Reunion - Chapter 1

"Man of the year, huh?" the blue-eyed assistant said to his boss, the ruler of Rencorp - the company that had an iron-fast monopoly on the technology industry.

Lee Wei Ren let a rare smile grace his face, softening his sharp and striking features. "Looks that way, leh," he said quietly. "Father would be proud..." He'd never planned to get so big, so famous. Things would be more difficult now that he was in the eyes of the media. No more privacy. Now he was everyone's problem.

The assistant lowered himself into Wei Ren's lap and began stroking his dyed hair. Ren rested his head against the other's chest and sighed. "Hey now, it won't be so bad as all that," Said the man as he smiled and continued to play with the gold streak that ran through Ren's bangs.

"Wo bu zhidao, Zeke..." Wei Ren breathed. He closed his dark eyes. "I don't know." Soft lips pressed themselves onto his forehead, nose, cheek, jaw, and then mouth. The great tycoon sighed and allowed himself a moment to relax and melt into the rare affection he was allotted.

Zeke knew he shouldn't be acting this way, especially out in the open. In the eyes of the public, he was just an American business liaison who doubled as Wei Ren's personal assistant. They'd done such a good job of keeping everything secret, waiting until the world was ready. Ready for them, for the hailstorm of hate that would undoubtedly follow the realization that the head of the most powerful company in the world - the "man of the year" - was in love with another man.

Ren's phone blipped and the hallway secretary's nasally voice sounded from it. "Mister Wei Ren, your four 'o clock appointment has arrived" she said, "shall I let him in?"

Zeke jumped off of Ren's lap and straightened his suit. The Chinese man composed himself and took a few deep breaths to take away the flush that had risen on his face. With a slender finger, he pressed the intercom and told the secretary to send in the reporter. "It's private interview," he said to Zeke apologetically just as the door opened.

The black-haired assistant began to walk out the door. He glanced back as Wei Ren stood to shake the man's hand, and in that instant he was the spitting image of his father; tall, strong, and cold - a stone monolith that towered over everything else. Zeke wondered briefly if he'd still be so unbreakable when the secrets came out.

---


The day was slow and drudging as always. Whoever told .D that being a federal agent would give him a life of fast-paced excitement and unceasing intrigue had been lying through his teeth. Sitting at a desk in front of mountains of paperwork was the least exciting and most soul-sucking way to waste away his career.

.D's boss, a senior agent, approached the cubicle and knocked on the wall - a joke of sorts really, as there was no privacy to invade. The man raised his amber eyes in acknowledgement of the intrusion, pausing in his shuffling to give attention to the other man.

"Hey champ," the man began casually. "I've got a case that's dropped below my pay grade. No leads in a couple years - ya know." .D felt his soul die a little more. Another bit of filing to add. "So I just need you to keep some tabs on it, try to round up some new information but don't spend too much energy on it, ay?"

"Of course, Sir," .D said haggardly, accepting the bland folder and placing it on his desk, next to all the other folders that looked exactly the same.

"Atta man," the other agent said, gripping .D's shoulder and giving him a rough shake before departing, leaving .D feeling crushed and numb under the weight of utter disappointment in his life. He opened the folder boredly and poked through the contents. Another file about a crime menace that evaded the authorities too long, just another statistic now.

.D sighted and shuffled the papers around - he might as well do a little research on the subject. His eyes scanned the report, looking for buzzwords. It was about some low-end pusher type, going by the trade name 'Atrox'. Just another drug lord among the city's hundreds.

Having found nothing of interest, A.E.D was about to toss the folder aside when something caught his eye. ...Known rival of the infamous Redback... He paused, rolling the name around, getting a taste of it. Why did it sound so familiar? Perhaps he'd filed reports on him in the past. .D wheeled around his cubicle, landing in front of the last half of the alphabet.

"R.... R... Redback..." he mumbled to himself, fingering his way through the folders in the letter's designated drawer until he found what he was searching for. "Gotcha." He removed the folder and began leafing through it's contents.

According to the folder, this guy was just some kid who dealt in petty drug crimes. .D frowned. There was nothing in here that would warrant his being called 'infamous', he was literally a seventeen-year-old delinquent, nothing more. On top of which, he'd been caught. The folder had a complete rap sheet and the legal charges brought against him. .D turned to the next page and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

The kid had escaped from a high-security prison. Well, that was something worth looking into. He searched through the pile - there had to be mug shots and identification in here somewhere. After three thorough goings-over, .D leaned back in his chair empty-handed.

This Redback kid had no formal identity, according to the file at least. No prints, no legal name, no picture - nothing. As far as he was concerned, Redback was just a name and a crime sheet that got extensively more illicit as it went on.

What the hell?

---

"H-hey, man..." Said a trembling man from the corner of the garage.

Redback took his time wiping the oil from his hands onto his balled-up shirt before turning to face the nervous figure. He looked at the man expectantly, silently.

"L-look can I j-just have my stuff?" The man asked. He was gaunt, thin with blue eyes sunk back in their sockets. His hollow cheeks seemed stretched just a bit too tightly over his skull. His hair was a greasy blonde, dyed green at the ends.

Redback tilted his head. "Have you done what I asked you, Desmond?" He took a moment to pull his now-stained t-shirt over his head to cover the many tattoos and scars that he could feel Des tracing with his eyes.

The addict swallowed nervously and picked at one of the scabs on his arm. "Yeah... Yeah I dumped the body."

"Good," Redback purred before settling onto a stool. He picked up a socket wrench and began examining it. He let the air become deadly silent and thick as Desmond became increasingly nervous. Redback flicked his eyes up to the man and stared intently. "Where did you put him?" His voice was hard, angry, demanding.

Desmond jumped noticeably and began trembling. "I-I just threw him in the river, tied him to some car parts, I dunno man c'mon, he's take care of alright?" the man pleaded, hoping to appease Redback, anything to quell the furious rage that he knew bubbled just inches under the skin.

The eyes lost their flame and Redback settled back on his stool. He began cleaning the wrench, pausing to inspect it periodically. "Alright Desmond. Go visit my supplier. You may have your reward now."

The quaking man stumbled out the door mumbling his thanks. Then, pausing at the threshold he turned back. "Why did you do it, Izm?" he asked in a shaking voice. "I mean... It was Caleb..."

When the drug lord didn't respond, Desmond shook his head sadly and walked out the door. Once the man was out of sight, Izm retrieved his cell phone and dialed. "I've sent Desmond your way," he said as the man on the other end picked up, "Kill him when he gets there." With that, he hung up and went back to polishing his tools.

---

After a long day of filing, A.E.D found his mind continually returning to Redback, the elusive specter that had evaded capture - he was almost an abstract, an idea. .D frowned as he walked down the street, drowning in his thoughts.

How was it possible that a criminal - one who was caught - would have no identity? No fingerprints, no mug shot, no social security number or any other way to prove that he was real. All justice systems record these things, and yet they were absent from the file.

All that remained was a list of crimes and incident reports.

.D was so absorbed in his muddled head that he ran into and knocked over a man who was standing in front of a hotdog vendor. He mumbled his apologies and helped the man off the ground.

"It's no problem," Said the man with a lopsided smile. A.E.D continued on his way.

A moment later, he felt a few gears shift and click into place. That voice, gruffer and deeper than he remembered but still entirely the same, the crooked smile, and those striking eyes. .D whirled around, eyes frantically scanning the crowd. What had he been wearing? He couldn't remember - hadn't taken the time to examine the seemingly nondescript bystander.

Despite his desperate searching - elbowing pedestrians out of his way as he fought to find the man again - he seemed to have melted into the shadows.

.D leaned against a building, breath rasping rapidly against his throat, heart pounding in his ears. "Izm..." he whispered. If that man - that dangerous, incredible, impossible man - was back in his life, things were about to spiral out of control.

And for some reason, .D found himself hungering for that chaos.

---

Zeke's phone buzzed him awake and he answered with a  groggy "hello?"

"I need a favor."

The insomniac's heart sank and he was immediately filled with panic and fury. He looked quickly to Wei Ren who, thankfully, was still sleeping soundly by his side. "Look Izm, I've done you enough favors," Zeke hissed. The things he'd done for this manipulative bastard...

"True, you've done quite a bit for me in the past, and I'm eternally grateful, but," Zeke could hear the leisure and malice in Izm's voice, "I figure you still owe me some."

"What could I possibly owe you, you stupid fuck?" Zeke spat. He could feel the rage rising within him and struggled to bite it back, lest he rouse the sleeping man next to him.

He could feel Izm's smile through the phone.

"I've got someone... Important on my tail, I need you to make me disappear."

"I'll make you fucking disappear," Zeke growled. Izm barked a laugh at the death threat.

"Now, now Zeke... I wouldn't want your 'Man of the Year' to lose everything because you two can't stop mucking about with each other, but honestly it would take me one phone call."

This was low, even for Izm. "Using my loved ones against me now, are we?" Zeke said tersely. "Has it come to that Izm? Are you really that far gone?"

Silence greeted his query, and then the line went dead. Zeke knew he'd comply with Izm's requests - he simply couldn't risk Wei Ren's happiness like this. As long as Izm was around, as long as he had a threat to hang over his head like an impending weight, just waiting to crush him flat, Zeke knew he'd do whatever Izm wanted. He'd play right into his hands.

He buried his face in his hands and wept bitterly in the dark.

---

.D awoke slowly in the darkest hours of the night, groggily aware of a vaguely familiar presence. He blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his mind and raised himself on his elbows.

"Do you remember Paris?" came a voice from the shadows. A silhouette outlined in streetlight stepped forward and approached the bedstead.

"Izm..." .D breathed. For a moment his heart raced and he was caught up in a sudden torrent of emotion - disbelief, hurt, sudden euphoria. Of course he remembered Paris, how could he forget? The long, lingering nights they'd lain awake, rolling over in the soft, smoky midnight hours - just figures intertwined in a bout of languid passion. Promises of forever that never came true. .D could never forget. The red-eyed man lifted a hand to lightly brush .D's cheek. The agent nuzzled against his palm. "It's been so long..." he mumbled.

Izm cupped .D's chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb across the other's lips. "I know it has, .D, but I'm here to make it right..."  The crime lord pressed his hard, firm lips against .D's full and pliant ones, gently hesitant.

Just as always, A.E.D melted under the contact. He'd never been able to hold any long resistance to the overwhelming presence of Izm, the strength of which only seemed to have grown more intoxicating in the years and miles that had separated them. He wanted to ask Izm why he'd come back, wanted to demand an answer from him - after their heart-rending parting years ago, why had he decided to return? But the feeling of Izm against his skin, the weather-beaten hand that still rested against  his jaw; and those chapped, tantalizing lips. It was too much to stand against - .D's head was spinning.

It would have taken too much effort for .D to resist, to put up his careful façade for someone who'd known him so intimately before; especially considering he'd been caught off guard. Truth be told, the whole thing felt like a dream - they way Izm's lips pressed hungrily against his, the rough hands that took hold of his shoulders and pulled him into the embrace, and how he broke for air, gasping against .D's mouth in a way that was raw and expectant and familiar and right.

.D gripped the sides of Izm's face, pulling him back - needing contact. His fingers grazed the rough and knotted scar that ran over the delinquent's face. Izm' flinched and pulled away momentarily. He looked up at .D with guarded eyes.

The agent leaned forward and pressed his lips to the other's forehead. "Let me fix it... Let me make it better..." he mumbled against Izm's hot skin. The man closed his red eyes and relaxed into .D's touch, feeling those soft lips move to the scarred flesh on his eye, his neck, his shoulder, his chest, his abdomen. As if somehow gentle kisses could heal the past and erase the scars, bringing back the flawlessness that Izm had once possessed.

.D wanted that innocence back. His heart ached and pined for the way they were before life got in the way.

He took account of Izm's many, many scars - thrown into drastic relief by the lights from the street below - running his fingertips over them and following with smudged kisses until Izm pulled his head up and locked eyes. The two hadn't taken a second to truly look into each other, the way they so often had when they were younger. .D was startled and unsettled by the amount of hardness and anger that seemed to linger around Izm's eyes.

"It's not your fault, you know," Izm whispered. "It was never your job to save me."

.D lowered his honey eyes, ashamed and guilty. He pressed his cheek against Izm's chest and squeezed his eyes shut. "I could have tried," he murmured. Izm took a moment to run his rough and calloused hands gingerly through .D's hair. After a time, the agent's breathing slowed and he relaxed into the easy grip of sleep.

Izm laid him back on the pillows, settled the bedding neatly around him, and softly stroked his face a final time before striding to the window and disappearing into the night.

As he walked down the city's streets, blind to all its flashing lights and blinking glories, he swore he could feel his scars tingling where .D's lips had graced them. The crime lord scowled; he wanted the sensation to stop.

This was no time to be getting emotional. He had a plan, after all, and falling back in love with .D was not a part of it.

---


.D woke the next morning as his alarm blared, head swirling in a dreamy stupor. The night's visit lurked through his head, shadowy memories that seemed more like smoky yearning. The harder he fought to recall the events, the more they seemed to lose substance and break apart, like trying to grab the disjointed reflection from a pond. The agent sighed and began his day.

After all, it had only been a dream.