Rating: PG-13
Codes: C/P. Davis, OCs
Category: Romance
Summary: Max's future is on the line

Getting the marinated steaks from the fridge, Paul looked out the window to the back yard where Sam was lighting the gas grill.  She was dressed in a tight t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and Paul stopped what he was doing to admire the view. A hot throb for the promise of what the night held settled low in his groin as he watched Sam bend over to check the burners.

The shrill ring of the telephone brought him back to the present, Paul reached for the phone cursing mildly.  He hoped to hell it wasn't work, or, as much as he loved them, his family; Sam was up for a long weekend and the only thing he wanted to do involved just the two of them.

"Hello?" he answered with a touch of impatience, his eyes going to Sam's ass as she brushed her hands off on the seat of her shorts.  The naughty thoughts that had sprung up were quickly forgotten, however, as the familiar, and unwelcome, voice on the other end turned the hot throb in his belly to a cold shot of lead.

~~~~~

"Paul?  I think the grill's ready... "  Coming into the miniscule kitchen from the backyard, Sam found Paul staring at the phone receiver in his and like he had no idea how it had gotten there.  

"Paul?  What's wrong?"  Sam slowly moved to his side, worried at his lack of response, wondering what could have happened.  "Paul?"

Reaching out, she touched his shoulder, causing him to look up at her, startled.  His green eyes were wary, and his body tense.  Carefully Sam took the phone from him and replaced it in the cradle.  Holding his hands in hers, she noticed they were cold even though the townhouse was warm.

"That was Lily," Paul said suddenly.  "She wants to talk about Max."

Sam's heart constricted, she knew Paul had been both dreading and awaiting the day when his ex-fiancée would finally decide if she wanted to keep the little Australian Terrier or not.  "When?"

"Tomorrow morning, early."  Giving Sam an apologetic smile, he continued.  "She just basically told me she was coming over.  She didn't give me a chance to say no."  Paul sighed, running a hand through his hair.  "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Sam assured him, running a hand up his arm and squeezing gently.

Paul pulled her into a crushing hug, burying his face into her shoulder.  "He's like my kid.  What if she won't let me see him any more?"

Unsure what to say, Sam comforted him the best she could.

~~~~~

Late that night, Paul lay with his eyes wide open, staring at the picture of Max on his dresser as Sam slept in his arms.  The buzz of desire he had whenever Sam was around was tainted by the nervous energy the threat of Lily taking Max away caused.

He had tried to make love to Sam in the kitchen against the counter after dinner, pushing down her shorts and panties, leaving his jeans unbuttoned around his hips.  Sam had been surprised, and willing, but although Paul's spirit was wiling, the flesh wasn't.  Giving him a reassuring kiss, Sam only made Paul feel worse.

Halfway through the movie they rented from Blockbuster he laid her down on the couch and slowly stripped her.  Paul kissed his way down her stomach, parting her legs reverently and nipping and sucking his way up her inner thighs.  He brought her to orgasm after orgasm, drinking her in until Sam had to push him away, spent.  She had crawled into his lap then, tugging at his belt.  Paul desperately wanted her, but again, he couldn't.

Going to bed after the movie, he didn't even try, just wrapping his arms around Sam and listening to her fall asleep, roundly cursing his ex-fiancée and the hold she still had on him.

Finally, about one am, he fell into a fitful sleep, unwanted dreams of Lily coming to him.

* * * * *

Paul walked up the three steps to the Georgetown Brownstone, his arms and his mind both full. In the paper bag he had a bottle of Chardonnay and a cellophane tube of roses, courtesy of the little stand outside the north side of the Pentagon. He'd picked them up on his way out, hoping they'd buffer what he knew was coming and like his intentions, the roses were slightly chilled. The wine was for afterwards, and he figured one bottle would be enough to take the edge off the mutual bitterness.

He hated this ongoing cycle with Lily even when he could see it coming, even when he could set his watch by the inevitability of it all. The fight. The accusations. The moment when she'd decide it was over and wanted either a hard lay or a cooling off period neither of which sat well with him anymore. After a year of this emotional rollercoaster, the ups and downs of loving Lily Ibarra were grating on Paul and yet even as he reached her door he felt his pulse jump. He fumbled for his key and opened the door stepping in quietly.

A clatter of toenails on hardwood announced Max's delighted rush, and Paul grinned, setting the bag on the hall table. Squatting down he ran his hands over the dog's silky coat, fending off enthusiastic licks.

"Hey pal, glad to see someone in a good mood around here—" he fondled Max's ears and even as he stroked the dog's back he found the raveled cord trailing from his collar to the floor. Paul frowned, a rush of anger flooding him.

Damn it, she'd tied him out back again! Max had obviously chewed through the cord to get free and must have slipped in through the patio. Paul clenched his fingers and began to work the knot out of Max's collar, a stream of whispered invective leaking out of him; for a moment no one at Cheyenne Mountain would have recognized the normally cool and controlled Paul Davis.

"—Bitch thinks she DOING? There's no Goddamn shade in the yard, you can barely reach the water bowl and if it's such a fucking hassle to have a dog why does she fight me about having you at MY place, huh? Of course you're going to crap on the carpet if she never walks you, I know—" Paul commiserated with Max, who wagged his tail all the harder and sighed happily. Paul shot a baleful look at the stairs as was about to yell up them when he heard a thump.

He blinked. It was a familiar thump, although not a sound he remembered from recently. Stunned, he waited a moment, holding Max in his arms them began walking slowly towards the staircase. The thump came again, louder, echoing down the stairs.

Paul stood, swaying a little, listening to the headboard of the bed upstairs begin a rhythm against the wall of the master bedroom. The recognizable sound rattled down to the first floor of the townhouse and into his brain, bringing back memories of wilder sweeter nights, of passion now slowly being poisoned as the beat went on. Paul set Max down. He closed his eyes, accepting that although there was pain, it wasn't sharp. Far from it—the ache was dull and bitter.

Slowly, he went to the kitchen and got the corkscrew, then deliberately set out three wineglasses. He walked to the foot of the stairs, opened the chardonnay and let the pop of the cork echo up to the second floor. There was a sudden creak and a murmur of voices, but Paul didn't bother to wait. He headed back to the glasses and poured them. Max circled around his legs, and Paul smiled at him.

Eventually the soft sound of light footsteps down the stairs grew louder and Paul glanced through the kitchen doorway to see Lily lounging there in her silk kimono. She looked mussy and defiant, and perfectly annoyed.

"You're home early," came her accusation. He managed a dour look.

"No, you're screwing late. Want me to close my eyes so whoever it is can sneak by?"

"Stop it, Paul. There's no need to be a sarcastic shit about this. You MUST have known how things are."

He did. Lily was many things, but subtle wasn't one of them and never had been. In a wine-flavored hindsight Paul could now recall the clues leading to today: the odd phone messages, the new lingerie, the late night hours. He supposed if he'd come right out and asked she would have told him, but he hadn't and now there was some stranger skulking around upstairs.

Or was there?

Paul set his glass down and looked at his fiancee, who had picked hers up and was draining it.

"Since we're toasting our official break-up, I'd like to call down the guest of dishonor to join us—who's up there, Lil? Just who's been sleeping in my bed?"

She laughed almost tenderly and twisted the stem of the wineglass in her fingers.

"Well, since he's going to have to come down sometime—it's David Van Deering."

Paul winced.

"Jesus! Lily, you're fucking my CIA contact? Beautiful, this is JUST what I need! My ex-fiancee, the security clearance groupie that she is working her way up the damn code ladder because clandestine intelligence work gets her HOT." He spat out bitterly. Lily flushed, looking around for something to change the direction of the conversation and conveniently Max whined at the sound of Paul's anger. Lily focused on the dog.

"God damn it Paul you let him IN? He's been peeing by the stereo again."

"Of course he does—you never walk the poor beast, what with your full schedule of stalking intelligence operatives and kissing political ass, Lil—and don't try to lie, you tied him up out back again."

Paul knew his voice was louder than it should have been, but his frustration and hurt were pushing the words out now and he didn't want to stop them. Lily scowled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wasn't going to leave him there, Paul you know I wouldn't hurt him—"

"—As opposed to ME, yeah. Might as well tie ME out back along side him. Hell go the whole nine yards and have me neutered as well while you're at it—"

"Stop it! In case you hadn't noticed, you haven't been exactly making an effort in this relationship lately, Paul Davis! I can count on one hand the number of times we've had an evening together since you've been assigned to the JCS office. Between the paperwork and the TDYs it's  amazing you even remembered my birthday."

Paul blanched, swinging a guilty gaze to the calendar on the refrigerator. The date was in red, circled—three days past. Lily followed his look and nodded angrily.

"Yeah, thanks for the lovely time. You were in Colorado so I took it on myself to go out dancing. Look Paul. Let's face facts—this just isn't working, for either of us."

"Yes I know," Paul sighed. He glanced at Lily's left hand, looking at the half carat diamond twinkling there; Lily glanced down as well.

"I suppose giving it back would be the right thing to do—" she couldn't quite hide the sulk in her voice, and the sound of it snapped the last thread of patience in Paul. He straightened up, a grim smile on his face.

"Tell you what, Lil—you keep the rock, and I'll take Max. Fair enough?"

Lily hissed. Paul saw the struggle within her and for a moment pitied the choice.  He knew Lily loved the dog, despite her cavalier care of him sometimes, but it hadn't been a cheap ring either—

"Touche, Paul—" she growled. Before he could react, they both heard the heavy tread of feet down the stairs. Paul poured the third glass of wine as Dave Van Deering's sheepish face appeared around the kitchen doorway.

"Paul, look, this isn't—"

"—It's exactly what it looks like. You're sleeping with my fiancee. Here—" Paul shoved a glass at the bare-chested man and sighed, refilling his own glass. Dazed, Dave looked from the glass in his hand to the woman standing next to him. Lily shrugged.

"We just broke off the engagement," she offered by way of explanation. Dave brightened and drank his glass. Paul looked at Lily.

"So what's it going to be? Diamond or dog?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking—do I have to decide at this moment?"

Paul wanted to push the issue, badly, but feared a spite backlash in which Lily would keep Max. He had no use for an engagement ring, but someone to come home to, even if it was a four-legged one instead of a two-legged one would be a hell of a lot better than living alone again. Paul shook his head.

"No. I can wait a week or two. So—"

"So no hard feelings, okay? We WERE good, Paul. When we worked at it."

She shot him a look through lowered lashes and Paul knew exactly what she was referring to as the heat raced through his stomach straight to his balls. Yeah. Lily had her talents and he'd be missing those a few nights in the future, no damn doubt of that. She'd shown him a game or two he'd never forget, and for that alone Paul didn't know whether to bless or curse her.

Mockingly he raised his glass in a toast; she took it for the compliment it was. Dave merely looked confused.

"So you're cool with me doing her?"

"Dave, she's a free agent, okay? Lily and I are officially unaffianced."

"Oh right. Pretty civilized of all of us, really. Being mature about it all—"

"Do up your fly, Romeo—" Paul muttered as he set his glass down on the counter and rubbed his chin. Dave flushed; unkindly, Lily laughed. She moved closer to Paul adding,

"Dave honey, why don't you go back upstairs and I'll be there in a minute. I need to talk to Paul for a moment."

"But—"

"I've got some menus under the phone up there—we'll order something delivered, okay?"

Obediently Dave lumbered up the stairs shooting anxious little glances back. Paul waited until he was out of earshot and looked at Lily.

"Who else?"

She didn't even try to pretend to misunderstand, but she did pinken a little. Lily bit her lip.

"Paul—"

"Lily. I have a right to know. I don't care diddly fuck about who or how many, but if I end up with AIDS---" he tried to look serious but his expression twisted into a mocking laugh, "---my MOTHER will eviscerate you."

Lily rolled her eyes and brushed her hair from her eyes.

"You'd find out soon enough. Stratton."

Paul drew in a surprised breath.

"The congressman? Wait, of course—he's on Homeland Security and that's got to be quite the ultimate pantymelter for you. Congratulations babe, you may have landed yourself a 5C after all."

"Paul you're such a prick!" Lily hissed. He gave her a mocking smile and slowly unhooked her house key from his key ring, setting it on the counter between them.

"No, not a prick, just a fool. I'm taking Max with me for tonight, until we get custody all worked out."

He bent down and scooped up the dog, pushing past Lily, his chest light and tight at the same time.

* * * * *

The next morning, earlier than Paul would have expected, the solid sound of an American built luxury car door closing came through the open windows; moving the curtains aside slightly Sam saw Lily Ibarra get out of the black town car, a chauffeur waiting by the side with a small pet carrier.

Opening the carrier Lily drew out a familiar small tan and black wiggling body: Max.  Sam pulled away from the window, back through the dining room to the kitchen where Paul was leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee.

"She here?" he asked the mug.

The bell rendered the question moot, Paul's hand tightening around the handle before placing the mug down on the granite counter top with a snap.  Heaving himself up, he walked unhurriedly to the door as the bell pealed out again.  Sam watched him with sympathy, the sooner he let Lily in the sooner he figured Max would be gone.

The murmur of voices drew Sam into the living room where a tight-lipped Lily was facing down Paul, disbelief and incredulity showing plainly on his face.

"So you're giving him up, just like that?  Because he says so?"

Sam could see the tense set of Paul's shoulders, could feel the anger radiating from him across the room.  She frowned, thinking.  Who was 'he'?

"It's more complicated than that Paul."  Lily clutched Max tighter, the little dog licking her face, his mistress not attempting to stop him for once.  Anything else she would have said was cut off as the chauffer came into the house, his arms filled with Max's belongings.

"I'll be right out, Bowden," Lily tossed at the young man.  He nodded and touched the cap, leaving them as silently as he came.  

"Who's going to take care of him when you're out of town?"

Sam noticed Lily kept her eyes on Max, not looking at Paul.

"Why do you care?"  Paul's tone was low and harsh.  

"Dammit, Paul, I don't have to let you have him!  I can find someone else."

Coming to stand next to Paul, Sam placed her hand on his arm, feeling the bunched muscles under his skin.  The heated retort died on his lips and Sam sensed him relax minutely.

"The Mitchells next door offered to take him whenever I wasn't here."

"They the ones with the little girl?"

Flashing a tight smile, Paul nodded.  "Two girls now."

Nodding back, Lily scratched Max behind the ears as he sat in her arms, looking back and forth between her and Paul. The little dog whined, the tension between his mistress and master thick. Blinking rapidly, Lily thrust Max into Paul's arms.

"I have to go. We're leaving for Augusta in a couple hours." Wiping her fingers over her wet cheek, not looking at either Max or Paul, Lily turned and almost ran for the door.

"Lily... " Paul's heart sank as he watched her depart. He knew how much the dog meant to her, and while their break up had been bad, he honestly didn't wish any ill will toward his former fiancée.

Pausing, Lily half turned. "Don't. Don't say something you don't mean." A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Goodbye, Max."

Paul and Max stood in the middle of his living room like driftwood tossed up by a storm as Lily walked out of their lives. Max whined again, and Paul, recognizing the sound, took him out the kitchen door and let him loose in the back yard.

Sam followed the pair, waiting with Paul as Max visited his corner and took care of business, then raced around the tiny postage stamp patch of grass, threatening the squirrel that lived in the maple and snuffling around for chipmunks.

"What happened?" Sam finally asked in the silence. She was about to repeat herself when Paul finally spoke.

"Stratton popped the question and is making her get rid of him. Oh, he gave perfectly rational reasons; they'll be traveling so much, the house isn't dog proof, etc., but from what I know of the man it's probably a control issue. Lily loves Max, and he's a constant reminder of a past relationship."

Coming up behind him, Sam wrapped her arms around Paul and laid her head on his shoulder. He hugged her arms to him, sighing.

"I wonder what she did with the diamond though."

~~~~~

The morning sun slanted through the car window as the sleek black automobile traveled up Jefferson Davis Highway toward National Airport. Lily Ibarra, soon to be Stratton, finished repairing the streaks the tears had left in her make up and shut the compact lid with a snap, placing it back into her Coach handbag. She looked unseeing out the window as she went to join her future husband, the sunlight glinting off a half-carat diamond pendent hanging from her slim throat.