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Chris Keel's Journal

15th November, 2001. 8:57 pm.

Tomorrow and we are off, par-tay time.

Two whole weeks of sun, sand and sex! And not necessarily in that order!

I went back to my flat this morning, to collect my suitcase and pack my stuff. I intend on traveling light, just some shorts and t-shirts, sunglasses that kinda stuff. This holiday is going to be relaxed, one long, easy chill out. I feel really excited - like a little kid who's been let loose in the candy store. Sam said as much to me this morning. I was bouncing round the room, high on caffeine (or so my erstwhile partner thought); I know it was a Sammy-high. I'm addicted to him and just being near him and touching him sends me wild.

This is my first real holiday in a long, long time. In fact I barely remember the last time I took two weeks off specifically to do nothing (and that doesn't include recuperating from injuries)...well, almost nothing. I'm sure Sam and I can come up with some interesting stuff. So I guess I have every right to feel child-like.

And excited. Very excited.

Sam is too. He may not show it like I do but he has this wonderful twinkle in his eyes and he keeps on grinning at me and then there are the little touches. I don't think he even realizes that he's doing it. Hands on my shoulder, a finger sliding down my back as he walks past me. It's lovely and sends shivers through me each time he does it.

My flat was pretty much as I'd left it from my last visit, apart from the pile of post that had been delivered and was almost blocking the door. I didn't realize I was so popular with the Royal Mail. None of it looked particularly interesting, but I scooped the lot up and resisted the temptation to chuck it all straight into the trash. You never know there might have been an interesting post card from Uncle Bob in the States telling me about his latest adventures on his around the world tour. Yeah and the rest, Chris. I get very few personal letters, I mean real personal, not just from the tax office or the bank. And sifting through this lot, that was pretty much whom they seemed to be from.

Or so I thought.

But then a blue colored envelope with a US postmark caught my eye.
I turned it over in my hand, trying to think who could have sent it to me. Like I said, I could count on one hand the personal letters I get, and this one looked personal. I squinted at the postmark, trying to pick out the tiny words of the City it had been posted in.

Washington.

Rob.

I hate to admit it but panic struck through me like a chord. I was tempted to shove the letter in the bin, not wanting to even think about what it might contain. Why the fuck was he writing to me? Just when I thought that that episode in my life had been nicely tied up, back it bounces to haunt me yet again.

I'd already had enough grief over Rob and I kinda thought I'd put him behind me, that he was history. Thoughts of his blackmail attempt ran through my mind. I'm not stupid; even in a detention center there are ways and means of getting unscrupulous post to the outside world.

I dropped the rest of the post to the floor, my holiday mood plummeting with it, and opened up the envelope, pulling out a single sheet of white lined paper.

I tried to scan the letter quickly but in my haste the words just became a jumbled blur. So I stopped and took a deep breath, telling myself that I needed to slow down, that the words would say the same whether I read quickly or slowly, nothing could change that. And so I smoothed out the letter and started to read again.

Small portions of the letter jumped up from the page..."I had to write in case you didn't come...I wouldn't have blamed you...I've made a big mistake, Chris...I'm sorry that I hurt you...I still love you..." Relief washed over me as I realized that there was no threat of blackmail, just Rob telling me what he'd said in the detention center in Washington.

In fact there was no mention of Sam whatsoever. I read it a third time just to make sure. I know I'm paranoid, but I didn't want anything to upset my perfect little applecart.

The letter was dated the same day that I came to see Rob at the detention center. It was basically a sorry letter, pretty much what he'd said to me that day in Washington. He was writing to me in case I didn't come, in fact he actually didn't think I would so he decided to write this letter and send it. He said that he wouldn't blame me if I refused to see him and that after all the trouble that he'd caused me, he didn't deserve a second chance.

No you didn't, Rob.

I have to say that that day at the detention center I was tired and angry and his words kinda washed over me, they meant nothing to me. All I could focus on was that he'd nearly lost me Sam. That made me mad and I didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to understand his reasons for what he did. I had nothing to say to him. I was such a tight wound up ball, I knew that if I had said anything I wouldn't have stopped and all the grief that I'd been building up over this whole situation would have come tumbling out and I'd have had no control over myself.

And I didn't want him to see that.

I wasn't angry any more, at least I didn't think that I was, I was tired hell yes, that's gonner take a while to sort out, the jet lag. So I don't know what it was that made me cry. What was the point that pushed me over the edge? I just don't know.

I think that Rob's letter was the main factor that made me break down and cry, the past once again coming back to jump up in my face.

When I think of Rob, it reminds me of Teresa. The two kinda link together. I was on the rebound of my wife's death when I met Rob. Not a great introduction.

It's funny but at the time that I met Rob I couldn't see that I was probably just looking for a replacement for the love I'd just lost.

Why is it so crystal clear now then?

I guess because I have found true love again, in Sam, and it's made me look at what I've had before and seen it for what it was. And love it wasn't, at least not on my part. I've concluded that I don't think that I ever really loved Rob, not in the same sense of the word as when I say that I love Sam, or Teresa.

I've done him a disservice. Basically I took what I needed and then left, though I don't feel guilty about it because I think that Rob did the same to me. He used me, he wanted control in his relationship and I handed control of me over to him, for a period of time. Whilst I was still battling with my demons, when I was existing in the world rather than living. Let him control me until it became too suffocating even for me, or maybe I just came to the end of the tunnel, you know, saw the light and decided it was time to move on.

The funny thing was that I hadn't realized that I was crying, I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts, it was only when the ink smeared on the paper that it registered.

While initially I thought it was Rob's letter, when I look back over the last couple of weeks, I realize that it's probably a number of different things, all mixed together.

Relief that Rob is no longer a threat.

Happiness that I'm home and that my relationship with Sam is good. Hey, if that isn't an understatement. We are more than good - it's fantastic.

The tears were not sad; they were good - almost refreshing. I feel like I've washed away all the negative things in my life and now I can start afresh.

I know that probably sounds crazy, but I don't care.

I now have closure.

I can move on with my life.

That doesn't mean that I'll forget Teresa, hell I could never do that. But I can think about her now without my emotions boiling to the surface. I will always love her and there will always be a special place in my heart and a little corner in my mind that will always be there for her.

I do have to move on though and Sam is where I'm heading.

It's been a very stressful couple of months so I'm sure that some of those tears are tied up with all that has happened. I'm only human at the end of the day and can only take so much and just because I'm a guy that doesn't mean that I can't cry. Though I don't intend to make a habit of it.

I hope.

I feel good now, much better for letting go. It's been a hellish couple of months. But once again I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and this time it's a huge big bright hole and Sam is waiting at the end of it for me.

In a way, our holiday will be like a new beginning for Sam and I. Our relationship started somewhat fragmented and then it went to pieces. Then, just as we were slowly picking those pieces up, I got sent away to the States on a non-stop merry-go-round.

At last Sam and I can have the time to discover each other.

****

It's been nearly three months since I started writing this journal. When I think back to the beginning and my cavalier attitude, I have to smile. I was so anti writing anything let alone writing a journal of my daily thoughts. It seemed like purgatory to me at the time. You only have to ask Sam about my report writing skills to know what I think of self-expression on paper. I just didn't see the point of it.

Why?

Why indeed. Even now I'm not sure why I did it and why it became so compulsive for me to do it.

I wonder what Doctor Twain would make of all that I've written? Not that he stands a hope in hell of reading it. Oh no, this is private between my shadow and me.

But I wonder if he would be surprised at how dependent I became, how I eventually needed to write in it.

I'm very surprised.

I think that maybe Dr Twain wouldn't be. He'd find some pop psychological reason for why I felt the urge. Something along the lines of my changing relationship with Sam. Yes, I think that would be the term he would use. That my burgeoning relationship and all the angst that followed compelled me to put my thoughts to paper.

No shit.

To a degree he would probably be right.

When I looked back through my journal my entries have become longer and more intense at times. I think the pinnacle point for me was when Sam was abducted. We'd just started our relationship and then he was gone. I had no one and I was scared that I wouldn't get him back. I think that's when I really started to want to use the journal. I can remember writing that I would put the day's events down so that I could clarify it all in my mind and so that I wouldn't miss anything that might help with finding Sam. And then it spiraled from there.

And yes, I do think it has become compulsive to write in here. A healthy one I might add.

I have, at times, needed to put my thoughts on paper, if only to allow myself to see the wood through the trees. And I have to be honest and say much of it has been to do with the unfolding and, at times, stormy relationship I've had with Sam.

I've always had Sam to talk to, first as a colleague and as a friend, and then as a lover. And then when I lost him for that time... I don't know we never seemed to be able to pick up where we left off. We both slipped back to not talking (reminiscent of when we were first partnered), and bitter misunderstandings occurred.

It's so easy to see now, when at the time I couldn't. I can analyze till I'm blue in the face but I will still never really appreciate why or how we slipped so far apart, so unable to express what we were both feeling. At the end of the day all we needed and wanted was each other but sometimes the simplest things are the hardest to ask for. When our relationship went sour I had no one. So I turned to the journal and that's when it became addictive.

Writing in this journal has helped to some degree. It's been a great release for all my worries and concerns and for sharing the good stuff with too.

Whoa Mama, and all that.

There is a famous poem from Alice Through the Looking Glass... 'The time has come the walrus said, to speak of many things, of shoes of string, of sealing wax, of cabbages and kings..." It's an odd poem and kinda describes to me my life and the entries here in this journal.

The poem is mixed up and upside down, full of stuff that you can't quite understand. It has always reminded me of a nightmare, tangled dreams that make no sense. I guess what I'm saying is that the poem reflects my recent life. Which has been a bit like the old Walrus' who tells the poem; he needed someone to talk to, to pass the time of day. I had to talk too and the journal kinda replaced what I'd previously had with Sam.

Sam would no doubt snigger at my destruction of a literary tale.

I have to admit that it's been...interesting and, as I said, eventually addictive but I think that I have come to the end of the road with writing my journal.

You see I don't need it anymore. I don't need to write about my day, my worries. I don't need to write about anything. Not that my life has changed. I will, no doubt, still have life's problems knocking at my door. Hopefully, not as stressful as the last couple of months but there will be highs and lows, of that I have no doubt, but I won't need to write them in my journal.

You see I have Sam now. We are back to where we were but this time it's even better.

I don't need anything else.

He is my rock, my best friend and my lover.

****

I came back home to find Sam, well fidgety for want of a better word. He was in the kitchen, pacing almost and looking a little uncomfortable.

I put my arms around him and hugged him tightly, so glad to have found what I wanted in life. He turned and hugged me back, equally as tightly causing me to pull back giving him a little quizzical look. He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes; he seemed, well nervous.

"What's up, Sam?" I asked, suddenly worried that my newfound bubble was going to be burst.

He drew a deep breath and then he moved his hands up to cup my face. He was worrying me then, mainly because his face was so serious, but determined too. Almost like he had made a decision but was anxious about my reaction to it.

"What is it, Sam? You can tell me, you know that, don't you?" I slid my own hands up to cover his, looking deep into his eyes to offer reassurance.

"I know that, babe," Sam said, "but this is hard." He punctuated his words with a small kiss to my lips. "I want to tell you everything, I want no secrets between us, nothing unknown."

I held his hands tighter, trying with all my heart to let him know I'm there for him. Told him that he could tell me anything.

"I know I can, Chris." He smiled gently at me, "But this is something that I don't want to go over again...I can't go over it again, is what I'm trying to say." His voice was almost a whisper. "But I want you to know about it. I know that you want...need to know about Newcastle and it's only right that you should."

"You're right Sam, I would like to know, but not if its going to cost you dearly. I..."

He interrupted me.

"Chris, I wanted to tell you myself but I don't think that I can stand to go through it all again." He sighed heavily, leaning his forehead against mine before he continued. "We both need to move on and this is the last hurdle. The only way I can think of including you...is to ask that you read my journal.

"So will you, Chris? Read my journal?"

Yes, I did want to know about Newcastle and I can understand Sam's reluctance to dreg up all those memories, it had such a devastating effect on him.

So I told him that yes, I would read it and I loved him dearly and was honored that he trusted me with his thoughts and feelings.

He smiled at that and said that I may like to rethink that statement when I'd read it and that there was some stuff in there that concerned me and that I might find hard to deal with. He said that the one thing that I was to remember was that he'd always loved me and to not let go of that thought, no matter what I read.

Sam then left, leaving me with his journal; I don't think he could cope with watching me read it.

I understand.

****

Horrific. That's the only way to describe what Sam suffered during the Newcastle case. I've just finished reading it and I can truly understand why he couldn't relive it.

The pain and suffering that he went through turned my stomach. And how hard must it have been for him to put those thoughts and memories into words, to type them and see them again, reliving it all over.

I think it shows Sam's courage and determination to overcome those horrors and grab his life back that he was able to put them to print. I respect and admire him so much for that. I don't think for one minute that it could have been easy. And he did it alone.

And it wasn't just about physical injuries, if they weren't enough to contend with. Sam also had psychological pain to deal with. And that has taken far longer than the visible injuries, as is often the case. And that's kinda hard because it's those that people cannot see, are unaware of. Like me I guess.

And through it all runs the strain of our stormy and spiraling relationship.

A catastrophic mess of misunderstandings and misconceptions. I could get quite gloomy thinking about it all, but I don't think that's why Sam gave me his journal.

He wanted me to know what he had been through because he knew that I needed to understand his pain. We are, after all, a partnership.

The one thing that shines through Sam's journal is how much he loves me. Even at his lowest point he still loved me and wanted me. Even when he thought that I didn't want him.

I know that Sam loves me, he tells me several times a day, but what his journal has told me is how much he needs me. How scared he became that he might lose me.

To evoke so much love and passion in a person, I feel quite humble.

The trust that Sam has put in me by handing over his journal is overwhelming; it's the ultimate declaration of love.

I'm so goddamned lucky to have Sam.

Once again I'm crying like a baby but they're tears of love and joy. I really need to get a grip on this crying thing!

All I need now is for Sam to come home. I want to hold him and tell him and show him how much he means to me.

Sam needs me, wants me and loves me. What more could I ever ask for in life?

He is my life. He makes me complete.

This is the beginning of our life together.

I can hear the front door go...Sam's just walked in...



Fin.

Make Notes

14th November, 2001. 11:38 pm.

Nice. Backup called earlier this morning see if Sam and I wanted to go to the pub for lunch. "Sure, see ya at 12 pm, Backup," I'd replied, before closing my phone and throwing it down on the sofa.

"Hey, Sammy boy, we've got a lunch date," I'd yelled across the room hoping to reach Sam who was showering. He'd refused my offer to scrub his back, telling me that he was still recovering from last night.

Hell, I know what he means - it was good.

Sam had come out of the shower, a small white towel round his hips and another rubbing at his hair. A sight for sore eyes kinda covers the image.

I leaned back on the sofa, glancing up and down him appreciatively. He mock rolled his eyes at me, shaking his head. "What this about lunch?" he asked, sitting on the arm of the chair.

I told him that Backup wanted to meet with us for lunch, Spencer too. He nodded, getting back up and walking into the bedroom. "Sounds good, what time?"

"Twelve," I called back, "Plenty of time, and we can stop off afterwards and pick up some bits for the holiday, if you want?"

****

It was a very memorable lunch...

Sam and I have come out so to speak. To Backup and Spencer.

And would you believe that my quiet, generally reserved partner was the one who spilled the beans? I was amazed. If I'm honest, I have to say that I didn't think Sammy had it in him. He's normally such a closed book, preferring to keep his business his own.

Not that I mind. It's quite a relief to share our secret.

I'd had a sneaking suspicion anyway that Backup had kinda guessed, or at least had a niggling thought but I'd not had an opportunity to discuss my opinion with Sam.

If I'm honest it's entirely my fault. I got rather enthused over our impending holiday and one small snippet of news led to another and then another.

Backup picked up on my getting leave - it's pretty hard to get any days off out of Malone. Even though we get a requisite number every year, I don't actually think any of us manage to take them. So she was pretty sniffy that I'd managed to squeeze two weeks out of the old man.

"Hey come on, Backup, " I pleaded. "I think I deserve some time out, after six trips across the pond in the space of two weeks."

She put on a mock pouty face but then conceded gracefully, enquiring, as one does, about my destination. And of course I got very verbose about it. Hell, I was excited. Clear blue waters, hot sandy beaches, I think she kinda got the idea.

And then she asked me very pointedly what Sam was going to be doing whilst I was living it up on a desert island.

I say pointedly because I half think that she knew what Sam was going to be doing, she just needed it clarified. She's a pretty shrewd cookie is Backup, not much passes her by.

Her directness silenced Sam and I guess that kinda sealed what she'd probably already suspected. I could see her brain computing the facts that she already had with the ones that had so nicely dropped into her lap, compliments of yours truly.

The conversation somehow meandered onto other subjects, without us having actually answered the question. And then Spencer, who'd gone to get more drinks, sat back down and promptly brought the holiday up again, much to Sam's dismay as his flaming face had only just subsided. Spencer innocently asked if Sam would like some company whilst I was away.

What could he say?

He wasn't going to be here either.

Before I could think of a suitable get out, my lover jumped in with both his size nine feet. Telling our now captive audience that we were going on holiday together.

Stunned silence.

Then Backup squealed, admitting what I'd already suspected - she knew.

It was Spencer's reaction that had me in fits of giggles, catching flies kinda sums it up and not to mention Sam's description of our relationship. "..we've been dating for quite a while.." So quaint and old fashioned and very English. Bless, when he held my hand I had to stop myself from leaning over and kissing him.

So as pub lunches go it was pretty eventful. We didn't stay long after that, making our excuses that packing and shopping needed to be done.

Backup gave us both a hug before we left, wishing us a good holiday - a big grin plastered across her face.

****

Shopping with Sam is really good fun, he's so easy to wind up and tease.

After our eventful lunch with Backup and Spencer I was in a real giggly, happy mood. I think the term is bouncing, I know, I keep on using that word but it describes me so perfectly when I'm enjoying life.

I don't think that life could get any sweeter at the moment. Well, apart from making love to Sam on some distant warm sandy beach, that's going to be the sweetest moment. Holiday thoughts - lovely. And that's why we ended up at Tesco's - shopping for essentials.

Sun cream, toothpaste, condoms. I'm sniggering as I write that. Sam's face when I put three boxes (12 per box) into the basket, it was a classic and the best bit was when his lips curled up at the edges into a grin as he realized that I was actually joking. Though I think he knows that I could make good use of that many in two weeks. I mean apart from the usual places to make love - bed - there's the beach, in the sea, the floor, the hammock (could be erm...swinging), the Jacuzzi (did I mention we get our own). I need a breath...the shower, the sofa, against the wall...god I'm getting horny just thinking about it, better stop.

As I said, I was having a wonderful time chucking in chocolate and popcorn, beer and wine ready for our night-in watching TV and snuggling on the sofa. Sam was being indulgent but I don't think he realized how much I wanted this evening.

A sense of normality.

Just chilling out on the sofa. It meant a lot to me.

My life has been like a yoyo the last couple of weeks and I need some semblance of ordinariness, I guess. I'd kinda like to recreate our date too which is why I convinced Sam, well I think I convinced him, that a DVD player was a good idea. He didn't look overly impressed when I put said machine into the basket.

As I pointed out to him, how the hell are we going to watch his DVDs? Laptop, he suggested. No way. I want comfort, I want to snuggle next to Sam not share him with a computer. Anyway, he caved and I went home with a DVD player. Or should I say that he did as it's for his home, our home.

I know I have my own flat but Sammy's place kinda feels like home now. It's where Sammy is and that's all that matters to me at the moment.

Back home Sam had set the machine up whilst I'd made the popcorn. I was whistling away in my own contented world when I looked up to find Sam at the door watching me a small smile on his face.

"You ready, Christopher?" His use of my Christian name made me feel like a kid and I guess I must have looked like one. Standing in bare feet holding a huge bowl of popcorn in one hand and a large bar of chocolate in the other.

I nodded to the beer and wine. "Make yourself useful, Samuel, and grab the beverages." He sniggered and planted a small kiss on my nose as he leaned behind me and picked up the goodies. The perfect evening was about to begin.

Sam and I snuggled down on the sofa, with me spooning up behind him. He gave me a very indulgent smile when I dumped the bowl in the crook of his legs and sighed lightly. "You just love me don't ya, Sam?" I teased, offering the bowl of sugar coated corn to him.

"I'll pass, once at the cinema was enough for me." He took a sip from his wine glass before putting it back on the table and then settled down against me as I pressed play and the film started.

It was good, maybe not quite up to Sam's tastes but he seemed content enough, occasionally turning to look at me planting the odd kiss on my lips. Particularly when I got a little over excited with Arnie on the action shots. I think he was hoping to calm me down but his lips on mine just made me more excitable.

Halfway through I suddenly felt really chilly. Sam said that the heating had gone off and he climbed off the sofa to switch it back on. I was surprised then when he came back in with the duvet under his arm and a big smug grin plastered across his face.

"Well you wanted to snuggle, so I thought..." Well, how out of character can you get.

"I just love you when you go all mushy on me, Sammy," I chuckled, pulling him hard against me and tucking the duvet round us both.

Sweet.

And that's when the fun started.

Tickling.

I just couldn't resist it. The characters on the TV were doing it, tickling that is, and it looked kinda fun...and I was on a sugar high and hell there's no stopping me when I'm on a high.

My fingers started to stray along Sammy's leg at first and before he could even think about what I had in mind he was a helpless bundle on the sofa, all legs and duvet, squealing under my fingers.

"Stop it...Chris...I give up," he pleaded breathlessly after an out and out assault by Keel, champion tickler.

So I did, for all of ten second and then I was under the duvet, my fingers once again finding their victim. Sam was howling, his own hands seeking revenge and hell did he have it? I ended up a heap on the floor in my attempt to get away from him.

Sam looked over the edge of the sofa at me. "So do you concede, Keel?" he smirked, victory written all over his face.

I snorted that I'd let him win, in view of his poorly leg.

"Like shit, my leg," he growled, pulling me back onto the sofa and straight into his arms.

We were both still breathless but the kiss Sam landed on me left me panting.

"I love you, babe," he whispered as his lips found mine again. I melted against him, all thoughts of Terminators, popcorn and tickling forgotten as I lost myself in his body.

Make Notes

13th November, 2001. 9:17 pm.

"A good job, Mr Keel. Congratulations." Malone's deep voice had boomed across the table yesterday morning. I'd been in his office for all of twenty minutes. Twenty long, hand-sweating minutes.

He was waffling on about the case in general, patting backs and tidying up loose ends and normally I'd be there enjoying whatever praise was coming my way, because it doesn't come that freely with Malone so you kinda grab it when you can. But this time I couldn't enjoy. I had a knot inside my stomach that prevented me from thinking past first base.

For each and every one of those minutes I was a nervous as hell, wondering if/when he was going to bring up the subject of Rob.

The conversation changed swiftly from subject to subject, Gentern's appreciation of a job well done to the fact that Gilbert was still sitting tight lipped, letting his lawyers bash it out over the table. So much information, so many petty facts, that my mind began to wander, looking for an escape. Not wanting to hear the dreaded words - Rob Daniels.

And then it did, as I knew it would, Rob's name slipped from Malone's mouth, catching me unawares. "Mr Daniels turned out to be a little bit of a liability in the end?" I blinked. Malone's pointed look made me realize that it was not a generalized comment - it was a question and he had directed it at me.

Shit.

I felt sick to the pit of my stomach and found myself struggling to answer, focusing on Malone's face to try and gauge the answer I thought he was expecting, but he was doing a Sam. The shutters were down, his face impassive, giving no clues as to what reply I should give.

"Yes, he erm...yes sir." I settled for the short reply, that way I didn't actually commit myself.

He sat looking across the desk from me, those eyebrows rising very slightly, and I felt like a cornered rat waiting for the big cat to pounce.

In the end I looked away, down at the floor, anywhere but at Malone. I was fighting with myself not to say anymore, keep my own council, just as Sam and I had talked about this morning. Let him lead the way; don't offer up any information unless I was asked, that's what we'd said. And then only offer the barest of facts; keep to the specifics of whatever Malone asked me

If he doesn't bark then don't jump.

It all sounded so easy in Sam's lounge this morning. Sitting there on the sofa holding a coffee in one hand and the other resting lightly over Sam's thigh.

Happy and content.

Not pissed and scared.

Yes, I was scared, right at that moment, I was holding my breath waiting for my world to come crashing down around my ears.

"Mr Keel?"

"Mr Keel, I know that you are very jetlagged but I would appreciate it if you could stay in this time zone long enough to finish the conversation."

Hell, what a time to drift off with my own thoughts. I looked up at my boss. His face appeared to have softened slightly and I had to shake myself to make sure that I wasn't imagining it.

"I don't hold you responsible, Mr Keel, if that is what you are thinking." I was jetlagged for god's sake; his words were trickling through my brain. Of course I thought it was my fault.

"Though I must say that your previous choices of friendship appear to have let you down slightly. I trust that you don't have any other acquaintances that intend taking on the might of CI5?"

Relief.

The words finally permeated into my brain and I had to smile. The old man has a sense of humor and more to the point he wasn't blaming me.

He wasn't blaming me! Yes, I could now consider moving to second base.

I engaged my brain, "No, sir. None that I know of." I was about to apologize but held back, thinking once again of Sam's words to say as little as possible. Don't incriminate myself unnecessarily.

He lifted his chin up and stared at me over the top of his glasses in a way that only Malone can do. I swear the guy could patent that look. Guaranteed to quell the heart of any hardened CI5 operative.

"Quite, Mr Keel, quite," he said quietly.

Okay, that was the nice friendly stuff over with, now I sat waiting for the Rob bombshell to drop. After all, keep the worst till last, that's the way to play it isn't it? Get me nice and relaxed and then go for the throat.

"If there is nothing else Mr Keel?" Malone was picking up his pen now, his hand reaching for a report. The de-briefing was obviously over.

Over?

I was so sure that that this must be a ploy by Malone that I just sat there with my mouth hanging open, unable to move.

When he took on that irritated look I realized that it wasn't. I was free to go. There was to be no Rob autopsy and no mention of blackmail. I can't tell you the relief that I felt. It was like a weight had been removed from my shoulders. I felt a wave of happiness sweep over me and I had to hold back from letting a smug grin rise on my face. Relief just doesn't cover it. And with the relief came back some of the 'cocky Keel'. I had something that I wanted to request and he did ask if there was anything else.

"There is one thing, sir."

"Well spit it out then, man, I don't have all day." Now this was the Malone I knew and loved.

"Vacation, sir?" I posed the question to him. "I was hoping to take some time off. If that's okay?"

He looked back up from his report, his face blank and then suddenly realization of what I was asking dawned. But he didn't answer me immediately, instead he asked about Sam.

"How is Mr Curtis coping?" The question threw me; I wasn't expecting questions about Sam.

Taking my silence as misunderstanding the question, he elaborated. "Berlin?"

Again I was unable to answer him. For all the time I'd been back, Sam and I hadn't talked about Berlin. I immediately felt guilty. "I'm not sure, sir, I've not had much chance to talk to Sa...Mr Curtis since I got back." Again, he looked quizzically at me. "Jetlag sir, I've been catching up on my sleep." I said, as way of explanation for my lack of information on my partner's well-being.

I felt like a complete asshole.

Once again he gave me that piercing look. "Quite."

He looked back down at his report, "Book whatever leave you need, Mr Keel." He paused very slightly before finishing and said, without looking up, "Just go home and take care of your partner...

"...and yourself."

When he didn't look back up at me I assumed I was dismissed.

I left his office, my feet barely touching the ground, and didn't stop until I was outside in the car park. I needed some fresh air and I needed it there and then.

I could feel the tiredness that I'd pushed to one side whilst in the meeting with Malone suddenly creep forward again. Sneaking into my muscles and making them ache. I was cold too, but that didn't surprise me, leaning against a wall in a freezing cold car park. I just needed a moment or two to collect my thoughts. Rob came to my mind immediately. Maybe he wasn't such a bastard after all and the thought that maybe he did still love me flashed fleetingly through my mind.

Feeling more composed and now keen to get things sorted and get back home to Sam, I headed upstairs to Ops.

Back upstairs I called Sam. I knew he'd be as anxious to know the outcome, and he was. Ops was really busy so I didn't elaborate just told him the news was good and that I'd be home shortly and we could talk about it then. I felt good. Thinks were definitely looking up.

I had a couple of loose ends to tie up and then I was heading home. Malone said I could take some leave, and I was, as of right now!

With the thoughts of going home, my mind wandered back to Malone's last sentence. 'Just go home and take care of your partner...and yourself."

What the fuck did that mean...?


****

I'm positively bouncing.

I'm waiting for Sam to come home. In fact, I can barely wait for Sam to come home. I think I might just leap all over him as he walks through the door, licking his face like a little puppy dog

I'm really that excited.

I've booked us both a holiday. More bouncing.

I'm sorely tempted to tease him and say that we're off to Disneyland Paris via Eurostar, but I think the shock might send him into a relapse and we can't have that. The holiday that I have planned for us needs a very healthy and active Sammy. Not one on his back, though that thought does have some exciting options.

I can't get the thought of Sam spinning round on Cinderella's Magic Cups or riding Dumbo out of my mind. The only riding I want him to do is riding me. And I think he gave a very good impression of that the other night! Hell, more specific thoughts and with no Sam in sight.

I had plenty of leave and whilst it would be lovely to spend two weeks at home with Sam, I got to thinking that sitting somewhere hot might be more pleasurable. A holiday abroad would be the perfect way for us both to unwind. We both needed to relax and to spend some quality time together and we now had the opportunity to do so.

I want to eat delicious food and drink good beer (or wine), to spend the days walking along the beach holding hands with Sam and the nights making hot, passionate love. I didn't need any more convincing and found myself walking into the travel agents. I didn't have a clue where I wanted to go, just that it had to be an island and it had to look like paradise.

The young woman who served me in the travel agents was really helpful. I told her I wanted to go somewhere hot with beautiful sandy beaches and romantic, yes it had to be romantic. She laughed when I added secluded. I wanted privacy, somewhere un-commercialized where Sam and I could walk naked along the beach if we so wished. She giggled at that comment.

She showed me a couple of brochures and they looked nice, but not what I wanted. So I was more specific. I said that I wanted romantic luxury and that money wasn't a problem. I couldn't think of a better use for the inheritance that was sitting idle in my bank.

She didn't need asking twice and reached for this very glossy looking brochure, flicking through a couple of pages until she found what she was looking for. Point Grace amidst the beautiful Turks & Caicos Islands in the Caribbean.

Imagine twelve miles of pure white sandy beaches; secluded luxury villas set directly on the beach and boasting uninterrupted ocean views. Sam would appreciate the d?cor, Indonesian furnishings with batik fabrics, the blurb said. And we'd both enjoy the four-poster bed.

Carol, so her nametag said, organized the whole trip within forty minutes. When filling out the booking form I noticed that she'd written Miss Sam Curtis. I had to smile. When I pointed out that it was Mr. she blushed beautifully and said that Sam was a very lucky man.

Sweet, but I think that I am the lucky one.

We're flying out this Friday, 1st class naturally!

It's going to be fantastic.

Sam is due home any minute now and I'm bouncing so much I'm going to hit the ceiling.

****

It was perfect.

Sam walked through the door and I jumped in his face, literally.

I pulled him into my arms, telling him how much I'd missed him and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He smiled underneath my mouth as I maneuvered him to the sofa, pulling him down with me, still kissing. We both sprawled across the cushions, breaking the kiss to laugh like a couple of kids.

"Miss me did ya, Keel?" Sam asked pushing me back into the sofa, silver green eyes searching mine for an answer.

I told him that I had missed him; he said that it was mutual and kissed me again. It was a very heady kiss and I had to push him away to get my mind back in gear.

He pouted and then smiled when I said that he could kiss me again in a minute, but for now I had a present for him. He grinned wolfishly, sliding his hands down the sides of my body, chuckling that maybe he should unwrap me then.

I snorted, telling him he had a one-track mind but he ignored me, capturing my lips with his and kissing me long and hard, his fingers sliding up through my hair.

It took all my willpower to pull back, telling him through gasping breaths that I had another present for him.

That had him curious and he stopped, an excited gleam in his eye.

I wriggled out (and he didn't make it easy for me) from where he'd pinned me and reached over to the table next to the sofa and picked up the white envelope that I'd left there earlier.

He looked quizzically at the envelope as I handed it to him

"With love from me to you, babe."

He smiled, shifting up slightly so that he was sitting next to me rather than over me.

His green eyes were sparkling with curious excitement as he turned the envelope over in his hand, looking up at me as he opened it and pulled the thin gold folder out.

I watched as he slipped the cover open, my own excitement building, waiting for his reaction, and looking as his eyes read the tickets. He looked at me then back down at the folder, disbelief flashing across his face.

"Chris, you're joking. The Caribbean..." He looked at me his face soft and loving.

"I can't believe it," his voice was soft, "you did this for me?"

I just nodded, basking in his pleasure. Happy that this was good and that Sam was pleased.

He reached out with his hand and cupped my face his fingers electric against my skin.

"Chris, I...it's fantastic, unbelievably fantastic." His lips ghosted across mine, sealing the point, and I think at that moment I died and went to heaven.

To see Sam looking so happy and surprised, yeah that was the best bit, the look of sheer incredulity on his face, following by the realization that it was in fact true.

The location is indeed beautiful but quite frankly I could be anywhere and as long as I was with Sam it wouldn't matter.

Two weeks to enjoy warm sandy beaches and clear sparkling turquoise sea. Time to get to know each other properly without any interruptions. We can sleep when we want, eat as much as we like and make love all day if we wish.

Just Sam and I.

Wonderful.

Two more days to paradise...and counting.

****

It's late and once again I'm awake when I should be asleep.

Sam is sleeping soundly beside me, his chest rising gently and he's been making this sweet little contented sound.

I wish that I could sleep like that too, even after making love, I'm still restless, my body telling me it's night time; it's beat and it wants me to sleep but my mind is awake, unable to switch off.

Maybe I needed our love making to be frantic, as it was the other day. I slept well enough after that. I can't complain, it was perfect, again. The thought of our combined passions brings a smile to my lips.

Sam is such a considerate lover. Tender and thoughtful, loving and so gentle at times it makes me want to cry. The way that he kissed me tonight was beautiful. The way that he loved me was utterly perfect.

I was putting the tickets for our holiday away in the drawer when he came up behind me sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me tightly against him, letting out a long contented sigh as he buried his face in my neck. "Did I tell you that I loved you, Chris?" The heat from his breath sent a shiver through my body.

"Yes, but you can tell me again if you like." I said, twisting my head round to steal a kiss.

"I'm obviously getting repetitive then, can't have that," he nipped lightly at my ear, "can we, Chris?" The overemphasis on my name tickled at my ear.

"Oh I don't know, I kinda like repetitive, it has a..." I gasped as his hand moved very directly from my waist down lower to cup my groin.

"...has a what, Chris?" Sam teased. "Are you telling me you don't like...something different...?" His other hand had now found my waistband and was pulling on the drawstring on my pants in a teasingly slow manner.

"How repetitive would you not like to get, babe?" Sam asked.

Before I could even engage my brain sufficiently to answer, Sam's thumbs had hooked into my pants and they were sliding down my hips to pool around my ankles.

My brain knew what to do about that and went on autopilot, deftly slipping my legs from the unwanted garment.

To think that earlier we'd almost rowed again. It came so close. I don't know how we managed to stop, but we did. But I don't want to think about that now; I want to remember the bit after the row.

I want to remember how Sam touched me and made me feel special...

I leant back into his embrace, my eyes closing as his hands fluttered lightly across my boxers, just enough to make me moan and thrust out.

"Do you want me to tell you how much I love you again," Sam's voice was husky, "or would you like me to show you, Chris?" Again, with that that teasing lilt to his voice as he spoke my name.

I had a choice? Shit, I could never make up my mind.

"Both," I whispered greedily.

Sam's mouth came close to my ear, and speaking softly, he told me that yes I could have both. I tried to stay focused on his words as he told me that he loved me, but it was proving difficult with his hands moving towards the waistband of my boxers and the fact that they then thumbed them off my hips.

I bit down on my lip when his fingers slid lovingly along the underside of my cock, cupping my length in his hand before he gently caressed me, long slow movements that went from the base to the tip of my cock.

I was now a dribbling mess, my eyes blinking heavily as I focused everything on the pleasurable heat that was building up in my groin. My head was pounding with the sound of Sam's sharp breath in my ear as he continued to lovingly caress my cock, punctuating each stoke with a whisper or nibble at my ear.

The whole seduction was erotic, standing as we were in our bedroom with just the light from the bedside lamp highlighting Sam's hands as they moved sensuously over my skin.

My legs began to buckle as my climax began to build up deep inside of me. The bed was inches from me yet I couldn't move... didn't want to move. Sam standing behind, turning me on was so erotic I was unable to do anything else but allow the wonderful feelings of him touching me wash over me. He pulled me hard against him, effectively supporting me as I swayed, my mind going AWOL as I felt his own hard heat pressing into my ass.

I was so close, that knowing tightness building up in my balls and spreading out across my spine and groin. I thrust hard into Sam's hand, whimpering as his other hand slipped around my balls, massaging them until I couldn't hold out any longer. The pleasure was intense and I was aware of only that and Sam's voice as he edged me on. I moaned out loud as I came, bucking into his hand as he pumped my cock hard, squeezing every bit of my climax from my body.

I sank back against Sam, fighting to regain my breath.

I heard him chuckling in my ear as he twisted me in his arms so that we were facing each other. I jerked as my spent cock pressed against Sam's still hard member. He laughed again and this time I silenced him with my lips, sliding my arms around his neck and pulling him down for a long and passionate kiss.

Breathless, I pulled back, looking into Sam's eyes and seeing my own love reflected back. "I could stay like this forever, Sammy." I whispered, leaning in to rest my head against his forehead. "Only I think you have an itch that needs seeing too." I offered up a dimpled grin and was rewarded by pure green lust glazed eyes. Deep pools that I could easily get lost in, just like Sam's body, I could lose myself within him for days maybe never to be found again.

I pulled him back towards me for yet another long gratifying kiss. I wanted Sam, but I wanted to take him long and slow - no rush. I craved the taste of him on my lips and I wanted to wrap those long legs around mine and slid up and down his body until we fell asleep exhausted in each other's arms.

****

Once again I'm back to the coffee. I went back to bed for a short while but I just can't sleep. I guess the coffee isn't helping but I can't drink tea. I just cannot see what the English see in it. A beer would have been good but Sam's out of them.

I'm feeling a little depressed now, whether it's the coffee or the lack of sleep, I don't know. Probably both.

I think our conversation earlier has something to do with it. I've been going over it again, brooding. It's not a good thing to do. I should just post it in filed and forget about it.

I mean it was silly of me to get so worked up over something as simple as Sam's medication. It's not like I didn't know he was taking it.

I honestly don't think that the seriousness of what he was taking had hit home until he said that he would have to speak to the doctor about his medication, seeing as he was going to be out of the country.

"Don't you have enough meds then, Sam?" I'd asked innocently.

And that's when he told me. "I'm on a withdrawal program, Chris. I've been reducing my meds under the doctor's supervision."

I have to admit that I was annoyed that I didn't know. I tried hard to keep the anger from my voice as I quizzed him as to why he'd not told me and his reasoning was frankly scary but understandable. Life had dealt him too many blows in one go for him to actually even think about telling me, let alone dealing with any of it.

I felt like a real shit then and quickly curtailed my temper. If nothing else, the last few months have made me realize that holding my temper is something that I can do. And this was one of those occasions when it was a necessity.

I can't say that I didn't feel hurt that Sam had neglected to tell me but I could negate that thought knowing that I'd done the self same thing to Sam and I had known I was doing it, he had not.

The underlying issue here was not just that Sam was withdrawing from medication but that he'd forgotten to tell me in the wake of all the other shit that had hit his particular fan at that one moment in time.

The big shit being Berlin.

The issue that had Sam thinking of having a breakdown over.

I knew exactly what he'd meant when he said so succinctly that his life had been shitty recently. He went on the defense at first assuming, and probably quite rightly knowing my normal record for mis-reading situations, that I was thinking that he meant me personally.

I knew what you meant Sam, but I wanted you to come out and tell me. I couldn't force the words from you. You had to want to tell me about Berlin.

And you did.

And it broke my heart.

The worst part in the whole miserable story, aside from all the pain and anger that you went through and the complete injustice, is that the fall out happened when I wasn't here. I would like to have been able to support you and hold you. Listen to you, as I am now I guess, as you tell your story.

But I wasn't and I know that I can't harp on that. I have to move on as you in fact are doing. I didn't have any answers for you and as much as I wished, I couldn't make it go away. All I could do was listen and hope that it went some way to easing your pain.

So I held your hand and then I held you.

Make Notes

12th November, 2001. 4:38 pm.

I've just read yesterday's entry and I had to laugh. Now that's what you call dedication. I was so exhausted and yet so determined when I did wake, for all of three minutes, to write those four lines in my journal. As I saw it, it was a matter of principle. I've written in this book since the 1st September and I'd be dammed if a little jetlag would stop me missing one day.

I blame Sam.

If he'd not woken me up for what can only be described as very hot sex, I'd have been coherent enough to write more.

Though given a choice between the two...well what do you think?

It has to be every guy's dream, whether straight, bi or gay, to wake up and have your bones jumped. To wake to a firm, hard mouth covering your own and a soft, warm tongue probing for entrance...and finding it.

At first I thought that I was dreaming but then I opened my eyes to find Sam hovering over me, an intense, heated look on his face. As we kissed again I realized that it was no dream and that Sam was in no mood for preliminaries or slow leisurely lovemaking. Pressing his body against my own I could feel how hard and hot he was. There was an urgency about him that I'd never felt before. And it excited me.

My own arousal shot through me immediately and I pushed away the last vestiges of sleep and wrapped my arms tightly round my lover, pulling him harder against me. Letting my hands slide along the length of his body, my fingers suddenly desperate to explore the flesh that I'd not felt for nearly a week. I'd missed this beautiful person and I had to smile at how much he'd obviously missed me.

Sam was hungry.

Finished with my mouth he was already laving his way down my neck, sucking and licking at my throat like a wild animal, desperate to taste and feel.

Sam's urgency echoed through my own body, leaving me suddenly breathless. I realized that there was going to be little foreplay.

Sam wanted me. And have me he would.

There was urgency in his actions, the sucking and nipping scalding against my skin as he rushed his way down my body, his mouth intent on finding his target. And when he found it and slipped me into his warm, wet mouth I bucked off the bed, moaning out his name as the heat from his throat instantly hardened my cock.

His touch was tantalizingly short, just enough to let me know what I wanted and needed. Enough to engorge me further and then he was off searching again, crawling back up my body, his hands burning over my skin, squeezing my muscles, all the time his eyes locked with mine.

Deep pools of glazed green.

Sam settled himself over my hips, still rocking lightly against me, still keeping up the almost frantic need for contact with my body. I reached up for a kiss but he refused. Instead he ran a solitary finger over my lips, which sent spirals of hot heat immediately to my groin.

Sam's face was intense, he knew what he wanted, what he needed and I was happy to let him lead, realizing that there was a tension building within him that was about more than sex.

He reached behind him and grasped me hard again.

I gasped at his touch.

And then I knew what he wanted. Me. He wanted me inside him.

I moaned long and deep as he guided me into his body, my cock pressing against his ass, begging entrance. He took me slowly, carefully lowering himself over my throbbing length a little at a time, until I was fully sheathed within him.

I was panting hard, feeling Sam's tightness surround me, so fucking close to each other, it was almost unbearable. I ran my hands over his thighs, needing to touch and stroke him. I had to do something with my hands, he was driving me mad, insane. I couldn't concentrate, my mind overloaded with the sensation of Sam moving slowly over me.

I needed Sam to know how good this was and a jumble of words of love slipped over my lips and then I lost all coherent thought. All I could feel was Sam and how hot he was, rabid with sexual energy. The hunger within him was pulsing through his body into mine as he upped the pace, thrusting faster and faster.

This was yet another side to Sam that I'd not seen. The few times that we've made love it's been intense and good and satisfying, but this, it was something else. I felt that Sam needed this. He was desperate for the pleasure that was building up between our two bodies. He craved it. I don't think I could have stopped him if I'd wanted too.

I briefly closed my eyes and had but one image. Sam sitting over me, pumping hard, his lean body moving above mine with an urgency that was compelling. I opened my eyes again, my hands gripping the sheets, trying hard to stave off what I knew I couldn't. Release. I didn't want that, I wanted to stay within Sam forever, to always feel like this. For it to never end.

He was riding me fast now, his butt slapping against my thighs, heating me up from inside and outside, the sweat rolling down my skin reminding me of how hot and good this was.

I could feel my climax screaming through my body, desperate for release. I held on as long as I could, trying to fight against it, but it won. A hot heat rose from my spine, pressing against my stomach and driving up through my groin. And then I came, pumping into Sam, my hips bucking up against his ass. Crying out his name as my body jerked and twisted, not happy until the last few drops had left my body.

Depleted, I sank against the mattress that Sam had almost fucked me through. My mind was reeling from the overload of sensations it had just experienced. I was too breathless to talk, my eyes closed as I let the warm contentedness of a good fuck slide over me.

Sam leaned towards me, making me curse as I slipped from his tight ass, my body jerking against the movement. His voice was soft in my ear as he whispered breathlessly. "I want to fuck you." The words sent a shiver down my spine and once again I was putty in his hands.

As I said, I was incoherent but not so much that I couldn't reply to that request. "Yes," I replied, my voice barely audible.

Sam inside me. My chest and throat tightened with anticipation.

My hands slid over my body, luxuriating in the feel of my own skin, so hot and wet. I ventured lower, slipping off the spent condom before caressing my own cock, watching Sam as he prepared himself for our joining.

He was beautiful.

Kneeling as he was between my knees, his hair tousled, small bangs clinging to the sweat that beaded his forehead. His lips were parted in concentration as he slipped his own condom on. And then those eyes held my gaze again, full of lust and passion and love.

I shivered.

I could barely contain myself, my breath coming in short pants as I felt my lover's fingers slide into my body, lovingly preparing me. More than anything I wanted to feel Sam stretching me, filling me. I lay back, waiting to experience Sam's hardness press into me. My whole body was aching, wanting him to touch me deep inside.

To hit that magic spot and send me flying.

Sam was poised above me, his face a picture of concentration as he edged gently into me, his eyes closing as he became fully sheathed within my body. He paused slightly before he started to move, a quiet moan slipping past his lips, as the pleasure that I had just enjoyed captured his body too.

It felt so good to have him inside me, my body closing tightly round his length. His strokes became faster, pressing more frequently against that magic spot, sending prickles of pleasure into my stomach and groin. I was hot, sweating against the sheets now as Sam picked up the pace and thrust hard against my body, the sound of skin against skin turning me on even more.

Sam was gone, completely immersed in the pleasure that I was creating for him with my body. I don't think I've ever seen him look so desirable. His lean frame glistened with sweat as he pumped harder, groaning with each thrust, my name whispering from his lips between each panting breath.

I could feel that he was near completion.

My hands slid over his thighs, feeling the muscles trembling beneath my fingers. And then he stopped moving, his head dropped to his chest, his body tightened, muscles stretching as he came into me, filling me. He moaned long and liquid before falling gracefully against me.

I pulled him tightly to me, running my hands over his back, loving the feel of his skin beneath my fingers. Hot, sticky sweaty skin. Delicious. I listened to his breath as it slowly evened out and he relaxed fully against my body, rolling to one side. I was left bereft as his cock slid out of my body.

Sam tuned onto his side and kissed me gently, his face lighting up with the most dazzling smile.

God I love him so much, I felt that my heart must be pinned to the outside of my chest at that moment. He was so fucking desirable and loveable and wonderful and too many things in that one moment.

And I was absolutely fucked for want of a better word. And it had nothing to do with jetlag.

What a welcome home, it was fantastic, everything that I could have ever wanted and more.

****

I was pretty out of it yesterday and barely remember anything about coming home from the airport, though two things do stand out in my mind.

The highlight of my day has just got to be coming through customs to find Sam standing next to Spencer his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of me. I think that my own eyes must have widened at the sight of Sam. It was a lovely surprise to find him waiting for me, I felt so good knowing that he'd come to collect me. It kinda made me feel special and all warm and mushy. It was as much I could do not to run up to him and pull him into my arms and I had to physically check my eagerness in light of the fact that Backup and Spencer were there.

As I stopped in front of Sam he took hold of my hand. (That's vivid memory number two). A tingle ran up my arm, that one small touch was breathtaking, waking up all kinds of memories. I can remember looking at Spencer and Backup, so sure that my face must have given me away.

My partner gave me one of his famous stern looks as he inspected the damage that Rob had caused, his eyes traveling up to the butterfly strips on my forehead. I winced slightly at the tone of his voice as he demanded to know what had happened. I wanted Sam TLC not Sam cross.

It was all too much for me at that point and I plaintively looked at Backup for some, well, backup.

Between us we told the short story of Rob and his betrayal of CI5. I naturally missed out the bit about Rob trying to blackmail me about our sexual relationship. I'd tell Sam about that at a more appropriate time.

I had the good sense to look sheepish and his face softened slightly, asking me why had I not told him. Hell, that was quite obvious, something to do with being 4,000 miles in the wrong direction, Sam. But I explained all the same. Again I didn't need to mention that I didn't want to worry my partner, he knew that, I could see the look in his eyes. Just like the one I could see that said that his annoyance was out of love for me, concern that I was hurt. I couldn't have been cross with him and I was too far-gone to even consider arguing any point, not that there was one to argue anyway.

****

I've been standing at the door to our bedroom, watching Sam sleep. He's lying on his stomach; one arm is tucked under his head and the other clutching possessively at my pillow. I like that. His hair has fallen across his forehead and I'm sorely tempted to go over and push it gently off his face.

I was about to leave when he mumbled in his sleep, his body momentarily pushing at the duvet, exposing a long muscular leg, and then he twisted again and I was delighted as I glimpsed the dark silk of his boxer shorts, the static from the bed linen making them cling to his body. I was turned on instantly by the image before me and I toyed for a moment with the thought that waking Sam might be a nice idea, kinda get my own back, but it's only 4:00 am and I can't be that mean. Not when I know he's still healing and needs his sleep.

So I went reluctantly back to the lounge, making myself yet another cup of coffee to while away the hours of my lonely jetlagged existence.

Writing in my journal is keeping me sane at the moment. I have no one to talk to, so I guess I'm kinda talking in here.

I can't wait for Sam to wake. I've been home for about 20 odd hours now but in all that time I've only really seen Sam for about two of those, and we didn't talk much.

Not that I'm complaining. Making love to Sam was wonderful, frantic and urgent and so beautiful.

Sam is beautiful.

I've not had a real opportunity to speak to him, look at this face and touch him. And I miss that. I've missed Sam desperately.

Unable to sleep, I climbed out of bed over four hours ago, leaving Sammy to snuggle back under the duvet. I wished that I could stay there and snuggle with him but my tossing and turning was beginning to disturb Sam and that's not fair. Like I said, he's still on the mend and needs whatever sleep he can get. Though I would say our earlier lovemaking was pretty medicinal too.

I can't believe how long I slept yesterday and yet I still have this underlying tiredness, which no doubt will catch up with me again later today. Though I do feel marginally better. The sickly feeling has left me but I still don't feel like I'm firing on all cylinders.

I have a meeting with Malone later this morning, and I have to admit that I'm dreading it. My concentration is all shoot to hell and by the time I get to the office I'll probably be ready to sleep again.

Great.

And how the hell am I supposed to deal with his questions then? The ones concerning the case will be fine, even the ones about Rob's betrayal of CI5. Hell, I can manage being bawled out by Malone on that score too.

It's just...well I'm really scared that Rob will have followed through with his threat and told Malone about Sam and I. Shit, I'm not scared, I'm seriously worried.

The consequences could be...nope I'm not even going to think about consequences. I can barely deal with the basics of Malone knowing and asking me, let alone what the fallout would be.

I just want to bury my head in the sand.

No I don't. I want to talk to Sam about it, but I can't. How can I load this onto him, it would be so unfair. He's had so much to cope with recently; I can't lay my worries at his door the minute I walk through it.

At the moment he's none the wiser about Rob's little blackmail attempt and there's no point enlightening him until I have good reason too.

I know that Rob said that he still loved me, but I'm not convinced it's enough for him to not want to go ahead and ruin my life. He told Malone he'd help with CI5 enquiries and look where that got us. Going by past experiences his word doesn't mean a lot.

I'm dreading today, I just want to get it over with and then move on with my life, our life. At least by later today I'll know the way my future lies.

****

I've obviously not given Sam enough credit; he's very shrewd.

So much for my 'macho Keel 'I can cope' act, Sam saw right through me. I sat there, listening to myself opening up and telling him everything as he slowly peeled back the layers to reveal all my worries. And I do mean all of them. I even told him about Rob's blackmail attempt.

At first I was irritated with myself for having been so weak as to allow Sam to breakdown my defenses so quickly and so easily. And then I realized that I had to. Ours is a partnership both in work and otherwise and I was doing Sam a real discredit by not sharing what effectively concerned him too.

I was glad that it did. It was a relief to tell and I have to say that Sam had a lot to offer in the way of advice and I feel a lot more confident about meeting with Malone today. I feel like its not just me going in there but us, Sam and I, teamwork standing up to whatever hits us - together. And after all that's happened between us in the last couple of months, the one lesson that we both should have learnt was not to keep things from each other, whatever our current strengths and weaknesses.

As Sam so succinctly put it he's not 'weak or pathetic' and by not telling him my troubles I was in a sense saying that he was.

"A trouble shared is a trouble halved, Chris, and it gives me something else to focus on other than myself," he said, adding, "and that can only be good for me."

I had to agree. He must have been going mad stuck in his flat. I think working on this case has really helped Sam. Given him a sense of purpose other than his own health and fitness. And being so successful can only have given him more drive to want that fitness back and to get back to work.

It was hard letting go of those defense mechanisms I'd built up, both for myself and that which I felt was protecting Sam, but eventually he got to the main matter, the one thing that was really bothering me.

In the end I was glad that I'd shared it all with Sam. Together we looked at all the possibilities that might happen should Rob have told Malone our little secret.

The worst scenario was that Malone would kick us out. However, with the case having been successfully sewn up, Sam and I agreed that it was highly unlikely. Splitting us up as a team was another thing entirely, but talking about it with Sam I felt a lot more positive that the fall out wouldn't initially be that negative.

We're a good team, Sam and I. But whether that would negate Malone's First Rule, that we can't say. Though I would be surprised if he didn't at least give us an opportunity to show how we can handle ourselves before he took any drastic measures. I'd like to think that, anyway.

But I won't find that out until I've spoken to Malone himself and I have to confess that my stomach is roiling now at the thought of seeing him.

Make Notes

11th November, 2001. 10:51 pm.

I'm home.

Slept.

Sam woke me. Whoa Mama!!!!!!!

Slept again.

Make Notes

10th November, 2001. 7:15 pm.

I had a call this morning from Steve informing me that Rob wanted to speak to me. At first I told him to tell Rob that he could go freeze in hell.

It wasn't until I'd put the phone down and sat and thought about it that I changed my mind, calling Steve back and saying, yes, I would see Rob.

Don't ask me why. I must be out of my mind. I can't think what he would have to say that would remotely interest me. However, I have to admit that I am curious and part of me feels like I should give him that opportunity, after all, we did have something once, a long time ago.

And maybe that's why I said yes.

The FBI has yet to officially charge him. The current standing charge is aiding and abetting, which is enough to hold him until they have something a little more concrete. Steve assures me that the charges will change; they're currently digging into Rob's company's affairs, trawling through his bank statements and computer records. He's convinced that they will find something. The fact that Rob has sailed so close to the wind in the past hasn't escaped their knowledge.

****

Rob was sitting behind a small table at the detention center. Dressed in the regulation blue he looked a lot smaller than his six-foot frame.

He thanked me for coming and I shrugged, taking a seat opposite him, suddenly unsure why the hell I was there but still curious as to what he wanted.

So I asked him straight out. "What do you want, Rob?" He laughed, stating that I needed to chill out, that he had no hidden agenda; it was as simple as this. He wanted to see me one more time.

"So here I am, Rob. You've seen me, is that all?" I asked, getting up from the table, unimpressed.

"Wait, Chris, please. Just stay for a while longer would you?" he asked, a pleading quality to his voice stopping me in my tracks.

So like a fool I sat back down.

He leant over the desk, running his hands through his hair and telling me that he wanted to say how sorry he was.

"Sorry for which bit, Rob? The professional chaos you caused or the fact that you nearly ruined my private life? Or maybe both?" I snapped, annoyed at myself for actually saying those words, and letting him know how much he had affected me. How close Sam and I had become to not being together because of him.

But then I realized that he actually did mean it.

He couldn't meet my eyes and suddenly part of me remembered the old Rob, the one that I'd known way back and then I felt really sorry for him. And I guess, sorry for myself, that that part of my life had ended in such a sordid way. I think that the enormity of the trouble he was in had finally sunk in and he was beginning to regret it in a big way.

At the end of the day, Rob was never a malicious person, overpowering and a number of other things, stupid too. I just think that somewhere along Life's road he took a wrong turning and this is where he's ended up.

It's quite sad really.

Half of me wonders if this is how Rob would have ended up if I'd not left him. How would things have been had I stayed around? Would my influence have kept him from making mistakes like this? Because I don't think this is the first time that he's blown too close to the wind, not from what Steve has indicated.

That's kinda making me sound like the Virgin Mary, and I know that I'm not. But I know right from wrong and which side of the fence I sit on when it comes to law and order. I think somewhere along the line Rob got it all mixed up in his need for control, power and money.

He's not a bad person, just maybe very stupid.

I don't need power or control in my life, at least not to the extent that it becomes all-consuming. And I'm lucky enough, I guess, not to need money. I have an inheritance that sits in the bank doing very little. I don't need that much money. No one does, it certainly doesn't bring happiness. I can vouch for that.

I looked carefully at Rob before I got up from the chair trying to look past what I saw now and reflect back to the person he was before. Do you know I can't remember or maybe I just don't want to? Maybe there is no difference and I was just too wrapped up in my own grief at the time to really notice Rob for what he actually was. Maybe I was the one doing the using? I don't know and I don't think I can really deal with those questions. Not now.

We didn't have anything else to say and as I left Rob called me again. "You know that I never stopped loving you, Chris?"

I don't know what he expected me to say to that. With the thought in my head that he nearly lost me Sam, I had no answer to give and without turning round I said goodbye and walked out of the door.

****

I'm going home. Yes!

I'm excited and nervous and think that I will be counting every minute of this flight.

Backup is sitting next to me. She called Spencer before we left and he's going to pick us both up at the airport. She was positively glowing when she came off the phone and I couldn't help but tease her a little.

I should have kept my mouth shut, as she got her own back on the plane, asking with an air of innocence if I wanted Spencer to drop me at Sam's.

I dithered, realizing for the first time since speaking to Sam last night that I wasn't actually sure where I should go. I think she took my hesitation as a guilt complex, as she gave me the most brilliant smile and said that it was probably for the best that I go to Sam's seeing as my own flat hadn't been lived in properly for the last couple of weeks.

I was about to protest when she gave me the most frank that look I could imagine.

"I don't care where you go to first, Chris, your flat or Sam's. Whatever makes you happy, it's fine with me." Was I reading too much into that statement or was that a declaration that she knew about Sam and I and was happy for us both?

Either way it answered my question without her actually realizing it. Yes, I would go to Sam's. As Backup so cleverly pointed out, there was little welcome waiting for me at my own flat. And right now, I needed a welcome, a homecoming to remember for the next couple of months.

I'd like to think that she does know and, I guess, that she does approve. I respect Backup's opinion, as does Sam. Not that we would go around holding hands but having someone else know that we are a couple would make life a little easier. Hell, we've hardly spent enough time together over the last couple of weeks to even attempt a normal relationship.

I'm really looking forward to spending time with Sam on a normal day-to-day basis. Going to work and coming home, eating together, vegging on the sofa watching sloppy films and eating pizza. Sounds good.

Backup is currently snoring on my shoulder so I've taken this opportunity to fill in my journal. Once again, sleep is still eluding me. I'm absolutely shattered but I'm so out of sync that my body is finding it hard to shut down. God forbid when I do finally get to sleep, I think it will be for a week.

Four more hours before we land and then another two before I see Sam. I'm counting...

Make Notes

9th November, 2001. 6:33 pm.

Malone called me really late last night.

He ran through the last few details of the case, echoing the previous day's discoveries and commenting lightly on how easy it had been to nail Meath once they had broached the subject of Berlin. Meath apparently had signed a full confession within the hour.

I knew that Sam recognized Meath from a meeting he had had with Gilbert but how it tied in with Sam, or how it tied in sufficiently for Meath to want to confess, Malone had obviously not made clear to me previously.

I was confused and told him so. I mean, I'd heard that Meath had confessed from Spencer, but what was this about Berlin?

"I'm afraid we didn't have the full picture yesterday, Mr Keel," he said. The hairs on the back of my neck started to prickle. I had the distinct feeling that I wasn't going to like what he had to say and, more to the point, it obviously had something to do with Sam.

"The outcome of the interview with Meath was not quite as we expected, or to be more specific, not quite as Mr Curtis expected." I could just picture him sitting at his desk his face doing impassive as he passed on what I could only assume was not going to be good news.

Meath, it would appear, had not only confessed to the Gentern break-in but had also given Malone and Sam details of his and Gilbert's deeper involvement in the Berlin affair.

"Involvement, Sir?" I queried.

"Yes, Mr Keel. It would appear that Mr Curtis and his colleagues were in fact set up by Gilbert." He continued to explain how Sam and his colleagues became targets for Gilbert when the ex-MI6 agent realized that they had seen more than he felt that they should have.

When Sam had witnessed the meeting, outside the courier company in Berlin, between Gilbert and Meath that fateful day three years ago Gilbert had been organizing a shady deal with Meath. Gilbert, being paranoid, decided that he could not take any chances that his lucrative deal with Meath be discovered. So he arranged for Sam and his colleagues to be disposed of.

As simple as that, probably without even blinking an eye, the bastard decided that three people's lives were disposable. One of those being Sam.

I demanded to know why Malone hadn't given this information to me earlier. His answer? He didn't think it relevant to the case. Getting Spencer to tell me the basic facts and leaving it at that. Meath had confessed to the crime so Malone didn't feel the need to explain any further than that.

It had obviously taken another conversation with Sam for Malone to realize that it had affected him more than he had realized. Not that Malone told me that, he wouldn't be so indiscrete. No, he just suggested that I might like to call Mr Curtis and he would be able to give me fuller picture.

The fuller picture, yeah like the goddamned fall out sheet, eh Malone?

By the time he'd put the phone down I was pretty pissed, to say the least. First he uses my partner as a pawn in his games of cat and mouse and then he fails to explain fully to me, Sam's partner, the results of the case, only knocking on my door when he realizes how badly it's affecting Sam.

Where the fuck does he get off using his people like this? The bastard.

No doubt he thinks he's doing his bit for Sam by calling me. He's covered all corners and someone else will gather up any fall out.

I can only imagine how that must have felt for Sam, finding out that Berlin was no accident. To know that his controller, a man he's supposed to trust, had betrayed him in such a way.

That's one hell of a blow to take, particularly in the fragile, emotional state that Sam's currently in.

Apparently seeing Sam standing in the flesh was too much for Meath, he thought that Sam was a dead man, and he confessed everything. Indicating Gilbert as the brains behind the whole scenario.

It's a happy ending for Malone - he has both Gilbert and Meath in custody.

He wisely picked Gilbert up the day that Meath flew back into the UK. Gilbert, however, hasn't been as co-operative. I don't suppose that surprised Malone or Sam. With his MI6 training he's able to withstand the usual interrogation tactics. So CI5 are left to play a waiting game.

As I said, Malone is happy but at what cost to Sam?

That's a question Malone can't answer and he knows it. Which is why he's calling me.

No shit.

Malone suggested that I might like to call Sam to get the whole picture. In other words he knows that Sam's holding back and not dealing with the news particularly well and probably doing that stoic Curtis impression again. When really he's bubbling away inside unable to let any of it out and not knowing how to deal with his feelings. Running scared of the fall out, should he actually let himself go.



And, since Malone waited until the early hours in England to call me, I can't call Sam yet. No, now I have to play a waiting game, waiting until it's morning there and I can call Sam without freaking him out or disturbing his much needed rest.

And it's driving me crazy.

****

I called Sam as soon as I could.

I could hear in the tone of his voice that he's barely holding it together and for once he didn't do stoic Curtis. For once he opened his heart to me and in a very quiet voice admitted that he was finding it tough but that he would cope, as he'd done in the past.

The only difference being that Sam has already taken a huge beating, both physically and emotionally, and this Berlin issue is just another load of stuff for him to have to deal with.

Sam joked that he'd wait till I got home before he had the nervous breakdown. He may be laughing but part of me is worried that he may be speaking some truth. At the end of the day, he's only human and as strong as he feels he is there is only so much even Sam can take.

I wanted to come home, said that I would call Malone and make some noises, but Sam wasn't having it and once he pointed out his reasons I reluctantly had to agree. It would be unprofessional and, like Sam said, if we ever get round to letting Malone know about our relationship, it doesn't look good if I want to run home and wrap Sam in cotton wool every time he falls over. Though falling over hardly covers what Sam has been through the last couple of months.

So it was agreed that he would hang on by his fingertips and I would push forward with closing down the job from this end.

I put the phone down in a very unhappy frame of mind. I wanted to go home before but now I felt it with an urgency that was, I know, going to consume me.

Make Notes

8th November, 2001. 12:46 pm.

The sweet smell of success and so I phoned Sam to share it with him. Psad was in custody; and both the plans and the prototype were back in safe hands in the Federal lockup. Signed and accounted for by Steve and myself.

The raid had been simplistic.

We found Psad in the sports hall, standing to the far end of the hall gloating over his prize. I'm not sure who was more shocked - he that we were there or the team that we'd got two for the price of one. The plans and the prototype.

I was a little jubilant, and sharing it with Sam, albeit over the phone, was just the icing on the cake.

He said that he was pleased to hear my voice and relieved that I was in one piece. I had to agree with that, though I felt a touch guilty as I looked down at the swath of white bandage that covered most of my arm. Not to mention the cute butterfly strips holding my skin together on my forehead. I decided that what he doesn't know about he can't worry about and I did kinda get the impression that he was looking for reassurance from me that I was okay. So I gave it to him. He'd find out soon enough when I got back home and I'd take the flak then. Or, hopefully, the TLC. Now that would be nice.

I told him I was sorry that I'd not called yesterday and he completely understood, as I knew he would. I didn't tell him how hard it had been not to pick up that phone and call, just to hear his voice, and I didn't tell him how much I'd needed to speak to him last night. I would have had to explain why. I felt quite emotional as it was, just hearing his voice. I guess it was the residue adrenalin from the mission...

Steve came over, pushing a beer in my hand and indicating that I come over to the team's drink-up once I'd finished my call. It's a ritual he told me. When a case goes good, they break open a case. And he's not joking - there must be about fifty bottles of beer on the table. I don't think sleep will be eluding me tonight, that's for sure.

I took the beer from Steve, leaving it to swing in my hand and smiled at Sam's suggestion that I 'go play'. I wanted to stay and talk more with Sam but the noise from over in the corner was getting louder and for what I wanted to say I didn't want an audience. I think Sam heard the giggles from Lucy and Backup as he started laughing too and told me again to go and enjoy myself. "I will, Sam," I told him. "Once I've done the paperwork." He laughed, "That'll make a nice change, Chris."

And sadly the paperwork will keep me here for another day or so. We can't extract the plans or prototype until the documentation has been completed. And there are reams of the stuff and these guys like it in triplicate.

I hardly drank anything but still felt wasted. It must have something to do with the jetlag and the painkillers. Yes, I know you're not supposed to drink with them, but I only had a couple. I was hoping the anesthetizing qualities of two bottles of Bud would dull the pain that the tablets hadn't touched.

Backup drove me back to our hotel and ushered me to my room, pushing me through the doorway with strict instructions not to show my face until at least lunch time.

Sounds good.

But it wasn't going to happen. I managed four hours before I was up again pacing the floor unable to sleep. Jetlag, it's an absolute bummer. Though it has its compensations in that I can sit here and write in my journal. There is little else to do. The TV stinks and everyone else is asleep.

Make Notes

7th November, 2001. 11:46 pm.

Malone has been in touch, and in the light of Anglo/American relationships, he's arranged for Steve Milton from the FBI field office to get in touch with us and organize a co-op raid on Psad.

I wasn't too keen, having seen the local police handle themselves on my first visit, and I wasn't expecting the local FBI to be any better. However, I changed my mind immediately when I met with Steve. He was extremely amiable and intelligent. He had that reserved air about him, which reminded me a little of Sam, but once we got talking he relaxed up a bit and the guy underneath was real friendly.

The briefing went smoothly, unlike my previous experience. Steve was open to suggestions and keen to tap into our information and familiarity with the case. Assuming that the intel I'd bashed out of Rob was correct, we would set up surveillance on both Psad and the club and Backup would follow Meath with the tracking system. We had every eventuality covered.

According to Rob the meet was to take place at 6:30 pm, which meant that it would be dark, therefore effectively making our cover easier but at the same time tracking the targets would become more difficult. My thoughts became words and Backup looked up at me from her tiny computer screen and laughed at that. "You want cream on it too, Chris?" Hell, now if that suggestion came from Sam... I threw a dimpled grin in her direction, making her laugh again.

The look that she gave me made me half wonder if she could read my mind, and I almost blushed. Worrying to say the least and something I must bring up with Sam, see if he's noticed anything. Not that I'm too worried. If she has twigged Sam and I she's obviously keeping close mouthed about it. I trust Backup almost as much as I trust Sam and I know she'd never deliberately hurt Sam or I.

During the briefing Steve introduced the five officers who would be working alongside us. I was glad that it was a small team; anything larger and it would become harder to handle. We organized three teams; Steve and Michael to follow Psad, Lucy and myself were going to stake out the club and Backup was with Brad, following Meath.

I took the proffered Kevlar, not that we had any reason to believe that there would be guns but Steve wasn't taking any chances and I agreed. I'd kinda like to come out of this in one piece. So far I'd tallied up a mild concussion, bruises and a rather nice sewing pattern on my forearm and that was without leaving my hotel room. I didn't intend to take any more 'souvenirs' home to Sam.

With all three teams in place it was a case of just waiting for Psad to make his move.

Which he did just after 6:30 pm. Obviously not one for good time keeping. Steve called in first to confirm he was on the move, with Backup echoing the same - that Meath was up and heading in the same direction as Psad.

We were on a go.

Only I spoke too soon.

Ten minutes later Steve called back in to advise that Psad was heading away from the club. Then Backup confirmed the same. Our first thoughts were that Psad was going to double back on himself, ensuring that there was no tail, and Meath likewise. But after another fifteen minutes we realized that wasn't the case. He was heading out of town, albeit in an indirect way, obviously still making sure that he wasn't being followed.

Once it became clear that neither were heading for the club, Lucy and I joined the others, taking a more direct route since we knew the direction they were heading. I don't think I've ever moved so quickly. Well I can think of one time. In France when I was standing on that mine - I seem to remember moving pretty quickly then. This was different. The speed with which I could move was limited by outside factors, like stoplights and other cars. That incident was just Sam and I counting to three, or not three.

As I pulled the car out into the flow of traffic and headed across town it wasn't long before we hit major traffic congestion. I slammed the wheel of the car in frustration, cursing. Pissed with Rob and half wondering if the mis-information had been deliberate on his part.

It was Backup's cool voice down the earpiece that reminded me that she had the tracking up and she had no doubts as to the reliability of Spencer's electronic gizmos, and that I should have faith too. I did have faith and I told her so, it's just that I'm pissed that this is one that Rob has got over on me. Either that or the bastard really didn't know about the change of plans. I wouldn't put it past him, weak willed bastard that he is, to play that element of control once again and feed me wrong information.

Backup's voice once again came through the earpiece calling out the final location. She confirmed their arrival at what looked like a sports complex, disused from the looks of it she said. Well, that made life easier. No Joe Public to have to consider.

By the time Lucy and I arrived, Steve had set up surveillance and we slipped into our positions. The area was pretty run down and looked like it was in the process of re-development. Some way over on the other side of the complex there were new houses being built. I guessed this old heap of bricks was next on the agenda.

A quick recon had shown that there were only two exits. With no ladders to the roof and windows that had been boarded up, we could assume that the exits were the only threat. With a team set up within the vicinity of each, we sat and waited it out.

Meath was first to leave the building carrying a briefcase. As he'd arrived before the team we couldn't confirm whether he'd entered with the brief case or whether this contained his payment. Our brief from Malone was to continue tagging Meath and allow him to return to the UK.

Backup's voice once again sounded in my ear, confirming that she was tracking Meath and would contact us later. I had no doubt that he would be driving straight to the airport.

That just left Psad.

The adrenaline was pumping fast by the time we'd entered the building. A fine mixture of fear and excitement that makes your mouth dry and your heart beat hard inside your chest.

However many missions I go on it never changes. The edge is always there, keeping you focused and alert.

The building was dark; not pitch black, but enough to warrant taking a little more care. The occasional stream of light filtered through the gaps in the boarded windows, highlighting the peeling paintwork and general disrepair of the building, but lending enough light to make the way a little less hazardous. It smelt too - damp and dusty.

There were six rooms from our entrance and three from the other teams end, each was silently checked and cleared. That left the main sports hall. The sound of a table being dragged across the room left us in no doubt that our target had been found.

Make Notes

6th November, 2001. 11:22 pm.

I knew it, that gut feeling that I had about Rob. Well, I've just proved myself right.

The bastard. Oh yes, he's playing both sides of the field all right. Well that's how it appears. I'm working on a partially overheard phone conversation so I can't go in kicking and screaming.

Not yet.

I need to think it through first, maybe call Sam see if I can run it by him. I can't go to Malone either as I don't have anything concrete and whilst I'm positive that I heard Rob talking on the phone and asking to speak to Psad, I have to be sure.

And believe me, I intend to get it all out of him, one way or another.

For what's left of the night - it's already 4 am - I'm going to go over those intel files with a fine tooth comb. First, however, I'm going to check this room and the hotel phone for any bugs. I can't take any chances that Rob hasn't been setting traps for me. There isn't much I can do about my mobile so I need to call Sam away from the hotel tomorrow, which means being up early enough to get out and back before Rob rises.

Should be easy enough. I can't settle to sleep now.

****
I'm in my hotel room having just got back from calling Sam. I ended up in a diner round the corner; it was so goddamned noisy I could barely hear myself think. I could feel my temper beginning to assert itself and actually bitched at the waitress when she fucked up my order. Jeez, is a Danish and a white coffee that hard to mess up?

Obviously.

However, I felt bad the minute I opened my mouth. It wasn't the waitress's fault that I'm tired and grumpy and that things are going decidedly pear shaped. I tried to make amends, offering her a small apologetic smile when she returned with my breakfast but the look she gave me back told me where I could wear it. In a funny way her annoyance made me smile but it was short lived.

The coffee was good and went some way to restoring life to my body. The pasty was delicious and provided a temporary sugar boost, though neither helped to any great extent in relieving the constant tiredness that I'm feeling. Tired? Hell yes, I am. So much so that I'm sick of thinking about it, sick of writing those same words in my journal. Like I don't know how I feel. It actually doesn't make me feel any less tired writing about how tired I am. So I don't know why I bother to mention it.

I'm definitely losing it.

Anyway, back to Sam. He sounded tired too, and miserable. I asked him how things were and he just said, "Fine, Chris, and how are you?" Effectively turning the question back to me, but not before I caught that slight edge to his voice.

My good intentions of sharing what my suspicions were about Rob immediately fell by the wayside. How the hell could I have even considered loading Sam down with my troubles when it was obvious his own demons had come back to haunt him? And once again I was on the other side of the goddamned pond and could do nothing to help him except make token noises and tell him how much I love him.

He did a good job of hiding it, but like I said before there was this little catch to his voice.

I probed a bit more but he kept pushing the subject back to me. Telling me how concerned he was and that I should concentrate on the job in hand and not worry about him.

So I finished the call telling him, again, that I loved him very much and missed him. I told him that I would try to call again later this afternoon but not to worry if I didn't, as I wasn't sure what the day's plans entailed.

He told me that I was to put all my concentration into the job and not worry about him and to call whenever I was able and if I wasn't then that was okay too, he understood. He just wanted me to watch my back and come home soon. And yes, he was fine was the answer to my final probing before I put the phone down. Yeah, sure you are, Sam. Just peachy.

****

I'm sitting on my hotel bed waiting for Backup to arrive. She should actually be here any time now and I do hope so. I'm not too sure how long I can actually hold on before I pass out. More from lack of sleep than from any life threatening injury.

I don't think that anything is broken, just plenty of bruises, and a fair bit of blood from the cut to my head and the glass from the table that smashed and ripped the skin open on my forearm.

I hurt like hell but probably not as much as Rob does.

He's currently out cold, cuffed to the radiator in my hotel room.

Well, I think you can call it a room. It's looking a little bit worse for wear at the moment and that's not making allowances for my slightly blurred vision.

I'd woken earlier this afternoon to knocking on my door. I'd jumped up completely disorientated, opening it to find Rob grinning from ear to ear, happy to let me know that I'd slept most of the morning and some part of the afternoon away and crooning that I should feel much better now.

I checked my watch and the reality of how long I'd been out of it hit me like a stone. I had to drag my still sluggish brain back to now and ask him why the fuck he hadn't woken me up.

The last I remember was after I'd returned from the diner. I'd taken a shower and lain on my bed, completing my journal. Shit, falling asleep hadn't been part of the plan.

He said that getting no reply he'd assumed I was either out, or knocked out, from jetlag. He laughed, "Guess I supposed right, eh, Chris?" It's a reasonable assumption in a normal situation but with my suspicions I couldn't help but think that I'd given him ample opportunity to sneak off or phone Psad again.

I realized that there was no point stewing over it, seeing that there was little I could do now. What's done is done.

I told Rob to come in and I'd get ready. Walking back from the diner I'd decided to play dangerously and tell Rob about the tentative connection that CI5 had made with the courier company. I wanted to see what kind of reaction it would provoke. It was the only gauge, aside of asking Rob himself and that was my final card, as to whether he had any involvement in this case and if my ears had heard correctly last night.

Bingo. Nice reaction, Rob. If I'd not been looking for it I doubt I'd have noticed the slight look of panic that swept briefly across his face. For a guy who'd been pretty passive throughout this whole mission he started to ask numerous questions. I told him as much as I knew, after all, I'd decided that he wasn't leaving this room today until I'd extracted a full confession from him. Whichever way it turned out.

He creamed what information he could from me and then casually asked what the plans for today were and maybe it would be good to split up. "You know, Chris, that way we can cover twice as much ground."

So thoughtful.

He suggested that he could take over surveillance from Mark and, seeing that I'm still probably pretty jetlagged, I could go over the cab company documentation.

Not a chance in hell, Rob.

I didn't say that, of course, just smiled sweetly and told him that Malone wanted us to stick together as he was expecting to have some more intel from the office that may involve movement on our behalf. I stood back and surveyed the effect. His eyes gave him away; they flicked over to his mobile, which was sitting on the sofa, and then to the floor.

Guilt, no doubt.

And a desperate need to make a phone call.

I didn't say anything, just grabbed the cab company files and threw a wedge in his direction.

"Okay, so let's start with these shall we, Rob?"

Three hours later he was almost climbing the walls. I'd insisted that we order up dinner and, just to add to his agony, I picked up his phone, which so far hadn't left his side. He jumped as I took it.

"You can pay for this one, Rob," I said, grinning at the look of alarm on his face. "No doubt Malone has given you a bigger expense allowance than me, with you being civilian," I added.

"I bet that pizza delivery place is on recall, eh, Rob?" I moved to press the button and he was by my side before I could move. Was that an indication that he knew what was on recall? Psad, I suspect.

Taking the phone from me he flicked down the buttons, "Nah, I've found a much better one since, Chris, honest you'll love it." He smiled nervously at me.

"Something up, Rob?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.

"No, why?" he answered just a bit too fast.

I paused, "Just that you seen a little...jumpy, like you have something on your mind."

He refused to meet my eye, intent, it would seem, on finding this wonderful pizza company that both he and I knew didn't exist.

He laughed and said that he didn't know what I was talking about, that I sounded a little bit melodramatic and the jetlag was obviously getting to me.

Playing on his confusion I decided to go in for the kill, "Jetlag sure does do strange things to you, Rob. Like the phone call I overhead you make to Psad yesterday. I guess that must have been the imaginings of my overtired brain."

"It was." The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he'd said.

"So you know the call I'm talking about then, Rob?"

He looked flustered at this point and I kinda felt a bit sorry for him, until he opened his big mouth once again.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Keel," he snapped, pulling himself together in an instant.

"Oh, sure you do, Rob. You know the conversation that you intended having with Psad, only he was busy making happy with his little family and couldn't come to the phone."

Before he could answer again, I continued, "I guess you're going to tell me it was a social call, Rob. Maybe it was to let him know about the latest developments CI5 had made." I walked up closer to him at that point, getting into his personal space. "Or maybe it was to let him know that he was being tailed so that he could go pick up his play friend and eat at that nice little restaurant without being bothered by two annoying CI5 guys?

"Why did you do it, Rob? Money, respect, what?" I wanted to know

He laughed then and took a step back, watching me through slitted eyes. "It's simple, Chris. Power. I wanted power and money buys that for me. I wanted in with the big boys but I knew that Malone wouldn't take me into the fold as much as I wanted him to. So when an opportunity came along I took it. It's as good, Chris, just on the wrong side.

"From the minute I arrived at CI5 I knew that I wouldn't fit the bill. Shit, he only takes the best, like you, Chris." There was a heavy note of sarcasm in his voice. "You and your cutesy partner, Sam."

At the mention of Sam's name his face went dark.

"Talking of Sam, does Malone know about your relationship...?" He left the word hanging in the air, a look of smug defiance on his face.

I didn't give him the satisfaction of answering. So he baited me some more.

Suggested that maybe I'd like to forget this conversation ever happened and that maybe he'd not bother to mention my "different outlook" to Malone.

As he understood it, it was one thing having a close relationship but it was totally another fucking your partner.

"You blackmailing me, Rob?" I asked. He laughed, telling me that I could call it what I liked, he was just looking after number one and that I should do the same.

Had I not realized, he asked, that my emotionally crippled partner wasn't going to make it back and with this other little bit of information that Rob was going to share he'd have no doubt that Malone would kick us both out on our butts together.

"Two fuck buddies, out on their asses. That's just gotta make you laugh, Chris."

Looking back I'm not too sure which bit of that conversation actually pushed me over the edge, probably the part about Sam being an emotional cripple, but all I knew was that I saw red.

Almost two months of withheld frustrations were visited upon Rob's head. Fucking angry, can't hold his temper, un-cool Keel was back with a vengeance.

I think he was kinda expecting it, probably from the look on my face. Unlike Sam, I've never been very good at doing impassive. He wasn't too surprised when I shoved him up against the nearest wall. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that he was laughing, pleased that he'd managed to stoke me up, that his blackmail attempt was going to work.

I always thought that you didn't know me very well, Rob, and this confirmed it. I'd sooner resign than give in to you and your petty attempts to control my life, once again.

I could have cheerfully knocked him into next week, but managed to contain that thought. I was about to push him into the chair next to the bed and start my 50 questions. What I hadn't bargained for was Rob's mobile phone. The first notice I had that he was still holding it was when it made sharp contact with the side of my head. I remember flying backward, tripping over my own feet to land sideways across the glass table, which shattered upon impact.

The warmth of blood rushing down my forearm told me that I was cut, and a sharp throbbing pain followed momentarily taking over from the ache that was now growing in my head. Anger motivated me past both and I was back on my feet, my head still reeling, to shove Rob once again back into the wall. Only this time I held him there, punching him in the stomach to let him know that I meant business.

I was in full rant by then, unable to stop myself. If Sam had been here he would, no doubt, have pulled me back and made me see sense. But Sam was in the UK, completely unaware that I was currently beating the shit of Rob and wrecking a hotel room in the process.

It felt good, really good.

It ended when I landed a punch on Rob that knocked him out, by which time I was sweating, the blood mingling with my sweat, running down my arm and stinging my face.

I dragged Rob over to the radiator and cuffed him to it and then I collapsed onto my bed exhausted and this time not from jetlag but from a million and one emotions that had thrust to the surface in my violent outburst.

I should feel guilty, but I don't.

I guess I might later.

****

When I opened the door to Backup later her face was a picture. I'd not bothered to clean up and I guess I did look one hell of a mess.

"I take it you have a good explanation for all this, Chris?" She swept her arms around the room, encompassing our civilian colleague who was lying out cold on the floor.

I nodded, ducking away from her fingers that were about to probe at the wound to my head.

"Later," I said, moving over to Rob and shaking him awake, giving Backup a quick synopsis of the night's events.

Rob woke groaning that he needed a doctor, yeah me too I told him but neither of us would be seeing one until he'd told us everything that he knew.

I wasn't surprised when he did tell. He's basically weak and with his alternative avenue cut off he was quick to start dealing with us for what information he had.

Unfortunately, he didn't have anything on our Mr Meath. It would appear that Rob had been kept out of that particular loop.

Rob's dealings with Psad go way back to some semi-shady deal that he was part of a few years back. When he was initially contacted by me he'd seen a window of opportunity for further advancement with Malone but, unsure how far that would pan out and his greediness getting the better of him, he decided to play both sides to his advantage. Getting in touch with Psad and passing him little bits of information whilst playing whiter than white to Malone.

There was one piece of interesting news. He gave us details of a meeting that was taking place between Psad and another man, whose name he didn't know, at a nightclub downtown. Rob was, apparently, in line for a healthy bank balance if he could keep CI5 off the track whilst Psad had his meeting. Backup and I both exchanged looks at the mention of the other man; I knew that I was thinking of Meath.

When I queried what the meeting was about, he clammed up, saying that he wasn't giving any more information unless we made it worth his while. I was losing my patience by then, the tiredness and my own injuries getting the better of me.

I grabbed his shirt and threatened to rearrange his face (again) if he didn't give me all the details right now. At that point Backup intervened, pulling me away from him and telling me to go get cleaned up, she'd deal with him, and that he wasn't worth my anger.

Shit, she was right about that. I hated Rob at that moment, hated everything he stood for and hated myself for the fact that I could have actually had a relationship with him and not know him for what he really was. How the hell was I so blind? I didn't know whether the anger was at my own vanity or stupidity and I didn't have time to dwell on it. If I'm honest, I didn't want to think about it at all. My life over the last three months has been confusing to say the least and I didn't need to add to that angst, at least not right now. So I stashed it away in that little box in the corner of my mind.

I came back from the bathroom marginally less bloody to find Rob slumped against the radiator again looking decidedly sulky. I don't know what Backup said, or did, but it had the desired affect. Rob had told her that he knew Psad would be exchanging the Gentern plans tomorrow at the meeting.

With Backup convinced that she'd wrung him dry, I left her to organize a nice cosy cell for Rob with our friendly neighborhood cops, whilst I called Ops to give Malone the good news.

Spencer answered the phone. He mentioned, briefly, that he'd been to see Sam earlier this evening and that he seemed in good spirits. That was a piece of news worth having, though how true Sam's good spirits actually are begs belief. I was pleased, however, that he'd had a visitor to keep his mind off other things.

Spence was in a good mood. He was really pleased about the news of the potential raid. He said that it would be nice if Backup and I could tie this case up shortly and get back home. I read that as 'I'm missing Backup' and it made me smile, because I know exactly how he feels. I'm missing Sam and hearing someone else speak about him has lifted my spirits. And knowing that he's had some company has eased the guilt I feel at not being able to call him tonight.

Spencer was glad that at last we had something we could act upon and hopefully bring home a good result. He said that Malone was in a meeting and would probably want to talk to me, so I should expect a call.

****

Malone called whilst my bum was numbing on a plastic chair in the waiting room of the Washington Hospital Center. He queried the noise (a talented drunk singing Blues Brothers) but didn't comment on my remarks that I'd taken a tumble when apprehending Rob. "Whatever needs must, Mr Keel. Are you able to continue with the brief?" he asked in that clipped English tone. I told him that I would be (after a decent night's sleep).

I'd told Backup that the cuts were superficial and she'd looked sternly at me, her eyebrows arching as she glanced down at my blood soaked sweater. "Yes, Chris, that's why it's still bleeding profusely, because it just needs a band aid." I guess with her on my case I didn't stand a chance and I was deposited at the hospital with all the grace of a drive by. Well, she did have Rob in the back to contend with so I guess being escorted was asking a little too much!

I've taken a couple of painkillers in the hope that the throbbing in my arm will subside enough for me to get a couple of hours sleep.

I'm tempted to ring Sam, very tempted, but I know that he'd be able to pick up on my mood and want to know what's wrong. And then he'd worry and that would be cruel because there is nothing he can do from his end. It's just that I'm hurting all over and the sound of his voice would go a long way to soothing those pains away. I know that sounds really mushy but it's true. To be able to sleep curled up against him would also be nice - warm and comforting. It's a lovely thought to go to sleep with and hopefully it will be a reality again soon.

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