THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Julian

Written by Lady Poetess
egiggles at moose-mail.com
/~bbp

Please do not reproduce on any website without permission. This
story has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.

PROLOGUE

The man on the floor was close to death. There was too much blood
pooled on the floor, black crimson that tainted everything it
touched. Christian Kane couldn't even muster the grief anymore as
he watched the man die second by second. Blind to the blood he was
stepping on, he went down to his knees beside the man.

For a brief moment the cold moisture seeping through the fabric at
his knees struck him. Shouldn't blood be warmer than this? His
brother's blood. He touched Gilbert's cheek - cold. Gilbert was
already slipping away.

"Don't speak, Gil. It's okay." He was surprised his voice was
calm, a far cry from the violent fury and grief he was feeling
inside. "It'll be okay. You'll be fine," he whispered.

"Jules - " Gilbert whispered. "Jules - "

"Sssh." Kane closed his eyes as a drop of tear fell down his
cheek. Don't die, he wanted to scream. But he couldn't. He ran his
fingers through Gil's hair awkwardly.

"Jules knew - " Gil tried to say again.

"I know," Kane said.

Gil shuddered that one time, his face contorted into an expression
of agony. It lasted one second, then his face eased as his body
fell limp. He was gone. Kane couldn't bear to see his younger
brother's eyes, blue eyes now gray with death, he couldn't bear
it, so he gently reached out and closed them.

"Rest in peace, brother. I'll find Jules," Kane said quietly.

He knew Julian McMahon. Gil had told Kane all about his newfound
love in their emails. It was a beautiful moment, the first time
Kane found his usually depressed brother feeling upbeat. Only last
week, Gil's last email came, a teary, bitter email that told Kane
more than clearly that the relationship was up in smoke. Kane
dashed home too late - to find Gilbert like this, one clean
gunshot through the man's forehead.

He could curse the traffic jam that delayed him. He could hate
himself for not trying to break his assignment in Serbia sooner to
get back to Gil. But now was not the man for regrets. That would
come later.

For now, Kane had Gil's death to see to.



Three man lay dead and one more would be soon.

"I told you he's the best man with the gun," Jeremy Northam told
Noah Wyle. Both were key players in this recent security problem
that went wrong.

"He creeps me out," Noah said. "And that's saying something."

Both men were wounded. Jeremy's right shoulder was bleeding where
a bullet went through, and Noah was gently nursing his bleeding
right hand where a knife cut it deep. Noah was out of his league.
He had handled guns before, but it was in the safety of a target
ring or once when he - he had never been under a situation like
this, where he was fired upon openly by terrorists.

Usually they would let the Navy SEAL troops handle the hijack of
the German embassy. Yet in the forty minutes since the hijack took
place, Jeremy, Noah, and one more, Julian McMahon, had to be in
the building. And while Noah was all for waiting until the SEAL or
whoever come in, Jeremy and Julian decided to play hero.

Noah was a computer type of guy. He didn't do this. But he had as
much at stake in this as Jeremy and Julian. The J guys co-owned
Wildcard Securities, a small-time security firm that specialized
in high-tech gadgetry applications and skilled expertise and
manpower. Noah's own security firm dealt with the software of a
security program. Both of them were small-time names slowly
climbing up the hierarchy on the account of their reliable track
record. It made sense that Noah found himself working with those
two guys and their company often. They shared mutual clients and
they enforced rather than hindered each other's efforts. Noah
provided the software, and the others carried out the dirty work.

Now everything - their reputation as well as lives - was going
down in flames. But not if Julian had his say. Noah had long
learned that in Wildcard, Julian was the wild card in question.
Calm, controlled, and always emotionless except for the hungry
gleam in his eyes, he reminded Noah of a hungry panther who could
pounce any moment. Both he and Jeremy shared a history of
unorthodox service in armed forces, but while Jeremy was
nonchalant and well adjusted, Julian seemed to be withdrawn as an
effect of his past. The latter was not emotionless - far from it.
He could be, if his buttons were pushed correctly, the most loyal,
passionate, and dangerous man one could find. A perfect assassin.

And between the three of them, they had actually cleared the
terrorist defenses in a feat worthy of a Jerry Bruckheimer movie.
It was a matter of breaking into the computer room, gunning down
who was in the way, and letting Noah loose into the mainframe. A
few minutes and the countermeasure procedures were underway. The
terrorists as well as their hostages were now fully trapped in
this building. Then it was a matter of sniping down the terrorists
one by one.

And that was Jeremy and Julian's specialty.

Noah jumped as he heard gunfire. Then the thud of a body hitting
the floor. The lights were dim as a result of power outage, and he
was grateful for that. He thought he was cruel. He hadn't seen
these two in action.

"Gotcha," Julian said in a voice free from his native Australian
accent, and then kicked open the boardroom door.

Noah instinctively threw himself across the floor as Julian opened
fire. There were six terrorists in the room along with several
hostages. Julian took down four in just as many seconds - his
aiming eerily superhuman perfect even in the dim light. The two
remaining men, taking a hostage each as a shield, were easy target
for Jeremy's surprise attack from behind. It was an art perfected
by these two, it seemed: get everyone's attention on the seemingly
invulnerable Julian, and Jeremy would sneak up from behind.

"Is it over?" Noah asked. He survived this. Wow.

At that moment, there was a click of a gun behind him. Noah
turned, feeling death just around the corner and wishing he
wouldn't die like this, to see the outline of a gunman. Julian's
gun clicked - empty. "Fuck!" the man cursed.

Noah closed his eyes. "Goodbye Birkoff," he thought even as he
counted the seconds for the end.

Ten, eleven, twelve. he opened his eyes, unable to believe that he
was still alive.

He was. He stared at the face of his very dead would-be killer. A
very well aimed heel of a high-heeled shoe pierced through the
spot between the man's eyes. Noah turned to Jeremy, who shrugged -
the man probably smiled in the dim light, Noah couldn't see. And
the shocked Ambassador was watching Noah - or rather, the dead
gunman, her bright yellow stockinged foot still awkwardly splayed
at an angle where Jeremy wrenched her shoe off.

"I need to go home," Noah said numbly.



ONE

Julian McMahon stood at the roof of his penthouse apartment block
and looked down forty stories to the world below. The night sky
was clear and there was a perfect full moon, and light breeze
caused his coat to billow, giving him the air of a brooding,
Byronesque hero. The romanticism was lost on him, however.

He only felt the cold to his bones. That and the weariness that
cut deep into his soul. He was thirty-two, and he had lost count
of how many people he had killed without any second thought.
Thirteen two nights ago - and they called him a hero. It was
fucking too bad that the thrill was lost. Once, he would have
given anything to be a hero. Now, it was just fucking too bad.

His feet inched forward towards the edge.

"I wouldn't jump if I were you. You will be hit by the traffic as
well. The pressure of the fall will cause internal bleeding.
Getting hit by cars will definitely make you look stupid in the
coffin."

The silent voice startled Julian. He slipped, and just as easily,
his right hand reached out and caught the ledge as he fell over
the building. With an easy bound, he swung himself back up. And
smiled to the stunned look of Gilbert Kane who had shouted and ran
over the moment Julian fell.

"I can't die. My self-preservation instincts are too good to let
me die," Julian said slightly bitterly as he dusted his clothes.
"Gil. You died a week ago."

He said that aloud in a matter-of-fact tone. If anyone thought it
ludicrous that he was speaking to a ghost, he wasn't one. It was
only natural, he guessed, that he either went mad or there really
were ghosts around and Gil had come back to haunt him. He welcomed
the haunting - he embraced it.

"I - " Gil started to say, then closed his mouth as he stared at
Julian in what seemed like shock.

"I read about it in the papers. They said it was suicide." Julian
wanted to touch Gil, but he savagely kept his impulses in check.

"And what do you think it was?" Gil asked quietly.

"You tell me," Julian said simply. "Are you dead?"

"No, I'm not," Gil said just as simply.

With that, all his control broke free, like ice melting under the
rising summer sun. "I never meant to hurt you, Gil. I'm sorry,"
Julian said. If his voice held an urgency that made it hard, it
was an accurate reflection of his turbulent emotions. "Why the
fuck did you kill yourself anyway? I'm not worth it, damn you." He
clenched his fists, only to relax when he realized that there was
nothing to hit. "I said we are just friends. Never meant to lead
you on."

"Are you drunk?" Gil asked quietly. He actually placed his hand on
Julian's arm.

Julian was momentarily diverted by this touch. Gil had never dared
touch him this way. The man was all nervous ticks and paranoia
that irritated Julian more often than not. Apparently death had a
calming effect on Gil. He liked that. "No, just depressed," he
answered honestly. "Look, want to - I don't know - listen to my CD
collection? I'm so tired, and I don't want to be alone tonight. I
don't expect you to say yes, not after - you know, but I'd be
grateful."

And to his surprise, Gil shrugged and said, "Okay."

At that moment, Julian Augustus McMahon felt an unfamiliar
lightness in his soul. It was as if the rusty chains in his soul
had finally broken. For the first time, he felt lighter and freer,
as if a sense of well-being had enveloped him in a protective
cocoon. He gave Gilbert a curious look, before determination took
hold.

This was something new. An indefinable emotion, and one Julian
intended to explore.



Julian McMahon was mad. Christian Kane could only think of that as
a reason why Julian would mistake him for his twin brother. Julian
knew Gil was dead - that sealed it. The man was insane.

A starkly beautiful insane man, Kane admitted. He knew now why Gil
was attracted. He himself was, a surprise considering how he and
Gil had diverse tastes in everything in life. As he watched the
man sleep on the bed, his fingers itched to feel the tight
musculature of the body he remembered pressed against him as
Julian staggered, drunk, into the house. Julian's shirt had
loosely fallen open, fastened together by a few buttons still
intact, and the man's fur-lined chest tempted Kane's fingers to
dig and bury themselves in the warmth of those dark curls. No
gentle tapering of fine hair towards the groin for Julian - thick
hair liberally coated the man's chest and stomach without any
elegant patterns, just whorls of untamed strands. And Kane
wondered if the man was any less hairy where the jeans hid him
from Kane's eyes.

Julian's elegant face and primal beauty wouldn't touch him this
badly. It was the man's hunger that broke down Kane's defenses.
Stark, yearning hunger and desperation that burned from Julian's
eyes and emanating from every inch of that tall, elegant frame.
Here was a man who wanted, craved, and yearned all his life for
something intangible and impossible. Like. what? Love?

Kane's harsh laugh startled even himself. Love. What a joke. Love
was the most sadistic curse one could wish for in this life. Look
at Gil.

Gil. Julian knew something. What was it that he said earlier? "I'm
not worth it. never meant to lead you on." Vague clues, but
nonetheless, Kane wouldn't discount them. He had cracked Gil's
code and accessed his twin's files. Everything suggested that Gil
was on to something sinister. Kane didn't know what, but he would
find out.

Julian was his only clue, and until he knew more, his only
suspect. And for the first time in his life, Kane prayed that he
had the strength to withstand this dark and demonically handsome
visage. But even as he closed his eyes to look away from the man,
his fingers curled, as if in protest. They wanted to touch, and
they wanted what his heart wanted but didn't dare.




TWO

"Good morning," Julian said cheerfully. He was cheerful. Best
fucking sleep he ever had, and when he awoke, he saw Gil sleeping
on the couch. "Want some breakfast?" he asked as he watched Gil
warily raised himself from his couch. "Waffles, strawberry jam,
toast, pancakes - I outdid myself in the kitchen today. You do
eat, right, Gil?"

It struck him as ridiculous, he talking to a dead man. Maybe this
wasn't Gil, but someone else. A twin, perhaps. However, he just
couldn't muster the energy or inclination to even ask who this man
was. It was easier - for now - to believe that this man was Gil.
Far better to live in denial than to face reality - the man that
made him feel this good was probably a lie, like most everything
else in his life.

"I eat," Kane said.

The man was good looking, Julian acknowledged to himself. The most
beautiful he had ever seen. Sullen yet looking like a brooding
Gothic hero, he made Julian wonder what he would look like if he
smiled. Or when Gil came as Julian fucked him. Julian paused at
that thought, and just as easily shrugged it off. Fine - he'd fuck
Gil too. No big deal.

Cold orange juice splashed onto his hands, and his momentary and
unheard of carelessness disconcerted him.

"Let me get that," Gil said, taking the jug away from him.

The man was small, Julian thought stupidly. Not small, but
compared to Jules' six-feet-two, Gil would reach just around his
shoulder. He never noticed how delicate or vulnerable Gil was
before. "Okay," he could only say. "This is crazy," he couldn't
help saying. He couldn't help saying, staring, and stammering -
his control had deteriorated more in two days than his entire
life. "I should ask who you are. In fact, I should rightly put my
gun to your head. But I won't." He lifted one leg to a stool and
pulled out his automatic from the holster strapped to his lower
left leg under his trousers. And grinned, knowing he was coming
off a complete sociopath, at Gil's stunned look as he removed
another from the holster around his right lower leg. And one more,
he wouldn't tell Gil where that one came from, he thought
mischievously. "Three guns - always on me. And that's on a good
day."

Gil only shrugged. His left hand absently moved to rubbed the left
side of his neck as he poured orange juice into their glasses. It
was an absent gesture, but one that made Julian's eyes follow the
movements of those fingers along the slender curve of the neck.
His mouth dried, and his cock hardened, causing his him to reel
slightly from the abrupt light-headedness he felt.

"I'm not Gil," the other man said finally. "I'm his twin brother
Christian."

"I know," Julian said. "Not who you are, but I guessed you aren't
Gil."

"Really?" Gil - Christian - looked at Julian curiously. "So you
are sane."

"That is still up to the jury. Last night I wasn't feeling. like
my usual self." Julian turned at the bell chime of his toaster and
removed two well-done light brown pieces of toast. He made to
toast two more slices of bread and returned his attention to the
man. "So Christian - "

"Please, Kane. I never liked that name Christian."

"Kane." Julian grinned. "Christian Kane. A contradiction."

"My parents aren't that imaginative," Kane said, his tone one of
bemusement.

"You aren't going to ask why I know you aren't Gil?" Julian asked.

"No." Kane studied the plate of toast before him, as if steadying
himself. Then, "I'd like to ask whether you killed Gil."



There, he had done it. With one easy, careless question, he had
placed his life in Julian's hands. In a way, he welcomed the end
of the charade. The burden of pretense was another excruciating
burden he wasn't willing or able to endure. Not when he was
already grief-stricken with Gil's death, his own life, and hell,
the whole existence in general.

Maybe the oblivion promised by the three weapons rested
incongruously on the table would be a better alternative. He had
been so tired and cold all his life that he just wanted it to end.

But Julian only shrugged. "I didn't. I like that fellow. The only
way I hurt him was to tell him that his love for me was all on his
side." He was layering jam on toast, and the sight of him holding
a knife was mesmerizing and terrifying - a promise of violence as
much as hospitality. Yet, watching the smooth gliding motion of
blade on bread, Kane only felt a calming reassurance. Life or
death - it didn't matter to him anymore. "I'm sorry I hurt him
that way. You want to shoot me for causing him to go kill
himself?" Julian asked, startling Kane. And the man pushed an
automatic towards Kane. "Go ahead."

With a flash of insight, Kane knew. Looking into Julian's eyes, he
knew - Julian didn't want to live anymore than he did. The man's
eyes seemed ancient in their tightly leashed pain and torment.
Both of them could be soul mates if Kane was a foolish romantic.
Both wanting it to end but couldn't fight the courage to do it.
Both waiting for someone to offer them a way out.

"I don't think Gil killed himself. One clean accurate shot through
here." He gestured at the center between his eyes with his hand.
Strange, it didn't hurt so much to talk about it. "Your
trademark."

"Yes. But didn't you hear? I'm a hero now," Julian said mockingly.
"I saved people. I don't kill them." More sober, he added, "And
there's no reason for me to kill Gil. But there's no reason for
you to believe me, is there?"

"No," Kane said honestly. He didn't know what to say or think now.
"No," he said again, this time a whisper as he closed his eyes and
tried to focus. What should he do now?

At that moment, there was a ring of a phone. He opened his eyes
and watched Julian pull out a cell phone from one of his back
pocket. "Yeah? Jeremy, yeah, it's me. I know I'm running late, but
there's no important - shit, I forgot about the Myers contract."

Kane couldn't help smiling at the look of dismay at Julian's face
as he argued with the man on the phone. It was nine thirty in the
morning, but obviously Julian was running late for some important
business event. And the man at least showed concern in that. Maybe
he wasn't that inhuman after all. He looked around the house.
Clean, beautiful, and sterile were three words he could use to
describe Julian's luxury penthouse. Julian might want to die, but
he wasn't above making his life as comfortable as possible while
he lived.

"I think I better go," he said stupidly when Julian hanged up. Not
that he had anywhere to go. He had resigned from his job and was
currently living in a cheap motel room.

"No. Don't go," Julian said. "I can help you solve whatever this
is about Gil."

Tempting. But Kane wasn't sure if he could trust Julian. But he
had to start somewhere, and he would make sure he would be on his
guard at all time. right? How hard could that be?

"Gil thought he loved me, and I turned him down," Julian said.
"But if you happen to think you love me just as much, I won't turn
you down. That is the difference between you and your brother,
Kane. Gil may look like you, but he is just a tolerable friend to
me. But you, you make me burn like no one else." He grinned.
"Watch your back."




THREE

"Three hamburgers, two large Coke - the original, not that fucking
Diet ones, a large-sized fries, and a Fillet-o-Fish," Julian told
the girl behind the McDonald's order counter and turned to Jeremy.
"You have a stupid grin on your face. What is it?"

"Nothing," Jeremy said. "It's just that I have never seen you like
this before." At Julian's look, he elaborated. "You seemed
different. Like a man who had just a jackpot at Vegas. Are you
seeing someone?"

"Not really," Julian said. He picked up his order and frowned at
Jeremy's bemused look. "What the fuck is it?"

"You planning on eating that all alone?"

"Okay, there is a man waiting for me at home." He hesitated. He
was a man who clung to his privacy tenaciously. "We're not fucking
if that's what you are wondering."

"I'm never that crass," Jeremy protested unconvincingly. "I've
never seen you with anyone before. This is a first."

"There are things about me that even you don't know, Jeremy,"
Julian told him. They had been through hell and back together,
there were little of each other that they didn't know. But both
weren't so na‹ve as to believe that the other didn't hold back a
skeleton or two in his closet. "Is it so hard to imagine me with
someone, living happily?" he asked quietly, however. Jeremy's
words struck a nerve he never even knew he had.

"Can we ever be happily in the conventional sense?" Jeremy asked
back. "Look at me and Billy. We won't be holding hands and
watching `Will and Grace' over popcorns, that's for sure. Come on,
Jules, it's not that bad. Try to have fun while you're at it,
okay?"

"Yeah," Julian said, masking the heaviness he was feeling with
forced levity in his tone.



Reo Speedwagon was lamenting about lonely nights on the player
when Julian walked into his place. He hated that song. It struck
too close for comfort. He couldn't walk away, however, when he saw
Kane asleep at the work desk. His laptop - his files. Normally
such invasion of privacy would have Julian itching to bash the
offender's teeth in. But this was Kane.

He gave the screen a brief glance. Kane believed that Gil had come
in contact with some incriminating information about some shady
criminal figures, hence Gil's murder. Privately, Julian thought
Kane had watched way too many Godfather movies. But he knew what
it was to believe in something to the point of denial. He had
heard about twins being close, and he could only imagine Kane's
agony. And he wished he could take it away, if he knew how. His
hands were stained with blood, and they brought death, not
healing.

Still, these bloodstained hands gently shook Kane awake. "I
brought us dinner," he said tenderly. "Sorry I was late."

"That's okay," Kane said. "I was just going through my brother's
discs."

"Found anything?" Julian asked.

"Nothing."

There was such heavy disappointment/despair in Kane's voice that
Julian felt his defenses crack despite himself. And he had to make
things right. He didn't know how, but he would. "I'll talk to some
friends tomorrow," he said. "I'll see if anyone can dig up
everything Gil had been doing this last year. Financial
transactions, business contacts, anything. Just hand me a list of
projects Gil was doing, with whom and where and how, and I'll see
what I can do."

"How can I trust you?" Kane whispered. A thoughtless statement,
Julian guessed, from a man too weary to think of subtleties.

Just like he was. "Because I will never hurt you. I know this is
crazy, and I just met you recently. But trust me, Kane. I will
blow my own brains out before I do you harm."

"You make a very compelling case for yourself. But I don't trust
easily. Never have."

"I know."

"Yeah, I think you do."

Julian reached out and touched Kane's cheeks. That was all he
wanted to do, he'd swear. But his lips grazed Kane's, a brief
touch that caused him to close his eyes, his heart hammering in
his chest from the suffocating intensity of his pain. yearning.
something. He briefly registered Kane's acquiescence, but all was
drowned in the roar of blood in his head when he felt Kane's
tongue slowly danced in a slow, sensual abrasion against his. He
was drowning in the taste and feel of Kane.

Every curve of Kane's neck and shoulders - Julian pulled the man's
shirt roughly apart - he explored with the nibbling of his teeth
or the sucking of his lips on the tender skin. His hands were
already pushing Kane down to the floor, pressing the man down as
he reached down for -

"Ouch!"

"Jeez, sorry," Julian said. Heat flushed his face as he groggily
raised to his feet and tore at his shirt. Kane just watched, brows
lifted in a mien so sardonic, as Julian pulled off the holster he
had around his left shoulder. And the swift discarding of his
trousers and briefs followed.

"Oh my," Kane could only say. Julian was one of the most hirsute
man he'd seen. But the man's cock strained high and proud in a
prodigious erection, the wide tip already oozing drops of
lubrication in anticipation. His own fingers were clumsy on the
fastening of his jeans. "That's. nice."

Julian only grinned, a crooked roguish grin, as his hands pushed
aside Julian's clumsy attempt at unfastening his pants. Julian
didn't lack finesse - he had Kane out of them in a flash, and one
hand pushed to bury itself in the warmth between Kane's thighs,
under the man's balls. As he kissed Kane, he raised to move over
Kane. Julian didn't know where he was aiming, but Kane guided him.
Too busy drowning in Kane's taste, savoring the man's mouth and
responding kiss like a dying man's last drop of water, he was
shocked at the tight, searing burn of his cock's penetrating the
man under him.

Tight - so tight that Julian was surprised he didn't tear his
foreskin altogether in his forging up Kane's anus. He plunged
hard, testing the waters, and Kane only met him every inch,
lifting his hips until Julian was submerged completely in that
fucking hot ass.

Then Kane gave a choked cry of impatience, his hands pressing into
the back of Julian's neck urgently. He began thrusting his cock
and felt Kane's shuddering spasm with each thrust. "I'm sorry," he
whispered into Kane's ear. "I'll let you hurt me the way I did you
the next time. I swear."

"I'm not hurting," Kane gasped, laughing or sobbing Julian didn't
know. "Okay, I am but - God! Harder, damn you! Fuck me, Jules, and
yeah, I'd hold you to that."

Julian tried to grin, but couldn't. "You'll get your chance," he
said instead. "I don't let many guys fuck me," he said, hoping
Kane would understand. "But I'll let you fuck me." How could he
tell Kane that he found anal penetration by someone he had no
control over too vulnerable and too discomfiting? Why should he be
telling Kane this, anyway?

But he couldn't think, not when his balls were on fire. And not
when with one last hard thrust, his orgasm broke forth. It was
fabulous. just fabulous.



Julian was still dazed hours later as he lay back on his bed and
absently rubbed his sore anal pucker with his hand. He
contemplated his wet fingers, but Kane surprised him by beating
him to it. As Kane licked his fingers, Julian turned to look at
the man lying beside him.

"Gil and I always were together in everything," Kane said later.
"There was no one else that will look out for us. And I always had
to protect Gil. Sometimes I wonder if."

"I know. Sometimes I wished I haven't told Gil so bluntly that he
was wrong," Julian said.

Kane turned to look at him, and then sighed, burying his head in
the soft, dense curls of Julian's chest. He didn't say anything,
and Julian didn't need to hear anything more. Kane's crosses were
his to bear, same with Julian and his own crosses. Whatever guilt
they nurtured, it wasn't theirs to give and it wasn't the other's
to exonerate.



He hadn't been to a fair in years. A lifetime ago, really, when he
was eight and still living in Brisbane, and an uncle took him to a
simple fair. He was struck by the lights and the sound of this
larger scale fun fair, and for a brief second he thought he was
back in hell-torn Ireland. Then Kane laughed and the demons faded.

Kane laughed because the boy manning the target-shoot stall was
literally begging Julian to stop playing.

"You want that?" Julian asked, nodding at a glittery and probably
inexpensive watch at the prize stall. "No problem."

And indeed, there was no problem. Put a gun in his hand, real or
not, and he would solve everyone's problems.

"What are you thinking?" Julian asked, determined not to let old
demons haunt him tonight. He had been sleeping with Kane - living
with the man, in fact - for two weeks now, and he didn't want this
to screw up. For the first time he was remotely pleased with the
way his life was going.

"Nothing," Kane said.

Becoming very aware of the toy gun and the way he had unerringly
toppled all the targets in rapid-fire speed, Julian felt his blood
freeze. "I didn't kill Gil," he begged Kane to believe it. "What
will it take to make you believe me?"

"I don't think you kill Gil," Kane said. "Maybe I'm an idiot, but
I just can't bring myself to believe you do, despite all the
evidences to the contrary. I wouldn't sleep with you if I do,
Jules. And I don't know what to think. All this is so strange and
new."

Julian numbly shoved the toy gun back to the boy in charge and
roughly told the boy to keep the watch. To Kane, he walked up to
him and asked, his voice low, urgent, "This is new to me too." He
didn't care if they were talking about the same thing. Hope, an
insidious trait, once aroused was impossible to tamper. "But - "
How to put it in words? "It's not that bad, really?"

"No. It's not. But it's something terrifying." Kane looked at
Julian. "It won't last. They never do."

So they were talking about the same thing. Julian felt his guard
ease. "I know. But I don't care. You?"

Kane's answer was a tightening of his grip on Julian's arm.

Julian tampered the laugh bubbling in him. "Let's go check out the
roller coaster," he said instead.





FOUR

"Gil was murdered," Julian told Kane two nights later. "These will
tell you who killed him, et cetera." He tossed the fax absently to
Kane and turned away without waiting to see Kane's reaction.

"Will you?" Kane just asked.

"Anything," Julian answered, his hands absently toying with the
curtains as he watched the world outside his window. "I hated it,
you know. Killing people," he said quietly. "They told me I was
the best, that I have an aim like no one else. And it's always for
some greater good. Killing people, that's what I do, and I hated
it." He turned to look at Kane. "I like shooting, Kane, but I hate
killing people."

Kane didn't say anything. He just walked up and put his arms
around Julian' waist. He placed his chin on Julian's back and
breathed in deep.

"Gil is a friend," Julian said. "And I'll do anything for you."

He sighed and let the curtains fall down on the world outside. He
turned and took Kane in his arms. As he kissed the man, he'd like
to imagine that here, in this dark room, nothing else would matter
except for he and Kane. A womb-like nebulous sanctuary where there
would be no accountability, no regrets, no guilt, just he and
Kane. Maybe if he closed his eyes and wished hard enough, he would
believe his own delusions.



The man was distinctly English, tall, and handsome in an arrogant
way only the English could perfect. So this was Julian's business
partner. Kane stepped back - Jeremy Northam's face was pleasant
but there was a distinctly dangerous gleam in his eyes now.

"So you are the one sending Julian to his death," Jeremy said
simply, still at the doorway. He looked at Kane insolently, his
eyes raking Kane from face to toe and back to his face again. Then
he shook his head. "I never knew he would actually don his armor
and play the knight to you."

Julian left two hours ago. It was a week since he'd told Kane what
happened to Gil. It was just what Kane suspected, a plot right out
of a bad gangster movie. Gil was laundering money from a drug
dealer, and paid the price when he was discovered. Kane never knew
Gil had it in him to do this. He never knew he had it in him to
manipulate Julian in avenging Gil for him.

He refused to feel guilty. He had no regrets in this. Julian made
this choice himself. Like he said, Gil was his friend too.

Really? A small voice sneered at him from the darkness of his
mind.

"Julian swore that nothing would make him voluntarily take up a
gun and kill, Jeremy said, seating himself on a couch. The same
couch where Julian had desperately asked Kane to make love to him
the night before.

Again, guilt tore at Kane. Julian's face, the resignation and the
despair in his ever so expressive eyes, as he seemed to touch and
memorize every imprint of Kane's touch on his body - they never
said anything, but they both knew Julian could never come back.

And again, Kane wondered how he could let Julian do this.

Gil was his brother, all he ever had. Surely, a closure of a
lifelong bond was worth more than a man whom he had only known in
a month. A man who offered him his very life for a promise of
reciprocation Kane never actually offered verbatim - surely that
wasn't worth giving up the memory of a twin for, right?

"You must be one hell of a guy to make him do this," Jeremy said,
ruthlessly driving the blade of conscience into Kane's armor. "He
almost never recovered from the incident at the German embassy,
but he did, for which I thank you."

"What are you doing here?" It came out as a choked gasp from Kane,
however.

"I'm asking you to leave. Now. Because if he goes on a shooting
spree, he will never get over what he did. If he doesn't get
killed himself." Jeremy's voice was distinctly harsh now. "You
haven't seen him spending all those hours on his knees in some
small church or chapel every time we finished some gig. Bombing
houses full of kids and women, yeah, we've done that. We've taken
part in some friendly part time genocidal parties too. No big
deal. It's always for some greater good. The lives of a few for
the sake of the rest of the country, or world, or what fucking
ever. But he couldn't take it. He's not strong." He shot a
venomous glance at Kane. "He was on his way out of it when you
came in and asked him to go kill people for you."

"I - "

"You don't intend to be here when he comes back, do you?" Jeremy
asked bluntly.

"I don't know," Kane admitted.

"So you will leave him to his own private repercussions. Some
grand love Julian has." Jeremy lifted a mocking brow at Kane's
pained look. "He told me, you know. Your birthday was in two
week's time, and he asked me how he should go about making it the
best day of your life. Because he fucking loves you, that stupid
fool. He has changed these few weeks. Poor bastard. Let's hope he
dies tonight, because what awaits him back here isn't going to be
any better."

"Shut up!" Kane shouted then. "Oh God, shut up!" He fell onto his
knees as all his strength left him. "Shut up," he whispered,
doubling over in pain more psychological than physical. "Oh,
Julian, what have I done?"

"Come on," Jeremy said, more kindly now. "That's okay. We all make
mistakes. Tell me where he is, exactly, and I'll take care of
things."

Kane nodded through his tears.



Two shots in his right leg, one in his shoulder, and three broken
fingers in his right hand. Good thing he was ambidextrous and his
left hand was as adept at handling a gun as his right. Not as
good, okay, but good enough. But there was no question of him not
surviving this night.

Six guns were aiming at him now. He would be dead if he wasn't
pressing his own weapon at the temple of their big honcho. It was
a stalemate, but one that was fast running out on him as he was
increasingly dizzy from loss of blood.

He wondered if Kane would appreciate this. Maybe one day he would
tell whoever lucky enough to spend his life with him, "This is
Julian McMahon, a nutcase who actually died for me." He had so
many things to tell Kane. And things to do. He wanted to do so
many things too.

"Okay, party's over."

Julian's head shot up, stunned. Jeremy and the guys from their
company had surrounded the gunmen, their own weapons trained to
shoot.

"Let the man go," Jeremy said, his voice pleasant as always, as if
he was addressing a group of friends at a party. But there was no
mistaking the icy steel in his voice. "I say do it."

The guns were dropped to the ground.

"You too, Jules," Jeremy said, much gentler now. "Come on, you
don't want to do this."

"He had Gil killed. Kane said - "

"It's okay." Kane walked out from behind Jeremy. "I'm sorry,
Jules. I was a selfish coward."

"No," Julian started to say.

"It's okay, Jules. It doesn't matter anymore," Kane said. "Just
let him go, and we'll go home, okay?"

"You and me?" Julian asked, hope creeping into his weary voice.

"Yeah," Kane said. "Please, let him go."

Julian hesitated, lowering the gun slightly. That was when the man
in his hold elbowed him in the stomach hard. Julian fell back, and
watched as the other man reached for the gun on the floor. The man
didn't make it. Jeremy's aim was accurate, as always.

"Why the fuck do I always end up doing this?" Jeremy said. "Fuck."

Julian looked at the pen embedded three inches into the very dead
man's forehead, and started to laugh. Or tried to, since he was
dripping blood from his mouth. Kane gave a cry and ran to him.
Julian wanted to tell him this was okay, he'd suffered worse, but
he then decided that having Kane weep and fuss over him was a much
more enjoyable alternative. He lay back in Kane's arms.

"I didn't kill anyone," he said.

"Good for you," Kane said between sobs.

He was tired. Too tired. And in the comforting arms of Kane,
Julian finally slept




EPILOGUE

"First we smashed a terrorist ring, and now we smashed a drug
dealing ring," Jeremy said happily. "We're famous and people are
calling in. I think we can give ourselves a raise by the end of
this year."

Julian looked up from his cleaning of his ever-present favorite
automatic. "Whatever," he said absently. "Look, you think it's
okay? Not too fast or excessive?"

"For the fuck knows how many millionth time, Jules, yes, go for
it," Jeremy said. "There's no rule saying there must be a fixed
period of time before you pop the question. You have the ring?"

"Yeah." Julian made to reach for his pocket, but Jeremy quickly
stalled him. "You don't wanna see it?"

"I have seen it," Jeremy reminded him. "I have - "

"Green or blue?" Julian pulled out the ties and placed one by one
onto his neck. "Come on, you know this better than me. Which looks
better on me?"

"That's it. You're mad. Snap out of it!" Jeremy said. "What are
you doing?"

"Planning for Kane's birthday tonight. Green or blue?" Julian eyed
the reflection of himself with the blue tie critically in the
mirror.

"Green," Jeremy said. "What happened to the real Julian McMahon
anyway?"

"Silver or gold?" Julian raised two pairs of cufflinks.

"You can't even fuck," Jeremy told the man. "I don't think you
should be walking around doing this. Your wounds aren't healed
yet. Gold." He shook his head. "I see you're doing okay here.
Guess I'll head back to the office."

"Yeah. Hey, Jeremy," Julian said, stopping the man at his tracks.
"Thanks."

"No problem," Jeremy said.

"I can get it up," Julian couldn't help telling the man's back.
"Not too much, but I could get it up."

"I don't want to know," Jeremy said. "Take care, buddy. See you at
the office soon."

Jeremy hesitated and turned around at the doorway. He saw Julian
frowning comically at the mirror as the man tried on several
shirts. This was so unlike the old, melancholic Julian who blamed
himself for all the sins in the world. For a moment, Jeremy was
struck by the carefree, gaily look on his friend's face. Julian
would be okay, he decided. And for that, he would work at being
nicer to Kane in the future. He had the feeling Kane was going to
be around for a long, long time.