“So you got me,” Mark said.

“I got you,” Damien confirmed.

They looked at one another, hard blue gazes meeting across the concrete walled room. This was the culmination of months of plotting and planning, Mark knew that. The whole time he’d been with Angelo, this man must have been hunting him down. Now he was caught. No way out. No time off for good behavior.

Eight years earlier…

“What are you doing, private?”

“Sir, cleaning my boots as ordered, sir!”

Twenty-two year old Mark’s military muscular body was naked from the waist up. He’d kept his shirt off on purpose as he sat on his bed and worked a polish rag over his boots, the tops of his shoulders and the back of his neck were bright red from sunburn and it felt butter not to have fabric rubbing against those patches. There was also the fact that there was someone he wanted to impress - and that someone had just come striding in, cocky as hell, his hair damp and curling from a recent shower.

Mark looked up from his boots and smiled into those stunning blue green eyes as he answered the man he wanted most in the world - Sergeant Colt. The young sergeant made Mark’s heart hammer every time he laid eyes on him. He wasn’t just hot. There were hot guys all over the military. He had a certain something about him, a streak of dominance Mark responded to instinctively, even though he didn’t really understand it now

In a dustbowl like Afghanistan, showers were a luxury, and between Mark and Damien, something of a signal too.

“I’ll see you in the assigned area, private.”

“Sir,” Mark grinned.

“It’s time you attended my privates,” Damien grinned, folding his arms and glancing down toward his crotch.

Damien pushed Mark’s head down and Mark took that thick uncut cock into his mouth. Fuck, this was hot. Because they’d both be in trouble if they were caught. Don’t ask, don’t tell was very much in effect, and homosexual conduct was grounds for dishonorable discharge. Neither of them wanted that, but they wanted this more.

Even if they couldn’t really talk outside their rushed rendezvous, even if they barely knew one another besides the lust that drove them to these temporarily quiet places, this meant something. For Mark, it was all that got him through the long, hot, sandy days.

WWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOO….

The sound of an incoming missile was familiar. The rebels shot missiles at their base all day long. Usually they fell well short. This one didn’t. This one breached the perimeter and landed close enough for the blast to catch Damien and Mark in the outer wave of its shock. Being on his knees already saved Mark from the brunt of the shock and the debris, shattered glass from a nearby window skimming through the air like a thousand tiny sharp knives. Damien took the brunt of the hit and was thrown several feet like a rag doll, coming to a halt against the tire of an LAV.

Mark’s ears rang as he scrambled up and ran to Damien. His lover was unconscious and bleeding from a gut wound. Blood was seeping through the shredded remains of his uniform as Mark tried to both put pressure on the wound and pull Damien’s fatigues back up enough that it wouldn’t look suspicious.

He’d remember that moment for the rest of his life, how he tried to save Damien from the shame of being gay before he even tried to save his life.

The base had been mobilized immediately, and fortunately casualties were very limited. The missile had landed in an unpopulated area and the only people really effected were Mark and Damien.

As soldiers swarmed them like ants, Mark was pulled away from Damien.

“No! Let me stay with him!”

“He’s been med-evac’d” someone said. “Settle down, you’re wounded too.”

“No I’m not!”

“You’re missing a piece of your leg.”

Shit. He hadn’t noticed. A shard of debris had sliced away part of his thigh, shaved him like he was a ham.

By the time he was done being treated, Sergeant Colt was nothing more than a dream. There was no way to get medical information on him without arousing suspicion, or so Mark thought. So he’d stayed quiet and he’d counted himself lucky and he’d let the man fade from his life and his memory.

Until now.

“I didn’t think I was going to be able to find you,” Damien said with a crooked smile. “He hid you really well.”

“Yeah,” Mark said, his voice catching in his throat. “He did.”

Damien closed the distance between them, his aquamarine gaze softening as he reached out and clasped Mark on the shoulder, his strong hand clenching Mark’s shoulder.

“I missed you.”

Mark’s hard expression began to crack, first with the quivering of his lower lip, then with a tear he couldn’t stop from coming to his eye.

“I missed you too, man,” he breathed. “I can’t believe it’s you who got me. When I saw you in Angelo’s basement… I thought… I don’t even know what I thought. It was like seeing a ghost.”

“I came for you,” Damien, said, coming forward. He wrapped his arms around Mark in their first hug. Back on the base they’d never hugged. Not like this, anyway, not with deep relief and true affection, not with all their longing.

“Why? How did you even?” Mark had so many questions, and he couldn’t even manage to formulate one.

“You saved my life and I never even thanked you,” Damien said. “I’m sort of in law enforcement now. Unofficial capacity. It’s complicated. Lots of acronyms, but anyway, when your name hit our list… hell. I had to do something.”

“My name hit your list?”

“You were most wanted, a rogue federal agent. We’re contracted to clean up messes like that.”

“Clean up?” That word didn’t have any positive connotations in Mark’s mind. Had he been on a fucking shadow government hit list?

Damien gave a little shrug. “It’s not important. What is important is this: I’ve managed to cut a deal for you. You give the police what they need, we’ll make sure you walk free.”

It sounded too good to be true, but Mark trusted Damien with the instinctive bond lovers share even after long periods apart - and with the desperation which a man with no other friends in the world has when thrown a lifeline.

“What do they need?”

“Everything on Angelo.”

“Ah,” Mark nodded. Of course. What else would they need. Everything was always about Angelo. He was the center of the universe.

“You’ve been fucking Angelo for a year,” Damien said cocking his head to the side to give Mark a probing look. “Are they right? Did you really flip?”

“I don’t know,” Mark said. “I mean… you have to believe your own lies to survive, and at a certain point, it doesn’t even matter what’s real anymore. The only thing that is real is what has to happen and what you have to do. I’ve done a lot, Damien. I might have done too much. I didn’t think anyone was coming. I didn’t think I’d ever be free of him or that place. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life hiding out from the world.”

“That’s because he’s a fucking monster,” Damien said, wrapping his arms around Mark’s shoulders, holding him close. “I’m sorry it took me so long, I really am. And I’m sorry this isn’t over. You’re still not out of the woods. They’re going to grill you for a good long time. You’re going to have to tell the investigators everything. Absolutely everything. They’ll need to know where the bodies are buried. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Mark nodded, pulling himself together. Finally he had an ally, someone he could trust. More importantly, someone who believed him. “I can do that.”