| Stef's Stuf |
| Too Many Lives: Chapter 2 |
| Because his nausea had calmed down, he was familiar with the symptoms of concussion, and he knew what to do to manage the way he was feeling, the doctor agreed to release him late in the morning. He spent most of the day drowsing, taking the pain killers for the headache and keeping careful track of his symptoms. Nothing showed up in the pupils of his eyes, however; his nausea continued to diminish, and while the headache was still a nine on a scale of ten, it was bearable. At least he had permission from himself to lie still and do nothing for once. He vaguely considered calling his daughter, knowing that she would have a fit when she found out he'd been hurt; but he tried not encourage her to mother him too much: she didn't need to feel like she should do that and he didn't need the aggravation. Sometime in the early evening, just as he was beginning to wonder about some dinner and trying to decide whether there was anything as simple as soup in his cupboard, the doorbell rang. Wincing and moving more slowly than he would have liked to, he got up from the recliner that he'd had stretched out full-length and answered the door. There on his doorstep stood Lennie Briscoe. Jack was floored. He gaped at him, knowing he looked like a fool, but he couldn't do anything else. It was his hallucination come true - and yet, it wasn't. Seeing his shocked expression, Lennie's face mirrored his concern. "Jack," he said worriedly, "are you OK?" "Uh...no, I am not," he finally got out. "Are you feeling worse? Do I need to take you back to the hospital?" Lennie asked seriously. Getting himself under a little better control and consciously shoving the memory of the feel of his body down into his subconscious, Jack responded, "Not unless you plan to knock me out before you do it." "Ah... well. No, I hadn't planned to do that," Lennie muttered, trying to keep his smile from growing too smug, since he was not sure whether Jack intended to be funny or not. Jack considered him. How the heck was he going to get rid of him before he did something totally embarrassing or unmentionably stupid? "What do you have, Lennie?" he finally asked, looking down at the bag in his left hand. "Oh! Well.... We thought that maybe you were ready to eat something about now. I mean, the time I was concussed, my stomach was really upset for about twenty-four hours, but we thought...." "'We' being?" "Well," and he smiled again, "the usual suspects, I guess. Abbie and your secretary and...." "You?" "Yeah, of course." Lennie's warm smile was killing him, but he had to behave as normally as possible. "And it's...?" he prompted. "Hot soup and fresh bread and some fruit. Stuff that isn't likely to bother your stomach." Jack nodded. Then he turned and waved at the telephone table near the door. "That's a telephone, Lennie. You know, the thing you pick up and dial and they bring the food to your door?" "Yes, Jack," Lennie answered, showing no intention to be bothered by his attitude. "And that's what I did. Only you didn't have to order it." He smiled again and handed him the bag. "I hope it tastes good, and if you promise to behave and give it a try, I'll let you alone instead of forcing my way in and arm-wresting you until you're well fed and safely tucked to bed." "Abbie made you promise to do that, right?" "You betcha... She's going to kill me if I don't see to it. And she's going to kill you because you didn't call her to bring you home." "Nonsense. She had two meetings this morning." Jack retorted, acting like the tough 'boss' he was supposed to be. Then, like an afterthought he added meekly "Is she really mad?" "I don't think so. You scared the hell out of her yesterday, and she's still a bit shaken. Call her and tell her you're OK." Jack nodded. "And call me. For anything. I know what it's like dealing with a concussion." "Ok, Lennie. I'll call if there are problems." "You promise?" "Yeah. I do. And thank you" "Good. I leave you to your supper. Try to catch some sleep, Ok? See you tomorrow," and he walked down the steps. Jack stood in the doorway until Lennie had left, then closed the door and headed to the kitchen. Warming up the soup would be easy, and the odor of freshly baked bread was actually making his mouth water. If only he could ignore the tumult in his mind, he'd be in great shape! He started washing his hands absent-mindedly, wondering how much of what was going on inside of his head was showing on the outside, and suddenly, he was someplace else... ***************** The two-story, reinforced concrete-and-glass house was shaped like a semicircle and rested upon a cleared lesser peak of the mountain. A redwood deck swept around the entire front curve of the house and extended out to the edge of a sheer cliff of solid rock. Jack placed a card key into a slot at the entrance, and the gate creaked open. He drove up the driveway and parked behind the house adjacent to a four-car garage. "Good God!" Lennie stepped out of the car and marveled at the sight. "Welcome to Cliff House." Jack grinned enjoying the other man's astonishment. "Who does this palace belong to?" asked Lennie, entranced. "The wife of a big Hollywood producer who was murdered about two years ago." Jack led the way down to a side entrance. "Everybody thought she did it, and my boss tried to put the squeeze on us--probably because the D.A. was so anxious to pin in on someone easy. The victim's business partner did a frame job on the poor woman that you wouldn't believe, but I didn't buy it. Eventually, I stumbled over the evidence for the D.A. to go after the business partner. I ended up having an affair with her, but she wanted to 'keep' me." He smiled warmly. "Now, she's just a great friend who'll do anything for me." Jack fetched Lennie' s bag from the trunk and led him down to the side entrance. Using the same card key, he gained entrance to the kitchen. Jack led Lennie into the semicircular living room, which rose through the second level. Several huge glass panels comprised a curved wall and offered a view of Los Angeles Lennie had only seen in movies. To the left of the living room there was a formal dining area, which looked out over the pool in back. Jack pointed toward a bedroom at the far end, adjacent to the front deck. "That's your bedroom. Knowing Linda, it's probably stocked with robes and towels and all kinds of fancy stuff. It has its own bathroom." He pointed at another room next to the bedroom. "That's the entertainment room, which is loaded with state-of-the-art sound and video equipment. It has every video, CD and cassette tape ever made, I swear." Lennie looked up the stairway and saw a bedroom directly over the one on the first level. "Upstairs is the master bedroom and another guest bedroom." Jack pointed matter of factly. "Also has a study and a gym." Lennie looked at the redwood deck and walked toward the sliding glass door. "I'll show you that later. Linda's got an elaborate security system, so we have to disarm it before we can go out on the deck or to the pool. Why don't you clean up while I take care of a little business, okay?" Jack walked up the stairs and made a telephone call to his drinking buddy and Internal Affairs source, Lieutenant Bernard Lipranzer. He dialed Lipranzer's pager and gave Linda's number for the callback, flagging the message 'urgent'. He waited for the call from some phone booth; it came in less than three minutes. "Hey, you ugly Son of a bitch!" greeted Lipranzer. "Wanna meet me tonight at the Palace? Booze on me tonight." "Naw, can't make it, Lip," said Jack, wishing he could. He needed a drunken night out on the town with someone crazy like Lip. "I got troubles, man... big troubles." "Uh oh. How big?" "Think about Montana and double it..." "That bad?" "Yeah! I've got a reason to think that the Horny Satyr's killer is a cop, and I think our friend Borlan is involved." "You kidding?" Lipranzer laughed. "Wish I was. I need to set surveillance on an apartment south of downtown and a van with a video camera." "Oh, shit." "Come on, Lip," said Jack, sensing a turn down. "Borlan's flying higher than a kite now. He's vulnerable to making a mistake. It could be all you guys need to nail him." "Things aren't the same now, Jack. Borlan's got everyone spooked. They did a witch hunt and got rid of a lot of guys, Jack. Most everyone who'd worked on him. I still don't know how they missed me, but I'm not gonna push my luck by going out on a limb for you." "Who'll know?" Jack was feeling desperate. "Just you and me . . . and the van man won't have to know anything. All he has to do is work the video camera and give you the footage. Doesn't some rookie owe you a favor? I'll go with you to the D.A. Once it's in their hands, you can go back to being invisible." "Jack, my source at the FBI confirms that Borlan's tied to the Mafia like we thought. He has lots of friends in high places. They think he's stashing away explosives, but they don't know where. The guy points a finger at you, you're history, Jack. He's one bad motherfucker." "Explosives? What the hell for?" "That's all my FBI source will tell me, other than it's big and they're getting nowhere." "The more reason to do this then, Lip. He's got to be stopped, and I have his soft underbelly in my hands right now. How about it?" Lipranzer was silent. "Come on, man. Borlan will end up tearing the L.A.P.D. to pieces. Someone has to stop him, for God's sake." "Okay... but you owe me, man. You owe me one hell of a big one." "You got it, Lip. Thanks." Jack hung up and quickly dialed the number of the station. It was vital they kept thinking he still was on a wild goose chase, and not with both hands on the only witness that Borlan's lackeys hadn't neutralized, yet. He talked briefly with the "wonder boy" of the week, collected the news, reported his lack of progress in his investigation and added the right amount of rubbish and smoke to screen his movements. He hung up sure nobody would care to give a damn about what he was really doing. That was the perk of being the loose cannon of the precinct: nobody took him seriously nowadays and with the gambit he was playing, that suited him just fine. While Jack was on the telephone, Lennie had shaved, showered and slipped into a white bathrobe. As he poured himself a club soda at the bar, Jack came down the stairs, shaking his head forlornly. "What's wrong?" asked Lennie, mixing another drink. Jack absently took it. "The hair and blood samples are so clean they stink. Guess somebody is making a hell of a job tampering with the evidence." Jack went into the living room and sat on an ottoman. Lennie followed. "We're alone. Our only chance is to trap him now. Or should I say them?" He looked up at Lennie thoughtfully. "Don't let anyone in this house, you understand?" Lennie nodded. "I can't see how anyone would know you're here, but, just in case, all you have to do is hide and wait for help to arrive. Like I said, this place is hooked up to a fool-proof security system, so don't try to go outside, not even on to the deck. You'll set it off and have a hell of a time explaining to the local police why you're here." He gulped down the drink and rushed toward the kitchen. "I'll be back in about two or three hours." "Where are you going?" Lennie felt panicky. "To set up a trap." Jack waved and strode toward the kitchen exit. "Just be calm and enjoy yourself. You'll be all right." He pressed an interrupt button to allow him to get outside without setting off the alarm. As Lennie watched, Jack rushed to the rented car and sped down the road, feeling a strange tugging sensation in his stomach. He was leaving the only witness still alive all alone and he wasn't liking it a bit. A voice in his mind told him that was just part of the problem, but he decided to ignore it for the time being. ************* By the time Jack had returned it was almost midnight. He was concerned that Lennie might have panicked and made a call... or worse. If he had, all the efforts made to keep him alive were going to go down the drain, along with Jack's career and, probably, life. He found Lennie asleep on a couch in the darkened living room. "Lennie?" Lennie opened his eyes and jumped up to a sitting position. "Huh?" He looked around wildly. "Easy," soothed Jack. "It's only me." He turned on a lamp nearby. "Oh, fuck, I was dreaming about being chased by that creep." He rubbed his eyes, looking at Jack. "Did you eat?" "Yeah, I had a sandwich a couple of hours ago." He looked at his watch. "Lord, how long were you gone?" "About four hours," Jack said, pouring himself a brandy at the bar. "You feel like drinking with me?" Lennie yawned. "Nope. Still trying to stay dry." " A.A.?" " Yeah. I'm Lennie Briscoe and I'm an alcoholic..." Jack smiled, and came to sit in an overstuffed chair across from the older man. It was obvious that he was still wired and needed to mellow. "So?" Lennie inquired "So what?" "How did it go?" Jack shrugged. "We have it in the bag," he lied. Nothing had changed in those few hours. The Horny Satyr's killer was still a cop and was still a valuable pawn in Borlan's plans, whatever they were. So far to keep his cover, the organization had caused two more deaths and done some serious tampering with the evidence, so the only ways to get him were either to make him a dangerous nuisance for Borlan , or to break the net around him. Chances were better he would win the next lottery, but his witness didn't need to know that, so Jack didn't provide any details, and Lennie realized that he should leave the subject alone. "After this brandy, I'm going to have a nice hot shower and go to bed." Jack glanced at Lennie, who smiled coyly. "In separate bedrooms," he added. Lennie snapped his fingers in an "Oh damn" gesture, then laughed. Jack was beginning to feel less self-conscious about Lennie's attraction, and actually managed a smile. He studied the other man. "I can't get over how relaxed you are all of a sudden. Hell, I thought you were going to have a nervous breakdown just a few minutes ago." "I feel at home here. It's nice... and you're here now." OK, that was a bit too much. Jack quickly changed the subject. "Do you have a family?" "Yeah. Two ex wives - who I thank everyday in my prayers for having pushed me in the arms of my first man - one daughter and one son who never cared too much about me even when I was straight." "Do they know?" asked Jack, becoming relaxed himself. "Yeah. You can bet they know. That's why my grandson thinks his grandpa's dead" "Ouch... Nice family." "No shit. You?" "Widower. No kids." Lennie grimaced as he was reminded of Jack's heterosexuality. "She died in a car accident 9 years ago. Had she not died, we'd probably still be married to each other... and miserable. She loved me but hated my job viscerally. Knowing what I know now, she was right and I was stupid beyond redemption." "No one in your life, now?" "No. Linda was the last one. 47 days from beginning to end. The longest relationship I had since my wife died. I wish it had worked better..." "Do you still love her?" "NO. And that's the point. I wish it had worked but I know I didn't and don't love her enough to try." "Then why wishing?" "Because of the loneliness." Jack had never before admitted his loneliness to anyone, and the statement felt strange coming from his mouth. "Loneliness at our age can kill faster than a heart attack. I live alone, eat microwaveable junk and hate every minute of it. I'm a workaholic, probably an alcoholic, too. I wake up alone in the morning and go to bed alone in the evening. And I'm so dog tired of it that sometimes I ask myself why I haven't eaten my gun yet." His own frankness amazed him. Why on earth was he telling this to someone he just met. "What about you?" he asked, needing to move the focus of the conversations as far away from himself as humanly possible. " More or less the same. After I came out every night was a feast. I was so eager I tried everything, twice. A year later I was alcoholic, on the verge of drug addiction and tired beyond belief of one night stands. So I tried a real, healthy relationship. Then I tried again, and again, and again. One looser after another. The last one loved two things in life: cocaine and to beat me senseless. The first two times I forgave him. The third I sent him to the hospital with nose, right cheek-bone and a couple of ribs broken. Never heard from him since." Jack became enchanted with Lennie's sincerity. It was refreshing. "After that fiasco I pretty much decided the party was over and resigned myself to living alone. Celibacy sounded like a good solution at the time but it didn't work in the long run. There's a limit on the number of addictions you can try to master at the same time and I hit it hard. I felt so sex starved that I was crawling up the walls, so I started cruising again. And on my first night out I stumbled into a remake of the St. Valentine's massacre." "That was your first night out?" "Yeah. Talk about bad timing." "I thought you were a regular client." "Of that hole? Do I look like the regular client of a place named the Horny Satyr?" "How the hell would I know? For all I know about you, you could be into that kind of kink." Lennie laughed, a deep warm laugh that Jack found catchy "Orgies? Sorry to disappoint you, detective, but what you have here is just an old man into plain vanilla who was looking for a good lay. And believe me, at my age it's not that easy." "That's hard to believe. You're a good-looking man, Lennie. You shouldn't have any trouble finding what you want." Lennie chuckled bitterly. "If only I could be turned on easily. Unluckily I'm stuck with my type, which usually turns out to be married... or drunk or a crazy son of bitch with a penchant for using his fists as a foreplay. The ones who aren't fucked-up usually prefer women... or any other guy besides me." "What's your type?" Lennie smiled wistfully. "Look in the mirror." For the first time, Jack allowed himself to feel flattered and then, to his own surprise, he blushed. "Why?" he asked. "Why what?" "Why on earth somebody would want a scarecrow like me as 'his type'?" Lennie laughed "A scarecrow? Man, you've got a lot of work to do on your self-esteem. If only you knew just how many men would jump at a chance to have a silver fox like you..." "Silver fox?" Lennie was amused by the exaggerated frown on Jack's face. "Mature, grayish hair, in good shape, alpha-male and no-nonsense attitude, handsome in a rough and seasoned kind of way. And with that charming hawkish profile of yours... It makes me want to snuggle up next to you like a puppy." His embarrassment finally overwhelmed his curiosity. Time to get out of here before this went any further. "I think we'd better turn in. Busy day tomorrow. I'm going to take a shower." "I'll just sit here and watch the lights... and try to figure out what to do with my life if you manage to keep me alive until this mess is over." "Hey... You're still alive so far..." " Yeah. Did I thank you for that?" " Dunno. Maybe. Maybe not. I usually don't take notice of that kind of details while I'm trying to keep my witnesses alive." Jack got up and walked upstairs to the master bedroom. Lennie waited till he reached the top of the stairs. "Jack." He called. "What?" "Thank you." "You're welcome." Jack undressed and headed toward the bathroom. He worked a bit on the taps of the shower and stepped in, enjoying the feel of the warm, cascading water over his skin. Lost in his own thoughts he didn't notice the shadow approaching the shower's stall until he turned to reach the soap and spotted Lennie's silhouette behind the glass door. Jack was astonished, but absently continued lathering his thick chest hair with soap, while Lennie shed his robe, letting it drop to the floor, and opened the glass door. "No, Lennie." He admonished, sternly. Lennie's eyes lovingly poured over the lean, sinewy, hairy body as water shot past him onto the floor. He extended a shaky hand to touch Jack's chest. "Don't make me hurt you, Lennie. Back off," warned Jack. "I can't help it, Jack," Lennie said softly, his voice quavering as his body shuddered. "Get the hell out!" yelled Jack, pushing Lennie back and shutting the door. In an exceptional reaction of anger and passion, Lennie pulled the door back open, ripping the inside handle out of Jack's hands. As Jack massaged his smarting hand, he stood, unable-perhaps unwilling-to move, staring into Lennie's alien-looking eyes. "What in the hell are you doing?" asked Jack breathlessly. "I've seen too many corpses these last days. I keep seeing them every time I close my eyes. I... I just want to feel alive again ..." said Lennie, his voice fragile with passion and fear. " And not alone. Please, Jack!" The need in his voice cut through Jack's defenses. 'Not alone' was something he understood. All the little reactions of this day started to add up; he started to think that maybe... He didn't even realize it when he tentatively nodded, inviting Lennie in. Lennie stepped under the shower spray and sucked steamy air into his lungs. As the hot spray hit his body, his hand touched Jack's chest, causing the man to quake and drop the bar of soap. Lennie gently wrapped his arms around Jack, pulling him close, and allowed his body to glide down Jack's torso until the rigid, pulsing cock came into view. Jack cried out, staring at his unaided erection in utter amazement. Lennie took Jack's cock into his mouth. At the touch of his lips it jumped and Jack moaned. Lennie began working his tongue tentatively and Jack's moaning increased. He placed his hands on both sides of Lennie's head and, entranced, started to set the rhythm. A sense of elation pervaded Lennie's body, from the tip of his toes to the roots of his hair, feeling Jack's willing surrender to his ministrations. He looked up once and liked what he saw. Jack's masculine face was expressing ecstasy, eyes unfocused, clenched teeth, as he let out soft moans and grunts. Jack stared in wonder as his cock slipped smoothly in and out of Lennie's mouth. He felt his toes curl and sensed a wonderfully warm churning in his groin. As the point of ecstasy reached him, he felt weightless and seemed to float. He grunted his message to Lennie, who wedged the bloated penis deep within his throat. His throbs began at the base of his cock and rippled up to his cock head, engaging Lennie's tongue, which fluttered the base, releasing throb after throb, keeping the movement alive. His body shook violently as he slowly glided down the slick tiles, as if his legs were unable to support his weight. As the water sprayed over them, Jack sat on the shower floor with glazed, unbelieving eyes. Lennie leaned back against the other wall and began touching himself, coming after only a few strokes. He watched as his own semen swirled around and around in the drain, finally slipping through the holes. Coming back to his senses, Lennie watched Jack closely, ready to bolt if the detective had some sort of belated reaction to the abuse and decided rightly to beat him into a bloody pulp. Instead Jack reached out a hand, grabbed Lennie' s arm and forced him to sit with him on the floor. "What have you done to me?" he asked, panting and Lennie let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. There was no anger in Jack's voice, just wonder. He looked flushed and dazed, but his eyes were glowing. "Last time I checked, it was called a Blow Job." Lennie answered, finally allowing himself to relax. "Naw... I had some blow jobs in my life but they weren't like this". Jack felt elated. "How was this?" "Mind blowing. Never felt so good in ages..." Minutes later they helped each other to their feet and stepped out of the shower. "I'm afraid you just opened Pandora's box" Jack stated, half laughing, pointing at his cock, already at half mast and growing again quickly. He wondered if it was possible to get drunk on sex and decided that in the name of science he had to investigate the matter some more. **** The smell of burnt soup caught his nostrils and Jack gave a start as if he'd been hit right between his eyes. The water was still running over his hands and had made a mess of his shirt and trousers. And the soup was wasted. The signs were clear. He had blanked out for some time, but he couldn't tell if it had been seconds or hours. The only thing he could tell for sure was that he felt like he'd lived a whole day of a totally different life. <Not again!> he muttered, his heart accelerating, thousands of thoughts spinning in his brain, < Please, not again...> He began shaking uncontrollably. Restraining the urge to bang his head against the cupboard, he got hold of himself and waited several minutes for the shakes to subside. Once that happened, he walked a bit erratically away from the kitchen, and wound up spread-eagled on the bed. He laid there for a long while, trying desperately not to think about what had happened in his "hallucination". <If that's what it was> But he couldn't help rerunning the memory, and his body kept responding so emphatically. Lennie Briscoe again. For the second time in less than a day he had seen himself having sex with Lennie Briscoe, and he remembered every single detail of it to the point he felt like he was affected by some sort of post coital lassitude. And that, as surprising as it was, was nothing compared to the fact that he remembered all the details of the hallucination like they were part of his life. He remembered how he had felt when his wife had died, where he lived in L.A.; where he used to go running every morning and where was the gym, and the laundry. He remembered the phone number of Bern Lipranzer, and the code to enter into Linda's house. He knew how he managed to find Lennie Briscoe after the multiple homicide at the Horny Satyr. In a corner of his mind there was even the certainty that something had already changed between him and Lennie. He knew he was already thinking whether he would have mastered the courage necessary to reciprocate, and that the other man was no more just a witness and a key to get rid of Borlan once and for all. He reached for the phone near his bed and dialed a number he was sure he knew by heart. He waited, his hands shaking for the tension. <What if somebody really answers? What if that number is really of someone in the other life?> Of course nobody answered. He sighed. <Pull yourself together, McCoy.> His stomach started to protest the earlier abandonment of dinner, so he dragged himself out of bed and back to the kitchen. The soup was ruined, but the bread and fruit Lennie had brought looked like a decent option. Lennie. He shook his head, trying not to go there. He finished the simple meal and headed back to bed. He fell asleep still wondering why, in all his "hallucinations", he kept falling for Briscoe as if it was the most natural thing in the world and why he didn't feel as shocked as he should have. Continue on to Chapter 3 Send us some feedback Back to the Story Index Disclaimer: These characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC; we're just borrowing them for fun, not profit. |