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Mar. 10th, 2006 05:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardRandom Bloody Sunday-AU Mac/Val. Spoilers, obviously, but not many.
"When was the last time you slept, Taylor?"
Mac looked up from his computer. "I --"
Val stepped away from the door, his arms crossed in front of him. "When was the last time you slept, Taylor? In a bed, not on your desk."
"That doesn't matter."
Val braced himself on Mac's desk and leaned forward. "Yes, it does, Taylor. Take a look at yourself. You're a wreck. You haven't had a full night of sleep in a week -- hell, you haven't had half a night of sleep in a week."
"My people are dying out there, Constantine." Mac looked back down at the computer. Coppola threatens Chicago judge. He closed his eyes. "Stella -- Danny --" Aiden. Dead and bleeding on a New York sidewalk. Even Flack, with the stump of his hand wrapped in bandage.
He looked back at Val.
The mob boss licked his lips. "And you're tired, Taylor. That'll make you slow. Next man down might be you, and then what? You think I can do this?" He swept an arm out at the newspaper clippings taped to Mac's walls, the financial reports, the DNA results, everything that had ever come back from the Shaw case or the Burn attacks.
"And if I stop I could miss something that will break the case, something --"
Val leaned across the desk and kissed him. "Taylor," he breathed into Mac's mouth, "you need to relax."
"When was the last time you slept, Taylor?"
Mac looked up from his computer. "I --"
Val stepped away from the door, his arms crossed in front of him. "When was the last time you slept, Taylor? In a bed, not on your desk."
"That doesn't matter."
Val braced himself on Mac's desk and leaned forward. "Yes, it does, Taylor. Take a look at yourself. You're a wreck. You haven't had a full night of sleep in a week -- hell, you haven't had half a night of sleep in a week."
"My people are dying out there, Constantine." Mac looked back down at the computer. Coppola threatens Chicago judge. He closed his eyes. "Stella -- Danny --" Aiden. Dead and bleeding on a New York sidewalk. Even Flack, with the stump of his hand wrapped in bandage.
He looked back at Val.
The mob boss licked his lips. "And you're tired, Taylor. That'll make you slow. Next man down might be you, and then what? You think I can do this?" He swept an arm out at the newspaper clippings taped to Mac's walls, the financial reports, the DNA results, everything that had ever come back from the Shaw case or the Burn attacks.
"And if I stop I could miss something that will break the case, something --"
Val leaned across the desk and kissed him. "Taylor," he breathed into Mac's mouth, "you need to relax."