One Piece Missing 
by R'rain Prior 
rprior@techplus.com 
 
 
WEDNESDAY 
 
Blair stormed into the loft and slammed the door. "Did you know," he 
said, dumping his jacket on a chair, "that in some African tribes if 
a woman does not honour her word they publicly *behead* her?" 
 
Jim chuckled from his seat in front of the television, "Good date, 
Chief?" 
 
"She stood me up.  I can't believe she stood me up." 
 
"If I recall correctly, you were only going on this date as a favour 
to a friend?  Or did I completely misunderstand your intentions." 
 
"That's still no reason to brush me off like that.  Man, what a waste 
of a good evening.  Not to mention perfectly good reservations at a 
rather nice restaurant."  He stood in the kitchen, looking lost for a 
moment. 
 
"Hang that jacket up, would you, Sandburg?  And if you're starving, 
there's leftover spaghetti in the fridge.  I know it's a nightmare to 
reheat, but it's either that or that brown stuff you've had sitting 
in there for about two weeks now." 
 
Blair got an alarmed look on his face and flung the fridge open, 
pulling out the offending container of 'brown stuff'.  "Oh man, I 
forgot about this.  It was *cheesecake*, too.  Why didn't you say 
something about it sooner?" 
 
Jim shrugged, "I thought you knew about it.  You know I don't go 
messing around in your food." 
 
"Yeah, yeah," muttered Blair, rummaging around for the spaghetti.  
"So what are you doing home so early?" 
 
"Watching the game," he said simply, and Blair realized if he had 
being paying attention to anything but himself he would have noticed 
that.  He opened the container of spaghetti, took one look at it, and 
decided he really wasn't in the mood to eat just yet. 
 
"Mind some company?" 
 
"Are you going to sit here and mope?" 
 
"No, I'm going to sit there and bitch about my non-existent date for 
a while, then I'm going to storm off to my room and mope for a while 
before coming out here again, making myself some tea and sitting at 
the table wondering what I did in a past life to deserve this." 
 
Jim nodded and tried to keep the smirk off his face.  "All right 
then, but the game's almost over." 
 
"So we pop in a movie," said Blair, walking into the living room and 
sitting down next to Jim. 
 
Jim looked at him and raised an eyebrow, "That wasn't in your plan," 
he teased him. 
 
"Plans change."   
 
He didn't really say anything more until the final score was 
displayed and Jim got up to put a tape in.  //Okay, so when does the 
'bitching' part come in?  The experience can't have been so bad that 
Blair doesn't have anything to say about it.//  "Any preference?" he 
asked. 
 
"Whatever," said Blair.  Jim was immediately attuned to the tone.  
Where was the usual exuberance?  Hell, where was the irritated energy 
that he had had when he came into the room not all that long ago?  
//Okay, maybe it *was* so bad.// 
 
"Talk to me, Sandburg," he said with a sigh. "What's eating you?" 
 
"Aw, nothing man.  And speaking of eating, I think I'm hungry now."  
He stood up and wandered back into the kitchen. 
	 
"I thought you were hungry before?" 
 
"I changed my mind." 
 
"You've done that a lot tonight, Chief.  Get something to eat and sit 
down here before I have to chain you to the chair." 
	 
"I'm going, I'm going!  Isn't there anything besides spaghetti?" 
 
"You don't want spaghetti?" 
	 
"I don't want *just* spaghetti."   
 
Blair banged a few more things around in the fridge before Jim 
groaned and got up.  "Didn't I mention I was having a quiet evening 
at home?" he said, pushing Blair out of the way and pulling out a 
Tupperware container.  "Here, have some of this." 
 
The microwave beeped and Blair pulled the plate out, "Ow, ow, hot, 
hot."  He dropped it onto the island with a bang and shook his hand 
out. 
 
"Watch it, Chief, that's the only set of hands you've got." 
 
"Yeah, thanks for the update, Jim.  Hey, is that salad?" 
 
"Don't eat it all, I want some for lunch tomorrow." 
 
"*You* are telling *me* not to eat all of the salad? Whoa, what's 
wrong with *this* picture, man!"  Blair heaped most of the salad onto 
his cooling plate and picked it up in one hand, grabbing a glass of 
milk in the other, "All right, I'm going to sit now.  Happy?" 
 
"Very," said Jim, following him after grabbing a cup of coffee for 
himself, "Now what the hell is up with you tonight?" 
 
"I don't know, man.  I'm feeling all...off." 
 
"Off?" 
 
"Like something is wrong with my life and I don't know what it is.  
You ever feel like that?" 
 
Jim shrugged, "Yeah, sometimes."  He took a sip of his coffee before 
continuing.  "It always passes.  Eventually." 
 
"Yeah, I know," said Blair quickly, "I mean I've felt this way before 
and I know what I've got to do.  I've got to find a goal.  I've got 
to find something to work towards and bam, my life will be back on 
track, you know?" 
 
"Yeah, okay," was all Jim had to say. 
 
Blair devoured his way through dinner and gulped down the milk before 
leaning back onto the couch and turning towards Jim, "So...the 
movie?" 
 
"Just a sec," said Jim, reaching towards him, "You've got a milk 
mustache," he laughed.  He ran his thumb across Blair's upper lip and 
they both froze when their eyes met.  The shock that passed through 
them was vivid and unmistakable.  Blair's eyes held Jim's as a 
thousand thoughts passed through their minds, yet they acted on none 
of them. 
 
It was Jim who pulled away first and turned toward the television.  
"The movie," he said almost absently and hit play on the remote 
control.  "You coming to the station with me tomorrow morning?" 
 
"No, Jim, I have a class on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.  When are 
you gonna learn my schedule, man?" 
 
"Give me a break, Sandburg.  Do you know *my* schedule?" 
 
"Got it memorized," said Blair, sitting back and giving Jim a 
sidelong glance.  Clearly he didn't want to discuss that touch.  
//Well, that's cool.  Can't blame him, I guess.// 
 
Jim shrugged, "Why bother if I can just ask, right?"  //Okay, 
remember those breathing exercises the kid taught you.  In and out, 
nice and slow, make sure he doesn't see you doing it.  Now think.  
Why did you just almost kiss your partner.  Haven't had a date in a 
long time?  Or maybe it's that long hair and those full lips that he 
got you all in a muddle.  No, no, think about it, damn it.  Don't 
think about it.  Think about it hard.// 
 
"You know, one of these days I might not answer you." 
 
"Yeah, that'll be the day.  You seem in better spirits, Chief.  Found 
yourself a goal." 
 
"Ha, ha, Jim, now would you take me seriously for once?" 
 
"I am taking you seriously." 
 
"Yeah," said Blair speculatively, "maybe you are.  And maybe I *have* 
found a goal."  Jim didn't have the nerve to ask him what it was. 
 
 
THURSDAY 
	 
"Jim," said Simon, walking swiftly past him and grabbing the sleeve 
on Jim's coat on the way by, "Just the guy I wanted to see." 
 
"What's up Simon?" 
 
"Where's Sandburg?" 
 
"He has a class to teach this morning.  What's so urgent?" 
 
"I've got a new case for you," he said, pulling Jim through his 
office door and closing it. "Not your usual type of case though." 
 
"What do you mean?"  Jim sat down as Simon released him and returned 
to his desk. 
 
"Well, take a look for yourself," he said, handing Jim a woefully 
thin file.  Jim looked it over, then gave Simon a puzzled look and 
handed the file back.  "I know it's not much,  but it's serious." 
 
"Simon, there's nothing to go on here.  One witness willing to come 
forward.  A rather vague description of the assailant." 
 
"That's why you're going undercover to nail this guy." 
 
"I'm doing *what*?" Jim exploded. 
 
"Come on, Jim.  We've got a serial rapist on our hands, here.  One 
who is going to strike again if we don't stop him.  Don't let your 
damn pride get in the way on this one." 
 
"One attack doesn't make for a serial rapist, Simon." 
 
"We have a second guy who won't go on the record with it.  All we 
have is the hospital report...I should have a copy after lunch for 
you to look over.  These are big, butch guys, Jim.  They aren't going 
to want to admit to being raped, and we have reason to believe that 
it's happened a lot more times than we know.  That's why it will 
*keep* happening." 
 
"Why me?" 
 
"Jim, look at yourself.  You're ex-military, you're in great shape.  
You're the damn poster child for this guy's victims! It's you or it's 
nobody." 
 
"You know I'll do it," said Jim.  Inside, though, he was screaming.  
//Why now?  Why now after what happened last night?  After almost 
kissing my goddamn roommate!  You don't think I have enough on my 
mind dealing with that, you have to throw an undercover assignment to 
a *gay bar* at me?// 
 
"Jim, you with me?" 
 
"Yeah, I'm with you Simon," said Jim, running a hand over his face.  
"So what's Blair's part in this?" 
 
"Your back-up," said Simon reluctantly, "I know, I know, I don't like 
it either.  The guy won't even carry a gun, for Christ's sake.  But 
I've got to admit, he would fit in there pretty well, and when it 
comes to saving your neck the kid'll go to any length." 
 
Jim nodded absently, "You don't think it'll be too dangerous?" 
 
Simon shook his head, "Blair's not the guy's type.  As soon as he 
sees you leave the bar with someone, all he has to do is call it in 
and we'll have you covered." 
 
"I've got to tell you, Simon, I'm really not all that comfortable 
with this." 
 
"Big surprise there," muttered Simon, "Look Jim, I know you've gone 
undercover before, don't treat this any differently.  And don't think 
you can hide in a corner somewhere, you've got to look attractive.  
This guy has got to pick you up." 
 
"You realize what you're asking me to do.  You're asking me to let 
any guy who fits this guy's description pick me up to see if he's the 
rapist." 
 
"I trust your judgment, Jim.  Even more, I trust your senses.  Get 
Sandburg to help you, you'll figure it out.  You'll be coordinating 
your investigation with Lieutenant Austen from our Sex Crimes 
subdivision."  He handed the file back to Jim, "Go down and talk to 
him now, and hook up with Sandburg after lunch.  I want you set up 
and inside the club tonight." 
 
Jim nodded and stood up, "Yes, sir." 
 
"And report back to me tomorrow before lunch, got that?" 
 
"Got it." 
 
"Go on, get out of here.  You've got a lot to do."  Jim left the 
office and looked at the file again.  There really *wasn't* a lot to 
go on.  Maybe Austen would have more than he did.  He could only 
hope. 
 
Ken Austen's desk was on the third floor, through a mess of uniformed 
officers and cluttered tables.  He barely glanced up as Jim 
approached him.  "Hi," said Jim finally, "I'm Jim Ellison." 
 
"Ken Austen," he said, still working on something at his desk, "have 
a seat."  Jim did that, frowning.  Who does this guy think he is?  
Jim sat silently waiting to be acknowledged, and it took far longer 
than he had been expecting.  Finally, Ken put down what he had been 
working on and looked up, "So you're the bait," he said, scrutinizing 
Jim. 
 
"I'm a detective," said Jim, "and we're going to be doing a lot more 
than setting bait for this guy.  Can I see what you have on him?" 
 
Austen gestured to the folder in Jim's hand, "You've already got it." 
 
"This is it?" said Jim incredulously, "Where's the interview 
transcript? The crime scene analysis?" 
 
Austen sighed and ran a hand over his face, "Only one of the victims 
consented to be interviewed, and the transcript mysteriously 
disappeared between the hospital and the station.  The other victim 
barely acknowledges that it happened at all.  Just enough to 
corroborate with the description of the guy that we already had--and 
as you probably already know that's pretty useless." 
 
"The crime scene?" prompted Jim. 
 
"A motel room," said Austen, "that's all we know.  Neither one of the 
guys can quite remember where they were taken." 
 
"Look," said Jim, "I'm going to need a little more to go on before I 
risk my ass in there." 
 
Austen looked at him with a bit of grudging respect, "I wish I had 
more to give you," he said sincerely.  "Look, I'm sorry I was a 
little short with you but this case has really got me on edge.  It's 
not just that we don't have much to go on.  It's that...well, between 
you and me, the disappearance of something like that transcript isn't 
exactly coincidental.  You follow?" 
 
Jim did, remembering a case about three years ago that he'd worked on 
involving a rash of gay-bashing in downtown Cascade where the same 
sort of shit had gone on.  He frowned.  "All right then, what's the 
game plan?" 
 
Austen consulted his notes, then looked up, "It's only Thursday," he 
said, "but we want to get you in there tonight.  Establish you, if 
you will.  I don't know if he'll show so soon after the last attack, 
but he doesn't seem to discriminate on day of the week." 
 
"Captain Banks said something about other victims," said Jim, leaving 
the question implied. 
 
Austen sighed again, "From what the two guys we have talked to *have* 
said, this guy brags about what he's doing, and what he's done.  He 
counts on the fact that people like his victims--big guys, athletes, 
that sort--that they would be too embarrassed to go to the 
authorities.  And for the most part he's right.  So we have no idea 
how many times he's attacked, but I'd put money on the fact that it's 
a lot more than two." 
 
"I've got the description," said Jim, "for what it's worth.  Anything 
else I should know?  His MO?" 
 
"We don't know," said Austen, "the two guys have different stories.  
One says that he approached him first, the other says that the 
attacker was the one to make the first move.  My educated guess would 
be that the attacker picks out his victims--that's why they're all 
the same type of build, the same type of background." 
 
"Like me," said Jim, nodding his head.  "All right, if that's what 
we've got then that's what we've got." 
 
"We can't give you a wire," said Austen apologetically, "Not if 
you're going to let yourself get....well, groped to be blunt.  That's 
the other reason that your partner's going in with you.  We can wire 
him just in case, make sure he can get close enough if need be.  But 
once you're out of that bar you're on your own.  Back-up will be on 
it's way, but you gotta hold him off until they get there." 
 
"I understand," said Jim. 
 
"We need to meet at about 9 to get you two set up.  At Harriet's 
Diner on fourth, you know the place?" 
 
"Yeah, it's just down the street from the bar.  Good choice." 
 
Austen shrugged, "It'll do.  Here's my cell number if you need to get 
ahold of me."  He handed Jim a slip of paper and turned back to the 
paperwork on his desk.  It was an abrupt dismissal, but Jim hadn't 
expected anything less and so turned and left the floor, then left 
the building to catch up with his partner and let him in on the good 
news. 
 
********** 
 
"Jim!" came Blair's cheerful voice as Jim squeezed past the crate 
blocking the door to Blair's office, "I was going to meet you at the 
station after lunch.  What's up?"  He put his coffee mug on top of 
the crate and waited for Jim's response. 
 
Jim's eyes were immediately drawn to the light glinting off of 
Blair's hair, then the sparkle in his eyes that seemed a deeper blue 
than usual, then to the burgundy sweater that he was wearing.  
*Jim's* sweater. "Nice sweater, Chief," he pointed out casually. 
 
Blair looked down at himself.  "Oh yeah, I didn't think you'd mind, 
man.  You never wear it anymore; you said it was too tight and I was 
in a hurry and all..." 
 
Jim looked away and waved his hand dismissively, "It's not important.  
We've been assigned a new case, and it's a doozy." 
 
"Well, have a seat and tell me about it then," said Blair, sitting 
down at his desk. 
 
"Thanks, I'd rather stand," said Jim, leaning an elbow against the 
crate. 
 
"Would you mind passing me my coffee then?" 
 
Jim took a sip out of the mug himself before passing it on to Blair.  
He made a face, "Jeez, want a little coffee with your sugar, Chief?" 
 
"I needed a bit of a sugar rush after that class."  Blair shook his 
head, "I was never a freshman.  So what's the case?" 
 
Jim took a deep breath, "Serial rapist.   Picks up uniformly large, 
muscular men at the bar, takes them to a motel, probably drugs them." 
 
"That's nasty, man." 
 
"We're going in undercover to catch him." 
 
"Excuse me, 'we'?" 
 
"Well, *I* am," amended Jim, "You'll be there in the bar with me as 
my back-up.  Simon and the guys in charge figure you'll probably fit 
into the background of the bar scene pretty easily."  Blair nodded, 
waiting for him to go on.  "How long do you have to hang around 
here?" 
 
"I have office hours until twelve," said Blair, looking at the clock 
on his desk, "and it's a little after eleven now.  Can you fill me in 
on the details here?" 
 
"Might as well," said Jim, finally taking a seat.  After sitting down 
for about ten seconds he got up again and got himself a cup of 
coffee.  It certainly had come in handy over the last few months 
keeping his own coffee mug there.  "We're meeting with Lieutenant 
Austen and his men at Harriet's Diner at nine tonight.  You're going 
to be wired but I'm not.  As soon as you see me leave with someone, 
all you've got to do is place a call to Austen's cell phone or hell, 
just whisper it into your mike, and they'll take it from there." 
 
"Jim?" 
 
"What?" 
 
"You look a little uncomfortable.  Are you cool with all this?"  Jim 
looked at Blair expression and knew right away that he was thinking 
about Jim's reaction to their touch the previous night.  //No, I'm 
not cool with this.  I am anything but cool when I get near you, and 
damned if I know *why*.// 
 
"Sure.  Why wouldn't I be?" 
 
Blair shrugged.  "No reason." 
 
********** 
 
Jim walked into the bar with as much confidence as he could muster.  
He had to look the part--not just in body type but in attitude, in 
the way he carried himself.  He needed to look like he wanted to be 
here.  Immediately he located Blair sitting in the corner and nursing 
a Coke.  He made sure that Blair had caught his eye before he found a 
seat at the edge of the bar where he ordered himself a beer and began 
to survey the scene. 
 
There was really a little bit of everything here.  Cascade wasn't 
like New York or San Francisco, where there was a specialized bar for 
every taste.  No, there were about three gay bars in all of Cascade, 
and a person made do.  There was the leather crowd and the few drag 
queens. Some men whose manner of walking and talking deliberately 
identified them immediately as gay.  And then there was the other 90% 
of the crowd, who looked pretty much just like Jim and Blair. 
 
Jim had never been here before, had never thought much about coming.  
Maybe back when he was much, much younger.  //Blair looks pretty 
comfortable, I wonder if he's been here before.  I wonder why it 
matters so much to me.// 
 
Tearing his mind away from thoughts that had a lot more to do with 
his personal life than the case, he began to look more closely at the 
patrons who fit the vague description of the assailant.  There were 
just way too many to deal with without finding some way of narrowing 
it down, but neither of them victims mentioned any kind of 
distinguishing marks.  No scars, no tattoos, no nothing. 
 
Mentally he began to make a list of men who were smaller than him 
with short brown hair and who were or seemed to be alone.  That 
narrowed it down to about a dozen or so, but it was still early.  
Neither of the victims had left the bar with him until well after 
midnight. 
 
It took him two hours to finish the beer, giving himself time to 
fully metabolize it so his reflexes and judgment wouldn't be 
impaired.  He had a couple of people look interested in him, but 
neither of them fit the description so he politely brushed them off.  
Blair had finished off his Coke and had managed to get himself some 
company.  The guy didn't fit the description either and Blair's focus 
still seemed to be on Jim, so he didn't worry about it too much.  
//I'm not worried.  Why should I be worried?  He has to sit around 
here all night, too.  Might as well have a little company as long as 
it doesn't interfere with his work.  It actually fits his cover.  So 
why do I care.  I'm not jealous or anything...// 
 
At three in the morning, when the bar began to empty, Jim finished 
off his second beer and the slipped out of the room.  About ten 
minutes later, Blair met him at his truck, parked outside Harriet's 
diner.  Austen saw them through the diner window and went out to meet 
them. 
 
"No catch tonight," said Jim, running a hand over his face tiredly. 
 
"I see that," said Austen, "C'mere, kid, and let's get that wire off 
you."  Blair rolled his eyes at being called 'kid' but only Jim saw.  
He was none to gentle, and Blair winced as the tape tore at his skin.  
"Same time, same place tomorrow," said Austen, handing the wire over 
to the man in the back of his black van. 
 
Jim nodded and escorted Blair back to the truck.  "Let's go home and 
get some sleep, Chief, it's been a long night." 
 
Blair was silent for a few moments. 
 
"So who was that guy?"  Blair looked blank.  "That guy you were 
sitting with for about an hour?  I'm sure you remember."  Jim's tone 
was a tad sharper than he'd intended. 
 
"Oh, Rich.  He's another anthro grad student; I've known him for 
years." 
 
"Were you surprised to see him there?" 
 
"No, of course not.  Matter of fact, I used to go with him and a 
couple of friends when I had a dateless Saturday night on my hands." 
 
"You've been there before?" 
 
"Yeah, of course."  Blair scrutinized him partner.  "Jeez, man, 
you're not homophobic are you?  'Cause that is so not cool." 
 
"No, no, just curious.  You hadn't mentioned anything." 
 
"Well, my undergrad night life habits have never come up before.  
Listen, man, would you mind taking some tips from an old pro?" 
 
"What?" 
 
"Tips.  You know, tips.  You were so uptight in there." 
 
"All right, Sandburg, give it to me straight." 
 
Blair knew he was treading on dangerous ground when it came to 
telling Jim how to do his job, but he also knew what he was talking 
about.  "Wear tighter jeans next time.  A T-shirt.  Sit by the dance 
floor instead of at the bar--the view of the room isn't as good, but 
you'll be more approachable there.  You were attracting guys last 
night, but they weren't the type you're looking for.  They were the 
nice guys.  Actually," he laughed, "They were the type of guys you'd 
probably be looking for if you weren't on a case."  His face 
straightened at Jim's deadly look, "If you were looking for guys that 
is." 
 
Jim nodded, "Thanks for the advice, Sandburg.  I'll keep it in mind." 
 
Blair shrugged and looked out the window for the rest of the trip 
back to the loft. 
 
 
FRIDAY 
 
Jim woke up to the sound of the front door slamming and locking.  He 
looked at his clock--8 am.  What the hell was the kid doing up and 
out of the apartment at 8 in the bloody morning?  Even *he* didn't 
have to report to the station until noon after a night assignment.  
Then he remembered, Blair had a faculty meeting on Friday mornings. 
 
Sometimes he couldn't believe the double life that Blair kept up 
with--working almost every day with Jim at the station, and keeping 
up with his own job *and* his research at the university.  The kid 
should be run ragged, but he never once complained about it.  And 
that was definitely something to admire. 
 
Fully awake now, he decided to make his way downstairs and brew 
himself some coffee to make it through the morning.  There was a note 
from Blair on the kitchen table: 
	 
	Jim, 
	Had to go to my meeting.  I'll meet you  
	at the station at 2 unless you call to  
	tell me otherwise.  Have coffee and donuts  
	ready unless you want an irritable 
	grad student on your hands all day! :) 
		See you later, 
			B 
 
There was already half a pot of coffee made, so Jim poured himself a 
cup and sat down in the living room, wrapping his robe a little more 
tightly around himself and thinking about the case in peace and quiet 
for once.  He hated rape cases, hated them more than anything else.  
The victims always ended up feeling completely powerless and stripped 
of all dignity, and sometimes years of counseling couldn't get them 
over it.  It just made him so damn *angry*.  What was worse, though, 
was the fact that most of them got away with it when the victims were 
afraid to come forward.  Not this time, not if he could help it.  No 
matter what the case would cost him personally. 
 
And what was the cost, really?  He had been trying to put himself in 
the right mindset the previous night.  If *he* believed that he was 
attracted to those men, then other people would believe it too and he 
wouldn't compromise his cover.  And he would be going even further 
under the next night.  No wonder his feelings for Sandburg were 
getting all muddled up. 
 
//Feelings for Sandburg?  Just when did I start having 'feelings' for 
him?  And precisely what kind of feelings *are* they?  No, no, this 
is not happening.  It's just the case, the case is messing with my 
mind.//  But a little voice in the back of his head would not let him 
forget the electric looks and touches that had happened before Simon 
had ever mentioned the case.  //When did it happen?  I thought he was 
a crazy, drugged-out neo-hippie punk.  I really did!// 
 
Maybe it had been the day that Blair had saved his life, the day they 
met.  Or the day he'd moved in with Jim.  Or the day two weeks later 
when they'd sat down and Jim, *Jim*, had been the one to tell Blair 
he'd like for him to stay.  It could have been more recently, too.  
One of the many times the he'd saved Blair's life or Blair had saved 
his.  Their lives were so entwined now, Jim couldn't imagine them 
ever being apart. 
 
Abruptly, he picked up the remote control and switched the television 
on, firmly ordering himself to not think about it any more until the 
case was long over and behind them.  As if he could. 
 
********** 
 
Blair was only half an hour late, and came racing through the bullpen 
towards Jim's desk, pinning his police observer id to his jacket as 
he went.  He hardly needed it any more--everyone knew precisely who 
he was and what he was doing there--but protocol was protocol.  Jim 
had a cup of coffee in his hand and a smile on his face when Blair 
arrived.  "Here you go, Chief," he said, holding it out, "Long day?" 
 
Blair looked at him a little perplexed for a moment before answering, 
"Yeah, yeah it has been.  An hour's worth of horny freshman girls 
lined up at my office."  Jim looked at him with a smirk.  "Shit, I 
didn't mean it to come out like that," said Blair, "I meant that it 
would be nice to have someone come to my office hours once in a while 
who didn't want to stare at my hair or into my eyes or give off an 
annoying high-pitched giggle every time they made a stupid comment.  
You know what I mean?  Anyway, what's on the agenda for this 
afternoon?" 
 
"Nothing," said Jim, "I've just been waiting for you to get here.  I 
took care of the paperwork this morning and unsuccessfully tried to 
get an interview with an uncooperative witness.  All we have to do is 
meet with Austen and we can go." 
 
"This morning?  I thought you weren't coming in 'til noon." 
 
Jim shrugged, "I woke up early and had nothing better to do.  I 
thought I'd come in and get some stuff done while you were at work." 
 
"So that's it, we talk to Austen and then we go home?" 
 
"That's it," confirmed Jim, "just let me tell Simon we're on our way 
out."  He grabbed his jacket off the hook and popped into Simon's 
office while Blair leaned over his desk and grabbed a blueberry bagel 
off the plate, taking a big bite and putting it back.  "All right, 
Chief," he said as he emerged, "let's go downstairs."  Blair drained 
the last of his coffee and followed him to the elevator. 
 
********** 
 
Jim let Blair help him pick out his clothes this time, and frowned at 
the result.  "There's no way I'm going to wear those jeans, Sandburg, 
I can barely button them up." 
 
"Perfect," said Blair with an enigmatic smile.  "You don't have any 
white T-shirts but that blue one will do." 
 
"How do *you* know I don't have any white T-shirts?" 
 
"Because I do your laundry, in case you hadn't noticed, and you 
wrecked your last one painting the garage at your parents' place last 
month." 
 
"You do my laundry?" 
 
"What, you thought it magically appeared on your bed every Monday 
morning?  Which reminds me, I'm not going to have time to do it this 
week-end." 
 
"Sandburg, why do you do my laundry?  I *have* someone who comes in 
to do my cleaning once a week." 
 
"Jim, Madeline quit a month ago.  I *told* you that." 
 
Jim shook his head, "I don't remember that.  Well, you can stop doing 
it now, I can take care of it myself." 
 
"Whatever you say, man.  Now the blue T-shirt.  Put it on."  He did, 
and Blair surveyed the result.  "Perfect.  Now wear your leather 
jacket--the black one--and make sure you take it off inside so that 
people can see your bulging biceps." 
 
"My *what*?" laughed Jim. 
 
"Your muscular bod, Jim.  Isn't that what this guy is looking for?" 
 
"Yeah, yeah, right," said Jim uncomfortably.  "So I look okay?" 
 
"You look *hot*, man," said Blair grinning, "Now gimme a few minutes 
to get ready so I can look as beautiful as you."  That got him 
another scathing look, but he ignored it as he raced down the stairs 
and back into his own room. 
 
//You don't need to make yourself beautiful, thought Jim.  You 
already are.// 
 
True to his word, Blair was back out in about fifteen minutes, 
dressed and coifed.  "Ready to go?" 
 
"Ready as I'll ever be," muttered Jim. 
 
"Just relax, man.  Look like you're having fun.  Hell, *have* a 
little fun, there's no harm in that." 
 
"No harm unless the perp gets away, you mean," corrected Jim.  Blair 
just nodded, losing steam.  "C'mon Chief, let's go." 
 
********** 
 
Two beer and almost 6 hours later, Jim was still no closer to finding 
the rapist.  Sandburg had been dead-on with his advice though.  The 
guys who approached him were definitely closer to what he was looking 
for.  But none of them was the right guy.  Either their hair was too 
long, or they were too tall or too broad, or they just plain had the 
wrong MO  Jim couldn't say he wasn't flattered by the attention, 
though.  And was that a hint of jealousy he saw in his partner's 
eyes?  //Get *over* it, Ellison,// he told himself firmly. 
 
There was one guy he'd kept his eye on all night, but he'd left about 
a half and hour ago, alone, without ever approaching him.  //Not that 
I think I'm God's gift to men or anything, but if that was the guy he 
probably would have looked a little more interested than he did.//  
He managed to catch Blair's eye and indicated that he would be 
leaving right away.  Blair would meet him at the rendezvous in 
fifteen minutes at the most. 
 
As Jim left the bar he smiled at a man by the door.  A man with short 
dark hair and a lean frame.  Jim looked at his watch.  Pickings were 
slim when it got this late, and the guy they wanted was after prime 
beef.  But Jim would keep his eyes open for that one the next night. 
 
Blair caught up with him about a half a block later.  "Pretend you're 
with me, would you?" he said desperately, "I've got this real creepy 
guy interested and I think he followed me out of the bar." 
 
Jim sighed and put his arm around Blair's shoulders steering them off 
course and down a well lit side street.  About a block later, he 
turned and went into the vestibule of an apartment building.  He held 
Blair in his arms as they waited for someone to pass.  About 5 
minutes later, when no one did, Jim peeked his head out the door. 
 
"Coast clear?" 
 
Jim ducked back in and pulled Blair into his embrace again.  Right 
behind him a middle-aged, paunchy, greasy-looking man wearing a too-
tight denim jacket passed by the door and looked in.  Blair buried 
his face in Jim's chest, and the man scowled and passed them by. 
 
"That was close," he said, pulling away and running a nervous hand 
through his hair.  "You don't think..." 
 
"No," laughed Jim, "not even close.  Sometimes I think you have the 
worst luck, Sandburg." 
 
"Yeah, tell me about it.  Let's go, okay Jim? I really want to go 
home and shower." 
 
"Gee, thanks." 
 
"You *know* that's not what I meant," said Blair as they left the 
vestibule and started back towards the diner where they were to 
rendezvous with Austen and him men. 
 
"I know, I know."   
 
Austen was a bit disappointed, but didn't seem surprised that they 
didn't catch anyone again that night.  "We just have to do this as 
long as it takes," he said, taking a bit more care removing Blair's 
mike with Jim's watchful eye on him.  "See you guys tomorrow." 
 
"Yeah, tomorrow," said Jim, getting into the truck and experiencing 
déjà vu.  How many times were they going to have to repeat this exact 
scenario before they got him?  How many times was he going to have to 
sit all night in that bar, letting the situation wreak havoc on his 
psyche? 
 
//I can't blame the case,// Jim told himself, //it's me.  I know it 
is.//   
 
"Jim, you with me here, man?" 
 
Jim blinked and turned his attention back to the immediate situation.  
"Yeah, yeah I am, sorry.  I think this case is starting to get to me.  
Did you say something?" 
 
Blair shook his head, "Nothing important."  He paused and went on, 
"You've *definitely* got to wear those jeans again tomorrow." 
 
"Hey, get a grip, Chief.  I'm not wearing them for you."  Blair was 
silent and Jim mentally slapped himself for saying something so 
obvious, so discomfiting.  "Sorry.  I told you I'm a little edgy." 
 
"Well, why don't we get home and get a little sleep then," said 
Blair, "You'll feel better about it in the morning. 
 
//I doubt that.//  "Maybe." 
 
 
SATURDAY 
 
Jim awoke to the sound of the shower running.  He looked at the 
clock:  ten am.  //I slept in?  I never sleep in.  What time did I 
get to bed last night?//  Jim counted up the hours and realized that 
he had still only gotten about five hours of sleep all in all.  
Nothing to be ashamed of, although Blair had clearly gotten less. 
 
He lay flat on his back and let the sounds of his apartment wash over 
him.  It was easy to hear everything if he wanted to, and not so easy 
to tune things out.  //Should I tell Blair about that discrepancy?  
Nah, he should already know after that little earwax ordeal.  Twice 
as long to turn it down as turn it up, though.//  That might get me 
into trouble someday.  As it was the sound of the water sluicing down 
Blair's naked body was almost the only thing *to* hear.  He closed 
his eyes and let his mind focus on that and that alone. 
 
A small sound escaped Blair's lips as he showered, and Jim quickly 
realized that the water wasn't the only thing sliding across Blair's 
skin.  His breathing quickened as he listened more closely, cutting 
through the noise of the shower to hear only the sounds that Blair 
himself was making. 
 
A small "Oh!" escaped Blair's lips as he raked his nails lightly 
across his chest.  Jim could hear them scrape across the soft hairs 
to reach his small, erect nipples.  They stopped there, teasingly, 
circling then stroking lightly.  Stroking harder.  Scraping their way 
by as Blair let his hands move inwards and downwards, past his waist 
and across his stomach where they paused. 
 
Jim imagined the way the water must be flowing across Blair's closed 
eyelids, sliding like a flood of tears down his cheeks to cascade 
over his slightly parted lips.  Blair moaned again and Jim echoed 
him, his hands clenched into fists beside his torso on the bed.  He 
had unconsciously thrown the blankets off his overheated body and lay 
there, breathing in time with Blair and fighting the urge to copy his 
gestures. 
 
He heard Blair's fingertips slide through the tangle of hair between 
his legs to grip his own erection tightly.  Blair's teeth grated 
across his full lower lip in an effort not to make any noise.  As one 
hand slid further, cupping his tightening balls and rolling them 
gently, the other began to stroke his cock slowly, smoothly.  Jim 
could hear the cadence of the strokes as clearly as he could feel his 
own heart pounding beneath his chest.  The strokes became quicker, 
the grip tighter.  Jim could hear the blood flow increasing, 
swelling.  Blair's other hand was at his chest again, caressing, 
clawing, gripping. 
 
As he heard Blair come he jammed his fist into his mouth to keep from 
shouting out at the same moment Blair drew in an enormous gasp.  He 
tried not to cry from frustration as the falling water washed away 
the evidence of Blair's passion.  As Blair stopped the flow of water, 
Jim began the process of turning down his hearing to normal levels 
again. 
 
********** 
 
"How many times have I got to tell you?" said Blair, scooping a 
generous portion of eggs onto Jim's plate when he neglected to do it 
himself, "You've got to eat something.  You want to feel even more 
run down than you already do?" 
 
Jim played with his eggs with his fork and didn't put any of them 
into his mouth.  Every time he looked at Blair, he couldn't help but 
think of what he had heard him doing only an hour ago.  //All right, 
Ellison, it's come to this, has it? Give yourself a straight answer 
for once--do you or do you not want Blair Sandburg?  Your roommate.  
Your partner.  A man.//  The answer didn't come to him as easy as 
he'd thought it would.  He'd hoped that by reminding himself flat out 
that Blair was a man would quell his lustful thoughts, but it did 
anything but.  //So what...is the answer 'yes'?  Oh, hell, you knew 
that days ago.  Weeks ago.  Quit going over the same things in your 
mind again and again and come to grips with this.  If it weren't for 
this damn case...// 
 
"Jim?"  Jim felt Blair's hand on his shoulder, and felt rather than 
heard Blair's sigh of relief, "I thought you were zoning out there, 
man." 
 
"Just thinking again." 
 
"About?" 
 
Jim shrugged, "Stuff." 
 
"The case?" 
 
"Not much else to think about these days," he admitted, sticking to 
the half-truth. 
 
"Yeah, I hear you.  Now *eat*, would you?  I'm not going to have 
Simon blaming me when you collapse on the job." 
 
"And why, pray tell, would Simon be blaming *you* for that?" 
 
"I don't know, Jim, maybe because I live with you?  You know, your 
powers of observation lately have left a lot to be desired."   
 
//You're one to talk, Chief.//  Blair leapt up as the toast popped 
and moments later dropped two buttered slices on Jim's plate.  "Do 
you really expect me to eat all this?" 
 
"You *used* to eat all that and more, Jim.  What's been happening to 
your appetite lately, anyway?  Do you think you're coming down with 
something?  Or is it just stress?"  Jim saw the signs of Blair going 
into guide-mode and took steps to ward it off. 
 
"You know, I think I'm just not getting enough sleep lately.  We 
don't need to stop by the station today, maybe I should try and get a 
bit more sleep." 
 
"That sounds like a good idea, Jim.  Just as soon as you eat."  Jim 
let out a resigned groan and began to slowly pick at his food. 
 
********** 
 
When Jim sauntered into the bar that night, he was still thinking 
about that morning, and about Blair.  The atmosphere of the bar was 
slightly different.  More charged almost.  That made sense--it was 
Saturday night and everyone was out to party.  Jim kicked himself 
into action and turned up his visual, scanning the bar for possible 
suspects as he made his way further inside and tried to find 
someplace to sit down.  He spotted Blair in a corner opposite from 
where he had been sitting the previous two nights and nodded 
slightly, looking away as quickly as possible.  Squeezing himself 
into a corner seat, he didn't bother getting himself a drink.  With 
this many people he wouldn't look conspicuous without one, and on a 
night like this he didn't want his reflexes or judgment impaired in 
the least. 
 
There were about a dozen men that he would have to keep his eye on, 
most of whom were sitting in various places around the dance floor, 
and a couple of whom were at the bar.  There was another by the pool 
table and one in a dark corner near to where Blair was sitting.  It 
would be a challenge to keep tabs on just *half* of them, let alone 
all of them and whoever else might come in between then and closing. 
 
Jim eliminated a couple of them right away, and began to relax a 
little as he noticed most of the others weren't really interacting 
with anyone and he didn't have to tune into any conversations.  By 
that night he was already becoming used to having people approach him 
and having to politely decline, but he still found the offers he was 
getting a bit daunting.  He wondered how he would deal with it when 
the time came to accept. 
 
"Hey," said the brown-haired man from the corner, appearing at Jim's 
side.  "Listen, can I buy you a drink?" 
 
Jim took a deep breath, then turned to him and smiled, "Love one.  
Long Island iced tea.  Thanks." 
 
The man smiled and sat down next to him, "My pleasure.  I'm Ian."  He 
held out his hand which Jim promptly took and shook. 
 
"James," he said in reply, smiling again.  Watching from across the 
room, Blair would recognize that smile.  It was the smile Jim gave 
almost every female in his path.  A smile he had given Blair on only 
a few rare occasions.  He glanced over and saw Blair clench his fists 
and look rather put out.  Jim didn't know quite what to make of that. 
 
"Well, James, I've never seen you around before.  New in town?" 
 
Jim shrugged, "Not exactly.   Just...new to the scene.  You know?" 
 
"Yeah, I know.  Listen, I hope this isn't too forward or anything, 
but do you want to dance?" 
 
"Yeah, sure...once I finish my drink."  Ian looked a bit embarrassed 
and nodded.  Jim was having a hard time figuring if this was the guy 
or not.  He seemed nice enough, but looks could be deceiving.  He 
didn't look big enough to take him out, but if he was using drugs 
like they suspected, it wouldn't matter.  He certainly fit the 
description, and he'd had his eyes on Jim all night. 
 
And so Blair watched as the two of them had a drink together, and as 
they danced.  Close.  And as they had a couple more drinks together, 
joking and laughing like a couple of old friends.  And he had to 
watched with a clenched jaw as Ian gave Jim their first, tentative 
kiss. 
 
When Ian left to go to the washroom, Blair tried to inconspicuously 
sidle up to the bar.  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" 
 
"I'm *trying* to work on a case," said Jim, "what does it *look* like 
I'm doing?" 
 
"It *looks* like you're having a good time." 
 
"Well, isn't that the point?" 
 
"Jim, in case you hadn't noticed, you just kissed a *guy*." 
 
"I noticed, Sandburg." 
 
"So, do you think that's him?" 
 
Jim shook his head, "I thought so at first," he said, "but they guy 
we're looking for is smaller than that.  This guy, Ian, he looks like 
an athlete or something.  No, no," he shook his head again, "it can't 
be him. 
 
"Then why...?" 
 
"Are you having trouble with the concept 'undercover'?" Jim asked 
sarcastically.  In truth, he certainly hadn't needed to kiss Ian, but 
he was having a good time and it had just felt right.  Now that Blair 
was by his side again, he was feeling horribly, horribly guilty. 
//What the hell?  The guy is just my roommate.  I don't owe him 
anything.// 
 
Blair took his drink and walked back over to where he was sitting.  
When Ian came back, Jim said something to him and he just nodded and 
wandered off.  The rest of the night was slow, a couple of people 
showing interest but nothing concrete.  When they started to close 
up, Blair and Jim called it a night and headed home. 
 
					 
SUNDAY 
 
They were in for a shock when they stopped in at the nearly deserted 
station the next day.  "Ellison.  Sandburg.  In my office," said 
Simon as soon as he spotted them. 
 
"What is it, sir?" asked Jim, sitting down with Blair propped against 
a table next to him. 
 
"There was another attack last night." 
 
"What?  When?  Who?" 
 
"The guy was picked up from the bar you guys were at.  His name was 
Ian McKay." 
 
Blair inhaled sharply and Jim almost choked. 
 
"What?  What is it?" 
 
"I'm sorry, sir," said Jim, "Ian.  Ian is one of the guys that I 
scoped out last night as the possible rapist.  I sort of know him 
now." 
 
"I see.  Well guess what.  You're the guys who get to interview him.  
Memorial Hospital, room 347.  Now get." 
 
"But Simon..." 
 
"No buts, Ellison.  It's your case." 
 
"What about Lieutenant Austen?" 
 
"He's not in today, so stop trying to get out of this, Jim.  So you 
knew the guy, maybe had a drink with him.  You've just got to tell 
him who you are and what you were doing.  If anything, he'll be more 
likely to cooperate with you than anyone else." 
 
"Come on, Jim, it'll be fine," said Blair, trying to bodily stand him 
up.  //So what if you were making out with the guy last night and now 
you have to tell him that you're a straight cop.  No big deal.// 
 
Jim was suspiciously quiet the whole ride there.  Well, suspicious 
was probably the wrong word, because it was fairly clear to Blair 
what had him so uncomfortable.  What had both of them uncomfortable, 
really.  It wasn't Simon's fault he'd grossly underestimated the 
complexity of the situation, and he was right that it was Jim's 
responsibility to deal with it now. 
 
"Jim?" 
 
"What?" 
 
"I'm sorry I gave you a bit of a hard time last night." 
 
"What do you mean?" 
 
"I mean about you and Ian and..." 
 
"It's all right," said Jim shortly. 
 
"No," said Blair, "no it isn't all right, man." 
 
"If it means that much to you then you're forgiven."  //He seems 
jealous...or is that just wishful thinking?// 
 
"Do you mean that?" 
 
Jim turned his head towards him and smiled, "Yeah, I really mean 
that, Chief."  He pulled into the hospital parking lot and parked the 
truck, hopping out and hurrying towards the entrance so fast that 
Blair had to practically jog to catch up with him. 
 
"Jeez, man, walk a little faster?" 
 
"Sorry," said Jim, slowing down as he entered the door, "I just want 
to get this over with." 
 
"You want me to come in with you?" 
 
Jim actually stopped dead as he considered that.  "Let me talk to him 
alone first, could you?" 
 
"Of course."  //Damn.  He wants to be alone with him.// 
 
"Thanks, Chief.  This is going to be hard enough as it is."  Jim 
winced.  //Did I really just say 'hard'?  This is getting *way* too 
weird for me.// 
 
"Yeah, I know how it is, man.  Listen, I'm going to have a seat right 
here, maybe organize my notes or something."  Blair sat down in one 
of the orange vinyl chairs in the waiting room and crossed his legs 
underneath himself, smiling up at Jim and encouraging him to walk 
down the hall and enter Ian's room.  After a moment, Jim finally 
turned and kept going. 
 
//What do I say to him?  How do I explain?// thought Jim as his feet 
took him where the rest of him dreaded to go.  //A couple of innocent 
drinks, and one very chaste kiss.  So why am I so tied up in knots?//  
With no answer forthcoming, he nodded at the nurse on duty at the 
nurses' station and gently knocked on Ian's door. 
 
"Yeah," said the hearty voice from inside, "Come on in, door's always 
open." 
 
"Hey," said Jim, easing in the door and closing it behind him. 
 
"James!  What are you doing here?"  Ian sat up straight in his bed 
and looked at Jim with wide eyes, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. 
 
"May I sit?" said Jim, clearing his throat. 
 
"Um, yeah, I guess.  How did you--?" 
 
Jim shifted uncomfortably, "Ian, my name is Detective Jim Ellison, 
I'm with the Cascade PD."  Ian groaned and slid back on his bed with 
his eyes closed.  "Last night I was working undercover at the club, 
trying to catch the guy that did this to you.  I'm sorry I didn't, 
and I'm sorry that...that..." 
 
"That you led me on?" 
 
"I didn't mean to.  I had a good time with you," Jim began,  
then didn't know how to continue. 
 
"Bullshit." 
 
"What?" 
 
"No wonder you looked so uncomfortable--the straight cop trying to 
fit in with the queers." 
 
"That's not the way it was," protested Jim. 
 
"Then how was it?  Why did you let my buy you that drink, huh?  Why?" 
 
"Because I wanted to, damn it!  Because that was the third night in a 
row that I had been sitting in there, and you were the first person 
that showed any interest in me that interested *me* in the least." 
 
"You're lying." 
 
"And...and you fit the description we had of the assailant," admitted 
Jim. 
 
"Ah, here it comes.  The truth," said Ian angrily. 
 
"Ian, it was clear to me after that first drink that you weren't the 
one.  Before we ever danced, before we ever sat there and talked, 
before you ever..." 
 
"...kissed you," finished Ian, looking at Jim with a little more 
respect and a load of disbelief.  "You're...  And you didn't know, 
did you?" 
 
Jim squirmed in his seat again, "Ian, please, I've got to do my job 
here.  Let me do my job." 
 
Ian paused, and then nodded, "Go ahead.  Do your worst." 
 
Jim frowned but went on.  He had to.  "Can I get a description of 
your assailant?" 
 
"Yeah, um..." 
 
"Ian, I know it's hard." 
 
"And how the hell do you know that?" 
 
"I've seen this before," said Jim, both gentle and passionate at 
once, "Men.  Women.  Some battered.  Some with scars only on the 
inside.  And I've had to do this to them too.  I hate asking the 
questions as much as you hate answering them, but if I don't we'll 
never nail this bastard." 
 
Ian took a deep breath and slowly nodded, "I know.  I know." 
 
"Can you describe him for me?" 
 
Ian took another breath, "Shorter than me by at least a couple of 
inches, brown hair about the shade of mine.  A guy his size....he 
should never have been able to do this to me."  He shuddered 
involuntarily. 
 
Jim awkwardly moved over to put a hand on his shoulder, which Ian 
shook off.  "Please...don't," he said, "I know you mean well, but..." 
 
"I'm sorry," said Jim, "I should have known.  I'm not really good at 
this part." 
 
"It's okay.  Just...keep going." 
 
"Eye colour?" said Jim, unsuccessful in keeping the tremor out of his 
voice.  He really did hate doing this, even when he *didn't* know the 
victim. 
 
"Brown," said Ian automatically, "Brown." 
 
"Any distinguishing features?" 
 
"No.  No I don't think so." 
 
Jim glanced over his notes and frowned, thinking for a moment.  "Was 
he wearing a brown leather jacket, with a rip on the...on the left 
elbow?" 
 
Ian shot up in the bed again, "Yeah, he was!  You know him?" 
 
"I saw him," corrected Jim, still looking at his notes.  "Ian, where 
did he take you?" 
 
"A motel," he said with a resigned shrug, "You know, I barely even 
remember that it *was* a motel, let alone which one--I guess I had a 
lot to drink after you ditched me.  But you know, even then, he 
shouldn't have been able to...  God, how could this have happened to 
me?" 
 
Jim wasn't going to get anything more right then, but he had enough.  
He had seen him at the bar, dancing with Ian after they had parted.  
Some detective he was--it didn't even occur to him that the other man 
could have been the one.  He had been too caught up in his own inner 
turmoil and someone else had paid for it. 
 
"Ian," he said hesitantly, "Is there anything I can do?" 
 
Ian shook his head, the tears he had been fiercely fighting back 
beginning to fall, "I need to be alone for a while." 
 
Jim nodded and closed his notebook, leaving the room as quietly as he 
could.  He stopped at the nurse's station briefly to tell them what 
had happened, then went to find Blair in the waiting room. 
 
As soon as Blair saw him he popped the headphones out of his ears and 
stood up, sending a stack of loose pages sliding to the floor.  He 
gave them a brief disgusted glance, then hurried over to Jim, "How 
did it go?" he asked. 
 
Jim shrugged, "Could have been better, could have been worse.  Not 
much more to say about it." 
 
"Well, do you have something to go on?" 
 
"I know who it is," said Jim shortly, walking over to the fallen 
papers and stooping to pick them up. 
 
"You know?  That's great, man!" 
 
"Knowing is one thing, apprehending him is another." 
 
"Yeah, but if you know who it is, how hard can that be?" 
 
"If there's anything you should have learned by now, Sandburg, it's 
to never underestimate the potential complexity of a situation." 
 
"Yeah, you're right," he conceded, "So, about Ian, you guys talked?" 
 
"That's none of your business." 
 
"Come on, Jim.  I mean, you tell me about the women in your life so 
why shouldn't you tell me about..." 
 
"Drop it," growled Jim and walked away.  //Damn it, I think I like 
'Jealous Blair' better than 'Understanding Blair'.  He doesn't even 
know what the hell he's talking about.//  And then came the more 
disturbing thought, //Does he?  No way, this is all just too 'out 
there'.// 
 
Blair watched him for a moment, then followed a little dejectedly.  
//Nothing I try is working with him.  What the hell am I supposed to 
do?// 
 
"All right," he said, "all right.  So where do we go from here?" 
 
"We contact Austen and tell him to have his men ready tomorrow night.  
I'm going back in there and we're going to get him." 
 
"The plan, Jim, we need a *plan*." 
 
"Give me a minute, Sandburg," he said and with a familiar single-
mindedness he headed for his truck. 
 
"Whoa, whoa, man," said Blair, struggling to keep up, "Do *not* zone 
out on me here 'cause I know damn well that truck isn't giving off 
pheromones." 
 
"Shhh," said Jim absently, opening the driver's side door and popping 
the locks, "I'm trying to remember that guy's face." 
 
"All right," said Blair, getting in. 
 
"It's like this blank in my mind--I can see the rest of him but I 
can't see his face." 
 
"All right, Jim, here's what you do.  Take a couple of deep breaths 
and relax.  You're way too wound up, man!"  Jim knew enough to follow 
Blair's instructions.  "All right, remember when I had you remember 
that answering machine message?  This is like that.  You saw his 
face, you saw it clearly, it's there in your mind just *waiting* to 
be found." 
 
Jim reached out and put a hand on Blair's arm to quiet him, "I see 
it," he said. 
 
"All right, Jim, just keep breathing.  Now describe it to me.  What 
does he look like?" 
 
"He looks...normal.  Nondescript, really.  Clean shaven, eyes a 
little close together.  Yeah, I'd know this guy if I saw him again." 
 
"Yes!" said Blair excitedly. 
 
Jim opened his eyes and started the truck, taking his hand off 
Blair's arm to do so.  He'd barely even noticed what he'd done, but 
when he lifted his hand the palm was slightly sweaty.  He listened as 
Blair's heartbeat fluttered a little, then settled down again. 
 
"It's Sunday," said Jim, "there's nothing we can do until tomorrow.  
Why don't we go home and take it easy today?" 
 
"Couldn't have said it better myself," said Blair happily, "Man, it's 
been a long three days." 
 
"*You've* had a long three days," said Jim incredulously, "What's it 
been for me, a walk in the park?" 
 
"Hey, I meant we, Jim.  *We*.  Jeez, man, what's got under your skin, 
anyway?" 
 
//*You* have.//  "Just edgy, Chief, just edgy.  Like I said, we need 
a break." 
 
Without warning, Blair reached out and put a hand on the back of 
Jim's neck, "Your muscles are like rocks, man.  You should really get 
someone to take care of that." 
 
"I'm fine," said Jim automatically. 
 
"You always say that," said Blair, "Look, if today is a day to relax 
then you should *relax*.  I've got a friend who's a certified 
masseuse, I can give her a call and she'll look after it." 
 
"Blair, I just want to go home and take a load off, not have one of 
your lady friends hanging around.  Got it?" 
 
Blair took his hand off Jim's neck as they pulled out of the hospital 
parking lot and headed for the loft.  "I was just trying to help." 
 
"I know you were, Chief," said Jim apologetically, and they spent the 
rest of the trip in silence.  Jim shifted uncomfortably in his seat, 
trying to figure out how to react to his partner.  Nothing had 
changed between them, but something was changing in him and he didn't 
know what to do about it.  It was like when his Sentinel senses had 
appeared--that feeling of helplessness and being out of control.  
Blair had helped him with that--was *still* helping him--but how 
could he go to him with this?  And how could he not? 
 
As Jim went upstairs to call Austen and set up things for the next 
day, Blair put himself to work whipping up something for them to eat.  
Jim wouldn't admit it, but the stress was showing and Blair suspected 
that it had to do at least in part to something other than the case.  
Was it about Ian?  Was there something there that Jim wasn't ready to 
deal with?  That could very easily be it--this case was really 
starting to mess with Jim's sense of self, something that Blair had 
never seen happen before.  They really did need this day to get away, 
to put everything in perspective and get their old routine back. 
 
He heard Jim coming down the stairs and turned to face him, "I've got 
everything under control here," he said confidently, "you go sit 
down, turn on the TV, put your feet up.  Do whatever you want to do, 
man.  You've earned it." 
 
Jim went into the kitchen instead, "In a minute, Chief," he said, 
"let me say my piece first.  I've been a real jerk to you today, and 
probably for the last few days.  I'm sorry, and I know you've been 
working hard too.  Hell, it isn't even your job, and you were working 
as hard as anyone.  You don't need to cater to me, or anything.  You 
got it?" 
 
"What if I want to?" asked Blair, stirring the sauce he had merrily 
simmering in a pot on the stove. 
 
"Then I'm certainly not going to stop you," said Jim with a grateful 
smile.  He resisted the urge to plant a kiss in his Guide's cheek and 
escaped to the living room, where he leaned back on the couch and 
closed his eyes.  He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he felt 
a warm hand on his shoulder. 
 
"Guess I shouldn't have bothered with lunch," joked Blair. 
 
"No, no," said Jim, sitting up straighter and rubbing his eyes, "I'm 
up." 
 
"Sure you are.  Listen, I can put it away for later, no big deal.  
You get some more rest," he pointed a finger at Jim as he spoke and 
started back into the kitchen.   
 
Jim grabbed his arm, "I am hungry, Sandburg.  Let's eat."  Blair 
helped him to his feet, and didn't comment when Jim didn't let go of 
him until they reached the kitchen.  "So how come you're being so 
good to me today?" 
 
"No more than usual," said Blair casually, "Hey, maybe you're just 
finally noticing." 
 
Jim did *not* know how to take that.  "What?  That you cater to my 
every whim?  No, I think I would have noticed that, Chief." 
 
"You know, for a guy with hyperactive senses, you can be remarkably 
unperceptive, have I ever told you that?"  Blair lifted a pot off the 
stove and scooped its contents into a glass bowl on the table. 
 
Jim shrugged, and made it a point to watch his partner a lot more 
closely.  Well, he hardly had to make a point of it--that was all he 
had been doing for days now. 
 
"Jim," said Blair, "I want you to talk to me."  With an abrupt hand 
gesture he prevented Jim from replying right away.  "Now I know 
something is bothering you more than you're telling me, and I don't 
know if it's the case or something else.  I don't even much care, 
because it's making you all weird and I want to know what's up with 
you.  No more apologies or excuses, I just want the truth.  All 
right?" 
 
"It's not that easy, Chief."  //And since when do you and truth have 
more than a passing acquaintance?  No, no, that isn't fair.// 
 
"You don't have to tell *me* that.  But I'm your Guide.  The guy who 
knows more about you than anyone."  //Or so I thought.//  "If you 
don't talk to me then you're going to explode...or go postal or 
something." 
 
"I've handled things on my own before, Sandburg." 
 
"Aha, so there *is* something to handle.  I knew it." 
 
"It doesn't take a detective to figure that one out.  I already told 
you how this case is getting to me."  Jim picked at his meal, rapidly 
losing his appetite.  //Don't push it, Blair.  If you push this I 
might just tell you.// 
 
"Then I guess the question is *how* it's affecting you."  A thought 
occurred to him, "The stress isn't messing around with your senses 
again, is it?" 
 
"No, I think we've got that under control now," said Jim, both 
relieved and disappointed by the direction the conversation was 
taking. 
 
"Is this about Ian?" asked Blair finally, "You can talk about him 
with me, you know.  I'll understand." 
 
Jim sighed, "No, Chief, I don't think you would." 
 
"Hey, how do you know that?  How much do you really know about me 
anyways?" 
 
//Not nearly enough.//  "It's not about Ian, not really.  Is it 
really that important to you that we talk about this?" 
 
"It's not me that I'm worried about, it's you.  I've seen you go 
through some pretty intense stuff, Jim, and I've never seen you quite 
like this before." 
 
"Well, I've never felt quite like this before, so I guess we're even.  
This case, it's making me think about a lot of stuff, okay?  And I 
don't know if I'm ready to talk about it." 
 
"If you're not ready to talk about it, then what happens tomorrow, 
huh?" asked Blair softly, "What happens tomorrow when you're back in 
the middle of it again, and you're feeling even more uptight and 
unsettled than you are now?  Do you think that'll be good for the 
case?  Do you really think that you'll be doing the best job you can?  
You're a cop, Jim, and there's more on the line here than just you.  
But you know what?  Even if it was just you, I'd still be pushing 
this.  You're my best friend, Jim.  I live with you, work with you, 
spend most of my free time with you. How much closer can we get?" 
 
When Jim visibly started at that, Blair's eyes widened.  "Blair," 
began Jim, then stopped and shook his head. 
 
"What?  What is it, Jim?" 
 
"This case, being in the bar, being someone I'm not.  It's made me 
forget who I am.  Or maybe it's made me discover who I am.  I don't 
know which it is and I don't think I'll be able to figure it all out 
until I'm finished with it."  Blair remained silent so he went on, 
"The thing with Ian--I can't explain it.  Ian's great and intelligent 
and good-looking...but he wasn't what I wanted.  I felt like I was 
using him, pretending he was someone else.  God, I can't believe I'm 
saying all this to you.  You've got to understand, everything's all 
mixed up right now.  I don't know what I'm really feeling, and what I 
think I'm feeling, and what I think I *should* be feeling." 
 
"Jim?" 
 
Jim took a deep breath, "I was thinking about you, Blair.  I was 
always thinking about you being the one with me.  I think maybe I've 
been doing it for a while without really knowing, but I can't be 
sure.  I can't be sure of anything right now." 
 
Blair cleared his throat and tried to say what he was feeling, 
"That's normal, to get emotions all mixed up in a case, right?  Well, 
I don't want to mess you up any more, but there's never going to be a 
better time to talk to you about this so here goes."  He paused to 
take a deep breath.  "I don't find the idea of being with you in that 
way at all...I mean, I think I'd like it.  We do everything else 
together, and I think that I want to take that next step with you.  
*Really* want it.  But if you do come out of this and decide that's 
not what you want then that's cool.  I'm still your friend no matter 
what, right?" 
 
Jim was paralyzed.  This was what he had wanted to hear, right?  So 
why was he suddenly so terrified. 
 
"Relax," said Blair, "Let's go back in the living room, all right?  
Don't worry about the food, I'll take care of it.  I think that 
what's going on right now, between us, is a whole lot more 
important." 
 
Jim nodded, his brain still not quite caught up with what had been 
unfolding between them.  Numbly, he let Blair take his hand and walk 
him back into the living room, leaving their lunch forgotten in the 
kitchen.  "Blair," he began, but found he had no idea what to say. 
 
Neither, it seemed, did Blair, and for a moment they both just sat 
there and looked at one another.  Finally Jim raised a hand to brush 
Blair's hair off his face, "I feel like I'm supposed to be making 
some grand declaration to you.  I'm not that good with words." 
 
"You don't need to be," said Blair honestly, "just tell me what's 
going on here.  With us.  Tell me what you're thinking at least, I 
think I have the right to know." 
 
"You do," admitted Jim immediately, "I know you do and I wish I had a 
simple answer to give you.  But I don't." 
 
"Jim, do you want to be with me?  Is that what you want?" 
 
"I don't know.  Yes.  I think so, but nothing much is making sense in 
my mind right now.  I mean, how can I want you?  You're *you*." 
 
Blair smiled, "You know, I'm not quite sure how to take that." 
 
"You're my partner and I trust you with everything up to and 
including my life on a regular basis.  You're my best friend.  You're 
my roommate." 
 
"Yes, we've already established that..." 
 
"Maybe I'm just mistaking that closeness for something else..."  He 
could see Blair's face fall and decided to forge ahead, "But then why 
do I want to kiss you more than anything else right now?" 
 
"Why don't you?" said Blair quietly. 
 
Jim was still for a moment, trying to decide what to do.  That was an 
open invitation if he ever heard one, so why was it so hard to accept 
it?  Slowly, cautiously, he leaned forward and pressed his lips 
against Blair's, just for a moment.  When he pulled back, he saw that 
Blair was smiling. 
 
"There.  That wasn't so bad was it?"   
 
Jim had to smile.  "Definitely not bad, Chief," he said. 
 
"You're okay with it then?" 
 
Jim shrugged, "Yeah, I think so.  I don't know.  It felt good, that's 
all I know for sure." 
 
"I know you think you're starting to feel things because of the 
case," said Blair reluctantly, "If you want to wait and see..." 
 
"No," said Jim, Blair's tone spurring him to a decision, "I started 
thinking these things before the case.  Started feeling these 
feelings, even if I didn't want to know that they were there." 
 
"That night last week.  When I got stood up..." 
 
"Yeah," said Jim, nodding his head, "That night, for one." 
 
"I remember," said Blair, "I even thought maybe, you know..."  He 
reached out and ran his fingers across Jim's cheek.  It wasn't often 
that he saw Jim this vulnerable, and he'd never seen him quite this 
confused.  Not even the day they'd met, when Jim half-thought he was 
going crazy. 
 
"I thought 'maybe, you know' too," said Jim teasingly. 
 
"Well then..." 
 
"What?" 
 
"What does this mean now?" 
 
"Why does it have to mean anything?"  Jim squirmed a little 
uncomfortably in his seat, wrestling with the implications of what 
was happening between them. 
 
"Maybe I want it to mean something," said Blair, "don't you?" 
 
"Of course.  Yeah.  I don't know.  Maybe...maybe we should take this 
real slow, Chief." 
 
"That's cool with me, man.  Really.  I'll still kinda shaken up 
myself and all, you know.  What with you and me and... us..."  Blair 
got up from the couch and started pacing the room, "This is gonna be 
so weird tomorrow," he said, running a restless hand through his 
hair, "when we're working and all and I have to watch you get picked 
up by that guy." 
 
"And I have to let myself get picked up," said Jim, "Aw, man, how do 
I get myself into these things." 
 
"Because you're a cop.  It's your job and you love it, Jim.  And 
you're gonna get that scum off the streets.  It's just a little more 
complicated now." 
 
"Or a little less," said Jim, "At least I know you're gonna be 
watching my back real close." 
 
"Always was, man, always was." 
 
Jim grinned and reached out his arms to Blair.  Blair took a step 
towards him and grabbed onto Jim's hands with his own.  Jim pulled 
the smaller man into his lap.  "Since it's our day off and all, why 
don't we try that kissing bit again." 
 
Blair laughed, "Oh, man, I am just so...so..."  Jim solved Blair's 
communication problem by busying Blair's lips with his own again.  
This time he wasn't as nervous, wasn't as shy, and let his tongue 
dart out for a moment to wet the other man's lips.  Blair wouldn't 
let him pull away, and gripped Jim's shirt in his fist while he let 
their tongues dance together for what seemed like eternity.  When 
Blair finally let go and pulled gently away, they were both 
breathless. 
 
Jim looked at him in awe, "What was that?" 
 
"The beginning," said Blair, "just the beginning." 
 
"And we can take as much time as we want?" 
 
"All the time in the world," said Blair, smiling down at his partner. 
 
"Good, because I'm probably going to want to talk this to death now, 
and while we're doing that we might as well..." 
 
"Eat!" said Blair suddenly, "I forgot all about lunch!" 
 
"It's only been a few minutes, Chief," said Jim, stretching as Blair 
got off him and raced into the kitchen.  //Even though it felt like 
so much more.// 
 
"Yeah, but I didn't even put it away for later or anything," said 
Blair, hustling around the kitchen, "I don't want it to get wrecked 
or anything.  Oh man I am, like, *so* sorry.  I hate to waste food 
like this." 
 
"Hey, relax," said Jim, finally standing up again.  It occurred to 
him that maybe Blair was just as nervous about this as he was.  Just 
as blind and fumbling in the dark, too.  //I don't know what I'm 
doing.  He doesn't know what he's doing.  What a pair we make.//  "A 
few minutes isn't going to ruin a good pasta dish.  Now why don't you 
just sit down and let me serve it up." 
 
"Me?  Sit down?"  said Blair, looking so innocently confused that Jim 
almost laughed. 
 
"Well, you're the only one in the room with me, and pretty much the 
only person I'd ever consider serving anything to besides a subpoena.  
Now sit down before I change my mind."  Blair sat, and Jim served him 
up a large portion of lunch before filling his own plate and sitting 
down across from him.  //Oh man, this is so weird.  What do I do?  
What do I say now that we're ... together.  Are we really together 
now?  Are we?// 
 
After a quiet lunch, Blair sat down on the couch with a pile of notes 
on Jim's sentinel abilities and slid his glasses on, peering at his 
own tiny print.  Jim knew from past experience that once he settled 
down like this, Blair could be busy for hours.  Having nothing else 
more pressing to do, he picked up the latest Time magazine off the 
coffee table and sat down with his back against the arm of the couch, 
tucking his bare feet under Blair's thigh.  Blair turned his head to 
grin at his partner for a moment, then went back to his notes. 
 
//This is comfortable,// thought Jim.  //This is the way it's always 
been between us, only it's more now.  But how much more?  All the 
time in the world, he said.  I think I'd like to take him up on 
that.// 
 
"I haven't got anything down on this case yet, Jim." 
 
"What?" 
 
"This case.  I don't have a record of how you used your senses on 
this case."  Blair looked at him expectantly. 
 
"Do you usually?" 
 
"Yeah, man, I keep a case notebook.  I write it all down, for future 
reference.  So?" 
 
Jim dropped the magazine down on the floor next to him, but didn't 
change his position.  "I though this was our day off?" 
 
"It is.  This is what I *do* on my days off.  You ought to know that 
by now."  His pen was still poised over his notebook as though he 
thought Jim might start dictating to him at any moment. 
 
Jim sighed, "All right, what do you want to know?" 
 
"When you were in the bar, looking for the suspect, what techniques 
were you using?" 
 
Jim had to think about that for a moment; a lot of what he did was on 
a much more instinctual level now.  He used his enhanced senses the 
same way most people used their normal senses.  "Sight mostly," he 
said finally.  "We had a description of the assailant, and I was 
looking at anyone who fit that description in minute detail." 
 
Blair nodded, making a note of it.  "Hearing?" 
 
"Not as much," said Jim, "It was pretty loud in there to begin with, 
and with the dim lighting it would have been pretty easy to zone out 
if I started concentrating on it too hard." 
 
"Shit, Jim," said Blair, concerned, "Why didn't you say something 
sooner?  We could have had something worked out, some kind of signal 
or microphone or, well, *something*." 
 
Jim shook his head, "It was no big deal," he said.  //Yes it was a 
big deal.  Maybe if you'd been able to pay a little more attention, 
Ian wouldn't have gotten hurt.//  But he knew that Blair had more 
class than to call him on that. 
 
"*I* think it's a big deal," said Blair, "Tomorrow I'll sit more in 
your line of sight.  So I'll know if you start losing it.  It ought 
to be pretty easy for me to walk up to the bar and get you out of 
it."  When Jim opened his mouth to speak, Blair went on, "No 
arguments, man.  I'm serious about this.  We're going to nail this 
guy.  Now tell me more about the hearing problems in there..."  //Why 
did I ever worry about power issues in this relationship,// Jim 
wondered.  //This guy is *more* than able to hold his own.// 
 
"They weren't so much problems as, well, overload.  Like that time 
when we went to hear Dred in that club.  I ended up pretty much 
tuning out my hearing and pumping up my sight to find that Sergei 
guy."  Blair nodded again, writing furiously.  Jim nudged him with a 
foot, "Why don't you take a break once in a while, Professor?" 
 
"This is important stuff, Jim." 
 
"I know, I know, but this case..."  Jim began to feel uncomfortable 
again.  "Especially with Ian and, well, with you.  I don't need a 
rehash right now." 
 
Blair took his glasses off and set them, along with his papers, on 
the coffee table, "You're right man.  I guess I'm just avoiding a 
little.  He turned his body to rest against the arm opposite Jim and 
took Jim's feet into his lap, beginning to rub them.  "Work is just 
like escapism, you know?" 
 
Jim's eyes closed momentarily.  "Yeah, I know, but there's nothing to 
escape from.  After tomorrow, when this is all over, we'll have a 
nice long talk, okay?" 
 
"Okay," said Blair, giving him a reassuring smile.   Jim was still 
feeling a lot of the same conflicting emotions that he had been since 
the case had begun, but having told Blair how he felt, and having 
learned that those feelings were returned, made a lot of the anxious 
pressure vanish.  He was almost able to separate the feelings he had 
for Blair from the feelings he had mixed up in the case.  Almost. 
 
Ian was the connecting factor.  Ian, who was a victim in the case.  
Ian, who Jim had kissed.  Ian, to whom Jim had transferred his 
feeling for Blair, for a time.  When this was over, Ian was another 
person he was going to have to have a soul-searching talk with 
sometime. 
 
********** 
 
"All right," said Blair, standing in the parking lot of Harriet's 
diner and gripping two handfuls of Jim's outer shirt loosely, "Just 
relax, man.  Everything is going to go smoothly, we're going to get 
that guy, and later tonight we're going to go home and be together 
and leave all of this behind us okay?" 
 
Jim smiled, "I don't think it's that easy." 
 
"I don't care if it's that easy.  It's warm in your arms and that's 
where I want to be."  Blair brushed his lips against Jim's, "Let's 
go, man."  He released Jim's shirt and turned, walking down the 
street.  Jim watched him go and leaned against the surveillance van 
with a smile on his face, barely caring that Blair had been wired the 
whole time. 
 
Five minutes later he began towards the bar himself, humming the 
whole way and barely noticing that the goofy smile had never left his 
face.  //God, this feels nice.  Why did I ever worry?  Why did I ever 
hesitate?//  Of course he knew why, he wasn't *that* high up in the 
clouds.  But he *was* flying. 
 
Compared to Saturday night, the bar was dead, dead, dead.  Jim kept a 
beer in front of him and sat close to the bar, like he had the first 
night he was there.  At a few minutes after eleven, the man he was 
waiting for came in.  Blair was in his usual corner and Jim caught 
his eye, inclining his head towards the man.  Blair's eyes widened, 
but he was wise enough not to acknowledge him.  At least not in a way 
anyone else would notice.  "I see him," he said under his breath. 
 
Blair watched as Jim turned his body away from the bar and slouched a 
little, so that his body seemed open and inviting.  He bit his lip, 
knowing that Jim was trying to invite someone other than him.  "Sure 
hope you're thinking about me right now, Jim," he whispered under his 
breath and was rewarded by the smile that crossed Jim's face.  He 
winced as he suddenly remembered that he was wired, then mentally 
shrugged.  If the kiss in the parking lot hadn't tipped them off then 
this wouldn't.  If it had, then this didn't really matter now.  "The 
suspect has entered the bar," he said quietly so that only the mike 
would pick it up. 
 
The man passed by giving Jim the once over and Jim smiled at him 
seductively.  //Man, you'd think he spent his whole life like this,// 
thought Blair.  It was easy not to let jealousy get the best of him 
now.  The guy that Jim was trying to seduce was a violent criminal, 
and neither of them was likely to forget that. 
 
Jim sat nursing his drink for another half-hour before the man 
approached him.  "I see you're getting a little low," he said in a 
deep, gravely voice, "Mind if I buy you another?" 
 
Jim smiled at him and tried not to make it look forced.  "Be my 
guest," he said, draining the last of his beer.  "I'm James." 
 
"Pete," he replied, "So, what's a nice guy like you doing in a place 
like this?" 
 
Jim laughed, "You know, I don't think I've ever heard that line 
actually used before." 
 
Pete shrugged, "Seemed appropriate.  It's Monday night.  Don't get a 
lot of nice guys in here Monday nights." 
 
"So what about you?  You a nice guy?" 
 
It was Pete's turn to laugh, "Do I look like a nice guy?"  Jim smiled 
and didn't answer.  "Well, James, you looking for a little company?" 
 
"Yeah, maybe." 
 
"Why don't we go for a drive then?" 
 
"Little forward, aren't you?"  Jim fingered the neck of his empty 
beer bottle and didn't meet his eyes.  Everything seemed to be going 
according to plan. 
 
"Only when I know what I want.  What do you say?" 
 
Jim turned his head to look at him, "Sounds like a good time," he 
said with a slight smile.  //Yeah, we're both definitely on the same 
wavelength here.//  As he stood up to leave with Pete, he listened 
for Blair's report. 
 
"All right," he heard Blair say, "They're leaving together.  I'll 
take off first, go outside, watch the car they leave in." Secure in 
that knowledge, Jim grabbed his coat and followed Pete out of the 
bar.  They walked to a new-looking blue Escort and Pete unlocked the 
door for him. 
 
Blair ran the block to the diner after watching which way the car 
pulled out and hopped into Jim's truck, catching sight of them again 
only a couple of blocks down the street.  Discreetly he followed 
them, confident in the knowledge that back-up was already tailing 
them and they would have a squad of cop cars the moment they needed 
them. 
 
Pete drove to a newish motel at the edge of the city and they both 
got out there.  Blair wondered what the conversation had been like in 
the car, and how smoothly Jim had handled it.  //He's a big boy, 
Sandburg, much as you like to believe he can't function without you 
anymore.  He needs you out here having confidence in his abilities, 
not in there to hold his hand.// 
 
As he watched them enter the motel room, Blair picked up his cell 
phone and called Austen.   "Where the hell are you guys?" he asked, 
trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. 
 
"We lost him in traffic," came Austen's reply from the other end of 
the line, "Where are you?" 
 
Blair quickly assessed his situation.  "Just off of Seventeenth near 
the city limits.  A little place called the West Palm Inn."  He 
grimaced a little at the incongruous title.  "How long are you guys 
going to be?  He's already gone inside with him.  Room 106." 
 
"We're about five minutes away.  Hang in there, kid, it won't be 
long."  Blair hung up the phone and set it on the seat next to him, 
thinking.  Five minutes would be too late, he just knew it.  He had 
to do something now.  Steeling himself, he unlocked the glove 
compartment and took out Jim's spare gun. 
 
Jim sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around the small 
sterile room.  So this was it.  This was how it happened.  Now where 
the hell were Austen and his men?  They should have been all over the 
place as soon as they got the room.  As soon as they had gotten out 
of the damn car--the guy had enough black marks against him, they 
didn't need a charge of attempted sexual assault against him to pick 
him up. 
 
"Do you want a drink?"  //That must be how he drugs them,// thought 
Jim.  Before he could answer, though, a glass was thrust into his 
hand and Pete looked at him expectantly.  He took a sip of it and 
held it in his mouth until Pete turned away with a smile on his face, 
then let the fluid flow back into the glass. 
 
His first warning sign was the thundering in his ears when Pete began 
to speak to him.  It was so incredibly loud that he couldn't even 
make out words, and he couldn't control the intensity.  Then the 
white of the walls began assaulting him, its brightness burning into 
his head.  When his skin sensitivity dropped, the glass slid from his 
fingers and shattered on the floor. 
 
Pete turned back to him, but Jim wasn't seeing anything anymore, so 
he never noticed the predatory smile that crept across the other 
man's face.  He was powerless when Pete pushed him back onto the bed, 
thinking that the drug had taken it's usual effect and Jim was 
sedated.  "Well, now the fun begins," said Pete, ripping Jim's T-
shirt off with his bare hands and leaving angry red marks on Jim's 
chest.  He had just begun devouring Jim's neck when the door to the 
room burst open. 
 
"Freeze, police!"  said Blair, loudly and confidently.  Pete was off 
the bed like a shot, reaching for his ankle and pulling out a gun.  
Blair didn't have time to think.  All he could see was Jim lying 
helpless on the bed, and the man who did it to him pulling a gun.  He 
aimed, closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. 
 
Austen heard the gunshot as soon as he pulled up outside the motel.  
He leapt out of the vehicle the moment it stopped moving and burst 
through the doorway behind Blair.  The observer was standing there 
shaking, his gun still pointed at Jim's assailant.  That man was on 
the floor, bleeding.  "Call an ambulance!" he shouted to his man on 
the other side of the door.  He reached out for Blair's shoulder and 
the other man flinched.  "Give me the gun, kid," he said gently, "You 
got him." 
 
Numbly Blair handed him the gun and took three shaky steps to be by 
Jim's side.  He was torn between wanting to hold him tightly in his 
arms and being afraid to touch him.  Caution won out, but only 
barely, as he pulled the remains of Jim's T-shirt modestly over his 
chest.  "Jim?"  he said softly.  Jim was unresponsive, but he was 
breathing normally and when Blair lay his fingers on the side of his 
neck, the pulse felt normal, too.  He took Jim's hand into his and 
waited for someone to tell him what to do. 
 
Within a few minutes the place was swarming with cops, and a couple 
of ambulances with their sirens blaring screeched up next to the 
motel.  Austen himself took Blair by the shoulder and led him away 
from Jim to let the paramedics do their work. 
 
"Simon," said Blair, "Where's Simon?" 
 
"He's talking to the paramedics about Jim.  Do you want to see him?  
Are you okay?" 
 
"Yeah, I want to see him.  And I'm fine.  Where did you say he was?" 
 
"Hang on a second, kid.  I need to take your statement about what 
happened here." 
 
"First Simon, then I'll talk."  Blair needed someone he knew to tell 
him that Jim was going to be all right.  That everything was all 
right. 
 
"Blair!" said Simon as soon as he saw the young man, "Are you all 
right?" 
 
"I'm fine, Simon," he said, "How's Jim?" 
 
"Relax, Blair, Jim is going to be fine.  He took a dose of something 
and it whacked out his senses, as far as I can tell.  He's conscious, 
he just isn't saying much." 
 
"His senses?  Simon, I've got to be with him!" 
 
"I know you do, Sandburg.  Just give Lieutenant Austen your statement 
and you're free to go with him.  I'll make sure the truck gets back 
to your place." 
 
"Oh God, Simon, thank you so much!" 
 
"It's my job, Sandburg.  Now I've got to go supervise this mess.  You 
take it easy, I'll be talking to you soon."  Simon spontaneously 
ruffled the kid's hair a little before walking back towards the crime 
scene. 
 
Blair raced to the ambulance carrying Jim as soon as he finished 
briefing Austen.  The attendant was just beginning to shut the doors.  
"I'm sorry sir, you can't ride along." 
 
"Like hell I can't," said Blair, grabbing ahold of the door and 
hauling himself inside, "I'm family."  The attendant looked dubious, 
but didn't bother hauling him back out.  "Jim," said Blair, sidling 
up to the barely conscious man, "Jim, can you hear me?" 
 
Jim winced and didn't open his eyes, "Yeah, Chief, I hear you.  My 
senses," he added in a whisper, "my senses are all over the place." 
 
"Yeah, I know, man.  It was that drug he gave you.  Hit you like a 
ton of bricks.  It's okay now.  I'm here and we'll figure it all 
out." 
 
The paramedic had already been warned not to bother with an IV drip, 
and had begun to treat the abrasions on Jim's chest.  Blair 
recognized them as nail gouges, the same as had been found on the 
other victims.  His eyes searched Jim's body and found a faint bite 
mark on his left shoulder.  He winced in sympathy, and hoped that Jim 
either hadn't felt them, which given the problems with his senses was 
a distinct possibility, or wouldn't remember them once the drugs were 
out of his system. 
 
Jim clutched his hand all the way to the hospital, fighting his way 
back to full consciousness and full control of his body.  When they 
hauled him into the emergency room, Blair was shoved off to one side.  
"I'll be right here," he said as Jim was wheeled away, "I'm not going 
anywhere." 
 
He sat down restlessly in the waiting room and picked up a magazine, 
managing to read about two sentences before staring at the door 
they'd taken Jim through.  There were a few other people in there--a 
middle aged woman calmly knitting in the corner, a mother and her 
young son looking rather anxious, a teenage girl pacing back and 
forth between the admitting desk and the soda machine.  The ER 
waiting room was definitely not the place to be when you were trying 
to relax. 
 
About twenty minutes after he got there, Ken Austen showed up and 
took the seat next to him.  "How is he?" 
 
Blair shrugged, "I haven't heard anything yet.  He'll be fine though, 
as soon as those drugs pass through his system.  Um, what about 
Pete?" 
 
Austen was quiet for a moment.  "He was DOA, Blair," he said finally.  
"Are you okay with that?" 
 
"Not really." 
 
"We'll find you someone to talk to, kid," he said, patting him 
awkwardly on the arm. 
 
"I'm not a kid," said Blair in a flash of anger, then took a few deep 
breaths to calm himself down. 
 
"I know.  You never are.  Not after that." 
 
"He's really dead?" 
 
"I'm sorry, Blair, he's really dead.  You did what you had to do, you 
know." 
 
"I know.  I wasn't...I wasn't trying to kill him.  I just wanted to 
stop him from hurting Jim." 
 
"You did.  And you stopped him from hurting a lot of other people 
too.  He's never going to do this to anyone else."  They sat 
awkwardly together in silence for a few minutes, while Blair trying 
to deal with the idea of having killed someone. 
 
"I'm not gonna let this one slip through the cracks.  I'll set you up 
with the police shrink, like if you were a real cop.  Okay?" 
 
"They do that for real cops?"  Blair knew that--he already knew that-
-but things were still floating in and out of reality and the events 
of the last couple of hours still didn't seem quite real. 
 
"It's mandatory the first time, and voluntary every time after that.  
You're not alone, Blair.  It's never easy, for anyone." 
 
"Yeah, I guess."  There was another bout of silence, where Blair once 
again stared blankly at the door. 
 
Austen coughed, "You and Ellison...how long have you...?" 
 
"Not long," said Blair abruptly. 
 
"I'm sure he's fine." 
 
"He is."  Finally--finally!--they pushed Jim back through the doors 
in a wheelchair.  Blair was on his feet and at Jim's side barely a 
moment later. 
 
"Hey, Chief," said Jim, looking a lot more alert, "You're looking 
well." 
 
"Wish I could say the same to you, man," said Blair, but the relief 
on his face was obvious.  He raised an eyebrow and Jim understood the 
implicit question. 
 
"Everything's a little too bright, a little too loud, but it's 
better." 
 
"And everything else?" 
 
"We'll talk about that at home," said Jim reluctantly and Blair 
nodded.  He looked up to see Ken Austen walking over to them. 
 
"Hey, Ellison, glad to see you're all right." 
 
"Glad to *be* all right," he said with a forced smile, "So, what's 
the word?" 
 
Austen looked at Blair briefly before speaking, "Pete didn't make 
it," he said, "and forensics is all over the scene right now.  Looks 
like it's over and all we've got left is to clean up."  Jim wasn't 
looking at him any more, he was searching Blair's eyes, looking for 
signs of how his partner was dealing with this. 
 
"Like you said," said Blair, "we'll talk when we get home." 
 
"Listen, I've got a lot of work to do," said Austen, "Ellison, I'll 
call you sometime tomorrow, let you know what's going on.  You two, 
you take care, all right?" 
 
Blair smiled at him, "Thanks, man, for everything."  Austen just 
waved his good-byes and left the emergency room. 
 
"Blair, they've got to do a few more tests and things like that.  If 
you want to go home, I'll understand." 
 
"No way, man, no way.  I can come with you now, right?" 
 
"Yeah, you can.  If you really want to." 
 
"I do."  The nurse came back over to them from the admissions desk 
and began to wheel Jim away, with Blair right along side of her. 
 
"How much longer is it going to be?" he asked her.  "What else do you 
have to do to him?"  Jim was already bandaged and cleaned up, as far 
as he could tell. 
 
"I'm afraid you'll have to ask the doctor that." 
 
"Well, then, where's the doctor?" 
 
"He's with another patient right now."  Jim looked up at Blair and 
shrugged, as though apologizing.  They were wheeled into another room 
and the nurse left them there, alone. 
 
"Jim," said Blair, "I...what did he...?" 
 
Jim looked at his hands.  "Nothing, Blair.  Nothing like that.  I 
mean, he tried, and I couldn't...I mean, because of the drugs..." 
 
"Shh," said Blair, taking his hand, "It's okay." 
 
"I've been through a lot worse," said Jim, "I was ready for this, I 
knew what might happen.  And he didn't get very far either, Blair.  
Those scratches, that was all."   
 
//Well, he sounds sincere enough.//  "All right," he said, but maybe 
you should talk to someone anyway.  You know, just to get it all out 
of your system." 
 
"If it's that important to you then I will," said Jim easily. 
 
"Jim, about us..." Blair began, "I know it's too soon to know, 
but..." 
 
"Blair, I want you even more today than I did yesterday, or the day 
before that, or the day before that.  I guess it's going to take me a 
while to deal with that, but there it is.  I want you." 
 
Blair smiled brightly, "I want you, too, Jim."  He leaned forward to 
kiss his lips lightly.  "Hell, if we weren't in a hospital..." 
 
"Whoa, easy there, not so fast, Chief.  Why don't we take this slow.  
You know, wait 'til we get home."  He grinned at his partner a bit 
mischievously. 
 
"You know what," said Blair, "You're going to be just fine.  And how 
long can a few little tests take anyway." 
 
Four hours later, Blair finally was able to load Jim into a cab with 
him and take them home.  Jim was looking exhausted, the strain of the 
last few days catching up with him full force, and Blair knew he 
couldn't be looking much better.  He used his last few bucks to pay 
the cabby and hauled Jim bodily up the stairs, careful of the 
bandages on his chest.  When Jim was finally sitting on the edge of 
his bed, Blair almost collapsed, grasping the railing for support. 
 
"God, it's been a long night," he said, "I never imagined a few tests 
could take so long." 
 
"That's because you were unconscious when the did them to you last.  
They always do it for cops, test 'em for everything just in case.  
We're probably the cleanest people on the planet." 
 
"They did that to me too?" 
 
"Well, not quite so much, but pretty damn close.  Especially since 
you came in OD'd.  You don't remember any of that, do you." 
 
"Not much," admitted Blair. 
 
"Well, that's probably for the best.  Now I have got to get some 
sleep," he yawned, as though punctuating the statement. 
 
"Of course," said Blair, leaning down to kiss him briefly, "I'll be 
downstairs if you need me, okay?" 
 
Jim reached out to grab his hand before he could go, "Blair," he 
said, "Stay.  Please.  Neither one of us is much good for anything 
right now, but I want you to stay." 
 
Blair smiled.  //My God, one of these days that smile is really going 
to do me in.//  Jim pulled him closer so that Blair was sitting on 
the edge of the bed next to him.  "I'd love to stay," said Blair, 
reaching to pull Jim's hospital shirt off, "By the way, I suggest we 
burn this." 
 
Jim looked at it mirthlessly, "Burn no, but get rid of, yes.  Not a 
memento I'd like to save." 
 
"I'm sorry, that wasn't even funny."  Blair took the shirt and threw 
it onto the floor, pulling his own T-shirt off over his head.  "Jim, 
we've never...I mean, we've only kissed..." he said nervously. 
 
"Don't worry," said Jim, "All I want to do right now is hold you.  
Maybe convince both of us that we're all right." 
 
"Jim, I'm fine..." 
 
"Shh, we'll talk in the morning."  Jim pulled off his jeans and 
slipped under the covers, with Blair following close behind him.  He 
took the younger man into his arms and held him close, kissing his 
forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his soft lips, "Thank you 
for everything." 
 
"Jim?" 
 
"Yeah?" 
 
"Would it scare you if I told you I think I might love you?" 
 
Jim shivered.  "No.  Would it scare you if I told you I know I love 
you?" 
 
Blair kissed him furiously, "No," he whispered, curling his body even 
closer to Jim's. 
 
"Good night, love," said Jim, kissing him one more time. 
 
"I was right," murmured Blair as they both began to drift off to 
sleep, "It is warm in your arms." 
 
********** 
 
When Jim woke up he was sprawled across the whole bed.  Alone.  
"Blair?" he said tentatively.  His memory told him that he had spent 
the night with his partner, but Blair was nowhere to be seen.  When 
he didn't get a response he got out of the bed and pulled his robe 
on.  "Blair?" he said a little louder from the top of the stairs.. 
 
"I'm in here, Jim, " he said from the kitchen.  Jim padded down the 
stairs and joined him at the table. 
 
"How are you doing?" he asked, reaching for the cup of coffee that 
Blair had already poured him. 
 
Blair shrugged, "It was kind of nice waking up with someone again.  
It's been a long time." 
 
"Yeah, that would've been nice," said Jim, smiling to show Blair that 
he was teasing. 
 
"I'm sorry, man," said Blair, running a hand through his disheveled 
hair.  "I got all restless and I couldn't help thinking about stuff 
so I got up.  I didn't think you'd mind." 
 
"I don't," said Jim.  "What were you thinking about?" 
 
"Yesterday." 
 
"Actually, I was hoping you could be a little more specific." 
 
"How are *you* doing?  I mean, after what Pete did..." 
 
"Blair, Blair, he didn't *do* anything to me.  Not really.  It was no 
more than a physical assault and I've had years of training in 
dealing with stuff like that.  Really, you're worrying over nothing." 
 
"You'll still talk to someone though, right?" 
 
"For you, Blair, yes, I will go and talk to someone." 
 
"Good." 
 
Jim looked at his partner closely, watching the way he was sipping 
nervously at his coffee and fiddling with the edge of his T-shirt.  
"Talk to me, Blair.  What's on your mind?" 
 
"I...I killed someone yesterday, Jim." 
 
"Yeah, I know.  You okay with that?"  //You okay with that?  Jeez, 
you idiot, would it have kept him up half the night if he'd been okay 
with it?// 
 
"Well, frankly no, not really."  Jim walked around to Blair's side of 
the table and leaned over, wrapping his arms around him.  "Hey, 
what's that for, Jim?" 
 
"Because you sounded like you needed it," said Jim, letting him go 
but leaving his hands on Blair's shoulders.  "The first time is the 
worst," he said, "even if you know you did what you had to do, and 
even if you think someone deserves to die." 
 
"I don't think anyone deserves to die," said Blair quietly. 
 
"I know," said Jim, squeezing his shoulders, "I know.  That's one of 
the things I admire about you." He paused, thinking about what to say 
next.  "The first time I killed someone I was 24.  I'd been in the 
army for two years and I was on a special mission in Central America.  
My commanding officer told me to shoot and I shot.  Turns out it was 
only a boy.  A scout.  It took me a while to get over that one." 
 
"Jeez, Jim, I never knew." 
 
"Probably because I never told anyone before.  Blair, we have people 
at the station who specialize in this sort of thing." 
 
"I know," said Blair, "Austen said he'd set me up, make sure I didn't 
slip through the cracks just because I was an observer." 
 
"That's good," said Jim, "and you know, Sandburg, you haven't been 
'just an observer' in a long time.  I guess I should have known 
something like this would happen sooner or later.  Maybe we should 
have talked about the possibility a little more." 
 
"Wait, you're blaming yourself over this?  For something I did?" 
 
"I'm not blaming anyone...but it was partly my responsibility." 
 
"No, no it wasn't," said Blair decisively.  "Jim, I think maybe I 
should learn how to use a gun.  Properly." 
 
"Wait a second, Chief, are you sure about that?  I mean, I know how 
you feel about guns." 
 
"I'm sure.  Maybe if I knew how to shoot a gun I wouldn't have killed 
him, I would have hit his arm like I was aiming for." 
 
Jim put his arms around his partner again, "All right, we'll get you 
trained.  It probably is a good idea.  I just don't want it to change 
you, Chief.  I like you the way you are.  If you became as jaded as I 
am I don't know what I'd do." 
 
"I'm not going to change, Jim.  And I don't plan to *use* the thing, 
just know how to in case this ever happens again, okay?" 
 
"Okay."  Jim kissed the top of Blair's head and moved back around to 
his side of the table. 
 
Blair looked at him curiously, "Time for that talk?" 
 
"High time for that talk," Jim agreed.  "I...I don't know where we're 
going.  I wish I did but I don't." 
 
"I do." 
 
"Well, then, by all means share that piece of information with me." 
 
"Jim, think about it.  For the last year we've been everything to one 
another.  I've been your Guide, you've been my Blessed Protector.  
We've lived together in the same apartment with a kind of symbiosis 
that I've never seen between roommates before.  I cook for you, you 
cook for me.  We go out together, we go camping, we have dinner.  
Don't you see?  We've already *been* in a relationship this whole 
time without ever really realizing it.  We wonder why this 
relationship or that relationship doesn't work out with all these 
women--and it's because we already had something better that they 
couldn't measure up to.  The one thing--the *only* thing--that we 
were really missing was a kind of physical and emotional closeness 
that only lovers find.  That's where we're going, Jim.  That's where 
we're going." 
 
Jim was silent, taking all of that in.  "It makes so much sense," he 
said finally, "But Blair, it's a big step." 
 
"We're already taking it," he said. "We started yesterday when you 
told me how you felt and we haven't stopped since then, not even with 
Pete and the shooting and everything.  There's always been us." 
 
"This is serious, Blair." 
 
"What?  You think I can't do serious?  Jim, this means more to me 
than...than I can even tell you.  I always just thought it would 
never happen.  Lots of stuff in my life just doesn't happen, I'm used 
to it.  But yesterday, that changed everything.  You can't put the 
genie back in the bottle, man." 
 
"I wouldn't want to," said Jim. "Besides, Austen's whole damn team 
knows now.  Hope they know how to be discreet." 
 
"It was just Austen and one other guy," said Blair, "and Austen's 
cool.  I think.  But no one else matters right now, Jim.  Just you 
and me until we get this whole 'us' thing down pat." 
 
"Blair, come back upstairs with me," said Jim, standing up.  "This 
isn't a conversation I want to be having with the remains of 
breakfast staring at me." 
 
"Gee, and I thought you had something else in mind," grinned Blair. 
 
"What if I do?" said Jim, "I mean, is that cool?  Would you know what 
you were doing any more than me?" 
 
"Maybe a little more," admitted Blair, "but not a whole lot.  Does 
that matter to you?" 
 
"No," Jim shook his head, "we'll figure it all out along the way.  
We're going to do this Blair, we're going to be together." 
 
"I don't think we have much choice in the matter anymore," said 
Blair.  Jim was half a staircase ahead of him, but he caught up by 
the time Jim reached the top and threw his arms around him.  "I want 
you too much to turn back now." 
 
Jim hauled them both into the room and threw them onto their sides on 
the bed.  "Just promise me we won't go to the bar for a while, okay?  
The bar, it still messes with my head." 
 
Blair kissed his lips gently and began to undo his robe, "I promise," 
he said.  "I don't want anything messing this up now."  As the robe 
fell away from Jim's body, Blair threw an knee up over him and 
deepened the kiss.  "You sure you're ready for this?" 
 
"No, but I want it anyway," said Jim, kissing him back passionately.  
His hands reached out and caressed Blair's face, learning its 
contours by touch. Slowly they moved downward, his fingers feathering 
paths down Blair's throat to the top of his chest.  Blair moaned 
aloud and bit his lip in frustration at the barrier his T-shirt was 
making.  He reached down and quickly pulled it over his head and out 
of their way.  Now all that was separating them were two pairs of 
boxer shorts and a lifetime of inhibitions.  The boxer shorts were 
easily disposed of, the inhibitions might take a little longer. 
 
"I want to know you, Blair," whispered Jim, "I want to know you as 
only I can know you.  Sight.  Sound.  Smell.  Taste.  Touch.  I want 
to know every inch of you.  Everything."  Blair moaned again as the 
words washed over him, followed by Jim's fingertips dancing across 
his flesh. 
 
"You sure you've never done this before?" 
 
"Never to you, Chief.  Never to anyone like you." 
 
"Man, you've got my heart beating like there's no tomorrow," 
whispered Blair. 
 
"I know."  Jim continued his exploration of Blair's body, stopping 
when he reached the elastic at his waist.  "Blair?" 
 
"Go ahead, Jim.  Take them off.  It'll be okay."  Jim hooked his 
thumbs around the sides and pulled them slowly down Blair's legs and 
off, dropping them over the side of the bed.  Then he looked, for the 
first time.  //I thought I'd be scared, freaked out or something.  
But I'm not.  He's still so damn beautiful.// 
 
After a long pause he continued the exploration down to his hips, 
then removed his hands to pull Blair the right way around on the bed.  
He ended up on his back with his hair fanned out across the pillows.  
It was at that moment that Jim knew he wanted to do this more than he 
had ever wanted anything.  Before he could lose his nerve he pulled 
his own underwear off and lay down next to Blair, throwing an arm 
across his lover's chest. 
 
"This feels great," murmured Blair, stealing a kiss. 
 
"Yeah, it does," said Jim, letting a kiss be stolen.  Gradually he 
inched his body over until he was practically on top of Blair.  He 
flinched the first time their erections bumped. 
 
"You okay, man?" 
 
"Yeah, you?" 
 
"Mmm, very," answered Blair, pulling Jim closer and beginning to kiss 
him again.  This time he refused to stop at a single kiss and kept 
going over and over and over, on his lips, his cheeks, his throat.  
Jim was inundated with sensation that he couldn't control, and didn't 
want to.  Blair was making him feel things that he never imagined he 
could; not even Carolyn had gotten this kind of rise out of his body. 
 
Then their arms were just wrapped around one another and their bodies 
rubbing together, the friction almost unbearable.  "Blair, 
Blair...our first time...I wanted it to last..."  //And at this rate 
I'll be lucky if it lasts another minute let alone another hour.// 
 
"God, oh God, Jim, don't stop, just let it happen, we both want this 
too bad right now.  Later, tonight, this afternoon, whenever, we'll 
make it last, I promise.  Right now, just...don't...stop!"  He dug 
his teeth into Jim's shoulder and gave one last hard thrust against 
his body, coming in sharp waves.  He wasn't the only one; he could 
feel Jim's fingers digging into his back, could hear the other man's 
ragged breaths. 
 
"Oh, my God." 
 
"Jim?"  Blair shook his lover gently, "Jim, you still okay?" 
 
"Okay?  Okay doesn't even begin to describe this, Chief."  Jim took 
Blair's face into his hands and kissed it gently.  "To think, that 
there is so much more yet to come.  It's overwhelming." 
 
"Yeah, it is, but it's a good kind of overwhelming, you know?"  Blair 
loosened his grip, but still curled himself into Jim's embrace.  Then 
he noticed what he'd done.  "Oh shit, oh shit Jim I am *so* sorry." 
 
"What?  What is it?" 
 
"Your shoulder, man,"  Blair pointed at the bite mark he had made, 
which almost exactly covered the one that Pete had left on Jim's 
body.  "I never meant...I never thought..." 
 
"Shh, shh, Blair, I told you, it's okay.  I know what he did to me, 
you know.  I remember; I wasn't in much condition to stop him.  But 
my tactile response was just about off right then." 
 
"Off?  You did that consciously?" 
 
"No, not consciously, I just got lucky I guess.  The point is I 
didn't feel him doing it and even if I had, what you did was so 
incredible I would never compare them.  He didn't even break the 
skin, Blair.  Okay?" 
 
Blair smiled.  "Promise?" 
 
"Promise."  Jim kissed him again and pulled a blanket up over them.  
"Why do I get the feeling you could wring any kind of promise out of 
me you wanted to?" 
 
"Mmm, because I could," said Blair, nibbling on his ear.  With a hand 
on the back of Jim's neck, he let the other pinch Jim's erect and 
inviting nipple.  Jim hissed and threw his head back, away from 
Blair's lips and teeth.  Blair leaned over and took the nipple into 
his mouth, teasing the tip of it with his tongue.  Jim moaned.  "I 
got a question for you," said Blair as he kissed his way across Jim's 
chest to his other nipple. 
 
"Yeah?" 
 
"That tactile thing...*can* you turn it up and down that easily now?"  
He let his teeth graze the nipple as he waited for the response. 
 
"Not...easily, no." 
 
"But you can?" 
 
"Not can," whispered Jim, "Have been.  And *damn* that feels good." 
 
"Have been?" laughed Blair, "Well, let's see if you can take this..."  
Minding the bandages, he left a trail of wet kisses down Jim chest, 
ending up swirling his tongue in Jim's navel.  Jim squirmed beneath 
him and reached for his partner, tangling his fingers in that lush 
curly hair.  "Jim," said Blair tentatively, "do you want me to...?" 
 
"Yes.  Oh, yes," said Jim, clutching the hair even tighter.  Blair 
moved even further down, his hair providing a screen that Jim 
couldn't see past.  He let his lips just barely brush the head of 
Jim's erection, then pulled back a couple of inches.  Jim's moan 
encouraged him to give it another try, and he swirled his tongue 
around the head, taking that little bit into his hot, wet mouth. 
 
Wrapping a hand around the base of Jim's cock, Blair took more of it 
into his mouth, sucking it lightly and letting his tongue continue to 
swirl around the head.  "I think," said Jim breathlessly, "that 
turning the sensitivity up might have been," he gasped as Blair 
coaxed a shudder out of his body, "a very bad idea."  Blair didn't 
reply, not that Jim wanted him to.  His mouth was quite busy with 
other things.  "Blair.  Blair!  How the hell do you do this to me!" 
 
Blair let his mouth slip off of Jim's very ready erection, "Would you 
like a blow by blow, or just another demonstration?" 
 
Jim moaned at the very words.  "Blair, I wish...I can't believe...I 
want..." 
 
"What, Jim?  What do you want?  Whatever it is, I'll..." 
 
"I wish I could feel you inside me.  I can't believe I want that.  
I've never wanted that." 
 
"Jim, I've..." 
 
"Shh, Blair.  We can't anyway.  We're not ready.  I don't even 
have...I mean...let's just say I haven't been all that lucky 
lately..." 
 
"Understood, man," said Blair with a sly grin, giving Jim's cock a 
quick lick, "In that case..."  Blair reached for something beyond 
Jim's line of sight and by the time he thought to listen, there was 
nothing to hear.  Then Blair's mouth engulfed him again for a moment 
and his mind was wiped clean.  "Jim, I'm going to..." 
 
"What?  *What?*" 
 
"Nevermind.  Just tell me if you don't like it."  Jim nodded, not 
caring that Blair probably couldn't see it.  He was still blown away 
by the sheer ecstasy of the experience.  Then he felt Blair's hands 
caressing his ass, his mouth over Jim's cock once again.  They were 
so gentle with him, and yet they had a strength that Jim hadn't 
suspected of the younger man.  Then Blair's deft fingers parted his 
cheeks and caressed the length of his crack. 
 
"Blair!" 
 
Blair's mouth slipped off his erection again, "Jim?"  His hands 
stilled, "Do you want me to stop?" 
 
"God, no!"  Jim's burst out without thinking, then took three deep 
breaths and went on, "No one's ever been there, that's all."  Blair 
didn't answer.  Instead he kissed Jim's stomach and caressed Jim's 
opening with his thumb.  Jim moaned and didn't try to say anything 
more, just let Blair do what he was doing. 
 
Suddenly he was invaded by Blair's now-lubricated finger and he 
arched his back, crying out.  It wasn't painful, but it was odd and 
filling and... exhilarating.  Blair didn't ask him again if he was 
all right; he relentlessly pushed onward, stroking in and out of his 
lover with one finger, and then two.  He felt Blair's body shift next 
to him and suddenly Blair's lips were on his again.  Still finger 
fucking him, Blair's other hand wrapped around Jim's aching erection 
and began rhythmically stroking it. 
 
Through the haze of ecstasy he was experiencing, it still occurred to 
Jim that Blair was probably wanting to get some too and he blindly 
reached out to feel his way down his partner's body and tease his 
erection with his fingers.  Blair moaned and thrust himself into 
Jim's hand, miraculously still focusing his attention on Jim's body. 
Jim was amazed and a little ashamed at how hot and hard Blair was.  
He hadn't meant to neglect him, not at all, but once Blair had begun 
having his way with Jim's body he lost all focus.  Turning up his 
sensitivity had been great for him, but probably not-so-great for his 
partner.  Determined to make up for that, he didn't try and bring 
Blair to an immediate climax.  Instead he teased him the way he would 
have teased himself, varying his speed, grazing the head with his 
thumb, letting his hand slide down every so often to cup Blair's 
balls and caress them gently. 
 
All the while Blair continued to make love to him, not urgently but 
still driving him steadily towards the goal.  Soon they both hit the 
point of no return and in a flurry of thrusting arms and legs and 
bodies they came and collapsed against one another. 
 
Panting,  Blair slid his hand out of Jim's body and wiped it briefly 
on the sheets, then trailed his hand up Jim's back.  Skin that was 
sensitized before was positively electrified now and Jim jumped at 
the touch, but the jump only buried him further into Blair's arms.  
He let his still sticky hand slide raggedly up Blair's chest to grasp 
the back of his head and pull him into a voracious kiss. 
 
Blair smiled, "Not so bad for the first time, huh, Jim," he murmured, 
his lips still barely half an inch away from Jim's.   
 
Jim didn't even try to resist the temptation and kissed him again.  
"That was incredible," he sighed happily, content to just lie there 
with his partner.  //Don't think about it too hard, Ellison.  Just 
let it happen.  You know you want it to just happen.  This is what 
you've been waiting for for a long, long time.// 
 
"Now I know I love you." 
 
"What, because of the sex?" 
 
"No, Jim, I know I love you because I can lie in bed with you covered 
in various bodily fluids that are going to glue us together in short 
order with scratches on my back and sheets tangled around my feet and 
I don't mind one bit." 
  
Jim laughed in delight and kissed his lover again and again.  Blair 
had never seem him so uninhibited before.  Not ever.  "You look so 
happy," he whispered, caressing Jim's face with his fingers. 
 
"I *am* so happy," said Jim, smiling, "and you, my love, are 
positively glowing, so you're one to talk." 
 
"Touché." 
 
As Jim nuzzled Blair's neck and let his hands begin another lazy 
exploration of his lover's body, the phone next to the bed rang 
loudly and insistently.  "Damn," he whispered, his face against 
Blair's ear. 
 
"You want me to tell whoever it is to bugger off?" 
 
Jim looked like he was seriously considering that, but he reluctantly 
shook his head and reached across Blair's body to grab the phone.  
"Hello?" he said, a little groggily. 
 
"Good morning," came Ken Austen's voice on the other end of the line, 
"I didn't wake you up, did I?" 
 
"No," said Jim, slapping away Blair's hand which couldn't seem to 
stop caressing his chest, "We're up.  So what's the news?" 
 
"It's all pretty clean.  We're inside the guy's place right now, but 
we don't need any more evidence to close this one.  It's all over 
now.  There are just a few things you both need to sign.  Make your 
eyewitness reports.  The only sticky thing right now is Sandburg." 
 
"How's that?" asked Jim, trying not to laugh. 
 
"Well, he's a civilian and he took out Cversko." 
 
"Who?" 
 
"Pete Cversko.  You know that Blair killed him..." 
 
"Yeah, yeah, I know.  So what's going on with that?"  Jim tried to 
swat Blair's hands away again but the younger man was tricky and 
dodged playfully out of his reach. 
 
"It's pretty much a clear cut case of self-defense.  On the record at 
least.  Cversko was armed and no one's going to question it." 
 
"And off the record?"  Blair's hands fell away from Jim's body and he 
began listening to the conversation, as though just realizing what it 
was about. 
 
"We both know he did it to protect you, and out of fear and rage.  
There's nothing wrong with that, Jim.  But given your relationship I 
didn't think you wanted that going on the record."   
 
Jim shifted uncomfortably. "Umm, Ken, about that..." 
 
"We don't need to talk about it, Ellison.  What is, is, and I don't 
give a rat's ass what the two of you get up to in bed.  You both did 
fine work on this case, and I'm glad that you came out of it okay." 
 
"Yeah, thanks," said Jim awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say 
about it.  "So, is this afternoon soon enough to come in?" 
 
"I was thinking more like tomorrow morning.  We're all a little burnt 
out and with no court case pending on this one, we've got the time to 
spare.  Oh, and let the kid know he's got an appointment at the 
station at two tomorrow afternoon." 
 
"Will do.  And thanks for taking care of that.  It's been hard on 
him."  Jim ignored Blair's mouthed 'What?' and instead listened to 
Austen's end of the conversation. 
 
"Take care of him, would ya?  I know he's not trained for this sort 
of thing.  Let him know he's done good." 
 
"I have," said Jim seriously, "but I'll do it again." 
 
"I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" 
 
"Yeah, later."  Jim hung up the phone and turned his attention back 
to his lover.  "That was Austen." 
 
"Yeah, I know, man.  I figured that out.  So what did he say?" 
 
"It's over now, all there is left is a bit of paperwork." 
 
"That's it?" 
 
Well, that and you have an appointment with the station shrink 
tomorrow afternoon." 
 
"Oh yeah, that," said Blair flatly. 
 
"Don't back down on me now, Blair.  If I have to I'll force you to 
go, but I don't want to have to do that.  Besides, aren't you the guy 
with the lifetime of therapy?" 
 
"You won't have to do that, Jim.  I'll be there." 
 
"And I'll be there for you." 
 
"I know you will," said Blair.   
 
"And sometime later today I want to go see Ian, let him know how 
everything went down.  And the other stuff too, I guess."  Blair 
nodded.  "And I want you to come with me to see him, if you're 
willing." 
 
Blair smiled in response, then went on, "Man, this case has been so 
heavy, kind of hard to believe that it's all over now." 
 
"It is," said Jim, "but us, we're just beginning." 
 
"Yeah, we are," said Blair, pulling him back onto the bed and into 
his arms, "So why don't we get back down to it, shall we? 
 
Jim had no argument with that. 
 
--End--