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Debtor

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Debtor

by Gail
(gem225@gmail.com)

Crossover between The Burning Zone and JAG

Daniel Cassian/Clark Palmer

Rating: adult

Dr. Daniel Cassian finds debts require payment in
strange ways.

Disclaimer: Dr. Daniel Cassian and Edward Marcase and all other
Burning Zone characters that show up in this story belong to
Universal Television, Universal City Studios, and UPN, and
probably others, but not to me. Clark Palmer belongs to
Belisarius Productions and CBS, but they're really not nice to
him. I mean no harm by this story and no offense.

Please do not archive this story without asking
me first.
It's more than likely
that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.

Thanks to Alexandra, who came up with this
pairing in a message and said she was sure it wouldn't be that
hard to write. She was going to write them, but that isn't going
to happen now, and I think she'd want me to. For Page, who keeps
telling me somebody's got to slash 'that top of a doctor on that
weird show, you know the one, can't remember his name'. *g* For
Peja as well, since her BurningZoneFic list seriously needs a
story. Thanks to Tinnean, who's always up for another strange
pairing from me.

Thanks to Elizabeth for the beta, and to Scarlet and Tinnean for
their support.

*****

Dr. Daniel Cassian inspected the wound in silence. He didn't
waste his breath telling his patient he should go to a hospital.
If Palmer had wanted a hospital, he would have gone to one, but
instead he'd chosen to come to Cassian for treatment. It would do
for some of the repayment of the debt he owned Palmer. He would
clean and treat the wound and be done with it.

"Will I be able to play the violin again, doc?"

Cassian opened a bottle of antiseptic and moistened some gauze,
then answered as he pressed the gauze to Palmer's shoulder. "Only
if you could before."

"Heard that one, huh?" Palmer chuckled, but Cassian's trained ear
heard strain in it.

"A few times." Cassian discarded that piece of gauze and prepared
another one. The wound was covered with caked-on blood. "How long
since you were shot?" Palmer didn't answer for a moment, and
Cassian stopped swabbing and looked up, finding pain in Palmer's
eyes. "Is the pain bad?"

Palmer grinned at that. "Nothing I can't handle."

"How long ago were you injured?"

"The shooting was early this morning. I figured it was safe
enough to come here after dark."

Not smart of Palmer to have waited until one in the morning, but
Cassian didn't say anything. Palmer probably knew that, and like
most people, he wouldn't appreciate a lecture. He went back to
cleaning the wound, glancing up at Palmer every so often, getting
a smile each time, and noting the spread of sweat on his
forehead. Palmer was in pain, but of course he wouldn't admit it
or ask for a painkiller, and Cassian was just annoyed enough he'd
been woken not to insist. Palmer was an enigma.

As he discarded yet another piece of gauze and readied another,
he reflected on what he knew of Clark Palmer. Agent of the
Defense Security Division, a covert agency known for their
ruthlessness in dealing with their enemies and effectiveness in
carrying out their orders. The latter was the main reason they
were still in operation. They had powerful backing and did what
it took to keep that backing.

Palmer had tipped them off six months ago to a group smuggling in
mutated pneumonia bacilli, then worked with them to find and stop
the group before they had a chance to do anything serious. He'd
taken orders readily and cheerfully, something at one point
Cassian had thrown up to Marcase, who'd ignored it, as usual, and
was respectful to the other members of the team and, to some,
friendly. Kim had even asked if there was any chance of Palmer
being assigned permanently to them, not to replace Michael, she'd
added hastily when Cassian looked at her quizzically, but to help
him. Palmer had been there with them, and had smiled and said he
was sorry, but this was a one-time thing. Cassian was fine with
that. He had the team he wanted. Palmer had been a good person to
assist on that one venture, but he had an air of unpredictability
and danger that Cassian knew would not be good for the team over
time. Palmer liked running things. That much was quite clear to
Cassian.

Palmer had been the one to find the leader of the group, and the
one to kill him. Cassian had arrived too late, and when he asked
Palmer what the hell he'd done that for, Palmer had shrugged as
he put his gun away and told him the man had pulled a gun on him.
Cassian had seen no gun, but bit back the sarcastic reply he
wanted to make after searching Palmer's cool eyes. For whatever
reason, Palmer had decided to kill that man, and nothing Cassian
could say would bring him back. He'd echoed Palmer's story when
he'd updated the team and saw Palmer leave with relief and hoped
that would be the end of it.

And it had been, until now. Until Palmer had shown up at his door
with an ice-pale face and a bloodied, tattered shirt and said,
"You owe me, Cassian, and I'm here to collect."

Cassian readied another piece of gauze and wondered how much it
was going to take to pay off the debt.

*****

Palmer's eyes were closed by the time Cassian finished dressing
his shoulder, and Cassian knew that Palmer was in no condition to
travel. He settled Palmer on his living-room couch, got him some
water, and told him to call if he needed anything. Palmer gave
him a pale imitation of his usual grin and muttered something
about needing a drink and he'd be fine, then his eyes closed
again, and Cassian left him to sleep. He'd check on Palmer
through the rest of the night a few times, but he'd take naps in
between checks. Every doctor worth his diploma could do that.

*****

He had to get work done. He knew that, but then Edward Marcase
barged into his office without even a knock. Cassian opened his
mouth to tell him to go away, but he wasn't at his desk now, he
was on the couch, and Edward was sitting next to him.

"You've got to relax, Cassian. Life is fun." His hand came to
rest on Cassian's thigh. "Or it can be if you let it. Let me show
you."

Cassian knew he should stand and end this encounter - Edward was
his colleague, and having sex with him would be unprofessional
and possibly ruin their working relationship - but he couldn't
seem to move. Then Edward leaned over and fastened his lips on
Cassian's neck as his hands found Cassian's nipples, since
somehow his clothes were gone, as were Edward's, and Cassian knew
that Edward would do more and do it happily, and he knew he
wanted Edward to do more -

Cassian shuddered and wrenched open his eyes. He had to stop
dreaming about Edward.

But the dream didn't seem to be over. There was still a hand on
his right nipple, and a hot and skilled mouth on his neck, and a
warm, lean body pressed up against his. Palmer. What the hell was
Palmer doing? He should be sleeping.

"Palmer." He tried to pull away, but Palmer's arms snaked around
him and held him close. "Palmer. Go back to bed."

Palmer laughed, then sucked on Cassian's neck again. When he
lifted his head, Cassian saw his eyes gleaming. "Hot dream you
were having. I heard you moaning all the way out in the living
room." One of Palmer's hands found Cassian's cock and squeezed.
"Nice. Wish that were for me."

The DSD used sex as a weapon, Cassian reminded himself. They were
experts at sex. Neither of those thoughts helped too much. He
reached down and closed his hand over Palmer's, then pulled it
off and moved away. Palmer stayed where he was, too-bright eyes
tracking Cassian's every move.

"Get out of my room and go back to the couch."

"Come on, Cassian, you want sex. I'm here. Why not?" Palmer
traced his lips with his tongue and slid his hand down to his
cock and stroked it as Cassian watched from up against the
headboard. "I can take it. Do you like fucking or being fucked?
I'd guess fucking." Palmer's voice dropped to a husky murmur.
"Sounds good to me. It's been a while since anyone who knew what
he was doing fucked me good and hard, and I've wanted you since I
worked with you."

Cassian discounted that as a probable lie. He was sure Palmer had
wanted Kim, and he'd given Marcase some looks that Cassian had
suspected were come-ons, but that was it. "So you got yourself
shot, lost a fair amount of blood, and endangered your health, so
that you could invade my bed in the middle of the night? There
are easier ways to communicate your interest."

"You're a hard man to get to, Daniel Cassian. And I knew I had
competition. Lots of it, and right there with you every day."

Did he mean Edward? Or Michael? Either way, he was wrong, but
Cassian didn't feel a need to enlighten him. "You weren't in the
running."

Palmer laughed softly. "See? Looks like I picked the right course
after all."

"Go back to the living room."

Palmer shrugged, and Cassian thought he was going to do as he was
told, but instead Palmer slid off the bed, ending up on his knees
with his mouth at Cassian's crotch.

"You know you want it. I know you want it." Palmer's breath
washed over Cassian's cock, and Cassian kept himself from
thrusting with difficulty. Palmer laughed. "Impressive
self-control, but unnecessary." The tip of his tongue swirled
over the head, then withdrew. "I want to give this to you, and
you want to take it. Where's the problem?"

Yes, where *was* the problem? Cassian knew there was one, other
than the specter of the DSD and Palmer's injury, but he was not
thinking as well as he wanted to. It had been too long since he'd
been with anyone, male or female. But this was Clark Palmer,
someone he didn't know that well or trust too far. Maybe that was
the problem. A bed partner should at least be a friend. Palmer
was not a friend.

But he didn't move or tell Palmer to stop. That was more than he
could manage.

"No problem, and no strings, Cassian," Palmer breathed, then
kissed the inside of one thigh.

No strings? Could Palmer mean that? It was possible.

Palmer kissed up Cassian's thigh, then licked his balls with a
delicacy that made Cassian decide to take Palmer's offer. He
wasn't ever going to get Edward, dammit, and Palmer was willing
and there.

He reached down and grabbed Palmer's hair in each hand, then felt
his cock engulfed by Palmer's warm, wet mouth. He thrust in and
out, holding nothing back, and Palmer took it all as though he'd
been born to suck cock.

Cassian had his eyes shut. This was too much. He was going to
come soon, and he wanted to. But then the skilled mouth was gone,
and the bed moved.

"Fuck me." Cassian opened his eyes and saw Palmer on his knees,
with one hand wrapped around his own cock, fisting it in a lazy
rhythm, his other hand up at his left nipple, squeezing it
between two long fingers. "You've got condoms and lube, right?"

Cassian swallowed a groan at the sight. Palmer looked damned
sexy. His training kicked in, and he flicked his eyes to Palmer's
shoulder. No sign of bleeding, and Palmer was moving his arm
without any visible difficulty.

Palmer grimaced. "Don't worry about that. Put me on my back and
fuck me. Come on, Daniel, I'm begging you to."

His first name. Palmer had never used that before. Was it a sign
Palmer was sincere, or a DSD game?

"Dammit, Daniel." Palmer's face was tight. "I want you. If you
want my mouth and not my ass, tell me, but don't fuck with me."

If Palmer was playing a game, he was doing it too well for
Cassian to care any more about it. Cassian reached over and
squeezed the base of Palmer's cock. Palmer let out a low groan
and stopped pumping.

"Get on your back." Cassian took his hand away and saw Palmer do
as he'd said, then reached over to the night stand and took out a
tube and a strip of condoms.

"Good." Palmer's voice was fierce and certain as he spread his
legs. "Hurry up."

Cassian took Palmer at his word and tore open a condom, put it
on, then squeezed out some gel and coated his cock. He reached
down to put some on Palmer, and Palmer brought his feet up and
pushed himself off the bed. Cassian grabbed a pillow and shoved
it under Palmer's ass, then spread the gel over Palmer's hole.
When he went to push one finger into Palmer, Palmer's hand closed
around his wrist.

"I'm ready." Palmer's voice was between a gasp and a moan. "Just
fuck me."

Cassian wondered for a moment if he should insist on preparing
Palmer more, but then Palmer's eyes fixed on his, and he saw a
fierce desire in them. He pulled back his hand when Palmer let go
of it and wiped it on a tissue, then positioned his cock and
pushed it into Palmer. Palmer gasped when the head popped in, but
pushed forward to get more and brought a hand up to pull at one
of his nipples.

"More, Cassian. I want it."

He never would have believed Clark Palmer could sound so
desperate, so hungry, and that desperation and hunger was enough
to get him to give up his ideas of taking it slowly and thrust
all the way into Palmer's ass.

"Yes." Palmer was panting, and his cock was an angry red and
leaking fluid. "More, dammit."

Cassian gave him more, in and out, hard and fast and certain,
until Palmer groaned and arched up and came over himself and
Cassian. Cassian thrust all the way in and stilled and came with
Palmer's muscles spasmed around him.

He pulled out and heard Palmer's sigh and scanned the other man's
body. No blood from the shoulder, and no traces of blood on the
condom.

"I'm fine." Palmer's voice was drowsy, but certain. "Hand me some
tissues. I don't want to move."

Cassian almost smiled at that, but handed him the box of tissues
instead. Palmer grabbed a handful and wiped himself off, then
another to finish. Cassian took off the condom, knotted it, and
dropped it in the wastebasket before using some tissues to clean
himself off. He glanced at Palmer, whose eyes were closed now,
and decided to go to the bathroom and wash.

When he got back, Palmer was under the covers with his head on a
pillow.

"Thought I'd just stay here," Palmer drawled.

Cassian lifted the covers on his side before getting in. "Fine."
He settled down in bed and composed himself to sleep, facing away
from Palmer.

"You should fuck Marcase like that."

What the hell? Cassian rolled over and stared at Palmer, who had
an odd smile on his face. "Edward is a member of my team and a
respected colleague."

"Yeah, and he's a smart guy who wants you to fuck him. You have
to have noticed. I tried with him, but all he wants is you. Just
call him into your office and tell him you'll give him what he
wants and see how fast he strips. Or ask him here. More
comfortable, for sure."

"You are out of your mind."

"Am I?" Palmer's eyes were bright again. "All right, Cassian,
whatever you say. Sorry. Never mind. I'm sure Marcase will find
some stud to give him what he wants. Maybe he and your CIA boy
are fucking already, although I've always heard CIA guys take it.
Michael might be the exception to that rule. Too bad I can't find
out, but you could."

"Go to sleep. I'll check your wound in the morning." Palmer was
wrong about both Edward and Michael, but that was his problem.

Palmer laughed softly. "O.K., doc. Thanks for the treatment."

Cassian turned over. "Certainly. As you said, I owed you."

Palmer laughed again, then was quiet, and Cassian let himself
relax into sleep.

*****

Cassian knew he was alone in the room the next morning before he
opened his eyes. His closet door was open, and when he checked,
he found a pair of jeans missing, as well as an old shirt,
neither of which he minded losing. At least Palmer hadn't taken
one of his suits.

Palmer must have felt well enough to leave, which was his
decision. He put on his robe and slippers and went into the
kitchen, where he found a piece of his stationary folded in half
by his coffee maker. He opened it and read:

**Debt paid.**

There was no signature, but Cassian knew it was from Palmer. He
refolded the paper, then put it in his pocket, and wondered as he
took the coffee beans from the freezer which had paid off the
debt: the treatment or the sex.

He would probably never know.

The End

Posted 1/27/02