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An Urban Fantasy in Three Acts	By : Alhazred Category: Individual Celebrities > Athlete/Sports Misc Views: 1362 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the people written about in this fanfiction. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
The following is a work of fiction. It would be pretty stupid to say any resemblance to real people is coincidental, but any resemblance to real events, personalities and, yes, even sexuality of those involved most certainly is not based on fact.
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"Alright Michael," Bob called, "Haul yourself out."

Michael climbed out of the pool in short order, noticing Bob had stopped him a little early. How strange for him, Michael thought. He was expecting to be run ragged to make up for the pool time he'd missed. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Bob didn't look up from the clipboard he was writing on until he was finished. "I can tell you've been exerting yourself the last few days, whatever the hell you've been doing. Wouldn't be the first time I've seen someone's body do funny things going from one activity to another and then back. And speaking of backs, considering yours, taking it slow is a good thing here."

"Wow," Michael blinked, suddenly more conscious if the water dripping off of him. All at once, it was loud enough to mute the sounds of the college swimmers doing their thing behind him. "Do I look tired?"

"Subtly," Bob went back to scribbling on his pad, and then he looked over Michael's shoulder to his team in the pool before he found a reason to raise his voice. "Hey, you call that a butterfly? Do it right if you're going to put in the effort!"

Curious, Michael turned to the pool himself; he wondered how badly the team was doing right now. "They're probably just distracted..."

"Distracted? Over Sullivan? Michael, I'm glad you don't hang around enough to socialize, I don't think I could deal with you turning into an emotional wreck on top of everything else." Bob shook his head. "Hell, the new team captain has a missing persons report on him now. I choose to pretend everything's normal and hope they need normalcy more than coddling, because frankly, I'm not a good coddler. It's all I can do."

"Fair enough," Michael nodded. "Thanks, again, for the, ah, leave of absence."

"Just call your mother when you get a chance, she worries sick when you turn your phone off," Bob said. "And don't thank me, Michael, I put up with you because you give me a reason to. That's on you."

Wondering what Bob meant, Michael said, "What reason?"

Sighing, quite unhappy that he now had to spend time explaining himself, Bob went on. "Michael, you know what I like about you? You're a punk and sometimes you royally piss me off, but despite that, you manage to stay perfectly committed to a work ethic once you've got it going, even through all your bullshit. Your back notwithstanding, of course. That's really all I ask."

Smiling, Michael couldn't help but think, 'if only you knew.' "See you this afternoon, Bob."

He left for the locker room then, intent on finding Lenny and Ian so he could spend time with them before his afternoon workout. He'd barely seen either of them since things had returned to some semblance of normal, and Lenny more so. Ian never seemed to be anywhere Michael could find him, and he wanted to see him again because, if nothing else, his flight back home left in a few hours.

Still, he couldn't complain. Lenny was always close enough to protect him if Cal had a friend or relative waiting in the wings to antagonize him again, but far enough to be inconspicuous. He was starting to think he was in the clear.

Micheal nodded to someone from the team making his way out of the locker room as he walked in, but he received a bit of a shock when he turned around a bank of lockers to find his own. The detective who had knocked on his door to ask him about Mack was leaning on it.

He couldn't remember the guy's name, but it was too late to slip away unnoticed, though Michael's fear that he'd somehow been connected to Mack's death even further was a little eased when he realized the man was reading a copy of Sports Illustrated.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Phelps...hope you don't mind, I didn't want to make a scene while you were busy."

"Uh, no, not at all," Michael blinked. "I, uh, forgot your name."

"Jenkins," he answered. "Detective Jenkins. Not that I'm working at the moment."

"Oh," Michael blinked again. He willed his body to actually move, and ended up leaning against the same set of lockers, his arms crossed. It had been a long, long time since he'd felt awkward clothed only in a speedo and cap around anyone, but something about being cornered in the locker room, cornered by a police detective made him feel fourteen again. He took his cap off, suddenly a little self-conscious of the fact that it was one of the ones with his name on it. "So...what can I do for you?"

"Well," folding his magazine and tucking it under his arm, Jenkins fixed him with a serious look. "It just so happens that when I'm not making arrests, I write a few articles here and there for a local tabloid."

If Michael had been surprised to see the man standing at his locker, he was surprised at least just as much all over again right now. "Wow. I never would've guessed...what affinity?"

"Fire," Jenkins looked proud of himself, and just to prove it, he gave Michael a thumbs-up with his free hand, his thumb itself burning nicely for a few seconds before he let the flame fizzle out. "Anyway...your friend Mr. Krayzelburg let the local lord know about the dude who attacked you, and I was wondering if you'd like to tell the story. To me, for that matter. I don't get much interesting stuff to write about, believe it or not."

"And this is interesting?" Michael chuckled.

"To tell you the truth," Jenkins went on. Michael noticed a change in his demeanor; he wasn't trying to be in charge of the room anymore, he was almost downright flustered. "You might say I'm a fan."

"Well, I guess...a fan? I don't think I've ever met a fan from a police station," Michael couldn't help himself. "Uh...not that I don't appreciate it, I mean, just..."

"Oh, we all are at the station," Jenkins waved him off. "We haven't had cable in our break room for, like, a year now, so last summer we went nuts missing pre-season football until someone said 'fuck it' and we watched the Olympics instead. We got good reception with NBC."

It had to be the weirdest thing Michael had ever heard. "Wow. Well...thanks...um, I'm kinda busy for the rest of the day, can you call me or something and we'll set up a time?"

"Sure, I appreciate it," Jenkins gave him a nod, and Michael reclaimed his locker.

It occurred to him for a second that he hadn't given the guy his phone number, but he doubted he really had to. Instead, he had another thought, and he called, "Hey, Detective, wait a minute!"

By the time Jenkins came back to his set of lockers, Michael had fished a conveniently placed permanent marker out of his and was quickly scrawling his signature out on the swim cap he'd just taken off. "Um...here!"

He tossed it, and Jenkins eyes grew wider than anyone's eyes should ever get at the prospect of handling used sports gear, even something innocent. "Wow...that's awesome."

"Least I can do," Michael shrugged.

Jenkins didn't go for the door back to the pool this time, he went for the back door that led outside, infrequently used because it was much more walking to get to the parking lot than going through the building. Michael was grateful Jenkins went that way, considering he pulled it on over his own head as he left. "Thanks, man...wow...I can't wait to see the look on my partner's face..."

Beside himself, Michael couldn't help but grin. So he had fans in strange places; he was willing to bet law enforcement officers didn't like big-name actors who made cop movies nearly as much.

He was still in the locker room pulling a shirt on when Ian found him. It was funny, really; because Michael was starting to think that Ian seemed to be avoiding him. He hadn't thought Ian was that traumatized over the whole 'hey, magic is real and, oh yeah, someone wants to kill me' thing. Maybe there was some shock in the transition, going from being exposed to all of that to life going back to normal literally overnight.

Nevertheless, Michael didn't really care where Ian might've been all day, killing time before his flight out by doing things that involved not seeing him. Because he was here now, and Michael would take what he could get. "Hey! Where've you been?"

"Um," Ian said, his feet shuffling on the floor, "Mostly hanging out with Lenny..."

"Yeah?" Michael paused; he started putting the things he didn't need into his locker rather slowly, trying to figure out what was off here. Ian looked tired, not like he hadn't gotten enough sleep, the kind of tired Michael had recently experienced during finals. His roommates, who had more classes then he did, had gone through it even more. Sure, Michael did a lot more by being in the pool, but they had to put a lot of thinking effort into their days, and that was it's own kind of fatigue. "Been saying mean things behind my back?"

At least Ian chuckled. "Nah, I just picked his brain some more about...the stuff you guys do. I didn't realize it was such a...culture."

"Scary, isn't it?" Michael nodded. He decided to just drop the act and be direct; the last time he'd kept things from Ian, weird things happened. "Have you been avoiding me the last two days, Ian?"

"Yeah."

"Well." Michael blinked. At least he was honest. "Why?"

"Yeah, y'know," Ian tried to spit some form of sentence, or maybe even a phrase or a fragment out, but he just couldn't get it. He was shaking, very subtly, Michael noticed it in his hands because he held them slightly up, probably without realizing it. Ian's feet shifted again. "It was like...I couldn't handle it, you know? Lenny just drove it home..."

"Okay Ian, breath," Michael took a step towards him, but he stopped when Ian back off. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You."

Now Michael was confused. What the hell had Lenny said? For the last two days, nonetheless? Michael was starting to wonder if Ian wasn't so okay with the gay thing after all. "Hey, what's I do?"

"I can't handle you, Michael!" Ian was almost yelling; whether or not he knew there was no one else in the room was anyone's guess.

"Really," Michael sat down on the bench, bracing himself for the worst. "Why?"

"I've never," Ian started. He paced around for a few steps, set free now that Michael wasn't taking up any walking space. But he only turned once before he looked at Michael and just deflated. "I've never...Christ, Mike, when you said you'd die for me...did you think I'd actually believe it?"

"Uh," Michael blinked. As far as he was concerned...what wasn't to believe? "I kinda did."

"Well, I didn't." Ian clearly wasn't okay with this, even if he suddenly sounded a lot more...quiet than usual. "That...that's just...I've never had anyone almost die for me before, man...I can't take it. What makes me worth someone else's life? Worth yours, for crying out loud!"

When Ian ran out of things to say, he just deflated, his hands falling to his sides with a wonderful little clap against his pants. Ian's silence gave Michael a bit of an epiphany, he stood up, made it halfway to putting his hands on Ian's shoulders without thinking about it, and then caught himself, staying at arm's length. "So...is this what you've been talking to Lenny about?"

"Sometimes," Ian said. "He's smarter than he lets on."

It killed Michael to see Ian hurting, especially because Ian wasn't one to angst around all that much like he was. When Ian was obviously disturbed, it was probably serious. "Yeah, I know..."

"He said," Ian sighed, "One thing he said...I told him all this, and he said I should just stop worrying about it and be thankful somebody thinks that much of me."

"Well," Michael was quite taken aback; he hadn't really expected that one. After all, Ian knew what Michael's thoughts on the matter were. "It's okay, Ian...really, it is. I don't regret it, honest."

"It's not okay," Ian went on. "It's just...like...I don't know, I can't help but wonder if he's right."

One eyebrow going up, Michael said, "If he's 'right?'"

"That I should be a lot more...not even thankful, that maybe I shouldn't be...God, I can't believe I'm saying this," Ian shook his head, rubbing his eyes in the vain hope that he would open them again and see that he was somewhere else. "That I shouldn't be...I mean, I can pretty much guarantee you're the only one who's cared about me like that and that much, at the same time...so maybe I shouldn't be picky about someone giving me that much just because..."

Since when was Ian the mentally handicapped one, Michael wondered. "Because..."

"Just because it's you." Ian took a deep breath, and Michael recognized the air Ian had about him, it reminded him a lot of himself on the two occasions he came out, and when he'd been arrested. That weight on Ian’s shoulders of a landmark moment, something he'd always carry, for better or for worse. "There, I said it."

To say Michael felt like he was in the Twilight Zone would've been correct. "Ian, look..."

Ian grabbed him. In all the years Michael had endured the death grip of his mother's hugs, and the awkwardness of his father just barely reaching around him, and the friendliness of his sisters glomping their brother...even hugging Ian in the pool after that gold in Athens, Michael had never, ever been so moved by another human being wrapping their arms around him.

It took Michael a few seconds to hug Ian back, he was so surprised. Even when Ian said, almost choked, "Just...just stay safe, Mikey...don't get yourself killed over this stuff before I...before I...I don't know, before I think about things a little more..."

He couldn't help himself; Michael just couldn't stand there numbly. It was like an open gate, inviting him inside, Ian's arms squeezing him a torture egging him on to do the forbidden. Besides, Ian was hugging him, after all. So, before he could even wonder if it was a good idea, he moved just enough to kiss Ian on the cheek.

It was quick, painless. Probably. Hopefully. Michael started having his doubts that it was any semblance of a good idea when Ian's arms slowly lost their grip and he just slipped back, their eyes locking. He was too shocked at what Ian had said and what he'd done about it to even wonder what Ian was thinking while he didn't blink.

"I, uh," Ian said. He took a step back. "I...really need to get going. My plane's really leaving soon, I...I need to get going." Even as he edged towards the door, Ian never looked away until he left. "I'll call. Or something...I promise."

Just like that, he was gone. Just like that, Michael stood there for a good five minutes, not moving, not even thinking, just remembering what it felt like to give Ian that quick peck on the cheek. If Ian ended up speaking to him again, he thought it just might finally be something better than seeing his name in the first-place slot in Athens.

Eventually, Michael's legs protested at remaining perfectly still for awhile, and as he sat down on the bench, Lenny walked in. He was still wearing that weird white suit. "Mike, dearest of all my friends...I was beginning to think you started a shower and drowned; we are still getting lunch, right? Hey...what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Lenny," Michael started chuckling, because, really, everything was so absolutely ridiculous that it was automatically funny anyway. "My life just got weird."

~*~*~

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Some random notes:

-The supporting characters are all, usually vaguely, named after characters from Howl’s Moving Castle. Lord Howel should be obvious. Cal is from Calcifer, Mack Sullivan is from Madam Sulliman. Jenkins and Pendragon were Howl’s aliases.

-The fight scenes are patterned on specific action sequences. The fight in the alley is Beatrix Vs. Elle from Kill Bill and the final showdown is Starbuck Vs. Six from Battlestar Galactica 113: Kobol's Last Gleaming. The "Arrow of Apollo" mentioned near the end is also from Battlestar Galactica.

-Cal himself is somewhat BSG inspired. I remembered, as I was planning out how to go about this, something Ron Moore said during one of his episodic podcasts, about a character that was so obviously not what he appeared to be...probably. Moore's thought on the matter was, instead of trying to fool the audience, because most viewers would see through the facade even if the writing itself had no hints, that he would let the audience in on the secret from the onset. Instead, the idea is to instill seeds of doubt every now and then, just to mess with the audience's heads. This is essentially what the narrative tries to do with Cal; he's the only other character and is probably the secret villain by default, but...would the villain be made out to admire the main character and show up on his doorstep out of concern as well? Here's hoping it worked.

-Lenny’s sage advice on hand-to-hand combat is based on the general philosophy taught to students of Uechi-Ryu (his quote about swordplay is something my Sensei likes to say) and Lenny's appearance is based on the Russian mafia don Vladimir Lem from Max Payne.

-The time references given at the beginning of every act, after we see the chunklets of Michael's fight with Cal, don't match up. The result of poor planning on my part, if you count the number if nights that pass in the narrative, it adds up to about four days, not the week originally stated.

-The inscription on Michael’s sword is half a reference to Kill Bill and half a flagrant rip from Advent Children.

Music that got me in the mood while working on this (or, "Music I'm listening to now and you should try to find because...uh...I said so...maybe?):
-Chiasm - Isolated
The song from the club. Has a nice tune to it, and it struck me that it could apply to Michael or anyone in his in-the-closet position if you really wanted to think of it like that. So I thought it might be fun if Micheal wanted to think of it like that.

-Kill Bill vol. 2 - A Silhouette of Doom
From the scene I borrowed the fight from, excellent for building tension and then hitting the climax.

-Battlestar Galactica - Destiny
Again, the music from the actual fight scene I patterned one after. Very tribal and raw for an in-your-face no-holds-barred feeling.

-Battlestar Galactica - Kobol's Last Gleaming
Calm, soothing, and foreboding, almost something you would hear in church, but not quite.

-Lacuna Coil - Swamped
Michael and Ian's theme, in my own little world, anyway. I picture them walking down a beach sometime after this takes place, nervously/cautiously/experimentally hand-in-hand with this in the background.

-Kill Bill vol. 2 - Chingon Maleguena Salerosa
So happily remixed from the original by Chingon. Upbeat and cheery and yet dramatic at the same time.

-VNV Nation - Dark Angel
I just have a thing for this song at the moment. If I go through and write a sequel, though, with some of the ideas I've come up with (some of which I thought would be fun for this, they just didn't fit in the plot I'd already thought up,) this will be Cal's theme in my head

Big thanks to 007Bistromath for being around to lend a hand whenever I screamed "OMG THIS ISN'T WORKING HELP." That happened more than I care to admit.
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An Urban Fantasy in Three Acts