Revelation

Chapter 1

Nicholas Black's mind was racing as he drove his BMW toward the condo on the south side of the city.  His brow was furrowed, his lips locked into a worried frown.  His hands were clenched so tightly around the steering wheel that his knuckles were white.

He had to talk to Jim.  Jim would know what to do.

*******

Two nights ago, the team had returned to San Francisco from Boston, where they'd shut down a corrupt doctor who'd used his prestigious stress clinic to turn innocent people into assassins, and then sold his services to the highest bidder. 

But this mission had been one of their toughest.  It was Nicholas' job to become Westerly's patient, and in so doing he had unwittingly subjected himself to the sophisticated mind control.  Not only had he narrowly averted executing the President of West Africa, but he had attacked Shannon and pointed a gun at his team leader.

It was Max who'd spotted him.  Max who'd stopped him.  Max who was the first face he'd seen when the brainwashing faded out.

It was Max who fussed over Nicholas all the way back to California, who promised to call his friend first thing the next morning to see how he was doing.

But Max hadn't called.

At first, Nicholas hadn't worried much.  They had been late getting back, after all, and Max had probably slept in.  But as the day wore on, it started to gnaw at Nicholas that he hadn't heard from his friend.  So Nicholas had tried to call, but had gotten no answer.

One by one, each of the other team members had called to check in on the dark-haired agent.  Nicholas had casually asked each of them if they'd heard from Max.  None of them had.

By nightfall,  the nagging feeling that something wasn't right had mushroomed, and Nicholas couldn't get Max off his mind.  He tried to call once again but still got no answer, so he got into his car and drove to Max's place.  Both Max's car and his motorcycle were in the driveway, but no one answered the door.  Nicholas had even dug the spare key out of its hiding place and gone inside - just to make sure that Max wasn't lying sick or hurt somewhere inside and unable to get to the phone.  But the apartment had been empty.  And Max's bed hadn't been slept in.

Nicholas had resisted the urge to contact Jim immediately, trying to comfort himself with the rational words he knew he would hear from the elder agent.  "I'm sure Max is fine.  He's probably just decompressing, out having a good time, maybe even hanging out with some friends."  Except Nicholas knew that outside the team, Max didn't really have any friends.

Instead, Nicholas had told himself that everything would be all right in the morning, and had tried to soothe himself to sleep.  It had worked, but not well.  And when the morning had again yielded no response from Nicholas' phone call, the dark-haired agent could take it no more.

*******

Nicholas pulled up slowly in front of Jim's condo.  As he opened the driver's door, his keen hearing detected faint voices coming from inside.  He couldn't understand the words at first, could only hear well enough to discern that there were two voices, both distinctly male.  But then his eyes fell on an open window on the left side of the building.

Nicholas knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but curiosity got the better of him.  He silently eased the car door closed.  Then he crept over to the open pane, crouched beneath it, and listened.

*******

"What is the meaning of this, Max?" Jim demanded sternly.  "Public intoxication?  Disorderly conduct?" He held the police report in one hand, smacking it emphatically with the back of the other to hammer his point home.  "What were you thinking?"

Max sat in stoic silence, his eyes on Jim's hands rather than his face.

"Why, Max?" Jim asked, a little calmer but still angry.  "Tell me why."

"It's personal," Max growled, his voice barely audible, but his tone clearly signaling that he wasn't going to elaborate.

"You're part of the IMF, Max," Jim countered, his anger dissipating quickly, giving way to exasperation.  "Nothing's completely personal."

Max's blue eyes went icy as they locked with Jim's.  "This had nothing to do with the IMF," he said, with obvious restraint.

Knowing he'd struck a nerve, Jim backed down a bit more.  "Maybe not, Max," he conceded, "but you know as well as I do that IMF agents are held to a higher standard of conduct." Jim tapped the paper again.  "This is more than enough to get someone dismissed from the team."

Max ran a hand through his blond hair nervously, not sure if being forced out of the team would solve his problem or make it worse.  "Jim, they're both misdemeanors," he said, his voice low, "and I've never been in trouble before.  I'll have a hearing, and a fine, and that'll be it.  I've already spent my night in jail.  They won't send me back."

"You're probably right, Max, but they'll still be on your record, and I'll still have to explain things to the Secretary."

"I'm really sorry, Jim."

Jim looked at Max, and just like that the rest of Jim's anger vanished.   The angry rebel sitting in front of him had disappeared, replaced by a remorseful little boy who'd just been caught doing mischief by his father.

"Look, Max," he said, with a soft sigh, "this mission was tough on us all, and I'm pretty sure I can smooth things over with the Secretary.  But I won't be able to help you if this happens again."

"It won't," Max promised.  "Thanks, Jim," he added, ignoring for the time being that the mission hadn't been completely responsible for his behavior two nights before.

Jim smiled slightly and gave Max an awkward, fatherly sort of pat on the shoulder.  "Come on," he said, standing up, "I'll take you home."

Chapter 2

Nicholas' mind flooded with countless questions and emotions, but the one that superseded all of them was blind panic.  He didn't want Max and Jim to know he'd been eavesdropping.  Quickly, he scrambled back to his car, opened the driver's door, and sat down.  By the time Max made his way out the door, it looked like the dark-haired agent had just pulled up.

"Nicholas!" Max greeted, his eyes wide with surprise.

"There you are," Nicholas responded, his voice reflecting genuine relief that Max was safe.

Jim emerged from his condo and spoke to Nicholas before Max had a chance to respond.  "What are you doing here?" the elder agent asked.

"I came to ask you if you'd seen Max," he said truthfully.  Then he turned to his blond friend and smiled slightly.  "I didn't hear from you all day yesterday.  I was starting to worry."

"Sorry, pal," Max said stiffly.  "I had some things to take care of." He eyed Nicholas closely, trying to determine if the dark-haired agent had heard anything he shouldn't have.  But Nicholas' expression was devoid of anything except mild concern, and he seemed to accept Max's explanation without question.

Then Max's voice softened as he remembered the reason he was supposed to talk to his friend the day before.  "How are you doing, buddy?"

"I'm fine, Max," Nicholas smiled.  Then his smile faded somewhat as he looked around.  "I don't see your ride anywhere," he said vaguely.

Jim cleared his throat quickly.  "I was just about to take him home," he said hastily, without further comment.

"I'll do it," Nicholas offered.  "It's on my way."

Jim cast a glance at Max, who nodded tersely, though it seemed to Jim that he looked very uncomfortable.

"Very well, then," Jim said with a slight smile.  "I'll see you both later." Then Jim went back inside and Max folded his long legs into the passenger side of Nicholas' BMW.

*******

They were five minutes from their destination, and Max still hadn't spoken a word.  Nicholas stole a glance or two at his blond friend, who seemed a million miles away.  Finally, he could stand it no longer and broke the silence.

"Is everything all right, Max?"

Max became aware of Nicholas' voice only as he finished speaking.  He turned his gaze from the window to his companion.  "What did you say?"

"You seem to be thinking hard about something." Nicholas smiled, but there was gentle concern in his voice.  "Just making sure you were okay."

"I'm fine, pal," Max answered, though his voice was anything but reassuring.  In truth, he wasn't fine, and being there in the car with Nicholas wasn't helping matters.

"Are you sure there isn't anything you want to talk about?"

"I'm sure, Nicholas," he replied, making a conscious effort to sound more confident than he felt.  He flashed a smile at his teammate.  "But thank you."

"Well, if you change your mind," Nicholas offered, returning his smile as he pulled in front of Max's apartment, "you know where to find me."

The car came to a stop, and Max climbed out, closing the door behind him.  He stuck his head through the open window.  "Thanks for the ride, buddy," he grinned.

"You're welcome," Nicholas replied.  "Call me later."

Max thumped the car door twice in response.  Nicholas lingered long enough to make sure Max got inside, then he put his BMW in reverse and headed home.

*******

But even as Max's apartment disappeared from view, Nicholas' mind did not stray from his friend. Of course, he was relieved that Max was safe, but if possible he was more concerned about his blond teammate now than he had been earlier this morning.

Based on what he'd overheard, Nicholas knew that last night Max had been drunk, in some sort of fight, and then in jail.  But what had prompted it?

Nicholas didn't remember much about being under Westerly's control; most of it had been explained to him at the debriefing.  Besides​ himself, the team's concern had been focused largely on Shannon, whom Nicholas had attacked on his way to the attempted assassination.  They'd all but forgotten the scene at the clinic's pool, when Nicholas had wrapped his hands around Max's throat and they'd both ended up upside down and soaking wet. 

Max, too, had seen the haunted look, the lack of recognition, the uncharacteristic aggression in the dark-haired agent's eyes.  Max, too, knew exactly what Westerly had done.  Nicholas knew that Max had been deeply worried about him, but he'd quickly dismissed his own feelings - or stuffed them.  Was that what had driven him to drink?  And why wouldn't he talk things over with Nicholas, the way they'd always done?

Maybe he just needed some time, Nicholas reasoned.  That was reasonable.  He would give his blond teammate a day or two, but then one way or another, Max was going to talk to him.

Chapter 3

But the team didn't even have time to get settled in at home before Jim called them out again.

This time they were headed to Pontiac, Nevada, to investigate a former Congressman suspected of killing an undercover FBI agent and supporting terrorism under the cover of a re-created Old West mining town.

But even from the briefing scene, things were strange.

Normally, Nicholas would save a seat on the couch for Max, who was typically the last to roll in.  Today Nicholas had planned to wait outside Jim's condo for him, to intercept him before the mission and find out what was eating him.  But Max was uncharacteristically early.  By the time Nicholas arrived, Max had taken his place on the couch beside Grant, leaving the dark-haired agent sitting on the other couch by himself.

As the briefing progressed, Nicholas tried to make eye contact with Max, to no avail.  What's more, on several occasions he caught his blond friend with a pensive scowl on his face.

As soon as the briefing was over, the five agents piled into Jim's Land Rover and headed for the airport for the short hop to Nevada.  Again, Max sat with Grant, and Shannon with Jim, leaving Nicholas by himself.  There was no time or opportunity for a private conversation.

At Pontiac, the three younger men were tasked with playing the role of helpers at McClintock's ranch.  But regardless of whether they were out riding horses or back at the casino, Max kept his distance from his dark-haired teammate - even at times appearing to purposely move away if Nicholas approached him.

Max seemed visibly relieved when Jim sent Nicholas with Grant to do an initial check of the mine, but they both knew they'd be returning there together since Grant would be busy helping Jim cheat at poker.  The second trip to the mine was the first time Nicholas had had Max to himself since the mission began, but there was no time to engage in serious conversation. They had only a scant few moments to finish their task before the end of the poker game.

And that's where the strange got stranger.

******

Max did his best to look busy while Slade's men were milling around close by.  Once they had cleared out, he cast a glance toward his teammate, standing near the left hand wall.

"Ready?" he called.

Nicholas looked up, then came walking toward his friend, who was already bent at the waist preparing to pick up one end of the heavy silver canister.  Nicholas gingerly made his way to the other end of it, steadying himself by placing a hand on Max's back.  The two men carried the canister to the left hand wall and stacked it perpendicular to the others.

After taking a cursory glance around to make sure he wasn't being watched, Nicholas took out the vial, broke the seal, and poured it onto his black rubber gloves.  Meanwhile, Max unzipped his white radiation suit and produced the special amber light Grant had given them.  Nicholas rubbed the compound until it covered his gloves thoroughly, then he nodded toward Max, who turned on the light.

"Help me!" pleaded Nicholas, as he began to stagger around, his gloves glowing an eerie florescent blue.

"Oh, my God!  Canister's broken!" uttered Max, adding to the ruse, as the amber light blinked slowly.

"Somebody help me!" repeated Nicholas, more urgently.  "I'm burning!"

"Let's get out of here!  Move!" cried Slade's men as one by one they broke into a run and headed for the mine exit.

Nicholas continued to shout for help, and the workers couldn't get out fast enough.  Then Max popped up from the place where he'd been crouched down, waiting for the last one to leave.

Max jerked off his hood and looked quickly at his friend, who was doing the same.  "You okay?" he asked, his voice tense.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Nicholas replied, mildly hostile, as he caught his breath.  "Now, to set the explosives."

********

With that, the mission was all but over, but Nicholas couldn't get his mind off what had happened at the mine.  Max had deliberately avoided him for the entire mission, yet had obviously been concerned enough at the end to ask about his well-being. 

And there wasn't even a reason why Nicholas wouldn't have been okay.  The fake radiation exposure couldn't have hurt him.  One of Slade's men had pushed him up against the equipment during their hasty exit; that hadn't hurt him, either, though it was part of the reason Nicholas' voice held an air of hostility when he answered.  The rest of his irritation was with Max. 

Come hell or high water, as soon as they got back to California,  Nicholas was determined to get to the bottom of what was going on with his teammate.

Chapter 4

As soon as the debriefing was over, Max jumped into his car and headed toward his apartment without a superfluous word to anyone.

He glanced at his rear-view mirror and was not surprised to see Nicholas' BMW right behind him - after all, home was in the same direction for both of them.  He was surprised, however, when the BMW followed him into his driveway.

A twinge of nervousness seized him as both men exited their vehicles.  Max was the first to speak.

"Nicholas, what are you doing here?" he asked, mildly afraid of the answer.  "Is everything all right?"

"No, Max, it's not all right," Nicholas responded, trying to keep his frustration in check, "and it hasn't been all right since Boston.  We need to talk."

Max averted his eyes.  "There's nothing to say," he muttered, as he turned and walked toward his apartment.

"Oh, I disagree, Max," countered Nicholas, as he stepped between his blond teammate and the front door.  He forced Max to lock eyes with him, and Nicholas' own flashed fire.  "I think there's plenty to say, and I'm not leaving here until we say it."

Max sighed heavily, knowing his dark-haired friend wasn't going to let this go.  "Very well, then," he relented, reaching past Nicholas to stick his key in the keyhole.  "Come on in."

The two men entered Max's home, and the blond agent promptly sat down on the couch.  "So," he began, "what is it you wanted to talk about?"

Nicholas' sigh was somewhere between worry and exasperation.  "Why don't we start with Pontiac," he answered, "down in the mine, just before we set the explosives." He plopped down beside Max.  "When you asked me if I was okay."

"Was I not supposed to be concerned about you?" Max's voice was low.

"It's not that," Nicholas replied, matching his tone.  "It just didn't make sense." His features darkened.  "Especially since you avoided me the whole bloody rest of the mission."

"I wasn't avoiding you," Max said, quietly defensive, knowing that was exactly what he was doing but not for the reason Nicholas imagined.

"Well, it certainly felt that way to me," Nicholas retorted, unable to contain the edginess in his voice.  "If it wasn't that, I'm not sure what you'd call it." Then Nicholas cringed at his own hostility and reminded himself that his goal was to get Max to open up, not to be accusatory.  He closed his eyes for a moment,  took a deep breath, then opened them again.  "At first, I thought maybe I'd done something wrong," he continued, his tone softer now.  "We've always been able to talk things through, but even before the mission you were shutting me out.  Obviously, you still care about me, so I'm not exactly sure what's going on."

Max felt a churning in the pit of his stomach.  No, pal, you have no idea, he thought ruefully.  There was a lengthy silence before Max finally responded.  "I just don't like seeing you hurt," he explained, unable to meet his teammate's piercing gaze, "even if it is just pretend."

Nicholas felt the implication of Max's words hit him in the pit of his stomach.  "You're thinking about what happened in Boston," he said gently.

A shudder passed visibly through Max's body as the images from Boston flashed through his mind like the ones on the videotape Westerly had shown to Nicholas. Struggling with his friend by the poolside, and again at the zoo, knowing that in those moments Max couldn't break through to him...Feeling his friend's hands around his throat...Being forced to leave the clinic knowing he was leaving Nicholas in the hands of a mad killer...

Hearing Nicholas’ raspy voice in the mine, as he’d uttered the words, “Help me!  I’m burning!” had taken Max back to that day.  He could see himself and the dark-haired agent clinging to the side of the pool, Max splashing water in his face, trying desperately to break through the mind control, hearing Nicholas scream, “Leave me alone!” in that same, raspy voice.

Pontiac had been a ruse, a means to an end.  But for a moment, for Max, his partner was in danger all over again.

"It's all I've been able to think about," Max admitted, even as Nicholas, who'd seen him tremble, reached out to lay a warm hand on his friend's forearm and felt the blond agent still shaking slightly. 

"Is that how you ended up behind bars the night we got back to California?"

Max’s head snapped up and he looked wordlessly at his friend, his expression unreadable. 

"That day at Jim's condo...the window was open.  I heard everything."

Max's stomach lurched at the memory.  So Nicholas knew, after all.  Of course he wouldn't have given Max hell about it the way Jim had.  That wasn't his way.  But Max couldn't believe his friend hadn't said something about it before now.

Nicholas read the look on Max's face, and he shrugged.  "I kept waiting for you to come talk to me about it, Max," he explained.

Nicholas laid his hand on Max's forearm once again.  "I know it's been bothering you," he said in a half-whisper.  "Talk to me."

Max hesitated, refusing to meet Nicholas' eyes.  His stomach lurched.  Nicholas lifted his hand from Max's forearm, reached up, and grasped his friend's chin, gently tilting it upward until the icy blue eyes locked with his.  "Max, tell me," he said again, and Max's stomach dropped to the floor.

"I'm scared," Max finally replied.

A pang of empathy shot through Nicholas' heart at the admission.  "Why are you scared?" he asked, working hard to keep his voice even.

"If I tell you," Max whispered, trying to ignore the heat rising in his midsection, "it will change everything between us, and I'm terrified that you'll never speak to me again."

"That's never going to happen," Nicholas reassured him, smiling slightly.  He felt the slightest twinge of apprehension, wondering what could be of such significance.  At the same time, Max was his best friend; surely there was nothing that could come between them.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Max murmured, his eyes downcast.

"Max." Nicholas was quiet until Max lifted his head and met his friend's eyes again.  "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do," he replied without hesitation.

"We'll work through this, whatever it is.  I promise."

Max sighed heavily.  "All right.". And he began to speak.

Chapter 5

They'd finished the Boston debriefing an hour before, as soon as they'd gotten back to San Francisco.  Debriefings were typically very useful; the team members tarried at Jim's condo, discussing the just-completed assignment, working through any lingering emotional issues that might distract from future missions.

But no amount of discussion could help Max forget about Westerly, and what he'd done to Nicholas. 

They were all worried about their dark-haired teammate, Max especially.  Knowing what his friend had been through affected Max deeply, and the others knew it.  But the blond agent was quick to deflect their concern, assuring them that he'd be fine even though he knew better.

He hadn't drunk to the point of oblivion in a long time.  But he knew that was what he was going to do tonight.  So he hailed a cab to McGregor's, to remove any temptation he might have to try to drive home afterward.

They didn't bother him till he was two drinks in.

"Hey, buddy."

Max turned around to see a tall, brown-haired man in a cowboy hat smiling at him.  "You're drinking like you lost your best friend."

Max knew better than to take the bait, but with his inhibitions already compromised he couldn't help himself.

"Not quite," he growled, as he finished off his drink and signaled for another, "but pretty damn close."

The man who'd spoken sat down on the empty barstool to Max's left, while another man, black-haired with a darker complexion, sat to Max's right.  The darker man clapped his hand on Max's shoulder.

"She must've been one hell of a looker, eh, pretty boy?" he guffawed.

Max's mind went back in time, back to the beginning of the mission.  Pulling up in front of the ship they would be using as base camp.  Spotting that familiar shock of coal-black hair.  Losing his breath at the sight of that sea green shirt, collar unbuttoned just enough to reveal bronzely tanned skin.  Trying not to stare at those narrow hips, concealed by crisp, white pants.  Trying not to imagine how those white pants would look sliding off that dark skin...

"He is a pretty boy, isn't he?" agreed Cowboy Hat.  "You know what they say about pretty boys."

"I sure do," answered his companion.  Hand still on Max's shoulder, he leaned in close to the blond man's ear, the stench of stale booze emanating from his open lips.  "Maybe that looker isn't a dame, after all."

The remark took Max by surprise; there was no time to mask the look on his face.

Cowboy Hat guffawed loudly.  "Well, lookee here," he grinned.  "I think we got ourselves a funny boy."

His companion jerked his hand away from Max's shoulder as if it were a hot iron.  "I think you're right, partner," he agreed.  Then he stood up, and leaned in close to Max's ear again.  "Your kind ain't welcome here," he crooned.

Max stood up suddenly, if a little shakily due to the alcohol he'd consumed, and his taunters were taken aback at his tall frame.  They both took a step backward as Max scowled.

"And just what are you going to do about it?"

The black-haired man threw the first punch.  Max punched back, and then the entire place erupted into a free-for-all, with fists and slurs traded back and forth.  Eventually, someone called the police, and the night ended with Max and a couple others being hauled in to sleep it off behind bars.

When Max woke up a few hours later, he was offered a phone call, but he turned it down.  He knew he was facing charges, and he was embarrassed and ashamed about what had taken place.  He couldn't face the condemnation that Jim, or Grant, or even Shannon, would dish out if they knew. 

The only person Max was sure wouldn't judge him was Nicholas, yet Nicholas was the one person Max couldn't bear to face right now.

So he languished in his cell, with no visitors, until his twenty-four hours were complete.  Then early the next morning, the deputy came and unlocked the door.

"Come on out, Mister Harte, you're free to go."

Max followed the deputy to the front, where his personal belongings were returned to him.  As he absently wondered how he was going to get home, the deputy answered his question.

"I took the liberty of calling your emergency contact," he announced.  "He's waiting for you in the lobby."

Max's stomach dropped to his knees, for he knew exactly who they'd called.  It was the same emergency contact for all four junior members of the IMF.

*******

"And that's why I didn't call you the day after we got back from Boston, and why I was at Jim's condo without my wheels the next morning," Max finished.

Nicholas was quiet for a long, uncomfortable moment, as he considered all of the implications of Max's story.  When he finally spoke, there was empathy in his voice.

"I'm sorry those bastards treated you that way, Max," the dark-haired agent said huskily, laying a gentle hand on Max's shoulder, his brown eyes moist and shining.

Max's chest tightened to the point where he could barely breathe.  Those eyes.  That touch.  That voice.  Those caring words.  Nicholas certainly wasn't making this any easier.

"They were right," he murmured, in a voice so quiet that Nicholas barely heard him.

Nicholas' grip tightened on Max's shoulder.  "What do you mean?" he questioned, matching the blond's tone.

Max dropped his gaze.  "I'm gay."

Chapter 6

There.  He'd said it.  Revealed to his closest friend the one secret he'd managed to keep from his team.  Passed the point of no return.

There was again silence as Max continued to look down at his feet.  He knew that Nicholas was still beside him - he could still feel a hand on his shoulder - but he was terrified to look up for a moment, afraid of what he might find in Nicholas' gaze.

At last, Max lifted his head, and his eyes found his friend's.  Nicholas smiled softly.

"Do you really think that matters, Max?" he asked quietly, tenderly. "Do you really think that changes the way I feel about you?"

Max's emotions were a jumbled mess.  Of course, Nicholas would accept him.  If it were any of the others, there might be a question.  Jim was traditional and old school;  Grant so obviously masculine, always with an eye for the ladies - how would he react to know their girl-watching had all been a farce?  Even Shannon, who just this latest mission had been the feigned target of Max's affections: how would she feel if she knew that she wasn't the one on his mind when he was flirting?

But Nicholas was different - so open-minded and non-judgmental.  It was just one of the many things Max loved about him...

Max was relieved at his friend's reaction thus far, but he wasn't finished yet.  He took a deep breath, determined to blurt out the rest before he changed his mind.

"What if I told you I'm in love with you, and that I was avoiding you because I was scared you'd figure it out?"

The silence lurking in the room before was nothing compared to that moment.  It encircled Max's neck and threatened to choke the life out of him.  Nicholas had not yet responded, though his hand was still firmly planted on Max's shoulder, and Max couldn't take it anymore.

"I told you it would change things," Max grunted, as he got to his feet and prepared to bolt out of the room.

But Nicholas caught his arm.  "Max, wait."

Nicholas kept his hand firmly on Max's arm until the taller man's blue eyes met his own.

"This is...a lot to take in," the dark-haired agent said softly, his voice trembling slightly.  But he wasn't angry, and he wasn't pulling away.  That was a good thing, wasn't it?

"When did you....?"  Nicholas hesitated, stopped, tried again.  "How long....?" His voice trailed off.

Max threw his head back and chuckled softly at the irony - his normally eloquent friend at a loss for words.  "How long have I known I was in love with you?" he asked, and Nicholas nodded sheepishly.

Max thought silently for a moment.   "Probably since Zurich," he finally answered.

"Really?" Nicholas' expression was unreadable as he recalled that mission, almost a year before.  "Why Zurich?"

"You were at the mercy of Graff and the others," Max recalled soberly.  "We knew he was armed and volatile, and we weren't able to keep in touch with you all the time.  And then Graff shot you...I know you were wearing the vest, but still..."

Max shuddered at the memory; it was their fifth mission as a team, but the first time Nicholas had been in real danger.  Nicholas reached out to grasp his hand, intertwining his fingers with Max's own as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.  "It's okay," he soothed quietly.

"I think that's when I first realized how much you meant to me," Max finished, lifting Nicholas' hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

"Why didn't you say something before?" Nicholas chided softly.

"I was afraid I'd lose you," Max answered somberly.  "If you don't feel the same way, I can live with it.  But your friendship means everything to me, Nicholas.  I can't lose that."

"Max," Nicholas whispered, still holding his friend's hand, "there's something I have to tell you."

Once again, Max was struck by a surge of anxiety as he studied the handsome, tanned features.  He tried to brace himself, to prepare for the gentle let down he sensed was coming, reminding himself that Nicholas' friendship hadn't changed.

"I love you, too."

The joy that Max felt upon hearing those words was tempered briefly by a twinge of uncertainty.  "Nicholas, you don't have to say it if you don't really mean it-"

"But I do mean it, Max," the dark-haired agent insisted.  "I wouldn't patronize you; you know that.  I've loved you almost since our very first mission." Nicholas' eyes locked with Max's.  "Have I ever lied to you?" he added in a whisper.

"No," Max answered honestly, certain now, as he reached up with his free hand to lightly stroke Nicholas' cheek.  "But you kept things to yourself."

"I thought you were straight," Nicholas admitted with a shrug.

Max's lips curled into a playful, seductive grin.  "Come on, now.  You couldn't tell?"

"Not for a while, at least," Nicholas replied, returning his smile.  "For the past few missions, I've sort of wondered, but I kept second-guessing."  It was Nicholas' turn to avert Max's gaze.  "Besides," he added softly, "even if you were into men, I never dreamt you'd be attracted to me."

Max's heart came up in his throat at the statement, so atypical of his normally self-confident companion.  He would have to explore that further.  But for now, he had to put Nicholas' mind at ease.

"I can assure you, Nicholas," he responded, reaching up to brush a tiny tendril of hair from those dark eyes, his tongue briefly touching his upper lip enticingly, "you are exactly the man I'm attracted to."

A soft shudder coursed through Nicholas' body, fueled by both the confirmation of Max's desire and his own.  In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to taste that mouth for himself and give life to the fantasy he'd entertained for well over a year.

Nicholas leaned in closer, catching Max's lips gently between his.  The blond quickly reciprocated, and the kiss sent an electric shock through both of them.  Slowly, passionately, they tasted one another until they were both running out of air.  Reluctantly, Max released him.

Nicholas smiled softly as he caught his breath, a hint of redness touching his cheeks.  "So what do you suggest we do about this, um, mutual attraction?"

Max allowed a grin to curl across his face.  Slowly.  Provocatively.  "I have some ideas, if you're interested."

"Oh, I'd say I'm very interested," Nicholas confirmed, returning his smile.

"Then follow me," the blond agent suggested, tossing his head toward the stairs.  He stood up and reached for Nicholas' hand, then he gently helped the shorter man to his feet and led him up the steps to Max's bedroom.

Chapter 7

"So, about those ideas you had...?" ventured Nicholas, as they reached Max's bedroom.  But there was a slight shakiness in his voice, and Max heard it.  A quick look in his partner's eyes confirmed his suspicions.

"Are you nervous, Nick?" he questioned, his voice quiet.

Nicholas was touched by the tenderness in Max's voice, by the lack of judgment there.  He couldn't have lied to him, even if he'd wanted to.

"A little," he admitted, "but not because of you."

Max's body pulsed with impatient desire, but the last thing he wanted to do was make Nicholas uncomfortable.  Instead, he sat down cross-legged on the king-size bed and patted the space across from him.  "Sit with me," he urged, and Nicholas complied.  When he did so, Max took a hand in each of his and looked deeply into his partner's soft brown eyes. "Have you ever done this before?" he asked, in a half-whisper.

Nicholas sighed.  "Once," he answered.  "A fellow actor I met right out of college.  But it didn't work out."  Nicholas watched his fingers rub Max's own as he spoke.  "I thought there was something wrong with me, so I... never tried again."

So that's where the insecurity comes from, Max thought bitterly, as he released one hand and grasped Nicholas' chin, tilting it upward until their eyes met. "There is nothing wrong with you," he assured him.  "I promise you that."

Nicholas smiled his appreciation.  "I'm sure you've had much more...experience," he said tentatively.

"Some," Max conceded, taking Nicholas' hand again.  He studied Nicholas' pensive expression and felt a brief twinge of anxiety.  "Does that bother you?" he asked quickly, dreading the answer.

"No, Max," Nicholas said reassuringly.  "I don't care about the past.  All that matters is now." His brown eyes, sparkling with anticipation, locked with Max's baby blue ones.  "Being with you."

Nicholas' blue flannel shirt was already unbuttoned nearly halfway down his chest as he usually wore it, coal-black hair peeking out around the collar.  He reached up to grasp the highest button, but Max stopped him, taking hold of both hands and gently lowering them.

"Let me," he pleaded, and the sound of his gravelly voice sent a silent thrill up the smaller man's spine.

Though the more experienced of the pair, Max's hands shook slightly as he meticulously unfastened each button.  Nicholas felt the bottom one give way and his shirt fell from his back.  Max brushed his fingers lightly across his partner's chest, and Nicholas felt his middle swell in response.

"My turn," he whispered huskily, as his trembling hands repeated the task.  Then he reached up with both hands and tucked his fingers underneath the fabric.  He slid his hands over Max's massive shoulders, chasing the material down each arm until it was gone, then gently rubbed the smooth, supple skin of Max's exposed bare chest.

"You are exquisite," Nicholas said breathlessly.

"You're pretty amazing yourself, Nick," Max responded.  He looked pointedly at the swelling beneath the dark-haired man's waistline.  "I can't wait to see what's underneath those jeans," he added.

"I may need a little help getting them off," Nicholas said teasingly, becoming more aware of the tightness of the denim around him.

Max smiled and swallowed hard, his bobbing Adam's apple causing the tightness in Nicholas' midsection to increase.  "Happy to oblige," he offered, with an air of confidence.

Max stood up, and the expanse within his own jeans was obvious.  "Lay back," he whispered to Nicholas, who was still sitting cross-legged on the bed, and like a small child Nicholas obeyed.  Slowly, patiently, Max undid the fasteners and slid the denim garment off his lover's hips.

Then, hungrily, Max explored every inch of copper-toned skin with his hands, his fingers, his mouth, alternately kissing and stroking.  Nicholas moaned in pleasure and his back arched as he came closer and closer to the brink of climax.

As he neared the point of release, Max lay beside him on the bed, and held him close as his world exploded.  A soft moan escaped Nicholas' lips and he closed his eyes, drifting off to paradise for a moment.  When he came back down to earth, he was aware of Max's strong hand still resting on his shoulder.  His dark eyes opened again, reluctantly, and Max's baby blue ones were starting lovingly back at him.

Nicholas smiled.  "That was... incredible," he gasped.

Max returned his smile, then kissed his lips, briefly but tenderly.  The dark-haired man closed his eyes again, drowsily.

"Why don't you rest now," Max suggested softly.

Nicholas forced his eyes to open.  "Not yet," he whispered.  He reached up to trace Max's chiseled jawline gently with two fingers, then allowed his hand to explore the bulge that was throbbing with desire within the tall blond's boxers - wondering absently at what point Max had shed his own denim jeans.

"Please, Max," he begged, and the sound of his lover's voice sent him to a new level of urgency, "I want to feel you inside me."

Not having to be asked twice, Max stood up, and the erectness of his thinly concealed lower half was dramatic.  He removed his shorts with one fluid motion, and Nicholas could not stifle a gasp.  He had not expected his partner to be so...beautifully endowed.

Nicholas felt a slight twinge of trepidation as he asked himself what he'd gotten himself into - he who wasn't used to intimacy; who, unlike his partner, hadn't been with anyone in years.

Max caught the look that crossed his lover's face - the surprise and appreciation, mixed with the slightest hint of fear.  He eased his tall frame back onto the bed and held Nicholas' face with his hand.

"If this is what you want, Nicholas," he crooned, "I promise I won't hurt you."

There was pure love in Nicholas' smile.  "I trust you, Max," he said simply. "Always."

Chapter 8

The almost childlike loyalty in those soft brown eyes caused Max's stomach to lurch and threatened to push him to the brink prematurely.  He wordlessly signaled his partner to lie back on the bed.

Nicholas felt the lubricant cool and moist against him, magically produced from somewhere, as Max's fingers gently guided it where it needed to go.

Then he felt Max's fullness lurking at the entrance, tentatively exploring.  The first attempt met with resistance and a whisper of pain.  Reflexively, Nicholas flinched, and Max immediately pulled back.  But then he was back, again seeking entry.  Pushing just to the point of pain, then pulling back.  Repeatedly, but unhurriedly, until finally the resistance gave way.

Then one sharp sting of hurt gave way to unspeakable pleasure as Max filled him.

"Are you okay?" Max whispered instantly, concern for his best friend intermingling with the unbridled passion in his voice.

"Yes," Nicholas gasped, breathless now.  "Please....don't stop...."

For the first time, Nicholas experienced making love - not with the forceful thrusts of self-centered intercourse, but with the gentle patience of someone who truly cherished him.

After what was simultaneously an eternity and just a moment, the dark-haired man felt his partner's passion release inside him.  Soon, they were both lying on the bed, each man breathing heavily, hearts pounding and bodies trembling as the last of the tension faded away.

Max pulled the smaller man into the crook of his arm and cradled him there, like a small child, Nicholas' head resting on Max's shoulder, the big man's other arm across his lover's chest.  Max kissed the top of the dark, sweat-soaked head.

"How do you feel, Nick?" he asked, his voice still husky.

"Oh, Max," Nicholas sighed, sleep threatening to overtake him at any moment, "I just want to lie here in your arms forever."  He interlaced his fingers with Max's.  "But I feel like I need a shower."

"The shower can wait," Max answered, himself drowsy, and Nicholas felt the vibration of his baritone against his ear.  "Let's just rest for a while."

For nearly an hour, they slept there, together, their fingers still intertwined.  Nicholas was the first to awaken.  Somewhat stiff but unwilling to extricate himself from his sleeping lover's arms, he lay there, listening to Max's gentle breathing, admiring his handsome, rugged face.

Finally, the taller man began to stir, and Nicholas reached up to stroke his hair, tracing his cheek gently with one finger.  Max's blue eyes fluttered open.

"Hey, there."

Nicholas planted a quick kiss on Max's upper lip.  "I'm going to take a shower," he told him.

Max did not move his arm from where it rested on his partner's chest.  "There's something I need to tell you about the shower, Nicholas."

The dark-haired man looked at his friend in confused surprise. "What's that?"

"It's been terribly dry in San Francisco lately," Max noted, that seductive grin curling across his face as he slowly pronounced each syllable.  "We shouldn't be wasting water."

Nicholas returned his grin, raising one eyebrow.  "Then perhaps we should shower together."

"That's a great idea," Max deduced, his ice blue eyes twinkling, as he withdrew his arm and then followed his lover into the master bathroom.

*******

The joint shower led to a second round of foreplay, followed by more cuddling on Max's king-size bed.  This time, only Max fell asleep.  Nicholas lay still for a while, watching him, then he stealthily slid off the bed and tiptoed down the steps to the kitchen.

Nicholas and Max hadn't kept track of time, and he was only mildly surprised to learn it was nearing seven in the evening.  Absently he wondered if any of his other teammates had tried to call him, since he'd spent the entire day with Max.

Nicholas prepared a pot of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, his mind racing, still trying to wrap itself around the idea that Max was in love with him.  Nicholas felt like the luckiest man in the world.

There was lots to love about Max.  Obviously, on the outside he was ruggedly handsome and muscular. But Nicholas was more taken with Max's personality, and his heart.  He was intelligent, charismatic, unflinchingly loyal, and he cared about people in a way Nicholas had never experienced before.

The faint smile that lit up his face when he thought of his partner faded a little as he considered the implications this added twist would have on their friendship - and on the team.  They would have to talk about that.

Chapter 9

The dark-haired agent was still seated at the table, lost in thought, when he became aware of the sound of footsteps upstairs.  He rose up and poured a fresh cup of coffee - black, two sugars, just the way he knew Max liked it - just as the tall blond agent came into sight.

"Hey, Max," Nicholas greeted his lover as he approached, stretching up to place a kiss on his rugged jawline and handing him the coffee.

"Hey, yourself," Max answered, smiling his thanks but with a hint of concern in his voice as he sat in the chair next to Nicholas.  "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Max," Nicholas assured him.

"How long have you been down here?"

"A while," he answered vaguely. Max's raised eyebrow was an unspoken signal to elaborate further.  "Just thinking."

Max took a sip of coffee, and then set the cup down again. "About?"

"Oh, lots of things," the dark-haired agent shrugged.  "You.  The team." A beat.  "Us."  Nicholas gazed at his best friend, his brown eyes sparkling.  "This has been the most amazing day," he sighed.

"So you're happy with how things turned out between us?" Max questioned cautiously.

"Very," Nicholas confirmed.  Then he took on a wistful expression.  "I only wish I'd known how you felt about me months ago," he lamented.  "We've lost so much time."

Max reached over and grasped his hand reassuringly.  "We can make up for it," he promised.

Nicholas gazed at Max and saw the question form before he could even ask.  "Speaking of time," he added, "When did you know for sure?"

Nicholas looked puzzled for a moment, then his face registered comprehension.  "That I was in love with you?" he asked, and Max nodded.

Nicholas' face broke into a disarming smile, showing that tiny gap between his front teeth that Max found so incredibly sexy.  "Honestly," he answered, "probably Zurich."

Max grinned widely.  So they'd each arrived at the truth at the same time.  "No kidding?"

"Oh, I think I was attracted to you from the very beginning," he explained, "but I remember exactly that moment when you were questioning the real von Schow.  I'm not sure whether I was afraid he would attack you in the interrogation room, or because you made such a sexy Federal policeman.  Either way, I couldn't take my eyes off that monitor."

Max chuckled.  "Did the others notice?"

Nicholas shrugged.  "If they did, I'm sure they just thought I was watching von Schow, getting a sense of his mannerisms so I could assume his identity."

"But that didn't matter." Max shook his head.  "The other grandsons had never met him."

"I know," Nicholas agreed, with a provocative wink, and Max smiled at the suggestive connotation. 

Then Nicholas sobered.  "We'll have to be careful about how we act around the rest of the team," he advised.  "I'm not sure this new development would sit well with any of them."

"There's no reason that anything really has to change, Nicholas," reasoned Max.  "We are still best friends, after all, so of course we're going to act a certain way.  And we've always spent time together, even when we're not running missions."

Nicholas smiled.  "That's true," he agreed, laying a hand on Max's arm, "but I wonder about people's assumptions if we're together all the time.  You know as well as I do how much the IMF discourages relationships between team members."

"I know," Max agreed.  Not to mention how the nature of their relationship would complicate matters, each one added to himself but left unspoken.

"Like tonight," Nicholas noted, rising from his chair to look out the kitchen window at the approaching dusk.  "I really want to spend the night with you, but I worry that someone will try to get in touch with me."

Max felt the heat rise up in his midsection again at the suggestion.  He got up from his chair and walked up behind his lover, playfully nuzzling the back of his neck.  "I think that's a great idea," he crooned, "and there's nothing so important that it can't wait until tomorrow.  Jim has my number if a new mission comes in."

Nicholas turned to face the taller man, reaching up to gently touch his cheek.  "I just don't want to do anything to get either of us in trouble," he said in a worried half-whisper. "You've already got those charges hanging over you."

"That's not going to amount to anything, Nick."

"I know," Nicholas conceded, "but anything else might send Jim over the edge."

Max knew that Nicholas was right, but the worry in the soft brown eyes troubled him.  He laid a hand on Nicholas' shoulder. "Tell you what," he suggested softly.  "If it'll make you feel better, I'll follow you to your place.  You can check your messages and leave your car there." His blue eyes twinkled mischievously.  "Then I'll bring you back, and we can make the rest of your worries go away."

Nicholas smiled, then rose to his tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on Max's lips.  "Thank you. You're the best," he said fondly.  "I might just grab a couple things while I'm there."

"You won't need clothes," Max winked seductively, and Nicholas laughed as the two men started out into the night.

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Four days later, Nicholas received a call from Jim telling him to pack a bag for their next mission in Colombia.  Nicholas promised to relay the message to Max, which wasn't difficult since Max was sitting beside him at the time.  They were set to meet at Jim's condo in two hours and catch a flight out right after briefing.

As soon as Nicholas hung up the phone, Max smiled at him, his tongue touching his upper lip provocatively.  "You know, they say Colombia's pretty hot this time of year," he replied.

"So I've heard," the shorter man responded.  "You'd better pack some of those muscle shirts of yours."

"And you'd better pack some of those shirts you can unbutton halfway," Max teased.

"Speaking of hot," suggested Nicholas, feeling the heat rise within him at the mental picture of Max in a muscle shirt, "it's getting rather that way in here, wouldn't you say?"

Max glanced at the evidence of his partner's arousal and felt his own body begin to respond.  "Now, remember, Nick, we only have two hours, and I still have to go home and pack."

"Plenty of time," said Nicholas, as he took Max's hand and led him upstairs.

*******

Two hours later, Nicholas and Max arrived separately at Jim's condo.  Shannon motioned for Max to sit with her, so Nicholas sat across from them on the couch with Grant.

The two agents shared a private chuckle at the irony of their chosen attire.  Nicholas normally arrived at the mission briefing impeccably dressed in suit and tie; today, he had ditched the tie and suit coat and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest.  Conversely, Max had traded his typical casual wardrobe for grey dress pants with matching jacket.  It was as if each man had chosen to wear something the other would like, and they both had to make a conscious effort not to stare at one another during the course of the meeting.

Once it was over, the four junior agents grabbed their luggage out of their respective vehicles and prepared to head to the airport.  While Grant busied himself loading everyone's luggage, and Jim and Shannon climbed into the Land Rover, Nicholas followed Max back into the condo to help him carry out the last heavy box.

"You look damn good in that suit," Nicholas whispered, once they were out of earshot of the others, "but you'd look a lot better out of it."

"I'll remember that when we get back home," Max grinned.

"I'm counting on it," answered his partner.

Max locked the condo behind him, and the two men loaded the box into the Land Rover.  Max closed the hatch and thumped his friend and lover fondly on the shoulder.  Then he climbed into the driver's seat while Nicholas got into the back beside Shannon, and the five agents headed for the airport.

The End :)