given John what he’d asked for.
Reese pressed back, that scant inch of movement he had. Donnelly grabbed his hips and held him, but he pressed inside at the same time. He advanced slowly, steadily. He could feel John stretch around him, and he knew - remembered - exactly how the burn added to the pleasure. When he was fully seated, with his balls pressed against John’s, he stopped again. “Like this?” he inquired.
The quaver of his own voice gave away his excitement, but he doubted Reese was in any condition to notice.
The Man moved, squirmed, but the chains kept him from thrusting with any power.
“Be still,” Donnelly said. He tightened his hands on his hips. Forcing him to be still.
“Now,” John said, his voice a raw whisper. “Please, now.”
Donnelly withdrew, thrust again. Stopped again.
Reese lifted his head and seemed to gather himself. “Donnelly, I swear to God, if Stanton wakes me up before you finish this, I will find your grave and piss on it every day for the rest of my life!”
“Ah, the Man is back.” Donnelly laughed softly. But he was as done with the game as Reese was. He moved them, withdrawing, thrusting . He didn’t stop this time. He built a rhythm, fast, and Reese met him as well as he could on every stroke.
He fucked him hard and deep, exactly as requested. John grunted with every stroke, moaned every time he withdrew. It sounded like he was satisfied with the progress. Donnelly went harder, faster. The table began to scrape on the floor, the legs sliding a fraction of an inch with every slamming thrust.
Pounding. It was what Reese had asked for. It was what he got.
Donnelly felt his body coiling toward climax. The countdown started and could not be stopped. Not ten thrusts left. Maybe not five. He used what was left of his conscious mind to check on his partner’s progress …
… realized that Reese could not possible come in that position, that it would be agony …
… that he’d never planned to anyhow, that this was punishment for John as much as pleasure …
… you got the wrong guy, John, but I’ll take care of you …
Two, one, and then he was pounding and his whole body was trying to explode inside of Reese …
John lifted his head and screamed.
Before the sound ended, before Donnelly had finished ejaculating, they were in Donnelly’s bed, naked, on their sides. The shackles were gone. Reese had his back against Donnelly’s chest. Nick’s cock was still buried in his ass. But now he could get his hand around, get a hold of John’s cock and pump it, hard, even while he was still moving against his ass.
Reese came then, shuddering as he spent over Donnelly’s hand and his own belly and the bed. He came hard and long, and then he simply collapsed.
Donnelly held him, kissed his ear and his hair, while both of them slowly relaxed. “All right?” he finally said.
“Perfect,” Reese answered. He wrapped his arms over Donnelly’s.
For a long time they were silent and still. Finally, Reese said, “Never figured you for a cuddler, Donnelly.”
“Fuck you,” Nick answered easily. “I’ve had a bitch of a day, too, you know.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to get you killed.”
“Not your fault.”
“It is, though. All the choices I made, that’s what put you there. If I’d shot her when I was supposed to …”
“If I hadn’t come and arrested you again,” Donnelly reminded him. “We all made choices that put us there. I’m damn sorry she’s got you. She seems …brutal.”
Reese shuddered. “That’s a good word for it.”
“Why this?” Donnelly asked. “Why did you need this?”
“To take the edge off.” Reese shifted a little, but didn’t try to leave Donnelly’s arms. “It’s been a long time.”
“But you won’t remember. When you go back.”
“No. But maybe my body will. If I can stay relaxed, she can’t hurt me as much. If I’m not carrying all this sexual tension around, that’s one less tool she can use against me.”
“She’s that kind?”
“She’s all the kinds.” John lifted Donnelly’ hand and pressed a kiss against his palm. “I needed this. Thank you.”
“I wish I could do something more. I wish I could help you somehow.”
“For a dead guy, you just helped me a lot more than I expected.” Reese sighed. “I’m going to miss you hunting me. You were damn good at it.”
“For all the good it did me. If I wasn’t dead, I’d still hunt you. And her, now. Maybe I could get you away from her.” Donnelly shrugged. “Of course, I wouldn’t know what I know now, so I’d just throw your ass back in jail.”
“I’d much rather be in your custody than in Kara’s.”
They were quiet again.
“Back there, in the interrogation room …” Donnelly finally said. “You know I’d never really …”
“I know,” Reese said quickly. “But it was a damn good fantasy.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“And you played it very well.”
“I didn’t think that one would trip my triggers,” Donnelly admitted. “But that was definitely …”
Reese was gone.
***
The urgent voice on the phone. The headlights coming at him. The impact, the crunching sound, the world rolling over and over and everything inside the car trying to tear his body to shreds …
… the footsteps, the casual click of heels on bricks, and the woman, her dark hair falling around her face, and the gun. Donnelly looking up at her, trying to speak, to ask for help, to ask who she was. But no time, no words. One shot, and a grunt. A second shot, a second grunt …
Donnelly shook his head. Again.
The urgent voice on the phone. The headlights coming at him. The impact, the crunching sound, the world rolling over and over and everything inside the car trying to tear his body to shreds …
“What are you doing, Nick?”
Donnelly jumped. Nathan was beside him. He had on a polo shirt, khakis. He was barefoot. “Nathan.”
“This isn’t good, Nick. Replaying this? It’s not good for you.”
Donnelly shook his head and ran it again.
… the footsteps, the casual click of heels on bricks, and the woman, her dark hair falling around her face, and the gun. Donnelly looking up at her, trying to speak, to ask for help, to ask who she was. But no time, to words. One shot, and a grunt. A second shot, a second grunt …
“I made a choice,” he said slowly.
“What?”
“I made a choice,” Donnelly repeated. “Right there. After the first shot. I wasn’t quite dead. Close, but not quite. I could have stayed. But it all seemed so … inevitable.”
“Sure. She shot you again.”
“I thought she’d take the head shot.”
Ingram cocked his head. “You lost me.”
“She’s a professional. She should have double-tapped. One in the chest, one in the head. So after the first shot, I was sure she’d take the head shot.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“But she didn’t.” Donnelly ran the memory again. He and Ingram stood by the river, watching it happen.
… the footsteps, the casual click of heels on bricks, and the woman, her dark hair falling around her face, and the gun.
“She didn’t take the head shot.”
“I don’t get what you’re after here, Nick.”
Donnelly turned to him. “I could have survived this. I might have survived this, if I hadn’t given up.”
“Well, yeah, except for that whole being crushed in the crash part,” Ingram said. He gestured. “You were on your way out when she showed up.”
“Maybe.” Donnelly paced to the other side of the wreck and watched it again. “But I had a choice, Nathan. I could have stayed. I was dying. But I wasn’t dead. I could have stayed and fought. I chose to let go.”
“So what?”
“So I can go back.”
The words hung between them for a long time. Donnelly wasn’t asking. He didn’t need to ask. He knew. He knew. “And if I go back,” he continued, “I might be able to help them. To help John.”
Ingram watched the scene play again.
… the impact, the crunching sound, the world rolling over and over and everything inside the car trying to tear his body to shreds …
“If you go back,” he finally said, “you’re going to be in agony. And chances are really good that you’ll just die a minute later anyhow.”
“In which case I’ll be back before you miss me.”
“And even if you live … you won’t remember, Nick. Everything you know about your Man in the Suit, about the Machine, about Harold - it’ll all be gone. You won’t know any of it. It’ll be gone.”
“I won’t know you,” Donnelly realized.
“You won’t know me.”
He stared at the wrecked car again. “I was wrong, Nathan. I was wrong about John. And I was wrong to let go.”
“Are you getting this?” Ingram demanded. “If you go back, even if by some miracle you survive, you won’t know you’re wrong. You’ll still keep hunting him.”
“But that’s just the point,” Donnelly countered. “I will keep hunting him. I will chase him to the ends of the earth. I will tear the city apart to get him back from Stanton. I will find him, Nathan. If I survive this, I will find him. And save him.”
“And throw him in jail.”
“He’d much rather be in my custody than in hers.”
“Well, yeah.” Nathan smirked. “He likes your interrogation techniques. Can’t say as I blame him.”
“Nathan.”
Ingram sighed heavily. “I wish you wouldn’t do this. You’re just going to end up dead again.”
“Then I end up dead, and I come right back here to you. But I was wrong, Nathan. If I live, I can help him. I will help him. I have to take this chance. If I die, fine, I did the best I could. Then I’m fine, I can let it go.” He watched the wreck and the shooting again. “But I can’t live - or be dead - with myself, if I don’t try. If I don’t do the best I can.”
“Not enough that you’re great in bed,” Ingram said softly, “you gotta be a hero, too, huh?”
Donnelly looked at him. Those beautiful eyes. That beautiful mouth. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you, Nathan. When I get back …”
“I’ll look you up.”
“Promise?”
Ingram put his arms around him, pulled him close. “Go do what you have to do, Nick. I’ll be here.”
Donnelly kissed him. Just for a moment, he hesitated. He could be here, safe and happy with Ingram. Or he could be in that truck, crushed and broken and probably dying.
But there was that one chance …
Special Agent Nicholas Donnelly closed his eyes and shut out the light.
***
Stay still, Nick. Stay still. Stay still.
The voice was warm, rich and baritone. And loving. Donnelly had no idea whose voice it was. He’d never heard it before. But he knew he believed it. He knew it was terribly, terribly urgent that he stay absolutely still.
It was a matter of life and death.
The second shot fired, very close. He’d known somehow that there would be a second shot. The impact forced a gasp out of him. He held his breath, hoping she hadn’t noticed. She didn’t. He heard the steps move away, toward what had been the back seat of the car. She’s after the Man in the Suit, he realized. She doesn’t want me. I’m just collateral damage.
He kept his eyes open, his pupils fixed on the light on the front of the building next to the truck. He breathed very lightly, trying to keep his chest from moving. He could see the woman moving out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t look at him, didn’t check him.
She’d seemed like a professional, but she acted like a psycho.
She was intently focused on the Man in the Suit.
That might just save Donnelly’s life. If he survived, he could get him back.
Save his life and throw his ass in jail forever.
Everything was cold. Everything hurt.
He had some notion he’d been somewhere warm, safe. And there had been fantastic sex …
Stay still, Nick. Stay still. Stay still.
He stayed still. He lived.
The End