Hi!

I'm not even going to think about how late this is. Let's just say it's up there with my worst update schedule ever. And I'm sorry! So sorry!

Enjoy!

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Mac had always been one to rush things. He hated waiting, hated not knowing. It was agonizing- but now, now he couldn't bear to do anything but wait. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, exactly, what he wanted to see happen, but he was willing to wait anything out, at this point. It was a lot easier than doing anything, that was for sure.

He'd walked into the lodge, seen Viggo in the front room, and walked right back out, intent on waiting longer instead of facing the Swede at that moment. Instead, he'd gone looking for Nate.

Mac found the other boarder at the ice rink, where Nate seemed to spend a good majority of his free time, whenever Johan wasn't at the lodge with him. The fact that Mac knew this pinged him with that haunting self-consciousness he always had, worry he was just annoying Nate, because maybe, Nate didn't want the brother he'd never had the way Mac did. Maybe he'd been perfectly happy without that. Mac shoved those thoughts aside as he rounded the rink, spotting Nate talking to the goalie over the boards around the ice. Mac slowed his pace as he neared, stopped out of sight cautiously. "I missed the first period," Nate was saying, "how was it?"

"Wasn't even part of the same game," the goalie said sadly, "it went great."

"Figures I'd miss the good one, right?" Nate smiled, "you gotta invite someone that doesn't always come late."

"Yeah, well," Johan shrugged a shoulder, "y'know. You do show up," he added, smiling. "And seeing as you can't play, I'm guessing it's not for hockey lessons. You'll do."

"I... I probably should talk to you about it all. I've been meaning to." Nate was suddenly more serious, and Mac wondered then if he should leave.

"Never known you not to talk," Johan said, leaning on the boards. Mac ducked back behind the tree, safe distance away. The small crowd of spectators was starting to wander away, making it easier to overhear; Mac wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing. "What is it?"

"Well..." Nate was studying his gloves. Mac sensed he was watching something heavily personal, but was scared to move and draw attention to himself and away from them. Nate was quiet, and Mac wondered if he knew the way Johan was looking at him.

He realized it then, with a stabbing suddenness, and felt unrelenting sympathy, so much that he nearly ran in his determination to leave. As he trudged through the snow, he heard someone hissing his name, and then Allegra nearly pounced on him.

"What was that about?"

"You were spyin' on him?" Mac asked.

"I was looking for Nate, wanted to borrow his M-comm. What was going on, you think?"

"I'unno," Mac shrugged, and she barely noticed.

"They never said anything, anyways. Got interrupted."

Mac breathed a sigh of relief at that, sympathy for the goalie he barely knew, who'd been about to receive the words Mac himself dreaded. What will you do, he wanted to ask the goalie, if that's what he'll say?

"I hope it wasn't anything bad. Nate looked awful serious."

Later, Mac was playing video games with Griff, losing badly because his head was elsewhere, so detached he didn't even mind the losses.

"Got you again!" Griff cheered, as Mac's character slumped to the ground onscreen. Mac frowned, as the game restarted. He wasn't entirely sure he still liked the ability of the handheld game to connect to others and allow them to play together. All he'd done so far on the wifi connection was lose.

"You've lost your touch, mate," Moby contributed cheerily; he was playing a racing game on the TV screen, sprawled on the couch, taking up all the space but the corner Viggo was tucked into. Before Mac could find a reply, someone knocked on the lodge front door. "I'm not gettin' it. It's open, right?"

"Zoe locked it to keep Psymon out," Viggo stated. He changed the TV channel to a documentary on lions, then to a sci-fi movie with a ten-legged something rampaging through a forest before Moby snatched the remote back and returned it to his game.

"But he uses the windows." Moby pointed out.

"Which is why he's inside now."

Knocking again, softly.

"But she locked the windows. Taped 'em shut, I mean."

"Only the downstairs ones." Viggo shrugged.

"So... how...?"

"Don't underestimate the guy. He's scary creative."

"C'mon, mate, you think he seriously got up to the second floor?"

"Didn't you see the rope from the roof?"

"I figured- I don't know, I just didn't think he'd be scaling the bloody lodge..."

There was silence for ten minutes, until there was more insistent knocking on the door.

"They haven't gone yet?" Viggo asked.

"Mate, I am not gettin' up."

"Well, me neither," Viggo said, and Mac tossed down his controller and went to answer the door. Johan was shivering on the doorstep, offered half a smile.

"Nate around?" he asked, and Mac nodded, beckoned him inside.

"Out back, c'mon." He shut the door; Moby was leaning over the back of the couch, and waved at Johan.

"Sorry 'bout the wait outside," he said, as there was a crash from upstairs. Psymon appeared in the stairway.

"I'd be careful walking in our room," he tossed over to Moby, grinning, "glass and all." Moby groaned loudly, dropping his head into his hands.

"Can't you use the door? Like a normal person?" Psymon just stared at him.

"No," he said simply, then looked at Johan. "You're that hockey guy that follows Nate around." Johan blinked, clearly taken aback by the description.

"Uh... yeah." He was almost blushing.

"Canadian, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Now, I have a question," Psymon said conversationally, leaning on the armchair, "I never learned all this Canadian stuff, so I'm curious. Canadians are supposed to be all nice and non-confrontational, yeah?" Johan nodded slowly. "So, if I came over and punched you, would you hit me back?"

"Uh..." The look on Johan's face was one of blunt surprise, "please don't."

"So you're saying you wouldn't."

"I... might."

"Can I try it? To get a definite answer?"

"...No." Johan turned to Mac for a moment, gaze quickly returning to Psymon, "Can't we go find Nate now?" he was almost pleading. As Mac led him from the room, he heard Psymon ask Moby if the same rules applied to what Psymon called 'you-mate-saying-people,' and then there was the distinct sound of furniture being knocked over. "No offence, but the people here are sorta strange..." Johan said, following Mac out the kitchen back door, to the deck.

"Tell me 'bout it, man. I live here." Mac let the door slam shut behind them. "What are they doin'...?" The clearing was surrounded by sky-high pines, laden with snow. Brodi was sitting high in the tree, binoculars in hand.

"You're missing this," he called down, "what a beautiful bird!"

"I'm not breaking my neck for a bird..." Nate was muttering, standing in the snow, as Kaori tried to climb up the tree.

"Brodi-san, how did you climb so fast?" she reached for the next branch. Mac cut a glance at the goalie. Johan was watching Nate, blue eyes reflecting the sort of longing he knew Nate had never seen.

"Nate!" Mac shouted, and he noticed that the second Nate looked over, Johan had hidden that look, so effectively Mac would have never known it was there. It was like an art, all that deception. Thinking of it as deception, though, made Mac wonder whether Nate had some sort of right to know. Nate crossed the snow, abandoning the duo hell-bent on seeing a bird.

"Hey," he stepped onto the deck, curious gaze going to Johan, "what's up?"

"Dying to know what you were going to say," the goalie said, and Mac was silent even though he wanted to stop him, "wanna go grab lunch and finish?" Maybe Mac had imagined the way Nate went a little still, and maybe he'd imagined the way Johan's voice had quivered, and maybe it was better if he didn't think about it at all. He retreated back inside as they left, and collapsed on the now-vacant couch.

Mac nearly screamed when Allegra pounced him from behind.

"You gotta stop doin' that!" he yelped, ducking away. She smirked, climbing onto the couch next to him.

"I think I know what they were talking about" she leaned in to whisper, and Mac was silent. "I mean, I've never seen Nate look so serious..."

"Care 'ta share?" he grumbled.

"I think Nate's secretly dating Johan's sister and has to tell him because they're gonna elope," She whispered, and Mac stared, "because they discovered that aliens are living in Atlantis, and they have to go undercover."

"Uh...huh..."

"Or," she went on, "maybe Nate realized Johan's secretly hating him."

"Say what?" he choked, and Allegra clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shhh, won't you? Am I right, or am I right? He's an assassin assigned to kill Nate. He's telling Nate to save his life."

"You're wrong," Mac whispered back fiercely when she removed her hand, "Man, Allegera, any idiot could tell that Nate's gonna tell Johan he knows he's-" he cut off sharply, and she looked annoyed.

"Well?"

"Nothing," Mac mumbled, "'s not my deal. Ask him if ya wanna know so bad."

"I won't tell, promise," she said, "I'm just worried about 'em is all. Please?" She said, as he considered it, "C'mon. I won't tell."

"I'm not sure what it is." Mac said, shaking his head, "but I think it's gotta do with... their... uh... relationship."

"They're still friends, aren't they?"

"I'unno," Mac said absently, "hope so."

Mac had never known it, but he hated parallels just as much as he hated waiting around. When things mirrored his own life too closely, it felt like he was doomed to the same fate. If he was right, if he was unfortunate enough to be right, then the example that had been set wasn't good, and the outlook for him was worse.

If what might be happening was any preview for what was to come for him, Mac had more to dread than he'd imagined.

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Later that evening, Nate was sitting in the kitchen, staring down at his phone on the table. It had yet to ring. He doubted it ever would, doubted even more that he'd be using it to call.

Mac was poking through the refrigerator, a quiet din coming from his headphones. He was leaning into the refrigerator, reaching for something way in the back. When Elise walked into the kitchen, Nate flinched, but when she pulled the refrigerator door open wider, Mac jumped and cracked his head on the shelf.

"You're a basket case," Elise observed, as Mac remembered how to breathe evenly. "Freaked out about something?" she said, and Nate was glad she wasn't talking to him.

"No," he said defensively, and she shrugged. Nate breathed a sigh of relief- maybe she wasn't here for him- only to flinch when he heard her voice again.

"What's with you?" she was saying

"Nothing." Nate said, flat and expressionless, because he couldn't really bring himself to think about her, not now..

"You suck at lying."

Mac leaned around the door to watch them; Nate inwardly cringed. Mac followed him around like a little brother, and somehow, that had turned into Nate striving not to be something of a bad example for Mac. It was stupid, he knew- Mac wasn't some impressionable little kid, he was past that age, long past it, but still. Nate hated screwing up in front of the kid.

"So?" Nate squared his shoulders, "speaking of lying, care to tell me why you hate me now?"

"Not really."

"She read an article." Zoe interrupted, looking in at them from the other room, making Elise glare, "said you were in love with her."

"With you?" Nate said, a dull sort of shock in his voice, "No. I'm not." He probably should have put something into that- apology, guilt, whatever, but he couldn't. Elise went pink and mumbled something about the media lying before dragging Zoe out of the kitchen.

"She thinks I'm in love with her," he shook his head, frowning, "man, I can't do anything right. Nothing at all," he muttered under his breath, reaching for his phone again. All he did, though, was stare at its blank screen.

Johan wasn't going to call him. That much was obvious. Nate would be lucky to go back home and find that Johan hadn't moved out of the apartment across the hall. Hell, Nate couldn't even tell himself Johan was going to stay in the city. Not after the way he'd looked at Nate. Not after the way Nate had just- just said it, as if it meant nothing to him, as if he'd always known and had been using it and just gotten tired of the whole thing.

It was still echoing in his mind, and he didn't know if he hoped it would someday leave him, or if he wanted to hang onto the memory, because it was doubtlessly the last thing Johan would ever say to him. Wasn't much of a last memory.

He'd gone all pale, all horrified and shocked, backed up a few steps. For a moment, Nate had been worried he'd been wrong, but after that- being right looked worse. He'd put off saying it all afternoon, and it had been when Johan was dropping him off back here that he'd realized he hadn't said anything at all, and maybe he'd never get to again. After all, Johan had come asking to know. He'd just gotten out of the car- truck, Johan always said smugly, and God, he was such a narcissist sometimes and never seriously, it was hilarious, but it was a freakin' SUV- to check something with the trunk. And then Nate had just come out and said it- no warning, nothing, and Johan hated surprises. Nate had always known that. But he'd done it anyways, and Johan- Nate hated himself, he really did.

"I- fuck, Nate, I- you weren't-" steps backward in the snow, left footprints, and if anyone came along later and saw them, it'd look like someone had approached someone else, not staggered away, retreating, fleeing. Maybe Nate hated that most of all- it looked like taking steps forward, but it was back, just back. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I never meant to," and when he'd looked away, Nate knew it was because there were tears welled in those blue eyes. Nate had walked away then, because Johan was going to leave anyways, and letting him go was the last thing Nate could give him.

His phone rang once, just once, and then stopped.

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Hope everyone liked that :)

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Love ya,

Sunshine