Conversion

by Farad

Alternate Universe

Pairings: C/B, C/V, C/B/V

Warnings: DARK!, implications of non-con, forced drug use, coercion, much angst.

Summary: In yet another AU, Chris and Vin save the world - but at one hell of a price.

Beta-ed by the wonderful Au Kestral, Annie, Artisan, Charlotte, Estee, Moonpuppy, and The_Summoning_Dark. Yes - it took that many poor people suffering to produce this monstrosity. Any typos, mess-ups, and conceptual issues are entirely my own, my poor betas have suffered as much as the boys in this story!!!

File Size: Approx. 320K

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

- 01.20 minutes fusion point

Chris could feel the very air around him humming, shimmering as the ionization increased, the reactor going. Damn the Albouais and their desperation and sacrilegious need to win. The attack here, without warning, was against all concept of fair play. They were starting the war again, as if they hadn't agreed to peace just a year ago.

"Out!" he screamed, looking for Buck to make sure he was out - he'd never come in, thankfully, holding the line at the end of the corridor, keeping the Albies from access to the power-generating materials at the core. "Get those doors closing!"

Vin was already at the panel, his hands deftly working the code as people streamed past him, fleeing the containment area, fleeing the attack.

Another blast rocked the building, debris falling around them - why were they attacking again?

But they were, targeting the power station for this quarter of the planet, to take the resources they needed for themselves -

"Get that damned door!" he screamed, but Vin's voice came back, just as angry.

"The mechanism's jammed, central switching's probably hit. We're gonna have to do this manually."

Chris helped one of the technicians back to her feet - the building was trembling, klaxons louder and more strident as the field failure grew imminent. The Albouais had surrounded the perimeter, not a large enough force to control it, but enough to take what they needed from the core reactors. To steal what they needed and to restart the war at the same time.

He ran to help Vin, moving around the last people out, lab techs from the lowest levels. He wondered how many there were, wondered how many different experiments this plant had running. Vin was struggling with one of the large panel sections, trying to get it open. His hands were slipping on the ceramic plating, the ionization affecting solid forms. Chris didn't want to think about what it was doing to their bodies -

"Dammit!" the other man swore, but then the catch gave and the panels slid apart.

Not that it mattered - the manual release wasn't working either.

"Outside!" Chris shouted, grabbing his teammate by the shoulder. "We'll use the one outside! We can't let them into the core!"

But even as they moved, the door gave way, the fail-safe engaging as the containment field vanished.

White. Blinding white. Then nothing.

+ 19.75 hours fusion point

Vin woke - or thought he did, but he wasn't certain . He hurt, but it wasn't like any pain he'd ever felt: it was a sort of tingling, tickling, bugs-all-over-and-inside feeling that just bordered on an ache. Opening his eyes didn't seem to help much - he still couldn't tell if he was awake or not.

Everything was white - bright white like he was in a cloud or a white room where he couldn't see where the walls met each other or the floor.

"Tanner?" It didn't sound like a voice, not one he knew, but the third time he registered the noise, he knew it was supposed to be his name.

He tried to speak but couldn't feel his mouth - couldn't feel any of the muscles of his body doing as he told them to, only that strange sensation that was pain but wasn't. Only all this whiteness.

More noise, slowly coalescing into words. "You're alive. So is Larabee. But the radiation . . . you blew the core before the Albouais could get it. We don't know how you survived. We're going to get you out of there, but it's going take a while. It wasn't ready for testing, so they're having to build a containment unit for you. You're going to make history. Just rest for now."

Something seemed to shift in the whiteness then, and, very slowly, images began to permeate the intense nothingness: shadows at first, then outlines, then colors, then depth.

At first, it still didn't make sense, these yellow and red things in front of him, leaning over him, faceless and distorted. It took a while for his brain to pull up the memory of protective suits - radiation suits.

These weren't the emergency ones they kept in the shuttles, but the bulky, almost outdated ones they used for long-term space exposure. The ones that they wore when the radiation was terminal.

He found some little bit of his body, finally managing to turn his head, to understand where he was. Still inside the reactor room. His last memory had been of the door closing, Chris' hand on his, pulling -

Chris.

Movement was slow and seemed to require every bit of his concentration, but eventually he was able to focus. Chris was on his back, like Vin, his eyes closed. Vin knew it had to be his eyes: right now, Chris seemed to be golden, glowing in a way that couldn't be right.

He forced his arm to move, blinking first with the effort, then the surprise of his own flesh coming into view, a deeper, shinier gold even than Chris.

"Tanner?" a voice said, and he noticed movement in the edge of his vision. "Don't - we don't know how the radiation's affecting each of you, but the atomic structure is different! Don't- "

Chris's forearm was hot under his fingers, but dry, no sweat, the muscle tight -

He was knocked back, his arm swinging wide, his whole body skidding across the uneven flooring. Pain came, different from before, but thankfully brief as he was consumed once more in white.

+ 3 months, 18.67 days fusion point.

"It's been three months." Chris ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the long bangs back on his head.

Not that it mattered; as soon as his hands fell away, landing hard on the table in front of him, the long strands drifted back down, framing his face and curtaining his eyes. Not that they could hide the new glow that deepened the green color: even when his lids were closed, the color was there.

Buck's own hands knotted into fists, the desire to reach out and run his fingers through that hair so strong that he almost couldn't stop it.

But it wouldn't happen, not with the layers of glass and plexi and whatever else the engineers had devised to protect the outside world from the radiation his partner produced. This room, the 'visitor's room', was small and sterile, reminding Buck of the interrogation rooms he'd seen in detention centers; cold metal chairs, hard metal tables, nothing that the radiation could hurt. Nothing comfortable. Outside, there were lab techs and nurses and security guards with some of the most expensive and efficient weapons the Administration could afford.

In here, it was just as cheerless as a prison.

The walls of the room around them were as thick as he was wide, and the doors he had to come through to get in were blast doors, requiring successive different codes to open. He didn't even have a code himself, although he and the rest of the team had been vetted for security clearance to get onto this floor.

"They're doing everything they can, Chris. Mary thinks they may be getting close to something. If nothing else, she thinks they may be able to alter one of you - you or Vin. The experiments they were working on with that reactor saved your life. It's just a matter of time before they figure out how to adapt the reactor to change you, back to normal eventually, but now even just to the same type. If that works, at least the two of you can share living quarters, get you some company. And if it works, it'll give her somewhere to start looking for a way to get the two of you out of this altogether. She's making progress," he said for what seemed to be the millionth time. "It's not fast but - "

"I know!" This time, the connection of his fist to the table was louder and intentional. He pushed up from the chair, pacing the small area of the antechamber; the rest of his living space - 'the cell', as he called it, was solid, with only one doorway into his section.

Containment.

Vin's quarters were behind Buck, behind another plexi-and-glass antechamber behind him, as empty and cold as this one. "I hate this," Chris muttered, the litany starting. "Should have just let me - "

"Don't!" Buck snarled, standing himself. "Don't say that!" He didn't try to stop himself this time, letting his hands touch the clear wall between them, cool and flat and dead. "Chris, don't," he said more softly, almost a whisper, knowing the microphones would pick it up.

Chris sighed, coming to a halt before slowly turning to peer through his hair at his lover. The look on his face, the want, the need, the desperation, made Buck hurt.

But not as bad as the words. "I miss you," Chris breathed. "If I'd known . . . "

But they hadn't. Hadn't even suspected that something like this could happen. He and the others - Nathan, Josiah, Ezra, JD - they'd mourned for a week before they'd been told that Chris and Vin were alive - comatose, but alive.

Radiated in a freak way that made it impossible for them to be around anything living, except for the test animals being used in several top-secret projects being conducted in the power plant. Six of the rats used in those projects had survived the reactor breach, two of them already 'converted', as Dr. Fowler, the scientist in charge of the experiments, liked to call it, and the other four caught in the conversion like Chris and Vin.

Like Chris and Vin, the rats were a danger to anything living. It had been practical to put them in containment with Chris and Vin, but Vin's atomic nature was more forgiving than Chris'; they'd almost lost one of the rats when Chris had touched it, the shock sending it into cardiac arrest. Vin had taken it upon himself then to care for them.

Not for the first time, Buck almost wished the doctors hadn't told the rest of the team that the two men were still alive. Mourning for the dead was painful but, in its way, finite.

Mourning for the living seemed to grow harder every day, complicated by the secrecy and fear surrounding what they now were.

"They'll figure it out. Mary said they were making progress on the rats," he said, meeting Chris' gaze. "You gotta believe that."

Chris said nothing, just took a slow step forward. He reached out, his hand coming to the wall between them, mirroring Buck's.

The clear materials seemed to brighten as he connected, the surface under Buck's hand warming. They couldn't do this for long - Chris couldn't touch these materials for more than a few seconds. Only metals and ceramics seemed impervious to long-term exposure.

"I love you," Buck said, willing it to be enough. "We'll get through this."

Chris didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

+ 4 months, 27.76 days fusion point.

"Gotcha!" Chris murmured, grinning as he clicked the switch, his markers lighting as the sixth one fell into line.

Above the image of the glowing game board, Vin frowned. "Dammit, Chris, how the hell . . ." He sighed, sitting back heavily in his chair. "Don't know why I keep playing this damned game with you. You're as bad as Ezra with a deck of cards."

Chris grinned at him, clicking on the icon that reset the game. "Again?"

Vin snorted. "Yeah, I can't think of much I'd rather do than sit here and get beat again by you. Unless maybe I had a beer, some whiskey, or a pretty lady to distract me."

"Could be worse. We could be betting money," Chris reminded him, leaning back in his chair.

"Ain't like we're spending any," Vin shot back.

But something in the way he said it wasn't just his usual sarcasm. Chris looked at him, trying to see past the glow and the shadows and Vin's reticence. "Vin?" he asked quietly, putting all the worry into the one word.

Vin shook his head, and when he looked up, there was a grin on his face.

But Chris knew the other man well enough to know it was a fake. "You all right?"

Vin made a noise that was supposed to be a laugh. "What the hell could be better? We're getting a nice vacation from the war, in here with no distractions, getting to sit around and play games all day, watch all the video stuff we want, keeping these rats for pets - hell, I been looking for this all my life! Sure, let's play again."

He was looking away from the screen, down at his comm pad, and any other time or place, Chris might not have noticed. But this 'thing' that was wrong with them, this 'condition of irradiation', as the medical reports called it, left all of their fluids shiny and hard to mistake, even in the darkness they were coming to prefer. The slender lines creeping down Vin's face weren't wet, but there was a shimmer, as if a snail had inched over the taut skin of his cheeks.

He'll be better tomorrow, Chris told himself. But even as he made the first move in the game, working for the distraction, he wondered how many times he had told himself that lately.

+ 5 months, 31.35 days fusion point.

Buck dropped heavily into a chair at the table in the common room, scrubbing at his neck and listening to Ezra bitching about the damage to his uniform. It was bullshit: the tear was minor and could be repaired with little effort, but Ezra was winding up into a truly amusing whine, and all of them could stand it right now.

The mission had been a bust from the start. It was obvious to everyone that the Albies were making headway, winning a little more ground with every attack. The second quadrant was in ruins, the death toll staggering. The fact that their team had gotten away with minor injuries and minor damage to the ship was a tribute to their competence and to a lot of luck.

Josiah was still with the shuttle, helping Casey, their weapons tech, and the engineers repair the damage. JD was still with the shuttle because Casey was with the shuttle. Buck grinned; maybe the boy was finally learning something.

"We got beer?" Nathan asked, coming through the door from his room into the common room. He had already showered, a towel draped around his shoulders that he was using to scrub at his hair.

"No," Ezra snapped back, "we do not have beer. We do, however, have that swill that you inaccurately refer to as 'beer' - and you would think that, in this time of darkness, when we are giving everything we have and more," he gestured toward the rip in his sleeve, "the powers that be in the Administration would have the common decency to provide those of us who are putting our lives on the line with recreational beverages that are at the very least palatable!"

"You'd think," Nathan agreed, pushing Ezra out of the way of the cold unit. "Beer, Buck?"

"Damned straight, Nathan, thanks." He glanced to the common room's terminal, not surprised to see the message light blinking. As usual, Vin had called to check on them; they almost always had a call from him on the i.d. after a mission - no message, he still didn't say much, but a reminder for them to check in and let him know they were all right.

As Nathan put a beer on the table in front of him, Buck hit the 'return' on the message. He nodded his thanks to Nathan, who sat down across from him, as the terminal beeped that it was attempting to connect.

Buck opened his beer and took a sip, then frowned as the familiar 'beep' came again, and there was still no answer. "They weren't doing anything to Vin today, were they?" he asked to the room in general.

Nathan shook his head, and Ezra frowned. "Not that he's mentioned, but then, he rarely mentions anything." He took several steps toward them. "He appears to be napping a lot more as of late."

"Napping?" Nathan asked. "Wonder if that's some new side-effect of the radiation. Chris been sleeping more?" He looked to Buck.

Buck shrugged, frowning as well. "Not that I've noticed. Not that he's said." He took another sip of beer, thinking. As he swallowed, he said, "Chris mentioned something the other day about Vin being less talkative, but I thought he was making a joke of it. Vin don't talk a lot even when he's feeling chatty. But now that you mention it, he is kinda hit-and-miss about answering his calls lately."

Nathan sighed, turning his beer bottle in his fingers. "I don't remember seeing or hearing anything about a medical problem, but I'll check with Mary. The last several times I've talked to him, he's seemed a little less lively than I'm used to. Thought it was just me, but could be he's getting into some depression. It's been, what - five months since the accident?"

"Almost six," Buck answered with no thought. He thought about how long it had been every morning when he got up and Chris wasn't in the bed with him.

They were silent for several minutes, even Ezra making less noise than usual as he moved back into the kitchen-area and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He was the one who finally broke the silence, his voice unusually flat. "Inez informed me recently that Mr. Tanner's lovely paramour has been back in communication with her former husband, Mr. Richmond. It would seem that she's finding her lack of consort to be a trifle disagreeable."

Buck snorted. "I feel her pain. Don't mean I'm looking for someone to replace Chris."

Ezra came back to the table, taking the seat at the head of it. "No, but you are not the type of person who needs someone to validate your self-worth."

Before Buck could comment, Nathan spoke up. "Raine said Charlotte was talking about having kids. Talking about being tired of waiting. That don't sound like someone who's giving Vin a lot of support. Charlotte's apparently stopped visiting him in person, afraid the exposure's gonna affect her ovaries."

Buck took another sip of his beer, feeling decidedly uneasy. "You think she's told Vin?" he asked.

Ezra and Nathan exchanged a quick look, then Ezra said, "It's hardly likely he would share such information with us. He's close-mouthed under the best of circumstances and the current situation is hardly 'best'."

"More likely he'd tell Chris," Nathan said.

Buck nodded, understanding the implied suggestion. "I'll talk to Chris." He chugged back the rest of his beer, then rose as Nathan did.

"I'll try to get to Mary," the medic said, carrying his own beer as he turned toward his door. "This situation gets shittier every day."

"Don't it just," Buck agreed, tossing his beer bottle into the waste box, "like they ain't got it bad enough being trapped up there in a couple of cells." His eyes went to the large window of the common-room suite; across the wide valley, he could just make out the square top of the tallest building in the research complex, built over one of the first quadrant's secondary power stations. Chris and Vin were housed up there, their own little prison built as close to the sky as the engineers could get.

The real irony was that they never got to see it, no windows allowed in their tiny rooms.

The lights came up as soon as he entered the room he and Chris shared, and from habit, he moved straight to the desk and activated the comm system. Chris' i.d. was at the top of the 'connect-panel' and he did exactly that, stripping off his shirt, then sitting down on the bed to take off his boots.

"Didn't realize I'd ordered a floor show," Chris' voice sounded through the room, letting Buck know he had forgotten to turn the speakers down this morning when he'd finished his call to his mother.

He looked up as he pulled off his boots, grinning for the other man. "Been tellin' you it's the way to go, stud. Just get me a bigger monitor, get you one - hell, they have to give you new ones every month anyway, right? Next time just tell 'em you want one of them wall-sized ones!"

"Yeah," Chris said dryly, "so I can see every inch of you. Me, and every other person looking in on the feed. I ain't that fond of the idea of sharing, Buck."

Buck chuckled as he pulled off his second boot, sitting up. "You're too proud for your own good sometimes. And selfish, depriving the world of the beauty of me in all my glory."

Chris rolled his eyes and Buck grinned wider. The conversation about Vin had left him worried, as much about his lover as his friend. Chris and Vin were two of a kind, and right now, whatever happened to one seemed to be happening to the other. So if Chris was still able to laugh, then Vin probably was too.

"How'd it go today?" Chris asked. "From what I've been able to see on the news feeds, it doesn't look good."

Buck sobered. "Albies got us good this time. Took out the power plant in the fourth quadrant. Used suicide dives to take out the shield. Can't tell what they were trying to get to, whether it was to destroy the core or steal it."

"How many?" Chris asked quietly.

Buck shook his head. "They're still trying to figure out what kind of detonation it was. But it took out the plant and most of the countryside around it. If it was old-style nuclear, and the cloud sure looked like it, then there's gonna be fall-out. The containment ships got there as quick as possible and salted it down, but you know how quick nuclear works. Be days before we get a clear idea of the damage. They vented as much of the energy into space as they could, but we're still gonna feel some tickling. Probably tomorrow before we have any idea of the status of the reactor core."

Chris sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. Buck envied that hand right now, and that thought brought him back to Vin. "How are things in there?" he asked. "You talked to Vin today?"

Chris frowned, blinking. His mind was on the war, Buck knew, and the subject change would not go unnoticed.

"Little while this morning. Why? They find more rats for his collection?"

Buck smiled at that. "Don't know yet. Wouldn't be surprised." He saw the wince of distaste on his lover's face; Chris had never been big on critters, other than Buck himself. "Nah, Ez, Nate, and I were just talking 'bout how Vin's gotten kinda hard to reach. He told Ez he was napping a lot and it got us a little worried that something was wrong that nobody knew about."

Chris shook his head. "I'm all right, Buck. Vin has been a little more tired than usual lately."

"Nathan thinks it might be depression," Buck said, testing the waters. "Vin acting all right?"

Chris leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "As compared to what? A man not trapped in a cell with only rats for company?"

It was hard to argue the point, of course.

Chris sighed. "He's all right, as all right as he can be, I reckon. He hasn't said anything but I haven't asked either. I'll check on him. Thanks for letting me know, Buck."

Buck nodded, wishing he could touch Chris. It was getting harder to curb the desire, the need. "Ma said to tell you 'hi'," he said, changing the subject himself this time.

+ 8 months, 5.34 days fusion point.

"You're - you're not serious," Chris growled, staring at the monitor screen. It was split, one side showing Vin, his long hair hanging limp and tangled, his features sharp and bright despite the darkness of his room, a darkness like Chris' own.

The other side showed the pale features of their primary doctor, Mary Travis, sitting at her cluttered desk. Her hair was pinned on top of her head, but wisps of it had come loose, the white-gold color irritatingly bright.

She frowned, an expression that marred the cold beauty of her face. "I know it's a little invasive - "

"A little?" Vin's voice was brittle with his anger. "It ain't bad enough you got us locked up in here - watching everything we do - everything!" He twisted away from the camera, rising and moving completely out of sight, but Chris had seen his friend's face, seen the anguish.

He felt it too, and embarrassment on top of it. "How in the hell can you know for sure?" he seethed, giving vent to his own frustration. "Ain't like I've been much in the mood, and I don't think Vin has either!"

Mary took a deep breath, and to her credit, she blushed. But her voice was calm. "I'm sorry, I promise you, we wouldn't be having this conversation if . . . if there was any other way."

"Well, that makes me feel fucking wonderful," Vin said snidely. "We could all just go on pretending we don't know you watch us jack off at night - you watch us in the showers too - ain't a place in here where a camera ain't on me!"

Chris heard the thud, knew that Vin had punched the wall. It wasn't reassuring that the other man was as angry and frustrated and desperate as he was. Maybe more. Vin couldn't stand confinement, hated to be inside. The situation was driving him to the edge.

And now this - no privacy, which they'd known, but now, not even the pretense any longer.

"Vin," Mary said softly, "I'm sorry. But this whole thing is as new to us as it is to you. Everything we know, every little bit of information - "

"What can you possibly learn from watching me jack off?" he yelled. "It matter how I touch myself? You gonna come in here in your rubber safety suit and do me?"

Chris winced at the volume, saw Mary do the same before she answered, "Would it help?"

Vin still hadn't come back to his seat, and he didn't answer, just the sound of his harsh breathing telling him he was still in this conversation.

The hell of it, Chris thought, was that it would help, and they all knew it. He was desperate for touch and closeness, at this point. Months of having only the company of visiting friends and the fucking cameras mounted in every corner, covering every angle... he'd learned to ignore them early, but as time wore on, he'd actually come to need them, craving even the illusion of human contact even if it was with anonymous doctors and medics and technicians, scientists and engineers. Even that had come to be better than this all-consuming isolation. The isolation was harder than he would ever have thought. Not just from Buck, though that was the hardest, but from every one. He'd never thought it possible that he could miss the closeness of their crowded shuttle, the smell of male bodies over-ripe from activity, the constant brush of arms and legs and everything.

"So what's the point of this?" he asked, his own anger giving way to the perpetual depression that was the only secret he tried to keep from Buck. "When either of us gets off," he choked on the words, "there's an energy spike - you telling us that's dangerous? We need to stop doing that too?"

From Vin's side there was a sound like a moan, low and short, and another thud of flesh hitting something hard and solid.

Mary had the good grace to blush again, darker this time. "After the, uh, first time, we adjusted the level of the containment field. It's not dangerous, not now."

But it had been. And they had known and not told them.

He hunched forward, his hand over his face. "Then what does it matter now?" he asked, forcing the words through his clenched teeth. "Why are you telling us if it's not a problem?" She'd never struck him as the type to get off on humiliating them - and there had certainly been enough of that during this ordeal.

She sighed, rubbing at her temple before saying, "I know you know what's going on with the war," she started slowly.

He nodded; even locked away in here, they knew things were bad, had thought more than once that maybe he and Vin should be let loose among the Albies, kill as many of them as they could before they were killed. He'd even suggested it a couple of times, but so far, none of their superiors had taken him seriously. Not yet.

Maybe it was time.

But that didn't explain why she had started the conversation with an announcement of the unexpected side-effects of the one thing they could still do to take the edge off aloneness and depression. He wouldn't go so far as to say he enjoyed it any more, unless Buck was around, but it was something. And something was better than nothing, as Buck liked to keep telling him.

"The Albouais have managed to destroy two of the main power plants - all of our power is currently generated by the last two plants, working over-time." This wasn't news, but he knew it wasn't intended to be. She was talking to give herself time. "We don't have enough energy to power most of the satellite weapons - when the Albouais attack, we have to shut down systems everywhere on the planet just to defend ourselves."

The idea came from the back of Chris' mind, dark and ugly.

It was Vin, though, who gave it voice. "So some smart guy came up with the idea to do what - get us to play with ourselves while the fuckers attack so we can power the cannons?" His voice was raw and hard, sounding like Chris felt.

Mary swallowed, not looking at the camera. "Dr. Fowler thinks he's devised a conversion unit and a storage chamber for the energy. It wouldn't have to be during an attack."

"Fowler," Chris said, "the guy with the lab rats." The guy who was responsible for the experiment that had been going on when the reactor blew. The experiment that had made them into radioactive freaks.

Mary sighed again. "He put in a proposal with the High Command, and they accepted it under the War Act. He's in charge of the project now, and he answers directly to the Administration."

Chris stared at her, comprehension coming too fast. "He's your boss now."

"And yours," she murmured, meeting his eyes through the connection.

The silence lasted long enough for the full import to hit Chris. Then Vin was laughing, a soft chuckle that grew louder and faster until it was hysterical.

+ 8 months, 17.12 days fusion point.

"Well, they keep telling us we gotta give it all for the war effort," Buck grinned at Chris, trying to get him to smile. "And I know you're giving your best, stud."

That worked, got Chris' lips twitching. But he was looking away from the camera, staring at - well, who knew what? Buck knew the decorations in the quarters of the two irradiated men changed regularly, decaying quickly from the energy Chris and Vin put off. "Don't want to pull you into this," he muttered. "Ain't right, making you - "

"Making me have video sex with you?" Buck chuckled then. "Sounds like the best part of this whole deal so far. Next best thing to being there, Chris, getting to see you. Talk to you. Ain't like I been trying for a while now. Just glad that you finally see the light, even if it has taken orders from those guys upstairs to make you come to your senses."

"And how many of those guys upstairs are getting this show, too?" Chris asked, but there was no anger in it, which was more worrisome than if there had been.

"Mary promised it'd be just us," he soothed, unconsciously touching the monitor where Chris' forehead was creased in a frown. "No taps, no hackers, just us. You and me."

Chris looked back at him, drawing a slow deep breath. "Could be worse," he said, trying to smile. "More 'n what Vin's got."

Buck didn't want to think about Vin right now; Mary'd increased the level of his anti-depressants, but it hadn't been enough. They'd barely gotten suited up and into the room fast enough to stop the bleeding after he'd slashed the length of his forearms with a piece of broken plate. For now, he was sedated, and restrained, chained to his own bed with short lengths of metal cord. Buck knew Chris was hurting as much as the rest of the team, all of them stunned. Vin was the most accepting of them all. If he was that close to the edge, Chris wasn't far behind.

"He's gonna be all right," Buck said quietly, wishing he had paid more attention to Nathan's worries about Vin's depression. Wishing he had pushed Chris just a little harder to talk to Vin, gone just a few more times into the antechamber beside Chris'.

"Wish I could touch you," Chris whispered. "Just one more time."

Buck's breath caught, his throat tightening. "Stop it," he grunted out, "it's gonna happen. Just gotta be patient, Chris." He tried to smile himself, but the knot in his throat grew bigger. "Lost you once, ain't gonna do it again."

He hadn't meant to say it out loud, hadn't meant to ever put that guilt on his lover, and he wanted to pull the words back the second they were gone.

Oddly though, they seemed to help. Chris blinked, the desolation in his eyes fading as the words struck home. Buck knew he was thinking of his own loss, Sarah and Adam, taken in an Albie attack almost four years gone.

The strong chin came up just a little, green eyes flaring in the dimness of the room. "Just the two of us, huh?" Chris said, and Buck saw the resolution he had come to love.

He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "Next best thing to being there," he said, but he let his hands fall to the hem of his undershirt, his uniform shirt taken off as soon as he was off-duty.

It was almost a physical sensation, the weight of Chris' eyes on him, and his nipples tightened before the shirt had hit the floor. His grin was more sincere now, as was the flush of blood to his groin - he'd always loved the way Chris watched him, and even though this was far from what they used to do, it was better than anything they'd done in so long that he was feeling like a teenaged boy again.

Chris' gaze was slow and sensual, his smile more sincere now too. "You look better than ever," he said, his voice a rumble. "Step back a little so I can see - yeah, that's it."

He knew what Chris was looking for and he gave it, not embarrassed one bit. He let his hands tease over his chest, one hand pinching at the brown nubs, the other easing through the swirls of soft brown hair on his chest and belly, the hair Chris loved to pet and pull. The team was still active - just five of them now, each working a little harder to make up for the shortages - so he was in pretty good shape. The shape Chris loved.

He saw it then, the first sign of interest. The tip of Chris' tongue slipped out, tracing a quick path across his lower lip.

Buck let his right hand drift lower, one finger tracing around his belly button, dipping gently in and out.

Chris breath caught, the absence of the sound of it making Buck realize it had been there to start with.

"Hey," he said softly, not stopping his own actions, "don't I get to see something too?" Not that he needed it, really. Just having Chris watch him with those eyes was getting him there fast, but this was... he hated to think of it like this, but it was a mission too. Not just something for them, but a fucking military operation. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

Chris blinked before he was able to draw his eyes back up to meet Buck's. "Wha - oh."

Buck chuckled, but only for a second - until he caught sight of the other man's bare chest. It was almost as he remembered it - broad and hard, long muscles that cut all the way past his waistband, round nipples, larger than Buck's own, but not quite as responsive to touch.

There were differences now though; there had been a trail of golden hair down his sternum and below his belly button, not a swath like Buck's own, but enough to tempt. It was gone now, removed when he'd first been pulled from the reactor room, when the doctors had been doing everything they could to keep them alive. They hadn't known until too late that what was taken wasn't going to grow back - not fast, anyway. So far, Chris had only lost the hair on his chest. With this last little incident, they'd had to use the veins in Vin's groin for the blood transfusion. Buck didn't think that was going to help Vin's mood much when he found out he'd lost yet more of himself.

Chris had lost weight too, moving past slender to skinny, and his muscles were more defined - nothing to do in here but exercise and watch the monitors and their endless babble.

The biggest difference though, the one Buck tried not to react to, was the golden shimmer that rippled in his skin - not on it, but literally in it. With every shift of his muscles, gold seemed to flash and spark, tiny but brilliant explosions that made it seem as though he glittered. Buck tried not to stare, but it was mesmerizing.

Even when he was unmoving, his arms at his sides, he sparkled. Buck wondered if Chris felt the tiny explosions, if they tickled or hurt or shivered, if they would be hot to the touch, like flame or pulses of air or -

"Buck?" The arms moved then, crossing over Chris' chest, and Buck forced his eyes up.

He'd rarely seen Chris nervous, not even the first time they'd made love. Of course, they'd been a little drunk then - not too much, but enough to take some of the edge off their nerves.

Chris didn't have alcohol now - he didn't have anything that would play with the delicate balance of his body. Not even spicy food or sweets - another thing that lowered the quality of their lives.

"You're beautiful," he heard someone say with his voice.

When Chris blushed, the little flares of color were pink. "Dammit," he muttered, moving, bending out of sight of the camera.

"No, Chris - please," Buck called, getting his head back together. "I didn't mean anything. Or I did, but just what I always do. You've always been so fine."

Chris hesitated, only his side and part of his back visible as he held the stretch. Buck tried not to look at the way the shimmering was striating with his tension, faster and brighter. He could only imagine how he lit up when he exercised.

Or when he came . . .

Nathan said Vin's blood had glowed. He wondered if Chris' come would.

"Can't do nothing about the way I look," Chris said quietly. "Part of why they keep it so dark in here - we light the place up. Still makes it hard to go to sleep at night. If there was a night - with no windows, we don't have that either."

"You look - Chris, don't worry about it. It don't bother me. Hell, makes you all the more hot." He meant it, too. Right now, he wanted to run his tongue over that skin, feel those little explosions against his mouth, his own flesh, taste the heat.

Chris slowly levered himself back up, and Buck noticed for the first time that even his nipples sparkled. With the darker skin there, it was harder to tell.

"You sure?" Chris said softly. "I understand if I'm too freaky - "

"You're the same man you were when I fell in love with you," Buck said. "Same man you'll be when we get you out of there." Then he said what he'd thought just a moment ago. "All that light, it just makes me want to taste it, see if you taste like the sun, Chris. See if your skin dances when I lick you, if it's like before or if it's..." he trailed off. "Different" didn't seem like a word Chris would want to hear. "Better," he added out loud.

He wasn't really surprised when Chris didn't answer him, but he was pleased that the other man was staring at him again, the hunger clear on his face.

He let his hands move, drifting over himself, touching. He'd done it enough lately, when he had the energy.

"Show me," he heard Chris murmur, "back up and show me, Buck."

It was their catch-phrase, the cue Chris had always used when he wanted Buck to strip for him. Buck's cock firmed up, not completely there, but close.

"Missed this," he whispered as he slipped a hand over the opening to his pants, pulling it apart. He had; foreplay with Chris had always involved a certain amount of watching, on both their parts. And he knew Chris knew he missed it, from the times he'd tried to suggest it to Chris before. Knew why Chris had refused then and was annoyed that the only reason Chris was agreeing now was because of the war going on over their heads. He shook his head, trying to shake out the thought. Chris was an intensely private man, always had been, and loving Buck hadn't changed that part of him much.

It took both hands to pry the cloth over his hips, but it was a relief when it fell to the floor. He was already barefoot, so stepping out of them took no effort.

Chris' hunger was clearly visible now, his tongue on his lips, his own hands at his groin. "Back up," Chris said, his voice raspy. "Want to see all of you."

He took a step back, then another, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. They would need more cameras, he thought, and bigger monitors. He wanted to see all of Chris too. He wondered if he could get JD to install them for him without asking too many questions.

Wondered if he could get his boss to pay for them . . .

Chris' low moan drew his attention to the man's face - flushed now and a little sweaty, glowing almost. His lips were wet and swollen - everything Buck had hoarded in his memory.

He wasn't aware of stroking himself, but the pressure in his groin was growing. "Your turn," he said - or tried to. The words were a little unclear, but Chris went to work on the opening to his pants.

Chris was as sexy as he had ever been - his hips sharp, his thighs tight, his erection slender and long, dropping iridescent strands that glittered oddly silver.

Silver and gold. Glowing and sparkling. Green eyes burning dark and brilliant, more intense than Buck had ever seen.

Long fingers closed around his shaft, pulling lightly, and Buck found himself feeling it - because he was doing the same. There were no words, just the practiced rhythm, each of them watching the other. Their hands moved in sync, base to tip, skin slick with sweat and their own fluids. Buck fumbled at his balls, saw Chris mirror his motion, thought about touching Chris, the smell of him, the soft noises he was making, little grunts of need, the salty taste of him, heavy and thick on his tongue -

It'd been a while since his orgasm had been this shattering - been a while since he'd been with Chris. It overwhelmed him, erupting from deep within his groin and his psyche, dulling out everything but physical pleasure and his love for Chris.

He was on the bed, he noted as his senses returned, the backs of his legs burning a little from slamming against the metal frame, his butt and shoulders burning a little from sliding over the top sheet. Blinking, he found the monitor screen blank, but the sound of ragged gasps still carried over the audio.

"Chris?" he called, struggling to get his elbows under him. Without thinking, he wiped his hand on the sheets, then pushed up to sit, worried at the monitor's continued blankness. Had something happened - the administration's whole point of this was the energy - Buck had had far more personal reasons for agreeing though. "Chris?"

"Yeah," his lover said weakly, then, "yeah, I'm good. Just gimme . . . " His breathing was ragged but settling, and the grey screen slowly filled in, tiny colored dots appearing to form splotches of image.

After several seconds, the screen resolved. Chris wasn't readily visible, and Buck leaned forward, searching the frame, until movement caught his eye.

Chris drifted in from the side, unsteady, his belly streaked in silver strands - but his skin less golden and bright.

"You all right?" Buck asked, worry catching in his belly. "You look . . . "

"More normal?" Chris finished, but he dropped into a chair so that only his face and shoulders were visible. "Yeah, it's what happens after I - after." He looked away from the camera, one hand pushing his bangs back on his head. "Right after . . . well, it's as close to being normal as we get, at the moment anyway. Wonder how much they got this time. It's been a while since I . . . "

He paused, swallowed, and Buck knew the joy was fading. "Me too," he said, leaning in closer to his own camera. "Miss being with you. This was . . . this was good, Chris. Real good."

Chris was still for a space before turning to face him. "Yeah, it was," he agreed. Then, sadly, he smiled. "Fucked up that it was so good. Wish Vin - " He caught himself, and Buck looked away.

Quietly, he said, "Ezra told us several months ago. No one. . . we didn't know how to tell him, figured Charlotte would eventually get around to it. Hell, I kept hoping maybe she was trying to find a way to let him down easy, or just biding her time 'til he got out."

Chris snorted. "Ain't no way to let a man down easy, Buck, you know that. But finding out - he was already upset at this whole thing. You know how private he is. Sitting there in a conference call with Mary, trying to explain that they wanted Charlotte to do what - well, what we just did . . . that ain't no time to find out that the woman you're planning to marry is cheating on you, hell, dumping you."

"Chris." He said it soft, hoping to cut off the growing anger. "It ain't easy on this side either. I know you don't want to hear it, hell, I know you're right. We should have told him - "

"Damn straight you should have!" Chris hand hit the table, but it wasn't with any real force. "Any one of you could have told me, and I could have told him. Why didn't you, Buck? You taken up with one of your old girlfriends? You and Charlotte got something going on on the side - "

"Goddammit!" He stood, trembling with the anger and the frustration, and the post-release lethargy. "When the hell would I have time?" he snarled back. "Between fighting off the fucking Albouais, trying to stay alive, and spending every free minute I got trying to keep you sane, when the fuck do I have time to give to anyone else? I ain't got time to sleep now, Chris!"

Chris stared at him, his face showing a sort of shock, and Buck hated himself. He'd never meant to tell Chris this, never meant for him to know how hard it really was on him, on the team.

They'd just had sex together, at least more 'together' than they'd been able to in almost a year. And now they were fighting, tearing each other apart because Vin was hurt, they were all scared, and this was going on too long.

Because they'd just had sex together and they couldn't touch.

"I didn't mean that," he breathed, wishing he were in the damned plastic room so he could at least see Chris eye to eye. "I'm just tired. We're all tired."

"How bad is it?" Chris asked.

Buck scrubbed a hand through his hair, tired. "We're handling it," he answered, looking around for his clothes. "Ain't nothing for you to worry about - "

"Buck."

He didn't want to look into those eyes, even if they were, for the first time since the 'accident', the real eyes of the man he loved. He searched around until he found his pants, but he didn't hurry to pull them on. "We're holding our own, still the best team out there. You've seen the reports, you know what we're doing."

"I know what goes in those reports ain't all of what's going on in the field. Tell me."

Buck stood to fasten the pants, then looked around for a shirt. They were in the dresser, far enough away. "I just did," he answered. "We're holding our own. You know, this ain't the kinda afterglow I was hoping for, lead dog, so let's just cut to it: I ain't cheating on you, don't want to and yeah, things are so fucked up I wouldn't have time to even if I did. Which, believe it or not, I don't. We were all wrong not to tell Vin, and we know that now. Hell, the boys are as shook up as you and me. If any one of us had thought it'd be that way . . . "

Chris sighed, the sound drifting through the room. "I understand that," he finally agreed. "I just . . . I guess I've been so locked up in here that I've forgotten what it's like out there. We don't . . . we don't get anything but what they let us have."

Something caught in his voice, and no will of his own could stop Buck from walking back to face that monitor.

"They let us have this," he said, pulling at the desk chair and settling into it. "They let us have each other, or as close to it as we can get right now. And it's gonna get better, Chris, Mary's got some ideas, her people are working hard on this. They want to help you and Vin."

Chris was looking down, his hair hiding his face. "I know," he said, but the words were empty.

Buck leaned in closer. "Don't you go thinking like Vin, you hear me? I ain't losing you to this, Chris, I ain't looking for nobody else, don't want nobody else." Probably never had, but that was a different argument, not for now. "We'll get through this. It's just a matter of time."

Chris didn't move, even his hair still, as if the image were a photograph.

"Chris, you hear me?" He heard the edge of desperation in his own voice. "Don't you give up on me."

"All right," Chris said, cutting him off. His head tilted, strands of blond shifting in the dim light. "Might be better for you if you went on, Buck. You could have someone with you instead of - of - this, you could have what you deserve."

"I'm the only one who can say what I deserve," Buck said flatly. "And what I don't deserve is you acting like what we got ain't worth holding onto. I know you hate this. I do too. We all do. But it's way too damned early for you to be giving up, too damned early for Vin, too. I'll take part of the blame for Vin. We should have played straight with him about it. But I am playing straight with you, Chris. I'm waiting this out and I'd be damned thankful if you'd do me the favor of doing the same."

He'd worked to keep the anger out of his voice; the words were harsh enough. Under other circumstances, he might have given in to it, yelled a little, thrown a few things, slammed a door or two. But under other circumstances, he and Chris could have fucked each other senseless afterwards, the make-up sex as physical as the fight.

There was no make-up sex now, only the weight of Vin's hurt hanging over them, between them, almost as solid as the walls.

"Yeah," Chris whispered finally, looking up. "I'll try."

"Can't ask for much more," Buck smiled, noticing the faint glow behind the green. Recharging, he thought, hating the word. "Now, how 'bout we talk about next time we do this?"

+ 9 months, 12.06 days fusion point.

Vin kept his eyes closed, wishing, for once, that he had a blindfold.

Not because he was afraid of what they were going to do; at this point, it hardly mattered. Only the drugs Mary kept pumping into his system kept the darkness at bay, that and sleep. As long as there were no dreams, so that he didn't have to see, again, the horror on Charlotte's face when Mary had told her what they were doing. Why they were doing it.

Then Charlotte had finally spoken, saying that Will would never allow it.

They'd brought in an expert, of course, another brilliant thinker to 'help him deal with this'. Another person to probe into him, pry out information that wasn't any of their damned business. This one, Dr. Greer, was a pretty woman with long hair and a sweet smile who wanted him to know that there were other women out there, that what had happened with Charlotte was painful but not worth dying over.

She didn't understand - they didn't understand. It wasn't about Charlotte, not the way they thought. Hell, yes, it'd hurt. They'd had plans - wedding, kids, little house in the jungles of the fourth quadrant, down near the wild rivers. He'd never felt about anyone the way he had about her, had even been thinking about giving up the service. Giving up Chris and the boys, because she was scared of him getting killed and leaving her alone. That should have been a clue, he knew now, he should have realized that she'd never manage this separation. Should have seen it coming.

Yeah, it hurt. But it wasn't all of it. Not even finding out she'd lied to him, that she'd been back with Will, the bastard, had been enough, not on its own. But that was the hell of it. It was the whole damned thing.

"It shouldn't hurt, Vin," Mary's voice carried over the intercom into the chamber, sweet and amused. "Don't worry."

He wasn't worried about that either.

He just didn't want to see them, didn't want to see the people moving around him, big orange robots, dark against the shiny metal and white instruments and machines. Didn't want to be reminded that just lying here on this table, his arms still wrapped in gauze and bandages, he was a threat to them.

"Vin?" More insistent this time, demanding that he respond. "You all right?"

He dredged up the energy, still keeping his eyes closed. "Yeah," he said. "Fine."

The procedure didn't take long, and she was right, there was no pain. There was discomfort though, a sort of low-level grating like things rubbing against each other that shouldn't be, only deep inside. It was irritating, almost as much so as the confinement of the machine he was in - a reactor, he knew and tried desperately not to think about.

Had he been less drugged, he might have panicked. As it was, he didn't give a damn.

The clicking of the wheels on the rolling bed, the coolness of moving air let him know that he was being moved again, from the reactor, back into 'the coffin' as he and Chris had dubbed it. The heavy and energized box they put them in to transport them from their quarters to the lab, on the occasions when they had to be moved. 'Hazardous materials' was stamped across it in big orange letters, and it required a security code to open.

He hated the damned thing. The first time they'd used it, he'd hyper-ventilated, waking up with an oxygen mask and an arm full of sedatives.

If they'd been able to bring the reactor to him, they would have. They tried to move the two men as little as possible, trying to minimize the danger to others.

"We'll be home soon," Mary's voice called gaily through the ever-present audio system into 'the coffin'.

Home. The bigger coffin.

He wondered what it would be like to suffocate.

+ 9 months, 35.06 days fusion point.

"We can store the energy for a week to ten days," Fowler said, looking at Chris. "But we need as much as you can produce." He pressed a button on his computer. "This should be to your e-mail - now."

Chris tried to unclench his jaw, but the tension had locked it.

"Those are the priorities to which it's been allocated - Dr. Travis and Dr. Greer thought it would make it more presentable for you to know that you're doing it for specific things." His face was unreadable, as if he were handing over a budget analysis or a report on weapons' allocation.

Chris looked up at him, his palms itching. He wanted to hit this man, this bastard who sat there, presuming to dictate to him.

The only good part of this was that Vin wasn't in on this conversation. He was having the fourth treatment, not the last one, but the one Mary felt was pivotal. They'd know after this one if they could change his ionization. If he could, at least, be in the same cage with Chris.

"You want more, Fowler?" he asked. More of him jerking off typically meant more of Buck, so it wasn't like he'd been complaining, but Fowler acted like they'd had to torture him to gain his cooperation. And it was its own kind of torture, better and worse with Buck there--better, because he missed Buck more than he was willing to say; Buck came here every hour he wasn't working, which was too few and told him more than anything how badly things were going outside. Better because sex with Buck even when all they could do was look at each other was closer to the man than he'd been in almost a year now. Worse because it was as close as they could get in the foreseeable future--he'd given up listening to Dr. Travis's hopeful reports on their efforts to fix him and Vin--and it wasn't close enough. Not even close to close enough. "Is that the point of this little chat? You're telling me I have to whore myself more for you?"

He had the pleasure of seeing Fowler flinch, the muscles of his face fighting not to sneer. "Seems a bit rude, even for you, Chris - you don't mind if I call you that, do you? Given the nature of this 'chat', as you call it, seems we can be a little more personal, don't you think?"

"I don't know, Cletus - you planning to come in here and give me a hand?" He smiled, hoping it was as cold as he wanted it to be. "That'd make it a lot more personal."

Fowler's eyes narrowed and he sat forward at his neatly ordered desk. "This isn't open for negotiation, Major Larabee," he snapped. "We need that energy. Until Lieutenant Tanner is able or willing to cooperate, you're going to give it to us. We're at war - and you're a soldier. You do what you have to do."

Chris leaned forward, looking directly into the lens of the camera. "I'm a soldier, Fowler - not a slave for your amusement or anyone else's."

Fowler's face tightened, his jaw now the one clenched. "You think I find this amusing? I don't, nor do I get off on it. But we don't have any choice. You and your teammate are the only sources we have for extra power, and I'll do what I have to do to get that. I would hope you would understand the need for this sacrifice. I'm certain Captain Wilmington does."

"That ain't none of your concern," he snarled. "And if I understand what you want, you need Buck as much as you need me."

Fowler grimaced. "What I need is for you to get Tanner engaged in this plan. Do you have any idea what it costs us to keep the two of you safe in here?"

Chris snorted. "That the best you got? In case you haven't heard, Vin tried to cut your expenses, and I'm not certain he's changed his mind on that plan."

He expected the other man to respond as he had so far, so it was disconcerting when he looked away. "I'm not working in a vacuum," Fowler answered, but his tone wasn't as sharp. "I've been briefed extensively on his state of mind, and yours. That's why I'm talking to you and not him. I didn't think you'd appreciate this coming from one of the women, and I know for damned sure he wouldn't."

"I'd have preferred it, actually. Cletus, there ain't many people I'd rather hear from less than you." Fowler, for all his words, had that air of a sick voyeur about him, not with the sex but with him and Vin completely. They were his lab rats and they both knew it.

Fowler leaned back again, exhaling long and slow. "I'm not dancing around this, Larabee. You've got something we need, and we need it badly. I can find ways to apply pressure if need be - I've got orders from the highest levels to get results any way I have to. Obviously," he said dryly, "these orders come from people who have never had the displeasure of trying to work with you. I'm trying the direct approach, Major, but I assure you if that doesn't work, other methods will be applied."

Chris felt a chill at that; there weren't that many things left in his world that these people could take away from him. But there was one, and anyone who knew him knew what that one thing was. One person. One fucking lifeline to the outside universe. "You'd better not be threatening me, Cletus," he warned, trying to keep a grip on his rage.

"I'm not," Fowler answered, his voice flat. "Not that I wouldn't, but I prefer to get results. And we need them. We need to double the output. Either you can do it alone, or you can get your friend on board. Dr. Travis has been authorized to supply you with whatever drugs or . . . accessories you might want. You have access to Captain Wilmington, Tanner can have whatever stimulation he wishes to watch as well, recorded preferably, as there are security issues." He paused as Chris found himself speechless at the ultimatum. "The Albouais are coming back soon for an all-out invasion. We know this. If we have enough power stored up, we can surprise them with full-weapons fire, maybe finish this fight once and for all. We only have one place to get that kind of energy, Larabee, so it really is a matter of life or death."

"Yeah, Cletus, I know what's at stake."

"Do you, really? I can appreciate how your containment chafes, but it's also an insulator of sorts. We've lost thirteen million people, almost five million alone with the attack on the reactor in the fourth quadrant, from nuclear fallout, and most of them civilians. That's two percent of our population in less than a year. We've lost whole cities, infrastructure damage we'll be recovering from for decades. And that's if we recover. If the Albouais don't win. And right now, they're still winning. Do you understand, truly, the magnitude of all that? Understand why I've grown sick of your complaints? Measure that damage and the risk of our extinction against your own discomfort before you start accusing me."

Chris felt his legs jerk under the table, out of Fowler's view; he'd learned in almost a year now, so that even his body had adjusted its reactions, tried to protect itself. "I know all that," he forced out. But he hadn't, not really. Thirteen million people. Whole cities. Even though he got the public newscasts, somehow the fact that there were public newscasts had lulled him into thinking it wasn't as bad as it was. Even though Buck told him, answered any questions he asked, he couldn't say he'd summed it all up, taken in the extent of what was happening. He was insulated in here, unable to fight out there, unable to do anything.

Except what Fowler was pressuring him to do. "We're on the same team, Cletus," he said tiredly. "Try not to keep making me forget that."

"So we can expect your cooperation?"

"Yes, god damn it! But leave Vin out of this. If he can't, he can't, and you've already taken away more than he can stand to have lost."

"Thank you," Fowler said stiffly. "And as much as I may dislike you personally, I do mean that." He cut the connection.

Chris' anger rolled through different stages: fury at his helplessness, at this whole situation, white-hot at Vin for his uselessness, and for leaving him in the position of having to deal with this, flaming at Mary for not finding a cure, but mostly cold iciness at Fowler, a shard of hate freezing into a promise of murder. Reason told him that the man's idea probably was the only viable one under the circumstances, but that did little to assuage the injustice and general immorality of the situation.

The anger was still there, a short while later when Buck checked in, his forced smile fading fast.

"You talked to Vin?" He heard the worry in Buck's voice, and that pissed him off as well.

"Fuck no, I haven't talked to Vin! What am I gonna say - 'oh, Vin, sorry about the suicide, but are you feeling good enough to jerk off yet?' You think I'm crazy?" Buck did, and Chris knew he did, but his lover had enough sense not to voice that. Instead, in true Buck Wilmington style, the man grinned.

"Lightin' up a whole weapons array, huh. Damn, Chris, we'll just wear that thing out!"

It wasn't funny, not the least little bit. But at the look on Buck's face, the twinkle in his deep blue eyes, something in Chris eased just a little.

Trust Buck to understand.

+ 10 months, 21.06 days fusion point.

"Now, as we discussed, slow and easy," Mary's voice called through the speakers. "No need to have a problem we can prevent, right, guys?"

Vin sighed, heard Chris do the same. It wasn't like they hadn't been over this at least ten times this morning. It wasn't like he didn't remember the last time he'd touched Chris - the last time he'd touched anyone. It'd gotten to the point that he was walking around holding one of the rats almost constantly, just to feel something alive. He'd actually cried when they'd told him that Peso, the last one they had used for testing this procedure, wouldn't be coming back. He was down to two now, Eddie and Bob.

For their sakes alone, this had to work.

Vin just wanted this over with. If it worked he and Chris could be in the same room. That in itself wasn't as big a deal to him, even though he did have some hopes for it, as the idea that if it worked, they had managed to change some of the effects of the radiation. If it worked, it was proof that they might yet get out of this prison, back to some sort of real life.

He didn't want to hope, was steadfastly trying not to even think along those lines.

So instead, he concentrated on not letting Mary's nervousness, covered in an array of platitudes and fake cheerfulness, annoy him any more than usual. It could be worse; Dr. Greer could be the one talking. That woman knew more clichés than Ezra.

"Vin?" This time, the voice was Chris', and it got his wandering attention.

"Yeah," he said, standing a little straighter. One arm was itching and he had already touched it before he caught himself. No scratching. The healing was almost done, just pink lines now on his skin, covered in some places with bandages still, the tissue sensitive to touch.

"You with us?"

Vin felt a brief touch of amusement; Chris was as tired of this as he was. "Yeah," he said again.

"You ever gonna be your disagreeable self again?" the other man asked, and even though there was a hint of annoyance in it, there was still the humor.

This time, he did smile. "Yeah," he said.

Chris' snort was mixed with the sound of the door to the other man's quarters sliding open. Vin knew it was more than the physical doors and walls themselves; while they had been housed on the same floor, there had been containment shields dividing them. They had taken those down first - not the ones around the top of the building, but between the halves of this floor. Next had come the blast doors between the metal and concrete walls, then the door out of Vin's half. Now, he was watching the last slender metal door between them slide open.

He didn't move, waiting for the word from Mary, who was with the team monitoring - everything. The air, the temperature, the pressure to the containment field, the pressure on the walls, the balance of light to darkness, and mostly, the scale of radiation.

And them as well, via the various implants and chips that had been stuck into their skin. He tried not to think about those, either, but that was a little harder.

He let his eyes wander around the darkened room before him, not surprised to find it exactly like his own - small, mostly empty, furniture with few cushions, bare floor, metal statuary for what few decorations there were. One lamp, darkened at present, sat near a recliner and the table beside it held a book - just one, they were allowed one at a time for a day or so. Longer, and the pages wore away.

The feeling came along very slowly, a faint tickle along his skin. Before he had a chance to comment, Mary said, "There's still a little difference in your ionizations. You're probably both feeling it now, sort of a static charge. I'm not showing any other physiological reactions - you two feel anything else?"

"No," Chris answered, "just a little bored."

Vin found himself agreeing with a grin.

It was another fifteen minutes or so, during which Vin really was feeling bored, before the door on the far end of the room slid open and he and Chris were actually looking at each other.

They stared as they had the first time they'd met, each feeling relief, reassurance, and the strange underpinning of trust that had been strong between them from the start.

Chris spoke first, a slight curve in his lips.

"You're brighter in person," he said, and Vin noticed the way the green of his eyes cut through the darkness, sharper in person than on the monitor.

"Ain't alone," he answered, finding the words easy. "You ain't hidin' in the dark yourself."

Chris grinned then, and the aura around him seemed to extend just a little farther.

"All right," Mary's voice called, her excitement rising, "each of you take a couple of steps forward, about five."

Vin drew a deep breath, but his annoyance tempered by the way Chris rolled his eyes. Without a word, they each took five steps forward in synch.

"Good," she called, "now stay there."

Chris shook his head, but again his eyes caught Vin's. "Hurry up and wait," he murmured, and Vin realized they were close enough to hear each other easily.

Close enough for Chris to look to one side, catching sight of the bandages and staring before looking back up.

Vin knew those thoughts as well, and he shook his head. "Not your fault," he murmured.

"Yours either," Chris countered, just as softly. "Don't do it again."

Vin stiffened. "Ain't your concern," he said flatly.

Chris straightened a little, but instead of snapping back, as Vin expected, he said, "It's only the two of us, Vin. It is my concern. We got in this mess together - I'd prefer we get out of it that way too."

There wasn't much way to misunderstand what Chris was saying; they'd known each other too long. He frowned, surprised but also a little angry. "Don't reckon Buck'd be too happy to hear that suggestion."

Chris never looked away. "Might be the best thing for him. 'Spect you had thoughts of that nature before you found out about - all of it."

'All of it'. He shook his head at the irony, the ends of his hair dragging over his shoulders. "Yeah, reckon I did. Guess that's why it weren't no real leap. Wasn't really 'bout her, you know."

Chris nodded once. "Reckon I do. Ain't never that simple. Buck . . . "

Vin nodded, knowing.

Before he could say anything, Mary called out, "Okay, things are looking great, no elevations. How are you guys feeling? Any thing going on that feels off or wrong?"

"Little tingly," Chris said, and Vin nodded his agreement. "Not bad though."

"Everything's safe so far," she said, "containment field is at maximum and showing no stress, so why don't you guys step a little closer, and let's make sure we're safe. Two steps should put you close enough."

Vin sighed, Chris laughed, they looked at each other and did exactly what she wanted. Taking two steps forward put them right at each other, and with no hesitation, they reached out their right hands, clasping each other just above the wrist.

Vin had expected the blast again, his memories of the reactor room hazy but stark about one thing: the blast that had happened when he touched Chris. He didn't care now though. If they went out, they went out together.

Mary gasped, someone called for them to stop, but it was all in the background and it was all moot. When they connected, there was a sort of shock, but it was mild and steady, flowing between them like water in a fast-moving stream. It was different, different and warm and sweet as the first time he'd kissed a girl or fired a five-light laser weapon or- or met Chris. He had a couple of unusual sensations, a sense of exhilaration as if nothing could go wrong, and a low thrum in his belly, sort of like arousal but not.

No explosions, no life-threatening alternate ions. They were okay.

He grinned and Chris grinned back. Neither of them rushed to break the contact; it was the first skin-to-skin touch in almost a year for either one of them and that alone felt damned good. He had an impulse to touch Chris' face, or grab his other arm or hand.

Chris must've felt it too because they were connected at a second point, Chris' hand at Vin's neck, his fingers strong and warm as they curled around his flesh.

Vin heard Mary as she did something rare. "Dammit, you two! You scared the life out of us! What are you two thinking?"

"Is it fluctuating?" Chris called, but his eyes never left Vin's, so close that Vin could see the gold flaring deep within.

"Not enough to matter," she answered after a second. "Your physical temperatures are and your blood pressures are higher, more rapid breathing - "

"But there's no danger?" Chris interrupted and Vin almost laughed at the annoyance in his voice. Some things would, thankfully, never change.

"Not that we've seen," she answered and there was a sort of wonder in her voice that did leave Vin to chuckle.

"One step closer," Chris said, and Vin nodded, thinking that he meant one step closer to a cure.

But Chris physically took one step closer, drawing Vin into a full-body hug.

There was a little more of a shock to this contact, even with the layers of cloth between them. But no sparking and no explosion. Just more of the warmth and deep-seated satisfaction that edged so close to the sexual, Vin had to suck in a breath.

Chris' arm was tight and hard against his shoulder blades, his chest wide and solid against Vin's.

Human, so very human.

He'd never had many people close to him, but until he'd been exiled, he'd never realized how much he needed even the small amount. Maybe before Charlotte he could have stood it better, but the year they'd been together had spoiled him, made him aware of how much he loved to touch and be touched.

Now, even being with Chris felt good, made him happy. Too happy; his throat was closing, his eyes filling.

"Careful now," he said, the words choked. "I ain't Buck."

Chris laughed, rich and wonderful. "No, you ain't."

They broke then, Chris drawing away but his hand slapping hard on Vin's back. There was a slight pop, not so much a sound as a feeling just under Vin's skin, and Mary called out, "Spike!"

But the energy rush didn't affect the containment and they both grinned.

+ 12 months, 21.41 days fusion point.

Buck dropped back into the pillows, brushing at the sweat on his forehead. His lower back ached a little and his exhaustion was making it an effort to find release. He'd have to get more of those pills from Mary, the ones that made his body forget it was too tired. It had pained him some to have to resort to those, but difficult times called for extreme measures.

He'd have laughed at the irony of it if he'd had the energy. Instead, he forced himself to look at the monitor, watching the white-out fade to form. Chris was breathing heavy but slower, the aura of light around him dissipating slowly.

This was the part Buck liked best, watching his lover literally bask in the afterglow. He almost laughed as he thought the words, but caught himself. Chris still didn't have much of a sense of humor about it.

But he was beautiful, gold and green and shimmering ivory.

"Stop staring," Chris rasped out, finally coming around.

"Can't help it," he shot back. "You are something."

Chris smiled, pushing himself up to his elbows. He'd trimmed back his hair, too short, Buck thought, so that it didn't hide his eyes. "Well, guess it's good I got something to offer."

Buck ignored the comment, as he ignored so many of them these days. Chris was getting better; having Vin in there seemed to be doing some good. But at another level, it was also spreading Vin's depression - good for Vin, bad for Chris.

Annoying for Buck.

"You talk to Vin about sharing in this fun?" Buck asked.

Chris arched an eyebrow. "You ain't his type."

"Now you know that ain't what I meant," Buck grinned, stretching an arm to the floor to pick up the underclothes he'd just discarded. "Just thought he might be getting more . . . relaxed now that the two of you are getting to be more sociable."

Chris sighed, scratching at his belly. "He's better, but he's still skittish. He don't take well to questions 'bout his private life. Greer pissed him off good yesterday, asking him if he has any fantasies. Apparently, she didn't want to hear that his biggest fantasy was getting out of here. He didn't want to talk to her about sex."

Buck frowned, wiping himself off with his undershorts. "Boy ain't gotta lick of sense - have you looked at Terry? And she ain't involved with no one, 'cept that pretty little girl of hers, Miss Olivia."

He tossed the soiled cloth back onto the floor, resting back in his pillows. It was then that he saw the storm gathering in Chris' eyes.

"Whoa, Chris," he held up one hand, hoping to forestall the temper, "I only know 'cause I been talking to her when I see her. She works late nights here, and sometimes I catch up to her in the elevator, that's all. Ain't nothing for you to go getting yourself in a twist about."

Chris glared, his brows knit close, but his jaw didn't lock. "You got something else you need to be telling me? I don't wanna find out anything like Vin did - "

"There's nothing for you to find out," Buck cut him off. "And if you're to the point of doubting me about this and asking me every damned time we're together -"

"Sorry," Chris held up a hand, looking away. "I've been talking to Vin too much. Seems to help him, but makes me a little . . . "

"Crazy?" Buck offered, but he grinned. "Don't go blaming it all on him, you were crazy long before any of this happened."

Chris had the good grace to snort as he glared this time. "To answer your question," he said pointedly, "Vin's not at the point where we can apply pressure yet, and any sort of question or probably even knowing that Fowler's still giving orders like that would be pressure. I sure as hell don't want to be the one holding his guts together."

Buck nodded, understanding. But something stirred in the back of his mind and he asked, "Fowler don't seem like the type to be patient. Wonder why he ain't said nothing to Vin already."

Chris frowned as well. "You don't think he's letting it go for now? Until Vin's . . . better?"

"Do you?" Buck countered.

Chris didn't answer, but he didn't have to.

"Lots of ways to . . . get a man in the mood," Buck said quietly. "All those drugs Mary's got him on, wouldn't be hard to add something else to the mix."

Chris jerked, his head snapping up to stare at the door. "Fuck," he growled. "Fowler wouldn't dare."

But they both knew he would.

+ 12 months, 24.79 days fusion point.

It was barely three days later, not long enough for Chris to have forgotten, but long enough for him not to be thinking about it. It was pretty clear in hindsight - if Fowler could mess with one of them why not go for both?

And in hindsight, he knew there was not one damned thing he could have done to stop it; the drug could have been coming in through the air vents, or the water, or the food - or, as Fowler himself persisted in claiming, there was no drug at all, it was something that resonated between the two of them because of the radiation.

And perhaps it was. Fowler wasn't the kind of man to lie about something like that, especially when he was this vested in it.

It was innocent enough; they had moved their work-out equipment into the central room of their now-shared quarters, Fowler and his team pleased at the energy they were saving by being able to decrease the containment field around the two men. Vin was on the treadmill, his eyes closed, his headphones on, his body covered in the sparkling sweat that Chris didn't see on himself but did see on the other man. Even where it streaked his t-shirt and running shorts, it left a glimmer on the fabric, a shine that wasn't just from the dampness.

He'd watched Vin work out before; they often had their own little competitions, ways of pushing each other just that little bit more. But today - now, it was different. He found himself looking at the curve of Vin's ass, not the hardness of the muscle, but the actual curve itself. It was the way he used to look at Sarah's breast, the gentle swell that flowed so perfectly into a roundness that fit snugly into the flex of his palm and spread of his fingers, the way he looked at that curve of Buck's shoulders.

His hand seemed to itch from wanting to touch it.

Then his whole body seemed to itch, and all he could think about was the way Vin had felt pressed up against him in that hug a few weeks back, the weight of him, lean and flat and solid. Like Buck, but smaller. More compact.

Thinking of Buck should have curbed some of this odd preoccupation, but instead, it seemed to feed it. Their time together yesterday had been short; the team had been running a late op, and Buck hadn't been able to talk before it. Afterward, he had been tired, and hurt, even though he'd tried to brush it off, Chris had seen the pain in the tight lines of his body, the way he held one arm close to his side. Knowing his lover, the ship had probably taken a few bad turns and he hadn't been belted in. He'd busted some ribs, maybe cracked his shoulder.

Chris hadn't kept him long, worried and frustrated at his inability to do anything to help his team or his lover. There was no use putting Buck through his anger.

But he'd still been upset this morning, thinking that doing something physical would help take away some of the stress. It was definitely working to distract him, but not in the way that he'd intended.

That thought, though, was far away, distant as the faint music he heard from Vin's earphones. His attention was on one strand of hair that had pulled loose of the tie holding back the rest of it. It hung along Vin's face, parallel to his long throat, the end curling back to catch at the collar of his loose shirt. The color was darker there, the tip of the strand wet with sweat, and moving rhythmically as Vin ran.

Curves, of ass and hair and . . .

He wasn't aware of moving, but he found himself standing in front of the treadmill, watching the way the curl of hair bounced, the way the triangle of sweat spread across Vin's chest until it connected the tiny points of his nipples. Small, he remembered, little brown buttons that hardened at the slightest stir of air.

Something changed, Vin slowed, and Chris looked up into confused blue eyes that burned.

"Something wrong?" Vin asked, but like the music, like the thought of Buck, the words were far away.

He stared hard into the blue fire, willing Vin to understand something he didn't understand himself. At the same time, he lifted one hand, his fingers going unerringly for the closest point of the wet triangle on Vin's shirt.

"What are you doing?" Vin's voice was wary, hesitant, and he slowed even more, the treadmill compensating. "Are you - "

The flesh was pebbled under the cloth, firm and pointed and aroused. Chris held his gaze, watching as the blue gave way to dilated pupils, black and flaring gold. As thin lips parted, white teeth flashing in the dimness.

"Chris," Vin snarled, backing away, but not fast enough.

Chris held fast to the nipple, catching the opposite shoulder as well. At the time, there seemed to be little resistance, but later he found bruises and scratches where Vin had tried to push him off.

Tried, until his own arousal caught up.

Afterwards, the only thing Chris had to cling to was that there was no kissing. It wasn't romantic - there was no seduction, no gentleness, no affection, not even the close friendship that had characterized his relationship with Vin. It was fast and violent, animals in heat. He had them up against the wall, one hand tangled in Vin's hair while the other shoved the tight shorts down and out of the way. At the first touch, Vin was just beginning to arouse, his penis not flaccid but nowhere close to erect.

That changed quickly, Chris' fingers wrapping around it and pulling even as he ground against Vin's sharp hip. His mouth was at Vin's throat, his tongue tasting salt and sweat and something else that he didn't know, his teeth pressing into taut flesh and stretched tendons.

The column in his hand was slender and hot, not as long as he was used to but long enough to pump. Wetness oozed and smeared under his palm, and he knew it would glitter in the darkness like his own.

But he was more aware of the hands plunging into his own pants, kneading at his ass, pulling him close enough to trap his own swollen cock against bare skin.

It didn't take much from there, heat and friction and a body that was moving with him, gasping with him, just - there with him.

There with him, in his arms, under his hands, around his cock - physically present.

He came hard, maybe too hard; for the first time, he felt the energy rippling through him and out of him, fuzzily worried that there was no way to contain it.

But like so much else this day, that was a very minor concern; he was coasting through the aftermath, riding a sort of shock wave of satiation that left little room for any coherent thought. Vin came, stuttering, energy pulsing around Chris in tempo to the spurts jetting over his forearm and knuckles.

The air around them crackled, the walls seemed to shake, and he wrapped himself around the other man, pulling him close and losing himself in the need of another body as close and as responsive as his own.

He could have stayed that way forever, certainly longer, but the euphoria dissipated quicker for Vin, who pushed against him, weakly at first, then with a force that knocked him back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the other man snarled, but even as he did, there was a flicker in the electricity, lights, the few that were on dimming, computers and other equipment beeping as the currents feeding them were disrupted. There was another vibration, this time through the floor as well as the walls.

"Chris! Vin!" Mary's voice called through the speakers, and with no conscious thought, Chris pulled himself together, straightening his clothes and wiping his hand on his shirt.

"Yeah," he answered, noticing that Vin was facing the wall, also pulling himself back together.

"What the hell happened?" she demanded. "The energy spike, it's breaking the containment!"

"Good job, Larabee," Fowler's voice cut in, and Chris felt himself stiffen. "Don't know how you boys did it, but you met the quota for this week already. You keep that up and we won't need to rebuild those power plants in the other quadrants."

He was aware of Vin turning, the blue eyes angry and horrified at the same time, but his own temper flared first. "Fuck you, Fowler," he shouted. "That was a one-time thing - it won't happen again!"

"Chris! You and Vin need to separate!" Mary was trying to yell over him. "The energy - "

"It's contained," Fowler's voice cut through every thing else even though he wasn't loud. "And for the record, Larabee - you just set a new standard to meet."

Before Chris could even come up with an answer, the man's soft chuckle terminated in the distinctive 'pop' of the channel closing.

"Fuck you!" he yelled anyway, seething. "God damn you, Fowler!"

"Calm down, Chris," Mary said, her voice strained. "You're breathing too hard."

"Calm down!" he yelled, but his head was pounding. Something gave then, his body suddenly weak, and he felt himself falling.

He hit the wall, heard the dull thud before the impact registered, wondered if he could keep from landing face first, then strong hands caught at his arms and he was eased down. His legs stretched out in front of him, the floor cool under his skin, and he found himself looking into Vin's face before everything faded into nothingness.

Continue

Feedback

---