WARNINGS/Comments: Graphic description of male-male sex. This is a tag to the episode "Shadows." I guess you'd have to consider this an AU, but then I've always wanted to see Martin end up with Danny rather than Sam!

He stopped a ways off to study the scene laid out in front of him. The number of people already present didn't really surprise him. Bonnie was an amazing woman, and she had many, many friends.

The day was perfect, too, the sky clear with a few small white clouds here and there, just enough to draw attention to the deep blue above them without graying the day. The grass was green and the flowers in bloom all around the old church; birdsong filled the silence. Spring in all her glory. It was Bonnie's favorite time of the year.

He sighed softly, his heart no longer heavy with sadness, but the phantom pain remained, an emptiness that he knew could never be filled. She had, for all intents and purposes, been more a mom to him than his own mother ever had. And it felt like he'd lost his mom…

At least her suffering was at an end.

But he still couldn't be glad that she was gone. He missed her too much for that.

Jamie was talking to the Rector, Eva balanced on her hip, her husband hovering close by, but trying not to interfere. Kayla was with Richard, her hand on his arm. Richard was sitting down one of the benches scattered over the church grounds, using a Kleenex to wipe at his eyes, which were red and puffy. He was taking the loss hard, but then he'd loved her for over twenty years.

Martin had loved her longer. He'd loved her for as long as he could remember. It was her eyes he saw when he thought about his childhood. Her hands he remembered comforting him. She was the one he'd gone to with his questions, his fears, his hopes and his dreams. She had nurtured him, taught him, instilled in him the values he now claimed proudly as his own.

God, how he already missed her.

"Martin?"

He jumped slightly at the sound of Sam's voice and pulled his gaze away from the gathering funeral crowd. She was looking at him, her expression one of sympathetic concern.

"Are you all right?" she asked him.

He nodded, not sure he could trust his voice. His throat was too tight. He knew he was going to lose it, eventually, but he needed to hold it together until the funeral service was over. He had people counting on him.

Her hand on his shoulder, they continued on to join the gathering. Upon seeing him, Jamie finished up with the Rector and came over to join him. She wrapped him in a hug, and he took Eva from her, holding the baby in his arms, buoyed by her grinning smile and gurgled happiness, being with her uncle.

"Are you all right?" Jamie asked him, her tone so much like her mother's that Martin could only nod in reply. The young woman glanced over his shoulder, smiling at Sam. "Agent Spade, thank you so much for coming."

Sam stepped up next to Martin, taking Jamie's hand in hers. "I'm so very sorry," she said.

Jamie nodded. "Thank you, Samantha, but Mom was ready, you know?"

Sam nodded, but Martin couldn't quite bring himself to do the same.

"We're going to get started in a couple of minutes," Jamie said, taking Eva back as Kayla walked over to join them.

"You want me to take her?" the teenager asked, nodding to the toddler.

"Thanks," Jamie said, handing her daughter to her sister. Then she took Martin's arm. "You're going to sit with us, okay?" she asked softly.

"No, Jamie, it's okay."

"Marty, you belong with us," she pressed, her grip on his arm tightening.

Martin nodded and allowed her to guide him into the church and over to where Kayla and Richard and Eva sat. Jamie's husband joined them as well. The agent sat when Richard patted the chair next to him. The older man looked devastated.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, his voice rough, but the sincerity was clear. "She would have wanted her 'son' here; you do know that, don't you?"

Again Martin only nodded, knowing he wouldn't be able to get a single word out past the lump in his throat. He had grown up knowing and loving Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Roger. But Roger had died of a heart attack when Martin was twelve. Jamie had only been two at the time. Four years later, Bonnie remarried.

Richard had loved six-year-old Jamie, but sixteen-year-old Martin was another matter. Bonnie treated him like he was her son, but he wasn't her son, and Richard wasn't Roger in Martin's eyes.

It had taken several years, but Martin and Richard had finally reached a truce of sorts, their love for Bonnie making their discomfort with each other easier to bear.

And then a surprise: Kayla was born. Jamie had been ten at the time, and Martin twenty, but he'd made sure that he was a large part of the child's life.

Her birth had brought Martin and Richard closer, but a gulf had always remained. Now that gulf seemed to have shrunk to almost nothing, their shared pain bridging the last remnants of the gap.

The mourners fell silent as the Rector stepped up to the pulpit and opened the funeral service, the man's words washing over Martin without the agent actually hearing him. He was lost in a sea of his own memories.

When the mourners stood for a prayer, Martin blinked, his attention returning to the funeral, and those in attendance. He glanced around, wondering who most of the people there were, and realizing that many of them were probably the families and friends of the people Bonnie had helped to die. He still wasn't sure what he felt about that. As an FBI agent, he was supposed to uphold the law, but he knew Bonnie, and if she was doing something, it was because she believed in it, one-hundred and ten percent.

Having seen how Bonnie had suffered at the end, he could easily imagine someone in that kind of pain wanting to put an end to it. And he could understand how someone like Bonnie, whose heart was as big as they came, would want to help them. That was also why she had been growing marijuana in her hothouse.

Even as she lay dying, her thoughts had turned to others. Bonnie had begged him to make sure that no one but herself got into any trouble for the marijuana, or the mercy killings, and Martin had made certain that his official report did just that. He'd worried that Sam might not go along with it, but she'd simply read over the report and then signed it without comment.

He reached up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. It seemed impossible that he'd never see her again, never talk to her, hug her…

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. To distract himself he glanced around at the other mourners. To his surprise, he saw Jack, Vivian, and Danny sitting with Sam at the back of the crowd. Danny noticed him first and, after crossing himself at the end of a prayer, offered him a sympathetic, supportive nod and smile.

Martin found himself responding in kind. Jack's response was almost identical to Danny's, and Vivian's delivered with watery eyes. He hadn't expected that from his teammates, but he thought now that maybe he should have. He nodded to them all, hoping it conveyed some of the gratitude he felt for their support. He needed it, he knew, more than they might realize.

The door at the rear of the church opened, capturing his attention, and his gaze slipped away from his teammates to his mother and father. Shit.

Martin watched as Victor and his mother made their way inside, fashionably late, as usual. They found the only empty seats next to the other FBI agents. Victor and Jack exchanged a terse greeting, Malone's gaze remaining on the Rector. That won him a scowl from the AD and a softly exhaled snort from Martin. Jack and his father had an honest deeply held dislike for one another – and that, he suspected, was putting it rather mildly.

Victor glanced up, catching Martin's gaze and gesturing for his son to join him, but Martin felt Jamie's fingers close around his bicep again. She leaned in next to him and whispered, "Stay here, Marty. This is where you belong. Please?"

He turned to look at her, a little surprised by the anger in her eyes. "Jamie–" he started in a whisper.

"Mom always thought of you as her son, Marty. You're her oldest child. You belong with us."

He smiled down at her, his eyes filling with tears, and he nodded. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, turning his attention to what the Rector was saying. He didn't glance back at his parents again until the service was over.

And, when it was, the Rector stepped over to Bonnie's family with a silver tray on which sat four small clay pots. "Jamie?" the man said, turning over the next part of the service to her.

The young woman took the tray and stood in front of her mother's family and friends. After a deep breath he turned slightly and spoke directly to her family. "Mom made these pots about two months ago. She had a feeling things weren't going to go well for her and she wanted to make them by hand before she got too weak."

She picked up one of the pots that had been painted green and covered with red and pink hearts, and handed it to Richard. "She said she thought it was a little silly, but that whenever she thought about you, all she could come up with were hearts," she told him. "She loved you so much…"

Richard nodded, accepting the small pot that contained a quarter of his wife's ashes. Tears streamed down his face.

Jamie looked at Martin next. "This one is yours, Marty," she said, handing him the one that was painted blue and had a series of runes on it. "Mom said the color reminded her of your eyes," Jamie explained. "And the runes are all the things she associated with you – strength, honor, love… I have a note that explains it all for you."

Martin took the clay pot, his own tears dangerously close to spilling.

"This one is mine," Jamie said, picking up one a yellow one that had been decorated with kittens, flowers, and bumblebees. She handed it to her husband to hold, Eva immediately reaching out to touch it. "She wanted to show me how much we shared in common, how close we were…" Her voice caught and she had to stop for a moment. "Sorry," she apologized to everyone as she squared her shoulders.

Jamie handed the last pot to Kayla. It was painted white and had angels, dogs and tiny microscopes on it. Around the top were beautiful swirls of purple and blue color. "Kayla, you know she always thought you were her own personal miracle, a gift from God. And she loved the fact that you want to be a veterinarian, but the swirls at the top are supposed to represent all the hopes and dreams that are still unformed in your life. She wanted you to know that, even if she can't be here with you, she'll always be with you in spirit, all of your life."

The teenager took the clay pot, sniffling as she did. "I know that," she said.

Jamie paused to take a deep breath and wipe away her own tears. "Mom wanted each of us to take a portion of her ashes and scatter them someplace that means something special to us. She said she didn't want to be trapped in the ground – that she'd felt trapped by her cancer for long enough already. This way she can ride the wind or the water, or embrace the earth. She wanted her body to be as free as her spirit is now. And even though I know she's free in heaven now, I'm really, really going to miss her." And with that the young woman sat down and began to weep.

Martin slipped his arm around her back and pulled her to him, letting her cry softly against his shoulder.

The Rector took over again, bringing the service to an end, and telling everyone present that Bonnie had asked him, on his last visit to see her, to ask them if they would all make themselves a promise: to love as well as they could, for as long as they could.

The service completed, the mourners rose and filed out past the family, everyone expressing their love and gratitude for a life that had truly had been blessed to have Bonnie a part of it.

Jack, Sam, Danny and Vivian came at the end.

"She was an amazing woman," Sam said. "I wish I could have known her better."

"Thank you for all your help, Samantha," Jamie said, reaching out to take Sam's hands. "Have you called your mom?"

The agent's cheeks colored slightly. "No, not yet, but I think I'm going to fix that today."

"Good," Jamie said, smiling at her. "I know that would make Mom happy."

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Vivian said to them, but her gaze was on Martin.

"Thanks," he said, accepting a hug from the woman, which surprised him. And when they parted he realized that he felt a sense of peace. The differences between them had been laid to rest.

"Need a lift home?" Danny asked him.

"Uh, no, I'm going over to the house for a while," he said. "But I appreciate it."

Taylor nodded his understanding. "I'll be around tomorrow," he added, not needing to add, "If you need anything."

"Appreciate that, too," Martin replied.

Jack shook Richard's hand. "I'm very sorry for your loss." With Martin he reached out and gave the younger agent's arm a supportive squeeze. "If you want some time…?"

Martin shook his head, but then reconsidered. "Yeah, maybe a couple–"

"Take three," Jack said before he could finish. "Call, if you need anything."

His blue eyes rounded slightly with surprise, but he was grateful. "Thanks," he said.

Jack nodded and then he and the others left Martin with his family.

Victor stepped up. "Martin," he greeted a little stiffly, then he looked at Bonnie's family. "Richard, Jamie, Kayla… she's in a better place."

Jamie huffed out a breath, but Richard said, "Thank you, Victor," before she could say anything.

Victor's gaze shifted to the clay pots. He chuckled softly. "Bonnie always was a… unique individual."

"Yes, she was," Jamie snapped. Then she turned to Martin and said, "You can ride with us, Marty."

Victor frowned. "Martin?"

"I'm going over to the house," he told his father. "Some of Bonnie's friends are making a meal for us."

The frown deepened. "But your mother and I are only here for a few hours. We thought we might go out to eat before we have to head back to the airport."

"Sorry," Martin said, knowing he couldn't handle putting up with his parents usual games tonight. He glanced over at his mother, who was talking to the Rector. "You and mother have a good flight." And with that he let Jamie lead him away.

Victor watched his son go, a mixture of anger and sadness on his face.

The following morning

Dressed in a casual jogging suit, Martin stepped out of his uptown condo and started for the Park, stopping when he saw who was waiting for him.

"Danny?" he said. "What are you doing here?"

Taylor pushed away from the building, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "I just thought you might want some company," he said, then nodded to the object Martin was carrying.

His gaze dropping to the small clay pot in his hands, Martin said, "Danny…"

"Hey, if you'd rather do this alone, I understand. Really. I just wanted to give you the option," the man said. "I… I wish I'd been there for you, when your aunt went missing."

Martin looked back up, meeting Danny's eyes and holding his gaze. The man meant every word he'd said. He smiled, his eyes filling slightly. What had he done to end up with friends like this? Then he nodded and said, "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks."

"No problem, m'man," Danny replied, a bright smile flashing across his face. He was dressed in sweatpants and an FBI T-shirt.

The pair set out for the park, jogging slowly. Martin led the way, taking Danny to a spot off the beaten path that he'd never seen before. It was beautiful, though, secluded and quiet, except for the birds.

Martin stopped and stood there, drinking in the beauty. After several moments had passed he said softly, "I remember the first time Bonnie brought me here… She told me it was her 'special place'… She'd found it when she was a self-described 'flower child,' in the late 60s… She and a friend used to come here to share… Well, it was a different time."

Danny nodded, a grin on his face. "Besides, she probably didn't inhale."

Martin laughed. "Oh, yes, she did," he said, then sighed and shook his head. "I still can't figure out how my grandparents ended up with two kids so polar opposite."

"Bet they couldn't either."

"No. No, they never did," Martin said sadly.

"Why did she bring you here?" Danny asked when they drifted into silence again, Martin's chin beginning to quiver. "That first time, I mean."

"Um, she, uh…" He took a deep breath and collected himself. "She brought me here the first time to tell me that she was pregnant, with Jamie."

"How old were you?"

"Eleven," Martin said. "And I can tell you, I wasn't excited about the prospect of sharing her… I guess she knew I was going to– That I'd be scared, about what a child of her own would mean to the relationship we shared." He walked forward, stopping next to a large boulder that was ringed by flowers. Reaching out, he ran his hand over the smooth surface of the rock, remembering that moment as if it had happened yesterday.

Danny sank down to sit cross-legged in the grass to wait and to listen.

Martin set the clay pot down on the big rock and turned, leaning back against it so he could see Danny as he continued. "She called me the 'son of her heart.' And she was like a mother to me… She was my 'mom.' She brought me here to prove to me that she was willing to share all of her secrets with me. She promised me she'd never brought Roger here, and that she'd never bring her child here, that it would always be our special place…"

"Cool lady," Danny said, watching the blue eyes fill with tears.

"Yeah," Martin agreed in a whisper. "We came here a lot, just the two of us, to talk… She told me about Uncle Roger's death here… that she was going to marry Richard… and that she was pregnant again, with Kayla… And that she had cancer, and that she knew she was going to die from it." He looked down, his hand coming up to wipe away the first tears that touched his cheeks. Then he looked up at Danny again. "And I told her my secrets here, too… That I wanted to be an FBI agent, that I wasn't going to marry Allyson Hyatt just because my parents wanted me to… that I was taking a position with the Missing Persons Unit, even though I knew Jack and my father couldn't stand the sight of each other."

"And other, more interesting stuff, too, I hope," Danny said.

Martin smiled shakily, grateful for the man's humor. "Oh yeah, and lots of other more interesting stuff, too. She really loved this spot…"

Danny watched as Martin turned around and climbed up to stand on the boulder. Then he reached down and picked up the pot, carefully removing the top and sliding it into his pocket. He looked around at the small clearing once more, then looked at Danny and asked, "Come help me?"

Taylor rose and walked over, a little uncertain about what Martin wanted him to do.

"Here," Martin said, handing Danny the pot. "Pour it into my hands."

Danny took the small container and carefully poured the ashes into his friend's hands. When he was through, he took a step back to watch.

Martin looked down at the ashes, then out at the beauty surrounding them. "I love you, Bonnie," he said. "Always… Mom…"

And with that he threw the ashes high into the air. The breeze caught them, blowing some into the trees, others raining down on grass and flowers. And through it all, the birds continued to sing.

Martin stood on the boulder, watching until the last traces of ash disappeared from the air, then he climbed down and sat on the stone, the sobs he'd been holding back since Bonnie had died finally breaking free.

Danny stepped up in front of him, wrapping his arms around him and silently holding him as he grieved.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

When the emotional storm passed, Danny helped Martin off the boulder and the two men started slowly out of the park. Martin glanced over at his friend, asking, "You, uh, you want to grab something to eat?"

Danny smiled and nodded, saying, "Sure."

They continued on, Martin eventually picking up the pace again, Danny matching him stride for stride.

The two men jogged the rest of the way back to Martin's building and went straight up to the man's apartment. Martin headed straight to his refrigerator and pulled it open, taking a quick look inside. "Omelets sound okay?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I have cheese and tomatoes… and some sausage."

"Get busy," Danny prompted with a grin.

Martin grinned back at him. "I'm gonna go grab a shower first. You bring anything to change into?" He stopped and shot the man a questioning look. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

Danny smiled again. "I told Jack I was gonna keep an eye on you today."

That prompted a surprised look from Martin. "You did that?"

"Yeah." Danny blinked, and then grinned and shook his head. "Okay, so maybe he suggested that I should drop by and keep you company today, but I was going to ask. That is, if you want me hanging around. I really was going to ask him about it, he just beat me to it. I've got my gym bag down in my car. I'll go grab it while you're in the shower."

Martin's gaze softened, both surprised and buoyed by the expressions of concern from his coworkers. When he'd gotten up that morning, he'd been glad to have a couple of days off. He'd wanted to be alone, but now, with Danny there, he knew that being alone was the last thing he needed right now. He nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. And Danny… I appreciate it."

Danny nodded. "Go get your shower, man, I'll go grab my bag and take one after you're done. Okay?"

Martin nodded. "I'll make breakfast while you're getting cleaned up."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Showered and dressed, Martin had the sausages cooked, omelets finished, and the coffee poured just as Danny rejoined him after his own shower.

Taylor was dressed in a pair of loose faded jeans and a long-sleeve dark green T-shirt. Martin grinned. He was wearing a pair of nearly identical jeans, and his short-sleeve T-shirt was a dark, rich red.

"Mmm, smells great," Danny said, sliding onto one of the chairs at the breakfast bar and reaching a cup of coffee. "One of these mine?"

"Either one," Martin replied, having dished up the food onto two plates.

He slid one plate over in front of Danny, then slid into a chair as well. The two men ate, exchanging small talk.

"Hey, you're not a bad cook," Danny said as he finished his omelet.

"Thanks," Martin replied dryly.

"So, you have plans for today?"

Martin thought for a moment, then said, "I guess I should drop by, see how everyone's doing…"

Danny frowned slightly. "You want me to tag along?"

Another moment passed as Martin considered the question. He looked up, meeting the man's eyes and nodding. "Yeah… If you don't mind."

Danny shook his head. "Hey, this is your day, I'm happy to just come along for the ride."

"Thanks," Martin said, giving him a small smile and wishing not for the first time that it had been Danny who had been with him the day Bonnie had gone missing and not Sam.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The visit went well, even though it was clear that Bonnie's family was still in deep mourning. The two men spent several hours at the family's home, Danny taking care of Eva so the rest of the family could console each other. The little girl was a delight, gurgling and smiling while Danny read to her, stacked blocks, or played "pony," bouncing her on his knee.

He had just pulled a blanket up to cover her in her crib when Martin appeared at his shoulder, his hand pressed to the middle of Danny's back. "I'm ready to head out," Fitzgerald said softly.

Danny nodded. "Okay. Sweet kid."

Martin smiled. "Yeah, she is. I'm really glad Bonnie had the chance to see her… I just wish Eva was going to grow up with a grandmother."

"You'll all make sure she knows about her grandma. She's gonna have a pretty cool uncle, too."

That prompted a grin from Martin. "Glad you think so. Probably the closest thing to parenthood I'm going to manage."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The two men stopped at a coffee shop on their way back to Martin's uptown home. As they sat, drinking their Americanos and eating lunch, Martin told Danny a little about his childhood and what it had been like, growing up with what amounted to two different families.

The story surprised Danny, who had thought that Martin had grown up as a pretty traditional "privileged kid." But, he realized, there was a lot more to Martin Fitzgerald than met the eye and he discovered that he was glad about that.

When they finished, they headed back to Martin's place, Taylor noting that his friend seemed to have brightened up a little.

At the apartment, the two men settled down to play a game of chess, music playing softly on the stereo system, which Danny threatened to abscond with when he headed home.

After a couple of games, they switched to pay-per-view, agreeing on an action film and enjoying it with some microwaved popcorn and two sodas.

As dinnertime approached they debated the merits of a variety of possible takeout choices, finally agreeing on Chinese. Martin made the call, and less than an hour later their food had arrived.

They picked another movie, a drama this time, and settled in to enjoy the food. Martin offered to make tea to go with the food, but Danny opted for coffee instead.

After they were done, Martin asked, "You mind if I have a glass of wine?"

Danny shook his head. "No, go right ahead."

"You want some more coffee?"

"You don't happen to have any flavored stuff, do you?"

Martin thought for a moment, then said, "I think I have some French Vanilla in the freezer."

Danny smiled. "That'll do."

Martin used the TiVo to put the movie on hold and went to fix the coffee and pour himself a glass of wine.

And, with their drinks in hand, they watched the rest of the movie.

"Guess I better be getting home," Danny said, pushing to his feet with a groan.

"Hey, uh, why don't you crash here?" Martin asked him. "There's guest room down the hall and the bed's comfortable."

Danny thought for a moment and, noting the hopeful look in his friend's eyes, nodded, saying, "Yeah, sure, why not."

Martin flashed him a small smile. "Thanks."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Danny started awake and lay still, listening for the source of the adrenaline rush that was pumping through his veins.

There.

He rose, pulled his T-shirt on and headed off in search of the cry he'd heard. It didn't take him long to locate the source of the disturbance.

Martin was still asleep, but he was thrashing under the covers. And even in the dim light of dawn, Danny could see the sweat covering the man's face, and the unhidden horror that folded his face into a mask of despair.

Martin cried out again.

Without thinking, Danny went to the bed and sat down. That startled the dreaming man and Martin sat up, his hands groping in sweeping arcs like a blind man looking for a handhold. Danny reached out for the grasping hands, catching one of them. Martin's fingers curled around his, rough with the desperate need to anchor himself in reality.

While Martin clung to his hand, Danny encircled the frightened man's shoulders with his other arm, drawing him to his chest and rocking him from side to side without really realizing it. "Hey, easy, man… It's okay. You had a bad dream. It's okay…" He gently rubbed Martin's quaking, sweat-damp back as he spoke.

Martin tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in a half-sob.

"Hey, easy," Danny repeated quietly, tightening his grip on Martin's hand. "Really bad dream, huh?"

Martin nodded then, a moment later, his body went rigid and he pulled back, breaking the contact. "What–? What are you doing in here?"

Danny grinned. "You woke me up, m'man."

"Oh…" The expression was chagrined. "Sorry. Look, I'm– I'm fine. You can go back to bed. Sorry."

"Hey, Martin, you aren't the only one who's has bad dreams, you know."

"No, really?" Martin asked more sarcastically than he'd intended.

"Yeah," Danny said, returned, looking a little annoyed by the rude dismissal of his concern. "I had some real doozies after my folks were killed," he added sharply and Martin winced slightly. "Look, if you're okay, you're okay. I'll–" He released Fitzgerald's hand and started to push himself off the bed.

"Danny," Martin said, reaching out to stop the man, his hand on the man's arm. "I'm sorry, that was… That was rude. I'm sorry."

"You want to talk about it?" Taylor asked, easing back down onto the bed, but making sure to give the man some space.

Martin reached up, running his hands over his sleep-mussed hair. "It doesn't make a lot of sense… My dream, I mean."

"Do they ever?" Danny asked him with an amused snort. "One time I dreamed I was eating ice cream while I was riding on a flying elephant that was circling the Empire State building… I was waiting for permission to land."

There was a beat and then Martin chuffed softly and chuckled . "Okay, now that's just plain weird. You see a therapist?"

"Naw, just got some more sleep. That was after a case that lasted for thirty-seven hours straight."

"I was dreaming about Bonnie," Martin admitted softly. "She was asking me to help her end her life, but she was in prison, on death row, for helping those other people to die… My father was trying to get a court injunction so she wouldn't be put to death, so she'd suffer more, and Jack was investigating him for it… Hell, none of it really made any sense."

"Hey, Martin, come on, cut yourself some slack, okay? You just went through hell. The dreams are probably going to be a little weird, a little nasty for a while. It's normal."

Martin nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. I just hate dreams like that… I was caught right in the middle of it and I couldn't get anyone to listen to me, and– Man, listen to me… It doesn't really matter. It's not like it's supposed to make any sense, right?"

"Right."

"I just wanted to help her, but I couldn't… Just like I couldn't–" Martin stopped abruptly, wiping a trembling hand across his face to remove the beads of sweat that had broken out on his forehead and upper lip.

"Hey, don't go there," Danny admonished him softly. "You did everything you could. You found her."

He looked at the man. "Danny, I'm not sure she wanted to be found," he said softly. "She died a horrible, painful death… She was helping people escape that fate, and I condemned her to it when I found her."

"Did she tell you she wanted to die?"

Martin shook his head. "No, but she knew that once she was in the hospital, she didn't have any more options… To be honest, I was afraid to ask her what she really wanted…"

Martin started to shake and Danny reached out, gripping the man's shoulder. "It was just a dream."

"Yeah, I know that," Martin snapped, his arm coming up to shrug off Danny's touch. He was immediately sorry for the harsh tone and the flash of pain it sent racing over Taylor's face. "I'm sorry, Danny…"

The agent nodded, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Look, I know it hurts when you lose someone you love, and she might as well have been your mother. You want to know you did everything she wanted but, Martin, from everything I've heard about her, she would've told you if she wasn't happy, if she'd wanted it to be different. Right?"

Martin thought for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah… Yeah, I think she would have. Bonnie never backed down, or gave up…"

"Then you know you did everything you could. She loved you, Martin, that's all you have to remember."

"Yeah…" Martin sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "It's funny, you'd think in our line of work I'd know that life's fragile, but I have to tell you, I just never thought about being without her in my life… Pretty stupid, huh?"

"No," Danny said softly. "No, it's not stupid. I only wish it was true."

Martin nodded. "Look, I'll be fine… Why don't you head on back to bed?"

"Okay," Danny agreed, standing. He paused, looking down at the man and wondered why he wanted to each out and pull him into a hug. Probably the pain he could see in those blue eyes. "If you need me, you know where to find me," he said on his way out.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Martin woke once more out of a nightmare a couple of hours later only to find Danny there to comfort him again. Taylor had him lie down, and he'd drifted back to sleep, even though he'd planned to get up.

When he finally did get up, he found Danny asleep, stretched out on the couch in the living room, CNN playing softly on the television.

Looking down at the man, he had to marvel at his friend. The man was more sensitive and had more depth than he let on – but then, that was something Martin understood all too well. He also had to admit that Danny was a damn good looking man.

Martin felt a shudder pass through him, the sudden attraction he felt surprising and scaring him at the same time. The almost palatable desire to reach out and touch the man's face drove him to take a step back. Where the hell are these feelings coming from? It's crazy! It's wrong!

He turned and stalked off to the kitchen. Time for some hot coffee, Marty, he told himself. You need to wake up!

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Danny lay quietly, sensing rather than seeing Martin's appraisal of him. He could imagine how the man looked, standing over him in those faded jeans and T-shirt. His light brown hair would still be disheveled from sleep, and his blue eyes would be a little droopy… What the hell?

The Cuban roughly shoved the thoughts away. Jesus, that's all I need, Fitz finding out I think he's good looking. Christ!

What am I thinking here? I must be getting sick, running a fever!

He listened to the man's breathing as it went slightly erratic, matching his own, but then Martin moved swiftly off in the direction of the kitchen.

Danny stayed put, listening as Martin began preparing a late breakfast and the strong aroma of coffee was soon drowned out by that of frying bacon. His stomach rumbled and he sat up and stretched before standing and padding silently into the large kitchen.

Martin was standing at the stove, working on the bacon.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Martin heard Danny enter the kitchen. "This'll be done in a few minutes," he said. "Grab yourself some coffee."

"Smells good," Danny said, ignoring the suggestion and moving up behind his coworker and resting his hands on Martin's shoulders. "Feeling–? Jesus, Harvard, relax." He began to rub against the corded muscles he could feel under his hands.

"I am relaxed," Martin said through nearly gritted teeth.

"Yeah? If that's what you call 'relaxed,' I'd hate to see you all tense." He continued rubbing with slow, strong strokes across the top of the man's shoulders and along his collarbones. He felt Martin shiver. "You cold?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Martin said a little thickly, refusing to admit that it was the man's touch that was making his body tremble. "I'll, uh, turn up the heater. Can you watch the bacon for a minute?"

"Sure," Danny agreed, allowing Martin to slip away. He smiled and shook his head. Good old Fitz was definitely out of practice when it came to a little physical closeness. But then, so am I, he thought. Man, it felt good to be able to reach out and touch someone like that.

Martin came back. "Here, let me get that onto a plate."

Danny stepped aside and watched as Martin deftly removed the thick strips from the frying pan, laying them out on a paper towel-covered plate so the extra grease would be absorbed. When he finished, he laid the tongs aside and started to reach for the plate, to carry it to the counter, but Danny stopped him by reaching out and taking hold of his wrist.

Their eyes met, Martin's questioning and uncertain. Danny gently pulled the man into a tentative hug. At first Martin didn't respond, enduring the embrace with stiff stubbornness but, after a moment, Danny felt him relax and his arms came up to return the hug.

"Bacon's going to get cold," Martin said after a beat.

Danny chuckled. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Hungry?"

"Starved."

After they had eaten, Martin washed the dishes and Danny dried. It was a quiet time, neither man speaking as they worked. Outside, the skies turned grey and began to empty, the rain falling in a steady, moderate drizzle.

When they were done in the kitchen, Martin turned on the gas fireplace in the living room and then took a seat at the end of the couch. He was across from Danny, who had taken the armchair closest to the dancing fire.

For the rest of the day the two men relaxed in comfortable camaraderie. They read, played chess, watched a couple of movies, and raided the refrigerator whenever they got hungry. As it got later in the day, they checked the phonebook and ordered Italian takeout for dinner.

"I'll put some fresh coffee on," Martin offered, getting up and heading into the kitchen.

"Hey, the news says it's going to storm tonight," Danny called from the living room.

"How bad?"

"Nothing severe, just thunder and lightning."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Several hours later the two friends sat together in the living room with the lights off, watching the lightning flashing in the sky while thunder rumbled, occasionally rattling the windows. Martin's unit was almost on the top floor, so the view was spectacular.

"Bonnie always loved storms," Martin said softly. "When I was really little – four or so, I guess – they used to scare the crap out of me."

Danny glanced over at the man, his eyebrows raised. "You? Mr. Rock-climber afraid of thunder?"

"Oh yeah. Back then, anyway… One night, there was this huge storm… Man, it was bad. I was scared shitless. I was staying at Bonnie's and she came into my room when she heard me squeal a couple of times when it got particularly loud. She wrapped me up in a blanket and took me out to the living room. She had this rocking chair she loved and she was holding me in her lap, rocking me and telling me about how some American Indian tribe knew that Thunder and Lightning were actually two little spirit boys, kids, just like me. And when they got to roughhousing up there in the sky the ways little boys will, well, they knocked over their toys and kicked them across the sky, so it made a lot of noise." He grinned. "I don't really remember everything she told me that night, but I remember sitting in her lap, laughing, watching the lightning and listening for the thunder and knowing, without a doubt, that those boys were going to get into trouble if they kept it up. And, after that, storms just didn't seem so scary any more – just a couple of little boys, playing too rough…"

"Cool story," Danny said with a grin of his own, his head nodding.

Martin dipped his head and sighed sadly. "It's crazy, you know?"

"What?"

"I feel so empty, but I know I still have family…"

"Sounds to me like she was the glue that held it altogether. Losing her, that makes an impact. But you're right, you do have family. Those cousins of yours love you, and little Eva is going to have a pretty cool uncle to help her out."

Martin flashed him a smile. "You think so, huh?"

"I do," Danny said sincerely.

"So… I guess that means you think I'm a pretty cool kinda guy, huh?"

Taylor rolled his eyes. "Now, I didn't say that!"

"No, but you implied it."

"Readin' too much into this, m' man."

Martin nodded, but the amused expression didn't leave his face.

"Cool can be isolated to particular, uh, relationships and situations, you know? But then others of us just radiate it all the time."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Martin agreed, standing as the storm seemed to have died. "I think I'm gonna head to bed. If you want to–"

"Naw, that sounds good to me, too," Danny agreed.

"Hopefully I won't wake you up again tonight."

"Hey, it's no big deal."

Martin nodded, grateful for the company, but hoping that he didn't have any dreams like the ones from the night before. Those had been more than enough. Besides, he really didn't want to wake Danny… or make him think he was… What?

Weak? Childish?

He huffed out a silent sigh. His father would think so, but Danny didn't seem to. And for that he was a lot more grateful than he expected.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Martin came awake with a strangled yell.

Danny was there moment later. "Martin, are you all right?"

The man nodded, waiting to catch his breath before he finally spoke. And when he did, he looked sheepishly at the Cuban and said, "Guess my subconscious isn't finished with me just yet."

"Another bad one, huh?" Danny asked him.

"Yeah, bad, but I don't remember what it was… What time is it? Shit. Did I wake you up again?"

"No, it's almost six, I was awake. I heard you yell."

Martin took in the man, the T-shirt and the lack of pants. "I'm really sorry," he moaned, shaking his head. "I wish I could remember what it was about."

Danny reached out and rested his hand on the man's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Really. Forget it." Martin nodded. "You want some coffee?"

"In a minute," he whispered, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I'm feeling a little dizzy."

"Ah, okay… You just wait a couple of minutes before you try getting up then. I don't want to have to pick your ass up off the floor." Danny noticed the sweat on Martin's face and the pale ring of skin around the man's mouth. Reaching out, he pressed his hand against the man's cheek. "Hey, Harvard, I think you've got a fever."

"A fever?" Martin echoed, reaching up to feel his own forehead. "Christ, I hope not."

Danny smiled. "You end up sick and Jack's not going to be happy with you, y'know."

Martin groaned dramatically, falling toward the Cuban.

Danny stiffened and caught him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. They both chuckled. "Maybe it's just the nightmare," he offered.

"Hope so," Martin mumbled into the sleeve of Danny's T-shirt. Looking up, he found himself nose to nose with the man. On impulse, he leaned forward, his lips brushing Danny's. Taylor jumped back like he'd just been stung by a bee.

Their eyes met, questions and needs passing silently between them like distant arcs of lightning in the nighttime sky. Martin didn't move and Danny finally stepped closer, reaching out and gently touching the man's face. Easing his fingers around the back of Martin's neck he tugged the man toward him.

Martin leaned forward until their lips met for a second time.

The kiss was tentative, testing and brief. The two men moved apart again. Neither spoke, nor did they move very far.

It was Danny who responded first again, reaching out to draw Martin into a hug.

Martin's arms came up, encircling the Cuban.

They scooted closer together, each fitting against the other. The soft cotton of the T-shirt tickled Martin's nose as he pressed his face against Danny's shoulder. He felt Taylor rest his cheek against his hair.

"Martin, what the hell are we doing?" Danny whispered.

"I don't know exactly. Do you want to stop?" he asked, letting his own opinion show by pressing his face harder against the man's shoulder. He shivered when Danny's fingers combed through his hair and then rubbed along the back of his bare neck.

"You cold?" Danny asked him, his voice soft and thick.

"A little," Martin admitted.

Danny bent forward, which forced Martin back against his pillows, then he stretched out next to him, and pulled the quilts up to cover both of them. He nestled against Martin's side, resting his head on his shoulder and draping his arm over the man's chest. "Better?"

"Uh-huh."

They laid quietly, both too afraid to move, but still enjoying the closeness.

Danny finally let his hand drift over the flannel of Martin's pajama sleeve and felt the man's hand come up to rub over his back in response. He moaned softly at the light touch.

Martin rolled slightly toward the Cuban so he could reach all of the man's back, continuing his exploration.

Danny's hand moved from Martin's arm to his chest, enjoying the feel of the flannel-covered muscles moving under his fingertips. He knew Martin worked out, and that he often went rock climbing on his days off, so there was no question as to the shape the man was in: tip-top. He slipped a button out of its hole and let his fingers slip past the flannel shirt to the skin beneath.

And then it was Martin's turn to moan softly, Danny's hand moving up to his collarbone.

Danny shifted to free his other hand, which joined the first in a further exploration of Martin's chest. He was surprised to find a dusting of hair there, and nipples already pinched into hard nubs.

Martin rolled onto his side so he was facing Danny, his hands roaming over the man's back, shoulder and arm. Acting on impulse, he kissed the man's forehead. Danny tilted his head back. Their lips met again, this time more curious and less fearful. Tongues touched, pulled back and touched again before exploring lips, teeth and each other.

They parted for air, breathing more heavily, heat beginning to rise from their bodies. Danny pushed the blankets down a little and then reached up to cup the back of Martin's head and pulled him in for another kiss.

Their bodies wiggled closer together as their tongues dueled, and they pressed together, two pairs of hands roaming freely. It was heady and exciting and both of them suddenly became aware of their own and the other's growing arousal.

Then, without warning, Martin found himself being pushed over onto his back. He wove his fingers into Danny's soft dark hair, pulling him along with him.

Danny opened Martin's shirt and then shoved the material aside. He ran his hands over the man's warm bare skin, kneading, pressing and pulling.

Martin twisted in response to the man's touch, but forced himself to concentrate long enough to pull Danny's shirt off. That caused Danny to shift above him, and the blankets covering them fell back to Martin's thighs.

Vague concerns over what they were doing rose and fell in the two men, but they were swiftly overwhelmed by stronger feelings and needs.

Danny traced circles around Martin's nipples with his fingernail, drawing them into hard beads. When Martin arched his back, sucking in a broken breath as he did, Danny took advantage of the moment, licking across one of the nubs. Martin's hips bucked up off the bed as he gasped and moaned in response.

Danny chuckled, reaching down to rake his fingers up the inside of the man's pajama-covered thigh, sparking another groan. Leaning over, he sucked on one hard nub and Martin's hips bucked again. He grabbed the top of Martin's pants and started pulling them down.

Martin lifted his hips so the material could pass unimpeded, and quickly found himself undressed and lying naked under the smoldering gaze of the Cuban. It was frightening and exciting at the same time.

Danny stripped his briefs off, tossing them on the floor with Martin's pajamas, then bent forward, catching one of the still-hard nipples between his teeth. He felt the man's cock bounce along his leg and felt his own prick harden more in response. His hands rubbed down over Martin's flat, washboard abdomen, brushed the first strands of pubic hair, and came to rest on the man's hip bones. Martin pressed up against Danny's hands.

They paused, both aware of how far they had already come and where it was rapidly leading them. Martin's blue eyes shone brightly in the grey predawn light, the look hungry and demanding.

A rumble of thunder shook the building, vibrating through the floor and the bed. Danny grinned. "Guess those boys are playing again."

Martin reached out, one hand on the Cuban's thigh, his fingers gripping the bare skin tightly as he reached up to grab the man's shoulder with his other hand, pulling Danny down.

"Are you sure?" Danny whispered.

"I'm sure," Martin replied, knowing that they couldn't stop now, even if they'd wanted to. And he strongly suspected that Danny didn't want to stop any more than he did.

Danny leaned forward, his mouth capturing Martin's while their hands reached for one another. They touched, their fingers quaking with half-uncontrolled excitement, driving both men toward an abandonment that surprised them both.

Their hips pressed against each other's and Martin shook with anticipation when he felt Danny's cock slide along his, both colliding in the tangle of the other man's groin.

Martin gripped Danny's back, pressing him tighter against him with one hand, the other rubbing down so his fingers could dig into the man's well-muscled ass.

Danny's lips curled off his teeth and he growled deeply in his throat as he thrust his hips forward. Martin matched the move, one hand slipping between their bodies to grab at Danny's cock. It swelled in his hand and he rubbed it in long, slow strokes that matched the rhythm their hips set.

Their climax, when it shuddered through them several moments later, was quick and frantic.

They collapsed, lying side by side, gulping in air and basking in the lingering glow of their orgasms. A flash of lightning filled the room with a strobe of blinding white light and the crack of thunder shook windows, walls and bed.

Danny chuckled. "Those kids are just asking for it."

"I'm sure they get whatever they deserve," Martin replied.

Rolling his head so he could look at Martin, Danny grinned and said, "I hope so."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Danny woke first and glanced at the radio alarm sitting on Martin's nightstand. He grinned and shook his head. It was nearly noon. Martin was still sleeping, curled up and facing away from him.

He reached out and traced a finger down the man's exposed shoulder.

"Huh?" Martin slurred, lifting his head from the pillow.

"Nothing, go back to sleep," Danny whispered, suddenly very afraid of Martin's reaction to their lovemaking, and he realized that he did think of it as making love. But Martin uncurled, stretching under the covers and looking at the clock. His eyes rounded with surprise.

"No wonder my stomach's growling," Fitzgerald mumbled, relieving some of the Cuban's anxiety.

"All that exercise," Danny teased, hoping Martin wasn't waiting to explode over the event. "Guess you worked up an appetite."

"Hmm, no doubt," the man purred. "You hungry?"

Danny nodded.

"I'll go make us some pancakes – Bonnie's secret recipe. You'll love them."

"Sounds great," Danny said. "Uh, Martin…?"

"Yeah?" he asked as Danny tossed back the covers and swung out of bed, grabbing for his discarded briefs and T-shirt.

"About last night…"

"You mean this morning?"

"Whatever," Danny chuffed. "I'm… I'm not sorry."

"Neither am I."

The Cuban flashed a smile. "Good. Now, get your ass out of bed and get those hotcakes started."

Martin made a face. "Christ, you always this damn bossy, Taylor?"

Danny wagged his eyebrows. "Sometimes I'm even worse."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The rest of the day passed like the one before. The two men read, watched movies, and listened to music. They ate and talked about their families. And when it grew late they ordered takeout – good old fashioned cheeseburgers and fries.

As it grew later, their conversation became more strained and anxious.

Martin grew tired of it first. "I'm going to go to bed. What about you?"

Danny glanced away, his cheeks turning pink. "Uh, yeah… me, too."

Martin stood and drained what was left in his coffee cup before he carried it into the kitchen. Danny was waiting for him in the doorway when he turned to leave.

"You, uh, want some company tonight?" he asked hesitantly.

Martin grinned slightly. "Company?"

The Cuban's eyes narrowed. "You know what I mean..."

Martin nodded. "Yeah, I know. And, yeah, I would."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Danny snuggled into the mattress while Martin climbed in the bed. He waited until the man was settled before he moved closer.

"Danny, what the hell are we doing?" Martin whispered in the darkness.

"You don't know?"

"I'm serious, man. This… It's crazy."

"That much I do know."

"That going to stop us?"

"I hope not," Taylor replied, suddenly afraid that Martin might want to stop, might want to forget that it had even happened at all. After all, he could blame it on his state of mind, call it a mistake. "You?" he asked, his voice catching.

"No... No, I don't think I want to stop."

"Good," Danny breathed, relief washing over him.

"But it's still crazy."

"I always said you were a little off," Danny replied lightly.

"Ha-ha."

"Look, Martin, this is… It means something to me. You mean something to me… I'm just not quite sure what, just yet."

"You're a real romantic, Danny."

Danny grinned in the darkness, letting his hand snake across Martin's chest until it rested on the man's shoulder. He squeezed and Martin turned toward him. They kissed. Knowing Martin was nude under the pajamas just like he had been before, Danny found the half-erect cock and rolled it between his hands. Martin bucked forward, his own hands finding plenty to keep him occupied as well.

They each shed their clothes and returned to their explorations of the other.

"Crazy or not, I like it," Danny said as he planted a trail of kisses down Martin's throat and across his chest, outdistancing Martin's hands as they sought to hold him in place.

"Like it just fine," Martin gasped, "but I want to return the favor if you'd just hold still."

But when Danny's lips brushed over the head of Martin's fully erect cock, the man abandoned any attempt at controlling the Cuban, his fingers curling into the sheets instead. He groaned, hips lifting off the bed, as Danny worked his way down his pulsing shaft with soft kisses that left his head rolling from side to side.

Taking as much of the shaft into his mouth as he could, Danny set a steady, slow pace to their lovemaking. Martin matched it, reaching down to run his hand from the tip of Danny's cock and to the bottom of his desire-tightened balls.

When Danny paused to nibble at the head of Martin's cock, Martin let his hand rub up over the Cuban's firm ass, his finger poking at the tight sphincter he found between the ass cheeks.

Danny jumped forward slightly, but then he pressed back against Martin's finger as he increased his speed, bobbing his head faster and faster.

Martin used one hand on his lover's cock, the other occupied with pressing barely in and out of his ass, tickling the twitching sphincter mercilessly.

Danny was coming before Martin felt his own final barriers fall and his hot seed filled the Cuban's mouth.

They collapsed next to each other, satisfied and comfortable. Danny curled around Martin and slipped off to sleep. But Martin lay awake, hoping that he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life, letting Danny into a side of his life that he'd denied for over fifteen years. Not since he'd just started college had he been attracted to another man. Now, here was another man, as unlike himself as anyone could be, and he was falling in love with him. It was crazy.

Not only that, but Danny just didn't seem like the settling-down kind of guy. And Martin wanted a partner, not a lover. He hastily pushed all the thoughts away. He would just have to deal with the situation one day at a time.

He drifted off to sleep, Danny's arms wrapped protectively around him, knowing that the dreams wouldn't bother him tonight. Tomorrow would take care of itself.

Comments

Author's Note: This story first appeared in the Without a Trace zine, Come and Gone #2, published by Neon RainBow Press, Cinda Gillilan and Jody Norman, editors. When we all decided to post the stories that have appeared in the issues of WaT zines that are more than two years old, we opted to use a generic pen name because, while Dani Martin is the primary author of this story, she had so much help from the other folks writing for the press that it just made sense to consider the story to be written by the Neon RainBow Press Collective! Resistance was futile. So, thanks to the whole Neon Gang – Dori Adams, Sierra Chaves, Dana Ely, Michelle Fortado, Patricia Grace, Deyna Greywolf, Erica Michaels, Nina Talbot, Kasey Tucker, Rebecca Wright, and Lorin and Mary Fallon Zane. Story lasted edited 11-28-2006. Art by Shiloh (shigal13@excite.com)