Arresting Behavior

by xangel

Disclaimer: Maximillian, Mack Stringer, and Jake belong to their respective production companies

Rated: NC-17 for implication more than language

Pairing: "Earth Angels," "Taking the Falls," "Bad Company"

Author's notes:: a Round Robin segment that got away from me, Proofreading by Dr. Ruthless (thanks!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maximillian was unaccountably disappointed. Or maybe not so unaccountably after all. While his certainty that he could prove the human race unworthy of God's grace had not wavered, nor his belief that if you gave humans a choice, nine times out of ten they'll make the wrong one, it bothered him that each time he'd looked into the mirror and called forth one of those who shared his own visage and shape they'd made that wrong decision with little hesitation. Admittedly to some it was what they themselves desired, but to others it was anathema. Was the form he himself had taken inherently weak? Was that why no matter the number of his successes, the reunion of angels he prayed for looked as far away as it had his first day on Earth? Further, in fact.

He looked around his penthouse with ill-concealed boredom. While he'd never admit there was anything wrong with indulging his appetites, he was ... sated. The challenge was in mastering those who resisted him, like recently-arrived angel Rachel. Now *she* was nearly his equal. Unfortunately, none of the souls with whom he shared this basic human design had resisted. Stevie was the first to protest and require a threat. But none of them seemed to have the balls to truly object, just enough to come. And as far as theological knowledge went, or true faith, they seemed hollow, vacant. He felt certain his own lord wouldn't even bother with them, given the pettiness of their capacity for true evil, or good.

His introspection was interrupted by the phone ringing. "Yes?" It was the doorman, warning him the police were on their way to talk to him. A smile spread across Maximillian's face as he hung up. At last, something new. A challenge. It's not as if he didn't have enough lawyers on his payroll to make whatever the charge might be simply go away. It could be fun to play this out, at least for a bit. Something new at any rate.

There was a brisk knock at the door.

Pulling his favorite black silk shirt and pants out of the aether and onto his body, he opened the door.

His heart paused in mid-beat, then slowly started up again. Standing in the foyer was one of his own. Same dark hair, jaw, and he hadn't even needed to use the mirror! Oddly there was no surprise on the face of his identical twin, as if the uncanny similarity was expected.

"Maximillian Engel?" The voice was the same, which only made sense.

"That's what the lease reads." Maximillian flashed his most charming smile, but the eyes of his duplicate stayed cold.

"I have a warrant for your arrest. Please turn around and put your hands behind your head."

Maximillian ignored the order. "What are the charges?"

"Murder. Six counts."

The dark angel didn't even blink. "You must have the wrong person. I'd never do such a thing."

His clone stepped back, and only now did Maximillian notice the other two suited gentleman. Given the cheapness of their attire, he was pretty certain they were FBI. NYPD detectives dressed better. They each pulled their jackets back, revealing handguns.

Maximillian smiled at them. "That won't be necessary. Surely you'll permit me to put shoes on before you take me away?" He looked down at his bare feet, knowing the others would look down too. He could have used that moment to slam the door, then disappear before they broke it down, but this double fascinated him. There was a strength there that ... Well, it reminded him of Rachel, or Gregory. But this one was purely human.

Maximillian glanced up through his eyelashes, to see the other watching *him.* This twin was nowhere near as easily distracted as the FBI guys. Maximillian admired that.

"Tell me where they are, and I'll get them for you."

Yes, definitely a challenge. Maximillian mentally reviewed who was in the penthouse this afternoon, and who might be in his bedroom. No, he wasn't about to let this lookalike in there to see or smell the others Maximillian had amused himself with today. He "pulled" his favorite loafers from the closet to the floor by the sofa, then swung one arm out and pointed. "Over there."

When his arm moved the two FBI guys grabbed their guns and aimed at him.

"I was just answering the gentleman's question." Maximillian smiled at all three, then stepped back just enough to allow his twin through the door. Yes, he even smelled like the others, though there was a crispness to his scent, a clarity the others lacked. It made this one all the more sexy for the lack of lust on the drift of breeze caused by his passing. A definite challenge, as much to Maximillian's need to acquire souls as to his cock.

The loafers were dropped in front of him, but the other stayed beside him, waiting to escort the suspect outside.

Maximillian toed into the nearest loafer, and pretended to lose his balance. He quickly grasped his double's shoulder. There was muscle beneath his hand. This one worked out without spending all his time in the gym, going by the fit of the jacket.

"Thanks." He stepped into the other shoe and with reluctance released his grasp.

One of the FBI guys stepped forward with handcuffs in one hand, semi-auto in the other, offering them to Maximillian's clone, who shook his head in refusal. He looked at Maximillian. "You won't be a problem, will you." It was more statement than question."Not at all. And whom do I have the pleasure of being arrested by?" He couldn't keep thinking of this walking temptation solely as his twin, given the plethora of the body type.

"Mack Stringer. RCMP."

Maximillian blinked. "RCMP? You're Canadian?"

Stringer nodded.

"Why are you arresting me? I've never even been to Canada. And why are you here with two FBI guys?"

The two guys looked at each other, obviously wondering how he knew. Stringer ignored them, his attention focused on Maximillian. "Two of the victims were Canadian citizens."

"So, are you taking me up to Ottawa, or downtown?"

"Downtown. For now." Stringer looked like he had no doubt that Maximillian would soon be extradited to Canada, nor any surprise that Ottawa was named, not the more familiar Toronto. Then again, with Interpol's RCMP office being in Ottawa, it was probably a reasonable guess.

Maximillian shrugged. "I haven't murdered anyone, so I doubt I'll need a lawyer. Lay on Macduff."

Stringer did seem surprised at that, probably more accustomed to the common mis-quoted version. He didn't smile, but the look in his eyes softened for a moment as he completed the line. "And damned be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'" He gestured to Maximillian to precede him out the door, then followed the dark angel.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

The interrogation room felt crowded. It was just him and the RCMP officer, Mack Stringer, but Maximillian could feel the three, no four people crowded behind the one-way mirror, watching. Fascinated by the resemblance between officer and suspect, he supposed."I must tell you, I find this all very interesting."

Stringer leaned forward slightly. "Being arrested?"

"No, our resemblance. I'm an orphan, you see." Maximillian hid his smile as yet again his wide-ranging interests proved advantageous. It wasn't only the Pirate King who had a susceptibility to orphans; Stringer's eyes had softened just a little.

"One of those inexplicable coincidences, that's all. I've already asked my parents about the possibility of siblings, given the investigation. They assured me that my sister and I were their only children. Not even a miscarriage to leave the door of possibility open." Stringer straightened up in his chair and met Maximillian's eyes. "Tell me, why do you do it?"

A thousand possible answers flitted through his head before Maximillian came up with ones that wouldn't push too many buttons with the watchers. "Look like you? No idea. Wear black? It saves on dry cleaning bills. Live here in New York? Best city on the planet for people watching."

"Kill."

"I don't do that. It's one of my rules. I don't kill and I don't fuck ... women." He licked his lips, gaze locked on Stringer's face, looking for any reaction.

Amusement. Damn him. Stringer found him amusing!

"How sad for you," Stringer said with a faint smile.

Starting to enjoy the verbal sword fight with such a worthy opponent, Maximillian riposted with, "And you enjoy killing?"

Stringer's face locked down as if frozen, but he answered anyway. "Not particularly."

"Ah, so you have. In the line of duty?"

"Yes."

"And obviously a Board of Inquiry considered it justified, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

Stringer shoved his chair back, the metal legs scraping across the ancient linoleum floor, and stood up. He faced Maximillian, face revealing an anguish that the fallen angel hadn't expected to see, then Stringer spun around and faced the one-way glass, spine straight, fists clenched at his sides.

Maximillian regretted the watchers on the other side of the mirror. Without witnesses, he would have released himself from the handcuffs that were bolted to the heavy table, and gone to console this fascinating human. Instead he sat quietly, watching.In a half-dozen heartbeats, Stringer turned back around, a faint smile on his face. "You're good. Smarter than I expected given your signature."

Obviously Stringer was speaking of something other than handwriting. "Signature?"

"The black feathers you left on each of the bodies."

Who dared! At the interested look from Stringer, Maximillian quickly shoved his rage back down, deep in his soul. Someone would pay for this. Soon. But he knew he had to give some sort of response, given the reaction Stringer had gotten from him. "I had an employee once that had black feathers tattooed around his neck, but he disappeared." Not completely accurate, but sufficient for this reality.

"Lucas."

Maximillian allowed his eyebrows to raise. Stringer had certainly done his homework.

"We've been watching you for some time."

"We?"

Stringer smiled, a change of mood that spread to his entire face. "Yes." He left it there, as if he enjoyed turning the tables at last.

"I won't even try to claim I'm just a humble nobody. I like my life just as it is, with every luxury and indulgence." Maximillian shrugged. Some there were who could and did judge him, but he wouldn't allow any human to do so.

"While you're here, we've got an entire forensics team searching your penthouse."

Maximillian's entire body tensed. Search his home? Who did they think they were?

Watching the reaction, Stringer continued. "We'll find the murder weapons and souvenirs. I know you, you see. You wouldn't have walked away from those bodies, not after what you did, without some little remembrance." Stringer was still smiling, but his voice was now ice cold.

Maximillian consciously unclenched his jaw, and his gaze met Stringer's. "I've done all sorts of things, but murder isn't one of them. I told you. I don't kill. Whomever you're looking for, it isn't me."

"We've got an excellent description from an eye witness, Engel. In fact, at first she thought I was the murderer, the resemblance was so close. But running through the various databases pulled up you, sitting here in your little eyrie, no alibi since you never seem to go anywhere, and a reputation for having quite a temper." Stringer placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, toward Maximillian. "Tell me, Engel. What did they do to you that you had to mutilate the bodies so badly, starting before they died and continuing afterwards?"

Maximillian kept a tight rein on his impulse to kill this human personally, breaking his own rule. No, he'd get his revenge another way. His way. "I did not kill any one," he said slowly, distinctly, pronouncing each individual word.

The locked gaze of the two identical-seeming men never wavered, each trying to enforce his will upon the other.

There was a knock on the glass. Stringer snapped out, "What!" his eyes not moving.

One of the FBI guys opened the door and walked in, a piece of paper in his hand. He handed it to Stringer, who turned away from Maximillian to read it.

To his surprise, Maximillian needed to work to keep from taking a deep, relieved breath that the stare-down was over. Mack Stringer, RCMP, might be only human, but he was not the normal sort that Maximillian found so over-rated by the Creator.

Stringer looked from the paper up at the FBI guy, who nodded. "Shit." It came out quietly, but nonetheless with great vehemence. Stringer turned back to Maximillian, looked at him for a long minute, then pulled out his keys and released Maximillian's handcuffs. "You're free to go. And the forensics team will be recalled."

Maximillian was almost disappointed, but instead he smiled. "I can't say it's been a pleasure, and I regret it took another murder to prove my innocence in this matter, or so I'm guessing by your reaction, but it was a joy meeting you, Mack Stringer." He held out his right hand, hoping Stringer would shake it, needing that physical, skin-to-skin contact with this one.

Palm met palm with a nearly visible flash of energy. Stringer's eyes widened in surprise, and Maximillian shrugged. "Static." To his pleasure, when his hand was released, Stringer didn't wipe it on the seam of his pants, as if the contact were despised. In fact he curled it slightly, as if holding something fragile within.

"Please let me know when you find your killer. You could say I have a visible interested in it." Maximillian smiled at the RCMP officer. Stringer nodded. "Don't know how soon, but I will find him, and I'll let you know."

Stringer left the small room. A uniformed officer brought in the paperwork and Maximillian signed the forms. He hoped he'd see Mac Stringer again, soon.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

It was three months later when the phone rang and the doorman notified him a Mr. Mack Stringer was here to see him. Maximillian smiled and said to send him up, he was expected. He hung up on the doorman's protests that he liked to be notified in advance when people were coming to visit.

Maximillian was sufficiently eager to meet this unusual version of his human form again that he was standing there, door open, when the elevator dinged and disgorged the RCMP officer. "I hope congratulations are in order?"

Stringer looked exhausted, but with a brilliant light in his eyes that bespoke success. "Yeah."

"Come in. You look wiped." He stood aside as Stringer entered. Yes, the human had that same crisp scent as before, not the smell of satisfied lust from a successful hunt, which he'd expected. More and more interesting.

Stringer stayed controlled, despite the tiredness, and sat down gently on the white leather sofa; he didn't fall onto it as so many did."May I get you anything?"

"Coffee?" Stringer sounded hopeful.

Maximillian chuckled. That wasn't the answer he'd expected, but then again, this particular human kept surprising him. It was one of the things that kept him fascinated. "Black or white? And sugar?"

"Anyway you have it, is fine. I'm not particular."

The words of a man who lived on the stuff. But given the air of weariness about him, Maximillian guessed that when it was available, Stringer took it with cream, no sugar. Long as it was real cream, not that powdered abomination not even Maximillian's lord would touch.

A short time later, he brought a tray into the living room, having had to wait in the kitchen, fingers drumming on his thighs, to make it appear he'd done this the conventional, human way.

He set the tray down, and Stringer released a sigh of pure pleasure at the sight of the croissants and the pitcher of real cream.

The resulting coffee was paler than cafe au lait, being nearly white. But despite his obvious need for caffeine, Stringer politely waited until Maximillian had his cup prepared and had relaxed back in his club chair, angled toward the sofa.

Half-a-cup and an almond croissant later, having chosen almond over chocolate, Stringer apologized for his bad manners, and told Maximillian what had happened.

"We found him. If I didn't trust my parents absolutely, I'd swear we were triplets, he was that identical."

Maximillian forbore mentioning just how many of the basic genotype he had encountered and fucked over the past few months.

"Turns out the reason we couldn't find him in any database wasn't because this was his first crime spree, but because he was Company." At Maximillian's raised eyebrows, Stringer explained, "CIA. He had been an assistant for a former CIA Covert Operations specialist when she returned to the fold, and he joined her in the hallowed halls of Langley. After she got mixed up in a really messy operation that included being forced to kill her partner, she went nuts and that's when Jake began his climb within the Company."

Stringer gulped the rest of his cup of coffee, and the moment he set it down, Maximillian refilled it with precisely the same amounts of both coffee and cream.

"Working with her, and at her mercy for so long apparently did something to him, and he cracked. Kept up the covert work, but wherever he was, women disappeared. It wasn't until a local police officer in Vancouver brought it to the attention of the RCMP who checked with the Interpol files that we found the pattern of black feathers scattered across the globe." Stringer paused and sipped from the refilled cup.

"At the time, your activities certainly were suspicious, including your tendency to disappear into this place for days at a time, time when you could easily have sneaked out and gone elsewhere to avoid soiling your own nest."

Maximillian nodded. "It does have a certain logic."

"Thanks. I apologize. We were so sure it had to be you, especially given the witness' description."

"Since you knew it wasn't you." Maximillian smiled at his double, the charm full-on.

Stringer flashed him a tired grin. "Exactly."

Maximillian re-filled his own cup, and when he looked back up, Stringer was leaning back on the sofa, eyes closed.

"Mac?" Maximillian asked softly, not wanting to wake him if he was truly asleep.

Stringer's eyes opened, but he stayed relaxed. "Sorry. I didn't know how soon I'd have to go out on the next assignment and wanted to make sure I kept my word in person."

"Not many would do that."

"I have my rules, just as you do."

"So, what are yours?"

"Oh, the usual."

"Trust me, Mack Stringer, there is nothing usual about you."

"Did I mention that as interesting as it would be, seeing if you responded to the same stimuli I do, I'm both too tired and I'm engaged?""Tired, I'd rather guessed. Engaged? Not married, though?"

Stringer sighed and pulled himself away from the comfort of the down-filled cushions to sit up straight and face his host. "An engagement is a promise. I don't break my promises."

"You're so law-abiding."

"Yes."

Maximillian relaxed back in his chair and eyed his guest over his cup. Stringer looked more awake than when he'd arrived at least. Between the fresh-ground Kenya AA coffee, and the conversation, his eyelids were staying open.

"So, what are those rules of yours, other than keeping your promises."

"That's the first and foremost one. It may sound absurd, but it's what my soul requires. Honesty with myself, which means keeping my word. Doesn't prevent me from conning suspects when I have to, but I work hard never to tell them outright lies. It's simply wrong. It ... hurts."

Maximillian took another sip of his coffee to hide his grimace. Gregory would love this one. "So, tell me about your fiancée."

Stringer smiled, his whole face seeming to light up. "She's incredible. Only comes up to my shoulder unless she's wearing heels, but she's tougher than I am. And all woman too. Not in a frilly way, but in a grab you, handcuff you, and have her way with you, kind." He paused with a reminiscent grin, then continued. "She's a private investigator just across the border near Niagara Falls. She turned me down time after time, until I realized that my ambitions included her, not just reaching Sergeant before I hit thirty."

"So when's the wedding?" Maximillian had to work to keep any hint of jealousy from his voice. Besides, he was what he was, and liked it. He had no time or need for the kind of happiness Stringer obviously shared; Maximillian had his own ambitions, proving Lucifer was right and returning to being one family of angels.

In fact... Maximillian set his cup down, got up, and moved over to sit beside Stringer on the sofa. He had a job to do, and if he could convince everyone that this one too was unworthy, it would be worth more than all the others put together. "How long has it been since you've seen her?"

Stringer carefully put his cup back on the tray, and stood up, getting away from Maximillian. "Too long." He turned to look at Maximillian, who stretched out across the warm spot Stringer's body had left on the white leather, knowing he looked like sin personified in the same black silk shirt and pants he'd worn when arrested. To add to the impression, he made his shoes quietly vanish, leaving him barefoot.

Stringer noticed, and took a step away. "Your name. Did you know it means angel in German?"

Maximillian slowly rose to his feet. "Yes, I know. In fact, with my first name? It means Great Angel."

As if to himself, Stringer whispered, "A dark archangel." His gaze snapped back to Maximillian. "But you're human, not demon. You live here, you eat, you have sex, you feel human."

Maximillian took a step closer. "Want to know just how human I feel?" Another step. "Or what it's like to fuck an angel?"

Stringer shook his head, reinforcing his words. "No, I don't." He looked Maximillian up and down. "You probably can control who you look like, if I remember properly. So why choose to look like this?" He gestured towards himself.

Maximillian laughed, the full-throated laugh he only used when he had nothing to hide, nothing to pretend. "Why not?" He took another step forward. "You have no idea just how attractive this form is, do you? The way men and women will sell their souls, or at least rent them out temporarily, to touch, to taste, to experience passion with this shape?"

Stringer shook his head again, as if unable to believe it. "It's not that extraordinary."

"Oh, trust me, Mack Stringer. It is. Let me show you." He was now close enough to touch Stringer, but rather than putting his arms around the human, or pulling him down to the couch, he merely brushed his fingertips along Stringer's jaw line, from beneath the left ear, over the throbbing artery, then around to the point of his chin.

Stringer stood there, permitting the caress, then suddenly, abruptly, stepped back. "No."

"No?" Maximillian asked in his most seductive tone.

"No." It was an answer with no room for hesitation nor possibility of change.

Maximillian grew angry at being refused. So few dared. He gathered his dark energy around him, revealing a hint of his power. "For the life of your fiancée?"

"You can't touch her," Stringer said with an absolute faith that made Maximillian hesitate for an instant.

"I can do things to her that would make what this Jake did look like nursery school."

"No, you can't."

Stringer sounded so positive that Maximillian's anger faded into curiosity. "Why?"

"Because of free will. She has to voluntarily submit to evil, allow it; she can't be forced. Not by you. There are rules for angels, just like there are for humans."

Maximillian couldn't help himself. He laughed. "Tell me you aren't Jesuit-trained."

Stringer smiled faintly. "I don't need to tell you anything." He bowed his head briefly. "Thank you for your hospitality; it is time I left."

He didn't wait for Maximillian to open the door, he did it himself, then took the stairs rather than wait for an elevator. Obviously a man who knew something about resisting temptation.

Maximillian stayed by the open door until he could no longer hear Stringer's footsteps on the concrete stairs, then went back inside. There would be other opportunities to trap this one, and he was definitely looking forward to it. But first, time to use his mirror again. He might not have been able to have Mack Stringer on his knees, lips wrapped reluctantly or eagerly around Maximillian's cock, but he could probably locate this Jake or another of his shape, one Maximillian could take his anger out upon.

At least the others were far more vulnerable to his sort of persuasion than Stringer. Perhaps he should have a talk with Gregory, just to make sure the other angel hadn't found a way to promote from within, giving humans angel-like powers of resistance, such as Rachel demonstrated.

He disappeared his clothes as he walked into his study to take up the mirror once more and began gazing into the fog. He wanted, and when Maximillian Engel wanted, he usually got.

THE END

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

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