The next morning, Mulder got up and showered, using Daniel's all-over body shampoo, shaved using Daniel's expensive shaving cream, and got into Daniel's clothes. He stood before the mirror, buttoning up the forest green silk shirt. His own wardrobe, the one Ethan had bought for him, was stowed in the suitcases, interspersed with Daniel's clothes.

When he was done, he just stared at himself in the mirror, and murmured, "Who the fuck are you?" If I drop dead of a heart attack right now, there are only about a half-dozen people in the world who will know that I am not Daniel Ballard. Two of them are Ballard and his lover.

Ethan, head to toe in cool black, came up behind him. He watched Mulder watching himself, then said, "What are ya thinkin', boyo?"

"I'm thinking that I'm an insurance scam waiting to happen. You sure a certain Irishman didn't take out a multi-million dollar policy on a certain Maryland ex-preppie, planning to fake something nasty and abscond?"

"Not the last I heard." He took Mulder's elbow. "C'mon, boyo. Time to check out."

Mulder sighed, and slipped on a pair of dark glasses. "Oh, all right, Con. I just wish we could have taken a later flight. You KNOW how jet lagged I get."

This is going to work. "I know, love. You'll have a nice nap on the plane before we land."

Downstairs, Ethan presented Connor Galbraith's credit card, and signed the receipt. The desk clerk mentioned what a pleasure it always was having them, and his eyes were bright and completely free of suspicion. He grinned appreciatively at the twenty the handsome Irishman slipped him, along with a wink. His tall companion, smacked the other guest lightly on the shoulder, and the clerk chuckled. That Mr. Ballard was nice enough, but he was a jealous one.

At the airport, they presented the tickets that had been on the hotel dresser, and were shown to first class. The stewardess was not quite smothering in her attentions, but spent more time than was necessary pointing out the various comfort features, explaining the champagne brunch that was available later on, and offering magazines, drinks, headphones... everything but her telephone number, and they might have had THAT if the other attendant hadn't bustled over and scolded her into getting to the other travelers.

The flight was uneventful. Both men took advantage of the champagne brunch. Mulder had flown often during his tenure with the FBI, but the coach accommodations he was used to were nothing like first class. Sipping the brut champagne, he reflected that it would be very easy to get used to this.

He took a nap later in the flight, so he was refreshed when they landed at Bogota in the afternoon. In the airport, he presented Daniel Ballard's passport, and it was stamped without a second glance. That's it. I've just committed fraud.

There were several men standing off to one side, holding cardboard placards with names written on them. One of them, a slender, handsome Latino in his very early twenties was holding one that said 'GALBRAITH'. He wasn't in much doubt as to who he was looking for, though. He was staring frankly at Fox and Ethan. Or rather, Connor and Daniel.

Connor was lifting their cases off the carousel, and Fox poked him gently. "Con, hon. I think someone wants us."

"I wouldn't be the least bit surprised, sweetheart. We're hot." Fox poked him again, then pointed. Connor turned his attention to the waiting man, and gave him an encouraging nod.

The man came forward, his manner deferential. "Senor Galbraith and Ballard?"

"That's us, laddie. But you're not Montana."

"Oh, no, senor! The padrone could not come himself, so he has sent me to greet you. I am Manuel."

"Of course you are," Mulder drawled. He turned to Ethan and said stiffly. "See? Doesn't even have enough courtesy to meet us himself."

"Danny, hush! Mr. Montana is a busy man. Things come up." Fox grunted pettishly. Damn. I do believe he has Daniel down

"Gentlemen, we have a suite reserved for you at our finest hotel." Manuel gestured for a porter, who began loading the cases on a cart. "It will be my pleasure to take you there, and Senor Montana will meet with you tomorrow. You will have time to rest and refresh yourselves."

Manuel's POV

The Irishman smiles at me. His smile is warm, but his green eyes are cold. "Oh, now, that's very thoughtful of ya, lad. But I think that Daniel and I will just have a bit of a taxi ride instead, if you'll give us the name of the hotel. Ya see, it's not that I don't trust ya," his eyes narrow. "but I don't know ya."

Good. I had told Olivero that anyone who had risen so quickly in our world would be unlikely to be trusting enough to just go with someone he did not know. In a way, this has been a small test, one of many that are to follow. Connor Galbraith has passed it handily. He has proved at least a decent level of caution.

I bow my head. "As you say, senor. A wise course of action. Would you mind, then, if I accompanied you? I can have an associate pick up the car later. Senor Montana would not like for me to abandon his guests." Galbraith looks at his companion questioningly.

Daniel Ballard has crossed his arms petulantly. Now he uses one fingertip to pull his sunglasses down his nose, and looks at me over the rims. He has the most extraordinary eyes I have seen in years. They look golden. No wonder Senor Galbraith is smitten with him. Even if he is spoiled. At last he says. "Oh, I suppose it's all right. He looks like a nice enough boy."

I drew myself up proudly. "Senor, I am a MAN." He smiles lazily. Perhaps he would have taken my remark more seriously if the top of my head was not even with his nose. I begin to see how Daniel Ballard draws others. It would be a great temptation to PROVE to him that you are a man, and not by beating him.

Daniel refuses to leave the terminal until a taxi is found and the luggage loaded. "Are you kidding, Con? In THAT heat? I'd melt into a little puddle on the sidewalk."

Senor Galbraith playfully pinches his hip. "Then I'd be there to lap ya up, Danny."

That is another bit of information confirmed. They are very playful with each other, these two. And they are not shy about expressing their affection in public, in words or acts.

Ballard snorts. "You vulgar man. Kiss me." They kiss, and I see the quick flicker of a tongue, though I cannot tell who is the aggressor.

We all three squeeze into the back seat of the taxi. I sit behind the driver, with Ballard beside me and Galbraith on his other side. Ballard sits back with a sigh as the taxi pulls away from the curb. "When will they invent something to keep all the cool air from leaking out when you open a car door? This is almost as bad as outside." He pulls a handkerchief from his pant's pocket, nudging me as he does so. "Oh, sorry, little man." Again the lazy smile. It makes me think about kissing him till he moans.

He takes Galbraith's chin in his hand and gently blots beads of sweat from his brow and jaw. Then he smiles at me. "You're awful sweaty, too. Would you like...?" He holds up the kerchief questioningly. I look at Galbraith, but he only raises an eyebrow. I nod.

His fingers are cool as he touches my chin. He pats my forehead, and my cheeks with the cloth. Then his hand moves down, and he slowly pats my throat. He is wearing his sunglasses, and I can't see his eyes. I want to, very much. His expression hasn't changed: there is still that small smile.

Galbraith says, "Danny, quit teasing the boy."

He sits back with a pout. "You're no fun."

Galbraith leans over him. "Forgive him, lad. He's a dreadful flirt. I'd have beaten him to death a long time ago if I thought he really meant it."

"Have I told you what an awful liar he is?" Ballard dries his own face, then his throat. I watch as he unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt and mops at the perspiration that glows on his chest. He is facing straight ahead, but somehow I know he is aware of my gaze.

"Danny." There is a hint of warning in Galbraith's voice.

Ballard grimaces, and re-buttons his shirt. "This shirt is going to be absolutely ruined, you know that, don't you? They're never the same after you sweat heavily in them."

"If that's a hint, yes, you can go shopping. Later." Ballard's smile becomes smug. Yes, he is spoiled. I can't help but wonder if he is worth it. I think he must be. Connor Galbraith is not so rich as my master, but he is well-to-do by the world's standards. He can afford to buy himself the best men and women to satisfy his every whim. He chooses to stay with this man, and treats him as an honored husband. That says much.

I know that my master cares for me... as much as he is capable of caring for any living being. But I do not delude myself by thinking that I am irreplaceable. If it suited his purposes, he would kill me. Perhaps he would mourn me for a few days, even as much as a few weeks. Then he would take someone else to his bed, and his life would go on. I know my worth in his eyes. I do all that I can to increase it.

My master is in the city, and nothing pressing keeps him away. It is simply that he does not wish to seem too eager. That would put him in the less powerful position, he feels. I do not doubt he is correct. Such men as my padrone and this Galbraith know that dealings in our world call for as much show and delicacy as any diplomatic relations between nations that could be allies... or foes.

Still, Montana does not want to be disrespectful, so he has sent an ambassador to welcome the visitors. I act in that capacity. I am to see to their every comfort, provide them with anything they might wish: liquor, drugs, women, men... myself.

The idea might have displeased me. It would not be the first time Olivero has used me as a whore to lever some concession from an interested party, male or female. This time it would be a pleasure to serve him in that manner. Both of these men are very beautiful, very hot. Their ease says that they know sex, and are comfortable with it. It would be enjoyable to service them.

Despite their mutual possessiveness, we know from our reports that Galbraith and Daniel occasionally take outside partners, almost always together. It is believed that any solo rendevous are know to the other partner, and approved. An 'open' relationship, yes, but a very NARROW opening. I do not doubt that if one showed interest in someone the other disapproved of, there would be fireworks. Neither Southerners, nor the Irish, are well known for their tolerance of unfaithfulness in their mates.

"If you wish, senors, I can show you a few of the sights in Bogota this afternoon."

Daniel again peers over his glasses at me. "Y'all DO have clubs here, right?"

"Of course, senor. Very fine clubs, of all kinds. My padrone wishes to invite you to one that he owns tomorrow night, as his special guests."

"That'll be fine, boyo. Danny, there'll be no clubbing for you tonight. You'll be going to bed early. I won't be dealing with you growling like a bear all day tomorrow."

"Connor, really!"

"You do, and you know it. You get jet lagged, and if you don't sleep, you try to make up for it with caffeine, and that makes ya as snappish as a bear trap."

Daniel leans toward me confidentially. "Not only does he lie, he exaggerates outrageously."

"Danny," Connor says quietly. "Darlin', it isn't that I mind ya flirtin' with the boy. But we don't know what his situation is. He may have a friend who'd object. Strongly."

"Oh." Ballard turns those bright eyes back on me. "So, DO you have a special friend, Manuel?"

There was a time when such a question might have made me blush. It was not easy for me to accept the fact that I found the mouths and asses of men more attractive than the pussies of women. Our culture does not much respect one who lusts after his own kind.

If you are a man who loves men, you must be very strong, or you are a victim. I have chosen not to be a victim. Though some would look at what passes between my master and myself, and think that I lie. But this is from choice, it is not forced upon me. I submit, but because I choose to.

I answer him honestly. "Yes. I belong to Senor Montana." I smile. "But he shares."