The Jigsaw

Hello again! :)
It’s been a long time since I’ve updated this story. Forgive me. I’m not going to abandon it, I promise. I just still battle my illness, so sometimes it’s hard to write...
But now – have your new chapter, enjoy it, and review, please :)

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A Miracle

"Hey, where are you going?" Ryan frowned at the sight of Thera and Linda packed and ready to leave the base.

"Mission." Thera wasn't particularly happy about the assignment.

"Why am I out?"

"How should I know? Probably too 'involved'."

"Involved in what?"

"Oh, God, you're so...." Thera didn't finish. "We're going to find out about Sarah," he sighed, seeing that he wouldn't be able to dismiss Ryan easily. And he found it very surprising to see Ryan's face. It was too honest to hide things he didn't want to tell anybody, and Thera was good at reading faces and the thoughts behind them. "Oh, shit. You know something, don't you?"

"Um, like what? I don't know what you're talking about." Ryan tried to remain casual and indifferent. But he was destined to fail, especially in front of a mind reader like Thera.

Thera drew his eyebrows together, his face impatient and really scary. "I ain't a fool. You tell me, or I'll tell Ramson. Huh?"

Ryan made a face like he needed to piss and shifted his weight from one foot to another. He couldn't decide what to do. Finally he gave up. "All right," he sighed, resigned. "She's alive."

"How do you know?"

"She called me."

"What for?"

"She asked me to find out some info about Ramson. She knows something; I don't know what, but it must be a big deal, I guess."

"Fuck, and you didn't tell Ramson that she's alive? That you know where she is?" Thera dropped his backpack onto the floor.

"I don't know where she is. And what was I supposed to do? Go to Ramson and tell him, 'Oh, hi, Sarah wants to know what's in your file'? You're nuts. There is something going on. And the girl is not stupid. So when you find her, try to find out what it is."

"Well, that never hurts." Linda gave Thera a meaningful look. She was always the very incarnation of calm.

He snorted impatiently. "Let's try to find her first. Hey." He turned back to Ryan. "If she contacts you again, tell her to find us. Hotel Montana. We'll talk, I promise."

"'Kay." Ryan squeezed their hands goodbye and Thera and Linda left.

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The morning sun sneaked into the room. Sam opened his eyes. Immediately they met Casey's amber gaze. Casey must have been awake for some time already, watching his sleeping partner on the other bed. Sam felt a bit uncomfortable with that look, as if he was burdened with its heavy weight.

"Mornin'," Casey smiled.

"Yeah," he answered coldly and averted his eyes. Nope, this wasn't a good time to make everything warm, close, and loving. It was never a good time, anyway. A distance must be maintained.

Sam dragged himself from the bed and locked himself in the bathroom. Just in case. He didn't want Casey to intrude.

But Casey didn't mean to intrude. He didn't mean to do anything at all that would make Sam uneasy. And he knew it was all because of the events of the previous night. Sam had opened up a bit again, and Casey felt he had to ease up a little to keep that door ajar.

Before the shower stopped, Casey was off to breakfast in the hotel restaurant. It took fifteen minutes for Sam to join him. They ate in silence, avoiding each other's eyes. Casey finished first, said a casual thanks, and added, "I have some things to take care of, if you don't mind. See you this evening." He smiled, turned away, and left the restaurant. He had no "things to take care of", of course. He just wanted to give Sam room to breathe. To let him think things over, whatever outcome it might bring. So he was just going to take a long walk around, visit some places, and whatever other boring things he could think of.

Sam chewed his bun automatically, his thoughts wandering somewhere very far away from his breakfast. He still remembered the previous night. He remembered what he'd felt upon seeing Casey in the club, seeing him in the shower, having sex with him...and he kind of didn't like it. It was dangerous. Lethal, to be precise. But somehow it was also pleasant to think about it, to recreate it in his mind. It wasn't that frustrating any more, and Sam was really scared. Like, really, really scared. Because he'd figured out that he already had let Casey in, and there was no reasonable way to throw him out. What was done was done. Sure, he'd need some time to adjust, to learn how to live with a "foreign body" in his heart, which had been empty and his very own until now. There was something to what was going on with Casey other than there had been in Sam's strange relationship with Simon. Simon was his brother, after all. And a kind of substitute for God knows what. Now Sam could see the difference. He couldn't define it if he'd been asked to, but he felt it deep in his guts.

After this heavy inner battle Sam opened his cell phone and dialed a number. He was tempted to close it before the person at the other end picked it up, but he resisted.

"Hi, what's up?" Casey's voice sounded cheerful.

"Um, I...." Sam hadn't prepared his speech and now he was angry at himself, stumbling over words and not really knowing what he was going to say. "When are you coming back?"

"Dunno. Do you need something?"

"Not sure. But I might meet you for lunch."

There was a short silence in the receiver. Sam wasn't sure what it meant and was surprised to feel a slight cramping in his belly.

"Sounds nice," the response came. "Actually...." This time it was Casey who hesitated. He wanted to say he was free, but he refrained. It wouldn't bring any good. "Well, yeah. One o'clock?"

Sam would have given his soul to anyone who could tell him what Casey wanted to say, but didn't. "Okay. McDonald's, or something more sophisticated?"

"Trattoria Carlito. Market square."

"Trattoria it is, then. See you there."

"Yeah. See you."

Casey's heart beat so loudly he was sure Sam had heard it over the phone. God, he called me. He called me! It was getting crazy. He was going crazy. And Sam, apparently, too. "He called me!" he said unconsciously to a man passing by, who looked at him in surprise. Casey's heart was singing with joy and he loved the world, he loved people, he loved life. This was what they called happiness. Yes, it could be crushed easily, and Casey knew Sam was brilliant at that. But for now he was very, very happy. At least until one o'clock.

Those four hours he had to wait seemed like forever to Casey. He wanted to know. Now. His happiness turned into waiting. Very nervous waiting for what Sam had to say. He didn't know Sam was sitting on the hotel bed, twisting his fingers, biting his lips, and waiting for the meeting just as nervously. He didn't know what he hoped to achieve by the call and the meeting. This was a foreign land, and he was wandering in the mist. It was one scary thing, that he didn't feel in control of at all. Things had just started to happen, quickly overtaking his ability to adjust. And he'd got swept away....

Casey bit his lower lip as he looked at the restaurant sign. Ten minutes. Ten minutes, and things would become clear. He took a deep breath and entered the trattoria. Most of the tables were taken, but the waiter guided him to a place in a cozy corner. A candle on the table looked romantic, and Casey couldn't decide if he should leave it or not. Finally he bent forward to blow it out when he heard from behind him, "Leave it. I like to play with warm wax."

"Hey," he said timidly, turning. He felt his cheeks redden and he was ashamed of it.

"Hey." Sam's voice and look were inscrutable. As usual.

They took off their outer garments and sat down, the candle between them reflected in their eyes.

"So, how is your day going?" Sam started. It was a harmless question, so Casey relaxed a bit.

"Well, okay, I guess. "

"You had no 'things' to deal with, had you?" Sam looked at Casey intensely. "In the city. Right?"

"Um...what can I say?" Casey blushed once again. He'd been an idiot to underestimate Sam.

"The truth might be the right choice."

Casey thought for a couple of seconds and decided to face the situation. "Okay. I had nothing to do. Four hours of thinking like crazy. So what?"

"Nothing. I thought so. But get this: you don't have to treat me like an egg or something. The last thing I am is fragile."

"I know. But you also have a low boiling point. I'm not sure I want to be your target when you decide to start a war."

"Smart."

"I thought so."

They both smiled. There was no aggression in their behavior.

"Why did you call me?" Casey asked.

"Dunno, really. To expose your lousy maneuver?" Sam smirked.

Casey snorted. "Bullshit. Now I want the truth."

"Don't have it. Sorry."

"Fuck you," Casey said without anger.

"That would be nice." A lewd smile crawled across Sam's lips.

"It was, wasn't it?" His playful attitude infected the other man.

"You liked it?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Sure you did. Everybody does." Sam made an amused face.

Casey sighed. "So I belong to the 'everybody' group. I think I can live with that."

"I didn't say you did." Sam looked at Casey seriously.

"Do I?" Casey's face was just as serious.

A moment of silence reigned and then Sam forced himself to say very quietly, "No."

"That's something. A big something. It might even get my hopes up, so be careful." Casey gave Sam a half-smile.

"Well, I'm trying hard."

"But it doesn't work that well, does it?" Casey asked gently.

Sam tore off some wax from the candle. "No. I guess it doesn't," he answered slowly, the words coming out with effort. "Don't take advantage of it."

"C'mon, you know I will. "

Sam only looked up to meet the other man's eyes. He said nothing. He knew Casey would make a move, and surprisingly—to himself—he was ready for it. He didn't exactly know what it would be like, but he wanted to let it happen anyway.

"Holy shit." Casey narrowed his eyes, half-guessing Sam's inner state. "You're...my God. It's a miracle!" He couldn't express himself properly.

"It is. So shut up now and leave it before I change my mind. And that's a very fast process."

"Tell me 'bout it," Casey snorted and shook his head. Having fiery feelings for Sam didn't mean he'd forgot all the humiliations and blows he'd got from his fucked-up part-time lover. "So, why me? What is so special about me?"

Sam didn't deny the statement that Casey was special. "Well, you've got looks and...some character, I admit."

"In that order?"

Sam smirked. "Absolutely."

"So if I was ugly...?"

"I wouldn't have even looked at you. See? I'm shallow."

Casey frowned. "That's nothing to be proud of."

"Why?" Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not proud of it, but neither am I ashamed. I'm just stating a fact."

"I don't think you work that way. But whatever." Casey waved his hand. "Let's order something."

After a waiter accepted their choices, they had quite a long time to talk before the meals would come. Casey decided not to continue the delicate subject and tried to get some information Ramson insisted on having.

"What are you going to do now, Sam? I mean, in general," he clarified diplomatically.

"I know what you're asking about. I'm free now, ain't I?" Sam snorted. "You know, at some university one of the students decided to free some mice that were kept for experiments. He took them out of the lab in a cage and let them out in a park, near a tree. The next day, when the uni workers went there, all the mice were still sitting in the same place. You understand?"

"You're not like that. You just think you are." Casey felt a stronge urge to deny Sam's vision.

Sam's eyes were fixed somewhere above Casey's head. "I didn't have any backup plans in case of his death." Simon had been meant to be always by his side. Always.

"Why haven't you killed him yet? I mean Ramson. That's what I'd expect."

Sam laughed hoarsely. "Killing out of emotion brings nothing but frustration. You have to kill deliberately, your mind cool and clear. It has to be a conscious decision, not a rush of feelings. So I'll wait here until my mind is at peace. Then I'll kill him."

This plan surprised Casey. Not the plan itself, cruel and ethically unacceptable as it was, but...the fact that he didn't mind. And that was frightening. What had happened to him? How much had he changed? He didn't feel like advising Sam against doing what he wanted to do. He wasn't sorry for Ramson. At all.

"He might escape," he said quietly.

"No way." Sam shook his head. "He's a pro. He made me what I am. He knows he can't escape, and he's waiting for me. Every morning he wakes up sure that I'm coming, and every night he goes to sleep with the feeling that he's stolen another pathetic day of his life from fate. Every day he thinks he's prepared for me to come, but when I finally do, he won't be the least bit ready."

For the sake of his usual habit, Casey tried to remain noncommittal. Seemingly. "Can't you..." he started, but without conviction. And judging by Sam's warning look, even suggesting giving up this plan was highly improper. So Casey didn't suggest anything.

"No." Sam gritted his teeth. "Everything we do comes back to us. It'll come back to Ramson soon, and someday...it'll come to me." He shrugged with cruel indifference. "Well, that's life."

"It's a bit hypocritical of you to call yourself the sword of justice, ain't it?" Casey raised his brow.

"Justice? I don't know the bloody thing! This is just my personal need to get square." Sam smiled sadly. "Do you despise me?"

"No. If I did, it was a long time ago. I'm as fucked-up as you are. My conscience is screwed. My rules are broken. I don't care any more. You're...." He wanted to say that Sam was all he cared about at the moment, but he held back. "Never mind. So—when?"

"Dunno. I'll wait. And you...you're not helping, you know?" Sam thought of all the emotional storms Casey had managed to unleash in his mind and heart.

Casey drew down his brows, not understanding Sam's meaning. "I'm not trying to help. It's your business."

"Well, it is, I guess." Sam sounded a bit absent.

"You know, sometimes I wonder why life always gives you what you don't really want. You always have to struggle, to fight for something, and you can never settle for what you have."

"That's why people love movies." Sam grinned. "Poor ones. And happy-ending books."

"Why?"

"You can divide movies and books into good ones and B-class ones."

"Sure I can. What about it?"

"Well, the good ones reflect reality. They are true to all obstacles you find in life, to desires that are impossible to fulfill whatever you do. And the other ones...they are about the world we dream of." Sam smiled gently. "About an easy, simple life that satisfies all your needs, that gives you all you want till the end. We believe it could be like that. Well, I don't. But people tend to believe. They like to think, for two hours at least, that the story could be about them, that all miracles are possible."

Casey though about Sam's words for a moment. "There's something to that," he said finally. "I'd like my life to be simple."

"Me, too. But it isn't. And it can't be. So I don't believe in fairy tales. And I don't think much about it."

"Me neither."

"Good. That spares you disappointments."

"Maybe. But it strips me of dreams."

"Do you really want to live your life thinking of things you can't have?"

"I did. And a miracle is going to happen, I think. " Casey smiled warmly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, fuck. Don't be so lovey-dovey. I hate it."

"I know. You hate a lot of things. It must be frustrating, huh?" the blond man teased.

"What's frustrating is facing the things I hate!"

"Which makes it almost always, right?" Casey laughed.

"Fuck you, jerk!" Sam half-smiled. "Where is our damned food?"

"Up to half an hour, sweetheart," Casey jibed, making a funny face.

"Call me sweetheart once more and I swear I'll kick your ass hard enough to be painful!"

"I bet you will." Casey was still laughing, and as he did, he noticed an absolutely unprecedented phenomenon.

Sam blushed!