"Declan, I’ve never seen you drink before." He wanted to touch Declan, but Declan’s demeanor was definitely "hands off".

Birkoff’s worried tone chafed at Declan. Slurring his words, Declan told Birkoff in no uncertain terms what he could do with his kindness and his concern. "Shove it up yer arse, where de sun don’t shine!"

Not only was Declan slurring, which made him difficult to understand, but the more he drank, the stronger his brogue seemed to get. Birkoff would have found it endearing, if only Declan weren’t looking daggers at him.

"What de fuck are ya lookin’ at, boyo?"

"You," replied Birkoff, thinking it wasn’t exactly accurate. He had never seen Declan in this state before, he wasn’t even sure if he liked him this way at all.

Birkoff stood up, threw some change on the bar, and decided to cut his losses and return to his quarters. It had been a long, long day, complete with interruptions from Madeline and Operations, who seemed to think that Birkoff could find Michael and Nikita.

As if.

Birkoff had no intention of cooperating with their agenda, but it would take a dexterous hand to ensure that he didn’t get cancelled for his lack of effort. In the meantime, here was Declan, playing the fool. What timing!

"Listen, Dec, I’m heading on back to my room. I need to crash for a few before the next mission comes up."

Declan snorted unhappily at Birkoff, his pale grey eyes shadowy with some mysterious pain that was not yet identifiable. "Shur…leave me fuckin’ flat. See if I care."

Birkoff laid a hand on Declan’s arm. "Declan…what you do is your own business…" Birkoff’s dark brown eyes searched his lover’s face for several seconds. "But you’d better be careful. Section has more eyes and ears than just mine."

"Tanks fer de tip, honey," said Declan incautiously, seemingly disinterested in Birkoff’s very valuable advice.

Declan watched in abject despair as his lover left him alone. "Bloody hell!" he swore in an inappropriately loud voice, catching the attention of a couple of would-be lovers down at the end of the bar.

His head bobbed and weaved as he struggled to stay upright. His eyes filled with tears. How could you leave me like this? was his last coherent thought.

A moment later, his wretched head lay unconscious, cradled in his folded arms.

Birkoff couldn’t sleep. He knew Declan was hurting, and that simply drove him crazy. But more than that, he was afraid for Declan. In his present state, he was an accident waiting to happen.

Throwing on a T-shirt over his jeans, he ran back out into the night, away from Section’s prying eyes. Birkoff didn’t like the fact that he was alone. In a fairly rundown section of the city, too. Normally unwilling to venture outside his cozy quarters at One, Birkoff abandoned that desire once he met Declan. Declan wasn’t always content to stay put.

Returning to the bar, he saw Declan right away. His was the unconscious form awaiting further Section directives.

"Declan!" Birkoff hissed. "Christ, you got a death wish or something?"

Declan stirred slowly, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth set mutinously. "Well, well, look what de cat drug in."

"Declan! Do you have any idea how incoherent you’re starting to sound?" Birkoff whispered.

"Well, mebbe I’ll jes divulge a few secrets and den Section can put me out of my misery an’ cancel me."

"Declannnnn…" Birkoff whined. "What’s the matter?"

Declan looked up at his lover of the past six months, his eyes suddenly tearful. "Dey want me to go away, Sey."

"Away? Away where? Declan, please!" Birkoff was beside himself. This was like pulling teeth, but he had to know.

"Dey want me to go to Asia. It’s only the other fuckin’ side of the earth, honey boy." Declan couldn’t hold Birkoff’s gaze any longer, especially once the news registered in the younger man’s eyes.

"You’re going to leave One?" Birkoff asked anxiously, his mouth quivering.

"Yepyep, got it de first guesh." Declan buried his face in his hands. "Damn, I never been dis drunk before. Mebbe I’ll die soon."

"Who—who told you this?"

"Operations himself, dat’s who. I shoulda known he was too damn happy to see me."

"But Declan, you’re his best cold op. He can’t send you to Seven."

"Can and will, baby. Goddammit, I’m gonna miss ya…" Declan pushed a hand up his face, over his nose and forehead, eventually raking his long red hair back.

"Yeah…" Birkoff stared at Declan’s beloved face for a moment, then turned away. This was going to be like every other good thing in his poor, pathetic life. Everyone who loved him left him. He felt like a magnet for negativity. Bad vibes? Sure, send ‘em over here. Birkoff can take it, he’s used to it. Nothing and no one. That’s what he had.

Before he could stop himself, he said to Declan, "So…you want me to take you back to One? You don’t look like you can travel on your own."

"Sher, sher, sher, boyo. Dat’d be jes fine. And y’know…" Declan crooked a finger at Birkoff, lowering his voice conspiratorially as he leaned towards him.

"What?"

"Mebbe ya could give me a pity fuck?"

Birkoff would have laughed if he hadn’t been so close to crying.

Biting his lip until it bled, Birkoff stared into those pale grey eyes he loved so much. "I can’t help you there, Declan, but I’ll stay with you till morning, and we can make love."

Declan sighed heavily, his own eyes clouding over again. "Yeah. Love. What’s dat?"

Birkoff practically carried Declan back to Section One. Once they were within its confines, however, he was forced to draw back, praying that Declan didn’t fall or otherwise call attention to his inebriated state.

But more than that, he prayed that they did not run into…

Shit! Madeline!

"Declan, you look a bit under the weather." Madeline’s brows knit together in a convincing picture of sympathy.

Declan met her eyes unsteadily. He didn’t fall for that act of innocence for one second. He didn’t speak. She might think he was drunk or sick or any one of a thousand different things, but until he opened his mouth, she couldn’t prove it.

Birkoff chirped unhappily, "I’m just running him up to Medlab, Madeline. He’s not feeling well."

"So I see," she smiled mysteriously. "This doesn’t have anything to do with your new assignment, does it, Declan?"

Declan blinked, but his expression never changed. He had been trained well. There was no reason to give anything away at this point. She was just fishing.

"Ah, well, I’ll expect a full report from Medlab within the hour, then." With a seemingly careless wave, she vanished into her lair.

Declan looked at Birkoff. "Shit, Sey, now we gotta spend our last night together apart. Nice going."

Birkoff looked crestfallen. "I’m sorry, Dec." Tears glittered in his dark eyes. "I guess you can find your own way up there, then."

Birkoff turned abruptly, leaving Declan standing there, staring after him. Declan sniffled. Nothing worse than an Irish drunk. Unless it was a melancholy Irish drunk.

Minutes later, Birkoff was standing in Comm. He didn’t know why he had come here. He was on downtime. He was supposed to be sleeping. In his own quarters. Not hanging around Comm, looking over his nemesis’ shoulder.

"Hey, Hillinger, anything interesting going on?"

Hillinger spun around in his chair, positively amazed that Birkoff was speaking to him, and pleasantly, too. He stuck his lollipop in his cheek and said, "You’re up way past your bedtime, Seymour, want me to come and tuck you in?"

Birkoff flinched. That was what he got for trying to be even remotely friendly to Hillinger. A shadow crossed Birkoff’s face, and he replied, coolly, "Nah, I got an anatomically correct teddy bear that you could have, though, Greggie. Would that help?"

"Fuck you!" Hillinger snapped, sitting up sharply in his chair.

"Not on a bet, asshole!" Birkoff shouted, abruptly realizing that their faces were inches apart. Christ, Hillinger looked like he wanted to kiss him. Now wouldn’t that be the way to end the evening from Hell?

Hillinger stuck his tongue out and licked Birkoff on the mouth. Birkoff nearly slugged him then and there, but he didn’t know who was watching. Heaving a longsuffering sigh, Birkoff looked Hillinger straight in the eye and said, "Is that all the balls you’ve got, Greggie? What a fucking moron!"

Hillinger took the lollipop out of his mouth and ran his tongue up and down its length, staring at Birkoff the entire time. Birkoff merely gazed at him impassively. "Blow me!"

"I’d like to," said Hillinger in a small voice.

Birkoff stalked off without another word, thinking the night could not possibly get any worse.

He was wrong, of course.

He slammed into his quarters, refusing to think about where Declan was or might be by morning. It was all his fault. He never should have gotten involved with him. He muttered to himself through a shower, a bowl of Cheerios, with extra sugar, and the re-making of his bed, which was in dire need of attention after his tryst with Declan that morning.

"Shit!" he shouted as loudly as he could. Throwing himself onto his stomach on the bed, he wrestled with the covers for several long minutes before finally finding a semi-comfortable position to sleep in.

"Tomorrow, first thing, I’m getting a fucking haircut. I mean it, I don’t care if they shave my whole fucking head as bald as a cueball!" Having said that, Birkoff punched his pillow, burying his face in it, almost to the point of not being able to breathe.

He closed his eyes, but he could feel a tear trickling its way down his cheek. Damn! He wasn’t going to cry over Declan. It wasn’t like he was losing him. He’d never really had him to begin with. It was a swell affair while it lasted, boyo, he thought to himself.

He cried himself to sleep, falling into an uneasy slumber punctuated by the most surrealistic of dreams. His muscles twitched restlessly, and his arousal stirred to life. He was dreaming. A hot dream. An erotic dream. A fucking wet dream. And it wasn’t about Declan either.

No, to his utter horror, Hillinger was the star of this particular movie in his head. He kept hearing Hillinger say, "I want to suck your dick, Seymour," in that weasel voice of his. Unfortunately, no matter how small he thought Hillinger’s eyes were, his body thought he was somewhat attractive, in a small furry mammal sort of way.

He flung himself onto his back with a loud cry, panting and gasping. To his total embarrassment, he found that he’d come all over himself. Like a teenager in the throes of passion. "Goddammit!" he screamed at no one in particular.

Before he could get up to take yet another shower, Birkoff saw a shadowy figure enter the room. The light clicked on, and Birkoff stopped breathing entirely. It was Declan.

"What are you doing here?"

Declan ran his sad eyes over Birkoff’s body, noting the state of his groin. "They just released me from Medlab, and I came here, hoping to catch you before I had to leave. But I see you wasted no time at all in replacing me, you fucking bitch." Declan was so angry, he couldn’t even see straight.

The whole time he was in Medlab, he kept seeing Birkoff’s anguished look when he left him. He was sure he would find him grieving over him, maybe even languishing in bed. But no…he found him sitting up in bed, his groin full of fresh come, obviously well-sated.

"It’s not what you think, Declan," Birkoff said defensively.

Declan was no longer drunk. Medlab had seen to that. But he was unbelievably furious. "I’m in love with you, goddammit! How could you do this to me?"

"I didn’t do anything," Birkoff said through gritted teeth. "I had a fucking dream!"

That took Declan by surprise. "Oh? About me?" Declan asked wistfully.

Birkoff shook his head slowly. "About Hillinger."

"Hillinger? Good God, Sey! I’m not even out the fucking door yet and you’re in bed with that whore?"

Birkoff crossed his arms, trying to look nonchalant. "He may be a whore, but at least he gives good head."

Declan almost flew apart. He leaped onto the bed, grabbing Birkoff by the neck, his grip so tight that Birkoff’s body came up off the mattress. "I could fucking kill you for that."

He released him just as abruptly as he’d grabbed him. "I don’t even know if I’m ever going to see you again, Sey." Burying his face in his hands, Declan hid his tears from his lover, but it was apparent that Declan was overcome by emotions he was unused to dealing with.

Birkoff stood up and padded barefoot into the bathroom. There, he took a wet towel and cleaned himself up. Now at least he felt less guilty.

"I’ve never been unfaithful to you, Declan. I don’t care if you believe me or not. But it’s true," Birkoff said with quiet authority.

Birkoff pulled back the covers and slid under them, turning his back on the man he wanted to love forever. "I don’t know why you went out and got drunk, if you supposedly love me all that much."

Declan paled. Reaching out to capture a strand of Birkoff’s silky long hair, he swallowed. "I do love you all that much, honey boy, why do you think I got drunk in the first place? Cause I don’t ever want to leave you, puppy." Birkoff’s shoulders moved under Declan’s touch.

Dammit, now they were both in tears. "Sey? Come here, baby," he said, holding his arms out for Birkoff.

"Oh, God, Declan, you mean I’m really never going to see you again?" Birkoff sobbed against Declan’s chest.

Declan’s hands crept through Birkoff’s thick dark hair. He knew exactly how he felt. He kissed his lover’s temple, his mouth warm against Birkoff’s soft skin. "I’m never going to stop loving you, sweetie," he whispered, his voice breaking anyway.

"Never?"

"I swear it."

They slept in each other’s arms all night long. They would have made love, but their feelings were so intense and so close to the surface right now, they would never have been able to leave one another in the morning.

But that didn’t stop them from showing the affection that leaped just as fiercely between them. Declan’s mouth was never far from his lover’s face or skin or hair. Birkoff was afraid to let go of Declan, and his sleep was broken by restless fits and starts as he awoke, anxiously checking to see if Declan still lay there.

When dawn finally came, Birkoff awoke for the last time, deciding to get up for the day. Sensing that his lover was not next to him, Declan soon came awake as well. He spotted Birkoff standing by the coffee machine in the tiny nook that served as a kitchenette. He was staring off into space. Unmoving. His naked body beautiful in the early morning light, but visibly tense, even from a distance.

"Sey?" Declan croaked hoarsely, straining to move into a sitting position.

Birkoff never turned around. His voice sounded so bereft, so desperate, it hurt to hear it. "What am I going to do without you, Declan?"

Declan stood up shakily, his long red hair falling over one shoulder. When he reached Birkoff, he wrapped his arms around him, and then, Birkoff moved. He turned to face Declan, his eyes so dark, they might have been pieces of the midnight sky.

There was no sound except for their own tortured breathing as they gazed at one another. "Sey…" Declan began, struggling to find words.

Birkoff reached out and touched Declan’s mouth with his fingers. "No, no, it’s okay. Now that I know what I am, I’ll just go out and…and…find somebody else…right? That’s what you want me to do, right? You don’t want me to stay home, crying, every night, right?"

"I would never force you to wait for me, Sey. I don’t even know if I’m coming back." Declan’s voice matched Birkoff’s eyes. Dark. Tense. Frightened.

"I mean, it would be stupid to just…sit here…night after night…crying…right?" But Birkoff *was* crying. He felt like he would never stop.

Declan kissed him, partly to stop his tragic rambling, partly to assuage his own feelings of abandonment. Birkoff stared at him, his eyes drenched with wetness, huge tears rolling down his pale cheeks. "You know I’m never ever going to love anyone else, don’t you?" he whispered.

"I wish I could say something that would make us both feel better, puppy." Declan held onto Birkoff, knowing that the moment for their parting was drawing near.

All at once, Birkoff buried his face against Declan’s chest, sobbing mightily for such a small person. "I…love…you…"

Declan closed his eyes, somehow sensing that if he lost control now, they would both be as good as dead. There would be no possible way to hide what they felt for each other.

"Sey…listen to me…I think we should say goodbye here, baby. I don’t think either one of us is a good enough actor to pretend we just don’t give a damn."

"You want me to go back to bed?" Birkoff sniffled.

Declan stroked Birkoff’s thick dark hair away from his face, his roughened fingertips abrading his skin ever so gently. "Just close your eyes, honey boy, and listen to me getting dressed, just like it was any other morning. Okay? Can you do that for me, baby?"

Birkoff nodded slowly. "I’ll try."

"But I don’t want you to hear the door close between us. So I’ll just pull it shut, real…quiet like. Okay?"

"Okay, Declan," Birkoff’s voice wobbled, his eyes swimming in tears.

"And…and we won’t even say the word ‘goodbye’. Okay, love?" Declan continued to stroke Birkoff’s face, mesmerizing him, hypnotizing him into letting him go without a struggle. It was futile.

Birkoff smiled then, the tiny creases at the corners of his mouth moving erratically. "You’ll never be able to forget me, you know…"

"I know."

Without another word, Birkoff walked slowly to the bed and lay down on his stomach. He refused to make it easy for Declan to leave him, even though he knew that it was not a choice of Declan’s making.

"Dream of me," Birkoff whispered, without looking back over his shoulder at Declan.

"Always." Declan wiped a tear away from his pale grey eyes and pulled on his pants.

"Always."