"I have to talk to Macey," Lenny huffed, gasping for air like a fish thrashing on a dry bank as he tore the trodes from his head, a length of his hair hanging from the inner webbing.

Silas took the deck gently from Lenny's shaking hands. "Tell me."

"She got into Macey's limo. Mace picked her up."

"Lenny. I gotta ask. Could this Wren be a mole for the Shaman?"

"No. I don't know. It doesn't feel like her."

"You've seen clips of hers before? When she wore?"

"Yeah. He wants the clip of Jeriko's murder. Feels entitled to it by blood."

"Who, Lenny?"

"Jonah. Jeriko's son."

"Take some deep breaths while I watch it. You gotta keep it together, man."

"Macey. I gotta call her."

"They said one call a day. They'll be listening."

"How do I know she's still in protective custody, or if she ever was? What if she just says whatever she's forced to say?"

"Unknowable at this point. Breathe. I'll be right back." Silas checked out, traveling the path Lenny had just walked, his eyes darting back and forth behind their lids. Macey answered on the second ring.

"Macey. You picked up someone at the Beverly Hilton. Leather skirt, beaded handbag."

"Hey, Lenny. It's good to hear from you, too. Yes, we're safe, thanks for asking-"

"Mace, this is important. Where did you drop that fare?"

"The airport."

"When?"

"Yesterday afternoon, around four."

"Are you okay? I'm sorry about this. All of it."

"We're both good. Just get this prick, Lenny."

"I will. I love you, Lornette."

"I know, babe. Talk to you soon."

Had she been forced to hang up so abruptly? Lenny moaned in anguish, watching Silas' eyes moving as if deep in REM sleep. Lenny pocketed the phone the Chief had given him before Silas finished the clip.

"Lenny," said Silas suddenly, emerging rapidly from playback, his pupils still dilated. "We can't catch these people without going deep cover. There's no way you won't be recognized, you're public enemy number one to anyone running with this crew. We don't know if Wren can be trusted. That leaves me, or whoever else we bring in."

"Wren has people embedded, no idea who they are, or where. They've never fucked me over before."

"You're gonna have to go into hiding too, Lenny. You saw what they did to that guy. They won't hesitate to cook you off, or put a bullet in your head."

"Same difference," Lenny muttered, thinking of Tick.

"You should have gone with Mace. Your Chief really humped the bunk there."

"I'm a cop. He knows this is my case. It's been my case since the eve of the Millennium, and before."

"That's a lovely story of redemption, but it won't save your life, or mine by extension. They're coming for you, Lenny, which means they're coming for me, too."

"Then we'd better keep moving."

Neither of them were hungry anymore, and they left the restaurant parking lot and hit the freeway again, heading for the airport.

It was even hotter in Palm Springs. Mace sat beside the pool watching Zander swimming in lazy circles until he gave up and floated on his back.

Mace hadn't heard from Lenny in three days. Each day she and Zander were moved to another safe house. This one was a sprawling rancher with tiled everything and a jungle of well-tended plants and air that smelled lifeless and unlived in.

A plainclothes officer stood in the shade watching them both, another patrolling out front. LAPD was sparing no expense to keep the location of the Jeriko clip hidden, to keep Mace's memory of it from being plundered by SQUID pirates who would murder her and Zander after they got what they wanted, and some immigrant named Lucia or Mariana would be brought in to clean their blood off the expensive tiles, the news of their deaths kept from the papers and news stations.

Her last words to Lenny had been tinged with anger, and now she longed to speak gentler ones, longed for the release only his body and voice and presence could provide. It had always been him, even back when she was pulling his ass out of the fire every other day, even before; since the day the cops had hauled Octavius down the walk of her old house in Whittier. Octavius had barely been shoved into the police cruiser yet and Zander was already bonded to Lenny, and in that moment when Mace had come upon the two of them sitting on Zander's bed reading Thomas the Tank Engine, so had Mace. All three of them knew it in that moment, knew that what could have been the most devastating day of their lives for two of them had turned out to be golden for all three.

Mace and Zander should have been just two more names on a report to Lenny then, the unfortunate wife and son of a small-time baller who had ideas above his station, filed away and forgotten, their case forwarded on to the courts.

They had all called her crazy for her devotion to Lenny until that New Years Eve that still had them by the throats. She had been the one who had insisted on giving the Police Commissioner the clip of Jeriko's murder that night, insisted it would change things. It had. Now all three of them were being hunted.

"Miz Mason," called the man in the shade whose name Macey had already forgotten. "I'll have to ask both of you to come inside. We're getting reports of suspicious activty in the area."

"Nero," Mace grunted. "My last name is Nero."

The music in the club rose, swelling like an imminent orgasm, thumping like an arrhythmia in need of a jolt from the paddles. Wren moved through the crowd like a ghost, Michael Reynolds tonight, unremarkable in jeans and a pastel v-neck tee, hair pulled severely back. She chafed at her original incarnation, the half-day's growth of beard, the strange gait without her customary heels, her psyche screaming for the hormones she had stopped taking in order to disappear in plain sight. From Wren to Ren in only days. Had she really been born this way?

She was just another gay man to the prancing, preening flocks she pushed past, oblivious to the appreciative glances, to the random caress of a strange hand on her backside. She dropped her eyes continually, avoiding anyone who might recognize her from the old days. One of the bartenders was undulating on the bar, his face contorted with some inner secret, and most eyes were gratefully on him.

Wren was chasing down every lead personally, and rumor had it the Shaman might be holding court here tonight. If she made it upstairs, she'd know right away by the entourage. If they knew her, she wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

Mace drowsed in front of the TV, worrying, wondering how Cecile was getting along minding Macey's shop, sifting through old memories of lost afternoons with Lenny, her own personal playback catalog. Her eyes grew heavy, and she fell into a restless sleep, the slumber of one who had slept too much of late.

She has to touch him, to pull against the soft strands of his hair and push her hips up into him. He does something with his tongue that makes her gasp and she's almost there. She can feel the wax and wane of an orgasm building at the base of her spine and she wants to beg him for more, to grind against him, to make him do what she wants when he slips first one and then two fingers inside of her and she feels the pulse of it ignite. Then she's clawing for it, reaching and gasping when she knows she should just breathe and let it roll over her but Mace has never been the type to wait for what she can take.

She grabs the tail of it, pumps her hips up with no regard for his safety and she swears she can hear him laugh. He grabs her hips and pins them to the bed, sucks until it's on the wrong side of pleasure but something fantastic is right behind that and she can't get herself to make him stop. He slips a third finger in and that's all it takes. She comes on a low gasp, squeezes him between her thighs before she remembers that he needs to breathe, and sets him free.

She's still shivering from it when she watches Lenny climb onto the bed and into the cradle of her thighs. She's seen him naked before but he was always drugged up and bloody. She's never been able to admire his wiry musculature or his big hands or his blue eyes before without feeling like a pervert. She wishes she could lay him out and take her time with it but he kisses her again. Puts his mouth against hers like he shouldn't but he can't not and she moans at the taste of herself on his lips. Mace wraps her legs around his hips, reaches down between them when Lenny stops her. She can see he wants it but when she tries to shake him off, he won't let go.

"Will you…" he finishes by twirling his finger in a circle.

She's indignant at first. Angry that he doesn't want to see her face, sure that he wants to imagine someone else...

"Stop thinking," he whispers and she remembers that he choose her. That he gave her the tape of Jeriko's murder even if it meant Faith's death and she calms down.

Mace turns onto her stomach, gets caught in her gown before pulling it over her head and is moving to get up onto her knees when he leans against her back, making her lie flat. The position makes her nervous and she's shocked by the flutter of arousal that awakens in her. He drags his hand down her side, bends a thigh out at the knee and begins to work his way inside. He goes slowly, too slowly, even though she's wet enough that he doesn't need to be careful. She thinks he's doing it to tease her and it's working. It's making her grab the sheets in fistfuls, it's making her shameless, it's making her want to tell him things it's too soon to say.

She thinks he planned it to do just that but she can't. Not yet at least.

Lenny spreads her out, shoves one of his hands between the mattress and her skin to reach her breasts and lets the other circle her clit, moans "Macey," between her shoulder blades with a grin and she smiles too. She lets herself enjoy this moment without worrying if it'll last.

When she wakes up, there are shafts of light coming in through the parts of the window he didn't entirely cover and Lenny's wrapped around her back like a shawl. They're barely hanging on to the very edge of the bed and Mace begins to disentangle herself gently. Why the hell did she let this happen? Because she's weak, Mace thinks as she slips from the bed and starts to pull on her clothes. She's always been weak around him. When she turns, searching frantically for a pair of missing underwear, he's sitting up in bed, his hair's disheveled and his face is soft with sleep. She can feel herself smile at him without her permission.

"Where are you going?" He croaks.

"Zander. I've been gone too long."

He nods his head. They're a very bad idea. He's flighty and she's controlling and the practical side of her is aware that it'll never work. That she should just spare herself the pain.

Lenny nods and says, "Yeah. It's sunny outside."

She fidgets for a moment, waits for him to say something, anything else, before clearing her throat and walking to the door. Then he calls to her and she turns back.

"I can come too."

She knows better than to take a chance on something so risky and Mace isn't sure if he's just asked her a question or stated a fact but she says yes anyway.

Mace has always been the one to give more, to love more, to do more and to forgive more.

She's beginning to accept that she isn't the only one. That, maybe, it isn't a death sentence.