Magpie

by Dr. Ruthless

Disclaimer: John Woo and Alliance own these boys. I'm just trying to keep busy and intend no harm.

Rated: A Slash

Pairing: Victor Mansfield/Nathan Muckle

Series: Part 3 of the series that was going to be a quick PWP, Valentine and Eastern Rain. This is it. Shut up, Nathan. That is your lot!

Beta: Thank you to Pic for her swift and accurate beta. If there are still mistakes, blame me.

Author's Notes: Thoth is the Ancient Egyptian bird headed god of librarians. He was a scribe, a scholar, and was rumoured to have come from Atlantis. Nathan naturally knows all about him.

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

One for sorrow
Two for joy
Three for a girl
Four for a boy
Five for silver
Six for gold
Seven for a secret never to be told

There was a magpie at the window. The solitary bird was sitting, proud as punch, devouring the scraps that I'd left for him the night before, and looking at me through his black, knowing little eyes. He was the only one that I'd spoken to, the only one I'd seen since the night that the rains had come, and I'd saved Victor.

Somehow I just hadn't felt like getting up the next day - or the one after that. I hid in my room from the realization that my life had changed, knowing that if I were to step outside its safety, the weight of my own inadequacy would crush me. Mother had been uncharacteristically silent for the most part, and caring for her hadn't been arduous at all. As for me, I no longer cared if I ate -- or about much of anything else for that matter. I was self contained and clean in my misery, wrapping the events of that night about me like a shroud. I relived each moment of that night with loving care.

I could see him now, naked and cold, a perfect sculpture. My hands tingled recalling the cool silk of his skin against mine, and the feel of his body beneath my fingers. I could sense again the soft flesh, beneath it the hard ivory of his fine bones, and the touch of him against me, filling me with sparks of light, fierce joy that I should be the one to save him.

Thing was, now that I'd saved him, I'd fulfilled my purpose in life, and lacking a purpose, I withdrew.

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

Vic was grouchy. He'd recovered from his bout of exposure, and his bruises were beginning to fade, but for all that, he felt wounded. His heart was sick, his mood uncertain.

He was due back into work today, yet he felt no desire to go back to the agency. He lay on his bed, listless and idle, water bottle in hand, and thought about nothing in particular. He'd been betrayed - sent into mortal danger without a second thought and had survived only because Nathan had cared.

And that was his real problem, right there. What to do about Nathan Muckle? Vic Mansfield wasn't a fool; he knew exactly how the skinny, bird-like librarian felt about him. He'd successfully suppressed the knowledge up until recent events had wrenched Nathan and his - for Victor at any rate - fortunate crush out of the dark corner of his psyche, and into the spotlight. His attempt to sort out his own feelings was proving to be horribly difficult.

The phone on the bedside table rang, its strident trill scratching along the length of Victor's spine disagreeably as he gritted his teeth and ignored it. Since he'd disabled the answering machine he was spared his boss' exhortations. After a while, the intrusive sound died away and left him to his uneasy thoughts.

He liked Nathan. The tricks that Vic had played on him in the initial stages of their relationship had long since been regretted. Nathan had, despite his obvious nuttiness, assumed the role of a friend, most especially since his recent heroic efforts on Vic's behalf - efforts for which Vic still had to thank him. Victor was nothing if not fair, and the devotion that the oddball librarian had shown him was touching. He had been hurt himself too many times to mention. He wouldn't be responsible for inflicting pain on Nathan if he could avoid it.

So what was he going to do about Nathan? Vic didn't know. He didn't have a clue.

Rolling over onto his back, Vic gazed up at the ceiling, his forehead creased in a frown. As he stared abstractedly at the light fixture, the phone shrilled once more, and with a snarl, he ripped it from the wall and threw it through the door where it burst against the hallway wall.

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

I'd collected mother's tray, and thrown away the untouched breakfast. She'd ignored me when I asked if there was anything I could get her, so I decided to heat up the last can of tomato soup for her. Ordinarily I would have made her something more filling, but today I was in no mood to go out for groceries. The soup would be fine. I'd go tomorrow to buy food.

The magpie was tapping on the window again, and I made him some popcorn, laying the bowl out on the sill for him. He didn't seem to be afraid of me, merely surveying the offering with his bright, beady little eyes as though it were his due. Almost, I expected him to start telling me secrets, but he didn't; he merely walked purposefully to the dish and began to peck.

I didn't close the window. The weather was bright, and the freshness that swept into the kitchen was welcome. As I poured the soup into the bowl for mother, the magpie paused and observed me minutely. Under such scrutiny, I found myself telling him about Victor. Who knows what guise the old ones assume when they go among men? I was sure that he would help me.

As I left the room with mother's soup, I built a fantasy whereby the bird king would help me achieve my heart's desire. It could happen. The Sidhe have been known to help humanity without constraint on occasion, and this would be for Victor, the prince. If anyone could command their loyalty, it would be Victor.

The stairs creaked, and I waited for mother to yell at me for making too much noise, but she was silent, and I thanked heaven. I didn't want any arguments today, I was altogether too fragile, my emotions were raw and I would bleed.

I pushed open the door to her room, and called to her. She was still in bed, unmoving since I'd come by with breakfast, and I did something I don't ever do. I stepped right up to her bed and shook her.

"Mom, I've brought you lunch. Do you need anything else? Are you not well?"

She didn't respond - didn't even move, and I began to worry. Carefully putting the tray down on the floor beside her, I shook her again, hard, and there was still nothing. She was sick. I stood looking at her for several minutes and then raced downstairs to the telephone.

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

Victor had only stirred from his bed to dress himself that morning. Now it was past noon, and still Victor lay abed. He'd dressed in jeans and T-shirt earlier in the day, but made no attempt at socks or sweater. He'd found another bottle of water and retreated to his bed, there to fester. Now, to all intents and purposes, he could have been asleep, so deep in thought was he.

When the front door clicked and opened, he sighed. He'd wondered when this would happen.

As the slender silhouette appeared in the doorway, he didn't react other than to roll his eyes and sigh theatrically.

"I imagine that you have an explanation for your lack of enthusiasm to return to work?" The throaty voice was pitched low and intimate. The Director undulated forward as though she were water, flowing through the space between the door and his bedside to sit primly beside him and tap his chest with one blood red fingernail.

He closed his eyes - Canute, telling the sea to go back - and attempted to disregard her presence. He failed, as he'd known he would. At last, as she ran her hand down the side of his face, he turned towards her, maddened, and growled.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Your undying obedience, Victor. There's nothing else that you have that I need." Her greedy eyes belied her words as they drank deeply of his strong body and beautiful, tormented face. "You let me down."

"You set me up. If it hadn't been for Nathan I'd be dead." The words flew from him in a rush, each one desperate to be free of him as they tumbled from his lips.

"It was unfortunate. The person responsible has been disciplined. It's important that you put it behind you, Victor." She smiled, the kind of smile that he imagined a vampire might wear the second before she tore open one's neck and drank one down into oblivion. He said nothing, awaiting her next ploy with ill-concealed impatience.

She appeared to be content to sit and await his pleasure, one slim, black-silk-encased leg crossed over the other, short black velvet skirt riding high on lean thighs to reveal the lacy tops to her hose, cleavage shadowed between the lapels of her leather, form-fitting top. He growled again, and she deigned to look at him, red hair flaming, mouth a crimson slash, stark contrast to the otherwise monochrome picture she made, slut-queen from the alien hive.

That must have come from Nathan, he thought, and almost laughed. Seeing his expression lighten, she studied him keenly, and Vic was sure that, had he been Mac Ramsey, she would have touched him, fondled him. He was grateful for the fact that she knew better than to give him similar treatment.

"Why did you come?" His voice was gravel in honey, breaking her focus on him; causing her to smile sourly.

"I came to tell you that you have a job to do."

"I don't…" He raised himself onto one elbow, attempting to gain equality through adjusting his height. "I don't want a job."

"One thing that I know you are not, is disloyal, Victor. You owe Nathan a favor," she purred.

"Nathan? What about Nathan?"

"Oh, didn't I say? Nathan is in trouble, Victor. His mother died today, and he's fragile - very fragile. I thought you might already have rushed to his side." She rose to her feet, perfectly poised on heels that were taller and more slender than any he'd ever seen despite years worked in Vice, prowling to his window to peruse the street outside. "Poor Nathan is in a tailspin. His life is coming to an end."

Abruptly she turned and swayed out of the room, the faint click of the catching lock announced her departure from the apartment as Vic muttered a curse and swung his legs around to sit upright.

Nathan needed help? He owed Nathan. He would go.

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

They'd come and taken her, leaving behind a hole into which I would fall unless I went directly to my bed and hid beneath the covers.

Dead. She was dead, and I had no frame of reference for what would come after. My life stretched out before me, featureless and blank, and the dizziness that beset me when I contemplated it was huge - too immense for me to withstand. It might as well have been a cliff from which I was to leap. I was afraid.

When the doorbell rang, my first thought was that it would disturb mother.

My second was that it would disturb the magpie, which still sat on the sill, having followed me somehow.

The third was that it didn't matter any more, and that they could ring and ring forever. I turned to face the wall and willed the sound to stop. I'd been concentrating on honing my telepathy, hoping that my ability to shut out the outside world might someday stand me in good stead. Today was the day. The sound faded and died, leaving me alone in my vast expanse of nothing.

I rocked, holding myself together with my arms wrapped around my chest. So much emptiness sucked at me. How could I remain whole? Even as I felt myself beginning to fly apart, the bird tapped on the window, and the doorbell began to buzz once more.

I met the bird's eye. He sat, white flash on glossy black, and stared me down as if he wanted to tell me something. It occurred to me that I knew who he was. I stared. How had he found me? What did he want with me?

Thoth, the Atlantean, master of mysteries, keeper of records, mighty king, magician, living from generation to generation was honoring me with his presence, and if nothing else, I had to greet him as befitted his rank. Again, I heard the doorbell, and I knew that he wished for me to answer it. Sighing, I arose and descended the stairs.

The person outside had stopped leaning on the bell, instead opting to hammer directly on the door. I stood with my forehead pressed against the smooth wood and waited, for what I didn't know. When the person yelled my name, I raised my hand to the lock and held the catch without turning it.

I needed to admit this person. Thoth himself had come to tell me that this visit was no random event. I needed to open the door and let him in… I needed…

"Nathan, come on. I know you're in there, Nathan! Come on! Let me in."

With an understanding that was sudden and complete, I knew who it was behind that door - could hear his voice calling my name. The tears started in my eyes, trickled into my sinuses, and gave me a headache as I leaned, immobile against the door. I must have moaned, or made some sound, because suddenly I could hear him, very close this time.

"Nathan, come on, man, let me in. It's Victor."

I must have unlocked the door, because I felt it shift against me - felt it push me back as he came through the narrow space that emerged. All at once his strong, solid body was blocking my light, his arms were around me and he was telling me that it would be all right, not to worry.

That's when the tears came in earnest, and I cried against Vic's shoulder while he patted and soothed.

Vic's tall, but so am I. I had to stoop to lay my face against the smooth leather he was wearing, and yet as he held me against him, his arms around my shoulders, I felt small.

He stood in my narrow hallway and waited for me to stop needing him. His presence seemed miraculous, but I could feel his breath on my neck as he stood patiently. He was solid beneath my hands, beneath my cheek, and I could smell him beneath the scent of leather, a clean, warm scent that I remembered as my heart squeezed painfully in counterpoint.

What he was doing there, I had no idea. For the time being, I didn't want to know. I'd be disillusioned soon enough. I clung to him as though he were the only safety I'd ever known, and the tears flowed harder than ever because I realized that he was, and that he'd never know it.

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

Vic stood at Nathan Muckle's door and wondered what the hell he was doing. Possibly he'd allowed himself to be manipulated yet again by the female Fuehrer of his nightmares. Strike that! Definitely. He was here because she'd decided he should come. But, no, he realized. He really couldn't have stayed away. The man had saved his life, and Vic knew that Nathan loved him.

He rang the bell and waited. There was only silence. Maybe he was out. That was it; Nathan wasn't there; he should go home and come back later.

Vic turned to leave, walked a step or two and shook his head. He owed Nathan, and he knew that the man was at home. His bike was locked up beside the porch. There was no way he'd gone out without it. Sighing, Vic pushed the bell again, leaning on it this time. There was still no response, but Vic could sense Nathan's presence within the house, knew that he was there, within, and knew that Nathan would not leave.

Again he rang, and then for some reason began pounding against the wood, calling out Nathan's name. He could feel Nathan's presence just beyond the door as though he could reach right through the wood to touch him, and he suddenly realized how completely distressed Nathan was.

"Come on, Nathan, open the door. I know you're in there," he yelled, pounding some more for emphasis. There was a pause. Nathan was behind the door, each breath he took in synchrony with Victor's suddenly ragged breaths. "Nathan, come on."

As the door opened, Victor practically fell through it, and found himself face to face with Nathan.

Nathan's height and the skinny frame made him seem like some demented stork as he moved through the darkened stacks at Agency Headquarters, but his appearance today was beyond pathetic. The normally pale skin seemed grey, translucent, and far too tight for the slack, seemingly dazed features. His hair stood at odd angles, and he looked to be awaiting discontinuity. Vic swallowed.

Nathan stood before him, hunched and drooping, and Vic couldn't think of anything to say. He reached for the other man, drawing him in, not knowing what else to do. When Nathan sobbed and flung himself against Vic, he realized that he had done something right - maybe.

Nathan clung to him, his head against Victor's shoulder, and Vic could feel his body heave as tears came. Nathan made no sound, leaving Vic to pat his back and fill the silence with murmured platitudes.

When at last Nathan stopped weeping, tears had run down Victor's neck and inside his jacket to soak into the soft fabric of his T-Shirt. He pushed Nathan back, gently, and wordlessly led him to the living room, his hand on Nathan's arm. As Nathan sank onto the couch, Vic looked around for something - anything - he could give the man to calm him. Seeing nothing, Vic sat down beside Nathan, fatalistically.

"Are you one of the Thirty Two, Victor? How did you know I…?" He snuffled and subsided. Victor didn't respond, mainly because he didn't know what the other man was talking about. He sat, watching Nathan wrestle with his misery.

Nathan frowned. "I thought that the Thirty Two slept eternally in the halls of Amenti. What brought you here?"

Vic laughed nervously. "Are you kidding, Nathan? Come on."

Nathan cocked his head on one side, his feathery hair and bony nose rendering him more birdlike than ever as his red eyes blinked. Vic didn't think, didn't analyze. He acted, sliding his arm back around Nathan's narrow shoulders and leaning to press his mouth against the surprised lips.

Vic had never seduced another guy, never kissed a man, nor been held by any man except for Nathan, here, now. He'd no idea why he was doing this except that Nathan was hurt and in pain, and he thought he might be able to ease the sorrow he could see trembling behind the bloodshot eyes.

The kiss was a total mystery to Vic - the why of it, not to mention the how. He felt Nathan's bony jaw beneath his fingertips, rough with fair bristle indicating he hadn't shaved for a while. The lips against his were surprisingly soft as they parted, supplicant, begging his caress. The kiss continued on and on, and took his breath.

Vic had drawn away, trying to find some level on which his actions made sense, when his eyes were drawn to Nathan. Dust motes flew in the shaft of sunlight that spun through the small window, illuminating Nathan's face as much from within as from without. He seemed entranced, eyes closed in a rapture that tugged at Vic's conscience even as it spoke to him of power, of control.

Kissing him again, Vic wondered about many things. Will I break you or take you, Nathan? You don't have much of a choice, do you? Think that I can heal you? Think that you'll ever break out and have a life, or will you stay here, forever locked into the petty chains that tyrant mother of yours wrapped around you? Will this be the only time you ever have what you want?

Everything suddenly made sense. I'm going to do it. I'm going to let him have what he wants because I know how it feels to want and not to have. This is something that I can give him that will cost me nothing. I can do this, damn it, because I feel so powerful, because I belong to him.

Victor's fingers tangled in the feathery hair as he orchestrated the kiss. His mouth sucked gently at Nathan's, and the movement of his tongue was making Nathan do interesting things with his breathing. Asthma seemed to be forgotten, Vic noted, pleased with himself as he deepened the kiss, attempting to divine with his fingertips what to do to elicit more of the breathy little gasps from Nathan.

The world turned lazily, and the power throbbed in his hands, fizzed beneath his tongue as he bathed in the love that Nathan offered him. Vic pulled away, trying to regain his composure. He'd not intended this. Hadn't even imagined it. It was something from beyond him, compelling him to suspend his knowledge of himself and ride the currents that bore him away. Nathan hurt, and he could help. He would.

On the windowsill, bathed in sunlight, their glossy feathers shining green-blue-black, sat two magpies. Trance-like, dissociated, Victor turned back to Nathan, who half lay, gazing at him with something that looked a little like adoration, and a little like wonder, and a whole lot like a starving man regarding a hot meal through bullet-proof glass. Vic smiled, and flicked Nathan's cheek delicately, wondering if he would burst like a soap bubble and wink out of existence at his touch. Nathan's face was rapt. He turned his cheek into Vic's hand, making it a caress, making it as much as he could have. Victor permitted it, feeling strangely ambivalent, watching his own actions from somewhere high above.

When Nathan reached for Vic, it was at first as though he were trying to sneak the action by without it being noticed. The man unfurled long arms casually, but when he caught Vic's forearms with his hands, he clung to them tightly, agonized need suffusing the pallid face. On one level, Vic recalled a stick insect upon which he'd lavished attention as a child, and on another, he basked in the need for him that hung like incense around him. Victor worship was something he hadn't experienced. He looked upon it, and it was good.

Victor permitted Nathan's touch, and leaned forward to lay waste to him with his mouth, relishing the heat of it as Nathan's opened immediately to accept his caresses. Nathan was vanquished with the slip and glide of Victor's tongue, the firm press of mouth on mouth and he cooed like a dove.

When the hungry grasp released his arms, Victor turned and slid his hands beneath Nathan's shoulders, pushing them up to cradle the man's head in them. As he stretched his body out over Nathan, Victor listened to the moans that shuddered from his throat; drinking of them as though they were prayers.

Nathan's arms had fluttered briefly, obviously nervous, afraid to alight, but as Vic went to town on him, they settled to enfold him. Stroking clumsily, patting and touching, Nathan sought to learn the form of Vic's presence and reproduce it for himself in times to come.

"Come on, Nathan. There's joy in the world. Don't despair so much that you turn your back on it." The words had formed themselves, unbidden. Vic frowned, considering that the message was one he would do well to take to his own heart. Again he kissed the other man, seeking a greater truth; finding it in the clumsy earnestness of Nathan's desperate response to him.

The gangling body was straining against him, and Victor could feel how very much he was desired. The emotion was an aphrodisiac. He was hard himself, aching and trembling and flushed with a passion that he almost disbelieved, and yet couldn't deny. Shivering with the urgency that consumed them both, he murmured into Nathan's gasping mouth.

"Do you have a bed, Nathan?"

The beet-red blush that seemed likely to ignite the cushions on the overstuffed couch became a shy nod as Nathan struggled to rise, all arms and legs, as uncoordinated and precious as a foal. Vic stood to permit him movement, his usual coordination severely impaired by the urgent desire to lose himself in the hard flesh of this strange boy who seemed to adore him. Together they moved, Vic following as Nathan stumbled up the stairs.

Arriving in the sunlit bedroom, Nathan turned to face Victor, his desire swirling within his eyes, as he stood defenseless. Unbuttoning his shirt with an odd grace, Nathan slid from all of the clothing that covered him to stand naked for Victor.

He was more muscular and attractive than Vic had expected. Cycling had built up the muscle on leg and thigh, and hefting the heavy tomes around the library had put lean strands of flesh on his arms and shoulders. As Nathan straightened his shoulders beneath Vic's inspection, standing - perhaps for the first time - straight and unashamed, he was transformed. His pale flesh was translucent marble; his hands quivered with the effort not to conceal, and his genitalia stood out, proud and urgent. Victor caught his breath.

At the window, birds fluttered and tapped. Vic glanced towards the pane of glass, perceiving the birds beyond but none of the message they brought. He slipped his own jacket from his shoulders to fall forgotten on the rug.

"Are you sure?" Nathan's voice was soft, his touch to Vic's chest even softer, obviously remembering a time when to touch Vic was to invite his anger. Vic returned no reply; merely stepping in closer to breathe Nathan's breath, to feel the heat that radiated from him. Slowly, he raised the hem of his T-shirt to pull it up, strong shoulders flexed, sinewy arms raised above his head provocatively.

Close, so close that to move nearer would bring them into contact, Vic stood, his body strong and perfect in the sunlight, and his hands dropped to his waist, flicking the button of his jeans open, pulling down the zipper, and sliding the soft, white-blue denim down his thighs. Nathan gulped, and the tableau broke as Vic stepped back to remove the remainder of his clothing. On the sill, two birds were content to toss popcorn at each other.

Naked, Victor waited, not sure how far, how fast to take Nathan. Nathan reached again, hands trembling and palms damp, to curl them around Vic's forearms. He flinched, awaiting the blow and the words making it clear that he'd overstepped his bounds. Vic didn't speak, allowing the tension between them to draw out long, longer, and longest. In the matter of a moment, Nathan was shaking, and at last, Vic took pity on him.

"It's okay, Nathan. Come on." The hands that held his forearms slid up to curve around his biceps. Vic stood, accepting, as the hands moved in to splay over his chest, palms concealing the coppery nubs of his nipples, and down to sweep the planes of rib and stomach. Nathan groaned, and closed his eyes, seeing with the palms of his hands the fine texture of Victor's skin, feeling the firm texture of flesh covering bone.

Vic stepped forward at last, and from a stately pas de deux it became a frenzied meshing of limbs as mouth sought mouth, hands clutched and groped, and bodies strained until sinews cracked.

Nathan was oddly beautiful, made reckless by passion. Desire slammed through Victor, telling him that he was the conqueror, and that Nathan was clay for him to mold. I want him, thought Vic. I don't know why, or how, but I want him. I'm not imagining this. I have this man in my arms, and he loves me, and that's enough. With a laugh that was partly proprietary, and partly fear, Victor pushed Nathan down until he lay on his back on his unmade bed. Carefully, he knelt between Nathan's long, splayed legs, and lowered himself to lie over him.

Nathan's breath fluttered, too fast, and the heart beneath Victor's was beating so loud and audibly that Vic felt battered as he strained to ride the other man's shivering, bucking intensity. The length of Nathan, unmistakably male, pressed convulsively, imploringly against him, and he felt himself losing the initiative as Nathan began to devour him, his mouth sliding down to browse on his throat, his neck, his shoulders.

"Come on, Nathan, let me…" Abruptly, Victor was rolled over to lie stunned and breathless, while Nathan kissed, tasted, fucking worshipped him -- bathing him in distilled adoration as he offered shy smiles, warm, trembling, translucent skin, and need, and love, and longing, and loneliness. Finally, arms tight around each other, their mouths were glued together as they rocked in unison.

Vic reached for Nathan's cock, intending to bring him over the edge with his hand, but Nathan had found a rhythm, and moaned an objection to Victor's plan. Nathan avoided his hand and slid against him, slick, hot strokes that made Vic tingle. The sudden stiffening of his limbs, the bursting splash of hot jism on his belly, and Vic knew that Nathan had reached an orgasm of sorts. He felt sad, as though he'd failed Nathan. Close himself, Victor found it impossible to stop, clean up and go home with his dignity still intact. Jerking his own hips Victor came, bone tingling, liquefying pleasure snaking around him as he mingled his ejaculate with Nathan's.

Nathan shuddered with emotion, loving Vic, gut wrenching adoration in his eyes, need on his face. Vic was no match for the love that suffused Nathan, seeped from his pores, surrounded their entwined bodies. He felt limp and complete, as Nathan laid his head down on Vic's chest. Victor closed his eyes, permitting the other man to pet him. He was loved.

It was all he needed. Maybe it was all either of them would need.

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

Holding Victor in my arms, I felt at peace. This wondrous experience had been given to me, and for that I had to thank Thoth, god of librarians. I mumbled my lips over Vic's face, shivering with joy as he accepted the caress, moved into it. As I continued to rain kisses over his face, he smiled gently, the kind of smile that crinkled his eyes at the corner and lit up his face.

There was a sound from the window. I turned, dragging my eyes away momentarily from Vic's dark beauty to see what the commotion was.

On the sill were seven magpies.

End

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

Feedback to Dr. Ruthless

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