Dr. Daniel Cassian glanced at his watch. It was getting late. He’d had an eventful, but thoroughly enjoyable weekend with his daughter, Renee, and he had an early morning meeting. Besides, the thumping beat of the music and the smoky atmosphere of the bar was really getting on his nerves. He downed the last of his drink and rose to leave. Stretching his lanky frame, he pulled on his trench coat and headed out the door.
       Walking with his hands deep in his coat pockets and his head down, he’d gone only a short way when he spotted large legs in his way. He sidestepped to go around, but the legs sidestepped with him. Cassian stopped and looked up at a human mountain. Cassian was a tall man, but this guy was a good half-foot taller and twice as wide. He sighed and tried another sidestep, but wasn’t surprised to find the mountain moved with him. He calmly turned around to head the other way and was disappointed to find a second human mountain blocking his way. With a heavy sigh and prudently keeping his hands in his pockets - he had no weapon and there was no reason to make anyone suspect he did - he turned toward the car he knew would be waiting at the side of the road. The back door opened and Cassian leaned over to see who was inside.
       “Pete!” he said with a joviality he did not feel. “Long time, no see.” That was true enough - Cassian hadn’t seen Peter Hanlon in at least 8 or 9 years. At that time, Hanlon was working for the State Department.
       “Cassian, get in.”
       “Well, that’s rude,” Cassian said with genuine frustration. “I don’t hear word one from you in some ten years and you suddenly show up on a street corner with a couple goons and all you can say is, ‘get in’ - that’s just plain rude, Pete.”
       “Get in, now.”
       “I’m on vacation till tomorrow - find me then.” He stood and started to take a step back, but walked into one of the human mountains.
       “It’s not business, anyway, Cassian,” Hanlon said from the car. “It’s personal and you have no choice, so get in.”
       Resigned to his fate, Cassian sighed again, took his hands out of his pockets and climbed into the back of the car. As the car began moving, he said, “So what’s this all about?”
       The answer was swift and completely unexpected. Cassian never saw it coming. A fist to his jaw made his vision flare a moment before everything went black.

       Dr. Kimberly Shiroma was examining some specimens under a microscope. Her long black hair was tied back to keep it from flopping down in front of the eyepiece.
       “Do you ever stop working?” Dr. Edward Marcase asked from his position nearby with his feet resting on the tabletop. “Don’t you ever relax?”
       Shiroma sighed. “I find my work relaxing.” Marcase was drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair and it was becoming an irritation. Her early hatred of the man she had once blamed for her fiancé’s death had first turned to a grudging respect and had now grown to a genuine fondness. Marcase could be a real pain in the ass, but his compassion was sincere and he had frequent flashes of brilliant insight. That in itself could be a major irritation - Shiroma could work on a problem for weeks only to have Marcase come along and pull the answer out of the ether with no apparent effort at all. She sometimes wondered if the brush with death he had suffered when exposed to Ebola at an early age had anything to do with his unusual insight.
       He was irreverent and always dressed casually, but today he was practically slovenly. The jeans he wore were busted out at one knee and his dark hair was all over the place. His eyes held a sort of wild look and he was in constant agitated motion. Something was bothering the young man, but he had so far refused to comment. The leader of their Biohazard Crisis Team was missing. Dr. Daniel Cassian had called an early morning meeting for the day before, but had never showed up. They had found a specimen waiting at the lab and Shiroma was now examining it, but Cassian had still not showed up. The two men were always at each other like wolves, surely Marcase wasn’t so anxious about Cassian. She was about to ask when the other member of their team entered.
       Michael Hailey was in charge of security for the team and he had been out searching for information about Cassian’s probable whereabouts. A broad shouldered black man with a shaved head and neat goatee, Hailey never had any difficulty intimidating someone and nothing much could phase him. Today, he wore a frown.
       Marcase dropped his feet to the floor and stood. “Any word?” he asked.
       “Nobody knows anything,” Hailey replied. “It’s like he just dropped off the face of the Earth.”
       “You found no trace at all?” Shiroma asked, clearly starting to worry herself now.
       “I didn’t say that, but I certainly found nothing through official channels.”
       “What then?” Marcase wanted to know.
       “Someone saw him picked up near a bar Sunday night.”
       “You’re telling me he’s been romping through the hay for a day and a half?”
       Marcase seemed incredulous and angry at the same time, Shiroma thought. Could he possibly be jealous?
       “He did not go willingly,” Hailey explained, wondering how Marcase could have reached any other conclusion.
       “He’s been snatched?!” Marcase was appalled now. “What for?”
       “I don’t know, but I have a good line on where they took him and I’m heading that way now.”
       “I’m going too,” Marcase insisted.
       “I don’t think…” Hailey tried to say, but Marcase cut him off.
       “He may need medical attention and I’m going whether you like it or not.” He walked out before any other argument could be made.
       Hailey and Shiroma looked at each other and Shiroma finally said, “I guess I’ll stay here and find out what this sample is all about.”
       “Great,” Hailey said, relieved she wasn’t insisting on going too. “I’ll try to keep you informed.”

       When Cassian came to, he was laying on his stomach on a hard and cold concrete floor. He lifted his head, but a pain shot through his jaw and made him groan. He turned himself over and gingerly felt the left side of his face. It was swollen and his jaw was dislocated. He yelped as he snapped it back into place and then tried to ease the pain by gently massaging the area for a while.
       He looked around and found himself in a small concrete cell. There was no adornment, no furniture - just four concrete walls, a concrete floor and a concrete ceiling. The room was just barely big enough for him to lay flat and then only diagonally. There was a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, much too high to be reached - presumably to prevent some hopeless prisoner from electrocuting himself. The door appeared to be metal and heavy and solid, with only a small covered eye slit at the top.
       By the time Cassian had finished the assessment of his surroundings, he also realized that he had been stripped to his briefs. What the hell was his old friend playing at anyway? And he had considered Peter Hanlon a friend all those years ago. But then, as he’d grown older and more wary, he’d learned to choose his friends more wisely and trust them a little less.
       He occasionally dozed in a corner, sometimes paced around the small cell, sometimes lay with his feet on the wall - he didn’t know how much time had passed and no one ever came to check on him - he never even heard any footsteps outside the door. As the minutes, hours, perhaps days passed, he became more certain of what lay ahead. Whoever Hanlon worked for, they wanted something and the isolation and his nakedness indicated they were willing to torture for it. What did they want? Would it be important enough or dangerous enough to demand he withstand their torture to keep it from them? Could he withstand their torture? He liked to think of himself as a strong man and he’d suffered his share of pain - both physical and psychological, but torture? He’d taken a beating or two in his day, but something told him these people meant business and he could look forward to more than a simple beating. Panic started to creep through his chest, but he swallowed it down and tried to stop himself from shaking.
       He tried not to think about it - tried to find something else to think about, to distract himself. His mind wandered to thoughts of Edward Marcase. Friend, colleague, lover - he envisioned Edward standing naked before him. The young man’s dark hair was disheveled; his dark penetrating eyes were heavy lidded and lustful; the thick hair on his chest was matted with sweat. He squatted down over Cassian’s groin with his throbbing manhood stretched along his stomach and ran his large hands over Cassian’s smooth chest. Cassian closed his eyes and groaned softly. Lost in the fantasy, he only vaguely heard the door slot open. He opened his eyes and dimly noticed the barrel of a gun. Before it could fully register that he was about to be shot, he felt a small, but sharp pain at the center of his chest. The vision of Marcase vanished and Cassian found a tranquilizer dart embedded in his chest. He pulled it out and looked at it, several thoughts swirling through his head. Why had Marcase shot him with a dart? No, Marcase hadn’t really been there, that was just a dream. It was Hanlon. They were going to torture him now. He’d break down and tell them everything and then they would torture him anyway. Panic started to rise again, but he passed out before it could take hold.

       When he came to again, Cassian was in a heavy steel chair. His wrists were shackled to the armrests and his ankles were shackled to the chair legs. A bucket of water had just been sloshed over him and he coughed and sputtered for a moment before shaking the wet dark blond hair out of his eyes. His feet were resting in a tub of water and there was something strapped around his chest. He knew what was coming and fear crept through his mind again.
       “Welcome back, Dan,” Hanlon said in a friendly way that made Cassian feel nauseous. Or maybe that was the fear. Either way, he suddenly vomited all over Hanlon’s shoes. Hanlon yelped and jumped back, landing a backhand across Cassian’s jaw on the way.
       Cassian grunted with the blow to his still swollen jaw, but couldn’t suppress a small grin of triumph. If he had to vomit, he was glad he ruined Hanlon’s shoes in the process. “Sorry, old friend,” he muttered. “Must have been something you said.”
       Hanlon sat behind a desk across from Cassian’s chair and wiped his shoes with a rag. “I’m glad to see your sense of humour has not been dulled by recent circumstances, Dan,” he said as he steepled his hands in front of him on the desk.
       Cassian looked around a bit. There was a human mountain to each side of his chair. The room was fairly large, but sparsely furnished. He couldn’t see behind him, but could hear there was at least one other person there. The giant swastika flag in the corner and the framed portrait of Hitler behind Hanlon’s back explained who his old friend was working for. Funny, he’d never figured Peter Hanlon for a Nazi.
       He studied his old friend a bit. He hadn’t changed much, although his thin blond hair had gotten thinner and whiter. He sported a tasteful blond mustache and wore wire-rimmed glasses. With his thousand-dollar suit and now ruined shoes, he looked like any successful businessman. “So, how long has it been?” Cassian asked.
       “You said so yourself - about ten years.”
       “You know what I mean, Hanlon.” He’d meant how long had he been held captive, although the growth of beard he now had told him it had been about two days at least.
       Hanlon smiled. “Yes, I know what you mean. A day and a half or so, how do you feel?”
       “Oh, great! You have a wicked right jab, by the way.”
       “Yes, I noticed your jaw is swollen - sorry about that. The tranquilizer dart was much more effective, don’t you think?”
       “When are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
       “Ah, to the point, good.” Hanlon got up and walked around to lean on the corner of the desk. “The Eyes of Odin,” he said simply.
       Okay, that made sense. Hitler’s men had discovered the strange red gems at the end of WWII and had actually implanted them into the body of a young soldier for safe keeping - intending to retrieve them later and somehow use them to forge a new and invincible Reich. That young soldier had lived with his terrible secret for 50 years before deciding he wanted to be rid of it before he died. Cassian’s team had removed the capsule containing the Eyes from the old man’s body, but a Nazi group who had infiltrated key government positions had tried to take possession of them. They had nearly succeeded too. The Eyes were lenses of a sort, but the power they possessed was unfathomable. No one knew just what they could do, but if they could do half of what these people thought they could do, they mustn’t get into the wrong hands. Cassian had to keep them safe.
       After an awkward silence, Cassian asked, “Is that some new soap opera on channel three?” He half expected to be smacked across the jaw again for that, but Hanlon just smiled again.
       “We both know what I’m talking about. You have them and I want them. You will tell me where they are, sooner or later, so you had might as well tell me now and avoid any further unpleasantness.”
       Cassian sighed. “I have a fairly good idea what you have in mind for me, but you and I both know I can’t possibly tell you where they are. I don’t mind telling you, I’m scared out of my mind, but in the end, I’ll be dead and you won’t have what you want and all this ‘unpleasantness,’ as you put it, will have been for nothing.”
       Hanlon nodded and walked back around to sit behind the desk again. “You’ll tell me, Cassian.” He leaned on his elbows across the desk and asked, “Where are the Eyes of Odin right now?”
       Cassian said nothing. Hanlon made a faint motion with his eyes to the human mountain at Cassian’s left and suddenly there was a definite cracking sound and a sharp pain shot up Cassian’s arm as the small finger of his left hand was broken. Cassian yelped and jumped slightly in the chair. The chair must have been fastened down to the floor, because it never budged.
       “Shit!” Cassian exclaimed in surprised pain. He hadn’t expected that - he had been expecting and bracing for an electrical shock.
       Hanlon smiled. “I will ask you again, Cassian, and each time you refuse to answer, Harold there will snap another one of your fingers. You’re a doctor, Dan, and I know your hands are important to you. All you have to do to save them and yourself is tell me what I want to know. It’s a simple matter, really. Now, where are the Eyes?”
       “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know?” Another finger snapped and Cassian yelped again. Sweat was beading up on his forehead and trickling down his neck, mingling with the water they had sloshed over him. He closed his eyes and tried to push the pain away.
       “Cassian.” Hanlon waited until his captive opened his eyes again before continuing. “Where are the Eyes being kept?”
       Cassian clenched his jaw to keep himself from talking. The pain at the tender area of his left jaw helped distract him from the pain in his hand. Not for long, though, as his middle finger was snapped in two places. “ARGH! Shit, Hanlon!” Cassian exclaimed. “You know I can’t tell you, why are you doing this? Are you enjoying it?”
       “Believe it or not, no - I get no enjoyment out of this. I like you, Dan, which is why I’ve given you every opportunity to make it easier on yourself. I have every intention of sending you on your way once I have what I want. I don’t want you in pain and I don’t want you dead - what I want are the Eyes of Odin and you’re being very stubborn and very stupid about it, Dan. You probably have them locked away somewhere with no idea of their true value - they need to be studied. They need to be used. Where are they?”
       “I can’t tell you.” Snap! “ARGH!” His first finger now.
       “Where are they?”
       “I won’t tell you!” SNAP! “ARGH!” His thumb that time.
       “Where are they?!”
       “Fuck you, Hanlon!” This time, Harold took a steel pipe off the desk and slammed it down on Cassian’s hand. Several bones were crushed. He yelled and clenched his teeth to keep from yelling again. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain. When he could breathe properly again and could trust his voice not to waver, he said, “You’re running out of fingers, Hanlon. What then?”
       Hanlon sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You’re being particularly troublesome, Cassian. I honestly hadn’t expected you to hold out this long. But this isn’t working, so we’ll have to try something else. You may have noticed the tub of water your feet are resting in?”
       “Kind of hard to miss.” He was still breathing heavy with the pain. “Go ahead - let’s see how much I can take before I pass out.” He was too pissed off now to give them the satisfaction of talking - he would die before he would tell them anything. The human mountain not named Harold sloshed another bucket of water over his head and Cassian shook the wet hair from his eyes again and glared at Hanlon in defiance.
       Hanlon nodded to the unseen person behind Cassian and the pain suddenly ripped through his body. He yelped slightly at first, but the shock of it forced the breath from his lungs and all his muscles quickly tightened to the point where no sound was capable of escaping from his constricted throat and no air could enter. Every muscle in his body bulged and felt like it wanted to leap off his frame and be free. When it stopped, he slumped and gasped for air. His bladder emptied, but he was already soaking wet so it wasn’t noticeable. It had only been a brief moment, but Cassian felt like he’d been beaten with a baseball bat for hours.
       “I can burn the flesh from your bones, Cassian. You need never feel that pain again, though - all you have to do is tell me where you’ve hidden the Eyes and this will all be over.”
       Cassian couldn’t speak. All he could do was shake his head. The surge came again and this time, it lasted more than a mere moment. He felt like his head was going to explode and he smelled his own skin burning. When it stopped, he gratefully lost consciousness.
       Hanlon’s pager beeped. He glanced down at it and rose from his chair. “Leave him there for now - we’ll continue later,” he said as he swiftly left the room. The two human mountains exchanged glances and then folded their arms and spread their legs slightly into a relaxed posture, prepared to wait indefinitely. The shapely young woman behind them pushed her chair a little ways from the electric generator and pulled a compact from her purse to make sure her nose wasn’t shiny.
      
       Hanlon returned a short time later; his jaw set in determination. Margaret figured he’d gotten a call from the big boss. It made no difference to her - she had a job to do and she did it well. She didn’t have free reign on this mission; her job was to simply run the machine - whether or not the guy talked or died made no difference to her. She set her purse back down on the floor and brushed her long dark hair back with a slender hand.
       “Wake him,” Hanlon said curtly.
       Another bucket of cold water brought Cassian around with a groan. He didn’t shake the water off his head this time - he didn’t have the strength. He rested his chin against his chest, water dripping off the strings of his hair and the tip of his aquiline nose, and tried to find a way to breathe that didn’t hurt. He couldn’t. His head was roughly snapped back by his hair and he found himself looking up at his old friend Peter Hanlon. Cassian moaned and mumbled, “Christ, Hanlon, I can’t take any more.”
       “Then tell me where the Eyes are being kept,” Hanlon replied coldly.
       “I can’t. You know I can’t. Just kill me.”
       Hanlon shoved the man’s head back down, took a step back and barked to the woman to “Go!”
       The pain once again ripped through Cassian’s body. His scream echoed off the walls, his rigid body strained against the shackles. His vision exploded into a white hot ball of lightening and thin wisps of smoke floated up from the charred flesh of his chest and back. When it finally stopped, he sagged, moaned and drifted away.
       “Cassian?!” Hanlon said, yanking the man’s head back again. “His heart has stopped,” he told the woman.
       Margaret calmly tossed over a syringe filled with epinephrine and adrenaline. Hanlon took the cover off the syringe, made sure there were no air bubbles and drove the needle into Cassian’s chest. Stepping back, he snapped, “Go!” and Margaret switched the generator on and off, giving the man a quick electric jolt.
       Cassian’s body shuddered, but that was all.
       “Again!” Hanlon called. Margaret sent another jolt, the corners of her finely shaped lips turning upwards at the irony of trying to use the same power that killed the man in the first place in an effort to revive him.
       Cassian’s body shuddered again and his lungs took in a rasping, hollow breath. He coughed, sputtered, breathed with difficulty - his eyes were half-open and seemed dimly aware.
       “Your heart stopped, Dan,” Hanlon explained. “Do you understand? You can’t take much more. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know and it will all be over.” He held the man’s head so he could look into the tortured eyes.
       Cassian was wrapped in a mist. He couldn’t speak and his vision was blurred. He heard what Hanlon said, though and managed to mouth fuck you before he slipped away into darkness.
       “Son of a bitch!” Hanlon exclaimed as he shoved the man’s head away and stormed to his desk. He flopped into his chair and thought a moment. Finally, he waved his hand and said, “Get him out of here. Put him in Room 12 for now.” Then he swiveled his chair around, leaned back and gazed up at the portrait of Hitler.
      
       Harold and his brother Carl exchanged looks, shrugged and did as they were told. That was their mission in life - to do as they were told. Carl was happy with the arrangement, but Harold wanted more - he wanted to be the one doing the telling. When they undid the shackles, the limp form slid to the floor. They each took an arm and dragged Cassian out. Room 12 was often used as a gym - and for other things. When they got to the room, Carl wanted to lay the unconscious man on an exercise mat, but Harold snapped, “We weren’t told to make him comfortable, Carl! Just drop him.” Carl shrugged and did as he was told. Harold grinned with the satisfaction of being able to tell someone what to do.
      
       When the meat head twins had left with the body, Margaret sauntered across the room. She lounged on the desktop, her knees bent and her skirt slipping down to her waist. She wore no underpants. She reached out and lightly touched the back of Hanlon’s head with her fingertips. “You should let me handle this Dr. Cassian, dear,” she purred. “I could get him to talk.”
       “This is my problem, Margaret,” Hanlon said curtly.
       “You’re too soft, Peter.”
       Without looking, Hanlon lashed out and landed a fist to the side of Margaret’s head. She rolled with the punch and landed on her feet on the floor. With an evil grin, she wiped the blood from a cut over her eye and started unbuttoning her blouse.

       “Is that the place?” Marcase wanted to know. Dusk had settled hours before and he and Hailey were hiding in the bushes some ways from a nice looking mansion located in the middle of nowhere, Virginia.
       “Strange place for a mansion,” Hailey commented. “That’s the place.”
       Thus confirmed, Marcase started to rise, but Hailey gripped his arm and yanked him down harshly.
       “Just where the hell do you think you’re going?” Hailey demanded in a harsh whisper.
       “You just said Cassian is in there, so I’m going in after him.” He thought it was painfully obvious and he looked at Hailey as if the man was being obtuse.
       “There’s an army around this place - we can’t just waltz on in like a couple idiots. Backup is on the way. We wait.”
       “You can wait if you want, but I’m…”
       “What the hell is it with you, anyway? Since when have you given a damn about Daniel Cassian?”
       “Since we became lovers,” Marcase said simply and sincerely.
       Hailey’s jaw dropped. When he found his voice again, he said, “You and Cassian?”
       Marcase shrugged. “He’s great in bed, what can I say?”
       “But you two hate each other.”
       Marcase shrugged again. “There’s a fine line between love and hate.”
       “Damn.” Hailey shook his head in disbelief. “Does Shiroma know?”
       “I don’t know. Probably not, though. I haven’t told her and while we haven’t actually tried to keep it secret, we haven’t flaunted it either.”
       “Does he, uh … you know…. Have to be in control all the time?”
       Marcase grinned. “No - we practice equality in the bed room.”
       “You mean, you both…?”
       “Yeah, look, can we drop this line of questioning, as it’s really none of your business what we get up to in the privacy of our own bedrooms.”
       Hailey held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I was just curious, is all. Anyway, we had better wait till…”
       Hailey never finished his statement because the two men were interrupted by the barrels of several automatic rifles leveled at their heads.
       “Welcome, gentlemen,” one of the camouflage-wearing men said pleasantly. “Care to join the party inside?”
      
       Michael Hailey and Dr. Edward Marcase were unceremoniously shoved through a door before that door was slammed shut and locked securely. Hailey had kept his footing, but Marcase had hit a wall and fallen on his ass. He picked himself up and brushed himself off. “Any more great ideas?” he wanted to know.
       “This air duct looks promising,” Hailey replied as he examined the nearby vent. “Anyway, don’t blame me! You were the one distracting me with your story of…”
       Marcase had been checking out the room as Hailey was complaining and when he spotted the body on the floor some ways away, he said, “Cassian,” and rushed over to be sure.
       Hailey felt there was no need to finish his statement and crossed the room as well.
       Dr. Daniel Cassian was damp and naked save for his wet and dusty briefs - a red pair he had bought for him, Marcase noticed. He lay on his stomach, the left side of his face on the floor. There were three burn marks about the size of silver dollars in a line across his back.
       “Help me turn him over,” Marcase said, a tremor of emotion evident in his voice.
       Cassian let out a quiet moan when they turned him over. There were three more burns across his chest too. Marcase examined him quickly. “His left jaw is swollen - looks like maybe it had been dislocated. There are ligature marks at both wrists and ankles. Shit, his left hand has been smashed, and each finger broken. These burns are probably from electrical contact. Michael, they’ve tortured him. The bastards have tortured him!”
       “I know,” Hailey rested a sympathetic hand on the other man’s shoulder. “But what did they want and did they get it?”
       “Good question, Mr. Hailey.” Peter Hanlon walked into the room, followed by his two human mountains and an armed guard in camouflage. “I’d like to say Dr. Cassian gave it up, but fact is, he has proved far more stubborn than I expected. Perhaps one of you would be more forthcoming?”
       “What’re you going to do?” Marcase snapped angrily. “Torture us too?”
       “No, I don’t think that would work,” Hanlon said. “After my experience with Cassian here, I feel he and his team are made of sterner stuff. I don’t think your own pain will convince you, but I think perhaps your compassion may be your undoing.”
       Hailey frowned and crossed his arms. “Just what did you have in mind?” he asked.
       “What I want are the Eyes of Odin,” Hanlon said.
       Marcase groaned inwardly. The damned Eyes … The Nazis had made a device to hold the lenses they called The Eyes of Odin and Marcase had used it. Wearing the Eyes, he had been able to see energy fields around people. Most people had a bright energy field, but the Nazi bastards chasing him had projected a negative field. It had been black and seemed to suck in everything around it. The Eyes had helped him and Shiroma escape from pursuers. They had also made him feel euphoric and invincible. They were addictive. When he tried to use them again, they had bored into his head like lasers. The pain had been blinding - literally. Luckily, the blindness had been temporary. No one knew what kind of power the Eyes held or what the ancient peoples had used them for. Marcase wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
       “And before you try denying all knowledge of what I speak,” Hanlon continued. “Let me assure you, I’ve been through it all with Cassian and I know all about Herr Boem and the capsule and I know your team retained the Eyes. Cassian has been most stubborn about it, but one of you will tell me where to find them in order to save your friend here.”
       One of the goons tossed a bucket of water over Cassian, who sputtered awake and groaned loudly. The water had sloshed over Marcase too, who still knelt close by. He shook his head and slung his thick wet hair from his face.
       “What the hell is it with the water?” Cassian complained. “You trying to drown me?” He opened his pale grey eyes and gazed up at Dr. Edward Marcase. He grinned at the vision and reached up to touch his fantasy. He was a little surprised when the phantom Marcase took his hand - the touch felt real and solid. He must have been totally out of it - out of his mind from the pain. What if he told them what they wanted to know in this delirious state? Hell, he couldn’t even remember what they wanted to know. Still, it was nice seeing Marcase again, even if it wasn’t real. His gaze continued on to take in Michael Hailey. Cassian frowned. “That’s funny,” he said aloud. “I’ve never seen Hailey in my delirious fantasies before.”
       Hanlon laughed. “You’re not dreaming, Cassian, and your ordeal is not yet over.” He nodded to his too thugs, who shoved Marcase roughly aside and hauled Cassian to his feet.
       Cassian yelled in pain and Marcase made a move, but Hailey held him back - keeping an eye on the man with the automatic weapon.
       “What now, Hanlon?” Cassian said wearily. “More fingers? More electric shock treatments? Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with!” The human mountains clamped his wrists into shackles hanging from the ceiling. Cassian yelped in pain again when the metal cuff closed around his left wrist and pressure was applied to the ruined hand. “I’m not gonna tell you anything, Hanlon! Just kill me! Just kill me already!”
       “You bastards,” Marcase growled, straining against Hailey’s grip, visions of tearing the throat from the man Cassian called Hanlon flashing through his mind.
       Cassian suddenly realized Marcase and Hailey were really there - they’d been captured too. Hanlon was going to work on him until one of them gave up the Eyes to save him. He couldn’t let that happen. All this would have been for nothing if that happened. Christ, he would kill himself right now to prevent that from happening if he could! “Don’t tell him anything!” he exclaimed - the old force of authority back in his voice. “Don’t tell him anything, that’s an order! Understand, Edward? I order you to tell him nothing! NOTHING!”
       The mountain named Harold slipped brass knuckles over his hand and gave a quick jab to Cassian’s ribs. “ARGH!” Cassian cried as one of his ribs snapped.
       “BASTARDS!” Marcase exclaimed again, flailing against Hailey’s grip. It was all the other man could do to hold him. “I’ll rip your heart out and make you eat it!” the young man swore.
       “My, my, such an emotional outburst,” Hanlon said.
       “SAY NOTHING!” Cassian commanded. Another blow broke another rib and drove it into his left lung. Cassian yelled and coughed up blood, a pink froth forming at his lips. His breath came in rasping pain filled gasps. He hung his head back, his limp, wet hair hanging down his back. If he could just die, the incentive to talk would be gone. He brought his head back forward and looked into Harold’s emotionless eyes. “That the best you got?” he taunted in a guttural voice. Another blow landed, but Cassian was beyond yelling now and could only muster a grunt. “My gramma can hit harder than that.” Another blow and another grunt. Why couldn’t he just die? “What’s that? A love pat?”
       Marcase and Hanlon both realized what Cassian was doing at the same time.
       “NO, STOP!” Marcase called.
       Hanlon took a pistol from the guard’s belt and calmly shot Cassian in the left thigh. Harold took a step back as the bullet had come pretty damned close to hitting him. Cassian yelped in surprise, looked down at the hole in his leg, muttered “Damn,” and then passed out. Marcase broke free of Hailey’s grasp and lunged for Hanlon, who took a calm step sideways so the guard could strike the charging man with the butt of his rifle. Marcase went down hard and the two goons stepped towards Hailey who held his hands up and shook his head to indicate that he didn’t want any trouble.
       “I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Marcase muttered from the floor. He was leaning on one elbow and rubbing the back of his head with his other hand. “Just get him to a doctor.”
       “What the hell are you doing, Marcase?” Hailey wanted to know.
       “Don’t hurt him any more. Get Cassian to a doctor and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
       “Shut up, Marcase,” Hailey said as he walked towards the man on the floor. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The two goons grabbed him, but not before he landed a solid kick to the other man’s shoulder, throwing him back against the guard’s legs. “Shut up, Marcase!” he yelled as the goons dragged him back. “Keep your mouth SHUT!”
       “I can’t let them kill him!” Marcase sobbed. “I couldn’t stand it if he died. Don’t you understand? It’s not worth it - nothing is worth it.”
       “Admirable sentiment, Dr. Marcase,” Hanlon said as he offered his hand to help Marcase up.
       Marcase took the offered hand. “I can take you to Cassian’s apartment,” he said. “You’ll find what you want there.”
       “SHUT UP, MARCASE!” Hailey was struggling for all he was worth to break free from the goons, but they were holding tight.
       “The Eyes are there?” Hanlon asked earnestly.
       “No,” Marcase said. “But Dan - that is, Dr. Cassian, has a lap top computer - all his files are kept on it - it’s bound to have a memo or something listing where the Eyes were stored.”
       “Marcase!” Hailey was spitting mad. “I’ll gut you like a rabbit, you treacherous son of a bitch.”
       Marcase glanced over at the man, hoping those goons were strong enough to hold him. “I’m sorry, Hailey - I had hoped you would understand.”
       “It’ll be encrypted,” Hanlon mused, running a hand thoughtfully down his chin.
       “I think I can figure out his password.”
       “Why would you think you know him that well?”
       Marcase swallowed and reluctantly admitted, “We’re lovers. We’ve been lovers for over a year, you have to get him to a doctor - let me work on him - I can save him - you can’t let him die!”
       The boy was practically begging. How marvelous! Hanlon smiled. “I didn’t know the old boy had it in him.”
       “You no good weaselly little faggot!” Hailey was ranting. “I’ll slice you up into little pieces and feed you to my dogs!”
       “Let me stop the bleeding, at least,” Marcase pleaded.
       Hanlon gestured to the guard who then banged once on the door and yelled, “Open!” Another guard outside unlocked and opened the door. “My doctor here will tend to him - you show me this computer.” He gestured towards the door and said, “After you, Doctor.”
       Marcase looked lost. “You swear he’ll be taken care of?”
       “Of course! You have my word.”
       Seeing he had no choice now, Marcase walked out the door.
       Before following, Hanlon leaned close to the guard and, motioning with his eyes to Hailey and Cassian, said, “Leave them here for now, I may have use for them later.”
       Once Hanlon and Marcase were clear, the two goons released Hailey and stepped back from him, ready to pounce should he prove a threat. All the fight was gone from him now, however, and he just slumped to the floor hopeless.
       After the goons had left, the guard backed to the door, keeping his gun trained on Hailey. “You might as well make yourself comfortable - you’ll be here for a while.” Then he nodded his farewell, backed out and slammed and locked the door again.

       The drive to Georgetown was made in silence. Marcase hoped Hailey had understood what he was trying to do. The man had certainly seemed convincingly livid - the veins at his neck had even bulged with hatred and the “no good weaselly little faggot” dig had really hurt. Taking them to Cassian’s apartment was the only thing he could think of. Central Lab would have been a better choice, but Dr. Shiroma was most likely still there slaving away on that sample and he didn’t want to endanger her too.
       It was the middle of the night and the four of them - Hanlon, Marcase and the two goons - went unnoticed as they approached the door of the brownstone apartment.
       “And can we break in without drawing attention?” Hanlon said quietly.
       “No need,” Marcase replied. “I have a key.” Hanlon smiled knowingly as Marcase coloured slightly. The best lies were always cloaked in truth, he thought as he unlocked the door and led them into his lover’s apartment.
       He didn’t bother to turn on the lights. “The computer is in the bedroom, back here,” he said and walked easily through to the bedroom. He really did know this apartment as well as his own and that only served to convince Hanlon of the truth of the situation.
       Hanlon found the light switch. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he said. “I would hate to have to kill you.”
       “Dan doesn’t keep a weapon,” Marcase said. “And I wouldn’t know how to use it if he did.” He sat on the bed with the laptop and powered it up. “Let’s see what we can find.”
      
      
       As soon as the door closed, Hailey was on his feet again. Cassian obviously had a punctured lung, but the other one was working okay and hanging upright the way he was, he wouldn’t drown in his blood any time soon. The leg wound wasn’t too bad - it had gone straight through without hitting bone or artery, but was still bleeding pretty badly all the same. Hailey took off his belt and tightened it around Cassian’s leg into a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. He looked at his watch. His men should be there any moment. With the sound of gunfire from outside, he smiled.
       Hailey heard the door lock turn and got ready. The guard started to enter gun first. Big mistake. Hailey grabbed the gun and yanked the guard in, spun him around in front of him and placed his finger over the guard’s finger on the trigger. He fired at the other two guards as they fired at him and all three guards fell down dead, leaving Hailey with a small scratch on his left arm and three automatic rifles. He stayed and guarded Cassian until his men found their way to him.
       Barking orders, he got Cassian squared away with a medic and on his way to a hospital. A squad of five men was going with him and the rest were left behind to mop up the operation at the mansion. Now, he had to make it to Cassian’s apartment before Marcase’s bluff ran dry.
      
       “If you’re bullshitting, I’ll skin you alive, Marcase.” The sun was rising and Hanlon was getting impatient.
       “Okay, I’ve got the password - I’m in,” Marcase said nervously.
       “What was it?”
       “Ummmmm,” Marcase hesitated.
       “Well? What was the password?” Hanlon demanded.
       Marcase coloured again and answered, “It was the, uh, date of the first time he and I … Well … you know…”
       Hanlon grinned and shook his head. “Man, he must have it bad for you, kid.” He sat down next to Marcase on the bed and watched the screen with him.
       Marcase didn’t like being so close to the rat bastard, but there was nothing he could do but continue with the ruse and hope Hailey got there soon.
       “What’s that?” Hanlon pointed to a likely file.
       “No, that’s a game,” Marcase said. “I’m kind of surprised he has so many games on here - I’ve never seen him play any of them.”
       “Maybe he has other games in mind whenever you’re around, huh?” Hanlon smiled knowingly again and the two goons snickered.
       Marcase blushed again, but didn’t comment. A loud knock at the door scared Marcase out of his wits and he almost fumbled the computer.
       The two goons pulled guns and Hanlon leapt to his feet. “Who’s that?” he demanded to know in a harsh whisper
       “I don’t know,” Marcase whispered back. “Wh - what day is this?”
       “Wednesday, why?”
       “Wednesday,” Marcase repeated. “It’s the cleaning woman. Dan has a cleaning woman come in every Wednesday.”
       “Wouldn’t she have a key?”
       “Yeah, but I dead bolted the door - she knows there’s someone here, let me go get rid of her. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s found me here.”
       Hanlon didn’t grin this time. “All right,” he said. “But don’t try anything stupid.”
       Marcase went to the door. “Just a minute, Marcella!” he called. He glanced back at the two gun barrels aimed at him from the bedroom and then opened the door. One of the goons must have gotten trigger happy or else he was able to see who was there before Hailey entered, because the door hadn’t even opened all the way when the first shot rang out. It sounded like an explosion to Marcase. A force, like a powerful kick, hit his back and propelled him forward. Hailey shoved him aside as he and his men came in shooting, but Marcase didn’t hear any of that. He found himself standing with his back against the wall by the door. He glanced down at his chest and discovered a red stain blossoming across the front of his shirt. He wondered about that for a moment. It was beautiful, but what was it doing there? Everything moved in slow motion. He looked up to see the two goons fall gracefully. Hanlon was waving his arms from behind the bed. Hailey was looking his way and seemed to be saying something, but Marcase couldn’t hear it. All at once, the pain hit him, driving the air from his lungs. His eyes grew wide as he gasped for breath. Slowly, he slumped to the floor unconscious, leaving a bright red stain down the wall behind him.

       Marcase stumbled into him when the door opened, but Hailey didn’t have time to investigate why. He shoved the young man out of the way and charged in with his men. The two goons went down quickly and Hanlon whimpered his surrender from behind the bed. It all seemed too easy. Smiling, Hailey turned his attention to Marcase, only to find the doctor stunned by the door. The growing red stain on the man’s shirtfront explained why he had stumbled into him when the door opened.
       “Marcase, you’re hit!” he said as he approached, only to watch the man crumple to the floor. “Damn!” he muttered, when he reached the other man’s side. He checked for a pulse and found it, but only barely. His skin was cold and clammy - the doctor was in shock. Hailey got on his radio and called for an ambulance. “Hang on, doc,” he said. “Don’t die on me now, dammit.”
      
       Cassian and Marcase arrived at the hospital at about the same time. Hailey rode in with Marcase and found Dr. Shiroma and Shannon Cassian waiting there. He was a little surprised to see Cassian’s ex-wife, but supposed she was still listed as the man’s next-of-kin.
       “How are they?” Shannon asked.
       Hailey shrugged. “I don’t know - touch and go.”
       “I’ll see what I can do,” Shiroma said as she went off with the medical staff.
       Hailey and Shannon stood awkwardly in silence for a moment. “May as well go sit and have some coffee,” Shannon finally said.
      
       They sat awkwardly in silence with their coffee for a while too. Hailey didn’t know how much Shannon knew and wasn’t sure how much he should tell her.
       “Sitting in a hospital waiting room drinking lousy vending machine coffee is not how I planned to spend my morning,” Shannon said, breaking the silence once again.
       “No, well, me either,” Hailey agreed. Setting down his cup, he added, “And this really is lousy coffee too.”
       Shannon grinned. “Yeah.” She set her cup down too.
       Hailey had always thought Shannon an attractive woman - especially when she smiled. Her short blond hair and bright blue eyes always seemed to lighten his mood. He had often wondered why Cassian had let her get away. “I suppose the Department called you?” he asked.
       “Yes. I must still be listed as the one to call in case of emergency.”
       “How much did they tell you?”
       “Not much. They didn’t seem to know much. Just that he’d been missing and was now on his way to this hospital.”
       Hailey nodded and interlaced his fingers together.
       “He didn’t look very well,” Shannon added. “Neither of them did.”
       “It was a bit of an ordeal,” Hailey agreed.
       “That other man was Dr. Marcase, wasn’t it?”
       “That’s right. He got caught in the middle of a fire fight.”
       “They’re doctors, for Christ sakes, what are they doing in the middle of gun fire?”
       “The medical aspects are only part of the job. There are also political considerations. This particular incident was instigated by a Neo Nazi group.”
       “Neo Nazis?” Shannon shook her head and actually took a swig of the bad coffee. “Was Dan shot as well?”
       “Yes, but not badly.”
       “Not badly?” She snorted derisively. “Can someone be shot well?”
       Hailey sighed. “I’m afraid the worst of it is ……… he was tortured.”
       Shannon gasped. “What do you mean, tortured?”
       Hailey spread his hands. “I’d rather not distress you with the particulars, but they had him for two days and I’m not sure what all they may have done to him. It was pretty bad, though.”
       “Those marks I saw on his chest?”
       He didn’t want to tell her, but he brought it up. She had asked a direct question and deserved a direct answer. “Electrical burns,” he said simply.
       “Dear God.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “This kind of thing was one of the reasons I left him. I couldn’t stand not knowing what new disaster he’d encounter, how long he’d be gone and what shape he’d be in when he came home - or if he’d come home at all.”
       Hailey didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
       Dr. Kimberly Shiroma showed up to break the silence. “They’re both still in surgery,” she said. “Edward lost a lot of blood, but he’ll be okay.”
       “And Dan?” Shannon asked as she sat back up and leaned her elbows on her knees.
       “His lung has been re-inflated and his other injuries are not life threatening, but it’s going to take a good long time in surgery to try to repair that hand.”
       “His hand?” Shannon frowned.
       “His left hand. Each finger was broken and the hand crushed.”
       “Oh, dear God.” Shannon grew pale and slumped back in her seat.
       Shiroma realized what she’d been saying and who she’d been saying it to. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Cassian.” She sat and put her arm around the other woman. “I’m just so used to speaking clinically. He’ll be all right, though.” She glanced over at Hailey, who shrugged sympathetically. Mentally chastising herself, she patted the other woman on the back.

       A couple days later, Shannon Cassian was told her (ex) husband had been awake for a while that day and so she stopped by the hospital after she got off work. She found Dr. Marcase in the room and decided to stand outside rather than intrude.
       Marcase was in pajamas and robe with an IV stand in tow. He sat holding Cassian’s hand in one of his own and ran the fingers of his other hand through the dark blond hair of the sleeping man. It was a tender gesture that brought some things into clear perspective for Shannon. Mr. Hailey had told her how Dr. Marcase had risked his own life to save Cassian and now she understood why. She would have expected to feel appalled by the thought, but instead she found herself feeling pleased that Dan had finally found someone. She walked into the room as if she had just arrived.
       “Dr. Marcase,” she said. “I’m glad to find you up and around. How are you feeling?”
       Marcase rose slowly and gently shook her hand. “Mrs. Cassian, isn’t it?” he said.
       “Oh, please, call me Shannon,” she said with a grin. Marcase was a damned good looking man - it was obvious what Dan saw in him.
       “Shannon, then,” he grinned back. “I’m okay so long as I don’t make any sudden movements.”
       “I was told he had regained consciousness earlier today,” she said, looking towards her ex-husband on the bed. He looked pale, but peaceful.
       “I heard that too, but he seems to be sleeping now.”
       “They say he’ll be all right.”
       “Oh, sure, he’s a survivor.”
       “Yeah,” she chuckled. “I guess that’s true enough.”
       “Well, I’ll let you have some time alone with him, Shannon. Nice meeting you.”
       “Yes, same here, Doctor.”
       “Oh, call me Edward, by all means.”
       They both grinned and shook hands again and then the young man was gone. She liked him.
       Cassian muttered Edward’s name in his sleep. Shannon sat and wondered what he was dreaming. Then she imagined and couldn’t help but blush.
       He awoke and turned his ice blue eyes towards her. He grinned sleepily and said, “Shannon, you look good.”
       “Do I?” she replied. “Well, you don’t. You look like Hell.”
       “Oh, thank you.” He rolled his eyes. “I do try.”
       “How do you get yourself into these things?”
       “It’s a talent I have.” He waved his left hand in a dismissive manner and then seemed to notice the cast for the first time. He frowned at it as if he couldn’t imagine why it was there.
       “Dr. Marcase was just here.”
       “Was he?” His eyes brightened as he looked back towards her. “How did he look?”
       “Quite handsome, actually.”
       “Oh, really?” He arched his eyebrows. “Got your eye on him, have you?”
       “Wouldn’t do any good if I did - he’s in love with you, you know.”
       Cassian feigned shock. “You don’t say.”
       “You muttered his name in your sleep.”
       “Did I now?” He grinned and gazed inwardly. “It was a particularly interesting dream.”
       “I’m sure it was.” She blushed again. “You should hang onto that one.”
       “I tried to hang onto you, but that didn’t work either.”
       She took his hand. “Just keep it real, Dan, and don’t be afraid to give of yourself.”
       Cassian changed the subject. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this, honey. I suppose you’re still listed as my next of kin. I should have changed that, but I didn’t really have anyone to change it to.”
       “Don’t worry about it.” She waved his concerns away. “It’s been just like old times.”
       He chuckled, but that hurt and he winced. “Don’t make me laugh,” he said.
       “Sorry,” she grinned.
       “Is Renee in school?”
       “Yes. She knows you can’t be with her this weekend and that you’re in the hospital, but I haven’t exactly told her why. I’ll bring her in to visit you when you’re feeling up to it.”
       “Best to wait till I look a little more alive than dead.”
      
       When Marcase left Cassian’s room, he ran into Mr. Hailey and Dr. Shiroma. “We thought we might find you here,” Shiroma said. “Should you be out of bed?”
       “I’m okay, thanks to Hailey here. I’m glad you figured out my plan - you had me worried there.”
       “I know the only thing Cassian keeps on that laptop is games.”
       “Yeah, that kind of surprised me, actually - I’ve never seen him play computer games.”
       “Maybe he has other games in mind when you’re around,” Hailey winked.
       Marcase rolled his eyes and sat down in the waiting area. “That’s what Hanlon said too.”
       Hailey and Shiroma sat down too. “Is it true about you and Cassian?” Shiroma wanted to know.
       “Yeah, look, let’s not make a big deal about it, okay? My private life is just that.”
       “You could have been killed, Edward,” Shiroma admonished.
       “Yeah, well, that wasn’t my intention. I’m not sure why that guy fired before I even had the door open.”
       Hailey shrugged. “Don’t know, but they went down easy enough afterwards, and Hanlon whimpered like a little girl when he surrendered.”
       “Has he started naming names yet?”
       “No, actually. He’s being troublesome.”
       “Yeah, hey, that kick really hurt, by the way.” He rubbed his shoulder where Hailey had kicked him.
       “Had to make it believable, didn’t I?”
       “And the ‘no good weaselly faggot’ remark?”
       Hailey shrugged. “That was just something that popped into my head…”
       “Uh-huh.” Marcase shook his head and then turned to Shiroma. “So, what’s the verdict on my wound, Doctor?”
       “You were lucky - that bullet went pretty damned close to your heart.”
       “Lucky, huh?”
       “Yeah,” she grinned. “Lucky your heart is in the wrong place.”
       “Oh, thanks.” Marcase rolled his eyes and grinned. Turning serious again, he asked, “And Cassian?”
       “Physically, he’ll be okay,” Shiroma answered. “There’s some question as to whether or not he’ll regain full mobility of his left hand, but other than that…”
       Marcase nodded. “So, when can I get out of here and start work on analyzing those damned Eyes of Odin?”
       Hailey and Shiroma groaned in unison.
      
       Shannon Cassian emerged with a grin. Gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder towards the door to Cassian’s room, she said, “He’s awake now and in fine form.” She walked away shaking her head.
       “Wonder what he said to her?” Shiroma pondered.
       Marcase grinned and shook his head as he headed back into the room. “Half dead and still able to make the ladies smile,” he said.
       “What did I say?” Cassian asked with a shrug.
       “Don’t ask me,” Marcase answered.
       “So, what brings the three of you here?”
       “You,” Hailey said.
       “Yeah, how are you feeling?” Shiroma asked.
       “I’ve been better.”
       “Before we discuss anything else, I have to ask,” Shiroma said. “What were we supposed to do with that sample you left at the lab?”
       “Oh, did you analyze it?”
       “Sure. Mostly caffeine, laced with some sort of synthetic hormone.”
       “What’s the nature of the hormone?”
       “Well, it would seem to react with aggression sectors of the brain. I suppose if someone took enough of it, he could become violent.”
       “Great, fax all your findings to a … ummm … Dr. Richard Alden in Chicago. An outbreak of violence at a college campus around midterm exam time.”
       “Tainted caffeine pills?” Hailey said.
       “Students need to stay up nights studying, pop caffeine pills and end up killing each other,” Marcase commented. “Niiiiiiiiiiiiice.”
       “Alden’s number should be in my Rolodex, Dr. Shiroma.”
       “Right, I’ll get right on it.”
       “Now,” Marcase said. “You look like shit.”
       “You don’t look a whole hell of a lot better, Marcase.”
       “I got shot.”
       “So I heard. Gonna leave a nice scar, is it?”
       “Oh, sure - two nice little round scars - one on each side.”
       “Chicks love scars,” Hailey explained.
       “Right,” Marcase said. “I’ll be a chick magnet.”
       Cassian tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. “Oh, don’t make me laugh - it hurts too much.”
       “Sorry,” Marcase apologized. “I’m too damned charming for my own good.”
       “Heh, shit, I told you not to make me laugh.”
       “Okay,” Shiroma said, pushing Marcase out. “Time for us to leave.”
       “I’ll be right out,” Hailey said.
       “Don’t make him laugh,” Shiroma grinned.
       Hailey shut the door and turned back to his boss. “So, how’d you handle it?” he asked.
       “Great - smart ass to the end.”
       “You were trying to get yourself killed.”
       “Well, yeah, but that was only because I thought Marcase would give it up to save me.”
       “He did something really stupid that saved your ass, but he didn’t give it up.”
       “I know.”

       The doctors - and especially Dr. Shiroma - were reluctant to release Marcase right away, so he settled for his own laptop and an Internet connection. He did some on-line research and was able to find out quite a bit about the mysterious Eyes of Odin. When they were found, they had been part of a mask, which was now in the possession of a museum in Germany. There was a photo of it. It was supposedly made of gold, but looked a little dull and wasn’t very ornate and no one seemed to think it a very good representation of the workmanship of the time. Without the Eyes, it was worthless. He had an idea. An answer to his e-mail arrived on the same day he was released from the hospital.
      He called Hailey and Shiroma and asked them to meet him in Cassian’s room. A bright-eyed little girl with a long blond ponytail was just leaving when Marcase arrived.
       “Bye, Daddy,” She said before turning and almost walking into him.
       “Whoa,” Marcase said. “You must be Renee.” He had seen photos of the girl and knew it was.
       “Are you another one of Daddy’s friends?”
       “This is Edward, honey,” Cassian introduced from his bed. “A very good friend of Daddy’s.”
       “Hi, Edward.” She smiled up at him. “Gotta go now. Bye, Edward.” She turned back towards Cassian again and said, “Bye, Daddy; bye everyone!” and then she trotted off to find her mother.
       Hailey and Shiroma were already there, so once the girl was gone, Cassian asked, “Okay, we’re all here, so what is this all about?” The swelling at his jaw had gone down, but there was still a huge bruise covering the entire left side of his face.
       “Haven’t you wondered what those ancient people used the Eyes for?” Marcase said with enthusiasm.
       “When you used them, you could see energy fields,” Shiroma reminded him.
       “But what good is that? To tell who their enemies were? There must have been easier ways for that. And what good was it anyway, if it rendered the user blind?”
       “So, maybe there was something wrong with the device the Nazis had made,” Cassian offered.
       “Exactly!” Marcase exclaimed in triumph. “Which is why I’ve tracked down the original mask.”
       They all looked at him expectantly. His beaming smile slowly turned to a frown. “What? No, ‘job well done, Marcase’?” he asked.
       “Job well done, Marcase!” Hailey exclaimed as he patted the man on the back.
       Marcase shrugged the hand off. “Yeah, yeah, too late now.”
       “So, where is it and how much do you need to get it?” Cassian wanted to know.
       “It’s in a little museum in Munich - locked away in a deep, dark vault because everyone seems to think it’s worthless. They’ll let us have it for $20,000.”
       “Oh, is that all?” Shiroma said sarcastically.
       “No, we can do that,” Cassian said, clearly interested now. He painfully sat up a little in his bed.
       Shiroma frowned at her boss’s wince of pain and went to his side. “You shouldn’t try to move, Cassian.”
       “How can I move if I don’t move?” he wanted to know. He didn’t get an answer but he hadn’t expected one. “Leave all the information with me, Edward, I’ll get that mask here within a week.”
      
      
       Several days later, Cassian had become such a difficult patient that the hospital staff practically tossed him out the front door. Marcase was there to drive him home.
       “So,” he said to his boss. “If I had known all I had to do was be a pain in the ass, I could have gotten out of there a week ago.”
       “Hey, I was just being myself.”
       “Heh, yeah - a pain in the ass!”
       With a sly grin, Cassian replied, “That’s not what you said last time we took a shower together.”
       Marcase blushed furiously.
       “You know, you amaze me,“ Cassian said.
       “Me? Why?”
       “Edward Marcase, world class virologist - can look a deadly bacteria in the eye and never flinch - yet, it’s so damned easy to make you blush.”
       “I’m a sensitive guy, what can I say?”
      
       When they arrived at Cassian’s apartment in Georgetown, Marcase helped him in. Cassian’s left leg was still stiff, but he couldn’t hold a cane with his left hand, which was fully encased in a hard cast. His ribs were still tender and it still hurt to breathe, but the doctors were satisfied he was no longer in danger of developing pneumonia. Besides, as a doctor himself, they figured he could recognize the signs and none of the nursing staff wanted to deal with him anymore. Marcase eased him down on the sofa.
       “Thanks, Edward,” Cassian sighed as he leaned back against the cushions and shut his eyes.
       Marcase turned on some mood music and started taking off Cassian’s shoes and socks.
       Cassian opened his eyes and glanced down. “What’s this?” His gaze swept the room and settled on the brown stain on the wall by the door. The blood drained from his face as he asked, “What the hell is that?”
       Marcase turned and said, “Oh, jeez, I guess no one bothered to clean up the place. Sorry, Dan.”
       “Is that…. your blood?”
       “Yeah, guess it is.”
       “My God.”
       Marcase tossed the socks aside and started unbuttoning Cassian’s shirt. “I’ll clean it up later - it’ll be good as new, you’ll see.”
       Cassian gently ran his fingertips down the side of the other man’s face. “But will you be?”
       Marcase grinned. “Sure! Better - I’ll be a chick magnet.”
       Cassian grinned and shook his head. He winced in pain as his shirt was eased off.
       His ribs were tightly bound, but there were deep, dark bruises visible above and below the bandages at his left side. Marcase gently ran his fingers over them. “Damn,” he mumbled. He sat down at the end of the sofa, placed a small cushion on his lap and pulled Cassian down.
       “What’s this?” the older man asked again.
       “You need to rest.”
       “That’s all I’ve been doing is resting,” Cassian protested, but he didn’t resist. He stretched himself out on the sofa with a soft moan.
       Marcase sat silently running his fingers over the other man’s forehead and through his hair.
       Cassian relaxed and said, “Hmmmm, that feels good.”
       “For a while there, I was afraid I’d never hold you again.”
       “Oh, I pretty much figured it was all over - I never expected to live through it.”
       The pale blue eyes were closed and Cassian’s lanky body was perfectly relaxed now, so Marcase continued to pet his forehead, but he had to ask. One fear had been nagging at him and he had to know. “They…” he began. “They didn’t … rape you, did they?”
       “No,” Cassian answered matter-of-factly without opening his eyes. “Hanlon wasn’t interested in humiliating me - just getting me to talk.”
       Marcase felt the tension drain from his own body. He hadn’t realized just how worried he had been about this until the worry was gone. He sighed happily as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes too.
       “Do you happen to know if anyone recovered my clothes?” Cassian asked.
       “No, but I’ll ask Hailey - he should know. Expensive suit, was it?”
       “Nah, but I really like that coat.”
       “The black one?”
       “No, no, the tan trench coat.”
       “Oh, the one that makes you look like a spy.”
       Cassian chuckled and then groaned.
       “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you laugh.”
       “That’s okay.”
       The older man shifted more comfortably into his lap and Marcase continued to play with his hair. “How do you manage to stay so damned cool all the time?”
       “Cool? Me? I was scared shitless, Edward.”
       “You didn’t show it.”
       “That’s because Hanlon pissed me off.”
       “Yeah, what’s the story with this guy Hanlon? I got the impression you’d met him before.”
       “An old friend.”
       “Man…” Marcase opened his eyes and looked down at his lover. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Cassian so relaxed.
       “I know, I used to have a really bad instinct for friends.”
       They both knew what the other was thinking about - it was another old friend of Cassian’s who had deliberately infected him with the deadly Mayan Bacteria. Rydell had been Cassian’s best friend, but had turned out to be the head of a fanatic group of people who wanted to extinguish all life on Earth. Cassian had infected Rydell in return and now it was unsure if the man still lived or not.
       “You don’t like to give too much of yourself, do you?”
       “No, but can you blame me?”
       Marcase smiled. “No, guess not.” He leaned his head back and shut his eyes again. By the time he heard a knock at the door, Cassian’s breathing had grown steady and even - the man was asleep. Without raising his voice, Marcase said, “Come in” and hoped the visitors (he knew who it would be) would hear.
       The door opened and Michael Hailey and Kimberly Shiroma poked their heads in. “Are we interrupting?” Hailey asked.
       “We thought you might be here,” Shiroma said as Marcase waved them in and shushed them to be quiet. They both carried gifts.
       “How is he?” Hailey whispered.
       “He’s sleeping.”
       “He looks so…” Shiroma began, but wasn’t sure what word she was searching for.
       “Vulnerable, I know,” Marcase finished for her. “Cute, ain’t he?”
       What a strange situation, Shiroma thought, but Edward’s boyish grin was infectious and she couldn’t help but smile back.
       “Shit,” Hailey suddenly said. “That blood stain wasn’t cleaned up?”
       “No,” Marcase answered with a frown. “Go check the bedroom.”
       As Hailey went to check the bedroom, Shiroma glanced over at the wall. She paled with a hand to her mouth. “Is that your blood, Edward?” She asked.
       “Yeah, and Cassian grew pale just like that when he saw it too.”
       Hailey returned and nodded. “Still a mess,” he confirmed. “I thought I had ordered the place cleaned up.”
       “Maybe we had better clean it up now,” Shiroma said.
       “Yeah, I think so, too,” Marcase agreed. “He’s been through enough without having to sleep in a room like that.” He gently lifted the sleeping man’s head, slid himself out from under and eased Cassian’s head down onto the sofa cushion.
       “You don’t need to be doing any cleaning, Edward,” Shiroma said. “Why don’t you go make some tea and Hailey and I will take care of it.”
       “I can clean up my own mess, thank you,” Marcase replied with mock indignation.
       Shiroma made a face. “I don’t think I would want to clean up my own blood.”
       “Yeah, me either, man,” Hailey added. “You’re weird.”
       Marcase grinned and shook his head, but after scrubbing for a while, he had to admit, it was kind of creepy.
      
       Once the cleaning was done, the three of them sat back down for a cup of tea. Marcase carefully lifted Cassian’s head and eased himself back onto the sofa. Cassian moaned quietly as he shifted position and snuggled deeper into his lover’s lap. As the team sipped their tea, Marcase absently ran the fingers of one hand along the sleeping man’s chest. After a while, Hailey noticed the bulge growing at his boss’ crotch.
       Setting his mug down, Hailey said, “Well, guess it’s time we were going, Dr. Shiroma.”
       “But I’m not done with my tea, yet,” Shiroma protested. Following the motion Hailey made with his eyes, she spotted the situation too and coloured slightly as she suddenly agreed. “Oh, right,” she said, looking at her watch. “Look at the time! We’d better be going, Edward.” She gave him a small peck on the cheek before the two visitors hurried away.
       Marcase wondered what that was all about, but then he noticed, and he coloured slightly too. Shaking his head with an embarrassed grin, he ran his hand down Cassian’s chest and under the waistband of his trousers. Hmm, just like old times, he thought. He unfastened the belt and trousers and released the fine erection.
       Cassian groaned and lazily opened his eyes. He felt relaxed and aroused. Gazing up into deep brown eyes, he recognized the sparkle of lust. “Edward,” he purred. “Are you taking advantage of my weakened state?”
       “Of course,” Marcase answered. “Isn’t that the way this works?”
       The young man was fondling him and Cassian arched his back gently into the massaging hand. He groaned again - partly in pain and partly in pleasure. “Hmm, your lap is becoming … lumpy,” he said.
       “Is it, now?” Marcase eased himself off the sofa again. He slowly unbuttoned and pulled off his shirt. He stepped on the heel of one shoe, stepping out of it, and then the other. Then he slowly tugged off his socks. He undid the button of his jeans. With a mischievous grin, he lowered and raised the zipper several times before removing his jeans.
       Cassian grinned at the striptease and tried to ignore the bandage on the younger man’s chest. He knew there would be another just like it on his back.
       Marcase tugged off Cassian’s trousers and briefs and then climbed up between his legs. “You seem to be a little stiff, Dan,” he said.
       “So do you, Ed.”
       Marcase glanced down and shifted his briefs to release his own erection. “You’re right. I’ll just have to do something about this.” He ran his hands down the inside of the other man’s thighs as he leaned low to kiss him.
      Cassian reached up with his right hand, snaked his fingers through the dark curls at the other man’s neck and pulled - his mouth hungrily searching. Searching for what, he wasn’t sure - just what did he want form this young man? At the moment, all he wanted was this: the closeness and … “Fuck me, Edward,” he said quietly, his voice deep and gruff.
       Marcase swallowed the words and chuckled as they went down. “Sure you’re up to it?” he asked.
       “I don’t care, I just want you inside me.” The young man sat up and Cassian let his hand trail down through the hair on his chest. “I dreamed of you, you know,” he said. “To keep my mind off things. Just like this - only without the bandage on your chest.” He gently ran a finger over the bandage, a haunted look in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Edward.”
       “Not your fault, Dan,” Marcase assured him, as he removed his briefs and applied the lubricant they handily kept tucked away in the drawer of the end table nearby.
       Whatever Cassian thought to say in reply to that was lost in a groan as Marcase entered him. He shut his eyes and leaned back into the cushions. His left leg was bent at the knee and rested against the back of the sofa. Marcase inadvertently leaned against the bullet wound in his thigh every time he thrust, but he didn’t want it to stop, so he endured the pain stoically.
       With every shift of his hips, Marcase stifled a groan as the pain spiked through his chest and across his back. The ripples of pleasure radiating through him as he thrust inside this exquisite creature and the relief he felt that his enigmatic boss still wanted him, far outweighed any pain he was experiencing. He expertly manipulated the other man’s member with the ease of familiarity so that they were both at the edge in unison.
       A moan of release escaped from both their throats as orgasm overtook them. Exhausted, Marcase collapsed across Cassian’s stomach and rested his head under the other man’s right arm.
      When they could speak again, Cassian said, “That hurt like hell.”
       “Yeah,” Marcase agreed.
       “It was worth it.”
       “Yeah.”
       They both grinned as they snuggled, the one man still resting inside the other. Cassian gripped dark curls and sighed contentedly as the throbbing pain eased away into the flush of love-making.
       “Dan?” Marcase said quietly.
       “Hmmm?”
       “If I were to be captured, would you give up the Eyes for me?”
       Cassian sighed heavily before answering. “A month ago, I would have said no way, but after all this… Knowing first hand what they would do to you… I really don’t know for sure, Edward. I hope I never have to find out.”
       “Me too.”

       Edward Marcase and Kimberly Shiroma were in the lab. They had done every test they could think of, but still knew nothing about the mysterious Eyes of Odin. Shiroma held one of the red gems up to the light and admired it’s beauty. Marcase absently twirled a pencil through his fingers. He had seemed a bit distracted lately.
       Michael Hailey walked in and tossed his jacket onto a chair. “Any word from Cassian yet?” he asked.
       Hailey and Shiroma both looked expectantly towards Marcase. “What?” he said. “I’m not his keeper!”
       The other two exchanged glances and discretely looked the other way.
       Moments later, Daniel Cassian limped in. He had a grin on his face and a package under his arm. He put the box down on the table in front of Marcase, took the other man’s chin in his hand, leaned down and kissed him. It was a long, deep, passionate kiss which left the young doctor stunned - and blushing. Hailey and Shiroma tried to suppress their grins and pretended not to have noticed.
       “Your mask,” Cassian said as he slipped off his trench coat and hung it on the nearby coat rack. “Let’s see what it can do.”
       Marcase lost no time tearing open the package. The mask was intricately carved and heavier than it looked. It had a dull yellowish hue.
      “It’s hideously ugly,” Shiroma said.
       “I don’t know why anyone thought this was gold,” Marcase said. “It’s too heavy and too ugly.”
       “Then the first order of business seems to be testing for materials content, no?” Cassian headed off towards his office with as much of a jaunt as was possible with his limp.
       Lost in the excitement of the hunt, Marcase and Shiroma went right to work.
       Hailey watched the child like fervor of the scientists for a moment, and then followed behind Cassian. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door jamb as he watched his boss ease himself slowly into his chair. “You seem in high spirits,” he said.
       “Life is good, Hailey.”
       “Is it now?”
       Cassian thought a moment and then said, “Yes. Yes it is.” He leaned back and gently rested his feet on the desk. “I’ve made peace with my past and am ready to embrace my future.”
       “And Marcase is your future?”
       “Is there a problem with that, Michael?”
       Hailey grabbed a chair, turned it around and straddled the seat with his arms resting on the back. “Have you thought of the consequences?”
       “What consequences?”
       “Well, Cassian, we function in a political arena… Politics and any hint of homosexual activity do not mix, you know that.”
       “I’m the best at what I do, Hailey, and Bartholemew knows it. Besides, I could easily get a lucrative job in the private sector if it came to that.”
       “You’d give up everything for… “
       “For what, Michael? I now realize Edward is everything.”
       Cassian seemed totally serious. Hailey watched him a moment longer to be sure. Finally satisfied, he smiled and shook his head. “Bout damned time you got a life, Cassian.” He tapped the other man on the shoulder as he stood, shook his head again and walked out.
       Cassian grinned happily after his friend as he gingerly rubbed some of the soreness out of his thigh.
      
       “So, what have you found?” Cassian wanted to know some hours later.
       “It’s a very sophisticated alloy,” Shiroma said in admiration.
       “Which functions as an energy booster,” Marcase added in equal admiration.
       They had placed the Eyes where they belonged in the Mask. Cassian rested against the corner of a table and held one ear piece of his glasses between his teeth. “So,” he said, now waving the glasses about for emphasis. “When you opened up Boem, the capsule holding the Eyes seemed to give off an energy spike.”
       Shiroma and Marcase nodded.
       “So, the Eyes themselves are an energy source and the mask boosts that power…”
       “Right!” Marcase said. “Just like I suspected!”
       “So…” Cassian pondered with his eyeglass frame back between his teeth. “Can the mask also help direct the power?”
       “Only one way to find out,” Marcase said as he quickly slipped on the mask before anyone could stop him. Shiroma and Cassian both took a startled step towards him, but Marcase held his hand up and said, “Whoa!” which held them in check.
       “Edward, are you insane?” Cassian demanded.
       “It’s incredible! It’s like… Like…OOMPH!” Marcase was suddenly flung back against the wall with enough force to knock him unconscious.
       “Damn!” Cassian exclaimed, as he tore the mask off and quickly examined the fallen man. “I don’t think he hit his head,” he told Shiroma. “Just knocked the wind out of him.” Looking at the blood stain forming on his shirt, he added, “And reopened the bullet wound. Damned fool. Kim, get a gurney, will you? I don’t think I can carry him very far.”
       Shiroma set the mask down on the table and ran for a gurney. When she returned, Cassian lifted the limp form of his lover and set him down gently on the gurney.
       When Marcase came to, they were just placing the new bandage on his back. Leaning towards the edge of the gurney, Marcase was disoriented and almost fell off, but Cassian grabbed him and pulled him close.
       “Whoa! What a rush!” The young man exclaimed.
       “Damned stupid son of a bitch!” Cassian retorted as he shoved him clear. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
       “Hey, I am the only one with any experience with the Eyes! What were we going to do? Go grab someone off the street and say, ‘Here, put this on, would you? We want to see if it makes your head explode.’?”
       “Stubborn, impetuous bastard,” Cassian mumbled. “You scared the hell out of me!”
       “Oh, shit, Dan,” Marcase said, realizing what he had done. “I didn’t mean to…”
       “Yeah, I know,” Cassian waved his bandaged left hand in dismissal. “So, what did you find?”
       Marcase sat up, the gleam returning to his eyes. “It was fantastic! I… I could hear thoughts and see nerve ends firing! I could smell light and…!”
       “Okay, calm down, Edward,” Cassian placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder to try to rein him in. “Slowly.”
       Shiroma handed him a glass of water and Marcase took a long swig before continuing. “Okay,” he continued. “The mask doesn’t direct the energy - that has to come form the user, which I guess takes practice. But I think I could not only read someone’s mind, but I think I could detect illness. I think the Mask could be used to… to find hidden tumors or early blood clots - maybe to find cures too, I don’t know.”
       “If this is true,” Shiroma said. “We could revolutionize the medical profession.”
       “Damn straight!” Marcase replied.
       “Unfortunately,” Cassian said with a frown. “It could also be used to destroy the world.”
       “Well, we sure as hell can’t let those Nazi bastards get their hands on it.” Marcase scooted off the gurney and picked up the mask. “We’re just lucky they didn’t realize exactly what they had 50 years ago.”

       Peter Hanlon was resting comfortably in an interrogation room. The team watched him from behind the one way glass. “Well, he certainly doesn’t seem bothered at all, does he?” Shiroma commented.
       “No, he doesn’t,” Cassian said. “Maybe it’s time I changed that.”
       Cassian walked in with Hailey close on his heals.
       “Daniel,” Hanlon said affably. “You’re looking none the worse for wear.”
       “No thanks to you, old buddy,” Cassian said as he sat across the table from the prisoner.
       Hailey stood with his back against the door.
       “Oh, come now, Dan, I could have killed you at any time.”
       “As I recall, you did.”
       “But I brought you back.”
       “Yes.” He reached into his jacket pocket with his good right hand and removed a red stone. “Yes, you did.” He lay the stone on the table in front of him and reached into his pocket for another, which he also lay on the table before him.
      Hanlon tried to look unconcerned, but his body stiffened and his jaw clenched ever so perceptively.
       “I believe you were interested in these, no?” Cassian taunted as he scooted the stones around on the table.
       Hanlon said nothing.
       “Pretty, aren’t they? Hardly seem worth what you put me through, though, do they?”
       Hanlon’s brow drew inward and his jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he finally said, “So, what kind of game are you playing now, Cassian?”
       “Oh, I’m deadly serious, Pete. You see, my team and I have figured out how to use these little gems and once we’ve practiced a wee bit, we’ll be able to use them to get all the information we need from you. Your little puppet Reich is finished, Hanlon, and we owe it all to you.”
       Hanlon leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “Uh-huh,” he grunted.
       “Oh, sure - these little things were locked away somewhere for safe-keeping until you drew my attention to them again. I never would have studied them and discovered their secret if not for you. The world owes you a great debt.” Cassian stood and put the stones back into his pocket. “Perhaps I’ll try to get your sentence reduced to Life inside, instead of the summary execution you truly deserve.”
       When Cassian turned to leave, Hanlon dove across the table for him. “You son of a…” he muttered, but Hailey had him in a head lock before he could finish his epithet or get anywhere near Cassian.
       “Tsk tsk,” Cassian clucked. “Such an emotional outburst, Pete. You should learn to relax more.”
       Cassian walked out with a grin and Hailey followed once a couple uniformed officers took Hanlon off his hands.

       Legs comfortably entwined, Daniel Cassian and Edward Marcase were laying in the afterglow of intimacy. Out of nowhere, Cassian asked, “What happened to my comforter?”
       “What?”
       “My comforter. What happened to it?”
       “Well, I…”
       “Did you guys clean the place that day I came home from the hospital?”
       “Yeah, we - oh, that comforter. Oh, well, it was, you know, blood spattered and all. We got rid of it.”
       “You got rid of it?” Cassian sat up and glared down at the younger man.
       “Well, yeah, it was ruined.” Marcase was getting worried now.
       “That comforter was 300 years old. It belonged to my great-great grandmother. It could have been cleaned.”
       “Um, I’m, uh, sorry, Dan,” Marcase stammered. “I didn’t know. It was really bad - it was ruined, I’m telling you, it was…” Cassian was grinning now, which startled him a moment before he realized he’d been had. “Shit, Dan!” He shoved the slighter man over and climbed on top of him.
       Cassian tried to fight back, but was laughing too hard. Marcase easily pinned him to the bed and with a growl, he bit his right shoulder. “Ow!” Cassian laughed as he bucked the other man off.
       They both laughed now. “I would have bitten your nipple if it wasn’t hidden by the bandage,” Marcase said.
       “Thank God for small favours.”
       “You had me going.”
       “Sorry - couldn’t resist.”
       “Actually, I have to be going.”
       “You’re not staying the night?”
       Marcase stood and looked down at the bed. Cassian had one leg bent at the knee and rocked it back and forth as he ran a hand seductively over his own smooth muscled chest. Marcase groaned low and his knees almost buckled, but he shook his head and grabbed for his clothes. “Damn, you’re tempting,” He said. “But we’ve got an early day tomorrow and I need some actual sleep.”
       “Party pooper.” Cassian threw a pillow at him, but Marcase caught it and threw it back.
       “I swear, you’re like a child sometimes.”
       “Me? I’m not the one with the teddy bear collection.”
       Marcase was almost dressed now. “Hey, I have some very rare bears, you know!” Cassian smiled and Marcase leaned down to kiss him. “You’re incorrigible, Dan Cassian.”
       “I know, I take lessons.”
      
       Marcase was still grinning when he got to his door. He was thinking about a particular blond teddy bear in his collection and almost had the key to the door, when he felt a slight sting at his neck. He slapped at it and his hand came back holding a small dart. “What the…?” he muttered, but the world began to spin and he slipped to the ground unconscious.

       Cassian was in a good mood when he got to the lab the next morning. “Edward’s not here yet?” he asked, surprised not to find the man hovering over the Eyes.
       “No,” Shiroma said. “But Hailey was looking for you. I think he’s in your office now.”
       “Thanks,” Cassian said with a slight frown as he headed for his office. Hailey was on the phone when he got there.
       “And just when did this happen?” he was saying. “And you waited till now to inform us because…? Oh, yeah, we’re very grateful, thank you so much!” He slammed down the receiver and then kicked the chair halfway across the room.
       “What is it, Michael?”
       “Hanlon has escaped.”
       “What?”
       “They were transferring him yesterday and he was snatched.”
       “When?”
       “Sometime between 6 and 7 PM. So sorry for not contacting us sooner, but they figured our office would be closed.”
       “Edward.” Cassian ran out as best he could with his limp and Hailey ran after him.
       “What’s going…” Shiroma tried to ask as the two men ran by. “On?” she finished as the door closed behind them. She looked at the door for a moment, shrugged and went back to the medical journal she was reading.
      
       When they got to Marcase’s apartment building, Cassian fumbled in his pocket for his keys, but then spotted something on the ground by the steps. “Edward’s keys,” he said as he picked them up. “They have him.”

       When Marcase awoke, his tongue felt thick and his knees were aching. He tried to shift his position, but couldn’t. He opened his eyes and tried to examine his situation. It was not good. His knees ached because both legs were bent at the knees and secured tightly with leather straps. Ropes secured the leather straps to the legs of the bed, preventing him from closing his knees. His ankles were strapped to a spreader about three feet apart and that was also tied to the legs of the bed and positioned at the very edge of the mattress. To complete his immobilization, his arms were stretched over his head and tied to the other legs of the bed. He was also completely naked.
       It was obvious what they planned to do to him - he was trussed up like the perfect little sex slave. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He always enjoyed a good fuck; maybe if he closed his eyes and imagined it was Daniel, he could get through it. Yeah, right - who was he kidding? He was going to be brutalized and there was no way for him to fight back.
      He was scared. He started hyperventilating, but managed to fight down the panic. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He waited. His muscles ached, but there was no way to flex them or ease the tension. He waited some more and the panic threatened to rise again. He was trying not to breathe too hard when the door opened. He didn’t know whether to give in to blind fear or breathe a sigh of relief that the damned waiting was over, but when he saw who walked in, he was shocked instead.
       “Comfortable, Doctor Marcase?” Peter Hanlon was tapping a riding crop against his thigh as he casually crossed the room. “Surprised to see me, are you?” He sat in a chair next to the bed and grinned triumphantly.
       “Yes, although I’m not sure why,” Marcase answered. His tongue still felt thick from the tranquilizer and his throat was dry, so his voice sounded foreign to him. “I have no idea where the Eyes are.”
       “Oh, I know that. Your lover boy will give them up to save you. Until then, though, I have a personal score to settle with you.” To add emphasis, he slapped the riding crop across the bound man’s chest, drawing a spot of blood through the bandage over the bullet wound.
       Marcase grunted and closed his eyes tightly until the sting subsided. “Was it something I said?”
       Hanlon slammed the crop down hard this time and the blood soaked through the bandage and trickled down his chest. “You made a fool of me, Doctor, and you cost me two of my best men.” He sat back and draped one leg over the arm of his chair. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you. That would be too easy.” He ran the crop over one bound thigh and up through the dark chest hair. “You’re a fine looking specimen, Marcase, I can see what Daniel sees in you.” He opened his trousers and let his stiffening erection spill out. “My tastes don’t normally run towards men, but a fine ass is a fine ass, right?”
       Marcase closed his eyes and sighed heavily.
       “Who knows?” Hanlon said as he stood and walked to the foot of the bed where Marcase was perfectly positioned for easy access. “A young slut like you - you’ll probably even enjoy it.”
       The bound man yelped in unexpected pain as the rock hard cock was rammed in dry. “It’s customary to use a little lubricant,” he said between grunts.
       “I prefer the friction,” Hanlon said, a little breathless as he pumped as hard and deep as he could. Not satisfied with the other man’s reaction, he slapped the riding crop across his chest again.
       Marcase yelped. He kept his eyes shut tight, his head turned away and his fists clenched as he tried to muffle his grunts with each thrust. It’ll be over soon, he told himself. How often can he possibly get it up? I can handle this. Daniel will rescue me and everything will be okay. It’ll be over soon.
       Hanlon grunted with his release and pulled out. “Whoo!” he exclaimed as he buttoned his pants again and flopped back down in his chair. “You’re a good fuck, Doc. My old buddy Cassian must ride you all night long.”
       I can handle this, Marcase kept telling himself. He can’t get hard again that quickly. I can handle it, it’ll be over soon, I can handle it. As if in response to his thoughts, Hanlon spoke up.
       “I hope you’re not thinking that’s all I have for you.” Hanlon chuckled. “Oh no, I plan to make you pay. You’re going to be well used and plenty abused - your lover may not like what he gets back in return for the Eyes, my boy.” He slammed the riding crop down across the man’s chest for emphasis as he called out, “Philip!”
       A head full of curly black hair poked into the door. “Yessir?” he said.
       “Come on in here and show the good doctor what you’ve got in your pants.”
       Philip grinned and walked into the room. He was a big man, maybe six foot two at 200 pounds. The bulge at his crotch indicated he was already aroused. He stood looking down at Marcase on the bed.
       He was helpless and he knew it. Marcase watched as the man lowered his trousers. He groaned and turned his head away, bracing himself for what was to come. The man was hung like a horse. He tried not to tense up his body - he knew it would hurt more if he did, but he couldn’t help it. Hanlon’s secretions would provide a bit of lubrication, but that wouldn’t matter with a cock this size - it was going to hurt and he knew it, but he had no idea how badly. He bucked his hips, clenched the ropes at his wrists and yelled long and hard when Philip slammed into him. Each thrust brought new waves of pain. By the time Philip finished, Marcase was whimpering and blood trickled out of his anus.
       “Nicely done!” Hanlon exclaimed as Philip buttoned his pants with pride. “Tell Margaret to collect her things and come on in, would you?”
       Philip walked out with a grin.
       Marcase was breathing hard and trying to regain some sort of control.
       “That was great,” Hanlon said. “The whimpering was perfection - sheer perfection. And a bit of blood too - excellent! We’ll be seeing more of that, I’m sure. Now, don’t think I plan to ignore your needs, though. No, no - you need some release too, so that’s why I’ve asked my dear Mistress Margaret to entertain you.”
       As if on cue, a slender woman with long dark hair walked in carrying a blue duffel bag. She wore a leather outfit that left little to the imagination. Under better circumstances, Marcase may even have found her attractive, if not for the glint of madness in her eyes. She dropped her bag on the bed next to him and straddled him. She ran her hands down his well muscled chest and sighed with approval. Licking the blood from her fingers, she looked to Hanlon and said, “I like this one. Can I do what I like with him?”
       “So long as you don’t kill him, darling,” Hanlon answered. “We want him alive and fit enough to eventually walk out.”
       “Hmmm, pity,” she pouted. “Still, he’s young and pretty - I can have fun with him.” She leaned over and kissed him so passionately, she left him panting. “Oh yes, I can definitely have fun with this one,” she said as she slapped him hard across the face.
       “Shit,” he muttered, which made her laugh. She had a wonderful laugh. He licked blood from his split lip.
       She pulled a cat-o-nine out of her bag and raised it above her head.
       “Don’t ruin his face, dear,” Hanlon warned hastily.
       Margaret stilled her hand and looked to Hanlon. “Not even a little?” She pouted so prettily, Marcase almost hoped she would get her way.
       Hanlon held his hand up with thumb and forefinger close together and said, “Very little.”
       Satisfied, she instantly brought the whip down across his face. He’d expected a sting, but it hurt more than it should have and he felt blood trickle warmly down his face. The question must have shown in his confused eyes, because she dangled the whip before him and pointed out the tips of each strand. “Dipped in pewter, darling.” To demonstrate just how clever it was, she brought it down across the other side of his face.
       His grunts of pain seemed to please her and she raised the whip again, but Hanlon cautioned, “That’s enough with the face, Mags - I want him to remain pretty.”
       Unconcerned, she dropped the whip and rummaged through her bag again. She emerged with a tangle of wires. Marcase frowned as she untangled them. She clamped one to each nipple with alligator clips, which was highly uncomfortable and he tried to squirm, but the tightness of the ropes and straps left little squirming room. She then slipped off his chest and wrapped something very tightly around the base of his penis and then around his scrotum, which was even more uncomfortable than the nipple clamps. Everything was connected by wires to a small control she held in her hand, which was then plugged into a wall socket.
       Marcase was curious, but full of dread as well. What was she up to? Whatever it was, it was electrical and it was going to hurt. He tried to brace himself, but he wasn’t fully prepared for the pain that seared through his body as she flipped the switch on her control. It was probably only a small charge, but it was attached to the most sensitive areas of his body. She switched it off quickly, thank goodness, but he knew it could only get worse.
       She caressed the insides of his thighs and crawled up between his legs to kiss him. Once again, she left him panting and confused. The gentle touch of her fingers across his chest made his skin tingle. She slid down his chest and ran her tongue along the shaft of his stiffening erection.
       He raised his head to watch her. The sight of those red, perfectly shaped, pouting lips sliding down over the head of his cock made him moan in wanton lust. He wanted her so badly, he could hardly stand it.
       Margaret grinned at him and gently pulled some sort of wire mesh up from the base of his penis to enshroud his entire shaft, tightening it at the tip. She opened the crotch of her skimpy leather outfit and slid herself over his throbbing member.
      She was wet, warm and wonderful. He threw his head back with a moan of pleasure and lifted his hips to drive himself deeper inside her. She brought him to climax and at the very moment of release, she flipped the switch on her little control.
       Their screams mingled and bounced around the room. When it stopped, Marcase was breathing hard as he looked at the woman with horror and ecstasy. She was sitting right on the electrical contacts around his penis and balls - she must have felt the charge as well. He realized she liked it when she flipped the switch again and laughed as he screamed.
       “You scream so wonderfully, my pet,” she said when she had switched the control off. “Lovely music to my ears and a beautiful tingle to my pussy.” She switched on again and gyrated to the rhythm of his screams. The control must have had several levels of charge, because this time it hurt more, his body went more rigid and his screams were more agonizing.
      Her laugh was also more maniacal. When she finished this time she whooped and giggled as she looked down at the tortured man beneath her.
       “Margaret here is my electrical specialist,” Hanlon said. “She did a wonderful job with your lover, Cassian too. Stopped his heart at one point. Got it started again, too.”
       Marcase remembered the electrical burns across Cassian’s chest and back. He was angry and sick at the same time.
       She went through her bag again and produced some more wires. She clipped one to each of his nipple clamps and then to each of her own nipples. “My pussy is having a great time, but my ass is feeling left out,” she said with a beautiful pout.
      She pulled herself off his cock, which was still incredibly hard. He didn’t know if it was the tightness of the wires wrapped around him or the electricity that kept him hard and he didn’t care. He just wanted it to end.
       She used a little lubricant from her bag. “Water based,” she explained. “An excellent conductor.” She smiled as she lowered herself once more onto him - this time, into her ass. She pulled something else out of her bag which looked like two metal dildos connected at the base with wires. “Peter, darling, give me a hand, would you, please?” she said sweetly.
       “Of course!” Hanlon was all too happy to help. He drove one dildo mercilessly into Marcase’s ass as Margaret slowly inserted the other into her pussy. She then plugged the wires into her control.
       “I think I’ll try level three this time,” she said.
       “Oh, my,” Hanlon commented as he sat back down for the show. “I’ve never been higher than level two - you’re in for a treat, my boy.” He was grinning like a school boy and he opened his pants in preparation .
      Margaret looked down at Marcase and spoke like she was speaking to a baby. “Think you can handle level three, little snookums?” Without waiting for an answer, she flipped the switch and hooted with perverse pleasure.
       Marcase felt like he would be split in half! His body bucked, his teeth clenched, he strained against the restraints; Margaret held one arm out like she was a bronco rider at a rodeo and whooped every time his body lurched and drove his cock deeper into her. She grabbed up her whip again and swung it behind her several times to strike his ass. Blood ran down the foot of the bed. When it finally ended, Marcase was sobbing and Hanlon had a firm erection.
       Margaret sighed happily and collapsed across his chest. “You are indeed a pleasure,” she said between deep breaths. “Shall we try level four?”
       He shook his head from side to side and muttered, “No, no no,” over and over.
       “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said as she sat up again. She clenched her whip in one hand and the control in the other. “Ready?” she asked.
       Marcase continued to shake his head and mutter “No,” right up until she flipped the switch.
       Once again, she rode him like a wild stallion, her whip lashing back across his ass, across his chest, once more across his face, which made Hanlon speak her name in warning. The cacophony of screams and the exquisite pain through her loins thrilled her to the very core of her being. Her juices flowed freely and her eyes rolled back in her head as she groaned in ecstasy deep in her throat. This time, however, it was more than Marcase could take and when she finally switched off, he was unconscious.
       Hanlon clapped his hands and said, “Brava, my dear! Your best show yet.”
       Margaret beamed and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of one hand. “He’s wonderful!” she declared. “Can we keep him?”
       “Perhaps, darling, perhaps,” Hanlon told her. “Leave your toys and send Richard in, would you?” As Margaret regained her composure, Hanlon decided to go ahead and remove his clothes all together. “Oh, do remove the dildo from his ass, dear,” he added. “I’m about to bust.” While the woman unhooked herself from the wires and removed the electrical dildos, Hanlon found some smelling salts in her bag.
       Marcase came around with a sputter and some coughing. He moaned and croaked, “Please, no more.” His throat was raw from screaming.
       “Sorry, my boy,” Hanlon said jovially. “But the day is still quite young and I’m so hard, I’m about to explode! Besides, I still have plenty of strapping and enormously endowed young men waiting to fuck you into oblivion. And here’s one now!” A big fellow with long blond hair entered the room. “Richard!” Hanlon called. “Remove your clothing, please.”
       Richard nodded and did as he was told. He was indeed enormously endowed; where did Hanlon find these guys? Marcase groaned and turned his head away. There was no way to prepare, so he didn’t bother.
       Hanlon grasped a hand full of damp hair and turned his head back. “I’m going to fuck you now, Doctor. Richard here is going to test your oral skills. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but if you bite him? Well, I won’t bother to do anything to you. No, I’ll just put a bullet in your lover boy’s brain. A .22 - rattles around in the brain pan - hardly any mess at all, but quite painful, I’m told.” He turned to the other man. “Richard, I want you to position yourself behind his head - I want to be able to see him suck you off.” Back to Marcase, he added, “Enjoy, Doctor.”
       Richard climbed up on the bed and knelt behind the prisoner’s head. He dangled his package in his face and Marcase turned his head away.
       “Think of your precious lover boy,” Hanlon said as he drove himself into him as hard as he could. “A little bullet rattling around in his brain pan, blood seeping out of his ears, gasping your name with his last breath - very touching.”
       Marcase grudgingly opened his mouth. Richard was so damned huge, though, he almost couldn’t take him. His mouth ached with the strain and Richard liked to thrust himself halfway down his throat. He came fairly quickly and Marcase closed his throat. When he finally pulled out, Marcase turned his head, spit out the load and coughed with a look of disgust on his face. After a moment, he realized Hanlon had stopped pumping. He lifted his head to look. Hanlon was grinning at him. Marcase wondered what the hell? Until the light dawned and a look of regretful realization came over him, which quickly morphed into a defeated sigh.
       “The good doctor doesn’t like to swallow, Richard,” Hanlon said with glee. He pulled out and climbed up to straddle his captive’s chest. “I think we should make him swallow.” He grinned down and ran the tip of his cock over the man’s lips. “Don’t forget the vision of Cassian gasping your name with his last agonizing breath.” Marcase closed his eyes and opened his mouth. “I want you to suck, Doctor - work it just like you do for your lover boy.”
       Marcase felt brutalized before, but now he felt shamed. He sucked and caressed with his tongue just like he did for Cassian. Tears ran down his cheeks.
       “Oh, your mouth is hot, Marcase. Danny boy must love this. Does he make you swallow? No, he wouldn’t, would he? Too much the gentleman.” He was getting close to a climax now and was too busy grunting to speak any more. When he came, he thrust himself all the way down his throat and held the man’s nose.
       Marcase tried to hold his breath, but finally gave in and swallowed. He couldn’t help crinkling his nose in disgust, which only made Hanlon laugh.
       “Alex!” Hanlon called as he slid off the bed.
      Yet another big man with a shaved head came in and said, “Sir?”
       “Tell the rest of the boys to come on in, would you?” When the dozen or so men had entered, Hanlon told them, “May as well watch from in here - much better view anyway.”
       Marcase figured there must be a camera somewhere in the room. God, he hoped there would be no damned video tape!
       “Alex,” Hanlon said. “You go ahead and fuck him - and don’t be gentle.” The bald man disrobed and was also very well endowed. “Brian,” Hanlon continued. “I want you to fuck his mouth - and be sure to make him swallow - make him swallow it all.” A red-haired man nodded and disrobed. “Then I want you all to take turns - give it to him hard, make sure he swallows and generally do whatever you want with him - just don’t mess with his face and don’t risk killing him. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t let him sleep. There are smelling salts in the bag. If you want to use the electricity? Don’t go any higher than level two, understand? I’m going to go find Margaret and will be back… when I’m back.” He smiled down at his captive. “Enjoy, Doctor. I know I will.” When he was gone, the men got down to business.
      
       “Did you enjoy killing Harold and his brother?” Alex asked with menace.
       “Yeah, were you fuckin’ with your boyfriend while we buried them?” Another man asked.
      “You like takin’ it up the ass, don’t you, boy?” Alex continued. He was rubbing himself to keep himself hard.
       Brian climbed up on his chest. “Pretty little cock sucker, aren’t you, boy?”
       Various angry voices called out to “Give it to him hard!” and “Make him pay!” and “You’ll eat this, boy, and like it!”
       Every six hours or so, his tormentors were replaced by a new group of men. The names, faces and cocks blurred and Marcase became numbed by the pain and humiliation. Hanlon and Margaret checked in on him once in a while.
      At one point, Margaret hooked Hanlon up to the electrical wires. She clamped his nipples and wired his cock, then inserted the metal dildo into his ass. She then did the same for herself. Amid a cheering crowd of well hung young men, Hanlon entered the captive’s ass and Margaret took Marcase into her dripping pussy. “Level five?” Margaret asked.
       Marcase groaned and shook his head. “No,” he croaked. His throat was raw from screaming, from the friction of so many cocks and from the burning of so much semen. “Please, don’t. No more.”
       “Level five,” Hanlon said as if he hadn’t heard the plea. Maybe he hadn’t. “My God,” his voice quavered in excitement. “Can we really try level five, my sweet?”
       Marcase continued to plead, but was ignored.
       “Just let me know when you’re ready to come and I’ll switch it on, dear.”
       Hanlon could hardly contain himself - it didn’t take a lot of thrusting before he was squealing, “Oh, yes, I’m about to come.”
       Margaret, who seemed in perpetual climax, flipped the switch and the world went white for Marcase. His vision exploded and his body tensed so tightly, one of his wrists snapped. His ears rang with the sound of his own screaming. He mercifully blacked out long before the woman switched off.
       Hanlon and the woman collapsed against each other with blissful sighs. “Oh, baby,” he said to her. “That was the most incredible experience - I almost passed out myself.” She purred pleasantly. Once they’d unhooked themselves again, Hanlon led Margaret to the door. “Wake him and carry on,” he said with a wave of his arm before leaving.

       “It’s been almost two days, Michael,” Cassian hissed between clenched teeth. “Are they here or not?”
       “I think so,” Hailey answered. “My sources say this is a Nazi safe house, but there’s really only one way to know for sure.”
       “Well, I’m ready, let’s go.”
       “I’d rather you not come along, actually, Sir.”
       “No way…”
       “My sources also mentioned what they may have had in mind for Dr. Marcase, and I don’t think you need to…”
       “Shut up, Mr. Hailey, and let’s go already, damn it.”
      Cassian had his eyes narrowed menacingly and Hailey knew better than to argue any more. He radioed to the troops and they started moving in.
      
       Daniel Cassian was a medical Doctor, but he was no stranger to automatic weapons. The rifle he now held served to fuel his thirst for vengeance. His old buddy Peter Hanlon had a lot to answer for. Abusing him was one thing, but messing with his lover was a big mistake. He wasn’t altogether sure he wouldn’t kill the son of a bitch on sight just for the Hell of it.
       There was sporadic gun fire as they approached the house. Upon entering, they found a few men watching a video in the common room, several others were asleep barracks style in two bedrooms and Hanlon was found in flagranté, as it were, with a slender young woman in another bed room. There was one more bedroom to search.
      
       Edward Marcase was barely conscious and was covered in blood, semen and urine. A particularly vicious young man with a swastika tattooed on his neck was sitting on his chest, shoving his grotesquely huge cock down his throat, and another was slamming into his ass with the force of a pile-driver, while a group of more hate-filled Nazis cheered and jeered. Some popping sounds from outside made a couple of the men look around in wonder, and the bastard on his chest grabbed a pistol from the blue duffel bag on the bed just in case.
       He heard the door slam open and thought he saw Cassian with a rifle out the corner of his eye. The gun in the Nazi’s hand started to rise and, in panic, Marcase clamped his jaws shut as tightly as he could. Blood filled his mouth and chilling screams echoed through his head. It took him a moment to realize the screams were not his own this time.
       Next thing he knew, Cassian was telling him to, “Open your mouth, Edward. Come on, open up.” When he was again aware, his bindings had been released and his aching limbs were finally allowed to stretch out. Someone had placed a pillow under his head and Cassian was pulling a blanket over him.
       “What took you so long?” he tried to say, but his throat was raw and his voice was gone.
       “Don’t try to talk, Edward,” Cassian said. “We’ll have you out of here shortly.”
       He tried to say something else, but he drifted off into the darkness instead.

       Dr. Daniel Cassian followed Dr. Albert Bryant into his office. “So, how is he?” he asked.
       Bryant sat at his desk and asked, “Are you a relative?”
       “He has no family, doctor. I’m his colleague, his friend, his lover and the man who brought him in here, and if you don’t want me going ballistic you’ll tell me how he is.”
       Bryant blinked several times before sighing heavily. “Damn,” he said. “Well, I’ve never seen a case like this - what the hell… ?” He stopped himself and shook his head. “No, I don’t want to know. Lacerations, ligature marks, broken bones, internal damage: where do I start?”
       He ran a hand through his hair and started. “Lacerations: some on his face were pretty deep, but we have a good team of plastic surgeons on staff here and the facial scarring should be minimal. Chest, arms, legs and buttocks: well, those were worse - some required stitching. I’m afraid there may be scarring there.
       “His right radius is broken, but it’s a clean break and was easily set - I foresee no complications there.
       “Ligature marks, electrical burns, various bruises - painful, but they should heal with no complications.
       “His throat, uhhhh, well, if you brought him in, then you know. His larynx sustained some damage and his voice may very well be altered, but I don’t think it’ll be anything drastic. We, um, had to pump his stomach.” He shook his head in speechless thought.
       “Go on, Doctor,” Cassian prompted as he sat down.
      “You know he has a recent bullet wound?”
       Cassian nodded.
       “Well, I re-closed the wound - you guys are doctors, right?” He held his hand up and shook his head again. “Never mind - I really don’t want to know.” Bryant took a sip from a coffee cup on his desk and then continued.
       “His rectum. Well, they tore him up, but frankly, I was surprised to find no serious tears. He’s going to need time to heal, though. We’ll try keeping him on a liquid diet for a while, but if that doesn’t work, well, we might have to try a temporary by-pass.”
       “Let’s hope it won’t come to that. Can I see him?”
       “He’s sedated right now - I gather he was severely sleep deprived, but he woke up screaming at one point. I see no reason why you can’t see him.” As Cassian rose from his seat, Bryant said, “You know, um, he should probably speak with a Psychologist - something like this, well, it can scar in more ways than one.”
       “Of course, Doctor, thank you.”
      
       Marcase was twitching in his sleep. “What caused the lacerations?” Kimberly Shiroma wanted to know with a frown.
       “A whip,” Michael Hailey answered, pulling up a chair.
       “Must have been swung with great force to make such deep slashes.” She stood with her arms folded and kept frowning. “Must have been horrible.”
       Daniel Cassian gently lifted the sleeping man’s head, climbed on the bed and slid himself beneath. Marcase shifted in his sleep and made himself comfortable on the familiar lap. His breathing evened out and his twitching stopped. “It was a particularly nasty whip wielded by a slight little woman,” Cassian said. “A cat-o-nine dipped in metal.”
       “The nurse won’t like that,” Hailey said.
       “I’m sitting with my friend. What’s wrong with that?”
       “Why would a whip be dipped in metal?” Shiroma asked.
       “It was pewter, actually,” Cassian said.
       “Just the tips, Shiroma,” Hailey explained. “Designed to break the skin and draw blood.”
       The woman crinkled her nose in disgust. “Crazy people,” she mumbled.
       “Did you finish those blood tests I started, Doctor?” Cassian asked as he gently ran his good fingers through thick dark curls.
       “How the Hell did you get those samples, Cassian?” Hailey wanted to know.
       Cassian smiled briefly and waved his bandaged hand in trivial dismissal, but offered no other explanation.
       Shiroma grinned. “All negative, I’m very pleased to report.” But then she frowned again. “Will he be all right?”
       “Hard to say,” Cassian said simply, his eyes watching something far away.
       “It’s just that, well everyone fantasizes sometimes, but the reality is…” She didn’t have a chance to finish her thought as a nurse walked in.
       “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” she wanted to know, with hands on hips and attitude showing.
       “Visiting,” Hailey said, hoping to avoid a scene.
       “You can’t sit on the bed like that,” she said, wagging a finger in warning.
       “This man has been brutalized,” Cassian said with a calmness he did not feel. “He was having nightmares and thrashing in his sleep and he needs something familiar to hang onto or risk tearing out his IV or reopening wounds.”
       The woman hesitated a moment: this man spoke with authority but also with a deep sadness. “Well,” she said finally. “Don’t make a habit of it.” Then she shook her head and walked out.
       “You two should go get some rest,” Cassian said. “It’s been a rough couple a days.”
       “What about you?” Shiroma said. “You look beat.”
       “He’s been out for days - I want to be here when he wakes up.”
       Shiroma nodded and headed for the door. Before leaving, Hailey said, “Don’t do yourself in - you won’t be any good to him if you’re dead on your feet.”
       “Get out of here,” Cassian said with a shake of his head. When they were gone, he smiled faintly - he really did have a good team.
      
      
       He’d been sitting there for what seemed like hours - maybe it was. As Marcase slept, Cassian cradled his head and gently pet his forehead. He thought of nothing and everything. How had his life come to this? If someone had told him ten years ago that he would fall in love with another man - that he would be willing to die and willing to kill for the love of another man, he would have laughed heartily. But here he was, worried sick and feeling guilty - feeling guilty! Injury, infection - was part of the job and he knew and accepted that, but this… This was different. An old acquaintance (he refused to use the word friend to describe Peter Hanlon) had tortured, had brutalized this young man for no other reason than that he - Cassian - loved him. He gazed down at the bruises and slashes on the man’s face and knew there were worse injuries all over his body beneath the sheets and bandages. How could he live with the knowledge the he was responsible?
       Marcase started to stir. He moaned and shifted position; his brow drew together in pain and he tried to flail his arms, but Cassian held them still. He opened his eyes with a groan. When his eyes managed to focus, he grinned up at his lover.
       “Welcome back,” Cassian said.
       Marcase tried to speak, but his throat was so sore and scratchy, all he managed was a few coughs.
       “Don’t try to talk,” Cassian told him. “Your larynx was damaged.”
       Marcase frowned and brought his right hand up to his throat.
       “Hey,” Cassian said. “Might even make your voice sexier.”
       Marcase grinned and then noticed the cast on his wrist. He frowned at it and looked up at Cassian with questioning eyes.
       “Level five.”
       Marcase closed his eyes and groaned in remembrance. Then he wondered how the hell Cassian could know that and he frowned up at him.
       Cassian shrugged and said, “I watched the videos.”
       Oh my God, Marcase thought. A look of horror came over his face and then he shut his eyes, turned his head away and groaned in shame.
       Cassian gently ran his good hand through the other man’s hair until he drifted off back to sleep.

       When Marcase was released from the hospital, Cassian drove him home. “Déjà vu,” Marcase said as he leaned on a cane.
       “Only last time,” Cassian said, “I was the invalid.”
       “Invalid? Gee, thanks.” As Cassian unlocked the door to his apartment, Marcase grew uneasy. It was right here on the doorstep that he’d been taken. He began to sweat and he felt a little light headed.
       Cassian got the door open and then tried to help Marcase in, but the other man waved his helping hand away. “You sure you’re okay, Edward?”
       “Yeah, I’m all right.”
       Marcase walked in and Cassian turned around to close the door. Marcase had only taken two steps before his knees buckled under him. When Cassian turned back around, he found the other man on the floor. He was curled into the fetal position, he was shaking violently and he was whimpering. Good God, Cassian shouted in his mind. “Edward,” he said aloud. He rushed over and took the younger man into his arms.
       “Hold me,” Marcase mumbled. “Hold me, don’t let go, hold me.”
       “I’m here, Edward; I’m not going anywhere - I have you.” He held him close until the shaking stopped. Dear God, he thought. What have I done to you? Eventually, the other man’s breathing grew even and Cassian knew he was asleep. He scooted himself back against the wall and pulled Marcase’s head onto his lap.
      He sat like that until there came a knock at the door. He had never locked it, so he said, “It’s open,” and Michael Hailey walked in.
       “Hey, what’re you doing on the floor?” he wanted to know.
       “Michael, can you carry him into the bedroom? I’m not exactly in the best of shape right now myself.”
       “Sure, although that wasn’t an answer.” Hailey lifted the sleeping man deftly and carried him into the bedroom.
       “It’s the only answer you’re going to get.” He followed as Hailey put Marcase gently onto the bed. “Thanks, would you mind locking the door on your way out?”
       “Oh, subtle. Hey, are you all right?”
       Cassian ran his good hand through his hair. “Not really, but there’s nothing you can do, Michael. It’s something I have to work through myself.” He squeezed Hailey’s shoulder and said, “Thanks,” before Hailey shook his head and walked out.
      
       When Marcase woke up, Cassian was asleep next to him, with his arm draped over him. They were both naked. Well, other than the bandages, that is. What the Hell? He wondered. But then, he remembered what had happened and became ashamed. He had collapsed and blubbered like a baby. He gently removed Cassian’s arm and slipped out of bed.
       His throat hurt like Hell, so he found some Chloroseptic, which helped. They had cleaned him up at the hospital, of course, but he still felt dirty. He needed a shower. He was leaning against the shower wall with his eyes closed and the warm water hitting his back when Cassian joined him. He was lost in jumbled thoughts of humiliation and ignored the new presence.
       Cassian removed the bandages from around the other man’s body. “You really should have removed these before coming into the shower,” he said. Since he got no response, when he was finished, he said, “Nickel for your thoughts?”
       Marcase grinned slightly as he finally focused on the newcomer and said, “Thought the going rate was a penny.” His voice was barely a whisper and sounded sort of gravelly.
       “Inflation.”
       He nodded absently and was lost in thought again for a moment. Without looking at Cassian, he said, “I freaked.”
       “That’s normal, Ed.”
       “They did worse to you and you didn’t blubber like a baby.”
       “My situation was completely different.” Cassian sat on one of the corner benches of the shower. He had removed his bandages and while the bruise on his face had faded, the deep multi-coloured bruises were still clearly visible along his left side. “As far as I was concerned, I was going to die - all I had to do was hold out till I died. You knew they weren’t going to kill you and all you had to look forward to was more suffering.”
       Marcase looked over at the other man in astonishment. “So, I broke down because I wasn’t threatened with death?”
       “Sure.”
       “That’s stupid.”
       “No, that’s simple psychology.”
       Marcase shook his head and looked down again while the water trailed down his neck. “You, um, mentioned watching the videos?”
       “Yeah.”
       “Plural?”
       “Six.”
       He looked up in astonishment. “Six?” he asked. “Two hour mode?”
       “No.”
       Dreading the answer, he asked, “Four hour?”
       Cassian shook his head sadly.
       His knees gave out and Marcase gingerly sat on the other corner bench seat of the shower. “Thirty-six hours?” he said in horror with a wince at the pain from sitting.
       “Thirty-four, actually.” He had thought to wait a while before revealing all this, but the young man had asked and he had no intention of lying to him.
       “Christ, I was…” He couldn’t even say it.
       Cassian put his good hand on the man’s shoulder and said it for him. “You were raped, Edward. You were brutalized and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. None of this is your fault. If anyone is to blame, it would be me.”
       “Well, that’s stupid,” Marcase said. “Although, I really hope you have no more old friends lurking around anywhere.”
       “Oh, I may still have a few.”
       Marcase grinned despite himself. But then he turned serious again. “Dan,” he said with a frown.
       “Hmm?”
       “I don’t think we should… be intimate anymore.”
       “You need time to heal, Edward - physically and emotionally; I know that.”
       “That’s not what I mean.” He took a deep breath and tried to avoid Cassian’s eyes. “I was… used by… dozens of…”
       “Thirty-five.”
       “What?”
       “Thirty-five different men - plus Hanlon and Margaret makes thirty-seven.”
       “Shit, you counted.” Marcase shook his head slightly and tried to comprehend that. “Anyway,” he continued. “I probably have AIDS.”
       “No, you don’t.”
       “What, they did a blood test at the hospital? You know as well as I do that HIV can take years to show up.”
       “I tested the assailants.”
       “You what?” He looked Cassian in the eyes now.
       “I tested them all and they were all negative.”
       “You tested 37 people?” Cassian nodded. “Without their consent?”
       “Oh, no! They were all quite eager to comply.”
       “Why the Hell…?”
       “Simple, really,” Cassian said with a straight face. “I told them all you have AIDS.”
       Marcase’s jaw dropped. “You are one devious bastard, you know that, Dan Cassian?”
       “Yeah.” Cassian grinned.
       Marcase couldn’t help but grin as well. After a while, Marcase asked, “Did you happen to count how many lashes I took with that damned whip?”
       Cassian shrugged. “I lost count at 92.”
       “Christ.” He shook his head and tried to comprehend that too. How the Hell had he survived this? “Did you, uh, happen to kill Hanlon while you were at it?”
       “No.” Cassian didn’t looked pleased. “Not from lack of trying, though.”
       “You missed?”
       “Hailey knocked my gun aside as I fired.”
       Marcase nodded in understanding. “I vaguely recall… biting someone…”
       “Yeah, damn, man, but you have some powerful jaws.” Cassian shook his head in admiration.
       “Yeah?”
       “Bit it off.”
       Marcase winced, as he also vaguely recalled Cassian urging him to open his mouth. “Umm, I didn’t… swallow it, did I?”
       Cassian grinned. “Nah, although we just couldn’t seem to get him to the hospital in time to reconnect it either.”
       “I, um,” Marcase began. “I suppose, there has to be a trial?”
       “Don’t you want them put away?”
       “And the jury will have to… see the tapes?”
       Cassian moved across the stall, turned off the water and knelt between the other man’s legs. He winced at the electrical burns evident around Marcase’s genitals before gazing up into deep brown pain filled eyes. “Those tapes will convict the bastards more surely than anything else. And you know, rapists - especially guys who rape guys - are not welcomed with open arms in prison. The only cons treated worse are pedophiles and I can assure you, they won’t find any help from their so-called Nazi brothers inside.” He leaned his head gently against a moist thigh and closed his eyes. “A trial is a long way off, though, Ed,” he said. “You need to concentrate on yourself for now. Take it easy and heal.”
       The younger man leaned his head back against the wall and ran his fingers through Cassian’s damp blond hair.
       “So,” he said after a lengthy pause. “When can I get back to work on the Eyes?”
       “Oh, yeah, about that…”
       Marcase pulled the other man’s head up by his hair and glared at him. “What?” he demanded.
       “Well, the DOD showed up with a…”
       “You turned them over to the Defense Department? You bastard!”
       “Whoa,” Cassian said as he pried his hair loose and leaned back. “Hell, no, I didn’t turn them over, Ed. Jeez, man, give me a little credit. But I couldn’t keep them around just waiting for the DOD to get a search warrant and trash the place, which they did, by the way.”
       Marcase relaxed a little. “So, what did you do?”
       “I turned em over to a private research facility. They’re safe, Edward - you can visit them later.”
       “Damn - you scared me.” He ran a hand through his wet hair and sighed heavily. “So, can I visit them now?”
       Cassian smiled. “No, you can’t. The DOD will probably follow us around for quite a while - we’d better lay low. Besides, Bartholomew wants you and Shiroma in Zimbabwe as soon as you’re up to it. Some research he’s doing.”
       Marcase nodded. “Yeah, I’m aware of his research.” He leaned back again. “Shit, I feel like hell, Dan. How did I survive this?”
       “You survived because you love me.”
       Marcase raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
       “Uh-huh. Shannon noticed it too.”
       “She did, huh?”
       “Oh, yeah. Oh, and Renee says you’re a hottie.”
       Incredulous, Marcase said, “How old is Renee now?”
       “Too young for you, mister.”
       “Oh, well, I seem to prefer older men anyway.”
       “Is that right?” Cassian rose to look the other man in the eyes.
       “Hmmm.”
       Cassian got closer to where their lips almost touched. “Well,” he said softly. “It has occurred to me recently that I seem to prefer you.”
       “Really?”
       “Hmmm. As shocking as it may seem, I’m in love with you, Doctor Edward Marcase.”
       “Scandalous, Doctor Daniel Cassian.”
       “Indeed.”
       “What will people think?”
       “Who cares?” Cassian finally touched lips - tentatively, as he was unsure how the other man would react after his ordeal.
       Marcase closed his eyes, moaned quietly, wrapped his arms around his lover and pulled him tight. He needed a little passion - a little warmth.
       Cassian grew breathless and pulled away slightly. “I was scared out of my mind,” he whispered.
       “Me too.”
       “C’mon,” he said as he rose and offered his hand. “Let’s get more comfortable - the shower is too cramped.”
       Marcase took the offered hand. “I really can’t handle sex right now,” he said.
       “I know. I just want to hold you.”
       “Oh yeah, I would really love that.”
      
       The two men toweled off a bit, re-bandaged each other and then lay in each other’s arms - talking, snuggling, kissing… It was good to be alive.