 
### Fearless Leader

### by

### Tricia Owens

### Smashwords Edition

### Copyright 2012 Tricia Owens

### Read other titles by Tricia Owens at

<https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TriciaOwens>

Fearless Leader

Black steadied his gun arm atop the hood of the electro-craft. Rain dripped steadily from the tip of his weapon and it fell like a curtain of crystals down the front of his helmet. He was soaked. He'd been in the rain for hours. A part of his body registered that it was growing numb with cold. He told that part to shut up.

"This is Juxtapose City Unit Two!" he shouted above the incessant clap of the rain. "We have cut off all of the exits. There is nowhere for you to run. Step out slowly with your hands up."

Beside him, Jake, his second-in-command, shifted position. Though his knee sank down in a puddle Jake didn't make a sound, his gun a motionless black thing sprouting from his fists.

In the wavering light of a neon sign, Riddy Kingman, smalltime Bliss dealer and frequent thorn in the side of JC2, stepped carefully from beneath the awning of the pawn shop. The electric blue lighting made his slack features look like poorly molded blue clay. Black's jaw tightened when he saw the dealer's expression. Riddy was high on his own product.

"Riddy!" he called out, watching from the corner of his eye as Lucas darted from behind a pillar to the cover of a computerized directory, "put your hands up where I can see them. Step out further."

Slowly, clearly dazed, the man took a few faltering steps toward Black. He raised shaking arms.

"Down on your knees, Riddy!"

The drug dealer fell heavily to his knees, nearly toppling over onto the brilliantly sheened asphalt. A hundred colors danced across the pavement around him as the twinkling lights of Juxtapose City's club district lit up the rain puddles. The virtual-shield that extended from Black's helmet read 4:58 AM. The late hour and the heavy rain had ensured that there weren't any clubbers still out and he was grateful. Any earlier and the Blue Square as this area was known would be packed with kids.

Ahead, Lucas cleared the directory and cautiously approached the kneeling man. Max followed, his gun trained on the middle of the drug dealer's forehead. Once close enough, Lucas shoved Riddy to the ground, water splashing up around them. Holstering his weapon, Lucas swiftly began to search the fallen man while Max covered him.

The rain began to fall harder, beating like marbles against Black's shoulders. His virtual-shield was equipped with anti-fogging protection but it was growing increasingly difficult to see between the thick rivulets of water that coursed down. Still, he refused to move. Not even to shake his head to clear it of the offending water. His eyes were riveted to what his men were doing so he didn't miss it when Lucas jerked back from Riddy in alarm.

_No weapons_. The thought shot through Black's head as an afterthought. Riddy wasn't armed and he should be -- he was carrying two hundred tabs of illegal, high-priced Bliss.

"Lucas!" he shouted.

No one heard him over the explosion. It rocked the street, shattering the windows of the buildings around them and blowing out the glass of the electro-craft behind which Black and Jake crouched. Black flew backwards through the air as if a rocket had been launched into his stomach. He had no breath to cry out in pain. A single word flew through his head -- _stupid_ \-- before he hit the ground and there was nothing.

### ~~~~~

Three days later...

"Get up, you lazy fuck!"

"Lazy? I screwed your mother twice last night. How is that lazy?"

He dodged the first fist but was too groggy to miss the second. Calyx Starr fell back against the headboard, licking the blood that oozed from the corner of his mouth. "Maybe she didn't tell you?" he asked with a lazy shrug.

"Shut up and get your ass outta that bed!"

Calyx slid from beneath the hands that tried to 'help him' and rolled out of the other side of the bed. Losing his balance, his assailant who was dressed in the black uniform of Juxtapose City police fell face-first onto the rumpled sheets.

"Jumping into my bed already? We've only just met," Calyx drawled, laughing slightly. He tossed his waist-length, purple-tinged hair over his shoulders and moved to the closet. "What's the hurry this time? Thought you boys took your beauty sleep this time of night. God knows how much you need it."

"Just get your ass dressed. Captain wants you down in twenty minutes," the officer snapped.

"Fine." Calyx pulled out silver snakeskin pants and a black mesh top. Captain "Dick" -- as Calyx liked to call him -- hated when Calyx dressed in his street clothes so Calyx made it a point to do so as often as possible. He turned slightly, regarding the officer who remained in his bedroom. "Do you mind?"

The officer gave a leering grin, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not at all. Curious to see what the big deal is over the captain's psychic fucktoy." His eyes panned Calyx's slender figure. "So far I'm not impressed."

Calyx's eyes narrowed until they were shards of emerald. A predatory smile curved his lips. He dropped the clothes and began to pace around the bed that separated him from the other man. "Ah, but why do you assume that _I'm_ the one who takes it, hmm, sweetheart?" His eyes lit on the silver band adorning the man's ring finger. "Curious to see what the wife's not giving you?" Ignoring the man's widening eyes, Calyx slid up to him and ran a finger up a tense arm. "Wondering what it'd feel like to be on the receiving end of a good, hard--" he licked his lips, "-- billy club? I could show you--"

"Fuck off, you faggot!" the man choked out, stumbling backwards. His fingers scrabbled at the small flesh-toned patch stuck beneath his ear. He relaxed slightly upon finding it still in place and threw a disgusted look at Calyx. "Get dressed and get your ass down in the craft. Five minutes or I'm strapping you to the hood."

Calyx's laughter followed him down the narrow, dirty stairwell.

### ~~~~~

"If you can go I can go. You're not my mother."

Black glared at him and Jake could almost see flames flickering in the other man's multi-hued brown eyes.

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. He winced as the movement pulled at his sore ribs. "Come on, Black. You're the one with the concussion. I only got a few busted ribs. Nothing to do for those but let 'em heal themselves. Besides, we're only going to watch, right?"

"I don't need you to come along," Black said, moving past him to grab the keys to his motorcycle.

Jake watched him, eyes involuntarily drawn to the pull of black leather over the firm curve of the other man's ass. Black was hot. Jake would never dare say it aloud but it was true. Even moreso since Black didn't seem to care whether he attracted that kind of interest or not. And he attracted a lot. If he wasn't the one currently fucking Black Jake would have his hands full beating off the competition.

His cock stirred as Black bent to refasten a strap on his boot. He smiled ruefully. He'd never taken Black that way and was too afraid to ask, but... damn.

Black straightened and picked up his helmet. "You're staying here with the others," he told Jake, oblivious to the carnal thoughts he was inspiring.

Jake heard a touch of desperation creep into his voice. "Don't make me stay here, Black. Christ, it's like a wake here. It's driving me insane. I can't sit here thinking about _them_ anymore."

It was a low blow aimed at Black's guilty conscience but Jake was willing to fight dirty on this one. He honestly wouldn't be able to stay in the house of his dead teammates another hour. The ghosts of Lucas and Max were fresh and wailing. Jake knew he'd only end up shooting someone. Or himself.

He watched the leader of Juxtapose City's elite force pause at the door, helmet in hand. Black didn't turn and Jake barely heard him. "Come on, then."

"Great! I'll grab my jacket. Don't leave without me." Black said nothing, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

Jake dashed back into the house next door where the other two members of the team were playing a halfhearted game of poker.

"Are you going with him?" Bee asked, raising brown eyes from his handful of cards. His baby face, incongruous with his heavily muscled body, held concern.

Jake grabbed his jacket from where he'd tossed it over a chair. "Yep. I bullied him into it if you can believe."

Bee exchanged glances with his playing partner, a deceptively young-looking man whose severe blond buzz cut only added to his youthful appearance. "He must be worse off than we thought," Haney said worriedly.

Jake shrugged into the jacket, his own fears unvoiced. "Yeah, well, we're all a little fucked in the head after what happened to Lucas and Max. He's just more so with that concussion."

Bee's round eyes held his. "Keep an eye on him, Jake. Don't let him do anything stupid."

His teammates were speaking to him as if he actually had some influence over Black. Jake wanted to laugh. Sharing the man's bed didn't mean he shared Black's confidence. Jake had as much influence over their leader as the rest of them did: zilch. But to make the others feel better he nodded soberly. "I'll watch him." He pushed out of the room, breaking into a jog once he reached the front door. Just because Black had allowed Jake to accompany him didn't mean Black would wait.

### ~~~~~

The streets were dead this early in the morning. Only those with dubious employment dared Juxtapose City in the dark. Black's cycle whizzed through the empty streets like an arrow through shadows. Nothing stopped them, not even the traffic lights.

Jake was a large, warm comfort against his back in the chill of predawn but Black barely noticed. His thoughts were caught in a loop as though replaying a scene from a bad movie. But it wasn't a movie. What had happened three days ago had been real. Lucas and Max were dead.

Black should have seen it coming.

It was the third fatality for his team in less than a year. JC2 had the highest mortality rate of any Special Forces team in the department. It didn't matter that the previous death had been ruled the fault of the agent who had died. He had been Black's man, trained by Black's hand. If anyone failed in JC2 it was because he hadn't adequately prepared them.

Now they were down two men, a void he would have to fill quickly. Captain Dickerson used JC2 often and Black couldn't afford to be short-handed when the next call came. If Black's team wasn't ready the captain would use JC1. Black would sooner shoot himself in the foot than see a mission passed to the other team.

"Who're we going to evaluate?" Jake's deep voice came over the helmet's headset.

"Captain Dickerson recommended Wolf Sola. He's been used lately as a sniper but the captain says he'd be good on the point."

"Sola," Jake mused. "I heard he's something of an ass."

"You say that about everyone."

"Because pretty much everyone _is_ an ass who doesn't work with us," Jake replied authoritatively.

"Confidence or elitism?"

"Confidence," Jake replied firmly. His strong arms tightened around Black's waist. "Correction: I have confidence in our fearless leader." A hand delved beneath Black's leather jacket, fingertips slipping over his taut stomach and beneath the waist band of his pants. "Black can do anything," Jake intoned, his voice dropping. "So can we."

The familiar chant, one his team had jokingly come up with one afternoon after pulling off a spectacularly dangerous mission, irritated Black. The litany sounded like a mockery on the heels of what had just occurred. If Black truly could do anything two of his men wouldn't be dead.

He reached down and removed the questing hand from his pants, placing it firmly outside his jacket. "Stop it."

He knew Jake was glowering behind him but he didn't care. The man's emotional swings were beyond him. Jake was five years older than he was, yet Black invariably felt like the mature one of their relationship. He often questioned why he bothered.

He drove down a winding alley that grew progressively narrower. They turned a corner, the roar of the motorcycle echoing off the crumbling brick walls of the City-sponsored housing. Black switched his headset to the police's broadcast. Following the directions he heard, he stopped the motorcycle outside of a fire-darkened walkup. A large black van with one-way glass windows and no visible plates was parked in front.

Jake quickly dismounted, pulling off his helmet to study the van. "R&R?" he asked, surprised. "Didn't know Sola was with Recovery." His voice held a hint of grudging respect.

Black locked their helmets and checked his gun. "Captain Dickerson wouldn't recommend a sidewalk jockey."

The other man shrugged, quickly pulling out his own weapon. "Still... Recon and Recovery gets some pretty heavy shit. Some guys might not wanna leave it."

Black said nothing. He clipped on his headset and listened for a moment. "Third floor," he said.

Falling into a practiced motion that was second nature, the two men entered the stairwell and methodically made their way up, guns extended. Long attuned to each other's movements and signals, not a word was spoken as they carefully approached the target floor. They paused at the base of the third floor stairs while Black spoke quietly into his mouthpiece. They waited in the dark, the occasional sound of a radio or television set drifting down the hallways as residents opened and closed doors.

Black, already in a crouch in the shadows, shifted his sights when he caught movement above him.

"Black."

He straightened at the whisper. Jake stood as well. They climbed the rest of the stairs and found a man dressed in combat gear and holding an assault rifle standing on the landing. Black glimpsed the other man's face in the darkness. "McCahill."

The other man's eyes gleamed with anger. "You're the last person I want to see around here, let me tell you that," he growled. The leader of the R&R team motioned towards one of the hallways snaking away from the stairs. "We're moving in now. You came just in time for the show."

Black nodded and he and Jake followed a discreet distance behind McCahill as R&R's leader jogged quietly down the thinly carpeted hallway. Black knew the basics of the mission: a kidnapping victim was being held by three males in one of the apartments. The kidnappers had rapid-fire weapons but no positive count on how many. No ransom demands had been made but JCPD had tracked the kidnappers via their communication devices.

Dickerson had called in R&R to end it as quietly as possible.

McCahill motioned for them to slow up. Black and Jake approached cautiously until Black made out the black figures of the R&R team huddled together in preparation to ram the apartment door at the end of the hallway. Black halted, content to watch from where he and Jake stood. From their angle he would be able to see into the room when the agents rushed inside.

McCahill joined his team and hand signals were exchanged. There was an audible gathering of breaths before the team exploded into motion. Loud shouting intended to confuse and surprise superseded the men as they rammed into the apartment. Like a black snake, the train of men slid inside, flashes illuminating the room as guns, equipped with laser sighting, quickly took out the kidnappers.

It was smooth and graceful, not a single step or bullet wasted. Black was impressed. Through the doorway he watched the agents secure the apartment and subdue any subjects who hadn't been taken down by gunfire. If it had been JC2 in there there wouldn't have been anyone left alive to concern themselves with.

After the apartment had been cleared, Black and Jake carefully stepped inside. A small lamp had been turned on, illuminating the gray ring of gunpowder and smoke that circled the living room. Two of the perpetrators lay dead on the floor beside a sagging green sofa. A third man was pinned beneath the knee of an agent in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Sobs could be heard from one of the two bedrooms to the left. Blood painted a red arc across a poster of the Turandot Bridge pinned above the television set.

Six sets of eyes bright with the exhilaration of the recent gunfight jumped to Black and Jake as they entered. Gloved hands regretfully eased off of triggers.

"What's JC2 doing here?" one of the men demanded, lifting his helmet to wipe at his brow.

Black didn't answer, scanning the scene with a critical eye.

"Prick," muttered another agent.

Jake stepped slightly in front of Black, an imposing figure even in jeans and a leather jacket. "Got something to say, say it aloud."

The one who'd spoken last raised his voice. "I said what's JC2 come to do, fuck this up too?"

"Shut your fucking mouth or I'll teach you how it's done," Jake snarled

"Sure," sneered one of the other agents. "Just like in the Blue Square, huh? Great example."

"You little--"

"Sergeant." Black caught his teammate's arm, halting his forward surge. "This isn't the place." Ignoring his fuming teammate, Black looked to McCahill. "You going back to the station?"

McCahill shook his head, bitterness darkening his face. He knew why Black was here. "Not until later in the afternoon. Dickerson wants us to wait. He's coming down. Wants to do an on-scene interrogation." He spit on the stained carpet, making no qualms about showing his displeasure. "He wants you to wait for him. Says you can do your 'business' here."

Black hid his surprise, conscious of the other men's eyes upon him. He didn't know if the members of McCahill's team knew that he was here to lure away one of their own but he was aware of their animosity all the same. He had a reputation in the JCPD. It didn't make him many friends.

He mulled over Dickerson's order. On-scene interrogations were rare. They usually only occurred when there was a deadline of some sort. Ransoms and bomb-threats were the usual cases. As far as Black was aware there had been only one hostage victim involved and no demand for ransom. If the loud wailing coming from the bedroom was any indication she had definitely been found alive.

Not realizing that he did it, he rubbed at his temples, willing away the ache in his head that had faded to a dull throb since the day of the explosion. He sensed that something was up but his fogged mind, hazy from lack of sleep the last few days, refused to follow the trail.

"Black?"

Jake's questioning tone, shaded with concern, made him drop his hand. "Fine," he said to McCahill, "we'll wait for the captain here. I'll want to speak to Sola then."

"Assuming he wants to speak to you," McCahill grumbled, turning away. It was an empty threat. Black was the commanding officer of JC2, a group more important in the hierarchy of special teams than R&R. Sola didn't have a choice.

Paying little attention to the way McCahill's team glared at him, he walked to the first bedroom and stood in the doorway. A young woman in her mid-twenties was wrapped in a police issue blanket, sitting on the edge of a bed. At her feet kneeled an R&R agent who spoke to her in hushed tones. He was using speech-to-text on his PRU or Personal Retrieval Unit to record her responses.

Behind the kneeling man stood another, still helmeted, who watched the scene with a blank expression. He had the cold, hard look of a professional soldier. Short, clipped brown hair topped a tanned face sharpened with horizontal wrinkles. He was not an old man since special teams enforced age limitations, but his blue-grey eyes were grim like those of a seasoned veteran. From the file he had been given on the man Black knew that the agent was an avid hunter. He liked to release his pent-up aggressions by stalking prey in the country outside Juxtapose City.

Jake read the white lettering stenciled on the man's helmet. "Sola. Hell, he even looks like an asshole, Black."

"He's good at his job," Black replied.

"Good at bein' an asshole, probably."

Black's eyes roamed over the woman currently shivering beneath the blanket. He didn't recognize her and he knew from his briefing that she wasn't a high profile victim. Just an ordinary, if somewhat attractive woman caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. So why did this case require Dickerson to be here personally?

Black left Jake frowning at their potential new recruit and returned to the living room. McCahill's agents were busy rummaging through the apartment. The cleanup crew -- site investigators and representatives from the medical examiner's office -- wouldn't be called. Black didn't bat an eye as he watched the scene and its evidence being disturbed. This would be just another mission that would quietly disappear beneath the rug.

He leaned back against a wall, crossing his arms and watching the men work. Some occasionally sent him suspicious, uneasy glances, which he returned dispassionately. He was used to it. Since being given command of JC2 Black had fallen prey to the hungry bite of the police department's rumor-mill. Not that he ever listened or cared what anyone said of him behind his back but he was aware of it. He paid too much attention to the things that went on around him to be ignorant of his notoriety.

His ears picked up the sound of heavy tread outside in the hallway. He recognized it immediately. McCahill's men were alert as well, all eyes turning to the doorway and to the bulky man who filled it.

Captain Dickerson. The closest thing to a father that Black had ever known.

"Captain," he murmured, inclining his head slightly.

The older man smirked slightly at the show of respect. "How are you, Black? Don't see you much at the station these days."

Black was supposed to check-in weekly with Dickerson but had favored connecting to the captain's computer, instead. He would never admit it to the older man but the less he interacted with Dickerson, the better. He saw him enough as it was. Besides, everything Black needed to know about JC2's missions, past and present, could be found via computer. He didn't see the need for frequent face-to-face meetings.

"Been occupied," he replied, unapologetic. "McCahill says you're conducting an on-scene interrogation tonight?"

The captain chuckled, wiping a hand across his head. Beads of moisture had gathered on the thinning threads of gray-brown hair which Black suspected was due to a return of the rain that had abated last night. Dickerson's dark blue eyes, set within a strong face that had nevertheless succumbed to time and gravity, were amused as they regarded Black.

"Always so damned eager to get to the chase, eh, lieutenant?"

If they weren't in the company of R&R Black might have smiled. "Just curious, sir. Not a normal occurrence. I had expected to meet you back at the station to discuss the transfer of Sergeant Sola."

"Which, excuse me for saying, sir, is total bullshit!" McCahill said in a hissed undertone. "Sergeant Sola is _my_ man. He's been with R&R for over a year. He's an integral part of my team. Losing him would be a huge blow to us."

Dickerson raised a hand impatiently, apparently familiar with the other man's arguments. "Can it, McCahill. We've been over this already and I'm done with it. You can cull another member from one of the other teams. JC2 needs him and that's final."

"Fuckin' bullshit," McCahill mumbled again as he stalked away.

Black waited for him to leave before turning once more to the Captain. "Why are you here? I'd planned on doing this at the station. Not in front of McCahill's team."

Dickerson's eyes panned over the men of R&R, knowledgeable eyes cataloging their movements. "Sundhill is there," he said, nodding a greeting to one of the men. "Thought you'd prefer to avoid his interference."

Black frowned at the mention of JC1's team leader. Few people unnerved Black as much as the charismatic leader of their rival team. Still, Sundhill's presence at the station wasn't enough to make Black go out of his way to avoid the place. That would be conceding defeat of a sorts.

Dickerson seemed to understand this. "It's _my_ business I don't want him poking his nose in," the captain explained as he returned his attention to Black. "It's better handled here."

The captain was being deliberately vague which didn't surprise Black. Having been trained by the older man for the last seven years he had learned patience when faced with the man's circuitous methods. He fell into a frustrated silence as Jake emerged from the bedroom.

"Captain Dickerson, surprised to see you, sir."

"Sergeant Cole." Dark eyes swiftly took inventory of the younger man. "How're the ribs?" No condolences over lost teammates. Those had already been spoken and would not be repeated again.

"Healing fine, sir. Doctor says I'll be ready for full duty by the end of the week." Jake's eyes slid to Black, noting his silence. "Unexpected seeing you here, Captain. May I ask who's doing the interrogation? Is it McCahill?"

Dickerson nodded. "Partly. Someone's being brought in." His thin lips twitched as he glanced at Black. "You'll find this interesting, I think." He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a waxed paper envelope. He tossed it to Black. "Put these on. This should be fun."

Fun. Never a concept Black enjoyed hearing from his Captain. Dickerson's humor tended to stray to the perverse. Black had long ago learned to turn a blind eye. Every man was due his idiosyncrasies, he told himself. And Black owed the man too much to be judgmental...

He opened the small envelope and felt his insides turn cold.

"What is it?" Jake asked.

When Black said nothing the other man took the envelope from him and upended its content into his palm. Two small patches the size of coins slid out. They were flesh-toned and looked like Band-Aids. But they were nothing so innocent. Black recognized them immediately.

"Put them away," he said beneath his breath. He met Dickerson's amused gaze. "Since when does the JCPD supply its force with Bliss?" he demanded in a tight voice. "What the hell is this?"

"New issue on special cases." Dickerson watched him expectantly."We've started using an empath. Gratifying results, I must say."

Empath. The word and everything associated with it made Black grab the envelope back and clench it in his fist. Empaths and telepaths were steadily becoming Juxtapose City's most voracious consumers of Bliss. They used the serotonin-inducing drug to drown out the psychic feedback that they were unable to block on their own. Along with being the drug's most frequent users psypaths were rapidly becoming its next generation of dealers. With the exception of Riddy Kingman, JC2's last three run-ins had been with either psypath users or dealers.

"Psypaths on the police payroll?" Jake blurted incredulously. His handsome face reflected his distaste of that growing segment of society. "I can't imagine those freaks working alongside us. How do we trust them? They could be fucking with our heads."

Dickerson's look was indulgent. "The JCPD would never employ the services of telepaths. That's pure idiocy and I'm not an idiot." He paused, waiting for Jake's flush of contriteness. "We've started working with an empath. One. Call it a test run, although I'm pleased with the results so far."

Jake scratched his head, looking almost comical in his confusion if he weren't 200 pounds of solid muscle. "But why would any empath want to work for the police? Don't they need Bliss to keep themselves from going crazy?"

"Let me guess," Black said coolly, watching the spreading amusement on his captain's face, "you've given this man no choice. Either you've placed him in a position in which he can't refuse you or you've promised him something he can't resist." He opened his fist to reveal the Bliss tablets lying within his palm.

"Correct on both points." Dickerson extracted a slim electronic notepad from within his trench coat and handed it to Black. "He was arrested two months ago on four counts of possession. Combine that with intent to sell, prostitution, assaulting an officer and it's an easy twenty years in Hangway." He smiled. "Unless he chooses to play. Then it's no jail-time and we sweeten the deal with access to limited amounts of Bliss when he cooperates with us. Saying no," Dickerson said smugly, "was never an option for him. And now that he's worked with us on two cases he's as good as dead if he tries to step back into his former lifestyle. We can leak the details of his involvement in a heartbeat."

"So he's screwed," Black muttered beneath his breath, activating the notepad to scan the information there.

McCahill strode over, speaking quietly into his headset. He covered the mouthpiece and said to Dickerson, "They're on their way up. Guess Aines had some problems with him on the way."

"How unsurprising." Dickerson inclined his head at the tablets Black still held. "I suggest you put those on. They're only a few grams worth, a low enough dosage to blur your brain wave patterns so he can't sense you but not enough to affect your awareness. Trust me, you won't want him reading your emotions. He's rather--" Dickerson paused, searching for the right word, "-- intractable. Letting him get to you would be a mistake." He reached into his coat and pulled out several more waxed envelopes and walked to the other men to distribute them.

Black stared at the tabs in his hand. Dickerson knew how much Black didn't want to use the Bliss. The captain knew this better than any man alive and yet he was pushing this. A cold fury burned behind Black's eyes, aggravating his headache.

"You gonna give me one of those?"

Black held out his hand as though offering the other man poison. Jake removed the backing from one of the patches and stuck the tab behind his ear. As a member of JC2 Jake had experienced the effects of Bliss as part of his training. Using such a small amount didn't faze him. He hesitated though, when he noticed Black had not applied his patch.

"Black?"

Black shoved the unused tab into his pocket. "I don't need it."

"But he'll read you--"

"Let him."

Jake crossed his arms angrily. "If you weren't my commanding officer I'd tell you what a stupid, stubborn--"

"Sergeant Cole." Black's voice had taken on that intense control that signaled he was on the verge of explosion. "Your comments have been noted. That's enough."

"I think that concussion was more serious than any of us thought," Jake muttered just quietly enough that Black had to strain to hear him. "Knocked your last brain cell out of your ear."

Black tightened his lips and said nothing, dropping his attention to the electronic pad he held. The notepad contained the empath's file. Not an unusual police record. Various arrests for drug possession and being under the influence of a controlled substance, assault. Brought in twice for prostitution but both cases dismissed for lack of evidence... He checked the empath's stats. Twenty-six years old and no known family. Perfect for Dickerson's needs. Black was immersed in reading the file when loud voices from the hallway raised his head.

"Hurry up, you freak! Captain's gonna be pissed we're late. We should've been here ten minutes ago."

"As if I care about pleasing _him_."

The hairs on the back of Black's neck rose at the sound of that smooth, unconcerned voice. It wasn't alarm he felt, for he was well familiar with that particular sensation. This was something different. Not understanding his own reasons he backed along the wall, urging a confused Jake with him until they stood in the corner of the room nearest the door. Whoever entered would have to turn to see them, providing Black with the advantage.

A tall, slender figure stepped through the apartment's doorway. Black quickly scanned him, registering black boots over skin-tight silver pants and a sheer, long-sleeved black top that barely covered the midriff -- club wear; he'd seen similar outfits often enough in the Blue Square. Had the empath been dragged from the middle of a club? Slightly confused, Black's eyes traveled up and took in the waist-length blond hair so pale that it was nearly white. It was tinted purple at the ends. He hadn't the chance for a more detailed study for suddenly the man turned around-- ignoring everyone else in the room -- and looked directly at Black.

Feral green eyes caught and held him like an insect pinned to a wall. Full lips curved into a surprised, delighted smile as they studied Black as blatantly as he himself had been looked over. In the abrupt silence caused by his appearance the man purred, "Hello, Darkness. What a pleasant surprise."

The eyes of McCahill's men shot to him accusingly. Black recovered from his temporary shock and returned the feline stare. "You must be Calyx Starr."

Long lashes swept down lazily, half lidding the intense eyes. "Mmm, and you must be bold. Bold to not hide from me like these other boys. Or are you simply stupid? Think you can block out an empath?" Starr regarded him from beneath his lashes, a still air about him as though he were listening to something. "No one can hide all of _that_ darkness, sweetheart." His smile widened. "Though you're trying."

"What the fuck?" Jake mumbled.

The voice of his teammate broke the odd spell Black had started to fall under. "Bliss is a controlled substance within the limits of Juxtapose City," he told the empath. His eyes noted the fine tremors that ran the length of the other man's slender hands. "Being a cop, I'm sure you understand why I don't feel comfortable taking it." He knew his disapproval was patent _._

Starr didn't appear to care. "Yes, but all these other boys are JCPD's finest also and I can't feel any of _them_." His verdant gaze panned the sneering faces watching him. "Maybe they're just lapdogs, hmmm? Doing whatever their master tells them to." His eyes returned to Black. "Or maybe they're just not as reckless as you. You like danger, sweetheart. I can feel it."

"Give up the head games, Calyx," Dickerson growled, emerging from the bedroom. He threw a disapproving look at Black before facing the empath. Starr's chin rose slightly, a hint of stubbornness in the action. Dickerson's eyes swept the taller man, smirking slightly at the minute lines of stress on the other man's coolly beautiful face. "How you feeling, Calyx? Got any... cravings?"

Starr was in need of a hit. Black recognized all of the signs. Dickerson must keep the empath clean before an interrogation so his senses would be clear enough to give a good reading.

"Just an urge for a nice hot bath," Starr replied snidely, making it obvious whose contact made him feel the need to bathe.

Dickerson reached up, chasing the other man when he leaned away and grabbed a handful of purple-tinged hair. "Maybe while you're there you can wash this shit out. You look like even more of a freak than you are."

Black frowned when he saw the familiarity with which his captain touched the empath. It wouldn't be the first time Dickerson had taken liberties with hookers and their ilk but Black continually hoped that the man would give up his indiscretions and stick to his wife. It would make it a hell of a lot easier to defend the man.

The officer who had brought Starr in sidled up to Jake. "Fucktoy," he whispered knowingly.

Black's stomach clenched. Wonderful.

Starr reached up and yanked his hair free of the captain's grasp. "Captain Dickhead, as much as I loathe-- excuse me, _enjoy_ \-- the feel of your hand upon me I'd rather get this over with so I can return to my dreams of firebombing police headquarters." He smiled sweetly. "Just dreams, of course."

Dickerson chuckled, stepping back. He threw a glance at Black to ensure he was watching then waved a hand at the surviving kidnapper who sat propped against a wall. "Yes, let's get this over with. There are many things _I_ would rather be doing in bed also."

Starr ignored his innuendo and looked down at the handcuffed man. The kidnapper was sallow-skinned with ragged brown hair. He was young enough to still have pimples. R&R had roughed him up some but the black eyes that returned the empath's stare were bright with challenge. Starr nodded, "He's fine. Get on with it."

McCahill stepped up and knelt beside the bound man. "What's your name, kid?"

Silence.

McCahill pulled out his handgun and pressed it to the kidnapper's forehead. "You're not dealing with the usual police here, kid. Notice how there's nobody here taking evidence samples? This ain't going to court. You either answer my questions or I shoot you in the head and toss you into the Turandot Bay. Captain here won't care either way."

The man visibly swallowed before answering in a scratchy voice, "Kelpy. Eric Kelpy."

"Truth," Starr said, sounding bored.

McCahill lowered the gun. "Smart move, Eric. Now tell me who set you up to kidnap the lady?"

Kelpy's eyes darted to the empath nervously. "N-no one. It was Skiv's idea," he said with a nod towards one of the dead kidnappers.

Starr rubbed at his eyes. "Lie."

Kelpy looked at the empath in desperation, obviously realizing the futility of resisting. "If -- if I tell you, I'm a dead man. They'll send someone to kill me in jail. I won't last--"

"You're dead here too, if you don't tell the truth," McCahill interrupted. The leader of R&R shared a look with Dickerson as though they had discussed this possibility already. McCahill raised his gun again. "You're dead no matter what, Eric," he said in a softer voice. "The moment you kidnapped Lord's mistress you started digging your own grave. You know that."

Black hid his surprise. So the woman in the bedroom wasn't just a nobody-- she was the lover of one of Juxtapose City's most powerful Bliss dealers.

Kelpy let out a quiet sob and dropped his head, sweat-matted hair hanging over his face. "I didn't have a choice. They were gonna kill my sister--"

He started to cry then, his voice loud in the silence of the room. Black ignored him to watch Starr. The empath was rubbing the back of his neck in agitation, shifting from foot to foot. The tremors Black had seen earlier had progressed to visible shaking. "Hurry up," Black thought he heard him mutter.

McCahill patted the kidnapper's raised knee. "You know what's going to happen now, don't you, Eric? When we take you in whoever it is who hired you is going to think you ratted, even if you didn't. You and I both know that they'll kill you but they might take out your sister first just to teach you a lesson."

"No!" the handcuffed man wailed.

"You know it's true. You're dead either way it's just who you take with you that matters now. Give us a name, Eric. We'll put him in a bag and send him after you."

The young man sniffed and raised his head, his helpless state beginning to sink in. "And my sister?"

McCahill shifted. "We'll protect your sister. You, well... we'll make it quick."

Execution by JCPD's hands or risk a slow, painful death at the hands of the goons of whoever had initially hired him. Kelpy knew his choices were limited.

Black looked to Starr, curious to see if Kelpy's decision would be reflected in the empath. It was. The strained expression on Starr's face melted to a mixture of relief, sadness and fear.

"Volton," Kelpy whispered, his tears drying. "It was Volton's men who hired us. Said they didn't want us to kill her just hold onto her, make sure Lord knew we had her. Didn't make any sense."

McCahill looked up at Starr. The empath nodded but he looked vaguely ill. "He's telling the truth."

McCahill smiled slightly at the young kidnapper. "Good boy." He grabbed Kelpy's arm and pulled him to his feet. The young man allowed himself to be dragged into the second bedroom, his face expressionless, already resigned to his fate.

"Close the door," Dickerson called after them.

After the door had shut, Dickerson reached into his pocket. Starr watched him hungrily, his fixation almost animalistic. The captain tossed him a small tube which Starr immediately tore the cap off of. A roll of narrow paper slid out, covered with rows of small pink tablets. Black felt his mouth twisting as he watched the empath peel off a tablet and slide it quickly beneath his tongue. The look that came over Starr's face was one of absolute relief. Of bliss. The odd thought shot through Black's head that this must be what the empath looked like when he was about to orgasm. Black quickly banished the stray thought.

"Freak," Dickerson muttered, laughing quietly. He rejoined Black and led him outside into the hall. His expression was one of supreme satisfaction. "So what do you think of my little experiment? Impressive, wouldn't you say? We'll never have to worry about lying sacks of shit ever again. Not with him around."

"He's a drug addict," Black replied, unable to hide his disgust. "How reliable can he be?"

"I told you. He can't go back to the streets and we're giving him enough drugs to keep him sane. He has no choice. As screwed up in the head as psypaths are Calyx is street-smart. He knows what's up. He'll cooperate for as long as we need him to."

Black didn't want to talk about the empath anymore. Seeing the blatant use of-- worse, the _supplying_ of \-- Bliss in his presence made him sick inside. "It's your show. You know what you're doing."

Dickerson shook his head, a secretive smile upon his face. "No, this is _your_ show. I'm assigning him to JC2."

He should have known. The moment Dickerson had brought up the subject of an empath Black should have guessed something like this was up the captain's sleeve. Dickerson may have saved Black from an early death in Hangway, given him command of JC2 at the unheard-of age of 23, but he still had a twisted streak that compelled him to occasionally punish Black. Just small reminders that Black owed him big time. Of course, Black could never argue. He knew his debt as well as Dickerson did.

That didn't mean he couldn't put up some resistance.

"My team is in tatters right now," he argued, keeping his voice pitched low so Jake wouldn't overhear. "Besides dealing with the loss of two men my team will have to incorporate new members. Now you want to throw in an empath? JC2 is in the middle of a major transition. Don't make me have to deal with this on top of it."

"But you can handle it," Dickerson replied confidently. A touch of pride-- not for Black, but for Dickerson's own decision-making skills -- came over the older man's face. "Do you think you'd be leading JC2 right now if you couldn't cut it? Do you have any idea how much pressure I fended off when I gave you the team? But I dealt with it because there's no one better for the job, Black. Consider this one more way to prove that my faith in you is well-founded." He clapped a fatherly hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Calyx won't give you any problems, not if he wants his Bliss. And you know you have my backing should you require extra force to keep him in line."

Black looked away from the meaning in the captain's eyes but the words followed him. "You can have your fun with him too, Black. He knows his place. He won't fight you. Might be a nice diversion from Cole every now and then, hmmm? The freak's got a talented mouth when you shut him up."

Black didn't want to hear this. "I'll take him on but he won't be an active member," he bit out even though he knew he had no leverage in this fight.

Dickerson shook his head. "You may start him off slow but I want him to be an active member of JC2 eventually." He raised a hand to fend off Black's protest. "He's from the street; he knows how to take care of himself. Right now we're allowing him a faze whip for personal protection but he's good enough with a gun to be rated if he were ever tested. I trust you to train him to the standards of the other agents."

This was ridiculous. Black wanted to storm out right now. A nice fantasy but it would never happen. Black was as good as a dog on Dickerson's leash.

"Fine," he grated out. "Starr and Sola. Thank you, sir."

Dickerson ignored the hint of sarcasm. "Go speak to Sergeant Sola. I'll have Calyx waiting for you outside."

Black watched his captain walk down the dirty hallway to the stairwell. He needed aspirin badly. His head felt like it was going to explode. He turned and braced his hands against the peeling wallpaper of the hallway, shutting his eyes as the implications of what he'd just agreed to struck his brain like a mallet. What a mess.

He didn't jump when large hands wrapped around the back of his neck and began to carefully knead the taut muscles. He'd heard Jake approach. He'd also heard the muffled thump of a silenced weapon being discharged from the bedroom-- the end of Eric Kelpy.

"How's your head?" the larger man asked.

"Do me a favor and cut it off," Black muttered. "It's more pain than it's worth right now."

"You really need some rest, Black. I'll bet you haven't slept since-- for a while now." Strong fingers dug in, making Black bite back a moan of pain-pleasure. "So what's up with that little scene we just saw?"

Jake's hands encouraged him to submit to the massage but Black knew he didn't have time for the indulgence. Ignoring the other man's snort of irritation he shrugged off the touch and turned around. "Volton and Lord are at each other again, nothing new. I doubt there's much more to this."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Not that. I'm talking about the psychic freak in there. What's his name?"

"Calyx Starr," Black murmured, feeling the weight of Dickerson's demands hanging like a stone around his neck. "He's joining us along with Sola."

Silence from Jake. He was too stunned to speak. After a long moment, he sputtered, "Are you joking?"

Black firmed his expression. "We'll speak to Sola now, and then you'll wait for me while I deal with Starr."

"Jesus Christ. This is nuts. The captain's fucktoy--"

Black fisted a hand in the larger man's jacket, shoving him against the wall. Despite the differences in height and weight Jake looked suitably intimidated. "If I ever hear you say that again I'll write you up, Jake. He's going to be a member of the team from now on. So deal with it."

Jake held up his hands. "Sorry, Black. It's just-- it's a surprise, you know?"

Black felt suddenly very, very weary. The stress of his fallen teammates and now this was starting to get to him and shorten his admittedly volatile temper. He released other man. "I know," he muttered, backing away. "Just go with me on this, Jake. This is difficult enough as it is."

The rare admittance of need got through to the other man as threats never would. "Sure, Black. You know I'll back you." Jake started to reach for other man's chin but when Black tensed he dropped his hand. "Let's go talk to Sola, huh? I wanna know if that guy's as big an asshole as he seems."

Shaking his head, Black followed the other man back into the apartment. As they headed to the bedroom where the victim was being kept, Starr and Officer Aines passed them on the way out.

"We'll be waiting outside," Aines told them, a hand on the empath's arm.

Starr threw Black a quick smirk, all visible evidence of stress erased from his body. "Don't keep me waiting, sweetheart."

"Shut up and keep going," Aines snarled, pushing him forward.

"God help us," Jake mumbled, continuing on to the bedroom.

Black followed but could not help a glance back. Green eyes caught him, amusement bright in their depths. Shit.

"Naughty, naughty," the empath called out before being shoved outside into the hallway.

This, Black decided, was going to be a nightmare.

### ~~~~~

"Give me a cigarette."

Officer Aines snorted where he leaned against the police craft. "It's my last one. No fucking way."

Calyx smiled. "Give it to me or I'll find something else of yours to suck on." He let his voice drip with innuendo. "Or maybe that's why you're holding out, hmmm, officer? Just because you're married doesn't mean you can't experiment."

The nearly empty packet skidded across the ground at Calyx's feet.

He chuckled. "Thank you."

"Why I'm a fucking baby-sitter to a freak..."

Calyx closed his ears to the familiar rant. Aines was painfully unoriginal. If Calyx had actually had a place worth escaping to it would have been worth it to teach the idiotic officer how inept he truly was. As it was, Calyx had nowhere to go so he was stuck enduring this bore's ravings. Calyx sighed. At least he had encountered one person in the police department who looked to provide some entertainment. Assuming Calyx ever saw him again.

It looked as though he might. Calyx heard his voice coming down the stairs. Anticipation urged him to push away from the crumbling brick building but he stayed where he was in his casual slouch. His long legs were crossed at the ankles, pushing his hips forward, and his shirt rode up just slightly, baring the pale skin of his stomach. He knew the image he presented. It was deliberate.

"-- just saying I told you he would be an ass, Black. You're gonna have to keep a close eye on him so he doesn't go ballistic."

Black. What a hilariously appropriate name for his new source of interest.

The two men, who unlike the rest who had gathered in the dingy apartment upstairs were dressed in civilian clothes, stepped into the light overhanging the front door of the walkup. The taller man was beefy with muscle. He had light brown hair cut short on the sides and light-colored eyes that Calyx hadn't really noticed enough to determine their color. A good-looking man, though not one to look at twice.

Unlike his companion.

"Hello, Darkness," Calyx said again when the two men's heads swung his way.

His interest frowned. "The name is Black. You will address me by that or 'sir' if we are on a mission."

"Ah, yes. Mission. Captain Dick mentioned something about that." Calyx took a drag on the cigarette, knowing the brief flare of light would highlight his cheekbones in the dark. "Seems I'm being passed to you like a bad cold. What is it I'm being required to call you 'sir' for?" He smiled slyly. "Though if that's what gets you off I'll do it anytime you like. _Sir._ "

The man called Black didn't react, simply turned to his large friend and said, "Give us a moment. I'll meet you at the bike."

Calyx grinned at the glare of warning sent his way by the bigger man. Overprotective teammate? Or lover?

"C'mon, Aines. Let's get some fresh air."

Calyx's watchdog was all too eager to scamper away. Left alone, the empath allowed his eyes to drink their fill of the other man. Dark, yes. This man had registered on his brain like a shadow in a white room. The second he had stepped into the apartment Calyx's senses had been overwhelmed with darkness -- grief, guilt, anger. A heady cocktail made all the more intriguing by the iron will that tried to dampen it all.

"You've lost someone, haven't you?" Calyx asked, blowing a ring of smoke.

No flinch from those gorgeous brown eyes. Chocolate sin, Calyx thought with an inward sigh.

"Two of my teammates," Black replied, shoving his hands into his leather jacket. He didn't look defensive, merely stood there. "They were part of JC2. My team. Ever hear of it?"

Calyx couldn't help his laughter. Of course he'd heard of it. He lived on the streets didn't he? Or least he had. JC2 was like the bogeyman. Get sloppy, screw up a deal and JC2 might get you. Kill the wrong person, don't watch your back and JC2 will be there. Calyx was well aware that the so-called 'special team' was backed by private citizens and did not answer to Juxtapose City's police department despite its outward claims to the contrary. JC2 was a rogue outfit as quiet and deadly as a knife in the dark. How appropriate that its leader was the very embodiment of shadow.

Ash tumbled from the end of Calyx's cigarette as he studied the dark-haired man. Was it normal for a man in Black's position to be as young as he appeared to be? Calyx had only been 'working' with the JCPD for a few months but he knew this had to be an oddity.

"I'm being asked to join _you_?" 'Asked' was a loose term. Calyx knew he either joined JC2 or Captain Dickerson would slap him around some and then force him to anyway. "I'm flattered."

"Don't be," Black replied curtly. "You're more likely to be killed joining us than if you continued with what you're doing now. I'm giving you the option to back out now."

Calyx arched an elegant eyebrow. "Captain Dickwad didn't mention anything about having a choice in the matter."

Black frowned. Calyx wished for a second that he hadn't taken the Bliss. He would love to know what was putting that look of consternation on the other man's face. "It's my team so it's my call. In or out, Starr?"

Yes, Black was definitely younger than any ranking officer Calyx had seen but he also realized why. He didn't act young. He acted painfully mature, so much so that the empath doubted whether the other agents even realized how young Black was. In that gorgeous, lithe body was a control that made Calyx's jaw ache. Intimidating really. Except that Calyx had seen what the others hadn't. He'd seen underneath.

"If I join your team," Calyx began, dropping the cigarette and letting it smolder on the pavement, "will I be _your_ plaything instead of Captain Dickhead's?"

A muscle jumped in Black's jaw. Oh, so he didn't like the mention of his captain's indiscretions, did he? Again, Calyx regretted the psychic deadening effects of the Bliss.

"No."

Calyx straightened away from the wall and stepped into the circle of light that held the other man.

"Not even if I want to be?" He was only an inch taller than Black but the boots gave him an added advantage. He looked down at the younger man and ran a hand up the black leather jacket. "I think I wouldn't mind being your plaything. You strike me as the kinky type. You could cuff me to your bed if you wanted." When Black didn't respond he cooed, "Or I could cuff _you_ , if you prefer that instead. Would you like me to take control, sweetheart? Sometimes all of that fearsome responsibility can be a bit too much to handle. What do you say? Want to be _my_ plaything?"

Nothing. Calyx might have sighed in disappointment if it hadn't been for that brief glimpse into the man earlier. Outwardly, Black was good. He gave nothing away. But no one could hide from an empath. No one could hide from Calyx Starr.

His body stirring with the challenge, he took a step back. "Alright. I'll join you, Black. I get the feeling it may be fun working with you and your boys."

"This isn't about fun," Black told him, eyes narrowing.

Calyx smiled, amused by his stubbornness."Ah, but maybe it should be. I'll see what I can do for you, sweetheart."

No response but that didn't upset Calyx in the slightest. He had the advantage here in every way possible. All that was left now was to prove it. He had a feeling working with Black and the boys of JC2 might be more fun than he'd had in a long, long time.

### CHAPTER ONE

The nightmare again. It was bitterly easy to recognize it now: the unlit hallway with the familiar pansy wallpaper, the sickeningly sweet scent of the gardenia air freshener. _The_ nightmare. Even while immersed in it his dream-self protested that it had been weeks since he'd last endured this. What had brought it back? Why now? No one answered.

He was walking down the hallway, hemmed in by jittery bodies that eagerly herded him forward. Under the cloying aroma of gardenia were other smells: a sticky and sharp scent like copper, the acrid smoke of gunpowder. Below it all like the bottom note of a perverse perfume was the strange lemony tang of addiction as it sweated through skin pores. In this nightmare it was all one big stink. He'd walked this hall a hundred times and inhaled the same gagging smells. He knew what lay ahead and it never changed.

When he entered the bedroom they were kneeling on the carpet just like always. The man was dressed in a white T-shirt and blue striped pajama bottoms. She was wearing a plain cotton nightgown. _A gift_ , said a whisper in his mind. He looked down at their bandana-covered faces; he listened to their muffled sobs beneath the cloth. He knew who these people were. Their faces haunted his life. But knowledge could do nothing to stop this dream from unfolding.

Two shots, clean and quick. Their blood pooled on the carpet, seeping towards him. He tried to back away but the blood followed him. He began to panic, _knowing_ what was going to happen next. Memory didn't disappoint.

Familiar, hated hands settled on his shoulders, holding his struggling body still for the encroaching wetness. "Don't be ashamed," a raspy, disembodied voice spoke from the air. "Now everything you want is yours. And you're all mine..."

Hands slid down the front of his chest in a sensual caress, pulling at his shirt. He fought against the grip, his stomach roiling. He tried to yank the hands away but his grip was too slippery. When he looked down to see why he discovered that his own hands were stained with blood.

The black wetness was everywhere, soaking his clothes, his face -- he could taste it in his mouth when he screamed. He watched as the bandanas were removed from the two bodies lying on the carpet. He knew whom he would see. He didn't want to, shaking his head around a silent scream of denial.

But when the cloths were removed his heart stopped. Not the same nightmare. This one was even worse. The dead faces of his teammates -- Max and Lucas -- stared up at him.

_"Don't be ashamed. Now everything you want is yours."_ A chuckle sounded near his ear. _"And you're all mine..."_

The dream shattered as Black shot upright in bed. A scream welled in his throat, seconds from bursting free. He clenched his jaw to hold it in. Gasping, his first frantic instinct was to look to the bed beside him. A shaky breath that would have surprised his teammates fluttered past his lips. The sheets next to him were empty just as they should be, the way he made certain they were. No one -- _no one_ \-- would ever know that the leader of Juxtapose City's most powerful elite police force woke up some mornings with a fear in his heart that left him shivering in the sheets. No one would ever know. He would sooner die.

He ran a hand down his face. Not yet six in the morning. His alarm would go off in another four minutes. He turned off the alarm and sat in the sheets for a moment, ruthlessly sweeping the last remnants of the nightmare from the corners of his mind. Today was an important day for JC2; he needed to be clear-headed and composed. Today they were integrating two new members. One of them was Calyx Starr.

He slid from the bed and began to dress because he needed the distraction of movement. He pulled on blue sweatpants and a JCPD T-shirt. He tugged a windbreaker over his shoulders before kneeling to tie on running shoes. The laces shook, refusing to cooperate. He stared at his trembling hands a moment before curling them into fists. _Not now_ , he told himself angrily.

He went to the connecting bathroom and ran the tap. Cool water flowed over his cupped hands before he splashed his face with it. _Go away_ , he demanded, throwing more water in his face as if he could dash away the memories. _Don't make me remember_.

When he raised his dripping face and looked in the mirror he didn't like what he saw. He looked his age. Being the youngest team leader in JCPD's history, that was not a good thing. Water dripped from his soaked brown bangs -- too long, he reflected distantly -- and spilled onto his pale cheeks. He looked like his mother. That's what he had been told. The wide brown eyes \-- currently sunken from lack of restful sleep -- were definitely hers. Her mouth -- yes, generous lips now tightened to a pale slash. Definitely her cheekbones. But the rest was his father's from pure luck rather than genetics -- from the skin that tanned so easily to the firm, stubborn jaw. The chin was different, new. It kept him from being taken too lightly, from veering into "pretty".

A face that was not his. It stared back at him looking too tired, too strained with the attempt to be taken seriously. It was a face that creased easily into an expression of frustration. There were so many things he could have done differently, so many ways he could have spared more lives. The thoughts took their toll on days like this. Black had to turn away.

When he jogged downstairs he was met with a silence normally filled with the sounds of his teammates. The eerie quiet that met him now had pervaded the house for almost a week. This morning he hadn't the strength to break the silence on his own. He let himself out of the house without a sound.

The air was crisp and redolent of smoke and the smell of burning leaves and wood. Fall was fast approaching but for now it was like any other early morning in Juxtapose City. A cold, harsh sun was slowly burning away the last traces of run-off fog from the bay. The air was still. He burst through the white clouds of his own breath as he began to run down the empty street of their neighborhood.

Lucas used to complain that they lived in the ghetto.

"For all the money they spend on our equipment you'd think they could afford to get us digs in a decent part of town," the agent had grumbled. He'd made the mistake of parking his electro-craft on the street and woken up the next morning to find it vandalized. "I mean, come on -- we're _important_."

It had been a hollow complaint, Black remembered. Private citizens provided JC2 with a housing arrangement to be envied. Yes, the buildings he currently ran past might have seen better days -- some were failing, all were old and had never been remodeled. But JC2's building had been discreetly renovated. It looked as old as its neighbors on the outside but inside the connecting wings had been gutted and customized to provide his team with everything they needed.

Jumping a gutter and briefly skirting a sidewalk, Black wondered if Lucas would have been similarly disappointed with his funeral service scheduled for tomorrow. Having attended one such service already, Black knew it would be a simple affair with a quick speech attended by only a few higher-ranking officers in the department and the survivors of his team.

Survivors. That's all that it came down to, didn't it? Whoever was left standing got to pick up the pieces and try to continue on. He didn't want to be the last one left.

Don't think about it. Think about... Calyx Starr.

It was a distraction that almost sent him stumbling over a hubcap that was lying on the side of the street. An empath for JC2... What was Captain Dickerson thinking? If Black allowed himself such indulgences he would say that Starr would end up being his personal albatross, his bane. But that was thinking foolishly. He told himself that nothing could bother him if he didn't want it to. It was all a matter of control: controlling Starr, controlling his own reactions to the empath. And, yes -- controlling the Bliss that he and the others would have to use when dealing with Starr. That last would be the most difficult.

So difficult in fact, that if it had been any other person besides Dickerson demanding this Black would have told that person to take his empath and shove it. But this was Dickerson's game and Black was his star player. The man had done Black a favor no one else in this world would have done. Questioning when his debt to the older man would be repaid was a waste of time. Black rounded a street corner, picking up his pace. He could never satisfy that debt. Ever. Black owed Dickerson his life. Whatever Dickerson wanted of him, whatever the captain decided he wanted Black to do for him, Black would do it. It wasn't a question.

He came to the two-mile stretch of street that was shadowed by the overhead tram that ran the length of Juxtapose City. He usually took note of the time at this point, setting personal goals each time he ran this circuit. Today he ignored his watch and simply ran as fast as he could, forgetting about pacing himself or the fact that there was another mile to go after he finished this part. He knew he would make it home if it killed him. For now he wanted to run so hard he could think of nothing else but his breath laboring in and out of his lungs, of the asphalt turning to fire beneath his feet, of the heavy swing of his arms by his chest as he reached for that unattainable relief from his thoughts--

Bliss. Starr.

You're all mine.

Desperation made him push harder, faster. When he'd passed the liquor store that marked the end of the two miles he kept up his punishing pace. His lungs and throat screamed at the stab of the cold air. His thighs burned. Physical pain he could handle. Strength and sheer will allowed one to endure almost anything. It was the other he didn't want...

He pushed himself faster. Faster and faster until he rounded the last corner and the familiar grey square of JC2's housing complex burst upon him like an exuberant friend.

Gasping, he slowed to a walk, his legs trembling. He raised his arms above his head as he strained for breath. His face was so hot not even the sweat drying on his skin could cool him. He almost smiled at the blankness of his mind. Almost, until he saw the figure sitting on the steps of Black's building.

He braced his hands on his hips and eyed Jake warily. "You're up early," he panted, pausing on the sidewalk.

His teammate and sometime lover shrugged. He was wrapped in a heavy coat with jeans underneath and ragged sneakers on his feet. "So are you." Jake panned the other man with his eyes, taking note of Black's harsh breathing. "Hard run today, huh?"

Black knew where this was going. "Can it, Jake," he warned as he bent over his knee to stretch.

"You only try to break the sound barrier when you're upset over something," the other man continued, unfazed by the warning. "Is it the new guys joining today?" In a quieter voice he added, "Is it Starr?"

"I said leave it alone," Black snapped, his hard-fought equilibrium starting to waver.

"Oh, no you don't," Jake shot back, standing up. "I can see those wheels turning, telling you to push me away. Not gonna happen, Black. I'm on your side, remember? I'm not trying to weaken you I'm trying to help you. You keep it all bottled up like you do and you're gonna explode one of these days. JC2's leader can't afford that risk."

Black stormed up to the other man and though Jake was taller and currently stood on a step above him Black's glare was no less powerful for the height disadvantage. "Don't you dare threaten me with losing the team!" he snarled. "Just because you and I fuck once in a while doesn't give you any rights to me, Jake."

Hurt made the other man twist his lips. "That's right; I'm just a convenient lay. I don't own any part of you, do I?"

You're all mine.

The voice from Black's nightmare drifted on the cool morning air, sending chills over his skin. He took a breath and unclenched his fists, forcing his body to unwind from the tight spool Jake had wrapped it around.

"This isn't something I want to talk about," he muttered, his tone forestalling more conversation.

He waited for the man to step away but Jake wouldn't budge, daring Black to push him out of the way. Black looked up into the other man's golden eyes. _Fight me_ , Jake's eyes demanded. But Black knew better than that. He deflated the situation by sliding sideways to slip around Jake. As he let himself into the building he heard his older teammate sigh in defeat.

He left the door open for Jake even though the man didn't live there. JC2's housing consisted of two main buildings shaped into a U around a central courtyard. A narrow catwalk ran over the courtyard, connecting the largest bedrooms of each building. Black lived in one of those bedrooms in the first building the guys had nicknamed the Clubhouse. Jake, Bee, and Haney lived in the second building -- the Dugout -- and it was Jake's bedroom at which the catwalk ended. Across town, JC1 lived in identically planned housing.

Jake followed Black into the kitchen. Black noted that Jake seemed uneasy at how quiet the Clubhouse was now that Lucas and Max were gone. He sincerely hoped the older man wouldn't comment on it.

"When I provoke you you're supposed to take it out on me, you know. That's the healthy thing to do."

Black opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of clean water. "Jake--"

The other man raised his hands. "I know, I know. Shut the hell up. You're doing a kick ass job of leading us and all I seem to want to do is rattle you to prove that you're human. What's the point, huh?"

Black knew but he wasn't about to voice it. Jake was growing too attached. He took a healthy swallow of water, studying the light-haired man as he did so. When he lowered the bottle again he met Jake's eyes. "I think you and I should take a break." He didn't temper it with 'for a while', or 'for the time being'. He didn't pull punches that way.

Jake dropped his eyes to the countertop, shaking his head slowly as a bitter smile curved his lips. "Yeah, fuck you too, Black. Alright, you want a break from me? You got it. After all, you've got Dickerson's toy coming in today. I'm old news."

Black stared back. "Don't ever say that again."

Jake looked up at him and this time his smile was almost sad. "You know what the funny thing is? I know why you're doing this and it has nothing to do with me _or_ Starr, does it? It's all those fucked up notions you have about responsibility and duty and all that shit. I've got news for you: Max and Lucas aren't dead because of you. If something happens to me or any of the other guys in the future I doubt it will be because of you either. We can take care of ourselves. _I_ can take care of myself."

Black's eyes didn't waver. "I trust you to do your job. I just don't want you to forget that that's why you and I are here. We're not here for each other; we're here for the job."

"So it's wrong that I care if you get hurt," Jake returned evenly. "You're saying it's not part of my job to care whether or not I think you're pushing yourself too hard even if it might endanger the team."

Black didn't blink. "Your job is to put your life in my hands. My job is to see that I don't lose it. If you question my ability to lead this team you know you are always welcome to inform Captain Dickerson of your opinion."

Jake smiled bitterly. "And get myself canned or demoted to street duty? No thanks."

Black didn't bother refuting the assumption. It was probably true.

Their eyes met in the ensuing silence. Jake eventually sighed in capitulation. "Stressed or not you can still handle JC2 better than anyone I know. I don't want you to lose it. That wasn't my point in coming over here." He moved to the front door and paused with it open. "You take care of all of us," Jake said quietly, "when are you going to let any of us take care of you?"

Black tried to think of things he could say to make Jake understand that such concerns weren't needed or deserved. He tried to think of ways of explaining the unexplainable. The front door shut before he could come up with a single thing. He looked down at his hand and studied its fine tremor. He could never reveal those secrets to anyone. Not in a million years.

### ~~~~~

"Please, God, tell me it's Haney who made breakfast."

Bee raised his butter knife threateningly. "I can kill you with this in three seconds." He dipped the weapon into the communal butter dish. "But for now I need it to eat with. And for your information these _are_ Haney's pancakes, but only because I was late getting ready."

"Well, thank God for alarm clocks that don't work," Jake breathed, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs and grabbing his silverware. "No offense, Bee, but your flapjacks pull the fillings from my teeth."

"Screw you, I love 'em."

"Yeah, but you love mine better, don'cha, big guy?" Haney teased, one green eye winking at the large man. He speared a couple of pancakes and tossed them onto his own plate. "Fastest way to your heart, Bee. I learned that a long time ago."

Bee colored slightly, his eyes dancing nervously to Jake. Jake rolled his eyes. As if he didn't know that the two men fooled around. "Please," was all he said, throwing a disgusted look at the big man. "Give me a little credit for not being a complete idiot, would you?"

Bee's blush faded and he grinned around a mouthful of pancake. "Wish I could but it's kind of hard what with you actually _being_ an idiot and all."

Haney passed the syrup to Jake. "So where's Black? He wanted a meeting, right?"

Jake scowled, his humor fading. "Probably still trying to get the pole out of his ass," he muttered into his plate.

"I'm right here."

Jake didn't bother to look guilty. He didn't care. His knew his eyes glowed with childish petulance as he looked up at their leader but he couldn't help himself. Black left him feeling nervous and unsure of himself without even trying.

Because Black tries so damn hard to be perfect and you know you don't give a rat's ass about such things.

"I actually managed to keep three pancakes out of Bee's mouth," Haney said with an earnest grin. The youngest-looking member of JC2 handed their leader a full plate. Haney looked like a kid and they always teased him as though he were one but Jake doubted that the other guys even remembered that the youngest member of their group was in fact Black. Wasn't he something crazy like twenty-three? No wonder everyone hated him down at police headquarters. Black had managed to snag a job other officers had been working years to get.

None of Jake's admiration showed on his face however as he regarded the other man. He was still pissed at Black for dumping him.

"Last night we met the replacements for Max and Lucas," Black said quietly, leaving his silverware on the table and sitting there with his hands resting carefully on the table top. "They're joining us this afternoon."

Haney and Bee exchanged glances. "So soon?" Haney breathed, a touch of betrayal in his voice. "It hasn't even been a week."

"The undesirables of Juxtapose City don't care about providing us with mourning time," Black told him but his voice was shaded with understanding. "I'm sorry, Haney, but JC2 needs to be a full team as quickly as possible."

"You're right, I know." Haney screwed up his face, his pale blond hairline coming down to meet his brows. "Just seems so cold, you know? We haven't even had the service for the guys and already we're deciding who fills their beds."

"Speaking of which," Jake said, carefully cutting into his pancakes, "where are the new guys going? Max and Lucas were both in The Clubhouse. I vote for a change in room assignments."

"Room assignments remain the same," Black said, not looking at Jake. "I see no reason for them to change and every reason why I need to keep the new members with me."

"Sure you do," Jake mumbled, hating that he sounded like a jilted lover.

Bee threw a curious look at him. "So, uh, who're the new guys? Anyone we know?"

Black nodded. "I've uploaded their files to your Personal Retrieval Units. Bee, you may be familiar with Wolf Sola? I think you worked with him once when you were in the Department."

Bee gave a theatrical shudder. "Aw, hell, Black. That guy--"

"-- is an ass," Jake finished for him. "I'm taking bets on how long it is before he tries to play King of the Mountain with you, Black."

Black frowned at him, the idea of anyone challenging his authority apparently not even a consideration to him. "Sola is a good agent and knows his place. He has never been accused of insubordination and I don't expect it now."

"Yeah, but this time JC2 is at stake," Haney threw in, looking worriedly at Black. "You know how many guys want your job, Black."

"It won't happen."

Jake snorted, saying nothing.

"Who's the other newbie?" Bee asked, soaking up the last of the syrup on his plate with a wedge of toast. "Someone else I know?"

Black almost smiled then. "I doubt it. His name is Calyx Starr."

"He's an empath," Jake cut in, smirking.

Bee stopped chewing.

Haney screwed up his face again. "An empath? As in--"

"Psypath," Jake said, enjoying this more than he'd expected to. He could feel Black glaring at him but he didn't give a shit. "As in fucked in the head and hooked on Bliss." He kicked back his chair to balance on its hind legs. "You shoulda see him last night all strung out and dressed like some street whore. Dickerson--"

"Shut. Your. Mouth."

Jake let his chair fall forward with a dull thunk, his grin fading beneath the look Black leveled at him. Bee and Haney sat frozen.

"Starr is an official member of JC2. If I hear you slandering him again you're facing disciplinary action." Black's steel voice cut through the silence of the kitchen. "If you have a problem with the new members, Sergeant Cole, deal with it. If you can't I'll recommend your transfer to another unit."

_Sergeant Cole._ Jake mentally shivered. Black was definitely pissed to be addressing him so formally. And he'd never before threatened Jake with transfer. Never.

"It won't happen again, sir," he said somberly.

Black's eyes shuttered, flashing with something that could have been frustration. Jake instantly regretted his big mouth. Black had told him last night how difficult this was. Now here Jake was being a jerk about it.

"Starr and Sola _will_ be contributing members of this team," Black told them as he stood up, his plate untouched. "I expect you all to assist them in integrating. If you can't do that send your transfer requests to my PRU."

The three men watched in silence as Black left the building to return to the Clubhouse. After a moment, a piece of toast struck Jake between the eyes.

"Hey!"

"You sure as hell know how to piss him off!" Haney snapped at him. "What's your problem, anyway?"

Jake shoved his plate away angrily. "You have no idea. Both of these new guys are nothing but trouble. Black's already had a run-in with the freak and Sola is just a loose cannon waiting to explode somewhere. We gotta watch out for each other on this, guys."

"Jake, are you a deliberate dumb-fuck or just an accidental one?" Bee sighed. "Didn't you hear our fearless leader? Integration, Jake. That means working together. Us three and the new guys."

"You don't understand," Jake mumbled, running a hand through his hair in agitation. _Something bad is going down and even Black knows it._ But he couldn't articulate why he felt this way so he sat at their breakfast table and fumed. "Just keep an eye on Black, okay?"

"Thought that was your job," Haney said cautiously.

Jake gave him a bitter smile. "Not anymore, kid. Not anymore."

### ~~~~~

Three hours later Black stood on the steps of the Clubhouse waiting for the arrival of Sola's electro-craft. He'd spent the time between breakfast and now going over Sola's previous evaluations, looking for something to jump out at him and give him justification for the slight unease he felt over the man.

When every opinion he'd received on Sola had been a negative one Black knew it was time to take notice. Last night, when informed he was being transferred, the agent had been nothing but professional, thanking Black for the opportunity. But faces could lie, words could deceive, thus the check through old files. But after a thorough investigation into the man's history with the department nothing had caught Black's eye. If anything, his initial opinion that Sola was an excellent agent was reiterated in the man's files.

Just a bad personality, Black decided, rubbing his hands slightly to warm them. He could deal with that. Black needed the man's police skills, not his ability to make friends. It might make the team's transition that much harder but he trusted the others to do what they should. He thought briefly of Jake. Most of them, anyway.

Black sighed, not wanting to dwell on the older man but finding his thoughts drawn there as though to a sink hole. He should never have gotten involved in a physical relationship with his teammate. Worse, a subordinate. Black knew better and he'd resisted, he truly had. When the team was being put together by Dickerson Black had noted the lingering look Jake had given him upon their first introduction to each other. He'd known to be wary.

After three months and double as many missions successfully completed, Black had thought he'd made his disinterest clear to the other man. Jake, however, seemed to see only what he wanted to. Despite Black's efforts to avoid being alone with the man Jake had cornered him one night in the workout room that spanned the back of JC2's housing. The memory, five months old, still made Black angry...

In the mirrors that lined the far wall he watched the door open from the Dugout side. With dread, he knew who it would be even before the familiar light-brown hair poked itself inside. Black kept his face expressionless as Jake regarded him in the reflection.

"What are you up to, Black?"

"What does it look like?"

Undeterred by the frosty reply, Jake stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He was dressed like Black in navy shorts and a gray T-shirt, standard-issue from the Department. He had a towel slung around his neck and gripped it with both hands as he watched Black do his bicep curls.

"You've got nice definition going on there."

Black eyed him in the mirror. "That sounded like the opening of a gay porn flick."

Jake cocked his head, smiling enigmatically. "Did it? I wouldn't know."

He studied Black in the mirror, waiting for a response, a heated denial. Black didn't waste his breath with either. He pretended that Jake wasn't there and finished his set in silence. Maybe if he ignored the other man he would get the hint and go away. He put away the weights and started to reach for new ones. No such luck.

"You need a spotter? Surely you want to do heavier sets?"

Black hesitated, hating that he hesitated. He didn't want Jake to affect him. He couldn't, not while being the other man's commanding officer. "Sure," he said crisply. He wasn't about to let Jake intimidate him.

Jake grinned and moved to the bench. "How much you want?"

Black told him and waited while the other man added the weights to the bar. He was nervous and didn't want to be. Chiding himself for feeling as though he were being stalked he carefully lay back on the bench and accepted the bar onto his palms. He'd started with a lower weight than usual, unconcerned with impressing Jake with how much he could bench and more concerned with being able to control himself.

He didn't look up at the other man, focusing his eyes on the ceiling tiles and not on the golden gaze that he could feel moving over his face and down his body. Damn it, this was a bad idea.

"That's it, keep it up," Jake urged in a low voice. "You're lookin' good. Just two more -- you got it."

Black hid a scowl. He'd never noticed how sexual the simple words of encouragement could be if you were in that frame of mind. Careful to avoid any accidental contact with Jake he slid off the bench to switch places with the other man. He added more weight as he was instructed. Staring fixedly at the metal bar, he lowered it into Jake's waiting hands.

Jake was pumping a lot. His breath came out in controlled, explosive bursts. Black tried not to notice how the veins popped out beneath the golden skin of Jake's biceps and forearms, how the muscles stretched rope-like beneath his thin T-shirt. Unlike Jake, Black didn't say a word while the man completed his set. He didn't want anything he said to be construed as the wrong kind of encouragement.

After Black had helped guide the bar back into its rests, Jake sat up, panting slightly. His skin had reddened somewhat with exertion.

"Whew! That's good!" Jake exclaimed, feeling his chest muscles through his T-shirt. "Got a nice burn starting." He squeezed himself slightly, his thumb grazing over an erect nipple. Black kept his eyes on the ground as they traded places but again, he felt the golden gaze moving over him.

He lay back on the bench as Jake changed the weight for him. The simple task seemed to take a long time. Impatient, he rolled his eyes upward only to discover that Jake had moved slightly forward and now stood straddling the top of the bench. The position made the legs of his shorts gape open and Black could not help following the line of muscular thigh upwards to the secrets of shadowed flesh. When he realized what he was seeing, Black flushed, his eyes shooting away only to collide with Jake's.

"Ready?" the older man said in a strange voice.

Flustered and angry with himself, Black gave a stiff nod and accepted the bar onto his palms. He tried to concentrate on balancing the bar, on his form as he steadily lowered and raised the weight. Anything but the awareness of Jake standing over him with legs spread, his crotch just a glance away. Black's nostrils flared and he could almost catch the scent of Jake's arousal. _Three more and I'm out of here,_ Black told himself, willing to sacrifice pride to escape this situation.

But he was too late. Jake abruptly disappeared from his place above Black's head and reappeared at the other end of the bench, kneeling between Black's spread thighs.

"What are you--" Black's eyes widened, his grip on the bar wavering as Jake boldly cupped him through his shorts. "What the fuck are you doing?" he panted, suddenly lacking the strength to lift the bar into its rest.

Jake stroked him harder, bring him to full arousal with ridiculous ease. "I'm tired of pussy-footing around," the older man told him in a husky voice. He kneaded the stiff flesh, making Black bite back a moan. "I've been hard for you since the day we met. I know you've noticed me too. I've got the proof nice and stiff right here before me."

"Get your hands off me!" Black hissed, trying to close his knees but blocked by Jake's body between them.

To his shock, Jake yanked the waistband of Black's shorts down his hips, freeing his trapped erection. "Tell me that again in thirty seconds," Jake murmured, squeezing Black's hard flesh. "I don't think you really want me to stop this, do you? _Sir_?"

He added the honorific in a sultry purr, the word shooting straight to Black's groin. With a final surge, Black forced his shaking arms to lift the bar into place. He sat up quickly, intending to punch the other man in the face, only to fall back with a harsh groan as a hot, wet heat suddenly swallowed him whole.

"Don't," he growled. "Jake, stop it... Sergeant Cole--"

Jake's response was to suck him harder, taking him even deeper down his throat. Black gripped the narrow sides of the bench, knowing he should stop this, knowing this was against every rule in his personal book. But Jake was too aggressive, too intent on getting what he wanted to allow Black the strength to refuse.

A hand encircled the base of his cock, squeezing him where Jake's mouth didn't cover. Another hand caressed the flat washboard of Black's stomach. Black caught that hand, not wanting the touch that was strangely enough more intimate than the one around his cock. With hard, skillful sucking, Jake brought Black swiftly to the edge of his orgasm. Jake lifted his head, lips swollen and wet.

"You get off on fast and furious, don't you?" Jake panted, rising up and quickly stripping off his own shorts. Black didn't know what he meant but didn't care when Jake pulled a small tube from the pocket of his shorts and squeezed its contents onto his hand.

Black braced himself on his wrists behind him as Jake rubbed the cool lubricant over Black's jutting flesh. He should stop this. He couldn't fuck a subordinate. Black knew all of this but he didn't utter a word of protest as he watched Jake reach behind him and carefully loosen himself with his own fingers. If anything Black grew more aroused, more intent on breaking all of the rules he had set for himself. Since JC2 was technically not an official part of the department the same rules didn't apply to them. But Black enforced his own and they definitely forbade _this_.

"No frills fucking. That's what you want isn't it, sir?" Jake rasped as he moved up the bench to straddle Black's hips.

"Enough with the 'sir'," Black bit out. "If you want to do this, do it."

Jake's lips curved into a triumphant smirk before he lowered himself onto his leader's swollen shaft. Both men groaned as the hot column of flesh found its home in Jake's body. Black shut his eyes, hating the sudden vulnerability he felt as Jake grabbed him by the shoulders and began to rise up and down. Black bit his cheeks, holding back the sounds his throat wanted to release. He was afraid the sounds would be too telling, would reveal how very long it had been since he had last done this with someone, since he had last dared to allow someone to touch him.

He needn't have worried. Jake was lost in his own world, eagerly riding Black with a hunger that revealed a subtle but definite shift in power. When Black tightened his hands about the older man's waist, guiding him into a more satisfying rhythm, Jake fell into it without protest, groaning heavily. Soon it was Black who dictated how hard, how deep, how fast. Black was in control again and it comforted him enough to allow him to find the release that had been hovering at the edge of his consciousness.

With a throaty groan he shoved his hips up one final time, shooting his seed into the body above him. Jake grabbed his own cock and pumped it furiously until he too, shouted out his pleasure.

Untangling himself from the other man a bit more rudely than he probably should have, Black reflected that it hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. He'd still been in control. Nothing had changed.

And indeed, nothing _had_ changed for him in the five months since, Black realized as he watched the traffic pass their building. He knew the same wasn't true of Jake, hence their falling out this morning. But that wasn't Black's concern. Attachments in their field were never a good idea. It was why none of the men had families. If someone existed in the world whose death could distract you from your job you were vulnerable. Black could not allow that.

Comforted by the certainty that he'd made the right decision with Jake, Black turned his head as a familiar-looking electro-craft pulled up to the sidewalk. Black walked down and leaned into its opened passenger side window. To anyone watching he looked as though he were scoring a hit or more innocently, offering directions.

"Got a gift for you from the captain," said the officer driving the craft. His name tag read Berkley. "He didn't want this in the same vehicle as the empath, I guess."

Black looked down at the metal briefcase lying in the passenger seat. He knew what was inside it. Dickerson was right in not sending it along with Starr. Black had seen addicts commit hit-and-run attacks on school children while in pursuit of their next hit.

Grimly, he retrieved the case. "Thanks. Is Starr coming along then?"

Berkley nodded. "They left just after I did. Should be here any minute."

Black gave his reluctant thanks and watched the cruiser drive away. He looked down at the case in his hands. He knew there was probably enough Bliss inside to make him a small fortune if he sold it on the streets. Enough to sell for a tidy sum and still have plenty leftover to play with.

Black's stomach churned and he nearly threw the case into the street. He had never before hated his job, thinking it a blessing, an opportunity to make things right. But right now, holding Bliss in his hands and waiting for the arrival of Calyx Starr, Black almost wished that Dickerson hadn't interfered. He could have saved the captain the trouble of keeping Black from the fate of Hangway. Because if all went as badly as Black feared it would, he would end up there eventually anyway.

### CHAPTER TWO

Black's first instinct was to lock the case carrying the Bliss tablets in the gun locker along with JC2's weapons. He immediately realized the foolishness of such a thing when he walked into the training room and saw Haney pulling out his gun and cleaning kit. Every team member had access to the locker. There was no way he could keep the Bliss there.

That left him with only one alternative. Cursing Dickerson yet again, Black took the case to his bedroom. He had a safe in the back of his closet which none of the other men knew about. Only Jake had ever set foot inside his room and that had been for a brief, unplanned fuck when Black had awoken to someone tapping on the window that opened onto the catwalk.

Kneeling before the safe, Black quickly spun the dial and opened the heavy door. The scent of gardenia momentarily gave him pause but he told himself to get a grip. He opened the silver case and looked grimly at the rows of Bliss tabs lying there like innocent candy buttons. The guidelines for distribution of the drug had been uploaded to Black's PRU this morning. _Here's your prescription for fun_ , Dickerson had written in a twisted attempt at humor. Black hadn't laughed.

The top layer of tablets was intended as Starr's reward for good behavior and to keep him from going into withdrawals. Beneath the narrow sheets he found the bandage-like tabs that Dickerson had offered to Jake and him last night. Black pulled out four and then shut and locked the case. He placed it carefully inside the safe, avoiding looking at the safe's other contents.

He had just spun the dial when his PRU buzzed from within his jeans pocket. He pulled out the unit which was the size of a bar of soap and as thin as a credit card and turned on the screen. The urgency on Bee's face had Black running out of his room.

"There's been an accident," Bee told him, his voice coming in clear over the earpiece Black wore clipped over the shell of his ear. "Starr's and Sola's crafts struck each other a block up Provident Street."

"I'm on my way," Black replied curtly. The screen went black as he shifted to All Send, which would transmit his message to all of JC2's PRU's. "Everyone meet me on the corner of Provident and Hastings."

Once outside the Clubhouse he ran up Hastings Street. He could hear a man shouting up ahead but he couldn't see anything. Possibilities ran through Black's head. Had someone from the street known of Starr's transfer and tried to take him out? Or had both Starr and Sola been targeted with the intent of keeping JC2 short-handed?

He found his teammates on the corner as he'd ordered. Black reached into his pocket and held out the tabs. "Here, you'll be wearing these on a daily basis for as long as Starr is a member of the team. It's twenty-five milligrams of Bliss. Wear it behind your ear."

Haney looked at the tabs in his hand with wide eyes. "The department's giving us Bliss?"

Black gritted his teeth. "If you don't wear them Starr will be able to feel all of your emotions. This is not official policy. We have not been ordered to use these so the choice is ultimately yours. I will warn you though: Starr likes to play head games. He may take advantage."

"Use 'em," Jake told his teammates as he reached for a tab. He quickly applied it to his skin. "Starr'll try to fuck with you otherwise, believe me."

Looking doubtful, Bee nonetheless took two tabs and handed one to Haney. "Twenty-five mil -- that isn't too strong. We'll barely notice it."

"It's just to blur your readings," Black confirmed. He closed his fist around the remaining tab but Jake saw it.

"What about you?"

Black shook his head. "You know how I feel about this." Ignoring Jake's scowl of disapproval, Black urged the other men up the street. "What's happened?"

"Got a call from the driver of Sola's craft," Bee said as they neared the two vehicles sitting in the middle of the street. The cruisers looked as though they'd collided. Fortunately they had done so on a stretch of Provident that was lined on either side by junk-covered fields of brown grass. Besides a homeless man who lay sprawled beside a tire there weren't any other on-lookers in sight.

"Holy shit," Haney breathed as they slowed to a walk.

"Step away from the craft!" Sola yelled. The large man had his gun out, pointed at the other electro-craft where an officer lay slumped against the steering wheel. Starr was leaning casually against the fender.

"Make me," the empath purred.

Bee gaped. "Tell me that's not--"

Jake laughed darkly. "It is."

Black ignored them both as he approached the vehicles. He had expected as much from Starr and therefore wasn't surprised to see the empath dressed in red leather pants and a silver chain link vest over a white T-shirt that read, ' _I support the men and women of the JCPD_ '.

Starr's long pale hair was still tinted purple at the ends and that same lack of disregard for orders was evident as he nonchalantly lit a cigarette and brought it to his lips. "You need to have your yearly psych test re-evaluated, sweetheart," he said, blowing a stream of smoke over his head. "Either that or someone at the station apparently doesn't fully appreciate the term 'psycho'."

"Fuck you," Sola growled out, cocking his weapon. "Step away from the craft, junkie. And keep your hands where I can see them. "

In complete contrast to the empath Sola was dressed in black canvas pants and a long-sleeved black turtle neck. Heavy combat boots were spread wide in a shooting stance. His severely cut brown hair was uncovered, his pale ice blue eyes boring into the man in front of him.

"Sergeant Sola."

The agent took a step back, angling himself to cover both Starr and Black and his men as they cautiously approached.

"It's Lieutenant Black from JC2," Black identified himself.

After a pause, Sola's tense posture eased but he kept his gun trained on Starr. "Sir, my apologies for being late. My craft was struck en route. It's clear that this subject overpowered the man behind the wheel resulting in a loss of control."

Black looked to Starr who was staring at him with amused green eyes. "We meet again, sweetheart."

Black sighed inwardly before turning back to Sola. "Sergeant, this man is also a member of JC2. There must be another explanation for what's happened here."

Sola blinked in surprise. His gun arm lowered as he looked at Black. "He's -- he's a cop?" Sola asked, incredulous and not bothering to hide his disgust.

Starr smirked and flicked his cigarette over his shoulder. "Mmm, spare me. You're no better than I am, sweetheart. You're just a little more... dangerous." He twirled his finger beside his head and mouthed "crazy".

Bee snickered beside Black. "Oh, man, this is gonna be interesting."

Black raised his eyes to Starr's. Interesting wasn't the half of it.

### ~~~~~

An ambulance took away the driver of Starr's craft. He'd suffered a mild concussion when the two cruisers had collided. Starr's explanation for the accident was terse:

"He asked me if the rumors about me and Captain Dickhead were true." The empath shrugged. "I told him to open his pants and find out. Guess the poor boy couldn't unzip and steer at the same time."

Jake snorted and headed up the stairs to the second floor of the Clubhouse. Bee and Haney, unsure how to react, looked anxiously at their commanding officer.

Sola narrowed his eyes. "Sir, may I speak with you privately?" he asked of Black.

Black nodded and led the man into the computer room. Once inside Sola shut the door. His face was tight, his lips pinched.

"Sir, with all due respect, being asked to join JC2 is an immense honor. Throughout my career I have been working towards joining a Special Forces team as effective as JC2 in combating gangs and drug lords. But this--" he waved a hand in frustration towards the door -- "is this a joke? Do you honestly expect that junkie to contribute in any possible way to what we're attempting to do? Does he even know how to handle a gun?"

Black crossed his arms. "Agent Starr is rated for both the faze whip and a handgun. I understand your concerns. They have been noted. Captain Dickerson personally recommended that Agent Starr be included in this team and I respect that decision. I expect you to as well."

"But what good can he possibly do? He's probably on drugs as we speak. If I am to entrust my life and the lives of my teammates to a drug abuser--"

Black held up his hand. "Agent Starr's drug use is being handled. Don't concern yourself with that." He reached into his pocket and held out the Bliss tab. "I should have mentioned this last night but I neglected to. Starr is an empath." He nodded as Sola stiffened. "He can't read minds but he can sense emotions. Therefore on the orders of the captain I have been given regulated doses of Bliss to distribute to those members of the team who feel uncomfortable being exposed in his presence. I can't force you to use this but the other men are already doing so."

To his surprise Sola reached for the tab immediately, sticking it behind his ear. "I wish I'd known this beforehand, sir," Sola mumbled. "Having that freak in my head all this time..."

"He can't read your thoughts," Black reminded him impatiently.

Sola didn't appear to care. He glared at the door as if he could see Starr through it. "Is he here for a special assignment, sir?"

"That has yet to be revealed to me," Black said, somewhat reluctantly. He didn't like being kept in the dark and disliked even more having to admit to his ignorance. "Will you have a problem working within this team, Sergeant Sola? If so, tell me now and I will arrange for your transfer back to R&R."

Sola looked back at him and the hardness Black had sensed in the man was paired with a steely determination. "No problem, sir. I want to be a part of JC2, no matter who it is I'll have to work alongside. I've dedicated my life to eradicating the scum of Juxtapose City. Nothing and no one will stop me."

It was a more impassioned answer than he'd been looking for but Black was willing to take what he could get. "Alright then. I'll show you where you're staying."

### ~~~~~

The one who looked like he was a kid was staring at him unabashedly. The big one with the baby face was trying not to look as obvious as he glanced over from the corner of his eye. Calyx smiled slightly, amused by the reaction of Black's teammates. Thanks to the tabs he saw the men wearing behind their ears he couldn't sense them but instinct told him that these two wouldn't be as difficult to deal with as the psycho he'd just encountered or Black's lapdog from last night.

The latter man, after returning Calyx's grin with a challenging sneer, had retreated upstairs. _Laying booby traps,_ Calyx thought with a private laugh. Definitely a lover, Calyx decided. The look the lapdog had sent Black before heading upstairs had been purely possessive.

Calyx came out of his musings as a hand tapped him lightly on the shoulder. The younger agent who'd been staring at him now had his hand extended.

"I'm Haney Wilkes and this is Bee Mathers." Haney gave a tentative smile as they shook hands. "The guy who went upstairs is Jake. Jake Cole. He's the second-in-command."

Starr let his lashes drift down, hooding his gaze. "I'm Calyx. I think your boss wants to call me Agent Starr so I'll let him. It makes me sound rather mysterious and sexy, don't you think?" He smirked at Haney's stammered agreement. "We'll see how long that lasts before the rest of you break down and start calling me 'asshole'."

Haney's green eyes widened before he burst into laughter. He half-turned and smacked the big guy in the chest. "He's funny! This won't be so bad, Bee."

Bee rolled his eyes, his face pinkening slightly. "Cut it out, will you, Haney?" He reached for Calyx's hand and engulfed it in his. "We were expecting something else, to be honest. We've never dealt with an empath before. Well, besides arresting them."

Calyx's lips curled. "Hmm, is someone spreading naughty rumors about me already? I'm shocked. Don't tell me-- was it the lapdog?"

"Lapdog?" Haney's confusion lifted into an expression of shocked hilarity. "Oh, Jesus. You don't mean Jake do you?"

"You'd better not let him hear you say that," Bee warned, glancing anxiously up the stairs.

"Why not? It's what he is, isn't he? I'll bet he trails after Black wherever he goes." When the other two men looked at each other uncomfortably, Calyx laughed. "I hope he's housetrained. Now that I'm here he may try to mark his territory."

Bee groaned, throwing a hand across his eyes. Haney just stared at him in morbid fascination.

"You're gonna be trouble," Bee declared. "Thank God we're in the other house, Haney."

"There are two houses?" Calyx asked.

"Yes. The other place is called the Dugout. It's me, Haney and Jake. This house is the Clubhouse. You're with Sola and Black."

So Darkness would be sleeping in the same house as him. Interesting. Calyx leaned back against the wall as the door to the computer room opened and the psycho and Black came out. The empath smiled in delighted surprise at the peace in his mind.

"Thank you for putting an end to all of that," he said to Black, tapping his head meaningfully. "You're the only one I enjoy 'feeling' that way."

Black barely glanced at him, making Calyx's lips curve wider. Like the other members of his team Black was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater. The teal blue color of his sweater set off his dusky skin. In the light of day he looked younger. But the firm set of his expression showed that he was determined not to act like it. Calyx watched him walk past to the stairs. He wished the other man's jeans were a little tighter. Black had a nice ass.

Black had already shown him and Sola the downstairs level. Besides the tactics and computer rooms there was a small kitchen and more interestingly a door that opened into a long room that had been converted into the team's training room. Thick mats covered the floor and walls and various training dummies were lined up against one wall.

Upstairs, the house looked more normal. A small common area with a small brown loveseat and a coffee table sat beside the top of the stairs. A short hallway led to three doors.

"Sergeant Sola, this will be your room," Black said, indicating the door nearest the stairs. "Store your weapons in the downstairs gun locker."

After the grim man had disappeared inside the room, Calyx turned to Black. "Do I get to stay with you?" he drawled, propping a hand on his hip suggestively.

Haney laughed nervously.

"You two head on down," Black told Bee and Haney, his eyes on Starr.

When the sound of footsteps had faded Black leaned back against the opposite side of the hallway. "We need to get some things straight between us," he said calmly.

Calyx mimicked his position against the facing wall, hooking his thumbs into the top of his pants. "Do tell."

"I can guess what your relationship with Captain Dickerson was," Black began. "It won't be like that here. I don't sleep with subordinates."

"Not even your lapdog?"

Black frowned. Calyx felt the man's surprise like a splash of cold water.

Calyx laughed quietly. "Your boy has teeth and he isn't afraid to bare them when a new dog shows up."

"Sergeant Cole and I don't have that kind of relationship."

Calyx said nothing, still smiling.

"And neither will you and I." Though Black's face remained impassive a rush of irritation blended with frustration swept through the empath. "You don't need to provide 'favors' to any member of this team. If anyone approaches you inappropriately I want you to tell me immediately and I will deal with him."

"But what if it's something that I want too?" Calyx straightened away from the wall and stood before Black. Wary brown eyes stared up at him, their thick lashes lowering slightly in annoyance. The empath felt anger seeping past Black's tight control along with a faint trace of unease. This last made Calyx place his palm against the wall beside Black's head and lean forward. "What if I want to give _you_ one of my 'favors'?"

"I'd tell you I'm not interested," Black said tightly. The anger Calyx felt coming from him grew stronger. The empath might have backed off at that point if he hadn't sensed a touch of something else. Something unexpected. Calyx's eyes darkened as he recognized the thin shreds of emotion Black was unable to completely hide.

Holding Black's eyes, Calyx moved his leg forward ever so slightly. The moment the leather of his pants came in contact with the front of Black's jeans something hot and panicked slid through Calyx's mind. It shot straight to his cock. It made him lose control for a second, made him push his thigh against Black's groin and rub against the bulge there.

Black gasped, his hips jerking back.

"Don't hide it," Calyx breathed, eyelashes fluttering as sensation began to flood him. He lowered his head and skimmed his lips across the other man's temple. "Give it to me, sweetheart. Let me feel you."

Brown eyes widened a second before Calyx found himself flat on his back on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling.

"Don't ever try that again," Black said in a breathless voice. To the empath's surprise everything he had been feeling from Black vanished as solidly as if a sound-proofed door had been shut. Black fisted his hands as he got his breathing under control. In an even voice he said, "Being a part of this team is an opportunity. I suggest that you don't blow it by thinking with your dick."

Calyx shook his head ruefully. "Ah, sweetheart," he murmured, "stop tempting me and I won't try to play."

A tightening of his lips was Black's only reaction before he spun away and stalked down the stairs. Calyx lay on the carpet for a moment, one hand idly stroking himself through the leather. He groaned ruefully. Mmm. If Black weren't a police officer fully capable of rendering him a eunuch Calyx would have flown down the stairs after him and finished what he'd started. Smiling slightly, he rolled agilely to his feet and grabbed his duffel bag from where he'd dropped it.

He was still thinking about the encounter as he walked into his assigned room. One moment he was in the doorway, the next he found himself shoved hard against the wall. He saw stars as his head bounced off the wall.

"Welcome to the team," Jake said. He slammed Calyx against the wall again. "Looks like I'm going to have to set you straight on the rules around here."

"Let me guess," Calyx said, "you're the only one who gets to sleep at his feet."

"Fuck you," Jake snarled. "This isn't some party you've walked into. JC2 is Black's life. I'm not letting you fuck it up just because you can't take no for an answer."

"Is that your problem too?" Calyx asked, cocking a brow. "Jealous?"

One of Jake's hands flew to the patch behind his ear. The empath laughed at the betraying gesture. "Don't worry, you idiot. I can't feel anything from you. Everything's obvious in your little cave-man show here. You're worried Black might be interested in me, aren't you? Poor baby. Aren't you living up to his expectations?"

Jake started to slam him backwards again but this time Calyx rammed a knee up into the other man's crotch. It didn't catch Jake dead-on but it was close enough to make the man release him and back away.

"You stay away from him," Jake warned, holding a hand protectively over his groin. "You never know when word of your whereabouts might make its way onto the street. I can only imagine how excited some of your old friends would be to see you again."

Calyx was tired of this threat. He'd heard it constantly since being arrested two months ago. "I'd like to see you step out there, Cole." His mouth twisted. "You think you're such a tough guy. You're so used to hiding behind a gun and five other guys you wouldn't last two seconds in the neighborhood. Being a cop doesn't mean anything out there. You'd better stick to where you're safest -- in this cozy little doghouse begging for a treat from your master."

"I'm driving you out of here if it's the last thing I do, Starr."

"Good luck."

Jake shook his head in disgust as he left the room. Calyx rubbed at the back of his head. Cole was nothing but a bully. He'd learn soon enough that Calyx wasn't your typical street punk who could be intimidated by a little roughing up.

"Asshole," he muttered. He shut the door but not before a giving lingering look at the door across the hallway. Stay away? Yeah, right. Cole had just given him double the incentive to keep trying.

### ~~~~~

Wolf Sola finished stowing his clothes and gear and sat carefully on the edge of his bed. JC2 was living in style. If his old teammates in R&R ever learned about JC2's private housing they'd throw a fit, demanding to know why they didn't deserve such treatment.

The answer was easy. JC2 got the job done. Sola had long admired Lieutenant Sundhill and his success with the first Juxtapose City Unit. When Sola had gotten wind that a second unit was being put together he'd pulled strings and called in every favor he had in an attempt to get himself appointed as its leader.

Sola had been with special teams for eight years. After being recruited from the regular force at twenty-two he'd worked with the bomb squad and Recon and Recovery, earning commendations left and right. At thirty he'd thought himself in the perfect position to assume command of the new JC Unit team.

But the team had been given to Black. Sola stared out of the room's single window at the overcast sky. Who the hell was Black anyway? When he'd heard of the appointment he'd asked everyone he knew for any information about the new team leader.

All he'd gotten were shrugs and jealous rumors: Black was some bigwig's son. Black was some government agent undercover. Black wasn't even his name. No one knew. And when he'd tried to slyly question the head of the special teams department -- Captain Dickerson -- he'd received a chilly warning to keep his nose out of things that didn't concern him.

But Sola had a lot invested in JC2. The man he had become was a direct result of the drug trafficking on the streets. He had a vendetta to pursue and JC2 was his means of doing so. So as he'd bided his time with R&R, Sola had done some digging.

Black was an alias but no other identification could be found for JC2's leader. His record was sealed by Dickerson's order. That he was the Captain's prodigy was apparent, but Sola wanted to know how and why Black had come to be such. Where had he worked before assuming JC2? Why was his identity and past such a secret?

And what burned Sola more than anything else was that what _did_ exist of Black's public records claimed that he was only twenty-three. Sola hadn't been able to fully believe it until Black had approached him last night. A kid was leading Juxtapose City's elite force. A fucking kid! Sola would bet his left nut that he'd seen five times as much action as Black had. And yet here he was, a sergeant while Black was a lieutenant.

Sola stood and looked down at the sidewalk. Black and the two other guys -- Bee and Haney -- were talking on the concrete. Sola stared at the top of Black's head and felt his gut churn with the injustice of it all. Well, he'd get his chance. He was finally on the team after nearly a year of waiting. One way or another Sola would prove himself the better leader. And if not he would find another way to remove Black from the team. Black's records weren't sealed for traffic tickets. Somehow, Sola would learn the truth. He was willing to bet his career that it was something that would ruin Black completely.

### ~~~~~

"Here's my opinion: Sola's a G.I. Joe who's taken one too many hits to the head and probably sleeps with a gun in his underwear. And Starr -- Starr is someone who'd rather be high on drugs in the middle of a dance club but he'll settle with giving you a blowjob."

Bee blinked at Haney. "I can't believe you just said that."

The younger man shrugged innocently. "Why? You know it's true. Sola's too gung-ho and Starr's been staring at Black's ass ever since he got here."

Black rubbed at his eyes. "Bee? Do you have anything more helpful to add?"

Throwing his partner a reproving look, Bee turned to his commanding officer. "My first impressions are that Sola is a rigid, by-the-book guy but that's not necessarily a bad thing. As for Starr--" The big man looked uneasy as he glanced at Black. "I gotta side with Haney on this one. He doesn't seem like he belongs here. He acts like it's all for fun."

Black nodded, looking down the street. He'd come to pretty much the same conclusions. "After the service tomorrow I'm having you guys and Jake do some drills with Sola. I'm going to take Starr to the range and evaluate him. If he's not up to par this may end tomorrow. I won't have the team jeopardized by anyone who can't carry his weight."

Haney shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "About the service tomorrow," he began. "Starr's gonna go nuts, isn't he? I mean, if he's an empath a funeral is gonna be hell for him."

Black hadn't wanted to go into this but he nodded. "I've been authorized to give him controlled amounts of Bliss. It should get him through it."

"Aw, jeez, Black," Haney said, sympathetically. "What're they thinking turning us into drug dealers?"

Black couldn't say what he wanted to say because he knew it would be insubordination. So he tightened his jaw and remained silent. He looked down as his PRU buzzed. Bee and Haney respectfully backed away as Black took the call. The small screen filled with Dickerson's smug face.

"How's it going?" Dickerson asked.

"Starr and Sola are adjusting to their new home," Black replied curtly. "Tomorrow afternoon I will conduct the evaluations."

"They'll be fine," Dickerson said dismissively. "I wouldn't have recommended them to you if I didn't think they would fit on the team."

"Yes, sir."

Dickerson glanced to the side as if checking the privacy of his surroundings. "I want you to drive me tonight, Black. Same time."

Black's knuckles tightened around the unit. He fought the urge to fling the PRU against the side of the Clubhouse. "I think I should remain here, sir, since it's the first night. It might not be a good idea to let Starr and Sola remain in the house by themselves."

"For Christ's sake they're not puppies that're gonna piss on the carpet when you're not around. They'll be fine."

"Yes, sir," Black bit out.

Dickerson's voice dropped. "We're going to the Hop, so wear something appropriate. That red shirt you had on last time was good. Wear that."

Black's eyes lifted to his teammates. He breathed a little easier when he saw they were too far away to hear anything. "Whatever you want, sir."

If the older man heard the forced note to his voice he acted as though he hadn't. Dickerson nodded and the screen went black.

Black pocketed the unit and walked to the other men. "I've got another assignment with the captain tonight. Keep Starr and Sola with you in the Dugout until you turn in. Make sure everyone remains civil."

Haney bit his lip. "Um, Jake's gonna--"

"I'm counting on you two to keep Jake under control. Don't let him get at Starr." Black paused before adding, "And don't tell him where I've gone. It's none of his business."

Bee frowned disapprovingly, but nodded. "You got it, Black."

### ~~~~~

Dinner was strained, to say the least. Haney kept up a constant stream of chatter, for some reason thinking it would loosen everyone up. Black congratulated himself on not telling him to shut up and eat.

"I'm curious about the other JC team," Starr said, interrupting Haney in the middle of his discourse on the best places in the neighborhood to get pizza. "Are they housed near here?"

"They're in the south side," Bee told him as he wound lo mein around his fork. "Captain thought it would be more practical to have a team available on both sides of the city."

"Word at the station is that you're building a better record than Lieutenant Sundhill," Sola commented, watching Black intently.

Sola had been staring at him all throughout dinner and it was giving Black a headache. "Both teams are racking up the best success rates in the department. This isn't a competition."

"Tell that to Sundhill, the prick," Jake muttered into his food.

"He's pretty popular in the department."

Black met the cool ice of Sola's gaze, hearing the unsaid comparison. "I'm not out to make friends."

Sola dropped his eyes to his food and speared a water chestnut with his fork. "Must be the rivalry. People wouldn't have any other reason to dislike you, right?"

Black chose not to respond. His head was aching from both the uncomfortable tension in the room and the effort it took to block himself from Starr. He could feel the empath's eyes on the side of his face. He pushed away his food and stood up.

"I want you all to get to know each other better while I'm gone. We're going to be placing our lives in each other's hands so we'd better learn to start trusting each other. Tomorrow we'll be attending the service for Max and Lucas, so get your rest."

"Where are you going?" Jake demanded.

"Out."

Jake stared after the other man's back, his hand clenched around his fork. "He's going out with Dickerson, isn't he?" he demanded of Haney.

The younger man shrugged helplessly.

"I wish I knew what the hell they did..."

"It's the captain's business," Bee told him firmly. "If Black needed you to know he'd tell you."

Starr leaned back in his chair. "Captain Dick-a-lick requires our leader's services often, I take it?"

Jake glared at him. "It's nothing like what _you_ provide the captain."

Starr just smirked, his expression skeptical.

"Black's pretty secretive, huh?" Sola said around a mouthful of barbecue pork. "Does anyone even know his first name?"

"Who cares?" Jake muttered, grabbing his and Black's abandoned plates. "He can keep his damned secrets."

On his way past the table to the kitchen he 'accidentally' bumped Starr's shoulder, making the empath spill the juice he had been drinking down the front of his shirt. _God, I am such a child_ , Jake thought to himself as he listened to the blond man curse. But he smiled just the same.

### ~~~~~

Black left his electro-bike at the station and signed out an unmarked cruiser. He took off his leather jacket and laid it across the passenger seat as he began the drive to Dickerson's house. He was wearing black silk pants and a red satin shirt opened at the throat. He'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. A gold stud glinted in his ear but he wore no other jewelry. The familiar comfort of his gun was absent.

As usual, it wasn't Dickerson's wife who answered the door it was the captain himself. Dressed simply in a black suit and shirt, Dickerson nodded approvingly when he saw Black. "Let's go."

The Hop was a discreet club on the outer fringes of the Blue Square, the heart of Juxtapose City's night scene. The club itself was in a dark building on an unlit street. A single bulb burning over a metal door served as its entrance. Black parked the craft up the corner from the building and shut off the engine, waiting for instructions.

"Turn around," Dickerson said from the back seat.

Black shifted in his seat until he faced the older man. He remained still as a large hand lightly touched his hair.

"I'm glad you went with this," Dickerson said. Black knew he wasn't referring to his hair. "You look like your mother."

"That's the point."

Dickerson smirked. "It must be strange to see yourself like this..." He trailed off, seeming to forget that his fingers still rested in Black's hair. The police captain's eyes cleared and he dropped his hand to finger the collar of Black's shirt. "I like this. It looks good."

"What do you want this time?" Black asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Dickerson smiled but it wasn't a pleasant smile. "I think I miss your little empath. Let's make it interesting."

Black's fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. "Whatever you want."

Dickerson nodded. Black got out of the car. The air was cool against his sweating skin as he walked toward the bulb-lit doorway.

### ~~~~~

Calyx sat up in bed. This wasn't working. Sola must be dreaming about driving a tank over little old ladies because Starr was picking up some disturbing _rage/pleasure/remorse_ sensations in rising and fading waves from the man. What was wrong with that guy? If this was how it was going to be Calyx was going to demand a little Bliss nightcap before going to sleep from now on.

Scratching at his ribs, Calyx dug around the floor beside the bed and found his cigarettes. The nicotine rush soothed his nerves and he sat back against the pillows and tried to relax. He missed Black. He went ahead and laughed aloud at himself but it was true. Darkness was the only interesting person around here. The rest were boring stiffs.

He thought back to the conversation at dinner. He doubted Black was doing anything like what _he'd_ been forced to do with Captain Dickhead but he was curious all the same. Secret assignments? _What a man of mystery you are, Darkness._

As if on cue, he heard the electric whine of Black's bike pulling into the garage. Calyx glanced at the clock. Almost 3:00 AM. What could last until such a late hour? The garage swallowed the whirr of the bike and the next sound Calyx heard was the downstairs door opening and closing. He listened to the unsteady tread of heavy footsteps up the stairs and recognized it instantly. Black was drunk.

"What happened to your vaunted control?" Calyx murmured into the darkness of his room. A frown dragged his lips down. Not only was Black drunk he wasn't blocking himself.

And Calyx could feel him.

The cigarette fell from between Calyx's fingers. It was only the smell of burning fabric that jolted him into awareness to pat it out.

Calyx shoved his fist between his teeth as emotions suddenly swamped him. _Disgust/anger/helplessness/betrayal/pain/pain/pain..._

Choking on a cry, Calyx hurtled out of bed and dragged on the clothes Jake had stained at dinner. The moment he heard Black's bedroom door shut he bolted out into the hallway and threw himself down the stairs. He let himself out the front door and broke into a run, heading away from the lights and running instead towards the darkest part of the neighborhood. He knew he could get himself killed by wandering the streets by himself. If anyone recognized him as the snitch he'd become his life wouldn't be worth the price of his blood.

But desperation overrode caution and Calyx needed a hit. In the blackest alley he could find his instincts steered him to a bony man in a tattered trench coat. He didn't bother bargaining; he paid too much and he didn't regret it.

Amazingly, he wandered his way back to the Clubhouse. He dropped down onto the stoop and fell back against the front door. Everything was just fine now. Everything, in fact, was beautiful...

### CHAPTER THREE

Bee knew the rule: don't get involved with your teammates because one day you may have to watch them die. Losing a teammate's life was allowed to hurt, but it couldn't compromise your decisions. Bee knew this, he understood the reasoning. But it didn't change his feelings for Haney.

That was fine; Bee was good at separating his emotions from the job. He was a professional. He'd been in the department for years. He knew the drill. It was only now, in the realm of dreams when he had no control, that he regretted his relationship with his teammate. It was the one place where he was vulnerable. And this nightmare was a perfect example why.

In the dream, he and Haney were in the Dugout, sitting on the couch watching TV. The door to the training room opened down the hall. Bee wouldn't have given it a second thought but with the opening and closing of the door came a squishy sound, like socks pressing down in wet sneakers. It was summer; no reason for rain. So Bee turned.

Starr didn't look the way he had when they'd all met him yesterday. He looked too thin, his bones jutting from his hips through the stained leather pants he wore. His cheekbones were razor sharp, stretched taut over prominent bone. His feline green eyes were too bright -- fever bright -- but the skin around them was sunken and shadowed. Bee recognized the look. Drugged to the gills. It only somewhat explained the bloody knife in his hand.

It was a big butcher knife, straight out of a horror flick. And just as in those teen movies the empath was slashing madly with it, not aiming, just filling the air with flashes of silver. Bee leaped from the couch, grabbing at Haney's arm to yank him away from the descending knife. But the blade sank deep into Haney's shoulder. Bee watched horrified as his lover's face twisted into an expression first of surprise then pain as Starr retracted the blade and slammed it home again.

Bee howled in anguish, his feet pinned to the carpet by invisible hands. He tried to reach for Haney, tried to grab the empath's knife with his bare hand -- but Bee could do nothing. All he could do was watch helplessly as his friend's -- his lover's -- blood saturated the fabric of the couch.

"Why did you trust him?" Haney asked Bee in a pain-wracked voice. His light green eyes filled with tears. "You should have kept me safe from him."

"I didn't know," Bee sobbed, tearing at his own hair.

"Don't trust him," Haney whispered. "You can't trust him."

Bee screamed as the other man's eyes rolled up into his head. He heard low, mocking laughter.

Starr smiled at him and brought the blade to his lips. "Three down, two to go..."

Bee shot upright in the sheets of his bed. His T-shirt clung wetly to his chest. He raised a hand to his heart and felt it thundering beneath his skin. _Dream_ , he told himself firmly. _Wasn't real._

When his heart had calmed somewhat he slipped out of bed and into the hall. He let himself into Haney's bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him. Once beside the other man's bed Bee sank to his knees on the carpet. He had to touch Haney, had to be sure that _this_ wasn't the dream.

Haney's eyes fluttered open at the touch to his cheek.

"Hey, big guy," he murmured sleepily. When Bee's expression registered through his drowsiness he caught the larger man's fingers. "Bee, what's wrong?"

Bee sucked in a shaky breath and managed a smile. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Haney frowned, climbing higher into wakefulness. "Why do you have that look on your face? You look... scared."

"Just let me watch you sleep, okay?"

Smiling bemusedly, Haney scooted back on the mattress and lifted the sheet. Bee slid into the warmth and pulled the smaller man tight against him.

"You're heart's going crazy," Haney said, studying the other man's face. "This isn't nothing."

"Yes, it is," Bee murmured, pushing Haney's face against his shoulder. He smoothed his hand over the short blonde hair. "It was just a dream, Haney. Just a dream."

The words were more to convince himself than anything.

### ~~~~~

Black's PRU buzzed six seconds before his alarm went off. He rolled over and blindly slapped his hand down on the alarm before fumbling for the Personal Retrieval Unit. He was too tired to find the No Video button.

"Well, good morning, beautiful. Rough night with the captain? You look like hell."

"What do you want?" Black grumbled, dragging a pillow over his eyes.

"Just thought you might like to know that our resident empath is currently passed out on the front steps of the Clubhouse." Jake laughed. "I always figured we'd end up with some bum on our porch. I just never thought it'd be one of our own."

Black filtered the other man's words through the tribal beat that pounded against the interior of his skull. "You're joking."

"Would you like me to take a photo?" Jake offered happily. "It might come in handy later."

Black's first reaction was to demand if Jake had done something to the empath while Black was off with Dickerson. He shelved that idea, knowing it would be wiser to get all the facts first. He shoved away the pillow and sat up, his eyes closed as he rubbed his hand across them.

"Stay in the Dugout. I'll take care of this. Don't tell the others. That's an order, Jake."

Black raised a hand to his throat but when his fingers touched the skin, a shiver passed over him.

"Black." Jake's voice was subdued. Concerned. Black didn't want to hear it. "Where did you go last night?"

"It doesn't concern you," Black replied, staring at the sheets of his bed as a memory washed through him. Sickness that had nothing to do with the alcohol he'd consumed made his stomach heave.

"The hell it doesn't," Jake retorted but his voice was still soft. "Just tell me he doesn't hurt you, baby. Just tell me that."

It was the endearment that reached him, touched him when he couldn't stand to be touched. He glared down at Jake's face on the screen. "I said it doesn't concern you. Leave it alone." He could read the stubbornness on the other man's face and wondered yet again when and how it had gotten to this point, that Jake was so possessive. Knowing the other man would continue to harass him about this until he was satisfied Black gave in, just a little. "He doesn't touch me, Jake. Leave it at that."

"Every time you come back," Jake said, his thumb visibly stroking the side of the screen, "you're unhappy. Tell me what he wants from you. Please, Black."

But Black had shared all that he wanted to on this topic. "Drop it, Jake. Forget it. The funeral is today. Please make sure Haney and Bee are ready. I won't have us late for the service."

Jake's face clouded. "Of course we won't be late, but damn it--" Black shut him off.

He tossed the PRU to the nightstand and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He moved shakily to the bathroom and threw water into his face. He spent more time than he should have staring at the face he saw in the mirror.

### ~~~~~

He nudged the empath in the ribs with his foot. "Get up."

To his relief Starr actually responded, squinting his eyes in the morning light. "Why hello, Darkness." The empath cleared his throat. "You look... better."

"I wish I could say the same."

Starr gave him a weak smile as he maneuvered himself into a sitting position against the front door. Black squatted and looked him over disapprovingly. The empath was wearing his shirt inside out and backwards. His boots were unlaced. Black reached up and checked the pulse at his throat.

"You have a soft touch," Starr murmured. Black lifted his eyes, finding the green gaze thoughtful and free of its usual flippancy. "I should have guessed that about you. From what I've seen of you up here." The empath tapped his head.

Black dropped his hand, uncomfortable. "I could have you thrown off the team for what you did," he said. "You scored a hit last night, didn't you?"

Starr shifted and winced as cramped muscles protested. "You made me."

Black frowned. "What are you talking about?"

A craft drove past the house. Starr watched it warily, waiting until it had reached the end of the street and turned before responding. "When you came home last night you weren't blocking yourself from me. I could _feel_ you."

Black forgot to breathe. "What did you--" No, forget that. He didn't want Starr to voice it, to try to come up with his own conclusions as to what he had sensed from Black. "It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Starr asked, his brow furrowing. Black looked down in mild surprise as the empath's hand settled over his own where it rested on his knee. "You can't help what you feel. You can't help it when you hurt."

"I don't hurt," Black ground out.

"Liar," Starr said, almost whispering the word. His hand tightened. Black told himself to fling it off. He didn't. Starr had a smooth palm. It felt warm over his suddenly freezing fingers.

Starr smiled a little. His thumb stroked lightly over the back of Black's wrist. "You can't lie to me, sweetheart. I'm an empath, remember? No one can know you better than I can."

Their eyes locked for a frozen moment. Black felt his knees tremble. He pulled his hand from beneath Starr's, pretending not to see the flash of disappointment in the green eyes. He straightened to his feet and deliberately used the position to look down at the other man. "Don't leave the house on your own again, is that clear? If a situation calls me away again I'll provide you with a tab before I go. "

Starr tilted his head back, smiling tiredly. "Better yet why don't you just stay home with me? I'm sure I could be better company than you had last night."

Black opened the door, nearly spilling the empath inside. "No thanks," he said. But the answer didn't hold the bite that he wanted it to.

### ~~~~~

A funeral ranked right up there with outright death as one of the things Calyx dreaded most. He couldn't have handled it clean. No way. Death probably would have been preferable. But thanks to the little tab dissolving in his bloodstream courtesy of a clearly reluctant Lt. Black, Calyx was feeling nothing but good, thank you very much. He was probably the only one.

This pleasant little get-together was the culmination of a strange morning. Breakfast had been odd, to say the least. The big man with the baby face, Bee, who had seemed like such a nice fellow yesterday, had overnight jumped onto the watch-out-for-the-freak bandwagon. The man had watched Calyx eat as though the empath were a hawk looking to pounce on an unwary sparrow. The sparrow apparently being Haney. Calyx found the abrupt flip bewildering.

The psycho, Sola, wearing a dress uniform so starched it could have cut paper, had nearly gone ballistic when he'd seen Calyx's civilian clothes. Calyx wasn't disrespectful -- even _he_ wasn't that big of a prick. He simply hadn't been issued a uniform yet. But his somber -- for him -- knee-length black coat and pants hadn't impressed Sola. Calyx was sure that if it weren't for Black's presence, Sola would have strangled the empath with his dress collar.

And Black -- Black didn't say a word. It had made it difficult to eat. It made every eye in the kitchen fall to him in a mixture of sympathy and unease, as if their leader wore a brace of dynamite strapped across his chest. Only Jake had braved conversation with him, the results of which had left the lapdog with such an expression of frustration on his face that Calyx had nearly laughed.

Now here they were, staring at two coffins draped with flags being lowered into the ground on the edge of Juxtapose City. Calyx could see the bridge from here, shrouded in fog. It looked skeletal, cold. He rarely made it outside the City. He'd been born in its alleys and he would most likely die there. To be outside looking in left him feeling strangely lonely. The press of people and their emotions, although his biggest burden, were also things he had grown used to. Go figure. He must be a closet masochist.

But no pain now. Calyx scanned the small crowd of men and felt himself drooling slightly. So many pretty boys, all in their shiny, pressed uniforms. There was something to be said for a crisp, dark suit that stretched across the shoulders and tapered at the waist. His eyes settled on his own team. Hmm, even Jake looked somewhat delectable. Without his smart mouth, with his face softened in grief, the light-haired sergeant could be an attractive man.

No one, however, compared to Darkness. Calyx sighed a little as he studied Black from beneath his lashes. The empath's mind fell gleefully into the gutter, fantasizing about stripping off that dark uniform to discover what lay beneath. Pressed up against Black yesterday he had felt something of the man's body, the tight, lean muscles. The Bliss in Calyx's system spurred him to imagine the feel of that firm body around his cock. Tight, hot, struggling just a little -- Calyx held back a groan, his heavily-lidded eyes lifting to Black's face.

Ah, well. That was where the fantasies ended. Calyx turned away, watching Captain Dick toss a handful of dirt onto the coffins. Whoever it was who had decided to make Black the commander of JC2 deserved to be shot, in Calyx's opinion. As good a job as Black supposedly did with the team right now he looked like a college kid playing dress up in his father's uniform. Normally Calyx wouldn't have cared. To hell with the JCPD; they'd written his death warrant. But Darkness called to Calyx, reminded him of himself in some strange way. Black didn't deserve to be here. He was too young to be thrown to the wolves of the Department. He was definitely too young to wear that expression on his face.

All Calyx could say was thank god for the Bliss.

### ~~~~~

"It was a good ceremony," Captain Dickerson told them. "Your men deserved it. The department will miss them."

Jake nodded, pretending to be moved by the man's condolences. Dickerson hardly knew Lucas and Max. His words were only that.

"Thank you, sir." Black shook their captain's hand. Jake watched his leader's expression for a slip, a hint that he was annoyed too. Nothing. "Your eulogy was appreciated by my men. It did Lucas and Max great service."

"I wish I hadn't had to do it," Dickerson replied gravely. Unlike Black his eyes lingered on the younger man. Black just looked away.

_Like trying to read a wall_ , Jake thought, annoyed. He watched Black's eyes drift over to Starr who stood on the fringe of their group with a peaceful expression on his face. The empath noticed Jake's regard and smirked at him. It took all of Jake's will not to storm over there and smack it off his face. Yeah, he understood why Starr had to be high on Bliss right now but it wasn't right. Not at Lucas' and Max's funeral. Not after they had died trying to keep scum like him off the streets.

"Lieutenant Sundhill," Dickerson said suddenly, looking over Jake's shoulder. "I was afraid you wouldn't be able to make it."

Jake stiffened, his eyes going to Black. His leader turned slowly and for once Jake was actually pleased that Black possessed the world's best poker face.

The blond-haired leader of the first JC Unit saluted Dickerson. "Sir. I apologize for missing the service. I did my best to rearrange my schedule."

"We're glad you made it, aren't we, Lieutenant Black?"

"Yes," Black said impassively, extending a gloved hand. "Thank you."

Lieutenant Andrew Sundhill would always remind Jake of a surfer. He was the quintessential golden boy: blond-haired, blue-eyed with a tan even in the winter. Quick to smile, quick to charm; it was no surprise to anyone in the department when he'd been selected to head JC1. And no one had begrudged him the assignment because he wasn't just pretty teeth and hair: Sundhill had a record that stood up to anyone's. He was well-respected by the entire department. He was a legend in his own time. _And in his own mind,_ Jake thought. A man, Jake secretly suspected, who was Black's unspoken idol.

You wouldn't guess it to look at Black, however. JC2's leader looked as thrilled to see him as he would a drug dealer. "I'm glad I've never had to return the favor for JC1," he said to Sundhill.

Sundhill enfolded Black's hand in a two-handed grip. "It's difficult, I know, lieutenant. I sympathize greatly. Three men in less than a year... you're very strong. You have my admiration."

"There's nothing to be admired for," Black said crispy, retracting his hand. "My men are dead and I'm not. That's nothing to be congratulated for."

Jake winced.

Sundhill inclined his head respectfully. "You're absolutely right. I don't envy you."

"Lieutenant Black is aware that misfortune finds even the best prepared teams," Captain Dickerson said, laying a fatherly hand upon Black's shoulder. The older man's face creased into the perfect picture of understanding and support. "That which does not destroy us makes us stronger. JC2 will be a more effective team for what we've learned here."

Russet eyes looked inward, studying something only Black could see. "Yes, sir. Yes, it will." Dickerson and Sundhill looked at him before exchanging glances over his head.

Not liking the attention being focused on his leader, Jake thrust his hand out to Sundhill. "Sergeant Jake Cole, sir. I hope you remember me. Thank you for being here."

Sundhill smiled a little at his obviousness and shook Jake's hand. "Of course I remember you, sergeant. You're the lieutenant's second-in-command." His blue eyes shifted briefly to Black. "I hear you're a source of great support in JC2."

Jake almost lost his polite smile. So, Sundhill knew about his and Black's relationship, did he? Great, just great. He wondered what other gossip had made the rounds.

"I hear you've acquired a new member," Sundhill added as if in answer. His eyes twinkled. "An empath, as I understand it. How is that working out? Think it's something that will spread to the other teams?"

He was referring to Starr as though he were a virus, which in private company Jake would have agreed with. But he would never admit that to Sundhill. No way. Jake smiled hugely. "Actually, sir, we're all looking forward to working with Agent Starr. This may give us the advantage on the streets that we've been looking for. As I'm sure Lt. Black will tell you we expect to surpass every goal we've set for ourselves with the team's new addition."

Black looked at him blankly.

Sundhill laughed, clapping Jake on the shoulder. "Nice, sergeant. Glad to hear it. I was afraid the empath would be more of a pain in the ass than a help. I'm looking forward to hearing about your exploits. I'll be following along closely. As will all of us in the department."

_Exploits?_ Jake thought, scowling inwardly. Who the hell did he think they were, a bunch of deep sea adventurers? And what was that jibe about the department? Jake could just imagine what was going down at the station: betting pools galore, everyone wagering on how badly JC2 fucked up its next big deal. Well, Jake sure as hell didn't like having Starr on the team but he wasn't going to let the freak screw things up. JC2 had a reputation to salvage.

"I'm sure you'll be impressed with what you hear," Jake said pleasantly.

Sundhill smirked. "Yes, I'm sure we will. Well, if you'll excuse me, Lieutenant Black. Sergeant Cole. I'd like to have a word with the others." Sundhill saluted the captain and nodded at Black. "I wish you luck putting your team back together. You've got your work cut out for you."

Black returned the nod wordlessly.

Captain Dickerson murmured something into Black's ear before he too walked off to make the circuit of the funeral goers. That left the men of JC2 alone and Black staring blankly at the two holes being filled with dirt.

Jake didn't hesitate, willing to be rejected. He stood behind the other man and placed his hands over the stiff shoulders. When he wasn't immediately shrugged off he began kneading the rock-hard muscles beneath the fabric.

"We're going to be fine," Jake murmured, digging in with his thumbs. Black was so tense the massage had to hurt but the other man didn't make a sound. "JC2 is solid. Bee and Haney are as strong as ever. Sola's a hard-ass but he knows his job. Starr will take some getting used to but it'll happen. Relax, Black. We're gonna be okay."

Black finally reacted then, bringing his gloved hands up to his face and covering it for a second. He immediately dropped his hands again but the action had been telling. Jake didn't care who the fuck was watching; he drew Black back against his chest and hugged him. For once, Black was too tired to fight the embrace.

"I can't make the wrong decisions," he heard his leader murmur. "I can't afford to lose another one of you. I just can't."

Jake pressed his lips against the sable hair, an intimate gesture he'd done only twice before in their five month relationship. "You have this team for a reason, baby. You can handle it and you won't make the wrong decisions. We're here to back you up. Don't forget that."

To Jake's surprise a hand squeezed his arm where it crossed over Black's chest. "Thank you."

The whispered words left him without a reply. He hugged Black tighter and turned his cheek against the brunette hair. He saw Starr watching them, an expression on his face that Jake knew the empath would never have allowed if he hadn't been high on Bliss. It made Jake chuckle.

Black roused himself at the sound. Jake sighed, knowing the time for personal indulgence was over. He could just imagine the thoughts going through Black's head, the reproach for giving into weakness and in front of the department's big shots, no less. Jake dropped his arms and gave him space.

Black half-turned and Jake saw his attention caught by Starr, standing by himself between the rows of crosses. The empath didn't seem to care about the stares he received from the other mourners. Starr had dressed as befitted the occasion and had even pulled his hair back into a loose ponytail and tucked the purple ends back under the band. But everyone knew who he was. JC2's joke. Black's joke.

Did Black see what Jake did, that Starr was a threat? Or did he see what Jake didn't want to -- the cool, beautiful lines of the empath's face, the green eyes that promised intimacy of a sort Jake could never manage? Jake didn't know what Black saw, and for once in his life Jake wished that he were a freak, capable of reading his leader's mind.

### ~~~~~

Black and Starr stood in the parking lot outside Jubilee's, the police's unofficial watering hole. Black had long since removed his coat and dress collar. He now yanked open the throat of his shirt and sighed as the constriction was released.

"Thank god," he breathed, rubbing at his throat.

He felt the weight of a stare on him and turned to find Starr looking intently at his throat. "You've got marks on your skin," the empath commented.

Black resisted the urge to pull the collar closed. It could have been a bluff.

"Looks like fingerprints," Starr said mildly.

The empath was waiting for a reaction, a defensive reply. Black knew better.

He took the offensive, stepping up to the taller man and lifting a hand to the pale face. Starr flinched before steadying, giving a rueful smile at himself. "Old habits die hard," the empath murmured. Starr remained motionless beneath Black's touch. "The trick is to put an ice pack on as soon as you get home," he said conversationally. "It helps to alleviate the bruising."

"I'll remember that," Black said curtly.

"I hope you won't have reason to."

Black didn't say anything. He used his thumb and forefinger to open a green eye wider. He studied the pupil within before dropping his hand and stepping back. "It's been four hours since I gave you the tab. How do you feel?"

Starr sighed, his usual feline glint back in his eyes. "Like coaxing you into the backseat of a craft and using my tongue to make your toes curl." He laughed at the brunette's expression. "And no, that isn't the Bliss talking, sweetheart, that's all me." He cocked a brow and placed his palm flat on Black's chest. "Interested? There's nothing like some well-administered pleasure to relieve the stress. And I'm very good at--" he ran a tongue across his lips " -- administering."

Black stepped back, breaking the contact. "Do you act like a whore to get a reaction?"

Starr laughed, pulling the band from his hair. Purple-tinged strands cascaded down his shoulders. "I _am_ a whore, sweetheart. Didn't you read my file? There's no easier way to score a hit than to trade your body for it. And no," he said with a smirk, "I am not feeling sorry for myself. That's simply how it is. You know. You've seen it."

"You're no longer on the street," Black reminded him. "You're a part of this team and the last time I checked we didn't have need for a whore. It's time you take this assignment seriously, Starr."

Pale lashes shielded the bright green eyes. "I take this more seriously than you know, sweetheart. You'd be surprised."

The empath's tone did surprise Black. Mollified somewhat, he said, "I'd like to take you to the range and test your shooting skills. Do you need to return to the house to change?"

"Will I embarrass you in front of your colleagues dressed like this?" Starr held his arms out and spun.

Black looked over the other man's long black coat, tight black pants and zippered boots. The multiple silver chains around his neck didn't help but the empath looked as conservative as he was probably ever likely to get. Black knew he should take advantage while he had the chance. "You're fine. We'll go now. I'm sorry you won't get to spend time with the others." He indicated Jubilee's behind them.

Starr rolled his eyes. "Miss out on the chance to step in puke and get hit on by drunks who'll only accuse me of seducing them in the morning? If I wanted that I'd have stayed on the street. I'm looking forward to handling your gun, Darkness. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Black just shook his head. Calyx Starr at the range. This was going to be interesting.

### ~~~~~

Jake felt like he was at a strip joint waving a dollar bill at a ten-dollar dancer. He wouldn't have been able to flag down the beleaguered bartender if he'd had a bullhorn. "I'm never gonna get a fuckin' beer," he muttered.

"Better order three when you get your turn," Bee advised.

Jubilee's was packed both with the usual off-duty officers and with most of the mourners from the service. Nothing like a good funeral to drive cops to drink.

Bee, who'd been smart enough to head straight for the bar as soon as they'd walked in, picked distractedly at the label on his beer. "I'm feeling a little unsure about Agent Starr," he began tentatively.

Jake glanced at him. "Join the club." He grinned as the bartender finally acknowledged his waving money. Three beers were slid in front of him on the hardwood, one of which he immediately tipped to his lips. "Don't turn your back on that freak whatever you do."

"What do you mean?" Bee looked back at their table, watching Haney and Sola in animated discussion. Well, Haney, anyway. Sola was nodding encouraging the motormouth. Bee smiled. "What reason do you have to mistrust him?"

"For one, he's an empath. For another, he's a junkie."

Bee turned back and stared at the surface of the bar. "He's not a junkie any longer, though, right? I mean, he can't lose it. Black has control of the Bliss."

"Sure. Like I didn't find him high on the porch this morning... Er, shit." Jake mentally smacked himself in the forehead. "Look, forget I said that. It was supposed to be on the down-low."

Bee was looking at him with a strange light in his eyes. "Starr went out and got himself a hit?"

"It's not gonna happen again." Jake waved his beer at the other man for emphasis. "Black had a talk with him. You can be damned sure Starr won't do it again. Not if he wants the continued use of his limbs."

Bee took a deep breath as if mentally gathering himself. "Alright. So he won't be OD'ing on us anytime soon. Maybe that's all that I'm afraid of. Addicts can be so unpredictable."

"Maybe it's the fact that he's a dick?" Jake offered. The suggestion made the other man relax and smile.

"Come on. You're just jealous of him," Bee accused.

Jake's eyes bulged. "Jealous? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm not blind. I saw you with Black at the cemetery, proving your point to Starr." Bee's smile faded. "Come to think of it we all saw it. You'd better be more discreet next time you want to do something like that. You don't know how Dickerson feels about relationships within the team."

Jake scoffed, taking a big swig from his bottle. "What does Dickerson care? He's screwing his way through every hooker booked at the station. He's the last person to talk."

"I'm just saying if Black ever feels like your actions threaten his job--" Bee shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past him to have you transferred."

"What?! Black would never do that. This is our leader we're talking about."

"Exactly. This is _Black_."

Jake thought about it. "Fuck. You're right. JC2 is his life." He sighed. "We really need to get that boy a hobby outside of work."

"Speaking of which--" A body pushed up against Jake's shoulder, nearly making him knock over his beer. Jake told himself to keep his cool. Sola never noticed. "What _does_ our fearless leader like to do when he's not busy busting drug lords?" the grim man asked with forced nonchalance.

"What's with all the questions?" Jake sneered, turning around. "You writing your school report on him?"

Sola smiled thinly. While their dress uniform had succeeded in making them all look like movie stars -- in Jake's opinion, anyhow -- Sola only looked more rigid. Like some military school drop-out. _Must be the perma-scowl,_ Jake decided.

"Black's my commanding officer now. The one I trust with my life. You can't blame me for wanting to get to know the man better." Sola grinned -- well, bared his teeth which Jake supposed was the man's attempt at a grin. "But Black's tough to get close to. Doesn't like to chitchat which I respect. I just want to know if there's anything we can connect on."

Jake grunted, concentrating on his beer again. "All Black does that I can tell is peck away on the computer or occasionally hit the streets for info." He held up his finger. "But I told him if he does that again I'll kick his ass. He'll get himself killed going out alone like that."

"He does manage to come up with some good info, though," Bee said thoughtfully.

"Huh, wonder how that is. Good connections he won't share?" Sola wondered.

Bee muttered something and abruptly pushed away from the bar. Jake watched him return to their table and speak a few quiet words to an officer who'd begun an intimate conversation with Haney. The officer's eyes widened before he immediately offered his seat to Bee. Bee took the vacated chair and touched Haney's knee beneath the table. Jake snorted. Hypocrite.

"Come on, buddy," Sola said with a forced joviality that made Jake wince. "You know Black better than anyone. What do I have to do?"

Jake sighed. "Look, you wanna work well with Black? The key is don't touch him, don't try to be his friend, just do your job as best you can and he'll love you for it. He may not say it but trust me, he'll love you."

A shadow fell over him. "You should know, eh, Cole? Very touching scene at the cemetery, by the way. Brought tears to my eyes. Really."

Jake lifted his eyes to Will Flaherty, JC1's second-in-command. "Fuck you."

Flaherty, a tall thin reed of a man who seemed to have been with the department since the Dawn of Man, wagged his fingers at Jake. "Fuck me? What, deciding to go legal, are you? Finally realized that Black is jailbait? How's it feel working for someone who was attending his high school prom the same night you were out booking your first bad guy?"

Jake took a pull off his beer, feeling his adrenaline beginning to run. Flaherty might be just the thing he was looking for to take the edge off the funeral. "It feels like I'm on the best goddamned team in the department. That's how it feels." Jake grinned darkly. "Oh, but that's right, you wouldn't know that feeling, would you?"

Flaherty's narrow face hardened. "Yeah, your record's good but you're also dropping like flies. You guys are nothing but tampons to Black. Who's next? The captain's fucktoy? I got fifty bucks says the fucktoy takes the hit on your next outing."

"No one's next," Jake bit out. He was intensely aware of Sola standing silently beside him, listening like some snooping reporter.

Flaherty chuckled. "What's the matter, Cole? Did I strike a nerve? Maybe the captain's fucktoy is now Black's fucktoy? Maybe he'll give Black a few lessons and give him back to you as a better ride--"

Jake split his knuckles on Flaherty's teeth. It felt good, damned good. Flaherty nearly went down but quickly regained his balance. Jake was ready for him. He blocked the fist to his jaw and returned one of his own. It missed and Jake had to jump backwards to avoid the fist driving towards his stomach. Then bodies were swarming over them, pulling them apart and Jake was left to grin at the furious sergeant from JC1. He felt Bee and Haney beside him offering support as the rest of JC1 gathered behind Flaherty.

"Not gonna waste my time on you, Flaherty." Jake shook off the arms that restrained him. "My friends were buried today and I'm not gonna disrespect them by spilling JC1's blood. Lucas and Max, strangely enough, held some respect for your team."

"The feeling's not mutual," Flaherty said, spitting blood onto the floor.

Jake would have dove at him if it weren't for Sola's arms around his chest holding him back. "Not here," the man warned. "You don't want the captain hearing about this."

Breathing heavily, Jake nodded and stepped back. "You need to change that attitude, Flaherty," he snarled as he and the rest of JC2 made their way to the door. "Better yet we'll do it for you. Keep your eye on us, boys. The lessons begin now."

Shouts and catcalls followed them out but Jake was proud of himself for not responding. The crisp air outside the bar felt good against his sweating face.

"You're absolutely nuts," Haney muttered. He was grinning though, his boyish face looking up at Jake admiringly. "Nice hit, by the way. I think you knocked out a tooth."

Jake smiled. "Yeah? I hope so. Maybe it'll improve his face." He rubbed at his cut knuckles. "So now that I'm worked up let's say we go through those drills Black wanted us to do. You up for that, Sola?"

Still looking back at Jubilee's, Sola nodded. "Absolutely." He looked at Jake and the others and pulled his lips into a smile. "I'm anxious to see what Black's been teaching you."

_Why do I feel like he's a goddamned mole?_ Jake thought to himself.

What did it matter? In another couple of hours he was going to find out exactly why Sola was on his team. And if Jake wasn't impressed by what he found Sola sure as hell was going to pay for it.

### CHAPTER FOUR

"Since it's not a weekday hopefully there won't be many officers here," Black said as he led Calyx down the long walkway that spanned the indoor range. "It's usually quiet here on Sundays."

"Trying to respect the lord on the one day you guys aren't out shooting innocent bystanders?" Calyx asked brightly.

Black's look was dry. "Something like that."

They paused before a narrow cubicle which held a white computerized podium. Down the range hung a blue screen on a wire which could be adjusted for distance. There were only a handful of other shooters currently practicing but Black looked around in obvious concern.

"If it becomes too much, let me know," he told Calyx for what must have been the third time. He handed over the range gun with some reluctance. "I can't give you Bliss while you're handling a firearm. But I don't want you in pain. We'll just leave."

"You're such a softie, Darkness. I'm moved. But you forget that I'm a professional." Calyx smirked. "I'm used to feeling other people. I do it all the time. Sometimes I even enjoy it."

Black ignored the innuendo and stepped to the side as the empath tested the weight of the gun. It wasn't Calyx's issued gun. That particular weapon was locked up in the locker back home. For purposes of evaluating his skill Black had checked him out one of the range's laser guns, a weapon that didn't fire a projectile but instead emitted a laser beam that would register on the pre-selected practice screen. Black had selected "Turandot Bridge, Hostage" on the range computer. Fifty feet down the range the screen showed a scene of the bridge bathed in moonlight. Three masked men were running down the asphalt.

Calyx looked at the scene and sighed. "This brings back such fond memories." A masked assailant darted across the screen, one arm wrapped around a screaming hostage. "I feel like I'm back home."

"You're being timed," Black reminded him, watching the screen.

Calyx sighed. Darkness was no fun sometimes. Well -- most times actually, but the empath was willing to overlook Black at his most stoic because that presented a challenge of sorts. Calyx wasn't used to people ignoring his flirtations or taking his empath powers in stride. It was... different.

" _Starr_..."

But at the moment he wouldn't have minded a little play.

Calyx raised the gun in a single-handed grip, his body turned slightly, feet spread. He took a breath and as he breathed out, began firing. He'd learned that particular trick while 'listening' to some street cops who had been shooting cans in a deserted field. Excitement and anticipation on the inhale -- calm concentration on the exhale to prevent yourself from aiming too high.

Calyx kept both eyes open as he tracked one of the video thugs and took him out with a shot between the shoulder blades. Another computerized thug spun, gun extended, but he never got the shot off as Calyx dropped him with a shot to the heart. The remaining thug with the hostage was a little more difficult to hit since his hostage kept getting in the way but he too, at last fell in a heap to the asphalt of the bridge. Calyx lowered the gun, smiling.

"Ten seconds too long," Black commented, loading another program into the range system.

Calyx couldn't even be angry. It was typical Black. Leaning one hip against the console as the dark-haired man worked the controls, Calyx let his eyes drift over the man's profile.

"I'll do better," the empath said easily.

Black's eyes lifted to him. "I know you will. You have good technique. I'd like to see how you do on the move but I can see that your rating is legitimate."

Unexpectedly pleased by the compliment, Calyx moved forward slightly. He noted how Black paused a moment before continuing with the programming as though the empath weren't there. It made Calyx smile. "When I'm moving, I'm so much better, you know. Fast or slow -- however you want me to do it--" he lowered his voice, "-- I'll take your breath away."

Black stopped and looked up. His expression was thoughtful, his emotions carefully shielded. "That's how you handle other people's emotions, isn't it? You manipulate what they're feeling so it won't be as painful for you."

Calyx straightened, too surprised to respond.

"You use sex to manipulate them."

The empath lowered his lashes, his mouth twitching with amusement. "I don't need to manipulate anything, sweetheart. People look at me and naughty things just naturally come to mind." He shrugged, brushing a hand deliberately across his throat, drawing Black's eyes there. "I might encourage others to think about sex when they're around me but that's only because it's so easy. People _want_ to be dirty. They just need the excuse. You all do."

Black's eyebrow lifted at his use of the word 'you'.

Calyx tapped his forehead. "Anyone who's not a psypath. It's a sale day at a department store in most people's minds. Jumbled, noisy thoughts, conflicting emotions. Such a headache, really. You're the only one who has any order in your mind. Or maybe as I suspect you're just hiding all of the particularly juicy bits where I can't see them. Is that it? Are you holding out on me, you tease?"

Black punched in some codes. "Nothing that would interest you. You're only interested in sex. I have more important things to think about."

"The perfect answer of the sexually repressed," Calyx said with a delighted laugh. "Now do you understand why I'm interested in you? You're a locked door, sweetheart. You give no one a key and you never answer the door when anyone knocks." He licked his lips. "Ah, but sometimes, sometimes I get a peek through the keyhole and what I find there..." The empath's voice grew husky. "It's like glimpsing you as you're stripping. Underneath all of that darkness is something hungry, something desperate, something, oh, so deliciously vulnerable." The empath felt something tickle his senses. It made his pulse quicken. "The more you suppress it the stronger it grows, doesn't it?" Beside the other man's ear, he murmured, "I enjoy feeling your desire, the lust that sometimes catches you by surprise. I get turned-on when I can sense you fighting it. The struggle makes it so much sweeter to me."

"I'm not fighting anything," Black said, pulling away. But there was a faint pink tinge to his dusky cheeks. Calyx could practically see the iron control Black was holding over his emotions.

"To paraphrase Shakespeare, I think you protest too much," Calyx murmured. He caught Black's hand and quickly pulled it beneath the flaps of the long duster he wore. Black's expression was frozen into one of horrified fascination. "Curious?" Calyx whispered, drawing the other man's hand slowly toward his body. "Want to know what it feels like to just give in?"

"Stop this."

But Calyx didn't need his empathy to sense the uncertainty Black was emitting. Risking castration, Calyx pressed the trembling hand to his groin. Black's hand was hot against him. The empath groaned at the sudden flare of desire that swelled in his cock.

"Why can't you just give in for a little while?" he whispered, watching Black from beneath his lashes. Black was still staring at where his hand disappeared beneath Calyx's jacket. "I won't hurt you. You won't hurt me. Just pleasure, Darkness. Surely you miss it? I know it's been so long for you..."

But the moment he spoke the words the empath knew he'd said the wrong thing. Black yanked his hand back. Calyx let him. The flush on Black's cheeks faded swiftly as he determinedly completed the programming and stepped back. "You're confusing what you sense from other people with what you can't sense from me." His sable eyes blazed. "Get this straight, Starr: I'm. Not. Interested."

"Maybe," Calyx murmured, swallowing his disappointment, "then again maybe you simply can't admit it. Not even to yourself."

Deciding to take pity on his leader for the time being the empath turned his attention to the screen. Black had chosen "Dance Club, Robbery". "Someday," the empath said casually, "I'll take you dancing at a club like that. I'd like to see you fight your feelings on a dance floor, Darkness. Skin to skin, hip to hip with me and no place to hide -- I bet you'd be amazing."

Not waiting for a response, Calyx raised the laser gun and the screen exploded into motion, dancers and club lighting flashing in a dizzying whirlwind. It was a robbery scenario with several masked thugs robbing the club's two bars. Shots rang out. Young dancers screamed and ran across the screen. It was difficult to separate the clubbers from the robbers and the uncertain lighting didn't help. Calyx found himself frowning a little, concentrating on the beam of his gun as it played across the screen.

"You must lose yourself, sometimes."

Calyx almost took his eyes off the screen the comment was so unexpected. He fired twice, taking down one thug and missing the other. "Lose myself how?"

"When you feel so much from other people you must lose track of what it is that _you_ feel." Black paused as the empath accidentally shot a female clubber in the leg. "So do you? Do you find it hard to separate yourself?"

Calyx wounded another thug but also shot a bartender in the process. No one had ever asked him such a question before. He hadn't really thought of it that much himself.

"I -- it happens, I suppose," he said distractedly, firing and missing.

"Do you even know for sure what your own feelings are?"

Two more clubbers went down screaming from errant bullets. Calyx lowered the gun. The screen froze.

"Why do you care?" Calyx demanded, annoyed that his concentration had been broken by a single, ridiculous question.

Black took the gun from him, careful that their fingers didn't touch. He inspected the gun before raising his eyes to the taller man. "Because if you don't know what you feel you can't know what you want. You think you want me, but you don't. Not really. You only want me to feel something for you. You're used to reflecting other people's emotions back at them and when you can't do that with me, it frustrates you. You view me as a challenge. But that's all this is, Starr."

Calyx stared at him, any glib reply lost to him. "I had no idea you were a telepath, sweetheart."

Russet eyes shuttered. Black frowned, turning to face the screen. "And I had no idea you're so afraid to face the truth."

"There is no truth," Calyx returned. "Everything is perception. Life is what you choose to show yourself." He smiled suddenly. "The world shows me lust and greed and anger and hate. If it's my feelings or someone else's it doesn't matter. That's how it is. I can't block it so I live with it." He shrugged. "So to answer your question: maybe you're right: perhaps I _am_ truly myself only when I'm not. Only when I'm high on Bliss."

"That's a sad thought."

"It's the only time the masses are silent, sweetheart."

"And yet when they're gone you miss them," Black said quietly, staring at the frozen club scene.

Calyx said nothing, a rare unease settling over him. Black sounded almost as if he understood and Calyx had never experienced such empathy from a non-psypath before. The cold hard truth was that no one ever cared about a freak's viewpoint. As long as a psypath's attention wasn't focused on them people were willing to give him a wide berth.

Calyx watched Black reactivate the simulation. Black moved like a stalking panther, every action deliberate and controlled. Steady, precise shifts of his shoulders and arms were his only movements as he tracked his targets with the laser beam. Two perpetrators down. Three. Four. Black didn't waste a shot. Not a single bystander was harmed. Black was obviously very familiar with a gun. Familiar too, with dealing with psypaths, Calyx reminded himself. In leading JC2 in the fight against Bliss Black had a perspective that few others did. It wasn't empathy or telepathy; it was experience on the street.

The realization was somewhat disappointing to Calyx, which amused him. Since when did he need someone to understand him? _You're becoming too obsessed with him, sweetheart. Better rein it in._

A feat that was easy to accomplish when a pair of men entered their cubicle.

"I knew I'd find you here," Captain Dickerson said, sounding pleased with himself. "Even on a day like today, Lieutenant Black doesn't relax an inch."

Calyx smiled thinly at the captain, grateful that the older man was wearing a tab. He hated feeling the man's greasy lust. It was like taking a bath in used vegetable oil. "Captain Dickwad, come to watch us shoot off? Or perhaps give us some tips on how to handle our weapons? I know you handle _yours_ all the time."

Dickerson chuckled. "I see Black hasn't tamed that mouth of yours yet."

Calyx ignored him and turned his attention to the other newcomer. Calyx's interest sparked. He dragged a lock of purple-tinged hair across his lips as he regarded the captain's companion, the blond-haired man he had seen at the funeral. "And who's your handsome friend? Is this the big bad boy from JC1 that I've heard such flattering things about?"

"Starr, can it," Black said. JC2's leader set down the gun and regarded Lieutenant Sundhill warily. "I'm surprised to see you both here."

Sundhill was staring at Calyx with an obvious urge to laugh that was only barely restrained. "Lieutenant Black, I consider myself lucky to finally meet your newest team member."

He was wearing a tab as well but Calyx could read the man even without his empathy. Calyx teased the lock of hair he held, sliding it seductively around the edges of his lips. Sundhill's eyes were glued to the motion. Calyx smiled and let the tip of his tongue play out a little. "Mmm, why is it, I wonder, that the boys of the JC Units are all so -- impressive," he said, deliberately running his eyes across Sundhill's broad shoulders and down his torso to his crotch.

He heard Black mutter, "Jesus Christ."

Sundhill grinned even more, his eyes darkening. "Nice new addition, Black. Very nice indeed." Sundhill glanced at the other lieutenant. "If you find yourself with your hands full I'd be happy to take him off your hands and train him for you."

Fiery emotion flashed through the empath's head. Calyx sucked in his breath, his eyes shooting to Black in surprise. But the brown-haired leader of JC2 merely nodded in polite response. His face was a blank canvas.

Captain Dickerson, unaware of anything going on, looked past Calyx and Black to the shooting screen. "How'd our little empath do?"

Black slid Calyx a warning glance. "As well as you claimed. A little more training in maneuvering and handling other weapons and he should be fine."

The captain had taken off his overcoat and was carrying it over one arm. He used it to motion towards the hall bisecting the range. "Excellent to hear, lieutenant. Then if you can spare him a moment, I'd like to do a little briefing of Agent Starr on my own." He smiled at the empath. "See how things are going from an empath's side."

"This end's fine as it is, thank you," Calyx drawled.

Dickerson just smiled. "Now come along like a good little freak, Starr. I've missed you."

A stab of irritation and anger that was not his own made the empath look to Black. JC2's leader however, looked back calmly. "I'll be waiting," Black said.

_Shit,_ Calyx thought. But his smile for Captain Dickhead could have given Sundhill's a run for the money.

### ~~~~~

Captain Dickerson kicked the range commander out of his office and ushered Calyx inside. The sound of the lock clicking into place didn't affect the empath's smile in the least. He swept inside and surveyed the small room.

"I would've thought you'd found some new playthings by now. Surely you're not still hard-up for little 'ol me?" he began.

A heavy palm struck him across the face. Calyx cursed, gingerly touching his tongue to his split lip. "Guess you're not getting any?" he asked.

"If I wanted to fuck you I'd do it on the range in front of everyone just to remind you of your place," the captain growled as he took the seat at the large metal desk that took up most of the room. "But I'm not interested in that just yet. I just got my physical back and I'm disease free. I'd like to remain that way."

Taking the man's position behind the desk as a good sign that he wasn't about to get screwed, Calyx lowered himself into the seat across. "So it's not me you want, hmmm? I wish I could say I'm disappointed." Deciding the cut on his lip wouldn't mar his looks too badly, Calyx allowed himself a small, dark smile. "So is it my luscious lieutenant you're after? I received the most interesting readings from him last night."

Dickerson's eyes widened minutely; only someone looking for the reaction would have seen it. Then the older man smiled smugly. "Nice try. If there's one thing Lieutenant Black does well it's keep a secret. What he and I do is none of your business. However--" the larger man leaned forward, pinning the empath with his gaze " -- what you and he do is very much _my_ concern."

Calyx arched a brow in amusement. "Jealous? Why I thought you _wanted_ me to be the lieutenant's evening nightcap. Having second thoughts, Captain Dick?"

"Shut up. I want more from you than that. When you finally slither your way into his bed, I want you to be the good little whore that you are and stay there. One time isn't going to be enough."

"You demand so much of me," Calyx murmured, but inside, he was smirking. Did Captain Dickerson honestly think Calyx only intended a one night fling with Black? Having Darkness only once would be a torture beyond imagining. But Calyx wasn't stupid; he was from the streets, after all. "You're asking a lot. That man is like a robot. Gorgeous, yes, but I imagine his sexual technique will be about as thrilling as making love to a blender." He cocked his head, thoughtfully. "Although I have tried using various kitchen utensils at one time or another and some of them weren't bad..."

"Enough with the idiocy," the captain snapped. "Become his lover and you'll get everything I promised you."

"I.D.s, bar codes, the complete set-up in the Silent City?" Calyx confirmed in a sharp voice. Since Dickerson had made him this offer two months ago it had been sitting in the back of Calyx's mind like a diamond he was afraid to take to a jeweler's for fear it would turn out to be fake. It was the dream he was afraid to believe. But he yearned to. Oh, how he yearned to. Escape to the Silent City meant not only freedom but a chance to find a telepath strong enough to help him in his quest for personal revenge. "An entirely new identity that can never be traced or broken. Even by your boys?"

Captain Dickerson nodded, studying the empath over steepled fingers. He smiled suddenly and Calyx did not like the look at all. "However, I require a little more."

"You've already demanded that I sleep with him more than once," Calyx testily reminded him.

Dickerson was unmoved. "I want you to report to me on the state of his mental health." His smile deepened at the empath's surprise. "He's under stress and he suffered a concussion a few days ago. He's reported headaches to the staff doctor but I want you to feel him out in the way a doctor can't. He's leading one of the most dangerous elite forces in the city. I can't have him buckling under the pressure and becoming a hazard to us. You'll make regular reports to me about his condition."

Calyx frowned, thinking back to all the times he had tried to read Black. It was like trying to read Braille without using your fingers. Then again Captain Dickerson didn't need to know everything. Calyx was good at feeding people what they wanted to swallow. He smiled slyly at the older man. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. No part of his body or mind will remain a secret to me. Or to you."

Dickerson grinned, the sight making Calyx want to stick his finger down his throat. _Scheming sleazeball._ Calyx almost felt sorry for Black. The man obviously considered Captain Dickerson some sort of father figure. If only he knew.

_But what do I care?_ Calyx asked himself. His ticket to freedom from both the JCPD and those who wanted him dead in Juxtapose City was within his grasp. All he had to do was reach for it. Years of feeding off the streets, of fending off madness with the equal evil of Bliss -- all of it would soon be over if he pulled this off. Sanctuary in the Silent City. Just the thought made Calyx want to smile. And once he was there... revenge. Whatever it took to get him this he would do it.

The captain's voice broke into his thoughts. "Now come over here, Starr, and earn your keep."

Revulsion and self-disgust did nothing to mar Calyx's smirk as he stood and rounded the desk. "Don't you ever worry," he purred as he dropped to his knees between the other man's spread legs, "that one day I'm going to get sick of this and bite your dick off?"

The sudden wilting of the captain's erection was worth the slap to the face.

### ~~~~~

"So is the empath as good as you claimed or are you fudging for the captain's sake?" Sundhill asked with a wink.

Black crossed his arms and leaned against one wall of the shooting cubicle. He watched the other lieutenant inspect the range gun. "His technique is solid; he must have seen a lot of shooting. He's a little loose in his movements but that can be easily remedied. After he's gone through more training with my team he'll be effective enough to not be a detriment."

"And you _are_ extremely effective," Sundhill remarked. He looked up at Black and he smiled. "I'm sure this will come out sounding like I'm being condescending but I'm proud of you, lieutenant. JC2 is living up to every expectation the captain has set for you and not only that you're exceeding them. You're giving my team a run for the money."

It did sound condescending but Black found himself not caring that much as a seed of warmth took root in his stomach.

"Thank you," he said. "The truth of the matter though, is that JC2 is only as good as it is because you've set the precedent. You've given us a goal to shoot for. JC1 is the standard for us all."

Sundhill set the gun aside, regarding Black with interest. "Do you really think so?" He grinned. "And as obvious as that sounded no, I'm not fishing for compliments."

Black's lips twitched. It was hard to remain stoic when Sundhill grinned at him like that. Andrew Sundhill smiled at you as though he shared a secret with you. To not give one in return seemed petty and juvenile. That was the last impression Black wanted to give to the man. When Black had begun his tutelage under Captain Dickerson it was Lieutenant Sundhill whom Black had tried to model himself after. The man's record was impeccable. His charisma added to his legend. In the JCPD it was Sundhill, not Dickerson, whom everyone aspired to be. Unfortunately his and Black's styles of leadership differed wildly. Sundhill could be a bit of a cowboy while Black stuck rigidly to proven styles and methods.

"The captain filled me in on some of the details of the Wyatt Street bust," Black said tentatively. "The way you adjusted your methods at the last minute when you found out that the deal had been compromised -- it wasn't textbook but it was inspired."

"It was a stroke of luck," Sundhill said with a self-deprecating laugh. "If I hadn't found that side stairwell we would have been cornered like mice. No inspiration there, just pure survival mode."

"You tricked the perps into circling around on each other and then you surrounded them. You apprehended everyone."

Sundhill tilted his head to the side. "So I did." He looked at Black and Black sincerely hoped none of the admiration he felt for the other man showed on his face. "You study a lot of the other teams' work, don't you, Lieutenant Black? Dickerson has mentioned that you're something of a scholar of strategy. I'm impressed with how much you _do_ know. Far more than I. And you're so much younger--"

"I've got a lot to learn," Black cut in, disliking any mention of his age and by extension his limited field experience. "I'm doing the best I can. It seems to be working."

"No need to get defensive," Sundhill said, smiling. His blue eyes gleamed as they looked over Black. "What I was going to say is that you're far younger than I was when I received my first command and yet you're doing considerably better than I did. There's no question in my mind that you should be the captain's prodigy. You have a natural aptitude for this stuff. If you weren't already his I'd make you mine."

Black was suddenly very, very glad that Starr was nowhere in sight. He felt heat in his cheeks and immediately scolded himself for responding like a girl with a crush. Not for the first time his eyes flicked to Sundhill's left hand. Of course there would never be a ring there -- letting a criminal know you were married was an impossibility -- but Black couldn't help looking for a tan line, an impression, anything to hint that Sundhill was anything other than available. Like always, he found no such thing.

Not good.

"You should come down to our side of town," Sundhill went on. He looked amused but Black didn't trust anything he was reading from the other man while his own senses were in disarray. "I think I'd enjoy spending a couple of hours with you going over a few of the tricks I've picked up here and there. Would you be interested?"

Black swallowed. "My time is limited, as I'm sure yours is--"

Sundhill took a step closer. Black had to look up slightly to meet his eyes. "We kill bad people for a living, Lieutenant Black. We need to make time for the more pleasant aspects of life or else we'll end up as little more than walking corpses. I would enjoy having you at my place. Or don't you feel the same about me?"

Black refused to read more into that statement than he should. "Of course I'd like to. I'm honored but--"

Sundhill's handsome face definitely held amusement as he watched Black try to back out. "Don't insult me by refusing. I could use a nice diversion. After the events of late I'm sure you could too." He raised a hand to Black's shoulder. "Let me entertain you. It will be instructive as well as fun, I guarantee it."

"Well, well. Should I be jealous?"

Black reacted instinctively to the sound of Starr's voice: he imagined steel walls slamming up in his head. If he was too late to hide what he'd been feeling Starr's expression didn't show it. Black moved to the side, letting Sundhill's hand slide from his shoulder. Black could have indulged himself and pretended that the other lieutenant had turned the touch into a caress but Black didn't believe in fooling himself if he could help it.

"Call my PRU," he told Sundhill calmly. "Leave me your schedule and we'll work something out."

Sundhill's eyes glinted with pleasure. "I'll do that. Just don't tell the others, right? They seem to enjoy believing that you and I are at each other's throats."

As the other lieutenant laughed, Black cleared his throat nervously. Sundhill winked and turned to face Starr and Captain Dickerson.

"Everything go alright, sir?"

Dickerson looked at the blond lieutenant with an odd smile on his face and nodded. "Everything went perfectly. Agent Starr is progressing nicely." He glanced at Starr but the empath's attention was focused doggedly on Black.

Black returned the empath's intense look, wondering at its source. He doubted that the other man could be jealous. Starr didn't strike him as the type to grow attached to any one person in particular much less him. He'd given the empath every reason to believe he wasn't interested. Black wanted nothing to do with an empath. That was a road he knew better than to travel.

But Starr didn't seem to appreciate the determination of Black's thoughts. Green eyes were narrowed slightly as they jumped between Black and Sundhill.

"It's probably time that we return to the house," Black said, breaking the awkward silence. He turned to his captain. "Anything else you need from us, sir?"

Dickerson waved him off. "Lieutenant, you need to take some time away from everything. I'm ordering you and your team to take a break for the remainder of the week. I don't want to see you anywhere near the department facilities, do you understand?"

Black ground his teeth together. "Yes, sir."

Dickerson studied him much like a teacher would a stubborn student. "Lieutenant, I mean it."

"I understand, sir." He saluted and pretended not to see Sundhill's conspiratorial grin.

Once the other two men had left the cubicle and headed towards the front doors Black grabbed the range gun. "Let's go."

"Oh, but don't you want to follow the shiny Lieutenant Sundhill?" Starr asked, batting his lashes innocently. "I mean, since the two of you _do_ have that secret relationship he was referring to."

Black abruptly confronted the empath. "Don't tell me you're jealous. Just don't. You and I have a working relationship. Despite your delusions to the contrary -- which I don't understand at all since I did nothing to contribute to them \-- you and I are not equals with the possibility of engaging in a relationship. I am your commanding officer. I have the power to put you back on the street if you don't obey my orders. Is that clear to you, Agent Starr?"

Starr looked about to argue. Then the empath lowered his head and shook it as if mocking himself. When he raised it again the beautiful lines of his face were smooth and worry-free. "Answer me one question, sweetheart, and I'll leave you alone for the time being."

"This isn't negotiable, Starr."

The empath continued without care. "If you weren't an officer in the JCPD and if I weren't an empath would you still choose Lieutenant Sundhill over me?"

Frustration made Black take a deep breath. "You just don't get it, do you? There is no choosing. You don't know me and I don't know you. You're panting after me like a dog in heat but that's just lust."

"What's wrong with lust?" Starr challenged, his green eyes flashing with unexpected passion. "It makes me feel alive. When was the last time _you_ felt alive? When was it, Darkness? Was it on the street with your team when you thought you were going to die? Was it when you were about to have sex with Sergeant Cole? I'll bet it's the first and that's sad enough to bring tears to my eyes. But I can change that for you, sweetheart. I can reawaken everything you've buried. I can bring you back to life. I'll tell you this a hundred times until it finally pierces that thick, beautiful skull of yours: no one will ever know you better than I can. That I can promise you."

But Black just shook his head. "You think that's an offer. I hear it as a threat."

Starr's eyes widened. For once he looked without a smart retort. Black didn't give him time to recover. "We're going home. I don't trust the others not to have killed each other by now."

He expected a sarcastic comment but Starr remained silent. Black didn't know which was worse: the knowledge that Starr had succeeded in goading him to reveal a weakness or the fact that he'd pretty much guaranteed that the empath would eventually act on it.

### CHAPTER FIVE

Black was thankful that the team had traveled to the funeral that afternoon in two electro-crafts. The thought of having to ride his bike with Starr wrapped around him was enough to make him cringe. As it was, the silence in the craft was sharp and taut as Black drove them back to the house. Starr stared at Black's profile the entire time, obviously still upset about what he thought he'd seen between Black and Sundhill.

Black ignored him. He didn't care if Starr was jealous. He didn't care what Starr thought at all beyond how it affected the way the team functioned. Starr struck him as the high-maintenance type, demanding attention with either his flamboyant appearance or his in-your-face sexuality. Black didn't have time to coddle that type of personality. The last thing he needed was someone insisting on a level of interest he simply couldn't muster.

Their boxy gray housing complex was a sight for sore eyes. Starr didn't wait for Black to shut off the engine. He bolted inside the house leaving the other man to hook up the charging unit. That was fine with Black. If Starr was being petulant that meant he was thinking about himself and not thinking about ways of taking advantage of what Black had revealed to him. Black would just as soon pretend that his inadvertent challenge to the empath had never been uttered.

The Clubhouse was silent when he entered it. He assumed that the other men were in the Dugout watching T.V. or playing video games to take their minds off of what had happened this morning. Black hesitated and then jogged upstairs to his room to change. Starr's door was already shut.

Dressed more comfortably in jeans and a blue button-down shirt, he entered the Dugout and headed for the living room. Sure enough, Jake, Haney and Bee were sprawled across the sofas, watching a baseball game.

"Where's Sola?" he asked.

"In the computer room," Jake replied. He studied Black, doing his best to look casual. "So, uh, how'd it go at the range? Are we down one teammate?"

Black heard the hope in the other man's voice. He shook his head as he swatted Jake's feet to make room on the sofa. "Starr did fine."

Jake scowled. "Too bad. Means I'll have to find some other way to get rid--"

Black glared at him.

"--of the cockroaches I saw in the kitchen the other day," Jake mumbled, returning his attention to the game.

Black looked at the other men, not missing the way Bee had removed his hand from Haney's knee to return it to his own lap. Black sighed inwardly. A problem, that. He didn't look forward to addressing it. Maybe later.

"How did the training session go?" he asked Bee. "Did you do the drills I outlined for you?"

"Volume: ten," Bee said in a clear voice. The television quieted. He nodded at Black, satisfaction beaming on his cherubic face. "Yes, sir. Did the Cat's Tail, Southwest Turn and Wide Scatter," he said, ticking off the various maneuvers that the team regularly employed during missions. "Sola's quick. He picked up the 'Tail right away and he fell right into Wide Scatter after the third try. He said R&R does a similar move. He'll be a real asset in the field, Black."

Black felt a relieved smile touch his lips. "That's good to hear," he said quietly. Actually, it was the best news he'd heard all day.

"Except the asshole nearly broke my wrist," Jake grumbled.

Black threw Jake an amused look. "Yeah," Bee said, chuckling softly, "I forgot to add that Sergeant Sola possesses an impressive knack for getting into the combat mindset."

"If that's what you want to call it," Jake snapped, rubbing at his wrist. He glared nails when Haney began to snicker. "Yeah, laugh it up, kid. Be grateful that it wasn't _your_ hand getting twisted off while Sola shouted 'Let go of the gun!' in your ear." He huffed. "I wasn't even fucking armed."

"Big baby," Haney muttered, trying to suppress a grin.

"Um, would you like to see the training vids?" Bee asked quickly as Jake started to growl at Haney. Bee raised his voice again. "Video: C26."

The game on the screen disappeared, replaced by footage of the men doing their training maneuvers. In each corner of the screen was a shot of the same scene shot from a different angle thanks to the many embedded cameras around the training room. Black leaned forward to watch.

### ~~~~~

Calyx Starr never ran away. Well, not until it was absolutely necessary and that definitely wasn't the case in this instance. It was embarrassing to show jealousy -- hell, to show any emotion at all. He was an empath, master of emotions. He wished he could his reaction back. But hiding away from Black wasn't going to help improve matters much. Annoyed with himself, Calyx left his bedroom and coasted down the stairs. If anyone should be running it should be Darkness. Calyx had to keep reminding himself that _he_ was the one holding all the cards in this situation.

Downstairs it was quiet, most of the lights off. He guessed that the rest of the team was in the Dugout. As he passed the computer room he noticed light shining from beneath the door. Calyx immediately opened it and entered.

He expected to find Black's lush sable hair bent over the computer monitor not Sergeant Sola's crisp buzz cut. Calyx inwardly groaned as the man spun around in his chair.

"What are you doing here?" Sola demanded. One hand flew to the back of his ear, checking for the Bliss tablet.

Calyx didn't need his empathy to tell that the other man was feeling panicked at having been caught doing something he shouldn't. It was written all over Sola's face.

"What're you up to?" Calyx said lazily, leaning against the doorframe. "Trying to hack into the JCPD computer system? Or something more mundane? Renewing your subscription to Psycho Babes Monthly?"

"Ha-ha," Sola said, peeling his lips off his teeth into a close approximation of a grin. "Psycho Babes Monthly \-- yeah, that's good, Starr. What do you subscribe to -- Freaks Weekly? Or can you even read? You were probably raised in some alley."

Calyx smiled. "Why don't you ask your mother?" He backed up, hands raised innocently when Sola started to rise out of his chair. "Just a little joke between teammates. We _are_ teammates you know. You watch my back, I watch yours."

"Yeah, we'll see about that won't we?" Sola snorted, turning around to click something on the computer. The screen changed to the JCPD logo screensaver. Sola stood and approached Calyx in the doorway. "Sure, I'll watch your back, freak. You'd better hope that no one tries to bury a knife in it though, because I may be looking the other way when it happens."

Calyx sighed, rolling his eyes. "So dramatic. If I didn't know better I'd say you're suffering from a classic case of homosexual denial."

Calyx ducked beneath the fist that swung towards his head. Dancing back into the computer room with a wide grin, Calyx wagged his finger. "Temper, temper. You're trying to get on our leader's good side aren't you? It wouldn't help your case if you beat up the resident empath."

Red-faced, Sola glared at the other man. "It's just a matter of time, Starr. One of these days Black won't be around. Too bad if the freak gets accidentally taken out by friendly fire, yeah?"

With a last dark sneer, Sola left, slamming the door behind him.

Calyx shook his head. He would have to make sure that Black gave the psycho an emergency supply of Bliss tabs to ensure he never ran out. The empath shuddered to think what feeling Sola 'naked' would be like now that the man had given free rein to his prejudice.

His eyes fell to the computer Sola had just vacated. Eyebrow quirking, Calyx sat down at the terminal and checked the browser. Ah, Sola had been too distracted to clear the cache. Calyx brought up the department's human resources page. Sola had been looking at his new teammates' personnel files. No surprise there.

Calyx looked at his own file. "Need to upload a new picture," he sighed, gazing with disgust at his fuzzy, less-than-flattering mug shot. Honestly, it looked as though someone had hosed him down with water before taking the photo. That had definitely not been the case. Calyx remembered quite clearly looking especially hot that night because his new dealer friend was an attractive, blue-eyed red-head. Too bad said red-head would later turn out to be an undercover officer. What a waste of a good outfit.

Tsk-ing, Calyx scrolled through the long list of his dubious 'offenses'. Petty theft... mmm, maybe. Calyx couldn't quite remember that incident. Assault on an officer... yes, he supposed kneeing a cop in the balls who'd tried to force Calyx to give him head counted as assault. Dealing a controlled substance, under the influence of the same... absolutely, guilty as sin. Prostitution... not always. Calyx grinned. Sometimes he gave it away for free.

He looked through the rest of his stuff and found nothing new. Captain Dickerson hadn't altered anything despite their 'arrangement'. Boring.

Sola had brought up the other men's files as well and Calyx briefly scanned them. Nothing exciting there either. Bee had been in the marines for a few years before joining the JCPD. Haney and Cole had both followed the usual progression from the Academy up through the department's ranks. Calyx scanned the brain-dulling letters of recommendation that led to each man being selected for JC2. Calyx found one little tidbit of notice: Bee had been suspended once for assault on a fellow officer. Interesting, but not exciting. Calyx found more entertainment snickering at Cole's Academy photo. Cole looked like a hick from Nebraska. Come to think of it he _still_ looked like a hick from Nebraska.

Calyx gave the rest of the files a cursory glance but his main interest, as he was sure was Sola's, was the smallest file. Unlike the other men's files Black's consisted of only a medical record, his proof of graduation from the Academy and a handful of recommendations from some bigwigs in the department. These citations, Calyx noted curiously, all managed to cite Black's commitment and dedication to the job without referring to any specific accomplishment whatsoever. If Calyx didn't know better he'd say they were fudged.

Calyx read a little further. On paper Black appeared to exist only at the Academy. Nothing before, nothing after. Calyx found nothing about Black's parents, where he'd been born, his schooling. Nothing in the files hinted at what Black had done after leaving the Academy -- the man could have left the country for all the information that was available on his whereabouts. Black appeared out of nowhere to complete his training and then vanished again. To Calyx it was as though Black had attended the Academy to prove that he was real and for no other reason.

Calyx pulled up Black's medical report. Even this was sketchy. First name was left blank, last name listed as Black, male, age twenty-three. Height: five feet, ten inches. Weight: one hundred seventy pounds. For some reason hair and eye color had been left blank. The attending physician at Black's most recent physical had declared the lieutenant as fit as a fiddle with no ailments to speak of beyond an occasional headache which the doctor had chalked up to tension.

Frowning, Calyx dug further but there was nothing more to be found. The rest of Black's files either didn't exist or were listed as 'Sealed by order #CD445-62'. The 'CD' part Calyx guessed referred to Carl Dickerson, the Captain. Calyx fell back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. It was almost as if Black had been invented. Either that or Black was undercover within the department, which sounded strange but Calyx wasn't about to dismiss any possibility considering his own deal with the captain. Calyx straightened and looked at the screen again.

"Darkness, my man of mystery," he breathed. "Are you deliberately trying to catch my interest or is this something you just can't help?" He stared at the photo of Black that presumably had been taken upon graduation from the Academy. It looked like it had been taken yesterday.

### ~~~~~

Jake's eyes rolled up as his head fell back against the back of the sofa. This was the -- what? -- fourth time they had viewed this vid? Twice from one angle and twice from another. How much more did Black need to see? The fucking sweat coming out of their pores?

"Video: stop," Black announced, rubbing a hand down his face. He had long since vacated his spot beside Jake on the sofa and was now kneeling on the carpet in front of the screen to better see the details.

"Got it memorized now?" Jake asked tiredly. "Jeez, Black, I knew you were anal but this takes the cake."

Black returned to the sofa and dropped down onto the cushion beside the larger man. "I want to be sure."

Jake studied his former lover, hearing what didn't need to be said. He patted Black on the shoulder. "Hey, Sola bugs the hell out of me but he's damned good, Black. Don't worry about him. He'll take up the slack just like you want him to."

"Jake's right," Bee added, catching Black's eye. "Things are looking good. Real good."

"I suppose you're right. I'm obsessing," Black said. Jake could hear the effort at nonchalance that the other man put into the words.

"Hey, obsessing is your job," Jake teased, trying to lighten his leader's mood. "We're supposed to be the no-good slackers and you're supposed to whip us into shape. It's the natural order of things."

That garnered a faint smile of amusement from Black. "Is that so?"

Jake grinned, his heart twitching as he met Black's eyes. Damn, how he missed Black. "That's how it goes," he said lightly. He hoped to god he didn't look as puppy-eyed as he felt.

"I ordered pizza," Haney announced cheerfully, giving Jake a moment to take a deep breath. "It should be here any minute. I figured no one wanted to cook tonight."

Black attempted a smile for the other man. "That's fine. Sounds good."

Haney beamed. It made Jake chuckle to himself and brought a smile to Bee's face as well. Haney made no secret of the fact that he looked up to Black. It apparently didn't matter to Haney that Black was younger and probably less experienced in the field. Any word of praise from their leader was like the word of god to Haney. Jake studied Black while the man wasn't looking. Black was good at that: presenting himself in a way that made others respect him even without knowing why they did it. Jake could probably take some pointers from him. For some damned reason everyone seemed to take him for granted, he thought sourly.

Black sighed. "I almost forgot: Captain Dickerson wants us to take a break for the rest of the week. That means we're not allowed anywhere near department facilities. Any of them."

"And if something bad happens in the meantime?" Haney prompted worriedly.

"I assume he'll call on JC1," Black replied.

"It's because of Starr, isn't it?" Jake demanded, sitting up straighter. "It's because we still have to teach him everything, that's why we're being taken off of active duty."

Bee waved his hand behind Black's head, trying to signal for calm. Jake pretended not to see him as he faced Black. "Come on, isn't that what this is about? We're handicapped because of Starr. Because he's a walk-on from the street and he'll probably get us all killed. Why can't we get rid of him, Black? You know he's nothing but trouble."

"Is that truly your concern or is something else bothering you about Starr?"

Jake's mouth worked, but no sound came out. He met Black's eyes and felt his cheeks heat as the other man's meaning sunk in.

"It's not that," he protested weakly.

A brunette eyebrow lifted skeptically. "Isn't it?"

Fuck, he hated when Black saw through him. Or at least when Black thought he did.

"Come on, Black. We all know Starr's not ready to go into the field. I'm only saying what we all think."

"That's _my_ decision to make, not Dickerson's, not yours," Black told him icily. "Which also means that if the captain says we stay out of the game it's for reasons other than Starr. Do you understand?"

He nodded glumly.

"Don't make this personal, Jake."

"I'm not."

"Don't."

Jake fell back into the cushions. He hated sounding like a jealous lover but he realized that's _exactly_ what he'd just sounded like. Damn it. He raised his eyes to the other men. Bee was shaking his head with an I-told-you-so look on his face; Haney was looking at him with sympathy, which might have been worse. Jake's only consolation -- and it was a small one -- was that the empath hadn't been here to hear him.

The doorbell rang.

Haney leaped over the back of the sofa. "I got it!"

Bee pulled out his PRU. "I'll call the others."

With the others distracted, Jake leaned forward, pleased that Black didn't pull away. Chocolate brown eyes watched him expectantly. "We need to talk," Jake said in a low voice so Bee wouldn't hear. "Please, Black."

Black's eyes shifted away. "If we do," he began slowly, "will it put a stop to this?"

"Probably. I just need to clear the air with you. You've got a bad impression of me right now. I want to change that." He could see Black vacillating between wanting closure for them and wanting to avoid another fight. Jake counted on the fact that Black rarely backed down from confrontation. He was right.

"Alright. Later tonight," Black told him. "I'll meet you on the catwalk when the others are asleep."

Jake grinned. Half of this battle was won. "Thanks, Black. You won't regret it."

Black didn't say anything as Sola and Starr entered the room. Upon seeing the empath Jake forced a pleasant smile onto his face. He took his time leaning out of Black's personal space, letting Starr know that he wasn't giving up easily. Of course, if Black would have seen this he would have smacked Jake on the side of the head. But he didn't, and Starr's smirk told Jake that the empath had gotten the message loud and clear.

"You're not a vegetarian are you?" Jake asked with pretend concern, secretly hoping Haney had ordered extra pepperoni and sausage.

Starr smiled blandly. "There's no such thing as a vegetarian when you grow up on the streets, Cole. You eat what you can get. I'm very adaptable."

As if Jake gave a shit about Starr's childhood. Boo-hoo, pass me another Bliss tablet. Jake blinked, realizing what he sounded like. _Better watch it, guy. You're turning into a bitter old bitch._

"Jesus, Haney! Did you have to order onions? I _hate_ onions! Damn it!"

Everyone leaned away in surprise at Sola's outburst. Wide-eyed, Haney looked from Sola to Black to Bee.

"And I'm sure they hate you just as much," Starr drawled into the ensuing silence. Haney tittered nervously.

_That guy is a nutcase,_ Jake thought to himself as Sola accepted a piece of pizza and immediately began flinging off the onions. Jake was beginning to think this whole team was a disaster waiting to happen regardless of what he'd said to Black earlier. Sadness swept through him as he munched on his own slice of pizza. What he wouldn't give to have Max and Lucas back. Back then they'd been a team. A real team.

His eyes slid to Black who was eating quietly, legs drawn up beneath him on the sofa. Black was staring straight ahead, lost in thought. Probably thinking about Max and Lucas too. Jake scooted closer to him.

"Hey, Black," he said quietly.

But Black wasn't lost in thought, he was studying something. Jake followed the line of his vision to the opened pizza box. Some kid had scrawled a picture on the inside of the upper lid. It looked like a bad rendition of a dog standing next to a circled letter 'c'.

"Can you believe that?" Jake said, laughing. "Even kids these days know to copyright their work."

"The owner's kid must be in the shop tonight," Haney said, smiling around a mouthful of cheese. "That's cute."

Jake's attention was drawn by a hand on his arm.

"I need to take a rain check for that meeting," Black said in a low voice. It was obvious he didn't want the others to hear him but Jake couldn't imagine why. "Something's come up. I won't have the time."

Jake's shoulders slumped. "You promise? You're not just blowing me off? 'Cause we really need to talk."

"I promise. Another time. Maybe tomorrow."

Jake sighed. "Fine."

Disappointed, Jake shoved more pizza into his mouth. Black continued to stare at the pizza box.

### ~~~~~

It was easy to abandon the rest of the team to the baseball game. Only Bee looked up to acknowledge Calyx when he announced he was returning to his bedroom. The others couldn't have cared less what he did. It was exactly what Calyx was hoping for.

It had grown dark enough outside that the streetlamps actually served as illumination rather than as billboards for missing pet and concert notices. Calyx shut the front door behind him and quietly jogged down the sidewalk in the direction of the tram station. He had a black knit cap tugged down over his hair to hide its pale color. The rest of his clothing was dark enough to keep him inconspicuous but didn't make him look as though he were purposely trying to avoid notice. Black cargo pants and a dark green long-sleeved shirt helped him to blend in with the shadows as he ran.

Ten minutes of walking-jogging through winding, darkened streets brought him to a neighborhood he was familiar with. Here the only lighting came from those few lamps whose bulbs hadn't been knocked out by rocks. Trash blew freely across the asphalt. Those windows that weren't boarded up were barricaded with iron. It was a dangerous, malicious part of town but it felt like home. His senses were more attuned here, filtering out the emotions quickly, searching for the anger or anticipation that signaled he was about to get jumped. A single thread of worry tickled his senses and swiftly vanished. Calyx stopped in his tracks and turned around.

"I know you're there," he called out.

The shadows separated, taking the shape of a man.

Calyx smiled. "Hello, Darkness."

Black's face was dark. "What are you doing here? I thought I gave you an order not to leave the house on your own."

"How did you know I was going to sneak out?"

Black stepped further into view. The buckles on his leather jacket were the only things he wore that caught the light. "Someone sent you a message on the pizza box."

Calyx held his breath. "You knew what it said?"

"I know that a 'c' inside a circle is street talk for 'meet me'. I don't know what the dog means. I assume that indicates the place?"

"How do you know that?" Calyx asked, impressed. "Don't tell me it's something any street cop would know. The others saw it, too, and had no clue."

"It doesn't matter how I know," Black replied in irritation. "You're not supposed to be out here. You're a dead man if you're caught by any of your old buddies. Christ, someone must already know where you live to send you that message. This could be a trap."

Calyx pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out. He stepped out of the street and under the questionable shelter of a tattered awning. The canvas blocked some of the moonlight, casting him into shadow as he leaned against the brick wall and lit the cigarette.

"Get out of the street," he said.

After a second's hesitation, Black joined him by the wall, impatience clear in the lines of his face. Calyx took a puff of his cigarette, letting the smoke slide from his lips before he spoke.

"Someone does know that I live with you boys but I wouldn't worry just yet. That's where the little pooch comes in. That dog is a symbol of my old gang mate, Razzy. Razzy won't try to hurt me. We've been friends too long for him to turn on me now. I trust him with my life."

"That's exactly what you're doing if you try to meet with him," Black retorted. "Your living arrangement is already compromised; don't be stupid and walk into a trap."

Calyx narrowed his eyes as he brought the cigarette to his lips again. "Would you care?"

"Of course."

The answer was too quick for Calyx's tastes. It was the automatic response of someone who didn't need to think about the implications of his words.

"Why?" he pressed. "Is it because I'm on the payroll now? Is it because Captain Dickhead would give you a spanking if something bad happened to his favorite fucktoy?"

"Yes," Black said quietly, stepping forward, "and also because you're a part of my team now and I don't let teammates get hurt if I can prevent it. For better or worse, Starr, I'm looking out for your best interests. Nothing will happen to you while you're under my protection."

Calyx laughed, the sound brittle. "You really believe that, don't you? You'd give your life for any of those bozos back there even if they don't deserve it."

Black frowned. "I'd do the same for you."

Calyx felt the heat of his cigarette against his fingertips and let it continue to burn as he met Black's eyes.

"I'm not worth it, gorgeous. I'm definitely not worth your life."

"Then turn around and come back to the house with me," Black insisted. "This is stupid and you know it. There's no reason for you to risk your life this way."

Calyx hesitated, torn by the offer of the words and the suggestion that Black might actually care. It was a side of Black that Calyx hadn't experienced before and it made him want to do whatever it took to encourage more of it. Having Black care about him or at least pretend to felt good. Real good.

Calyx let the burnt cigarette fall to the asphalt. It joined a pile of trash that had been blown here from other dark places around the city. Gaining Black's sympathy might feel nice but Calyx reminded himself that that wasn't why he was here. There were some things that he simply had to know and whether or not Black approved this was Calyx's chance to learn them.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, letting the regret slip into his voice for the other man to hear. "I've got some questions that I need answering and this is the only way I know of to get some honest answers."

"Then I'm coming with you to watch your back," Black declared.

Calyx smiled with genuine delight. "My Darkness -- so protective. You'd better watch out or I might start falling for you." He pushed away from the wall. "However I don't think accompanying me is a very good idea. Razzy will know right away that you're a cop. If he's with anyone else they'll want to pound your face into the pavement."

He should have predicted that his words would have no effect on Black. If anything, JC2's leader looked even more determined to come along. "I'll follow at a discreet distance. They'll never know."

"They will. Trust me. The streets are their domain, not yours." He watched Black open his mouth to protest and then close it without saying a word. _What were you going to say, Darkness?_ He was sure it had something to do with Black's ability to read street language. But Black's closed-off expression indicated that it wasn't likely Calyx was going to get an answer. Ah, what the hell. "Tell you what, sweetheart. There's one possible way I can see you tagging along without getting unnecessarily roughed up by Razzy or his goons. I promise you won't like it though."

"Just tell me what it is," Black said through gritted teeth, already prepared for the worst.

Calyx stepped closer to the dark-haired man and grinned down at him. "Pretend to be my lover. Razzy won't touch you if he thinks you're with me."

Black bared his teeth. "Forget it. This is just a scheme you've cooked up to give you a reason to grope me. I'm not buying it."

Calyx clutched his heart as if wounded. "Your opinion of me is so distasteful. I'm hurt." He dropped his hands and moved closer, watching as his shadow swept like a caress down Black's face. "Just this once give me a little credit, sweetheart. I'm not going to touch you in front of them. I'll tell them you're with me and they'll back off. Except--" he added when Black started to relax "-- they'll need a little proof."

"I told you: I'm not letting you grope me."

Calyx's eyes darkened. "I won't touch you in front of them. I promise. But Razzy won't take my word alone. Especially with you radiating all of these 'cop' vibes." He trailed a finger down the exposed skin of Black's throat, smiling a little when Black moved back. "The thing is, I need to mark you as mine, sweetheart. Razzy knows that I do that with my lovers. I'm a bit... territorial. He'll be looking for it. If you're unmarked he'll know we're lying."

Black's eyes narrowed. His lips tightened into a thin white line. What fun to watch Darkness fight himself.

"If you won't let me do this then don't bother following me," Calyx told him breezily. "You'll only get us both into trouble."

Anger seeped through Black's control, sharp and metallic to Calyx's senses. Calyx smiled, anticipating the outcome of Black's mental gymnastics.

"Fine."

Calyx's eyebrows shot up, his grin faltering. "What?"

Black balled his hands into fists at his sides. "Do whatever you have to do. We're meeting your friend together."

Do whatever... didn't Darkness realize he was giving Calyx free rein to be as naughty as he liked? Calyx wanted to rub his palms together and give an evil cackle. Poor Darkness. So strangely trusting.

"I can't change your mind?" Calyx asked, some long forgotten part of himself trying one last time to be noble.

Black shook his head, a muscle jumping in this jaw. "Just get it over with, Starr, so we can get back to the house."

Calyx's lashes lowered. "Don't say I didn't offer to be a gentleman."

The wall was at Black's back. Calyx pushed him up against it. The empath thought about Dickerson and he thought about Sundhill and something dark rose up inside him and demanded to be fed. Calyx took Black by the chin and turned his face away, baring the long expanse of his throat.

At the sight of that vulnerable column of flesh already marked by mysterious fingers, Calyx lost it. He surged forward and sank his teeth into Black's throat, riding the bucking body beneath him as his lips sealed over the dark skin and viciously sucked. Black's hands flew up to Calyx's shoulders to push him away but the empath had the advantage of height in this and he didn't budge. If anything the resistance made Calyx suck harder, making Black whimper and shudder beneath him.

The sound was Calyx's undoing. He groaned somewhere low in his throat and shoved Black harder against the wall until he could insert a knee between Black's legs and press it against the brick wall behind. Holding Black's chin up, Calyx lapped hungrily at the flesh he had just abused. He began making his way down, biting, licking, sucking -- _branding_ any flesh he touched. Black twisted against him, panting loudly, his body trembling beneath the attack. When Calyx reached the junction of neck and shoulder and bit down, Black moaned and sank back against the wall.

Black's lust rushed over Calyx like a torrent of water surging through a shattered dam. His cock hardening so quickly it hurt. He thrust against Black, driving his hips into the younger man's, seeking the matching hardness in Black's jeans.

"Oh, yes," Calyx groaned, grinding himself against Black. "Let me feel you. Let me have it all. You feel so good..."

Calyx let go of Black's chin and quickly unbuttoned the blue shirt he wore. Taut, dark skin begged to be tasted. Calyx pinned Black's hands to the wall, meeting no resistance, and ducked his head to bite at Black's chest. Black shuddered, his entire body quaking as Calyx marked him. Little sounds escaped him that were not quite moans, not quite gasps. They drove Calyx mad. Mentally, Black was still trying to resist this, but even if he wouldn't voice his passion Calyx felt it in the waves of sensation that rolled over him.

So much desire, dark and potent. Calyx ached with the force of it. His teeth closed over a dark nipple and bit down, forcing a cry from Black's lips. Pain and pleasure rippled through the empath.

"Oh, sweetheart, the things you're sending me," Calyx moaned. He lapped at the tender flesh and then bit down again, just to feel Black's lust again, just to hear the cry he couldn't hold back. Calyx growled and bit his way across Black's chest, seeking the man's other nipple.

"Enough, enough!" Black panted. "Starr... stop!"

Calyx suckled the tiny point of Black's nipple, groaning against the nub as fresh desire swept him. "Moan for me, sweetheart," he said thickly. "Let me hear that you like this and I'll stop."

Black gave a choked sound, fighting the empath's grip. Calyx released one wrist only to bring his own hand down and roughly knead Black's cock through the denim.

"Fuck! Stop!" Black protested. Despite the words his hips rolled up into the contact, pressing his erection into Calyx's palm.

Calyx straightened, pressing his entire body against Black's to hold him firmly to the wall. He put his lips to Black's ear. "Moan for me," he demanded, rubbing harder. Calyx was so hot he was afraid he would burst at any moment but he wanted this one thing. "Moan, sweetheart. Don't hold it in. Let me hear it. Open your mouth."

Black's face was flushed with color, his pupils dilated with lust. He glared up at Calyx but it only served to stoke the fire raging in the empath's blood.

"Stop it," Black gasped. "This is enough, Starr!"

"Not until I say so," Calyx panted, and shoved his hand down the front of Black's jeans. The moment his fingers curled around hot, stiff flesh, Black closed his eyes and threw back his head. Calyx's mouth caught the moan before it left Black's lips.

It had been too long since he had last kissed anyone, Calyx realized as he plunged his tongue into Black's mouth. Black tasted of night and secrets. His tongue didn't run from Calyx's. It tangled with the empath's in a fight for dominance that left Calyx thrusting hungrily against Black. If everything went the way Calyx wanted it to _this_ would be his reward: Black, hot and desperate beneath his touch, needing Calyx, _begging_ him. He could have this every night if he wanted it. Calyx just had to play his cards right. He had to. The punishment for failure was steep but the rewards... oh, god the rewards were all that mattered. Calyx wanted Black almost as much as he wanted the Silent City and revenge. Groaning as Black responded so ardently beneath him, Calyx thought that maybe, just maybe, he could have it all.

Pain shot through Calyx's tongue so sharply it cleared his head like a dunking in ice water would. He fell back as his mouth filled with blood.

"You bit me!"

"What did you expect?" Black shot back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "What the hell were you thinking? I thought you were going to give me a hickey not... not _that_!"

Despite the pain of his throbbing tongue Calyx smiled. " _That_ felt pretty good, wouldn't you say? I don't need to ask you if you liked it. I felt your enjoyment loud and clear."

Color heightened the flush of arousal already on Black's cheeks. "It's a physical response that had little to do with you, Starr. It could have been anyone."

The high Calyx had been riding abruptly fell away, dropping him to the concrete. "Oh, yes," he snarled, "it could have been your oh-so-talented lover Cole. Or what about Lieutenant Sundhill? It could have been him too. Who else could make you respond that way? Have you got a list to keep track of them all?"

Calyx hated the jealousy that roared in his ears, deafening whatever protests Black was currently making. Black was just an obstacle in the road, one he needed to seduce out of the way. Calyx had no business making this more than it was.

Easier said than done.

"-- did what you said. Now if you're done pouting, let's see your friend and get out of here."

Calyx tentatively touched his tongue with a forefinger. The digit came away red with his blood. His eyes narrowed at Black, promising with the look that he wouldn't forget this.

"Fine. Playtime is over," he agreed in a dark, silken voice. "Let's go see Razzy and put your new markings to good use. I always did enjoy showing off my latest conquests."

Calyx chuckled at the flash of anger Black sent his way. He turned away and strode in the direction of the trams.

### CHAPTER SIX

Black waited a moment to follow, giving himself time to gather his control. As he buttoned up his shirt he imagined buttoning up his emotions. His skin tingled where Starr had bit and sucked on him. By the feel of it there were a lot of marks on his body. He cursed beneath his breath. If Jake caught sight of the hickies everything would hit the fan. There was no way his ex-lover would believe the reasoning behind letting Starr touch him like that.

Nor would Jake believe that Black hadn't enjoyed it.

Black firmly closed the lid on _that_ train of thought. He wouldn't think about that now or hopefully at any time in the future. He didn't want to get involved with Starr so therefore he wouldn't, no matter how his body might occasionally betray him. It was all a matter of control.

Starr was several yards ahead of him, forcing Black to jog to catch up to him. The empath's long, lean legs ate up the concrete quickly as they headed into the heart of the slums. They followed the metal and concrete spine of the overhead tram system, like tracing the gutted carcass of a great, prehistoric beast. Black noticed homeless people huddled around the tram's girders like insects picking the meat off of metal ribs. Small fires lit up the occasional alleyway, illuminating the grim, dirty faces circled around them. Black was thankful for the gun in the back of his jeans as distrustful and not always sober eyes followed him. He kept close to Starr's side but he doubted that the word or presence of an empath would mean anything against so many.

Starr came to a stop before an old liquor store. The windows had been boarded up and covered with layers upon layers of gang graffiti. A large man -- Black guessed that he weighed nearly three hundred pounds -- stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his considerable chest. He was bald. Rolls of fat ringed his neck and the back of his head like pasty doughnuts. More fat spilled over the thin, sweat-stained white tank top that he wore.

"Hey, Sammy," Starr greeted the man.

Sammy wore dark circular sunglasses, making Black wonder how the man could see at all, but the big man's surprise was evident when his mouth fell open.

"Oh, holy hell. Calyx Starr. Man, we thought the pigs locked you away for good." Sammy grinned, showing a mouthful of dark teeth. "Either that or they'd made you their latest bitch."

Sammy wasn't too far off.

Starr allowed himself to be engulfed by soft, puffy arms as he was drawn into the large man's chest.

"I missed you too," Starr said with a light laugh as he extricated himself from the too-long embrace. As the empath pulled away, Sammy stroked Starr's hair with both hands, lingering on the long strands. Black guessed that Sammy was on Bliss. "Is Razzy around, sweetheart? I think he's waiting for me."

Sammy shrugged with massive movements of his shoulders. "Yeah, he's here. When he said you might be coming I didn't believe him." He peered behind the empath at Black. "Who you got with you?"

Starr sent Black a smirk. "My latest toy. Isn't he cute? He makes the most adorable noises when I squeeze him."

Black ground his teeth so hard he was amazed they didn't shatter.

"He looks kind of mad," Sammy observed, eyeing Black warily.

"He's pouting because I promised him I would tie him to the bed posts tonight but now I may not have the time." Starr sighed melodramatically. "I told you that I was sorry, sweetheart. Sometimes your kinks just have to wait until I finish my business. I'll butter your bottom when we get home, how's that?"

Black's hand edged a little closer to his gun.

Sammy chuckled, the rolls of fat on his body rippling like water in a pond. "You'd better see Razzy and get this over with. Looks like you got your hands full with this one." The big man stepped away from the doorway. "He's in his office." Rotted teeth made their appearance again as Sammy smiled. "It's real nice to see you again, Calyx."

"You too, sweetheart." Planting a quick kiss on the big man's fleshy cheek -- and deftly avoiding another attempt at a grope -- Starr slipped past him into the liquor store.

Black started to follow but was halted by a meaty hand on his shoulder. Startled, he looked up into Sammy's dark glasses.

"If he doesn't give you what you want I'd be happy to lend a hand," Sammy offered in a low voice. He grinned, giving Black a close-up view of his teeth that he could have done without. "Or a belt or whip, whatever you're into. I'm good at laying down the discipline, especially for a wild thing like you."

Black shivered. "Thanks," he mumbled. "I don't think that will be necessary." He saw Starr within the store, looking back at him. Dipping his shoulder to remove himself from Sammy's touch, he quickly slid past him to join the empath.

"Sammy likes you, eh?"

Calyx laughed at the furious blush that stained Black's cheeks. His uptight leader was far too easy to tease. Calyx ran a finger down the inside of Black's shirt. "Good thing I marked you. It tells others to keep their hands to themselves. Otherwise who knows who'd like to play with you, hmm?"

Black caught the empath's wrist and twisted it. "You made a promise, remember? You said you wouldn't grope me."

Calyx winced at the pain and at the younger man's memory. "I did say that, didn't I? What a pity. Remind me to think twice about making hasty promises to you." He smiled innocently and was rewarded with his wrist being released. "Come on, Darkness, let's get this over with so you can punish me at home. My preference is a good spanking but I'm open to sexual torture if that's your other option."

"Starr, shut up."

"So hostile, Darkness. Tsk, tsk."

### ~~~~~

Calyx peered through the darkness of the empty store. Razzy's office was straight ahead. Red light peeked out from the foil that lined the office's single window.

His stomach twisted. He hadn't seen any of his old friends since being picked up by the cops. Although Razzy was his friend -- had been since Calyx was a kid -- loyalties could be strained when the police became involved. And the police were _heavily_ involved in Calyx's life now. He just couldn't let his friend know just how deeply he was embroiled.

Passing quickly through the empty store, he knocked on the office door and watched as the pinpoint of light beaming out from the eyehole winked out. He posed for whoever was looking out at him.

"Open up, sweetheart. It's Calyx, your favorite boy."

The door slid open a few inches, red light blazing out around the darkened figure of a man just visible within.

"S, you actually showed up, you little slut." The man laughed. "When I saw you on Dewar Street, scoring that awful shit from Mr. Vagabond, I thought: no way, Calyx Starr isn't in the market for that mystery shit. He only buys from me. Right? Wrong. Some friend you are."

Ah, so Razzy had seen him buying Bliss the other night. Hopefully he had been the only one. "My choices were limited at the time," Calyx sighed. "I needed something fast and I'm afraid I didn't have your number, sweetheart. You know I think yours is the best."

He could feel Black tensing behind him, probably itching to slap some cuffs on Razzy. Razzy was a small-time dealer, nothing like the big guns JC2 normally took down. Still, Calyx knew that Black didn't care if Razzy sold only two tabs a day. In the lieutenant's mind evil was evil even if only slightly.

"Yeah, nice try, Calyx. You blew me off. I'm wounded." The man in the doorway leaned sideways, looking around the empath's shoulder. "Who you got with you? If that's a cop I'm ramming my boot up your ass before I kill you, Calyx."

Calyx had been considering the story he would feed his friend and had decided to keep things as close to the truth as possible. While JC2's team members were, for the moment, anonymous, Calyx knew that it was only a matter of time before the street demanded the names of one of their most aggravating foes. Black's would be the most valuable, but for now he remained just a faceless man behind a gun and a badge. No one Razzy would recognize.

The door opened wider and Razzy stepped out. He was short -- shorter than Black -- with closely cropped brown hair and a deceptively innocent-looking face. He was wearing his usual attire: a black T-shirt with dark-colored bondage pants and boots. Just a club kid, except that Razzy had his own following and was considered a minor presence in the drug scene. Razzy smiled as he moved past Calyx and approached Black. Still smiling, Razzy reached for the taller man intending to frisk him.

Black backed away.

_Mmm, Darkness must be armed_ , Calyx thought, aroused by the knowledge. When he finally succeeded in seducing Black, Calyx promised himself he'd coax Black to bring his gun into bed with them. A shiver of anticipation passed over his skin. Oh, yes.

"Don't scare him," Calyx said lightly when Razzy continued to study Black. "He's shy around strangers."

Razzy dropped his hands. "He's a cop."

Calyx nodded, unconcerned. "As I'm sure you already know I live with a whole delightful troop of them. It's a safe house of sorts. The JCPD's trying to figure out what to do with me so they keep me there until they figure it out. It's so fun. Every night it's like a slumber party with handsome boys and handcuffs."

Razzy looked Black up and down. The other man met his look squarely. Razzy smirked. "So they're just holding you, huh, Calyx? Not making you work for them? Not making you squeal on the rest of us?"

Calyx fixed a leering smile on his face, knowing he'd pay for this later. "Honey, if they were using me for something so important do you really think they'd have me being watched by a kid like this?" He waved carelessly at Black whose mouth had drawn into a tight, angry line. "Look at him. He's just out of the Academy. Maybe I flatter myself, but I think if I were such an important source of information they'd give me more qualified keepers." Calyx stepped up to Black, ignoring Razzy for the moment. Holding his leader's furious gaze, he stroked Black's throat, using the motion to push his shirt aside and 'accidentally' reveal the line of bruises on Black's skin. "Besides, this one isn't my keeper," he murmured huskily. "I keep _him_. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

Black's lips were tightly closed against the press of Calyx's lips. The empath didn't try to push for more.

"Hell, Calyx, you fuckin' mauled him!" Razzy hooted. "Is he that good in bed or are you jealous someone'll steal him from you?"

Calyx leaned back to look at Black. The younger man's angry expression had shuttered, his emotions a mystery. Calyx sighed. "Both."

"Ha! I should've figured that if you _did_ end up getting picked up by the pigs you'd wind up fucking 'em. And here's my proof. You're a piece, Calyx. I gotta give you credit, man."

Wishing he could read Black better, Calyx turned to face his old friend. "I'm happy to have impressed you, Razzy. However just because I've made my sexy cop friend here my latest boy toy doesn't mean I can keep him out past his bedtime. Time is short. I assume you wanted to meet me for more than an old reunion?"

Razzy grinned. "Yeah, I got business with you. Come into my office." He put up his hand when Black started to follow. "Sorry, but your boy's gotta stay out here. He's still a cop, even if you _are_ stickin' your dick in him." He winked at Black. "Guess you're no longer a pig, huh? More like a dog. A bitch."

Razzy laughed heartily.

Black smiled thinly at Razzy. "Threatened because someone wants to take your job?"

The Bliss dealer's eyes narrowed, his smile fading slightly. "I'm no one's bitch, baby. Just ask your boyfriend. I give it to Calyx good, don't I?"

Calyx rolled his eyes at the posturing. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. You were the best I ever had. Now can we get on with this?"

Razzy grinned. "Yeah, let's go." He threw Black a last smirk. "Stay. Good dog."

Calyx shook his head in exasperation. Cleaning the toilets with his toothbrush might be the gentlest punishment he could receive later. He was afraid to look at Black's face as the door shut in the man's face.

Razzy's office consisted of an old, battered metal table and chair and two more chairs that faced it. The cheap shelving on the wall held half-filled bottles of liquor. A safe sat in the corner where Razzy kept his goods. The shorter man took the swivel chair behind the desk as Calyx straddled his own chair and leaned his forearms on the back.

"So what's up?" Calyx asked as Razzy spun leisurely back and forth in his chair. "It's dangerous for me to be down here, sweetheart. This better be worth it."

"Ch', you're lucky it was me who saw you and not anyone else," Razzy scoffed. He leaned back in his chair and propped his heavy boots on the top of the desk. He crossed his hands over his abdomen. "Lot of guys would like to see you taken out, Calyx. There's a nasty rumor going around that you were helping the cops when Lord's girl was found."

Calyx's spine stiffened. As far as he knew, no one beyond the cops had survived that night to rat him out. So who else was there to leak news of his involvement?

"That's a nasty rumor, indeed," Calyx murmured.

Razzy waited. When the empath looked back at him blankly, Razzy nodded. "So I guess that's all I'm gonna get out of you on that subject, huh? Doesn't surprise me, actually. You do what you think you gotta do, Calyx. Just don't take the rest of us down with you, got that? I still can't get over the fact that you brought a cop here. Who's to say he doesn't come back here tomorrow and bust me?"

"He won't," Calyx replied tersely. He knew however, that he would have very little control over what Black chose to do.

Razzy obviously felt the same way. "You'd better hope not. Friend or no, I'm not going to Hangway without extracting a little vengeance."

"I knew that when I brought him," Calyx said grimly. "Now tell me why I'm here."

Razzy nodded. "I've been hearing some things about you. More than just the rumor that you're working for the cops. There's a new rumor going around that someone wants you gone."

Calyx rubbed his chin. He'd had a lot of friends while living on the street. He was easy to get along with and he was good at rubbing people the right way. Literally. His enemies were few and far between.

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

"Something involving JC2," Razzy replied, shrugging. "I don't know how those guys have anything to do with you but apparently someone wants both you and the team taken out together."

Anger filled Calyx. He didn't take kindly to threats. But he was surprised at how much of his anger was for JC2's benefit. How dare anyone threaten Black's team? How dare anyone threaten _Black_?

"Give me a name," Calyx ground out.

The one he received raised his eyebrows.

"Genesis."

### ~~~~~~

Black gave up trying to hear anything through the door. Starr and his drug-dealing friend were speaking too quietly for him to pick up their words. Impatient, he leaned against the wall and pulled out his PRU.

He switched on the GPS and pinpointed his location within the city. He recorded it for later reference. He planned on returning to pay Razzy a visit that would be considerably less friendly than this one. Black looked forward to planting his boot in the man's back. How's _that_ for a good dog?

Black glanced at the closed door again, scowling. He knew Razzy. They'd met before. The last time they'd crossed paths Razzy hadn't been a dealer yet, just a punk wasting his life away on Bliss. Those years of heavy abuse must have had an effect on the man's brain since Razzy hadn't recognized Black. Then again Black and his men always took great pains to insure that their faces remained concealed during missions.

He looked around the inside of the store, at the empty display cases and the shattered glass shelving that jutted out from the walls like dirty icicles. Cigarette butts carpeted the concrete floor and empty liquor bottles and curling tab sheets had been shoved into the corners of the room in a haphazard attempt at some order.

Depression settled over Black. It seemed like every time he opened his eyes it was to a scene like this. He couldn't get away from it. Every day was more of the same. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself, but he felt anxiety beginning to build up inside him. _Never again. It's over_.

He ran the back of his hand across his damp forehead. This was stupid. He was the leader of JC2 now. He was important. Respected. He was everything he never thought he could be.

But it wasn't enough.

He looked down wearily as his PRU buzzed twice in his palm. He looked at the screen and felt his heart skip a beat.

Lieutenant Sundhill had left him a message.

Black looked at the door to Razzy's office again, double-checking that it was shut tight before he opened the message. It was a video message. Sundhill's handsome, smiling face filled the screen of Black's PRU. Black touched the screen with a fingertip, tracing the other man's hair.

"Lieutenant Black, I know I told you that I'd upload my schedule to you but I got to thinking. Giving you my schedule would just allow you to rearrange _your_ schedule so that we couldn't get together. See, Mama didn't raise no fool." Sundhill grinned. "Something tells me that you want to accept my offer but you're reluctant to."

Sundhill knew him better than Black realized. It was... flattering.

"So I'm taking the choice out of your hands. I've got a free day on Thursday. Since I was there when the captain forced you to take a break I know that you don't have anything coming up to give you an excuse to blow me off. You're stuck." Sundhill laughed. "I want you to come see me at my place. We'll share a couple of beers, shoot the shit and compare war stories. Sounds like a winner to me. See you then."

He'd left Black with no option to refuse or postpone, just a bright, confident grin that demanded capitulation. Black realized that he appreciated that. Lieutenant Sundhill was a take charge man, just like himself. Sundhill was also extremely influential in the department and he could do a lot for Black's career. If he could get Sundhill to like him Black would be able to keep JC2 for as long as he wanted it. If he could convince Sundhill to like him--

Maybe they could become friends.

Black closed the message and held the PRU to his chest. His eyes scanned the debris-littered store. His ears picked up the sound of police sirens in the distance. Sundhill wanted to be his friend. Maybe... maybe be more than that, though Black wouldn't hold his breath hoping. But one thing was clear: Andrew Sundhill, the darling of the JCPD and Black's secret idol was perfection personified. Whatever the man could do for him, Black would let him.

### ~~~~~

Calyx knew he gaped like a fish out of water but he couldn't help himself.

"Genesis," he repeated in disbelief. " _The_ Genesis? The one who killed Starwood's gang?"

Razzy snorted. "If that's what you want to call it. Though 'killed' seems too polite a way of putting it, you know? Starwood was fuckin' slaughtered."

Calyx agreed with a passion, though he wouldn't let Razzy know it. Like everyone else on the streets he was familiar with the bloody story. Starwood had been a main player in the Bliss landscape. Seven or eight years ago, Volton hadn't been the big dealer he was; Starwood and Lord had monopolized the drug trafficking in Juxtapose City. Starwood especially had been a particularly dangerous and effective force because he'd included psypaths in his higher ranks. It had been a seemingly brilliant move at the time, giving him an advantage in drug negotiations and keeping him abreast of what the cops were up to. It had also been his biggest and ultimately fatal mistake.

One night one of Starwood's favorite psypaths—a telepath named Genesis -- went berserk, coldly murdering the drug king-pin along with most of his high-ranking officers. But Genesis hadn't gotten off scot-free: he'd been turned into a vegetable in a confrontation with the only other surviving member of Starwood's gang, a telepath named Phoenix who'd afterwards disappeared off the face of the earth.

The result had left a huge gap in the power structure of JC's underground drug scene. With a mental shiver, Calyx recalled the tense days that had followed the slaughter when everyone waited to see who would step in to fill Starwood's shoes. Anyone affiliated with a drug gang -- and if you were a psypath, it wasn't a question that you would be -- had been pressured with violence to switch allegiances. People were gunned down on the streets, stores were blown up. Violent battles were waged to gather the support to take over Starwood's turf and the tattered remains of his gang.

After the vicious, bloody power struggle which had kept even the JCPD out of the darker neighborhoods, Volton finally emerged to take Starwood's place.

"But I thought Genesis went insane," Calyx said, standing up and pacing the small office in agitation. "Then someone shot him, or so the rumor goes." He would know; he'd been searching for the telepath for years.

Razzy dropped his feet off the desk and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the metal. "He did go crazy for awhile. But he's powerful. I guess he was able to pull it together. He's got a small gang now and word has it that he's trying to make a move on Volton."

Calyx rubbed his bare arms, his skin suddenly chilled. His friends had always been fellow psypaths. Birds of a feather flocked together, especially when being persecuted. But out of preference Calyx had hung out with empaths. Through bitter experience he had found telepaths to be tricky. Nearly every telepath he had ever known had been borderline insane because the constant influx of other people's thoughts was simply too overwhelming to handle. The only telepaths he'd known who'd managed to remain somewhat lucid were those with weak abilities who didn't sense much at all.

But Genesis had been strong. Perhaps the strongest telepath in the city. He was the only psypath Calyx had ever heard of who could project instead of merely receive. Genesis could hear thoughts and he could also send them. That was a powerful and seemingly invincible talent. Its price was Genesis' sanity. Or perhaps not.

"So Genesis is back and he's not crazy." Calyx stopped pacing. "What does he want with me and JC2?"

"JC2 is obvious, doncha think? Those assholes have been harassing us constantly. One of these days they're gonna take down either Volton or Lord, I guarantee it." Razzy watched the empath. "If Genesis is trying to regain his place in the scene he's gotta get rid of the obstacles along the way, and JC2 is the biggest one. It'd win him huge support among our kind."

Calyx gave a clipped nod. "But what about me?"

Razzy eyed him, smiling faintly. "Maybe he's got info about you that I don't. You keeping secrets from me, Calyx?"

_Enough to give you a heart attack, sweetheart_. Calyx studied his old friend. "Do you think Genesis is as much of a threat as he was before?"

Razzy's smile fell. "Let me put it this way: that mindfucker scares the shit out of me. I'm glad it's not _me_ he's after."

Calyx smiled thinly.

bang! bang! bang!

Calyx's head whipped around as the office door shuddered within its frame.

Razzy jumped out of his seat and came around the desk, pulling a gun from one of the pockets on his pants.

"What the fuck is this?" the short man growled. "Is your boy getting impatient?"

"Yo, Razzy! We got some crazy shit goin' down out here. Get your gun, man!"

At the sound of the voice coming from the other side of the door Razzy lowered the gun with a groan.

"That idiot," he muttered before flinging open the door.

A skinny kid with a green checkerboard pattern dyed into his short hair jumped into the room. "Razzy!" he blurted, breathlessly. "Right on, dude, you got your gun. There's this crazy guy out here kicking our asses and he's like, seriously pissed and he's probably gonna attack you next." The kid paused, wiping a hand across his nose and sniffing. "Dude, thank god you're here 'cuz I need some bad, man. My head's really hurtin'."

"Just shut up for a second, Froggy." Razzy motioned for Calyx to follow as he moved out into the store.

Calyx nearly groaned when he saw the scene. One kid, looking to be about Froggy's age, was kneeling on the ground clutching his wrist to his chest and fighting back tears. Another kid's face was mashed to the dirty concrete floor as Black twisted his arm up between his shoulder blades. Sammy stood in the doorway, grinning at it all.

"What the hell is going on here?" Razzy demanded. "Calyx, get your boyfriend off of Froggy's friend. The poor kid looks like he's gonna piss in his pants."

Calyx held back his laughter as chocolate brown eyes swung to him in irritation. "Sweetheart, let the poor boy up. No need to be so rough with them. You know I'll let you do whatever you want to me when we get home."

"Shut up," Black muttered. He released the kid's arm and stood up. "No one would have gotten hurt if they hadn't tried to jump me."

"Dude, he was just some guy standing in the dark!" Froggy exclaimed. "We'd never seen him before. We thought he was robbing you or something, Razzy!"

"Yeah, well, thank god you stopped him, huh?" Razzy rolled his eyes. "You guys are idiots. Get in here before you cause any more trouble." He glared at Black who returned the favor. "You too, boyfriend. I want you where I can see you."

Calyx linked an arm through Black's, tugging him along and preventing the man from reaching for his gun. "Come, sweetheart, you can sit on my lap while we talk."

He'd been joking -- he wasn't suicidal, for god's sake -- but after following Razzy's kids into the office he realized that there _was_ only one unoccupied seat. Oops.

"What're you waiting for?" Razzy snapped, clearly annoyed after the theatrics he'd just witnessed. The dealer had pushed his chair in front of the safe in the corner and was waiting expectantly.

"Remember this isn't my doing," Calyx murmured into Black's ear. He dropped into the seat and yanked on Black's arm, pulling the other man onto his lap. Black started to buck his way free until he noticed Froggy and his friends watching. Black turned his head and saw that Razzy had paused as well to see what was going on. Darkness was trapped, Calyx realized with delight. Muscles jumped in Black's jaw as he tried to relax on the empath's lap. His spine was so stiff it could have been used as a ruler.

In the corner, Razzy resumed working on the safe and at last spun the dial. From within the safe he removed a handful of tubes before shutting the door again.

"You boys got your money?" he asked, pushing his chair back to the desk.

"Dude, even if I didn't I'd sell my kidney or something to get some," Froggy said, digging into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a crumpled wad of cash. He shoved it along with his friends' contributions across the desk towards Razzy. "Hurry, man, my head feels like it's gonna pop any second."

Black watched Razzy push across three amber-colored tubes. He knew that the vials contained sheets of Bliss tabs. It took all of his willpower not to pull out his gun and arrest everyone in the room. It didn't help that when he looked up, barely able to contain his loathing, he found Razzy smirking at him.

"It just kills you, doesn't it?" the dealer taunted. "Well if you care for Calyx you'll forget you ever saw this, right?"

Black said nothing. The only words he wanted to speak to Razzy were the man's rights as Black arrested him.

"Hey, Calyx, looky here," Razzy cooed. He waved a fourth tube. "You know what I got in here? I call this my Omega mix. Strong shit. Send you flying for an entire day."

"Hey!" Froggy protested while shoving a tab between his lips. "I want some of that!"

"You can't afford this, idiot. My Omega mix is pure. It'd cost you both your kidneys and a lung."

Froggy scrunched up his face, considering.

Razzy ignored the kid, focusing on Starr again. "For an old friend I'd let you have a free sample." He opened the bottle and let the paper slide out. Two bright green tabs were affixed to the sheet. "Come on, Calyx. One for you, one for me. Just like old times."

Black clenched his jaw so hard it ached. He wanted to grab the tabs and stomp them beneath his boots until they were nothing but powder. Pure Bliss was frighteningly dangerous, so addictive that it pretty much guaranteed that you used it until you died of an overdose. Or until you were arrested for trying to rob a place in order to get the money to pay for the tremendously expensive drug. Fortunately, pure Bliss was difficult to come by. He doubted that even Starr had much experience with it.

Razzy picked up the sheet and waved it. Black realized the dealer was getting off on offering Starr drugs while a cop sat in his lap. Too bad Starr wasn't going to bite.

The legs beneath Black trembled, ever so slightly.

Black tuned out Razzy and the others, his awareness zooming in on the body beneath him. There... another shiver, this time stronger. A hand settled on his hip and he forgot to push it off, concentrating on how the pale fingers trembled against his jeans.

Dread stole over Black as he felt Starr fighting the temptation of the Bliss. How long had it been since he'd given Starr a tab? It was this morning at the funeral, and then nothing afterwards because they'd gone to the firing range. Captain Dickerson's instructions had said that the empath needed at least two small doses a day to keep him from getting edgy and aggressive. Starr was long overdue.

Anger and helplessness washed over Black. He didn't want to feel sympathy for Starr. He didn't. Why should he feel sorry because Starr was an addict and didn't try to fight his own addiction? It was his own fault. And why, damn it, was Black now forced to be his dealer?

_It isn't fair_.

But he'd learned long ago that life wasn't fair. That life was now linked with Captain Dickerson's and for that reason alone Black couldn't fight any of it. He patted his pocket, looking for the extra tab he'd carried just in case the range had been too much for Starr. But his pockets were empty. He'd changed clothes when they'd returned to the house.

Across from them, Razzy peeled off one of the tabs and stuck it to the end of his forefinger, extending it over the desk. "Ca--lyx," he sang. "You know you waa-nnt it."

Black turned to look at the empath. Starr's light golden lashes were lowered, hiding his eyes from Black. His fair skin was shiny, beads of sweat glinting beneath the red light of Razzy's office. A pink tongue swept across the empath's dry lips. Then again.

If you don't do something he's going to dump you off his lap and take the Bliss.

Reluctantly, Black reached down and took one of Starr's hands in his. The empath looked up, a flash of fever-bright eyes. Strain showed clearly in those shiny green orbs. He was desperate. Holding the gaze, Black brought up the empath's hand and settled it on the back of his head. He guided Starr's fingers to massage through his hair.

### ~~~~~

Calyx stared, unable to believe that Darkness was actually initiating physical contact much less encouraging the empath to massage him. Even more amazing was the sudden wash of warm pleasure that trickled through his senses, distracting him from the cravings. Black was allowing Calyx to _feel_ him.

Calyx couldn't tear his eyes away from the man in his lap. Under the wide-eyed scrutiny Black turned his face away, hiding his expression. Calyx massaged a little more deeply and was rewarded with a burst of grudging pleasure. The brunette's head dropped, just a little. If Black had been the vocal type, Calyx knew his leader would have moaned.

Calyx's own gratitude and confusion battled with the pleasure Black was sending his way. Black's intent was obvious and Calyx could hardly believe that the man would be willing to do this for him. Strangely enough it made him abruptly lonely. He wanted to wrap his arms around Darkness and hold him as tight as he could, hoarding the man's pleasure and making it his own. He wanted to live off of Black's emotions like a parasite, never again feeling that emptiness, never again feeling that ache.

With his other hand Calyx lightly squeezed Black's thigh, trying to convey his gratitude. He saw Black's lashes lower as he looked down at the pale hand on his leg. Calyx expected the other man to remove his hand. But Black didn't, and the pleasure continued to flow into the empath unabated.

If Genesis wanted to take out JC2 he would discover that his job had gotten that much harder. Calyx had no intention of letting anyone hurt Black. Simply put, the man was rapidly becoming Calyx's favorite new addiction.

When Calyx waved Razzy off, the dealer shrugged and popped the pill into his mouth. The conversation rapidly deteriorated from there. Whatever additional information Calyx had hoped to squeeze from Razzy was impossible to get now that the short man was high. Listening to Razzy and the kids laughing hysterically, Black recognized this as well.

"Let's go," he muttered, sliding off the empath's lap and breaking their connection.

Calyx sat for a moment, feeling the loss of sensation like a spike of ice in the gut. It took a lot of effort to find a smile and plaster it on his face as he followed Black out of the liquor store.

### ~~~~~

Black tried not to think of much of anything as he led the way back to the house. Starr was silent, almost brooding, which was fine with him. Black didn't want to have to explain his actions back in the liquor store; especially since he had the feeling the empath was curious. Let him stay that way. Black wasn't admitting to anything.

Certainly he wasn't admitting that Starr's hand in his hair had felt nice. It was a purely physical reaction. There were hundreds of nerve endings in the scalp. A monkey could have been pawing him and he'd probably enjoy it as much. Somewhat.

No, the pleasure he'd felt and had allowed the empath to share had had nothing to do with Starr's particular touch or the scent of his citrusy cologne or the soft breath that had blown across the back of Black's neck. Black had hardly noticed any of that. He'd done what he had to in order to prevent any more laws from being broken. Any pleasure he'd taken from the act was inconsequential.

When they reached the house Black let them in without a word. The Clubhouse was dark as they made their way upstairs. Passing Sola's closed door, Black was surprised and annoyed to find himself stopped by a cool hand.

He glared back at Starr. The empath smiled unfazed. "What you did back there was very generous of you," the empath said softly with none of his usual teasing. "I wanted to thank you."

The sincerity of the words made Black uncomfortable. "I didn't want to deal with you all drugged up," he replied.

Starr continued to smile, undeterred by the coldly spoken words. "I enjoyed feeling you. It was nice."

Black met his eyes and didn't like the emotion he saw in the green gaze. Starr was a drug user, a prostitute and a criminal -- therefore a master manipulator. Black told himself he couldn't trust anything coming from Starr. He felt a slightly disappointed at the realization but grimly pushed the feeling aside. That's simply how it was.

"Goodnight, Starr," he said, opening his bedroom door.

As he shut the door behind him, he heard Starr murmur, "Sweet dreams, Darkness."

Sweet dreams.

Black shuddered as he shrugged out of his shirt. He hoped he _didn't_ dream tonight. He needed a full night's rest. He hadn't gotten one in what seemed like a long time.

He walked into the bathroom and flicked on the light. The blood drained from his face, making the dark marks scattered across his neck and chest stand out all the more vividly. Ugly memories assailed him and though he tried with all his might \-- shutting his eyes tightly and clutching the sink with whitened knuckles -- he couldn't push the nightmares out.

With a groan he staggered to the toilet and collapsed against it. He vomited until he thought he would see blood and then slid to the tile floor and curled up on it, cold and shivering.

Across the hall, Calyx stood in the doorway of his bedroom biting his fist.

"Stop, just stop!" he whispered. He covered his ears with his hands as if he could block any of it out.

The pain that he felt wasn't his, but he wished desperately that he could take it into himself and spare Black from whatever it was that tortured him. It wasn't right for such a strong man to be brought to his knees like this. He didn't understand the feelings rushing over him -- the self-hate, the fear and disgust. He was afraid to imagine what had caused them.

Because maybe you already know.

One of these days, Calyx told himself, after he'd found his sanctuary in the Silent City and found his revenge he would find the person who had hurt his Darkness. Whether it took a week or a year, he wouldn't rest until he found them.

And when Calyx found them he would tear them apart, piece by bloody piece. He knew he would enjoy every minute of it.

### CHAPTER SEVEN

Calyx fell asleep somewhere around five in the morning, long after sympathy had given way to something less charitable. He was awakened two hours later when it sounded as though every door in the house was systematically slammed on its hinges. He groaned in misery and dragged a pillow over his head. The silence lasted about thirty seconds before his own door rattled in its frame beneath heavy pounding.

"Go away, Mom," he groaned. "There's no school today."

"Open the door, Starr."

Hell. Of course it would be the very bastard responsible for Calyx's current state of mind-numbing exhaustion. Cursing, he tumbled out of bed and staggered to the door, flinging it open hard enough to leave a dent in the wall where the doorknob impacted with it.

Black stared at him, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "You're naked."

"At this point I could be wearing a goddamn prom dress, sweetheart, and I wouldn't know the difference." Calyx sent him a scathing glare. "You so kindly forgot to give me my Bliss tab last night before your little 'performance'."

Brown eyes narrowed dangerously. "What performance?"

Calyx covered his face with his hands, trying not to sway on his feet. "The damned horror movie that you apparently star in every other night." The empath dropped his hands and glared at Black. "You have no idea how close I was to breaking into the gun locker and shooting us both."

Black jerked down the neck of the black turtleneck he was wearing, revealing a line of vicious bruises. "You marked me like an animal last night! I look like someone's abused boyfriend, you asshole. If you ever touch me like that again I'll save you the trouble of breaking into the locker and shoot you myself!"

Calyx took a step forward, unconcerned with his nudity. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Did it bring up some nasty memories?" When Black continued to glare furiously at him, Calyx went on recklessly. "From what I was feeling last night it's not _my_ touch that got you worked up. That's some old pain you've got simmering in your head, Darkness. I'm insulted that someone's been there before me. I'm beginning to think you're used goods."

The crack of knuckles against his jaw dropped Calyx like an anvil to the head. He blinked stupidly at finding himself sprawled sloppily across the carpet. He rubbed his sore jaw and looked up at the younger man. Calyx snarled, "You little--"

He flinched when Black threw something at him. But it was small and light, fluttering to rest in the empath's naked lap.

"There's your Bliss," Black snapped. "Get high, jump out the window... I don't give a shit. If you manage to actually become functional and realize that JC2 is an opportunity for you and not an invitation for you to fuck with everyone's minds report to Sergeant Cole. I've instructed him to go over hand-to-hand combat with you."

"Oh, joy," Calyx drawled carelessly. But his fingers trembled as he peeled off one of the tabs and eagerly slipped it beneath his tongue. As the familiar tingle spread through his mouth he sighed, dropping his head back on his shoulders. _God, yes_. Feeling more languid, he opened his legs, smirking as Black's eyes fell to his crotch. Mmm, Darkness looked particularly hot when he was flushed and angry like this. "Forget Sergeant Cole, sweetheart. Why don't you and _I_ do a little hand-to-hand?"

Black sneered as he tugged at the neck of his sweater. "You're a slow learner, aren't you Starr? I don't want you near me. That's not a hint, I'm _telling_ you." He shook his head. "It's amazing to me how you managed to last on the streets as long as you have."

Calyx idly touched his slowly hardening cock. "It's because I know how to make people like me, sweetheart. Let me show you how I do it."

"No thanks." Black spun crisply on his heel. "Nothing from the streets interests me. That goes double for you."

"Self-hate is so terribly unattractive," Calyx called after him.

Black flipped him the bird as he slammed his bedroom door behind him.

"Someone's in a snippy mood today," Calyx muttered, rising to his feet. Not that he cared anymore. Nothing could upset him now that he had his Bliss. Sighing _blissfully,_ he dropped back onto his bed and crawled happily between the sheets.

### ~~~~~

Calyx had never learned restraint when it came to Bliss. What was the point of rationing the drug when he had always been able to find a way to get more when he needed it? Black had thrown two days' worth at him -- probably as a test -- and Calyx promptly consumed all four pills the first day. He never had been a very good student.

He slept a day and a half as much to avoid Black as to get some much desired rest. When he eventually rolled out of bed he was stone cold sober. How people did this every day he had no idea.

He delved through his clothing and came up with something he knew would cause Black and the others the most pain: a long-sleeved fishnet top that revealed the pink discs of his nipples and beneath it electric blue bondage pants with four straps crisscrossing his waist and legs that swung and chimed with every step.

"Perfect," Calyx purred, looking himself over in the mirror. He finished his outfit with four-inch platform boots and headed downstairs to find the others.

The rest of the team was gathered in the Clubhouse's kitchen much to his surprise. His surprise however, didn't match Jake's.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Jake sputtered, lowering the beer he had been about to chug from.

Calyx smirked and slid around the stunned man to enter the kitchen. He winked at a flustered Haney as he pulled open the refrigerator door. "You're _supposed_ to be thinking, 'Damn, Calyx is sexy in those pants. I'd love to tie him to the bed with those straps.' Go ahead, Cole, it's alright if you're attracted to me."

He smiled as Jake choked. "You must be having a bad trip, Starr, because there's no way in hell I'd ever be attracted to _you_. Freaky whores aren't my type, thank you."

Calyx leaned back against a counter, beer in hand, and smiled lazily at the larger man. "No, your tastes run more along the lines of tall, Darkness and handsome, am I right?"

To his delight, Jake flushed, looking in embarrassment at Bee and Haney who were trying their best to appear occupied in the small kitchen.

"You, uh, been in your room these past couple of days, Calyx?" Haney asked, trying obviously to spare his teammate. "We haven't seen you around. You missed out on the excitement. Or, well, er, lack of excitement, I guess."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Nice, Haney."

Calyx looked between the men with interest. It was Bee who finally explained.

"The lieutenant had us gear up to apprehend a dealer who'd been selling to little kids."

Calyx picked at the label on his beer, keeping his eyes averted to hide his sudden anxiety. "And?"

Bee sighed. "Guess the jerk had gotten a tip that we were coming. He'd up and gone."

Calyx smiled faintly. "I'd imagine that Darkness -- excuse me, Lieutenant Black was quite upset to miss such an opportunity."

"You're lucky you weren't around," Jake sneered at the empath. "I'm sure he would've taken you down a notch or two."

_Oh, he tried, alright._ At least that explained Darkness' bitchy mood the other morning. Black should have known better. Despite being idiotic enough to abuse his own product, Razzy wasn't _that_ stupid. Black's intentions of taking the dealer down had been all over his face that night in Razzy's office.

Calyx smiled to himself. Poor Darkness, constantly trying to be the good guy but the bad guys just wouldn't cooperate.

"And where's our fearless leader now?" he asked casually.

Jake tossed his beer bottle into the recycling module. It ground the glass quietly as he shook his head. "Out. Though why he's there..."

"Why he's where?"

"Black has a meeting with JC1," Bee explained.

"Sundhill," Calyx hissed.

"The Golden Wonder is such a suck-up," Jake muttered, stepping out of the kitchen. "I don't know what the hell Black was thinking by going there to see him."

_You're so blind_ , Calyx thought in pity as he looked at Black's former lover. _No wonder you're no longer together._ But although Black and Jake's apparent break-up meant that Black was now available to Calyx's advances, it opened him up to Sundhill's as well. Calyx's brief interaction with the Golden Wonder at the range had told the empath all he needed to know: Lieutenant Sundhill had designs on Black and was the type of smooth playboy who knew how to get what he wanted.

"You should have stopped him," Calyx snapped out before he could stop himself. He felt Bee's thoughtful gaze upon him and turned away. In a calmer voice, he added, "Like you said, Sundhill's nothing but cheese and slime."

"As if stopping Black from doing what he wanted has ever been an option," Jake grumbled. Something in his tone made Calyx look closer at him. Hmm, perhaps the sergeant wasn't as stupid as he looked. The displeasure on Jake's face probably matched Calyx's own.

"It stings when they stray, doesn't it?" Calyx said.

Jake's eyes widened briefly as if he couldn't tell if Calyx was commiserating with him or mocking him.

Jake shook it off to smirk. "Black told me that he wants me to go over some combat techniques with you. You up for that... freak?"

"Jake..." Bee warned.

Calyx held up his hand to the big man. "No need to defend my delicate sensibilities, Bee. I can handle Cole on my own, thanks." He tossed his own beer into the recycling module and looked at his rival for Black's affections. "You think you can put me on my back, Cole? Sorry to disappoint you but I'm actually selective about who I allow to top me. I have certain--" he glanced meaningfully at the other man's crotch "-- requirements."

Jake's face went red. "Why don't you let me give it a shot?"

Calyx thought of Black at JC1, probably being seduced out of his pants at that very moment. The empath's teeth flashed in a feral grin. "Give it your best shot, sweetheart." He had a feeling he would enjoy pounding Jake's face into the mats very much.

### ~~~~~~

Across town, Black still had his pants on. But not much else.

He circled Lieutenant Sundhill and felt the sweat slide down his spine and disappear beneath the waistband of the shorts the other man had lent him.

"You're good, lieutenant," Sundhill panted, facing him across the black mats. "I'm impressed. Whoever it was who taught you to fight taught you well."

Black had allowed such praise to distract him before. He didn't this time and it saved him from being dropped to his back as Sundhill made a dive for his legs. He used the larger man's forward momentum to send Sundhill tumbling past him to the floor.

Sundhill rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows as he grinned up at Black. "You're making me look like an ox."

Black relaxed slightly. "Hardly. That's the first time I've managed to get you off your feet since we started."

Sundhill looked at him with lazy nonchalance. "Is that so? I guess I'll have to restore the status quo, then. I think I prefer it the other way around. With you on the bottom."

Black felt his cheeks burn. _He didn't mean it that way_ , he told himself firmly. But it was hard to tell with Sundhill looking up at him almost... heatedly. Black cleared his throat. He extended a hand down to the other man.

"Since that's not likely to happen want to call it quits?" he asked lightly.

Sundhill shrugged and accepted his hand. Black cursed himself a second later as he fell for the oldest trick in the book. A powerful yank pulled him off his feet and sent him sprawling across the older man. In a deft move born of much practice, Sundhill reversed their positions, pinning Black face down to the mat.

"Damn it!" Black hissed into the vinyl. "I can't believe I let you do that!"

Sundhill laughed lightly against the side of his face. His warm breath stirred teasingly through the whorls of Black's ear. It was at that moment that Black realized just how intimately they were pressed together. He could feel the other man along the entire length of his body. Sundhill's strong thighs straddled his own. It was a dangerous position, for it placed Sundhill's weight on his hips which pushed tight against the curve of Black's ass. And he could feel Sundhill's--

Black held very, very still.

"Are you holding your breath?" Sundhill asked.

"I'm practicing my breath control," Black answered quietly.

After a pause Sundhill began to laugh. To Black's tremendous relief, the older man rolled off of him. Taking a moment to calm his rising libido, Black slowly rolled into a sitting position. Sundhill had his back to him and Black watched the man's sweatpants twitch as Sundhill adjusted himself. Black quickly looked away as he climbed to his feet.

He grabbed his towel and scrubbed his face with it. When he lowered it he found Sundhill casually looking him over. Black couldn't help doing the same.

Sundhill shirtless and sweaty was like a wet dream come true. The man had enviable muscle definition, the broad planes of his chest and abdomen covered with golden tanned skin and only a sparse scattering of light blond hair. He had the perfect V, his wide shoulders tapering to a trim waist that led the eye to his hips and the bulge that Black tried very hard not to look at for very long. _Men like Sundhill shouldn't wear sweatpants_ , Black thought, disturbed by the visible outline of the other man's sex beneath the clingy fabric.

"Where'd you get the hickies?" Sundhill asked, shattering Black's thoughts.

Sundhill was grinning at him, teasing, but Black couldn't find a grin to throw back in return.

"They're from an undercover op," he muttered, quickly wrapping his towel around his neck to hide the incriminating marks. "Don't ask."

Black could only thank god that his skin didn't hold bruises for long. The few marks that remained were faint and indistinct. Still, Black wished that Sundhill had never had to see them. His pain-in-the-ass relationship with Starr was supposed to be a secret.

Black had arrived at JC1 while Sundhill claimed to be in the middle of his workout. When the other lieutenant had cajoled Black into wrestling with him -- insisting that they go shirtless -- Black hadn't known how to refuse without raising suspicion. Talk about bad luck.

To his relief however, Sundhill took him at his word and didn't say anything more about it. "Beer?" the blond asked, holding open the training room door. "Or a shower, first?"

_Get your mind out of the gutter_. "I think I could use a shower. I'm pretty ripe."

Sundhill nodded, following him out. "You can use the one in my room."

The layout of JC1's housing was identical to JC2's. Black followed Sundhill up to what would have been Jake's room in the Dugout. The clothes that Black had worn here were lying where he had left them folded neatly atop Sundhill's dresser.

"I'm going to go hop in Flaherty's shower while you're using mine," Sundhill told him as he moved to the door. "I'll meet you downstairs, okay?"

Black nodded, waiting until the door shut before dropping the towel and entering the bathroom. Personal items in the bathroom called to Black's curiosity but he made himself ignore everything and start the shower. If Black wanted to get to know Sundhill better he'd find a way to do it that didn't involve deciphering the meaning of the man's toiletry choices.

Black sighed and bent his head beneath the spray of hot water, groaning as the force of the jets eased sore muscles. He chuckled. He couldn't believe he was currently standing naked in Lieutenant Sundhill's shower. Black had planned to spend today doing research on the computer.

As usual it had been his own fault and his own bad luck that did him in. Shaken by the memories that had flooded him the other night and irritated with his deteriorating relationship with his teammates, Black had called Sundhill with the intention of canceling their date.

Black blinked water soaked lashes. Was this a date? He hadn't thought so before but now he wasn't so sure...

At any rate, Black had had the misfortune of catching Sundhill while the older lieutenant was having lunch with Captain Dickerson. Any excuse Black might have made for backing out of Thursday was shot to hell when the captain was there to verify that Black was free for the week.

"Forget Thursday, then," Sundhill had said cheerfully. Just as Black had begun to relax the blond man had said, "Come over this afternoon. It's better anyway; the rest of the guys are out of the house attending the Gun Expo."

And so Black had had no choice but to come here and find Sundhill, golden hair mussed and half-naked, challenging Black to take him to the mats. If there had been a way to resist, Black didn't know of it.

Black quickly soaped his hair and ducked his head to rinse out the suds. He looked around the stall and didn't see any soap except for a container of body gel. Black sniffed it experimentally. Yes, it smelled like Sundhill, giving Black an instant erection.

His eyes fell to a washcloth draped over the edge of a handrail embedded in the wall of the shower. Black groaned as his fingers curled around the small towel. Why, oh, why, couldn't Sundhill be like most men and use a bar of soap?

He squeezed some gel into the towel and wet it before bringing it gingerly to his chest. The smell of Sundhill, something he'd been sharply aware of while they wrestled, overcame his senses. He bit his lip as he dragged the slightly rough towel over his chest. He rubbed it lightly over one nipple and gasped at the pleasure that came from the simple motion.

Masturbating in Sundhill's shower with the man's washcloth... Could there be anything worse?

"You've sunk to a new level," Black murmured as he moved the cloth to his other nipple and began rubbing it in slow circles over the erect bud.

This was so wrong but it felt too damned good to stop. As the suds slid down his body, slipping smoothly over his skin, Black allowed his mind to drift. What if Sundhill had insisted that they share the shower? He swept the cloth down his abdomen in ever widening circles. What if Sundhill was behind him now, all six feet two inches of gorgeous perfection guiding that small washcloth down Black's body?

He wrapped the warm cloth around his straining sex and braced his free arm against the tile wall to hold him up.

He moaned softly as he squeezed the cloth around his swollen flesh, forcing soap bubbles and pre-cum to the end of his shaft.

He imagined it was Sundhill holding him like this, the older man's breath hot against the back of his neck. Coaxing him...

"I could be your mentor in all things, Black."

"Yes," Black whispered, stroking himself a little faster. He let his head drop, water dripping from his lashes to splash against the bottom of the tub.

"I could bring you into my world, Black. Where everything's clean, everyone is honest--"

Black trembled as his sac drew up tight to his body. His hips pushed himself into his cloth-covered fist.

"-- where no one knows what it's like to live on the streets. No one knows how dirty it can be..."

Black imagined Sundhill's teeth sinking into the nape of his neck. He could almost feel the man's strong arm holding Black around the waist as his knees threatened to buckle.

"If you let me teach you, Black, I can take you away. I can help you to be like me."

Black turned his head and bit into the side of his arm to stifle his cry. He bucked helplessly as he imagined Sundhill's hand pulling demandingly on his cock.

"Come for me, Black. Let me guide you..."

His mind flashed to that moment when they'd been wrestling and he'd felt Sundhill's cock nestled between the curves of his ass. Black imagined Sundhill yanking down his shorts and pushing his legs apart, sliding that long, thick cock into Black's heat.

Black reached lower and slid a single finger into his body. He shuddered and fisted himself harder as he imagined Sundhill driving him into the mats with strong, commanding thrusts.

"Let me teach you, Black. Let me fuck you."

"God!" Black groaned as his body convulsed. He shot into the towel, his legs shaking as his orgasm robbed the strength from his legs.

He leaned against the wall, panting, his body tingling from the force of his climax. The scent of Sundhill rose up around him, invading his pores and becoming a part of him.

He carefully rinsed the washcloth clean and washed the remaining suds from his body. Now that the pleasure had faded he was ashamed of himself. He'd just jerked off in his idol's shower. What the hell was wrong with him? Still, he couldn't help feeling a small thrill as he hung the washcloth from its rung in the wall and imagined Sundhill using it on his body later, rubbing the ghost of Black's essence over his body.

He had to clip that thought off fast or else he'd have to spend the rest of the day in the bathroom dealing with his relentless erections. He exited the shower and carelessly wrapped a towel around his waist as he dried his hair with another. Tossing the used towel into the hamper, he opened the door and found Sundhill standing beside the bed, fully dressed.

Mortification swept through Black. Had the other man heard him?

"Y-you're fast," he blurted.

Sundhill smiled enigmatically. "Not always. Most times I like to take my time and really enjoy it." His eyes raked Black's body. "I guess you're the same way."

_He's talking about the shower,_ Black berated himself as his body began to respond to the other man's words. But his mental chastisement flew out the window as Sundhill suddenly stepped forward, invading Black's personal space.

Sundhill's eyes were a shade of cornflower blue as he raised a hand and lightly traced a bruise on Black's collarbone. "Sergeant Cole?" he murmured with an arch of one golden brow.

Black turned his head slightly to avoid the back of Sundhill' hand as it touched a bruise higher up his neck. "No," he said, uncertain. "I told you it was from a mission."

Sundhill's scent was ten times stronger than the soap he used, an elusive blend of musk and Sundhill's own aroma as his eyes searched Black's turned face.

"I hope it turned out well to have demanded _this_ ," Sundhill said, rubbing his thumb almost absently across a bruise just below Black's jaw. Black fought to keep his eyes open but it was difficult with Sundhill's nearness surrounding him and smothering him like a thick cloud of pheromones. "The mission didn't involve the empath, did it?"

Black nodded, backing up a step. Sundhill followed him, making Black's heart rebound painfully against his ribcage. He gave up the fight and closed his eyes as Sundhill wrapped his fingers around the back of his neck and leaned forward.

"He's dangerous, Black," Sundhill whispered. It was the first time the other man had called him something other than lieutenant. It made his stomach flip-flop. "You don't want to get involved with someone like him. He's nothing but bad news. Once he finds a way to escape the police he'll be gone in a second."

"I know," Black returned, wanting to put his hands on Sundhill but afraid to because it might stop the other man from reaching whatever this was leading to. "I'm not interested in Starr. I don't want anything to do with his kind."

Warm breath caressed his cheek, making Black shiver. "Smart boy."

Black shivered again as lust pooled in his groin. His cock was as firm as stone.

"Do I make you nervous?" Sundhill murmured, his lips barely brushing the outer curve of Black's ear. "You're trembling."

"'Course not," Black said with a weak laugh. He opened his eyes in an attempt to prove he was unfazed but seeing Sundhill's strong, handsome face so close to his own only served to torture him more. Sundhill's eyes drank in Black's face, those bright blue eyes lingering on Black's mouth. Black returned the favor, his own eyes resting on the other man's wide, thin lips.

Sundhill tipped his face up with a thumb beneath his jaw. "Now tell me the truth."

Black stared back expectantly, his cock tenting the towel around his waist.

"Are you sleeping with the captain?"

Black wasn't insulted. He'd heard the rumors. "No."

Relief and pleasure crossed Sundhill's face. A dimple appeared in one cheek as he smiled. "Good," he murmured, massaging the back of Black's neck. "That's good."

Sundhill turned his head, breaking eye contact as a door slammed somewhere downstairs. Voices drifted in through the opened door of the bedroom. "They're home," he said, grinning ruefully.

Black had never been more relieved and disappointed at the same time. "Yeah," he muttered, clearing his throat as Sundhill released him and stepped back. "I'd better get going then. I doubt they'll be happy to see me here."

Sundhill walked to the door and paused, smiling back at Black. "Nonsense. I offered you that beer, didn't I? After our workout I'm sure you could use one."

He left the room, leaving behind a very confused and aching Black.

### ~~~~~

"So what do you think he's doing over there?" Calyx taunted.

Jake circled the empath with his hands held loosely before him. "Hopefully kicking Sundhill's ass."

"Oh, I'm sure there's an ass involved somewhere," Calyx quipped. He dodged a punch to the jaw and returned one of his own. "Surprised that's not obvious to you."

Jake danced back, the punch flying past his cheek. "Why do you think you know him better than the rest of us?" he snapped before rushing the empath.

Calyx endured a punch to the ribs as he spun to the side. "For one, I'm an empath. For another, I actually pay attention to him. Frankly, you all amaze me. It seems like none of you boys have one clue as to what makes Darkness tick. Which is really shameful, especially coming from you, sweetheart. I expected a little more insight from Black's lapdog."

Jake tossed his head, flipping sweat from his eyes. "Maybe I'm keeping what I know to myself."

"Mmm, maybe. But somehow I doubt it."

The two men continued to warily circle each other within the otherwise empty training room. Bee and Haney had wisely decided to watch the men face off from the safety of the video system connected to the T.V. in the living room.

"We were together for several months," Jake said, jumping aside as Calyx tried a leg sweep on him. "Being lovers involves a level of intimacy that you can't get as teammates."

"Ah, but is that true of Black?" Calyx smirked as Jake swung at him. "Touched a nerve, did I? You may have had our leader in bed, Cole, but I doubt he spilled his heart to you. He doesn't strike me as the type."

Jake stopped and straightened. "So if that's what you think why are you pursuing him? You want a quick fuck, is that it?"

Calyx relaxed out of his fighting stance as well. Now that he was no longer tensed his body registered the abuse it had taken in the last forty-five minutes. Jake was good at hand-to-hand; Calyx knew he'd be hurting tomorrow. Jake had also been an unexpectedly fair fighter, not resorting to any of the dirty tricks the empath had expected out of the man considering their relationship.

"What I want from Black is not your concern," Calyx told him. "He's a grown man. He can take care of himself."

Jake snorted. "You're right about that. If you try to fuck with him he'll make you regret it."

"Then what I do with him shouldn't bother you, should it?"

Jake grinned. "You know what? You're absolutely right. Go right ahead and take him to bed, Starr. I think I'd enjoy watching you get tossed on your ass once it's over."

Calyx smiled thinly. "You know next to nothing about Black. You know even less about me. But I appreciate having your blessing on our union, sweetheart."

Jake scowled.

### ~~~~~

Dressed in his own clothes again, Black descended the stairs and cautiously entered the living room. Sundhill's team was scattered across the sofas admiring a collection of guns and equipment laid out upon the coffee table. Flaherty was the first to look up at Black, his eyes widening as he shot to his feet.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"I was invited," Black replied calmly.

"Bullshit," said Henderson, a stocky man an inch shorter than Black who'd come directly from the military. The man had a baseball cap drawn over his light red hair, casting his eyes in shadow as he faced Black. "The lieutenant wouldn't bring you here. Not JC2."

"Obviously, you're wrong," Black told him with forced patience. Ignoring the hostile glares sent his way, he nodded towards the weapon strewn table. "Your goods from the Gun Expo? Is that the new SIG/Sauer-90?"

One of the other men -- Black couldn't' remember his name -- picked up said weapon and casually aimed it in Black's direction. Black wasn't concerned. The gun's clip was still on the table.

"A beauty isn't it?" the man said, looking down the sights at Black. "So smooth you don't know you've pulled the trigger until you see the bad guy exploding in front of you."

"It's just a transition model though," Black said, crossing his arms across his chest and trying to appear relaxed. "The SIG-100 comes out in seven months with a twenty-two percent reduction in muzzle flash and a higher capacity magazine: nineteen loaded with one in the chamber. That one carries only sixteen, if I remember right."

The man dropped the gun and looked at Black incredulously. "Are you shitting me?"

When Black shook his head, Henderson reached over and took the gun out of his teammate's hand, studying it critically. "Heh, sounds like you just got screwed out of four hundred bucks, Stu. I told you that you should have done your research before we went."

"You know a lot about guns for someone who's been handling one for only a couple of years," Flaherty said quietly.

The weight of the older man's scrutiny was difficult not to flinch beneath. Black shrugged. "I'm a good student."

"How long _have_ you been in the department?" Flaherty pressed. "No one seems to know much about you, Lieutenant Black. Or whatever your name is."

Black felt the tension in the room rise a notch. Flaherty was the oldest man present and definitely the most experienced. Compared to the sergeant Black probably seemed little better than a meter maid. "My qualifications are enough to satisfy Captain Dickerson. That should be answer enough."

"What qualifications are those?" he heard one of the other men whisper loudly. "Deep-throating without gagging?"

Black felt his anger rising though he'd been determined to keep his cool. "You're welcome to ask the captain yourself. Better yet let's take this into the training room and I'll show you exactly why I was given command of JC2."

"I'll answer that challenge," Flaherty said, rising to his feet. "Nothing would please me more than to wipe the mats with a snot-nosed kid like you."

"That's enough, Will."

They turned as one as Sundhill came down the hallway. Lines of tension slashing his cheeks on either side of his mouth.

"Lieutenant Black is here by my invitation. He's a guest, not to mention he's a superior officer, s _ergeant_."

Black would have preferred that Sundhill not pull rank but it was too late. The resentment in Sundhill's men grew more intense as they turned back to glare at him.

"Don't worry about it," Black said, fishing his keys out of his jeans pocket. "I'm on my way out, anyway. I've got work to do."

"I promised you a beer," Sundhill reminded him.

"I'll take a rain check."

Black felt the other men's stares on the back of his head as he moved to the front door with Sundhill in tow. He prayed the other lieutenant wouldn't touch him in front of the team.

"We didn't get a chance to go over those field strategies I was telling you about," Sundhill said with what looked like genuine regret on his face. He held the door open as Black moved onto the porch. "You'd better believe I'm going to hold you to that rain check, lieutenant."

"Another time," Black agreed noncommittally. The fresh air cleared his head, the dizzying effects of Sundhill's presence not quite as potent when escape was a few feet away. "Thanks for inviting me over."

Sundhill smiled the kind of smile that made schoolgirls giggle and elderly women blush. Black dug the bike keys into the palm of his hand to distract himself.

"Did you enjoy yourself even a little bit?" the older man asked. "I wanted to distract you from work and all the rest that's happened lately."

"I-I did," Black admitted. He wanted to return the smile but decided it safer to extend his hand without one. "Thank you again, lieutenant."

Sundhill took his hand in a warm grip, not shaking it but holding it. "Eventually I'll get you to call me Andrew. It's a personal goal of mine." He winked. "Among others."

Black swallowed with difficulty and pulled his hand back. "Good-bye."

Riding his electro-bike back to JC2 was nothing less than torture. They didn't call it a crotch rocket for nothing.

### ~~~~~

In his office in the JCPD headquarters Captain Dickerson re-read the latest report turned in by his informant.

"God damnit," he snarled with a vehemence that would have made the officers under his command blanch in fear.

He prided himself on his ability to construct well-formed plans and carry them out flawlessly. He had the patience of a saint and even if it took years he kept his agenda in mind the entire time. This report however, threatened to undermine his carefully laid foundation.

He tapped his fingers atop his desk, thinking furiously. There had to be a way to salvage this before it fell apart. There had to be...

A dark smile slowly crossed his face as an idea took shape in his head. It was risky -- very risky -- but from what Dickerson knew of his subjects there was a chance of it working. He had no choice regardless. He couldn't sit back and watch his years of hard work come tumbling down around his ears. He had ambitions -- high ambitions -- and he'd be damned if he allowed anyone to come between him and what he wanted.

He picked up his PRU.

Black answered immediately, his handsome face expressionless as it always was whenever Dickerson called him. Dickerson held back a smile of satisfaction.

"I want you to send me Starr," he told the younger man. "Not here. I'll send you the directions."

"Yes, sir."

No questions, no hint of disobedience. That was Black. Dickerson uploaded the information to the lieutenant's PRU and studied the report again.

"You poor fool," he muttered without any real sympathy whatsoever. "Things have taken a turn for the worse and you're going to be the first to pay the price."

Chuckling quietly, he locked the report in his desk and grabbed his jacket.

### CHAPTER EIGHT

Black sat on his bike and studied the directions Captain Dickerson had uploaded to his PRU. It was a hotel he had never been to. But he recognized the neighborhood. Damn.

The sound of plastic cracking forced him to ease his grip on the unit. _He's not asking for you. He's got business with Starr. Get a grip._

But Starr was now _his_ business. The empath might grate on his last nerve but Starr was part of JC2, which meant he was under Black's unspoken protection. No one would harm a member of his team if he could prevent it.

But could he prevent whatever _this_ was?

"You're jumping to conclusions," he muttered, swinging his leg over the chassis and hanging up his helmet. He had to trust that the captain had legitimate reasons for wanting to see Starr.

He just had to.

When he entered the Clubhouse Starr was sitting on a chair in the tactics room, facing the garage door.

"Waiting up for me?" Black said with a smile. His afternoon with Lieutenant Sundhill had put him in a better mood. Despite what had happened with Starr earlier Black was determined to keep things light to diffuse the negative energy between them.

Starr was wearing a gray JCPD T-shirt that he'd cut the sleeves and hem off of so that it bared his shoulders and flat stomach. Navy blue sweatpants covered the empath's long legs as they sprawled wide on either side of the chair.

"You trained with Jake," Black said in surprise, noting the other man's damp hair and the faint flush of exertion that pinkened his skin. A small rush of pleasure and hope filled him. "How did it go?"

Starr didn't return the smile. "A lot of unnecessary groping at first," he replied, making Black smile again. "Then we got down to business and gave each other bruises in all the right places." The empath's eyes narrowed. "But that's boring stuff, sweetheart. I want to hear the really interesting gossip. How was your date with the Golden Wonder?"

Black's pleasure died. He took of his jacket and draped it on the wall with the others'. "It wasn't a date."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I am _not_ blushing," Black replied tightly. He forced the muscles in his shoulders to relax. "We were supposed to go over some tactics and compare notes but the rest of his team came home."

"Then what _did_ you do?"

Let him rub his body over mine. Let him make me so hard I thought I would burst.

"Nothing worth mentioning."

Starr's fingers played across his belly. Starr had long, lean fingers. Artist fingers. They were probably very nimble. Black shook his head, wondering where his thoughts were leading to.

"Did Sundhill try to put the moves on you?" Starr asked softly. His eyes gleamed as they watched Black for reaction.

"That doesn't concern you." He didn't know why the hell he was defending himself to Starr.

"Did he try to kiss you?"

Black ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "I said forget it."

Starr dropped his leg from the arm of the chair and leaned forward. "He did, didn't he?" He laughed without humor. "Of course he did. It was obvious he wanted you when we were at the range."

"Officers in the department don't pursue each other like horny teenagers the way you're doing with me," Black said, his temper rising. "Especially not him. Lieutenant Sundhill is the most decorated officer in the department. We share a mutual respect. He wants to help me with my career. He wants--"

"-- to manipulate your hero worship so he can fuck your brains out," Starr snapped, standing up. "I know you're not that naive, sweetheart. But maybe you're just a little too enamored with him to see what he's up to. Respect you? Maybe. But you've been the leader of JC2 for how long? Less than a year?"

Old insecurities rose up. Black dug his nails into his palms, trying not to show how much Starr's words bothered him. He refused to believe that Sundhill only wanted him for that. Black was a good officer. He was a voracious student of police procedure. He was willing to work harder than anyone else, to sacrifice everything. He had...

He shook his head. Starr was wrong. Sundhill recognized the potential in him. Black was sure of it.

Starr obviously wasn't. "He wants the same thing I want he's just using a different angle, sweetheart." Starr stopped right before him. Some corner of Black's mind registered that the empath looked good. Passion had brought the color to his skin and made his green eyes flare with heat. Black had a sudden image of Starr beneath him, pale hair curling like waves of ivory silk about his head.

He was angry with himself. Starr was everything he didn't want. Why was he allowing himself to think of the empath as attractive? Black shoved the taller man hard, catching the empath by surprise. Starr staggered back a step.

"You don't know a damn thing," Black hissed. "Don't you dare try to compare yourself to him because you and he are worlds apart. Literally."

Instead of reacting angrily to the shove, Starr's expression held pity. "And that's why you want him instead of me, isn't it? You're trying to escape."

Black turned his back to the empath, fighting down the panic.

"Sweetheart," Starr murmured behind him. When Black didn't answer, he tried again. "Darkness--"

"Don't call me that!" Black snarled, spinning around. By the startled expression on Starr's face he knew that his own expression showed more than he wanted it to. But he couldn't find his vaunted control. It slid through his fingers like sand. "That's not my name!"

Starr dropped the hand he'd extended. "Then tell me what to call you," he said calmly.

He knew what the empath was asking. He wanted to laugh at the other man for presuming it would be that easy. "Black. You call me Lieutenant Black."

Cynicism marred Starr's cool beauty. "Of course. Shame on me for forgetting your real name."

Black felt vaguely nauseous. He dropped his eyes from the empath's, grateful for the mental shields that prevented the other man from reading him. But it didn't hide enough of him. He wanted to cover his face with his hands. He wanted to escape upstairs to his bedroom.

But he couldn't. He was Starr's leader. He had to be in control. He had to be strong. Searching for a distraction to break the silence, he became aware of the weight of the PRU in his jeans pocket.

His head snapped up and he could tell by the lines that dipped between Starr's brows that the older man recognized the shift in his mood.

"Get changed," he told Starr, falling back into leader mode. It was like running into the open arms of safety. "The captain wants to see you immediately."

Something flickered in Starr's eyes. "For what reason?"

"I don't know." _And I don't care._

"Don't you?" Starr challenged.

Black stared him in the eye. "Get dressed, Agent Starr."

He saw Starr tense at the order. For a brief, wild moment Black hoped that the other man would try to strike him. If they beat each other unconscious maybe some of the tension between them would go away.

Fortunately for them both Starr salvaged the situation. The blond relaxed, his lips quirking.

"You can be an intimidating man when you want to be, sweetheart. That's quite a turn-on." Before Black could form a retort, Starr moved languidly to the stairs. "I'll be down in a second. I'll just freshen up for our beloved Captain Dickwad, hmm?"

Black waited until he heard Starr's bedroom door close before he released the breath he'd been holding.

### ~~~~~

Calyx had a death wish; there was no other way around it. He knew that Captain Dickerson despised it when Calyx wore his club clothes. He knew that the older man became livid at the sight of his purple dyed hair. It would have been easy and self-preserving to wear something black and to tuck the ends of his hair beneath a ponytail band.

But flaunting himself in the face of danger was something he'd done every day of his life. It was part of what made Calyx Starr who he was. He wasn't about to change now even if the fallout could be... potentially uncomfortable.

"You never learn, do you?" Black muttered through the motorcycle's headset.

Calyx, draped over his back, had left his long hair loose beneath his helmet. He had chosen to wear a red, long-sleeved top that was slashed in several places across the front, revealing most of his chest and both nipples. Skin-tight black PVC pants barely clutched onto the curve of his ass.

Calyx grinned and let his grip on Black's abdomen drift a little lower until his hands teased the waistband of the other man's jeans.

"Captain Dicking needs to be shaken up every once in a while, sweetheart. He won't admit it but I add a touch of spice to his life."

"You should be more careful around him."

Though quietly spoken it was a clear warning. Calyx realized that on some level Black was worried about this meeting.

"The trick with Captain Dickhead is to roll with the punches," he replied blithely. "If that doesn't work I just drop to my knees and open my mouth."

He could almost feel Black wincing. "Don't push him, Starr. Just try to tone it down a little. Just this once."

"Why, it sounds as though you're worried about--"

"Just grow up and think about the consequences!" Black yelled through the headset, startling Calyx. He could feel Black's body tensing beneath his hands.

Black was worried. Worried for him. Calyx found his flippant replies deserting him. Without thinking about it he smoothed his hand over the tight muscles beneath his fingers.

"Shhh. Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll be good if that's what you want."

It was a measure of Black's distress that he didn't stop Calyx from massaging his abdomen. Not a good sign.

His unease grew as Black pulled up to the front entrance of a hotel in an older part of town. If Calyx was meeting the captain here then there wasn't any pretense that this was official police business.

"You coming up with me?" he asked Black as he dismounted. He was glad his voice didn't betray his hope.

Black took back Calyx's helmet without meeting his eyes. "The captain told me he'd call and let me know when to pick you up. He's waiting for you in room 404."

Calyx brought up a bright smile. "What a shame. Here I was hoping for a ménage a trois."

Black frowned, maybe reading through his act. "Starr--" he began.

Calyx cut him off with a wave. "Go grab something to eat, sweetheart. I'll see you in a few minutes."

He left Black sitting on the bike and strode confidently into the lobby.

It was an older hotel definitely past its prime but it wasn't seedy or inexpensive. The leather furniture in the lobby might have been a little worn but it wasn't patched or ripped. An eye-pleasing flower arrangement, the kind that promised a bouquet of lush fragrance but in actuality smelled like nothing, sat on a half-table between two brass-walled elevator doors. Not the Ritz but fancier than any hotel Calyx had ever stayed in when he wasn't playing the whore.

He rode the elevator to the fourth floor and was admitted to a quiet hallway painted in shades of mint green and peach. The carpet swallowed the sounds of his boots as he paced down the hallway to room 404. He knocked boldly.

The door opened after a few seconds revealing Captain Dickerson dressed in crisp navy slacks and a white dress shirt whose sleeves had been rolled up to the forearms.

Calyx had never seen the police captain this casually dressed before. When the captain had fucked him before it had been in the station with the older man almost fully dressed.

Looking the other man over, Calyx mused that at some time in his life Capt Dickerson had probably been considered attractive. His eyes were large and framed by a network of fine lines radiating like a fan from the corners. Age had loosened the skin of his jowls but the hint of a strong jaw line still existed. A narrow, straight nose and a compact mouth contributed to what should have been a portrait of a gracefully aging older man. But one look into the captain's eyes was all it took to wipe that illusion away. Captain Dickerson's gaze was the calculating, bitter look of a man who'd lost his chance at legitimate success and decided to climb up the corporate ladder on the backs of his dead competitors.

Calyx pulled up a seductive sneer and cocked one hip. "Did someone call for the slutty empath package?"

The smile Dickerson gave him sent a slimy finger of dread scraping down Calyx's spine. "Ah, my favorite civilian. Do come in, Starr. We've been waiting for you."

Calyx kept his tone light. "We?"

Calyx glided into the room only to stumble blindly as he waded into a swamp of hysterical fear and pain. He groaned and clutched his head as he looked anxiously for the source of the raging emotions. What he saw stopped the breath in his throat. He barely registered the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him.

"You remember your friend, Razzy?" Captain Dickerson murmured into his ear.

Calyx's childhood friend was tied arm and foot to a hotel chair. The Bliss dealer's brown eyes were bloodshot above the gag stretching his mouth. One eye was swollen partially shut and the other focused on Calyx blurrily. Purpling bruises blackened the side of his jaw and dried blood crusted his chin. _Oh, Razz_ _, how long have you been enjoying the captain's hospitality?_ Calyx shuddered as another wave of agony swept through him. Crap, why hadn't he saved a Bliss tab or thought to beg Black for one? The realization that he was going to face whatever this was while stone-cold sober brought sweat to Calyx's brow.

"No words of welcome for your friend?" Dickerson taunted, coming around Calyx and approaching the bound man. Calyx's heart stuttered when he saw the gun the captain held as he stopped before the chair. "Don't pretend you don't know each other. You had a reunion just a couple of days ago."

Calyx met Razzy's eyes. The empath knew without asking that it wasn't Razzy who'd confirmed that they'd met. Someone else had told Dickerson, which presented two possibilities: one of Razzy's people had spilled to the captain... or someone in JC2 had.

"You've taken to shaking down little guys like Razzy?" Calyx forced down rising nausea when he felt a tickle of twisted pleasure coming from the captain. "Business must be slow."

Dickerson drew back his empty hand and punched Razzy in the gut. Razzy gasped, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. He turned deathly white and then a sick shade of green. It took all of Calyx's strength to remain where he was as he watched his friend choke and wheeze as he convulsed in his restraints. Rage filled Calyx as Dickerson turned back to him with a pleasant smile.

"We're not here for games, Starr. Your friend Razzy has already learned that I don't have a sense of humor. Don't make him endure a second lesson."

Calyx's hands curled, aching to grip his faze whip and teach a lesson of his own. He was rapidly losing his battle with both restraint and his stomach. "What do you want?" he bit out. "Razzy's small-time. I seriously doubt he's of much use to you beyond as a punching bag, you sick asshole."

Dickerson nodded. "Smart boy. This punk here means nothing to me. But he had information to give you, Starr, that I'd like to know about." He raised the gun and pointed it to Razzy's temple. Dickerson smirked as Razzy began to moan. "He's told me his version, now I'd like to hear yours."

So much fear bombarded Starr -- mostly Razzy's -- that he found it difficult to separate himself from it. What if Dickerson pulled the trigger? What if he turned the gun on Calyx and ended his dreams of the Silent City?

Starr looked at the gun and he looked at Razzy whose eyes pleaded for his cooperation. A single thought went through the empath's head: _I'm not a snitch._

### ~~~~~

Black thought about returning to the house. Then he thought better of it. Jake would be waiting for him and demanding to know what had happened at JC1.

No thanks. Black wanted some time to figure that out for himself. To figure out Lieutenant Sundhill, to be precise.

He drove his bike across the street to a strip mall and parked in the lot, facing the hotel. Irrationally, he looked up to the hotel's windows to be sure Starr wasn't looking out at him. Thinking about Sundhill made Black blush. The last thing he needed was more of Starr's jealousy.

Black closed his eyes, feeling the sun upon his face as he considered the golden-haired lieutenant. Had Sundhill really been coming on to him that way? Trying to look at the situation with the objectivity of an outside observer, Black had to say that yes, Sundhill had been hitting on him. But bringing that acceptance back into himself was not as easy. Sometimes when you wanted something badly you were afraid to believe it could ever be yours.

Not that he harbored feelings of possessiveness toward the older lieutenant, Black quickly reminded himself. It wasn't about that. Black didn't want Sundhill so much as he wanted to be included in the older man's world. He too, wanted to revel in the respect dumped at Sundhill's feet by the truckloads. Black wanted to insinuate himself into Sundhill's circle so that when people looked at him they didn't sneer at him and assume he'd slept his way to his promotion. He wanted them to assume he'd gotten where he had because he deserved it. Just like Sundhill had.

The problem though, was that Black couldn't honestly claim that.

He was willing to work his ass off for what he wanted. He was much like Sundhill in that when it came down to business he did his job with a passion and commitment to success that couldn't be questioned.

It was outside of the working hours that Black's biggest problems lay.

His eyes flicked to the hotel, thinking of Starr and Captain Dickerson ensconced in a room. He didn't want to know what they were doing. If he was meant to know the captain would tell him. Maybe he was being willfully blind but after his experiences, ignorance was the only form of bliss he would gladly indulge in. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

He acknowledged that it didn't have to be this way though. If he was with Sundhill maybe all of Dickerson's demands would stop. Black rarely succumbed to the uselessness of hoping but for a brief moment he allowed it. If Sundhill took Black under his wing all of it _had_ to stop. Sundhill wouldn't permit it. He'd be able to put an end to something that Black, with his sense of obligation, could not.

You're grabbing at straws. You still don't know for sure what Sundhill's intentions are.

True words, but it couldn't stop the dream. Black needed one. His last one had been ground into dust beneath the heel of the one who was supposed to have taken care of him.

What a fool he'd been. He was afraid he was on the verge of becoming one again.

### ~~~~~

Calyx bent over his knees and vomited onto the carpet. Over the sounds of his retching he could hear Razzy whimpering beneath the thick, wet sounds of flesh striking flesh. Razzy's pain and hopelessness made Calyx's head feel as though it were a swollen melon atop his neck. Worse though, was the sadistic pleasure that hovered like a shadow at the edges of the empath's consciousness courtesy of Captain Dickerson.

Calyx wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned his head to look back at the other men. Dickerson had just delivered another backhand to the drug dealer's face, knocking Razzy's head to his shoulder where it lolled there as pink-tinged saliva poured from the corner of his bloody mouth.

"Lieutenant Black keeps me informed of every step he and his team takes," Dickerson explained as he straightened and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hand. "While it pained me to undermine his intention to bring you in for arrest, Razzy, I needed to get my hands on you without his knowledge. I didn't want to have to field his questions about your whereabouts since you wouldn't be going anywhere near a court of law." He laughed, sending a chill of foreboding across Calyx's skin.

"You sent JC1 to pick him up, didn't you?" Calyx demanded. "They picked him up just before JC2 got there. No wonder the teams hate each other if you're constantly playing them against each other."

"Competition keeps the men sharp," Dickerson replied, tossing aside the soiled handkerchief. "Besides, if Black had done his job the way he should have he would have taken Razzy down that night instead of waiting until the next morning. That's laziness. He's only got himself to blame for missing out on Razzy's arrest."

Though Calyx was aware of the real reason Black hadn't returned that night he wasn't about to share his knowledge with the captain just yet. He had a feeling he would have to play his cards close to the vest to survive this little soiree.

Dickerson had tucked his gun into the butt holster at his back when he'd started beating Razzy and now pulled the weapon free and casually aimed it at the semi-conscious dealer. Razzy looked at it through swollen eyes and whimpered pathetically.

"Presumably you don't want me to kill your friend," Dickerson said, smiling at Calyx. "So why don't you tell me what you boys talked about that night? It must have been important for him to risk sending you a message at JC2."

Calyx, who'd been bent over his knees while he'd been sick, straightened and leaned back against the solidity of a wall for support for his shaky knees. His need for a Bliss tab was almost violent. His senses felt raw, as though electricity had ripped along them. Captain Dickerson hadn't laid a hand on him so far but he hadn't needed to; Calyx felt Razzy's agony as clearly as if it were his own.

"Razzy wanted to see if I'd turned into the snitch the streets think I am," Calyx answered carefully. He wanted to feed Dickerson just enough of the truth to satisfy his curiosity but his major disadvantage was that he didn't know what Dickerson wanted. How much of his conversation with Razzy that night was already known by the captain?

Dickerson answered that with a shake of the head. "Not good enough. Don't play coy. Tell me everything he told you or I'll shove this gun down his throat and make you pull the trigger."

The tension that had been steadily mounting in Calyx's head became too much. "You know what, sweetheart? Fuck you. Go ahead and kill him. I'm sick of this. Razzy's a stupid punk who doesn't know anything. This muscle job isn't going to work, Dickhead."

Dickerson's smile was shaper than a blade. "That's _Captain_ Dickhead to you."

The captain holstered the gun. It was Calyx's only warning. Older man though he was, Dickerson was a trained combatant. Eyes widening, Calyx tried to dive over the bed but he was caught by the back of his shirt and slammed against the wall. A fist to the kidneys made him cry out and crumple to the floor. As soon as he hit the carpet the kicking began. Calyx wrapped his arms around himself, trying to curl into a ball as Dickerson's foot connected with his body.

Razzy's pain vanished from his head. All he felt was his own.

### ~~~~~

"Genesis," Calyx whispered as best he could with his face mashed against the wall. "He told me about Genesis."

You pathetic bastard. Snitch.

"What about him?" Dickerson demanded.

Calyx wanted to resist. But why bother to now? He'd lost his illusions of being a tough guy right around his sixth kick to the ribs. They both knew it was a matter of time before he spilled it all. If there was one lesson from the streets that Calyx had taken to heart it was recognizing the moment when self-preservation became more important than pride.

"Razzy told me that Genesis wants to take me out."

"And?" Dickerson prompted, tightening his grip in Calyx's hair until the empath was sure it was being torn out by the roots.

He groaned. "Genesis wants to get rid of JC2."

He expected the hand to release him. But the captain wasn't through.

"Does Lieutenant Black know about any of this? Does he know about Genesis?"

Calyx stared at the wall. A fan of blood -- he assumed it was his own -- dripped slowly down the painted surface. He wanted to keep his mouth shut. He despised not knowing whether his answers would help him and Black or hurt them. But holding out was no longer an option. "He wasn't in the room. I don't -- I don't think he knows."

Apparently it was the answer Dickerson wanted to hear. The grip on Calyx's hair loosened but didn't disappear. Instead, a large hand took hold of one of the empath's arms and dragged him up from the floor. Aching and nauseous, Calyx hung limply in the harsh grip and allowed himself to be turned around. Captain Dickerson smiled at him as though none of the previous violence had occurred.

"That wasn't so difficult, was it?" Dickerson said, amused. "You could have saved yourselves the trouble by being straight-forward from the beginning."

"Yeah," Calyx said warily, licking his split lip. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

"And now that I've gotten the information I needed I no longer need this piece of trash."

Captain Dickerson calmly raised the gun to Razzy's forehead and pulled the trigger. The back of Razzy's head sprayed the wall.

Calyx lost it. He screamed, hissing and snarling like a feral cat as he flew at Dickerson. He managed to claw the older man across the face, leaving a runway of bleeding tracks down one cheek, before Dickerson backhanded him with the butt of the gun. Light exploded across Calyx's vision and the fight left him. He fell like dead weight onto the mattress. He thought his jaw might be broken.

_Stupid, asshole. He just ruined his chances for a blowjob._ He laughed but then forced himself to stop before he became hysterical. He lay quietly on the sheets as Dickerson roughly rearranged his limbs and began to strip him of his clothing.

"Your timetable for seducing Lieutenant Black is considerably shorter," Dickerson told him, yanking Calyx's pants off so violently the seams ripped. "In fact time has just about run out."

"Fuck you, then," Calyx croaked painfully, already starting the process of distancing himself from what was being done to him. He felt the bed dip beneath the weight of the other man as Dickerson knelt between his legs. "Black despises me. He'll never let me into his bed. You may as well kill me now."

"Oh, no. You have your uses yet. Don't presume to know more about Lieutenant Black than I do," Dickerson told him, a flash of anger in his voice. Calyx heard the sound of a zipper lowering but his mind was already drifting away. "I'll share a secret with you: Black isn't as cold as he appears to be. In fact his major weakness is that he's strongly motivated by his sympathies. And I know every one of them." Fingers dug into the empath's hips. "You should thank me, Starr. I'm going to make your job easier. I'm about to provide you with a first-class ticket into his heart."

Calyx bit back a snarl of outrage as Dickerson thrust into his body. Blood filled his mouth from his torn lip. Years of ingrained response kicked in. He relaxed his body completely, allowing Dickerson to move inside his body without tearing him. _Come on, sweetheart,_ a voice in his head coaxed, _you've done this before. You'll survive it just like every other time. You've done this before._

But the reminder didn't help. Tears slipped from his eyes and softened the burn of the sheets against his face. He _had_ done this before. More times than he should have had to.

### ~~~~~

Captain Dickerson drew his suit jacket over his shoulders and patted down his freshly washed hair. He grabbed the plastic bag full of blood-stained towels and carried it with him into the living room. Razzy's body was lying in a body bag beside the bed, waiting to be picked up and discreetly disposed of by a member of JC1. All other signs of the former Bliss dealer had been thoroughly wiped clean from the hotel room.

Dickerson dropped the bag of towels beside the body bag and turned to study the naked body lying huddled and shivering within the bed sheets. Perverse satisfaction filled him as his eyes mapped the bruises and scratches marring the empath's pale skin. Starr looked like the typical rape victim. He looked perfect.

Dickerson picked up the empath's pants and the shredded remains of his ridiculous shirt. He tossed them onto the naked back, noting how the blood red shirt matched the sheets now.

"Get dressed," he ordered, pulling out his PRU. "You're meeting Lieutenant Black downstairs. Don't think I'm carrying you either."

He watched with perverse satisfaction as the empath slowly curled in on himself, clutching the clothing to his stomach. A flash of lust flitted through the captain as he watched the slender limbs slide over each other, still sticky with various fluids. Starr was definitely his favorite toy, no question about it. Dickerson thought he might have to schedule a session like this more often.

Greedily drinking in the battered body before him, Dickerson called up Black.

"I'm done with him," he told his protégé. "He'll be waiting for you in the lowest level of the parking garage. He's a little... homesick," he added with a laugh. "Don't make him wait for long."

Now all he had to do was hope that this gamble paid off. Watching Starr slowly and painfully begin to dress, Dickerson knew that if this latest move back-fired, there might be hell to pay.

### CHAPTER NINE

Calyx kept his eyes on the floor as Captain Dickerson dragged him by the arm through the service hallways of the hotel. The larger man's shoes echoed firmly as they walked. Calyx's footsteps sounded like those of a misbehaving child being pulled after his father -- stumbling and petulant.

They made their way through the maze of echoing halls with a surety that made Calyx question the captain's familiarity with this particular hotel. It appeared as though he wasn't the only lucky victim to have had a fling here with Dickerson. What a pity. He'd felt special.

Calyx smiled absently, tendrils of his hair sticking to the blood that still leaked from a split on his lip. At Dickerson's orders Calyx had made himself as presentable as possible before leaving the scene of the crime. His pants and shirt were ripped but their edgy style didn't make their condition obvious to the casual observer. His face was a mess -- bruises around one eye, shadowing the high slash of a cheekbone and spreading like a purple stain over the curve of his jaw -- but long hair could hide most of that.

His only other obvious handicap was one he was determined not to show. He did his best not to limp. He didn't want to give Captain Dickerson the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt him. Yeah, there was no pretending he hadn't been anything but completely fucked. But giving in to the limp was conceding too much. So he'd been raped. Big fucking deal. He'd survived worse. Calyx Starr was a pro. No one could break him, least of all Captain Dick-for-brains.

They shoved past a handful of porters who crowded nervously against the gray-painted walls when the captain barked at them. The two men stopped in a lonely elevator alcove.

"In here," Dickerson ordered, jabbing a thick finger against the button to call the elevator. When the dull metal doors slid opened he flung the empath inside. Holding the doors open, Dickerson looked the other man over. He shook his head in disgust. "Lieutenant Black will be waiting for you at the bottom. I suggest you let him take care of you for the next few days. It will be to your advantage to do so."

Calyx stared back feigning boredom as he leaned as casually as he could against the scarred wall of the elevator. "Any messages you'd like me to pass along?" His lips twisted cynically. "Anything beyond the obvious, that is."

Dickerson smiled thinly. He hadn't gloated over his crime. He'd treated what he'd done like a task that needed to be completed as efficiently as possible. Calyx was grateful for that one unintentional kindness. He might have launched himself screaming at Dickerson otherwise. But a smug superiority was now in the captain's eyes as he looked at the empath.

"You think I'm a sadist without reason, Agent Starr."

Calyx snorted. "I know you are."

"Let me enlighten you. Everything that has occurred this afternoon is for your benefit as well as mine. I don't do anything capriciously. There is meaning behind your pain. I'm confident that you'll thank me for this later."

Calyx tried to smile. He really did. What he ended up with made Dickerson lean back, frowning. "Spare me your fucking favors, sweetheart. I don't need them. You made a mistake today. I've got a bad habit of keeping my grudges. I'm hanging on to this one for a long, long time."

Calyx found some pleasure in the unease that painted Dickerson's face, even if it was brief.

But fleeting it was because in the next moment Dickerson's large body was crowding him against the wall and it took everything within Calyx not to scream at the other man to back away. Calyx ended up shivering against the wall, his eyes downcast in such an obvious show of submission that he wanted to shoot himself for being a coward.

"Never forget who you are," Dickerson warned in a silken voice. He picked up a strand of pale hair and idly stroked it. Calyx started counting backwards from a hundred to stop himself from freaking out. "You're trash from the streets and you'll never be anything more than that. No one cares what happens to you and no one will care if you wind up dead one day, victim of an unfortunate _accident_. Feel lucky that I haven't killed you already. You're nothing but a dirty empath. A biological freak."

Calyx had heard those taunts and worse his entire life. No one liked a psypath. They were this century's most persecuted segment of society. If you managed to survive the abuse the hate and fear made you strong, just like Calyx was strong. It also made you reluctant to feeling anything else but anger.

"One of these days," Calyx said, raising his eyes to meet the captain's, "we're going to take over this city. And when we do you'd better hope that I'm not the one who finds you, sweetheart. Sadistic won't be a strong enough word to describe how I'll treat you. They'll have to invent a new one just for me."

It was a card he rarely played. Fear of an uprising by the psypaths was the most irrational, hysterical fear the 'normals' possessed. Calyx never encouraged such fear knowing that it only hurt the psypaths' cause in the long run. But he had no qualms about using it now and it felt absolutely wonderful to see Dickerson lean away in mild alarm.

"Don't threaten me, you punk." The larger man backed off, pausing at the door of the elevator. "I've got connections in places you'd never dream. Some are even in your own backyard." Scowling angrily, the captain punched the button for the bottom floor of the garage. He stepped outside to let the doors close. "Go crawl to Lt. Black. Let him lick your wounds. Knowing what a slut you are I'm sure you'll have him licking something else of yours soon enough."

"At least his touch won't make my skin crawl," Calyx muttered. He watched the doors slide shut across the other man's hated face.

Once out of Dickerson's presence, Calyx pressed his fists to his eyes. Being an empath meant telling yourself that you had certain advantages. It meant that you never considered yourself to be as vulnerable as a normal person. You told yourself that you were exceptional. It was the only way to keep from killing yourself. But Calyx didn't feel those things as the elevator lurched and began its descent. He felt like a little kid easily provoked and easily scarred by cruel jibes. Calyx had survived twenty-six years on the streets by letting things slide off of him. But this -- this clung to him like sewage mud.

He dropped his hands and watched the lights above the door measure his drop into the bowels of the hotel. His eyes darted to the panel, lingering on the 'L' that marked the lobby floor.

He could escape from all this bullshit. He could get off on the lobby floor and flee into the city and no one would stop him. But where would he go? He turned his wrist over and rubbed the veins of blue blood that pumped beneath his skin. When he'd been arrested Dickerson had ordered that a blood marker called SynTrak be inserted into his cardiovascular system. The result was that he was now little better than a dog on Captain Dickerson's leash.

Synthetic blood, man-made to be compatible with every blood type, had been one of the key components to containing and eventually ending the spread of HIV in the twenty-first century. In this decade it had found a new usage as law enforcement's helper, SynTrak. This variation carried microscopic particles which registered much like metal on an X-ray when exposed to small doses of radiation. If Calyx tried to flee, the JCPD would find him if he passed hidden police scanners placed throughout the city. Calyx wondered how the public would feel if they learned that every day they were unwittingly dosed with radiation for the sake of keeping their criminals close at hand.

Calyx's fingers curled, his nails dragging red tracks across his skin. It was like being betrayed by your own body. Like being infected with some surreal police virus. And it was an experimental one at that. Who knew what long-term effects it could have on his body? He could end up having children with two heads. Calyx laughed, lowering his hands. Forget about the future, the procedure had screwed him already. It left him trapped within the city. Trapped, unless he received a full body transfusion or bled himself dry.

The thought didn't sound as bad as it once had.

Calyx watched the lights again. The service elevator was slow. It had only just reached the second floor. Two more before the lobby, then another three for the bottom level of the garage.

All of this unexplainable drama was for Black's benefit. Calyx hadn't thought too much on that fact but it struck him now how interested Dickerson was in anything concerning Black. Did the older man distrust Black? Or was it something much simpler like an obsession? Maybe the captain had a hard-on for Black.

Whatever it was, Calyx wished like hell that it didn't exist. Being the one caught in the middle was a serious pain in the ass. Literally. If he'd known that the price of the Silent City included this... well, let's just say he would have negotiated the terms a little better.

The elevator chimed softly and the doors slid open. Calyx pushed away from the wall of the elevator, wincing at a twinge in his lower body. The bottom floor of the garage was mostly empty. A linen truck was parked to his left and two unoccupied security vehicles were sitting against the far wall directly in front of him. He turned to his right and saw the ramp that rose up to let out onto the street level. He could just make out the sky through the opening.

The sight made him homesick. He wanted to go home, whichever street he decided to consider as such tonight. The Clubhouse wasn't home even though it was perhaps the safest place he had ever stayed. Safe, but not comfortable. His teammates hated him. Black couldn't stand him. Calyx had never remained so long where he knew he wasn't wanted.

But this wasn't about the here and now. This was about the future. About the Silent City and revenge. For those things Calyx would endure what he must. He had to.

A sleek electric song filled the garage. Calyx watched Black ride down the ramp and despite what he tried to tell himself, despite the face he put on, Calyx was glad to see him. Black might not like him but at least Black wouldn't hurt him. It was a lot to be grateful for.

Calyx thought about adjusting his clothing and pulling his hair forward to better hide his face. Then he figured, why bother? If he'd been made to suffer for this he would see that it was worth it.

Black stopped the electro-bike several feet from him and held out the extra helmet. When Calyx didn't make a move to take it Black hesitated before shutting off the bike. He hung the extra helmet on the handlebar and pulled off his own.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart."

Calyx could see... something on Black's face. Those big brown eyes swept over him with the quick, measuring precision of a police officer. They lingered on Calyx's face before moving down his body, taking in the way the empath awkwardly held himself, the condition of his clothing. With an eye like that there was no way that Black could misinterpret what had happened to him. Calyx sighed with relief.

"Let's go," Black said quietly.

Calyx stared.

Black wasn't looking at him anymore, preoccupied with the gauges of his bike. "Get on, Starr."

Shocked, Calyx combed his senses, searching for a hint of the other man's sympathy or anger over what had been done to him. He found nothing. Black's shields were as tight as ever and his face... His face was as revealing as the stone floor.

"You fucking know," Calyx whispered before he could stop himself. When Black stiffened Calyx pressed on, his voice louder. "You know what he did and you're not going to say anything?"

"Get on the bike."

Calyx laughed, the sound bitter and discordant. "Your precious Captain Dickface just shoved his weapon of choice up my ass and you don't even--"

Black's head whipped around, his eyes blazing with something unreadable. "Shut up and get on the damned bike, Starr, or I swear I'll leave you down here. I told you not to mess with him but you didn't listen, did you?"

Calyx shook his head, unable to believe Black's insensitivity. He hadn't been expecting flowers but a single word of condolence would have been nice. Calyx's mind spun. Dickerson had done this to him for a reason. And the reason was obvious: it was it to get a reaction out of Black, to win some sympathy from the reserved man so that Black would care for Calyx and eventually come to like him.

But if that was the plan it had backfired completely.

Suddenly, Calyx was furious. He'd just been fucking _raped_ and judging by Black's blank face it had all been for nothing. Black didn't give a shit what had happened to him.

Black. Didn't. Care.

"Goddamn you!" Calyx snarled. "For once in your goddamn life you're going to feel something, sweetheart." He launched himself at Black, catching a glimpse of widened brown eyes before he was upon the other man. Fighting him. Tearing him up off the bike. Calyx shoved his face against the side of Black's head, bringing his lips to the other man's ear. "After what I've just been through you're going to feel every goddamn thing that I had to," he hissed. "Maybe _then_ you'll care!"

Black hadn't been prepared for an assault by his teammate and the delay of his reaction was all the advantage the taller, rage-fueled empath needed. Calyx wrapped his longer arms around Black to subdue him. Calyx didn't feel the elbow to the sternum; he didn't feel the grazing punch to his ribs. He hurt so badly already -- inside and out -- that nothing new could faze him.

Growling like an animal, he wrestled with Black until he had twisted the other man around. He managed to snake an arm around the lieutenant's neck. He started to choke Black, intending to scare him, wanting Black to feel a fraction of the helplessness that _he_ had felt at Dickerson's hand. But Black wasn't helpless. Black promptly stomped on Calyx's instep.

Calyx cried out in pain and fell back, his arm loosening. Black grabbed the empath's wrist intending to throw the taller man over his shoulder but Calyx recognized the move and leaped forward, throwing his weight upon Black's back. Black lost his balance, stumbling beneath him. It gave Calyx the time to reestablish his hold around Black's neck. Calyx slammed a punch to Black's side. Black's breath left him in a pained gasp.

There was a roaring in Calyx's ears that drowned out every thought, every doubt about what he was doing. He hadn't been able to control what Dickerson had done to him. He hadn't been able to stop the captain from murdering Razzy. That frustration manifested itself now in violence. With a swipe of one heel he tripped up Black, sending them both crashing across Black's electro-bike.

Black grunted as the seat rammed into his stomach. He started to push up from the bike only to let out a grunt of pain as he encountered the hot tubes of the exhaust. He fell over the bike seat again. Their position over the bike forced Black's ass up into Calyx's crotch and a terrible thought struck the empath. An evil thought.

I'll give you something to feel. I'll give you a reason to sympathize, you cold bastard.

Black didn't recognize the intent of Calyx's actions when the empath reached beneath their struggling bodies and ripped open Black's jeans. But the moment Calyx lifted up slightly while simultaneously yanking the denim down Black exploded into action, bucking and thrashing almost manically beneath Calyx.

Berserk fear struck the empath. It was so viciously bright that it overcame Calyx's senses and he became convinced that it was _his_ fear. Wild panic surged through him. _Fear/dread/disgust/helplessness_... God, he was so afraid. _Not again! I won't be forced again!_

The spitting, hissing body beneath him brought his awareness back into line. It gave his fear a focus. He needed to subdue. He needed to show Black who was the boss here because there was _no way_ Calyx was going to be the one who was afraid again. Never again.

He squeezed his arm tightly across Black's throat, hearing the other man choke as his windpipe was nearly crushed. When Black's struggles became less effective and more reflexive, Calyx yanked Black's jeans the rest of the way down his hips. The smooth bare skin against his fingers made Calyx angry. He swallowed a sob, reminded of how he had been this way for Dickerson, vulnerable and open.

"You asshole," Calyx grated out, fumbling with the zipper on his own pants. "You think it's so fun to fuck with the empath? You think it doesn't _hurt_?!" With his free hand he pulled up on Black's hip, lifting him to better receive the punishment Calyx intended. "You old, fucking geezer. Raping me is the only way an old cow like you can get any action, isn't it? _Isn't it?_ "

Calyx heard himself snarling as he thrust forward. His semi-flaccid sex flopped uselessly against the cleft of Black's ass. Angrily he grabbed himself and tried to shove the soft tip inside. What the hell? He'd never had a problem getting it up before. He'd never had this problem!

You've also never forced anyone before.

Calyx looked down at himself. He really _looked_. What he saw made him gag.

I'm as bad as Dickerson.

"Oh, my god," Calyx whispered. Now that the roaring in his ears had subsided he could hear Black panting from the other side of the bike.

Hyperventilating.

It was a loss of self-control that Calyx had never seen or heard from his leader before. It scared him in the same way that seeing a parent figure show an unexpected weakness was scary. It wasn't supposed to happen. Black was supposed to be strong. Black wasn't supposed to break.

Calyx wasn't supposed to be the one to break him.

Calyx shoved himself backwards. Staggering away from the bike to build distance, he could see how awful the situation truly was. It could have been funny seeing Black bare-assed and hanging over the seat of the bike. But it wasn't.

It was horrible.

Calyx wrapped his arms around himself, listening to Black wheeze. He remembered that Black had made a cry of pain earlier. Black had probably burnt himself on the motorcycle's hot pipes while Calyx was forcing him down over it.

This was the fuck-up of all fuck-ups. Captain Dickerson's plan had just been shot to hell. But Calyx couldn't find it in himself to be pleased. He just felt sick.

Clutching his pants to his hips with one hand, Calyx extended a shaky hand. "Darkness," he began, "you've got to listen to me--"

At the sound Black jerked as if only now realizing that he was no longer held down. He tried to stand up but ended up tripping on the jeans wrapped around his knees. He fell onto his hip on the cold concrete, his hair falling messily over his face. Calyx took another step forward. He wanted to see Black's face.

The sound of his footstep galvanized Black into action. He scooted back frantically across the concrete, placing his back to the bike, one arm coming up in defense. His body language reminded Calyx of kids on the street. Kids who'd suffered the worst. Calyx couldn't take another step forward if he'd wanted to.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered. "What have I done?"

Black didn't answer him. He didn't look up. He jammed a hand into the scrunched up pocket of his jeans, digging for something. Calyx braced himself, expecting Black to pull out a gun or a bottle of mace and give Calyx exactly what he deserved. Instead Black shakily extracted a tiny piece of paper and promptly slapped it against the side of his neck.

A gun would have been kinder. Black had just put on a Bliss tab.

### ~~~~~

Dickerson waited beside his craft at the loading dock of the hotel. He watched Lieutenant Sundhill finish giving orders to Flaherty and Henderson. Dickerson smiled approvingly as the men obeyed their leader without question, quickly hustling the body of Razzy and the bloodied evidence of his torture into JC1's utility craft.

Dickerson wore a pleased smile on his face as the golden-haired lieutenant joined him by his vehicle.

"Everything set, lieutenant?"

Sundhill nodded but he looked distracted. His eyes continually flicked to the craft that held Razzy's body. "He's the one we picked up the other night, isn't he?"

"He was."

Sundhill nodded again. "This have anything to do with JC2? Lieutenant Black mentioned to me that he'd tried to pick this joker up."

Dickerson studied his fingernails. "That doesn't concern you, lieutenant. You've done what I've asked you to. You and your men may finish disposing of the trash."

Sundhill frowned, about to say something, when Dickerson's PRU buzzed. He held up a hand to the lieutenant as he checked the message. What the captain read made his pulse jump.

"Bad news, sir?"

Dickerson raised his eyes to his top lieutenant. "It better not be."

~~~~~~

"Black, let me drive the bike."

Black didn't hear him. Or chose not to. Either way the result was the same. Black hastily yanked up his jeans and threw one leg over the electro-bike.

Calyx tried to catch the other man's arm. "Wait! You're in no condition to drive that thing, sweetheart. Let me do it."

He received a backhand to the face for his concern. Calyx cupped his mouth in shock, tasting fresh blood. He stood by dumbly as Black slammed his helmet over his head and started the bike. The smooth whine that filled the garage sounded like that of a terrified animal.

Calyx jumped back as Black spun the back wheel in a screech of rubber before tearing off down the aisle. At the top of the ramp Black turned his bike west. He didn't spare a backwards glance for the man he'd left behind.

It was silent in Calyx's head. It was almost eerily quiet when compared to the tumult that had bombarded his senses just minutes ago. Now that Black had left Calyx was able to appreciate how much emotion his leader had been sending his way the entire time. He was left slightly flabbergasted.

Where had that shame come from? And that uncontrolled fear? Calyx had learned more about Black in the last few minutes than he had in the days since joining JC2. What he'd learned made him think twice about his impressions of the lieutenant. Calyx prayed he was wrong.

He dropped his head, all at once tired and feeling every pained inch of his abused body. His eyes fell to Black's PRU lying discarded on the concrete. It must have fallen out during the scuffle. With a wince, he bent and picked it up. An amber light flashed at the top of it.

Calyx jumped when the PRU buzzed. Startled, the squeezed too tight and the unit flew out of his hand. He fumbled with it like it was a slippery bar of soap.

He expected Black to have a lock on the system to prevent anyone else from using the unit but to Calyx's surprise the video flashed with a picture of Jake's concerned face.

"Starr! What the hell's going on? Where's Black? Put him on right now!"

"I don't know where he is," Calyx replied, trying not to sound like the criminal he knew he was. A cop like Jake would sniff him out in a second if he wasn't careful.

"Don't give me that. Black's personal alarm went off. Something's happened."

Ah, so that explained why the PRU was working. Black must have activated the alarm system during his struggle with Calyx. It was more than a little sickening to realize that Black had felt threatened enough by him to feel the need to call for help. Calyx suspected that Black rarely called for assistance in anything.

Jake's bark jerked him out of his musings. "Starr, where the hell is he?"

Calyx's eyes drifted to the street. Black had turned right when he'd torn out of the garage. Not left which would have taken him back to the house but right into a very specific and notorious part of the city. Yeah, Black could have been heading for a convenience store or off to run some errands. But after what had just happened Calyx highly doubted that Black had gone on a doughnut run.

Calyx studied the face looking back at him from the screen. He didn't like Jake. He couldn't stand him, actually. But his dislike for the light-eyed sergeant wasn't nearly as strong as his feelings for Black.

Dreading the confrontation he was deliberately setting himself up for, he said, "I need you to come pick me up, Jake."

The other man's face registered surprise at the sudden familiarity. But like a seasoned cop his surprise swiftly gave way to a grim suspicion. "What's happened to Black?"

Calyx's hand tightened around the PRU. He envisioned again the moment when Black had placed the Bliss tab against his neck. "I don't know," he admitted. "Just -- just come get me." He took a deep breath. "I'll explain what I can as we go."

### ~~~~~

The past was called the past because it was something that had happened before; it wasn't something that continued to happen. But for some reason in Black's life the past refused to stay buried. It insisted on intruding on his present life every chance it got.

Don't think about that. Don't think at all.

Good advice. Black decided to take it. Being willfully blind to what had just happened was preferable to dwelling on the fact that he had a Bliss tab stuck to his neck and a lifetime's worth of terrible images roaming through his head.

This fall was inevitable, Black realized as he drove without conscious awareness through the darkest streets of Juxtapose City. Captain Dickerson might have thought Black stronger than this but all along Black knew he was just one step away from corruption. It was in his blood. It had been ingrained in his senses. It was what he was used to so why fight it?

_Because you're better than this. You_ want _better than this._

But who said that he deserved it?

The proof of his worthlessness was the illegal substance currently pumping through his bloodstream. There was no clearer evidence than that. He was worthless. He was no lieutenant. He was better off accepting what he was and moving on.

Black pulled the bike to a stop at a red light. He looked around himself for the first time. He was on 32nd and 'D' Street. How fitting. He was in the heart of Juxtapose City's drug district.

A shuffle to his left turned his head. A kid in a black trench coat and ragged blue jeans paused beside a garbage can. The kid was smoking a cigarette but Black caught the scent of an illegal weed in the blue-tinged smoke.

"Ever wonder how high the sky is?" the kid asked, casually looking Black over.

In street-speak, the kid was asking if Black was interested in buying G-28. It was the latest drug to replace cocaine as the party drug of choice. It was dangerously addictive, designed that way by its makers to ensure an instant, desperate market for the drug. It was the city's second most popular drug behind Bliss.

G-28. Black was familiar with it in many ways. He'd seen its evil in every intimate form. It didn't weaken a person it destroyed him.

"What've you got?" he asked.

As the kid sauntered closer Black reached into his pocket. His fingers bypassed the silver badge he carried and curled around the shape of his wallet.

### CHAPTER TEN

Sola sat back in his chair and dared the beginnings of a grin. "Gotcha," he said into the silence of the computer room.

He stretched sore muscles and checked his watch. He noticed with surprise that he'd been here for most of the afternoon. It had been worth it.

Earlier in the day the other men had invited him to tag along to Jubilee's. It would have been a smart move to go with them and build his relationship with the rest of the team but Sola had been feeling a bit obsessed lately. Strange things had been going on in the team since he'd moved in. He wanted some answers.

First he'd noticed that Bee and Haney were close friends which wasn't unusual within a tight knit team like JC2. But he hoped it wasn't more than friendship because oh, how he hated fags with a passion.

Then he'd noticed the other relationships within the team that had the potential to disturb him. Jake and Black seemed to both pull and push at each other like a married couple. If he wasn't demanding Black's attention like a neglected wife Jake stared at his leader as though Black were his personal god. _Grow a fucking dick!_ Sola had almost yelled at the man a couple of times. _You're making a fool out of yourself._

Still, despite the theatrics with Black Sola enjoyed Jake's company when he acted like a man. Like himself, Jake clearly hated Calyx Starr. Jake obviously recognized the threat the empath held for the team and wanted him gone. Sola liked that. He'd already put Jake down as a potential ally in the future. It was always wise to keep track of such things.

But most disturbing of all to Sola was what was happening between their leader and the empath. Late at night Sola had heard the two men's doors closing at odd hours. Sometimes the men retired at the same time as though they'd been together. He didn't completely believe that -- Black seemed to firmly believe in keeping boundaries between himself and his subordinates -- but Starr was a freak. Who knew what he was doing to mess with the team leader's mind? If Starr was influencing Black in any way Sola needed to stop it.

Sola didn't know what everything meant -- on some level he was afraid to look too closely -- but until he understood his teammates better he couldn't get comfortable in JC2. He needed some leverage first. So he'd planted himself in front of a computer once everyone had left the houses and returned to digging for clues about his new leader.

After just under an hour of hiding his trail by going through a handful of hacker 'washers' -- scrambling websites used by hackers to prevent their computer's numerical identity from being recorded and thus rendering them traceable -- Sola had managed to break into the Juxtapose City Main Municipal Jail, a.k.a. Hangway.

He'd followed a hunch, driven down that route when every other attempt to learn more about Lieutenant Black had met with a dead-end. Black's trail was as cold as a corpse and no amount of nudging would bring it to life again. He needed to find a thread that took him deeper and what could be deeper than the captain himself?

Sola, like every other man at the department, had heard the rumors about the two men's relationship. Such things were inevitable when the leadership of JC2 had been given to someone like Black who had no proof of experience in the field or in leading a team of men but who was young, attractive and clearly very dedicated to what he did. Maybe too dedicated. Sola had learned in his career that men like Black would do anything to accomplish their goals and there was often a very fine line between using legitimate methods to get the job done and crossing over into those hushed up, unspoken means that everyone suspected of Black. It didn't take a rocket scientist: Black was a good-looking kid. Captain Dickerson had a history of taking advantage of hookers and snitches. It wasn't a hard leap to make.

So Sola had latched onto the Black-Dickerson connection and searched the captain's records for references to JC2's leader. After two hours of eye-straining Sola had found his break: Black's records had been sealed by Dickerson's order, #CD445-62. That order had only ever been applied to files pertaining to Black. But Sola found that particular red flag not only in the department's files but also in Hangway's.

It had caught Sola by surprise. He'd spent another forty-five minutes trying to determine if it was linked to Black's possible employment as a corrections officer within the jail. But the file wasn't tied to Human Resources. It was located in a deeply buried subdirectory within the prisoner directory.

No amount of hacking from this computer would break into this file and Sola quickly gave up trying. But though he couldn't read what was in the file it got the sergeant to thinking.

What could Black's connection to the prison population of Hangway be that was so bad it needed to be sealed by the captain? Sola had already tried searching for a criminal record on Black and came up empty. He'd found no evidence that Black had ever stepped foot in jail.

That's when Sola had expanded his thinking beyond the box. What if Black hadn't been a prisoner but had been an arresting officer? What if there was a scandal there? Maybe a prisoner had tried to blackmail him? Or maybe he'd pulled together a sloppy case that brought his ethics into question?

Or... what if Black had put an innocent man behind bars? A man that had been killed while in Hangway.

It was a possibility. Captain Dickerson, thinking with what was between his legs, would need to cover that fatal mistake in order to promote Black to lieutenant and appoint him as the leader of JC2. Sola wouldn't put it past the man. The captain, while someone he respected for his position, nonetheless struck Sola as the type of man who _would_ risk his career for that. It always amazed him what some men were willing to do for a piece of ass.

"Gotcha," he said again and this time his grin was sharp, edged with anger. He might be shooting in the dark with this theory but his gut told him he was getting close. Whatever Black's secret was it was looking more and more like something very dark and dirty that would crush Black completely. It might even be something Sola would enjoy revealing if it meant removing a corrupt officer from the force.

He sat up as he heard the garage door slam. Belatedly he realized that the low purr he'd heard in the background must have been Black's electro-bike. Sola cleared the cache on the computer and accessed his favorite hunting website. He noted with pride that the photo of his double take down of two deer was still on the community post board. Too bad he couldn't stand the taste of venison. He'd probably enjoy hunting a lot more if he could actually eat his kills instead of dumping them out in the fields.

Black's bedroom door slammed upstairs. Sola glanced at the ceiling. Black rarely showed a lack of restraint in anything he did. It was something Sola could grudgingly admire in the younger man. Control was the key to life, Sola believed. If you didn't take control, if you didn't go on the offensive in every aspect of your life you left yourself open to get screwed. Sola had learned that lesson well. He'd taken it to heart.

He spent another few minutes on the hunting site then clicked to an online weapons magazine and checked out the new rapid-fire guns being introduced this month. God, he loved guns. There was something about the solid feel of the weapon kicking back in your hand when you pulled the trigger that made Sola half hard just thinking about it.

He jerked his hand from his pants when his PRU buzzed. Captain Dickerson's face filled the screen and for a painful second Sola's heart stopped. But then he reminded himself that he'd been careful to cover his tracks. The captain couldn't know anything about his hacking.

"Captain Dickerson, sir. What may I help you with, sir?"

Dickerson ignored his deference. "Sergeant Sola, where is your lieutenant?"

"He just returned home, sir."

"Alone?"

Sola wondered briefly if the captain was testing him. "I only heard one set of footsteps on the stairs, sir. Someone else may be on the bottom floor; I don't know. I'm in the computer room. Studying the Glock A8," he added, because it never hurt to show your dedication.

To his disappointment Dickerson didn't appear to have heard him. The older man was frowning, his eyes distant. "Find Lieutenant Black," he ordered. "Give him your PRU."

Sola almost asked why the captain didn't just call Black on _his_ PRU, but wisely kept his mouth shut. "Yes, sir," he said and left the room.

### ~~~~~

Black sat cross-legged on the carpet and stared at the bounty he had spread before him. It was like a buffet for the underground. Glass vials of G-28 lay on the carpet, their bright green liquid shining like slivers of emeralds within. The tubes lay amidst every tablet of Bliss that he'd found in the silver case the captain had given him.

What should he start with? Black tapped his finger against his teeth, considering. He could start with the Bliss and get a nice, mellow high started. Then when he took the '28 it would extend that high until it broke into brilliant, crystal euphoria.

Or, he could take the '28 to clear his head and get his adrenaline up, then chase it with a handful of Bliss tabs to smooth out the edges.

It had been a long time since he'd done drugs. He wasn't sure if he missed it exactly, but he missed the escape it provided. You didn't care if you were about to be hit by an electro-craft when you were on drugs. Nothing mattered and no one mattered least of all yourself and all of your problems.

That's what he craved right now. Blankness. Happiness. Anything but what he currently felt which was tearing him up inside. He'd thought he could fool them all with his act. For almost a year he'd done a pretty good job of it. But in the end you can't hide a tiger's stripes no matter how much paint you use.

Even Starr had seen through to who Black really was, had seen that Black was not a police lieutenant worth respecting but common street garbage who didn't deserve better than what the empath had tried to do to him. Black fingered a sheet of Bliss tabs that looked like so many innocent candy buttons. If everyone knew why fight it? Temptation called.

What the hell are you doing?

He frowned, _that_ wasn't Temptation. He shoved the voice to the back of his head. An attack of conscience was not what he needed right now. He needed to fly away for a while until he could sort things out and figure out where he would go, what he would do. Until he figured out how far he needed to go to get away from Dickerson's influence.

And throw away everything that you've given up? Everything that you've done for him?

"I didn't want to do those things," he muttered. The sound of his voice startled him in its misery. Anxiously, he put down the Bliss and picked up a vial of '28 and shook it, watching it fizz.

_But you did do those things and you did them for a reason. To get away from_ **this**. _Do you want to go back? You know that he'll drag you back if you cross him._

Black knew. Of course he fucking knew. It was why he never said no, why he never fought. He owed Dickerson big time. He owed...

That's right. You owe him for the pathetic life you're trying to ruin right now. You don't have the right to throw yourself away like this. This isn't your life. This isn't your body. They're his. At least for now.

For now. Black stared at the liquid within the vial he held. Someday this would all change. Someday he would be a free man and if by then he still wanted to kill himself with drugs he would have the right to. And someday if he wanted to be something better – well, he could be that too.

But you've got to get there, first. Don't break now. You've come so far. Don't break. Not for them.

He raised his free hand and studied the long burn mark across his palm from when he'd grabbed the tail pipe to get away from Starr. The captain had raped Starr. Black had known it the minute he'd pulled off his helmet back in the garage. And yet even though he'd known, even though his insides had seethed with rage, he'd done nothing. Said nothing.

His own reaction didn't surprise him. He knew he wasn't good at facing things. He wasn't good at reacting. To feel emotion meant placing yourself on a tightrope over a huge hole full of despair, agony -- you name it -- and trying not to fall into it. That hole scared Black. He'd been trapped in it before. Only recently had he managed to climb out of it and he wasn't about to go anywhere near that edge again.

He hated what had been done to Starr. Detested it. No one deserved such treatment. But at the same time to sympathize and give the empath a shoulder to cry on meant stepping onto that tightrope and Black couldn't do it.

So Starr had tried to force him to react.

Black understood the reasons behind the empath's attack, but -- oh, god -- why had it had to be _that_ way?

Because he's an empath and he knows how to hurt you.

Black closed his eyes, fighting down the bile in his throat as his mind tried to drag him back to that moment when he'd been held down over the motorcycle and he'd felt Starr trying to push his way inside. Black shivered with nausea, his hand closing around the vial of G-28. It was a good thing the empath hadn't been able to get an erection because Black might have tried to kill him afterwards.

No. Forget _might_ have. Black would have killed him.

But it didn't happen and Starr's still a living member of your team. A hurting member. So what are you going to do about it? How are you going to help him?

Black opened his eyes tiredly. The rage was still there and it was white-hot, consuming him from the inside out. He knew what he needed to do. He just wasn't so sure he could do it. He didn't know if he had the guts. And now that he'd succumbed to Bliss yet again he wasn't so sure he could stay away from it.

He rubbed at his dry eyes just as a tiny click reached his ears. Even before he'd lowered his hand he knew that his last bit of luck had just deserted him.

The door to his room opened and it was like a scene from a movie: everything became slow motion. Black felt his own eyes go round, echoing Sola's. The sergeant's face went white as he looked down at Black surrounded by all of his drugs. Black instinctively tried to cover up the incriminating evidence but the moment his hands came in contact with the sheets of Bliss he knew he'd just made the ultimate mistake: he'd just made himself look ten times guiltier. Icy blue eyes fell to the '28 still in Black's hand and they hardened.

"Sergeant," Black said in a voice he had to push through his tight throat. "I didn't give you permission to enter my room."

It took a moment for Sola to find his voice as well. With a snap he raised his head to stare at the wall above Black's head. "My apologies, sir. I didn't realize you were..." he trailed off as his eyes fell to the drugs and then jumped away again. Sola held out his PRU. "Sir, I came to inform you that Captain Dickerson needs to speak with you. He asked me to let you use my PRU."

Black left the drugs on the carpet as he stood, knowing that it was a waste of time to hide them now. He could guess what was going through Sola's mind and he didn't know what to do about it. He accepted the unit warily, noting that Sola still refused to look him in the face.

Black raised the unit, digging his nails into his palm as he looked at Dickerson. The fury returned, tainting the edges of his vision with red. He wanted to demand why the captain had done it. He wanted to know what the hell the older man had thought to accomplish or if he'd been thinking at all. He wanted to know most of all why Dickerson got off on hurting other people. But all he said was, "Sir."

Something of what he felt must have leaked into his voice. The captain's face tightened. "Lieutenant Black, did you pick up Agent Starr as I asked you to?"

_You mean after you attacked him?_ "No, sir. I did not. Starr and I had a disagreement and I left him there." Black noticed that Sola still stood in the doorway, eyes riveted to the drugs on the floor. "Sergeant, leave. I'll return your PRU to you when I'm finished."

Sola's eyes flicked to him and then away. He didn't say a word as he spun on his heel and left.

"Why didn't you call me on my unit?" Black demanded of Dickerson.

"I tried calling it and you never answered," Dickerson shot back.

Black patted his pockets and came up empty. The last time he'd had it he was trying to-- Black gasped. He dimly remembered pushing the alarm button in his panic. What an idiot he was! Jake was probably tearing his hair out with worry, searching the city for him.

"I must have misplaced it somewhere," Black explained. "Sir, I really need to make an urgent call right now. What is it you needed to speak to me about?"

Dickerson's eyes narrowed at Black's tone but he let it slide. "I just received a message that I'd hoped was a mistake. But since you've admitted to not picking up Starr I have to believe the report is true. Who's in the house right now?"

Bee's car had been absent when he'd pulled into the garage which meant there was a good chance that Haney was with him. Jake was probably ransacking the city -- best not to think about that right now.

"Only Sergeant Sola."

Dickerson sighed, the lines in his face deepening. "Both of you gear up. Don't bother calling the others; there isn't time. Sergeant Cole and Agent Starr are already in the middle of an altercation and need your help." Dickerson paused, his eyes searching Black's face. "They've found Genesis."

The blood drained from Black's head. Whether he fell or he tripped somehow he ended up on the floor again. "Genesis?" he whispered. "But -- how?"

His eyes swung back to the drugs scattered across his bedroom floor. Dickerson was speaking to him but Black didn't hear a word of it.

Genesis.

Suddenly, Black wasn't so sure he wanted to be clean for this. What had seemed so terrible before didn't look half as bad as what lie ahead.

### ~~~~~

Jake didn't like Starr but that dislike didn't prevent him from wanting to kick in the face of whoever had done this to the empath.

Starr looked like hell. No, he looked like one of Hell's mistresses because he'd obviously been fucked like one. Jake glanced to the side at the other man, eyes skittering over the bruises and fingernail cuts and settling on the way Starr sat -- with his weight on one hip. Poor bastard. Even an empath -- an empath who'd been a whore -- didn't deserved what Starr had gotten.

"So you're still not gonna tell me, huh?" Silence was his answer. Jake ran a hand over his face as he steered the craft down the street Starr had directed him to. "You know I'm a cop. You know I'm not gonna let you sweep this thing under the rug. Especially now that you're -- one of us."

The words were hard to say. Starr was one of them now. It was like slivers of bamboo being shoved beneath Jake's fingernails to admit it but he couldn't deny the truth: Starr was a teammate. What hurt Starr hurt them all.

"Why do you care?" Starr threw back, looking out the side window. He held Black's PRU in his lap and was unconsciously caressing it with his fingers. "I'm competition, remember?"

"Competition, maybe." Jake let his voice show that he didn't think there was much of it. "But I'm not an asshole, Starr. What was done to you was just wrong. Whoever did it shouldn't get away with it." He glanced at the other man hopefully. "I want to hold him down while you kick him in the nuts."

Starr actually laughed, a husky sound that Jake felt in his groin. He squirmed in his seat.

Starr's bright green eyes found him, all the more stunning for being surrounded by black, bruising skin. "You surprise me, Cole. You've surprised me several times, in fact. You've had your chances to beat me while I'm down but you didn't. Better watch out: I may decide you're worth pursuing after all."

"Eh, no thanks," Jake mumbled, feeling himself blush. Damn empath.

Starr chuckled again and managed to relax fractionally. His shoulders settled back against the seat and his head rolled gently on the headrest. Jake glanced at him, pleased he'd been able to at least provide a sense of safety since the other man wasn't going to let him do much else.

To cover his frustration he brought up another topic. "So you haven't explained yet why you have Black's PRU. Or where he is."

Tension crept back into Starr. He sat up, his hand tightening around the unit in question.

"We had a fight," Starr said slowly. "A physical one. He dropped this during the middle of it."

The words made Jake uneasy. "A physical fight," he repeated, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

Starr tried to smirk but ended up wincing instead. "Oh, calm down, sweetheart. Do you honestly think Darkness is responsible for _this_?"

No, of course he didn't. Black would sooner offer up his own ass than rape someone else. Self-sacrifice was one thing Jake knew his leader was very, very good at.

"I know he didn't do it, but -- why'd you two fight?" _Especially after seeing you like this?_

Starr let his head fall back again. Jake glanced at him and saw that the empath's face showed a rare unhappiness. "I made a mistake. I treated him the way I had been treated. It was a mistake that I'm lucky Darkness didn't shoot me for. But at the time I thought he deserved it."

Jake nearly slammed on the brakes. "You tried to--"

"Killing me won't help you to find him," Starr reminded him calmly but he looked distressed. "If there's anyone who can find him in his current state of mind it'll be me."

"If you've hurt him I'll deliver you back to whoever did _this_ to you," Jake snarled and he meant it.

But Starr didn't give him the reaction he expected. The empath smiled at him as if seeing Jake differently. "You love him, don't you?"

The softly spoken question pierced Jake's anger, deflating it. It was a question he'd once asked himself the night Lucas and Max had been killed. Jake had been the first to find Black lying unconscious and bloodied in the street. Jake had nearly cried; he'd been so afraid. But Black had lived and there had been others to mourn so Jake had pushed the question aside. It didn't need answering anyway, he reminded himself. Black didn't want him so what was the use in loving him?

"Do I have to love him to care whether he's hurt?" Jake returned, his voice steady. "He's my teammate. He's my leader. That's what JC2 is about: we give our lives for each other. We care."

"We care," Starr murmured. Jake looked over at him and found the empath's eyes glassy, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. "Do you care for me, Sergeant Cole?"

It wasn't a come-on. Jake realized he was seeing a side of the freaky empath that he might never see again. "You're a pain in my ass, Starr, but I do care. You're one of us. You're part of the team. Black's team." Jake cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "But that still doesn't mean I'm going to sit by and watch you try to seduce him."

Starr laughed. "I wouldn't expect anything less of you, sweetheart. A worthy competitor makes winning the fair maiden all the more enjoyable."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Don't let Black hear you calling him a fair maiden. On second thought go right ahead. It'll make my job that much easier." Starr just smiled. "So where are we headed?"

Starr's teasing mood vanished. "Black turned west onto Repart Avenue." He hesitated before adding, "I think he might be heading to 'D' Street."

"What?!"

Starr winced and stuck a finger in his ear. "You have a tendency towards loud outbursts, don't you?"

Jake ignored him. "Why the fuck would he be heading there? I've told him a hundred times not to go looking for info without some sort of back-up."

Starr just shrugged, avoiding Jake's eyes.

Jake fumed, driving faster now that he knew where they were going. If Black wasn't hurt Jake was going to give the younger man a few bruises of his own. This was just one of many things Jake had wanted to speak to Black about but hadn't been given the chance. Their planned 'talk' hadn't happened yet and if it was too late... Jake gripped the wheel tighter and sailed through a red light.

"As a caring teammate I'd like to request that you not get us killed on the way," Starr said mildly.

Jake eased the pressure on the accelerator. "Sorry."

"You're concerned for him. It's understandable, sweetheart."

The empath's nonchalant tone made Jake shake his head. "I don't get you, Starr. You've just been fucked over -- pun intended -- and yet you sound like someone gave you a bad haircut and you're slightly peeved by it. Doesn't it -- doesn't it hurt?"

He was uncomfortable asking something like this; it was too personal and he didn't want to get personal with Starr of all people. But the other man's flippant attitude might be cause for concern. Starr might be in some kind of denial and need therapy or something. It might be an excuse for Jake to have Starr kicked off the team but he didn't feel too pleased with the 'opportunity'.

"Has this -- has this happened before to you?" he asked the empath, fearing the answer.

Starr stared ahead through the front window. Long fingers twirled a lock of purple hair, around and around. "I've been a prostitute for most of my adult life," Starr began quietly. "Before that I exchanged my body for the Bliss tabs I needed. Before _that_ I didn't have a choice in the matter. Pale hair and green eyes on a pretty boy draws attention no matter where you live. It's ten times worse when you live on the streets and the police are more than a phone call away -- they're non-existent."

Jake listened, a part of him not wanting to care. This was his rival after all: the same cocky asshole who wanted to steal Black and screw him. But Jake was only human and he couldn't distance himself from the faint tremor he heard in Starr's voice, something so faint he could have told himself he imagined it. Could have -- if only for the shine to the empath's eyes that told Jake the vulnerability might very well be real.

"To answer your question, Cole, it does hurt. It did. The first time I nearly died from it." Starr raised the lock of hair he'd been twirling and distractedly ran it across his mouth, back and forth. "I tried to bury myself in Bliss to forget, to not _think_ about why it had happened, why I'd allowed it..." His mouth twisted as he glanced briefly at Jake. "You know the reaction, I'm sure."

Jake nodded. "The guilt of the victim. Convinced he or she has done something to incite their attacker. The dirtiness afterwards."

"Oh, you don't know dirty," Starr whispered and the darkness in his voice made Jake shiver. "The thought of another body against yours makes you sick. The thought of touching yourself makes you want to cut off your skin." Starr dropped his hand, his voice numb. "But if you live on the streets you don't see some fancy psychiatrist. You survive. You go on. And when you're an empath like me you prepare yourself for the next time. And the time after that. And every time it gets a little easier to lock it all away."

"You sound... almost normal about it now," Jake ventured.

Starr looked at him brightly. "Do I?" He sat back, smiling faintly. "Good."

"But I know you're not," Jake finished, locking gazes with the other man.

He pulled up to a red light. In the darkening light of approaching evening the stop light painted Starr in bruises and blood.

"Those times I've been raped have been the only times in my life when I've wanted to kill myself for being able to read other people's feelings." Starr's eyes were black, his smile brittle. "The things I feel are so very, very ugly, Sgt. Cole. The human race can be a terrible thing sometimes."

Jake looked into those eyes and for a moment he lost all animosity for the man. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry you have to be this way."

Starr didn't smile. "I'm sorry too."

### ~~~~~

It happened in an instant. One moment Calyx was watching the dirty, scarred buildings whizzing by and wondering what would happen if he jumped out of the craft. The next moment his head was bouncing off the side window so hard the glass nearly cracked.

Calyx clutched his head. "Damn it, Cole!"

The other man groaned as he turned off the engine. Not that it mattered; Jake had driven them into the corner of a shoe store and the front end of the electro-craft was crushed.

Calyx felt his all of his limbs -- he was surprised at how difficult it was to discern old injury from new -- and decided he hadn't been hurt too badly. He rounded on the other man who was unbuckling his seatbelt with shaky hands. "What happened? You were driving just fine until you freaked out."

"Something -- something pushed into my brain." Jake was wide-eyed, looking out the cracked front window.

Calyx recognized the hysteria he saw in the sergeant's face: fear of the telepath. No one wanted a stranger reading the awful things that filled your head. Even more frightening was the possibility that a telepath could crawl into your mind and begin controlling your actions. Telling people that there wasn't a single telepath on the planet who could manage something like that was pointless.

Besides, Calyx wasn't so sure it was the truth.

"What did you feel, exactly?" he demanded, grabbing Jake by the arms. "Explain it!"

Jake jerked free and scrubbed at his face, trying to get a grip. In a calmer voice he said, "I don't know how to explain it. I just know it wasn't anything I'd ever felt before. It was like an invisible finger was massaging my brain but it wasn't really a finger, more like -- like words running across my head."

Calyx kept his face purposefully blank. "What words?"

Jake's golden eyes held fear. " _Come to me_."

There was only one man alive who Calyx knew could send thoughts to other people. "Genesis," he said grimly.

"What?" Jake's eyes bulged. He dug around furiously in his jeans. "You're telling me that what I just felt was fucking Genesis? How? I thought he'd gone crazy. I heard someone shot him."

"He's alive and he's sane," Calyx replied, trying his door to see if it would open. It did. "We need to get out of here."

"Fuck that, I'm calling the captain and then we're waiting for back-up."

"No! Don't call!" Calyx made a dive for Jake's PRU but Jake jumped out the other side of the craft. In a second, the man had Dickerson on the screen.

"Sir, we've found Genesis!"

If he weren't so concerned about their predicament, Calyx might have been amused by Jake's hysterical reaction. But Jake was right to fear: Genesis was no one they needed to play around with. Especially when it was just the two of them. He only wished Dickerson didn't have to know about it.

Jake was nodding. "Yes, sir. We'll locate him and hold for the others."

Calyx almost laughed as Jake put the PRU away. "Locate and hold? Surely you're joking, sweetheart? What's to stop our dear Genesis from hearing your thoughts as we creep up on him?"

"Who says he won't hear yours?" Jake retorted defensively, drawing his gun and checking the clip.

Calyx ached for his faze whip. Without it he was weaponless. "I'm a psypath. First thing you learn is to block yourself from other psypaths. A professional courtesy, if you will." Calyx stepped off the street, edging towards an alley. "Besides, I suppose it won't matter anyway. Genesis already knows you're here. He called to you."

"Fucking great." Jake backed with Calyx into the alley, gun held ready. "What would he want with me? He doesn't know me." His eyes rounded. "Or is it because of you?"

Calyx glanced to the sky, willing the blackness of night to descend faster. "Mmm, try me _and_ JC2. We seem to be Genesis' current obsessions. We're both in some deep shit, Cole."

Jake turned to face the empath, his manner all business. "What are you trying to say -- that we don't stand a chance? I refuse to believe that. He's just a man."

"No, he's not," Calyx stated. "He's a telepath." Over Jake's shoulder, a flash of blue crossed the street. "Someone's coming."

Jake pulled the slide on his gun, chambering a round. "Let him come."

### ~~~~~

Bee normally drove JC2's big utility craft when they responded to missions but in his absence Black made Sola take the wheel. If anything it would distract the man from asking questions. Or from looking at Black with the same dark suspicion he'd aimed towards Black when they'd geared up.

Black had suffered it stoically. It was the best he could do until he could come up with an explanation for why he'd been sitting amidst a pile of illegal drugs with every intention of ingesting them.

He'd already called Bee and Haney and informed them of the situation, instructing them to suit up at home and wait just in case. He used Sola's PRU again to call Jake.

His second-in-command's face flashed on the screen. Relief momentarily replaced the severe expression Jake was wearing.

"Black! Thank God, you're okay, baby."

He couldn't even be mad at the endearment. The enthusiastic response made Black feel a little better. It was easy to forget sometimes that there was someone like Jake who honestly cared about what happened to him.

"Where are you?" Black asked.

Jake looked up from the screen. "'C' and about a block south of 21st." He frowned at something off screen. "Black, it's Genesis."

"I know. Just hold on--"

"Oh, shit!" A sound like firecrackers filled Black's ear clip. Then the screen went black and 'No Signal' ran across the screen.

Black nearly crushed the PRU in his hand. "Sola, how far are we from 21st and 'C'?" he shouted to the front.

The craft suddenly swerved with a screech of tires that would have sent Black flying face-first into the wall of the craft if he hadn't been buckled in. "Thanks to that we're just a block away," Sola yelled back.

Black checked his equipment: tightening the straps on his flak jacket and slapping on his helmet, testing its headset with Sola. With Jake and Starr helmet-less and without a PRU there was no way to contact them. He hoped they weren't far from their original location.

He hoped they were still alive.

Sola brought the craft to a shuddering halt. Before the vehicle came to a complete stop Black threw open the back doors and jumped out. Sola similarly launched himself from the driver's side.

Black hadn't had the opportunity to train with Sola yet. He didn't know how well the sergeant knew their hand signals and maneuvers. Sola hadn't chosen his mission handle yet either. Black decided to risk communication using the man's real name.

"Sola, Wide Scatter, three and four."

Beside him Sola moved to the right, gun swinging to cover the street.

The sky was purple and edging into indigo. Street lamps came on, most of them sputtering within broken casings. No one was on the sidewalk and traffic was slow. It would become even slower as soon as the neighborhood realized what was going down. This far into the heart of the city residents knew to keep under cover when the cops showed up.

Sola moved in a wide circle to Black's left. Black watched him approvingly from the corner of his eye. Cautiously, the two men made their way up the street, eyes trained for furtive movement. They came upon Jake's electro-craft crashed into the side of a building. Black didn't waste time checking to see if the other men were inside it. His eyes scanned the buildings for one that had the grey metal siding he'd seen behind Jake's head in the PRU.

"Alley, three o'clock," he said into the headset.

As Sola kept cover Black moved into the alley. Midway through he spotted Jake's PRU. Black toed it with his boot. The unit was destroyed, hit by a bullet. Black studied the asphalt and the walls of the buildings on either side. No blood.

He raised his head to call Sola but something blue flicked at the edge of his vision. He started to turn when a hand reached inside his head and twisted.

### ~~~~~

Starr limped into the darkest corner he could find and dumped Jake into the boxes of trash. The empath followed him right down, sinking into moldy produce from the nearby grocer.

"Ow, fuck!"

"Do you always whine this much when you're shot?" Starr muttered. He flicked a limp banana peel off his arm with a sneer of disgust. "I thought you were a bigger man than that, Cole."

"Screw you; something just stabbed me in the ass." Jake lifted up, grimacing as his bloodied arm took the strain, and yanked up a browned ear of corn. "If I end up getting killed while lying in this stuff I'm gonna be really pissed off, Starr."

Starr spared him a wry look. At least Jake could still find it in him to joke about the situation. Jake thought he was taking things pretty well, all things considering.

"So that was Genesis, huh?" Jake lay back in the garbage and began ripping off part of the hem of his shirt. "That was some creepy shit."

"Mmm, he does have a rather intimate way of getting to know a person, doesn't he?"

Right after the shooting had begun Genesis had sent Jake another message, telling him to drop his weapon. Jake had been so startled he'd staggered backwards, nearly shooting Starr as he reflexively pulled the trigger on his gun. One of those errant shots must have come too close for Genesis' comfort for the telepath had stopped sending, allowing Starr to drag a stunned Jake into another alley.

"It felt like his fingers were sinking into my brain." Jake shuddered at the invasive memory. He allowed Starr to tie the strip of shirt around his arm wound. "I really hope I don't have to see that guy again."

Starr looked down the alley pessimistically. "Don't hold your breath, sweetheart."

Jake followed the gaze, worried for Black. "The others are going to be caught off-guard. Damn, I wish I hadn't lost that PRU. There's no way for them--"

(I'm so happy you could make it. I put in quite an effort to get you here.)

Jake gasped, scrambling back in the garbage as the words slithered into his mind. Even Starr looked upset, standing up in a rush of movement. Jake looked around wildly, searching for the telepath. The alley was empty.

(Why aren't you happier to see me? I've missed you so much.)

Jake shook his head like a dog trying to fling water out of its ears. "What's going on?" he panted. "Where is he?"

Starr touched his head, distracted, as he looked down the alley. "He's not talking to you. He's not talking to either of us."

"Are you nuts? I hear him! So do you."

Starr shook his head looking troubled, which Jake did not like at all. Until now the empath hadn't been rattled by Genesis. "He's not sending to us. He's sending to someone who's trying to block him. Genesis isn't strong enough to narrow his powers to affect one person. The harder he strains, the more his power diffuses. He's using a lot of power right now if even I can hear him."

"We're getting the overflow, you mean. But who's he--" Jake jumped to his feet, his heart somewhere behind his tonsils. "Black!"

"We've got to find him," Starr agreed, breaking into a run.

(Remind me what I've been missing, won't you? Open your jacket.)

Jake slowed to a walk, his hands unbuttoning an invisible jacket. Ahead of him Starr skidded to a halt and then turned and ran back to him. He grabbed Jake's hands.

"Break it! It's just a compulsion. Don't listen to him. Sing a song in your head. Recite a poem."

Jake was scared. He hadn't been in control of his actions just now. Genesis could have made him walk off a bridge. And Christ -- _he_ wasn't even the one who was receiving the brunt of Genesis' power.

"This is bad," he breathed shakily, running forward again.

(Stop fighting. Undo you shirt.)

Jake nearly tripped over a cardboard box as his mind began to focus on unbuttoning his shirt. He looked up only when he realized that Starr was holding his hands again. "Shit!"

"He's strong," Starr confirmed, staring into Jake's eyes to be sure he was lucid. "Genesis may be stronger than he was before. It feels like it."

"But why is he doing this to Black?" Jake asked. "Genesis is making it sound like he's a long-lost buddy or something." _Or more than that._ But he really didn't want to think about that possibility right now.

Starr though, had already made that leap. "I think it's very obvious that Genesis is enamored of our fearless leader. I don't think that's a good thing, sweetheart."

Suddenly a vision flooded both of their heads:

Black with his hands tied behind his back, being lowered onto a man's hard, swollen cock. He groaned as each inch slowly filled him.

"Fuck!" Jake spat, sickened by the hard-on that filled his pants. Jake grabbed the other man's arm. "Enough of this shit. We need to find them."

(Lean back. Tilt your head up.)

Jake bit his tongue, using the pain to distract him from the order. To his relief it worked. He lowered his chin on his own and met Starr's approving nod.

"Let's go, sweetheart."

They stopped at the end of the alley, Jake in front. He hadn't lost his gun and he allowed the weapon to lead as he darted his head around the corner of a building. He saw JC2's utility craft parked up on the sidewalk.

"They're close," he whispered back to Starr.

(Ah, yes. Open your legs for me. Don't be shy.)

Jake's legs trembled as he resisted the order. Oh, God, Black! His leader must be fighting Genesis good for the telepath to be sending out like this. Jake was by turns proud of his former lover and disturbed by what Starr had suggested about Black and Genesis. It couldn't be true. There was no way it could. _But listen to what he's saying to Black._

"What are you waiting for?" Starr hissed behind him.

Jake clamped down on his stray thoughts and moved forward, gun extended. Instinct told him that Black and Sola had sought his and Starr's old location. With Starr in tow he carefully traversed the sidewalk, heading towards the alley that he and the empath had first been flushed from. At the mouth of the alley he paused before slowly peeking into it.

"Bastard!" Starr snarled. It was Jake's response, exactly.

Sola sat on the ground, weapon abandoned at his feet, both hands covering his ears. The man's eyes were tightly clenched and Jake thought he could hear the man moaning as he rocked back and forth.

Genesis had fucked with him. Sola was out of commission.

Jake discarded the man for what really mattered to him: Black and Genesis.

It was Jake's first glimpse of Genesis, the telepath the JCPD claimed to want to catch but was too afraid to touch. The last Jake had heard of the man Genesis had been a drooling idiot, abandoned on the streets by his gang and presumably shot. What he saw before him was no idiot and no ghost.

Genesis was tall and had a build similar to his own. He wore a long black PVC duster that came to the tops of his thick black boots. The boots had wickedly pointed toes that Jake would have normally laughed at as being sissy shoes but he'd bet his balls that the points on those boots were there for more than just style.

Genesis was facing him and the front of his duster was opened at the chest, cinched at the waist by a belt. Jake could make out the suggestion of a broad chest and shoulders beneath the electric blue shirt the man wore. Genesis was strong.

Medium-length, glossy black hair flowed over the raised collar of the coat, brushing the tops of Genesis' shoulders. The solid color was stark contrast to Genesis' face.

Genesis was a handsome man, square-jawed and smooth-skinned beneath the pale powder he wore. He wasn't classically beautiful like Starr not did he possess the angry, male model look of Black. Genesis was just handsome. And slightly scary, in Jake's opinion. Besides the pale makeup, Genesis' face was decorated with swirling blue face paint. It wasn't a tribal pattern; Jake guessed that it was some psypath thing. The blue swirling pattern traveled from ear to ear in an arc over the top of his face, extending from his hair line to an inch or so towards the center of his face. The blue framed his eyes which were lined thickly in kohl. They too, were a brilliant blue.

He was the freakiest freak Jake had encountered yet and just seeing him so close to Black made him want to scream.

Genesis was smiling down at the lieutenant with lips painted a matte black. Genesis whispered something that Jake couldn't hear and bent to run his tongue up Black's cheek. Black had his eyes clenched shut and was drenched with sweat, shaking as his assault rifle hung uselessly in his slack fingers.

Genesis moved closer, backing Black against the wall of the alley. One knee was inserted between Black's legs and was moving up and down against him. Black's flak jacket and the heavy black shirt he wore beneath were both open, baring his naked chest to the gloved fingers that were pinching Black's nipples.

"Fucker," Jake seethed, surging forward.

But his attempt to make a glorious rescue was foiled before he could take a step. Excruciating pain lanced through his head. He stopped, floundering in agony where he stood. Something smashed together in his mind like two invisible fists pounding against each other, knuckle to knuckle. He groaned as his eyes rolled up into his head. The pain escalated. He thought he could hear voices... He dropped to the ground unconscious.

Calyx stepped over him, clutching at his head but retaining consciousness by sheer willpower. His head throbbed, stuffed with too much input. He heard things that made him want to gape in wonder. But there was no time for that. He bent and picked up Jake's gun, intending to do what the sergeant couldn't.

Before he could, the alley erupted into a spray of bullets.

The brick wall overhead seemed to explode, raining shards of concrete onto his head. He ducked down and yanked at Jake's body, trying to pull him out of the line of erratic gunfire. He looked up to see Genesis jumping backwards, his face a mask of surprise. Black's assault rifle rattled wildly in the narrow alley like hail on a tin roof.

Genesis laughed amidst the wreckage. "That's what I was looking for." His eyes flicked to Calyx, kneeling over Jake's inert body. "We'll do this again when we don't have an audience."

Black's answer was the clatter of his gun, bullets stabbing the asphalt at the telepath's feet. Genesis jumped out of the way and grabbed Sola, dragging the insensate man to his feet. Genesis used him as a human shield as he backed down the alley. Black's face was sheened with sweat as he stared after them. A roar of fury ripped from his lungs when Genesis finally dropped Sola at the end of the alley and he disappeared into the shadows. Black brought a hand up to his face and sobbed once.

Calyx murmured in shared anger. The sound made Black drop the hand from his face and swing his gun towards the empath. Calyx froze. The look on Black's face made Calyx very, very nervous.

"You could do it," Calyx said, trying to be calm but finding his nerves strung out like he'd been off of Bliss for a month. "You could shoot me and blame it on a stray bullet. Cole would vouch for you."

"You think you deserve it?" Black asked, his voice raw.

"Maybe." Calyx swallowed, rising to his feet. "Maybe we both do, sweetheart. Or maybe--" he took one step towards Black "-- maybe we both deserve a second chance."

"Don't try -- don't try to know me," Black said, his voice cracking.

Calyx took another step forward. Then another. The gun followed him, its muzzle aimed at his chest. "You know I can't promise that, Darkness." Calyx approached him until the hot tip of the gun threatened to sear a hole through the ragged remains of his shirt. "But I can promise that I won't use what I learn to try to hurt you."

The gun wavered. Black's eyes were huge. "I'm sorry for what he did," Black croaked. "I should have protected you. You're my responsibility."

Calyx's smile was pained. "There was nothing you could have done, sweetheart."

"Yes, there was. I could have prevented it." The gun sagged, its tip dragging on the concrete. Black slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes. "My head hurts."

Calyx wanted to touch him but he didn't. He said, "Everything will be alright. We survived. That's all that matters."

But the affirmation didn't help. Black kept his eyes closed and his smile was defeated. "No," he murmured, "nothing can ever be right again."

### ~~~~~

Captain Dickerson looked up as his office door slammed. Black stood before him.

Dickerson waved him away. "There's no reason for you to be here. I have your report on Genesis on my PRU. It was a bit sketchy in some places but it was adequate."

"I want you to stay away from my team."

Dickerson pushed away the keyboard he'd been working on and sat back in his chair. "What are you talking about, lieutenant?"

"You gave me command of JC2. That means it's mine." Black braced both hands on Dickerson's desk and leaned forward until he could see the veins in the captain's eyes. "I protect what's mine. No one is allowed to hurt them. Not even you."

He knew he'd surprised Dickerson. Black had never defied him before.

"You forget who holds the cards here," the captain responded angrily. "You don't tell me what to do, lieutenant. You're lucky to be standing where you are."

But Black wasn't afraid. Black was determined. "I haven't forgotten. I'm well aware of the situation, captain. That's why I'm willing to make a bargain with you."

Dickerson's eyes narrowed. "What is this bargain?"

Black's voice cut through the silence like a surgeon's knife, slow and precise. "I want you to leave Starr alone. I don't want you to touch him and I don't want you to talk to him. That goes for the rest of my team as well. You don't go near them unless it's for official business."

Dickerson smirked. "And in return?"

The coffee-brown eyes muddied. "I'll give you what I haven't before. I'll give you everything."

Dickerson shook his head. "I'll get that from you eventually anyway, lieutenant. Unlike you I know how far your resistance will stretch before it breaks. It's only a matter of time."

Before the other man could guess his intentions, Black whipped out his gun and placed it against the captain's temple. Dark eyes smoldered with rage as they glared back at Black.

"How dare you--"

"It's not a big drop for me, captain. You know I could do it."

Dickerson's lips curled. "You don't scare me, boy."

In an abrupt flip, Black pulled the gun on himself, pressing the muzzle beneath his chin. "Then what if I threaten something else of yours? How much do you want me? You know I don't care. A bullet in the brain or continuing on the way it is isn't much different to me."

The seconds stretched, their eyes locked. Black wasn't bluffing. Dickerson had to see that. After a long taut moment the captain held up his hands. "Put the gun away, Black."

Black kept the gun where it was. "We have a deal?"

Dickerson nodded and held out his hand. "I stay away from your team. You submit to what I want."

It was a deal with the Devil. The Devil's hand was hot and dry as it engulfed Black's. "This may have worked out for both of us," Dickerson purred, the tip of his middle finger stroking the inside of Black's wrist.

Black let him, holding back a shudder until the captain released him. He quickly backed to the door and opened it. Looking back, he said, "JC2 will be fully functional by the end of next week. We'll be ready for anything you require of us."

"That's good to hear, lieutenant. I'm sure I'll have need of your _services_ in due time."

Black shut the door, banishing the image of Dickerson smirking behind his steepled fingers. Black told himself that he'd done the right thing. It was the only thing. If he was going to lead this team he had to keep it safe.

He felt the glances following him out of the station. He heard the whispers. He knew what they said about him. At long last he didn't care. What they thought of him was true in many ways. He had finally come to accept who he was. He was Dickerson's boy. He was the department's slave. He was also JC2's leader and he was proud of it.

JC2 would soon be a force to be reckoned with in the JCPD. Black would stake his career and his life on it.

Thanks in part to Calyx Starr, he just had.

### ###

### Read more from Tricia Owens:

### <https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TriciaOwens>

