THE WAY THE WORLD ENDS
PART I
 
by R'rain
 
 
"Excuse me sir, but the library will be closing in a few minutes." 
 
Blair started at the tap on his shoulder and looked up.  "What time is it?" 
 
"Ten to six," she said promptly. 
 
"Ten to...oh *shit*!" he blurted out.  "Thanks...I'll be out of here in a 
second." He grabbed up as many books as he could manage off the cluttered 
library table. Getting caught up in the research for his latest paper to the 
point where the rest of the world almost ceased to exist, he'd totally 
forgotten once again that it was his turn to clean the loft. //I swear to God, 
every time I turn around, it's my turn,// thought Blair a little bitterly, 
glancing at his watch and noting that he had about three hours before Jim got 
home. 
 
Racing out of the library after checking the books out, he dumped them in the 
passenger seat of his Volvo and began muttering to himself--"Okay, floors, 
fridge, vacuum, dust...how long can it possibly take?"  Over the past couple 
of years he'd learned all the shortcuts between Rainier and the loft, and on a 
good day he could make the trip in under fiteen minutes.  Today, it took him 
exactly twenty-six.  "Okay, two and a half hours, no problem," he muttered to 
himself as he parked the car and hauled his stuff up the stairs, wishing he'd 
had the energy and legs to take them two at a time. 
	 
He dumped his own things in his room and shut the door--by unspoken agreement 
Jim never complained about the mess in there--then made a face at the stack of 
dishes he'd neglected and went straight into the living room.   
 
Jim's stuff was still lying out on the coffee table, making his job that much 
more difficult.  He couldn't really complain--it wasn't something Jim did 
often--but it still twigged his frustration.  The other night, while Blair had 
been busy with his article, Jim had been going through a couple boxes that had 
been stashed in his closet for years.  Now, rather than being tucked neatly 
away, they were making a mess of the living room. 
 
He started stacking everything into piles--letters in one, documents in 
another--smiling as he took a covert peek at some of the flowery, still 
faintly perfumey letters that Carolyn had sent Jim while they were dating.   
 
"Purple, purple, purple," he said aloud, laughing as he went through, finally 
putting them all down for fear of going into sugar shock.   
 
He knew, in the back of his mind, that some of his disdain stemmed from envy-- 
just the tiniest bit, of course--but he couldn't bring himself to put that 
feeling into a full, coherent thought.  //No, it's just really bad poetry.  I 
mean, what possible reason could I have to be jealous of Carolyn?//  He only 
wished that the replies had been there so he could see what kind of responses 
his partner came up with to them. 
	 
Once he'd begun to pack it all away neatly, having finally lost interest in 
Jim's marriage for the moment, it was the couple of letters that *hadn't* been 
from Carolyn that kept drawing his attention.  Jim never talked about anyone 
else, but it was obvious Carolyn hadn't been the only important person in his 
life.  There were two envelopes that stuck out, if only for the fact that they 
were plain white and the handwriting on the outside was *definitely* not that 
of Jim's ex-wife.  They had been tucked into their respective envelopes and 
looked very, very private.  //Aw, hell, what can it hurt.  This is all stuff 
from years ago...// 
	 
Sitting down on the couch, he opened the first one. 
 
 
~~~~~~~~~~ 
Dear Jim, 
 
I haven't heard from you in a while and I was wondering if I'd done  
something wrong.  It's almost summer, you know...time for our annual        
camping trip.  That is, if you still want to go with me.  I'm still in touch 
with a couple of people in Cascade...old friends of ours.   
 
They tell me you're seeing someone now.  A woman at the station that you work 
with (is that such a good idea, by the way?)  It kinda hurts, that you didn't 
tell me, buddy.  You don't think I'm over you or something?  It might have 
been nice to be invited down, maybe meet her. 
 
Anyway, I'm not going to ramble on about missed opportunities...I just want to 
know that you're still alive and remembering that I am too. 
 
Let me know about the trip, okay? 
 
Yours, 
David 
~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
 
Blair had to read the letter twice more before he was able to set it down, and 
even when he did, his hands were still trembling.  Half of him regretted ever 
catching sight of the letter and the other half was thinking it was the best 
thing he'd ever done.  Either way, it was a shock.  //Jim?  With a *guy*?  
Just not possible.//  But 'David' wasn't exactly short for any female names he 
was familiar with.   
	 
He stood up and looked for something to do, something that might take his mind 
off of the letter and its implications.  He ended up finishing the dishes in 
record time, and was scrubbing--scrubbing!--the floor when he let his mind go 
back to it. 
	 
David.  Who was he?  Apparently someone Jim knew a long time ago--from school, 
maybe...or from the service...or from somewhere else?  It was hard for him to 
imagine Jim ever having had a life before the PD, before he returned from 
Peru.  It just wasn't a part of his picture of Jim.  But it had happened--
school and friends and college and parents and playing with his brother and 
writing exams...and joining the military, training for a hundred missions 
before he ever went to Peru.  It had all happened. 
 
And somewhere in there had been David.  And others?  Other men in his life?  
People he had loved, maybe?  It remained unimaginable. 
 
Blair's arms ached from scrubbing at the floor so hard--at least it was 
sparkling when he was done.  Maybe Jim would see that and be impressed.  Maybe 
he wouldn't notice the way Blair would be looking at him differently. 
 
The dusting was next, everywhere except the table where the letters were 
stacked.  The banister he polished twice.  But eventually there was nothing 
left to do, and still an hour before Jim was due home.  The letters kept 
calling him back.  There was another that he hadn't read, hiding in its own 
envelope, harboring who knows what secrets.  Would it be from David too?  Or 
someone else? 
 
Sitting down again, he opened it carefully.  Almost reverently.  It was like a 
key to Jim, and he never, ever wanted to lose it. 
 
 
~~~~~~~~~~ 
Dear Jim 
 
Congratulations on your upcoming marriage.  Carolyn sounds like a lovely woman 
and I can't say I'm surprised you ended up with her.  Whenever I 	imagined you 
being with a woman--and I did from time to time you know--I imagined you with 
someone like her.  You know, strong, competent, career oriented.  Someone like 
you. 
 
You used to tell me when we were lying in bed together that you'd never meet 
someone like me again.  Looks like you've found yourself someone even better.  
I know you think I'm jealous, but I'm not.  We had a great time together--the 
best 5 years of my life--but it was a long time ago now, and we've both moved 
on.  I'm still never going to forget you. 
 
I don't think I'm going to be able to make the wedding.  You're right...it 
would be just plain awkward.  But I'll see you next summer.  July 6th, Manitou 
Lake.  Don't be late! 
 
Always, 
David 
~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
 
//Well that makes everything pretty clear,// thought Blair as he replaced the 
letter into the envelope.  The piles of papers went into the box, carefully 
separated, and the box went onto the floor next to the couch.  Blair leaned 
back and closed his eyes, running his hands nervously through his hair. 
 
//So what does that mean?  I *know* Carolyn couldn't have been the first woman 
that Jim was with.  David makes it sound like he was bi.  That's... 
interesting.  Shocking.  So what do I do now that I know?//  There wasn't an 
easy answer to that question.  There wasn't a single answer at all.  Those 
letters hadn't been his to read--he'd invaded Jim's privacy to do it.  He 
hadn't thought there would be anything much in them, maybe some more sappy 
letters from an old flame.  *Female* flame.  Nothing like this. 
 
//Why am I letting this get to me so much?//  Blair had never really thought 
much about his own relationship with Jim, beyond knowing that it was the most 
important thing in the world to him.  More than any woman he dated.  More than 
any woman *Jim* dated.  More than anything.  It was hard to imagine Jim being 
with someone else for so long, sharing all his thoughts and fears and hopes 
with *them*, and not him.  //But Jim and I, we don't have *that* sort of 
relationship...// 
 
In the end, it came down to just two options.  Either he would mention it, or 
he wouldn't, and there was just no way he could out and mention it.  It was 
therefore a surprise even to him when, as Jim came through the door to the 
loft about an hour later, the first words out of his mouth were "Jim, who's 
David?" 
 
"David?"  Jim stilled for a moment, then forced himself to relax.  "Did he 
call?" 
 
"Call?"  Blair frowned.  "No." 
 
"Oh," he said, looking puzzled.  "Then, uh, what makes you ask?" 
 
Blair tried to think of a way to phrase it delicately, and not incriminate 
himself *too* much, but nothing came to him.  When he didn't answer right 
away, Jim could easily see the signs of nervousness and apprehension.  He 
scanned the loft for any sort of clue, his eyes stopping dead when he caught 
sight of the box, knowing full well what was in it.  "When I asked you to 
clean," he said, his voice expressionless, "I didn't mean for you to be 
*quite* that thorough, Sandburg." 
 
"I'm sorry man," he said hastily, "but it was just *there*.  I didn't think it 
would be anything.  At least, nothing like..."  Jim just nodded, not trusting 
himself to speak.  Blair noted the clenched jaw and the frozen facial 
expression and knew exactly how angry his partner was.  "I was just piling it 
up, and...  I'm just sorry.  I don't know what else to say." 
 
Jim nodded again.  Just kept nodding, really, slowly and hypnotically.  "That 
was private." 
 
"Um, yeah." 
 
He finally stopped nodding and sighed heavily, running a hand over his  
face.  "Sit down, Sandburg, and don't touch anything else."  Knowing how he'd 
feel if Jim had done the same thing to him, Blair didn't protest.  He watched 
as the sentinel regained control of himself, amazed that he hadn't blown up, 
hadn't reamed him out.  Yet.  "David is...David is an old friend."  Jim 
stopped and stared right into Blair's eyes.  "Why'd you do it?  Huh, Blair?  
Why'd you do it?"  His voice wasn't full of anger, as Blair had expected.  It 
was soft and pained. 
 
Blair didn't know what to say--which was definitely not a common occurrence in 
his life.  "I don't know.  I guess... You're always so quiet about your life." 
 
"It's my right to be quiet about it." 
 
"Yeah...I know.  I'm sorry.  I'd be really pissed if you did that to me." 
 
"Sorry's not good enough this time, Sandburg.  I want to know why.  Why you 
did it." 
 
Blair fiddled with his hands, not daring to look at Jim.  "All that other 
stuff, it was just...stuff.  And those envelopes, it was like they were 
calling my name..." 
 
"Bullshit." 
 
He almost jumped at the way Jim spit that word out.  "I'm a nosy shit, okay?  
I wanted to know more about you so I looked.  That's *it*!  No secret agenda.  
No plot against you.  Nothing more than simple human curiosity. Okay?" 
 
Jim shook his head.  "It's not okay, Blair."  Blair was still surprised at how 
calm Jim's voice sounded.  How controlled.  How even. "I trusted you." 
 
Blair ran a hand nervously through his hair.  "I know.  I *am* sorry, Jim.  I 
was sorry as soon as I looked." 
 
"Were you?" 
 
"Yes, I was.  I wished I'd just asked.  I wished you'd just told me." 
 
Jim just turned his back and walked away, up the stairs and into his room.  
Blair lifted his head and watched him go, his heart sinking.  Jim was never 
going to trust him again, and that hurt more than anything else ever could 
have.  He didn't even know what to do to make it right. 
 
A few minutes later, much to Blair's surprise, Jim returned carrying another 
box.  He walked up next to his friend and set it down on the coffee table in 
front of him.  "If you want to know, then at least you're going to find out 
with me here, all right?  You're going to hear the whole story, from me."  He 
sat down on the couch next to Blair and watched for a reaction.  "Go ahead and 
open it, if you want to." 
 
Blair kept watching Jim, looking for signs that this was a test, but all Jim's 
expression was conveying right now was weariness, and maybe a little 
anticipation.  Carefully, he opened the top of the box.  It was full, just 
full, of notes, letters and pictures. 
 
"Jim," said Blair slowly.  "Are we going to talk about this?" 
 
"About what part?  About you snooping through my stuff?  Or about me being 
bi?" 
 
All along Blair had been expecting Jim to come up with some kind of story that 
would explain everything away, but he hadn't.  He'd just confirmed it all in 
one fell swoop.  Blair opened his mouth again, but Jim held up a hand before 
he could say anything.  "I'm the one who left it out; I should have known you 
would look.  Maybe I did know.  I'm not pissed, Blair.  Just a little... 
unready." 
 
"You sure sounded pissed, man," he muttered. 
 
"Yeah, maybe I was."  Jim sighed.  "But sometimes it's just not worth being 
mad at you, Chief." 
 
Blair smiled gratefully and reached in to pull out a picture from on top of 
the pile.  "I was expecting to see something else from Carolyn, you know," he 
said, trying to sound offhand while wheedling more information out of Jim.  It 
was too hard for him to just ask outright.  Too awkward. 
 
"I know," said Jim, not offering an opinion on that but focusing on the 
photograph in Blair's hand.  "That's a picture of David and me and Hannah at 
our college graduation.  I'm sure you can guess which is which." 
 
"Um, yeah," said Blair, still a little flustered at Jim's apparent turnabout.  
It wasn't out of character for Jim to let him off the hook like that, but he'd 
somehow expected this to be a bigger deal to him.  Then again, maybe it was, 
and this was just his way of dealing with it.  "When...when did you meet?" he 
asked. 
 
"Sophomore year."  Jim looked at Blair expectantly.  The other man nodded, but 
didn't quite look satisfied.  "That's not what you're asking, is it?  What you 
want to know is when I knew I was bi." 
 
Blair didn't want to admit outright that Jim was dead on, even if he was.  
"Jim...you've got to understand, this is a *hell* of a surprise.  I'm not 
quite sure what I want to ask yet." 
 
"That's what you get for putting your nose where it doesn't belong, Sandburg," 
he said calmly. 
 
"Wait," said Blair, flustered.  "Just wait.  I'm *really* not getting this, 
Jim.  You're the guy who took almost two years to even tell me he had a 
brother..." 
 
"Don't push your luck unless you want me to leave these boxes in my closet for 
another couple of years," he said, raising an eyebrow in Blair's direction.  
"Maybe I'm just in the mood to clear the air here."  Blair still waited for 
some kind of explanation that would confirm his previous image of Jim, but 
none came.  "I was thinking about telling you anyway," he added, "since you 
don't seem to be moving out of my life any time soon." 
 
Blair grinned sheepishly, inwardly somewhat delighted at how Jim had accepted 
him into his life and didn't seem to want him to go.  The grin was wiped off 
his face a moment later.   
 
"There's this guy at the gym I've been thinking about asking out..." Jim went 
on. 
 
Blair swallowed.  Hard.  "There is?" 
 
Jim nodded.  "It would have been pretty hard to keep *that* from you.  I mean, 
I've dated guys in the last couple of years that you've been here, but this 
time I want it to be different.  Even if there's no way I can let any of the 
guys at the station catch on, I was hoping you'd be cool." 
 
Blair nodded, feeling for all the world like Jim had just popped his balloon, 
stomped on his puppy and pulled the rug out from under him, all in one fell 
swoop.  Everything he was thinking, everything he had come to value about 
their relationship--their somewhat *exclusive* relationship--gone in an 
instant. 
	 
"Blair, you okay?" 
 
Blair nodded.  "Just sort of...picturing it." 
 
"*Picturing* it?" he said, with a distinct glint in his eye. 
 
Blair blushed.  "That is *not* what I meant, man!" 
 
Blair averted his eyes and forged ahead.  "Um...you remember what I was asking 
about before, Jim?  About...how you knew?  Well..." 
 
Jim nodded, his eyes glazing over a little as he remembered.  "My first 
boyfriend was when I was sixteen.  We had to sneak around everywhere we went--
I was terrified that Stephen would find out, let alone my father.  Then, when 
I joined up with the army, well, it wasn't 'don't ask, don't tell' back then.  
It was just DON'T." 
 
"But you did." 
 
Jim chuckled and rubbed his forehead self-consciously.  "Yeah, well that was 
when I was still involved with David." 
 
"No offense, Jim, but...I just can't picture you with a guy.  It's just...it's 
too bizarre." 
 
"Bizarre, Chief?" 
 
"Wait, I didn't mean it quite like that.  It just...you're this big, buff, 
macho guy with a big truck and, you know, a big attitude..."  Blair stopped 
and thought about that for a second.  "Nevermind." 
 
Jim tried not to laugh.  And failed.   
 
"Okay, I'm sorry," said Blair, trying not to laugh himself, seeing he hadn't 
just screwed up again.  "I still can't imagine it." 
 
"Well, I'm sure there's a picture in here somewhere..."  He started rummaging 
through the box until Blair grabbed his wrists and tried to pull them away. 
 
"I do *not* want to see pictures, Jim!"  He didn't have the strength to pull 
Jim's hands away, so he tried to use his whole body.  Jim suddenly went limp 
and they flew backwards onto the couch, Jim landing haphazardly on top of him.  
Their faces were a mere inch apart, and Blair found he had to gasp for breath.  
No one moved.  Then Jim pulled away, his lips passing so close to Blair's that 
he imagined they'd touched. 
 
"Relax, Chief, I'm not going to show you a picture of *that*, whatever you're 
thinking *that* is."  He returned to the box and pulled out another picture.  
"But I will show you this, if you're okay with it."  Before handing over the 
picture he looked at his partner.  "I never stopped to ask...you *are* okay 
with this...aren't you?" 
 
"What?  Oh, yeah, Jim.  I'm cool with it.  Really."  He smiled to try and 
prove his sincerity, tried to ignore his heart pounding in his throat while 
knowing Jim could easily hear it and wonder about it. 
 
Jim handed over the picture.  It was perfect, taken on a beach at sunset with 
just enough light so that the figures in it were recognizable, a little more 
than silhouettes.  It was Jim and David, and they were kissing.  It was the 
most beautiful thing that Blair had ever seen. 
 
"Wow," Blair managed to finally say after staring at the picture for a few, 
long moments. 
 
Jim took it back and placed it carefully next to the box.   
 
"That was taken on our second anniversary, right here in the bay."  He smiled 
a little wistfully. 
 
"Jim?" 
 
Blair's voice pulled him back into the here and now.  "Sorry, just 
remembering.  We really had some great times." 
 
"So, um, what happened?  I mean, you're not together now..." 
 
Jim shook himself a little, shedding that wistful look.  "Well, we also had 
some not-so-great times."  He shrugged.  "Some things just aren't meant to be, 
I guess.  It got pretty hard, once I joined the army.  It was hard on him, 
too, and the stress got to both of us.  I had to choose, and so did he.  He 
just chose first." 
 
Blair looked thoughtful.  "It sounded from the letters like you were the  
one to break it off." 
 
Jim shook his head.  "No, I was willing to give it a shot, but once he ended 
it he started going around screwing everyone in sight.  At least, that's how 
it seemed to me.  After a few months he called me up, asked if we could give 
it another shot.  By that time I had gone on with my life and didn't want to 
go through that again. Maybe it would have worked...I don't know.  But it got 
pretty messy after that.  I got myself promoted and left the country.  We 
didn't talk again for a couple of years." 
 
"I'm sorry," said Blair. 
	 
"Sorry for what?" 
 
"Sorry that it didn't work out, I guess.  I don't know.  You sound... 
 
"Sound what?" 
 
"You sound like you were in love with him." 
 
Jim was quiet for a moment.  "I was."  Again, he had to shake off the feeling 
of nostalgia that threatened to overwhelm him.  He glanced at his partner, who 
was now looking at him with wide, sad eyes.  "You're still really thrown by 
this, aren't you?" 
 
Blair shrugged, then threw on a grin.  "It's the new-and-improved Jim.  Gonna 
take a little getting used to, man."  He picked up the photograph of the beach 
kiss and stared at it a little while longer.  "Okay, yeah," he said finally.  
"I can picture it."  He smiled.  "So when did the summer camping trip thing 
come to be?" 
 
Jim looked surprised.  "Oh, that."  He looked mildly embarrassed, and Blair 
wondered what kind of shock he was in for now.  "When I got back from Peru, he 
was one of the first people who actually called me, to see how I was doing and 
all.  I was still shaken up and, well, really lonely.  We had a little two-
week... "thing".  And then we vowed to get together every summer after that, 
just to keep in touch." 
 
"You slept with him again?" asked Blair incredulously. 
 
"Yeah."  He tried to find the words to justify it.  "I was starved for contact 
with my old life, and he had been a big part of it.  It was a pretty stupid 
thing to do, but then I did a *lot* of stupid things over those next couple of 
years." 
 
"I can imagine." 
 
There was a profound silence for a moment, and when Jim spoke again it wasn't 
about David anymore.  "So if I do bring someone home, like the guy from the 
gym, you're okay with that?" 
 
Blair nodded, but then thought about it for a moment and, taking a deep 
breath, shook his head.   
 
"No, Jim, I don't think I *would* be okay with that." 
 
Jim looked startled.  "You wouldn't?  But I thought..." 
 
"That's not what I mean," started Blair.  "I would be upset because..." 
 
"Because?" 
 
"I mean, it would bother me because..." 
 
"Because?" 
 
Blair took another deep breath.   
 
"It would bother me because it wasn't me," he said finally. 
 
Jim's expression was one of sheer shock.  He opened his mouth to say 
something, but found he couldn't.  After a few long moments of absolute 
stillness, he leaned forward and, closing his eyes, gave Blair the softest, 
tenderest kiss imaginable.   
 
"My god, I can't believe I finally heard you say that," he whispered. 
 
When Jim moved away again, Blair's eyes were wide.  For the second time in a 
day, he was speechless. 
 
"I'm sorry," apologized Jim, seeing that look. 
 
"No, don't apologize," said Blair quickly.  "It was...perfect." 
 
They looked at one another, neither needing to say a word. Finally, Jim 
reached into the box again.   
 
"I don't know where to go from here," he admitted.  "All those questions...I 
assumed that you never..." 
 
"I haven't," said Blair.  "Not really.  Not with a guy," he added.  "Can I, 
um, ask you some more stuff?" 
 
"Yeah, sure," said Jim.  "You okay?" 
 
Blair nodded.  "It's just...it's been a hell of an evening, and it's still 
early." 
 
"Want me to fix something to eat?"  he asked, beginning to get up from his 
seat. 
 
Blair suddenly realized that he was, in fact, *starving*.  "You aren't going 
anywhere," he said, though.  "I've finally got the real Jim Ellison and I am 
*not* letting him go without a fight.  Call for a pizza, would you?  My 
treat." 
 
"Blair, I make twice what you do." 
 
"Not for much longer you don't," he said, a little smugly.  "Can you make sure 
that there are peppers on it?" 
 
Jim made a face that Blair recognized immediately, but his words were 
unexpected.  "Is this going to be our first disagreement as a couple?" 
 
It was such a casual question that it took a moment for the implications to 
sink in.  //Couple?  Well...that's what we are now...//   
 
"Yes," he said, trying to sound flip.  "Go ahead and order two." 
 
"Well, at least we got it over with,"   Jim made the call as Blair leafed 
through some of the stuff in the box, finally coming across a coveted letter 
actually written by Jim. As Jim tried to decide what he *did* want on his 
pizza, he read it.  
 
"You wrote this?" 
 
Jim replaced the receiver and shrugged a little self-consciously, looking at 
the letter in Blair's hands.   
 
"Yeah, I guess," he admitted.  "I didn't know that was in there." 
 
"This is really good.  I didn't know you wrote."  The letter was not only a 
fluid work of prose, but also contained a short poem that he had written.  It 
was so incompatible with what Blair knew of Jim that he'd had to read it 
twice, just to believe that it was really there. 
 
"I used to, back in school.  Not much since then."  If Blair wasn't mistaken, 
there was a note of pain in Jim's voice. 
 
"You should.  I like it," he said, placing the sheet of paper almost 
reverently on the table and smoothing it out with his palms. 
 
Jim shrugged again.  "I haven't really wanted to in a long while.  Carolyn 
appreciated a good Jags game a lot more than good art."  He laughed, maybe a 
little too harshly.  "She really did try, though." 
 
"So that's where it comes from, huh," said Blair, not really wanting to linger 
on the subject of Jim's ex-wife. 
 
"What comes from?" 
 
"Your love of sports." 
 
"Ah," said Jim, finally clear on what Blair was getting at.  "My love of 
sports comes from the fact that I'm good at them.  Nothing to do with her.  
You know that." 
 
When Blair looked at Jim, he almost saw a double image--the Jim of yesterday, 
and the Jim of today.  It was a slow process, but those two images were coming 
together to form, not the whole picture, but something more complete than he 
had ever seen before. 
 
He smiled.  "Okay...this is still a little weird.  More than a little.  Do you 
mind...that I want to know this stuff?" 
 
"Mind?  No, I guess not.  I mean, not now...not now that we're, you know..." 
 
"I thought maybe you'd have an easier time saying it than I do." 
 
"Now that we're together," finished Jim. 
 
"So you don't mind?  I'm not annoying you?" 
 
"Not yet," said Jim, a note of warning in his otherwise tolerant voice. 
 
"All right, all right," said Blair.  "Have you been, you know, with a lot of 
guys?" 
 
Jim considered the question quite seriously, and Blair was relieved that he 
didn't simply dismiss it as too personal, or none of his business, or just a 
stupid thing to ask.   
 
"Depends on what you mean 'been with'." 
 
"Just dated.  Not slept with, Jim!  If I meant 'slept with' I would have 
*said* 'slept with'!"  Blair fought the blush that threatened to creep up on 
his cheeks. 
 
"More than a few," answered Jim finally, "less than a lot." 
 
"Gee, that tells me a lot." 
 
Jim reached out to take Blair's hand and squeezed it a little.  He didn't let 
go.  "I remember them all by name, so it can't be *that* many.  What is it you 
want to know?" 
 
"I guess...oh hell, I don't know.  This is gonna sound kinda stupid." 
 
"Okay, hold it right there, Chief.  Let's make a pact, okay?  I won't call any 
of your questions stupid if you don't call any of my answers stupid.  All 
right?" 
 
"Yeah, sure, Jim." 
 
"All right then.  Go ahead." 
 
"I was just sorta wondering...who have you been with more...men, or women?" 
	 
Jim thought about it while Blair stared at their clasped hands, feeling his 
own pulse picking up.  How long ago had it been that he had sat in here, 
opening that first fateful letter?  Three hours, if that?  Not nearly enough 
time to assimilate all this, to deal with it. 
 
"Men," said Jim finally, to Blair's surprise, "but it's close."  He began 
ticking people off on his fingers.	"Let's see--and this is counting high 
school too, Chief--Jill...Angie...Jonathan.  Then Nita.  Then David--he was 
the longest.  Ummm...Daniel, Kristin, Richard, Doug."  Jim thought some more.  
"that actually brings us to Carolyn.  Then...Michael.  And then you."  He 
smiled at Blair.  "That's it.  Not counting one-night stands, of course.  Not 
that there were *that* many of those, either." 
 
"Man, that's even shorter than *my* list." 
 
"Yeah, but you usually strike out after one date, Chief."  Before Blair could 
fully register what he'd said, Jim picked up the letter and started reading it 
himself. 
 
"Hey, man, that was low." 
 
Jim grinned.  "Not my fault you were looking at the wrong gender."  Blair 
stared at him for a long moment before Jim realized how he'd unnerved his 
roommate with that comment.  "I'm sorry," he said, without offering an 
explanation for an apology. 
 
As the shock wore off, Blair's eyes became a little brighter, his cheeks a 
little redder...his smile a little wider.  Jim couldn't help looking at him, 
just as Blair couldn't help but notice.   
 
"What is it?" 
 
Jim reached out to touch Blair's hair.  "It's nothing." 
 
"Tell me?" 
 
Jim paused another moment, his eyes locked with Blair's.  "I just realized," 
he said clearly, his voice full of wonder, "that somehow I've fallen in love 
with you."  He couldn't pull his eyes away, searching for some sign of 
reciprocation. 
 
Blair swallowed.  "Love, Jim?  That's not nothing." 
 
"You're right, it isn't," he said.  "Love.  Imagine that." 
 
What frightened Blair was that he could.  His whole relationship with Jim, 
when he stepped a little to the side and looked at it another way--that was 
what it was all about.   
 
"So, um, what do we do about that?" 
 
"I guess we wait a while and see if I can make you fall in love with me too." 
 
"Pretty easy job, man," said Blair without really stopping to think about what 
he was saying, his eyes still locked with Jim's. 
 
Jim could see strong emotions warring in those eyes.   Excited, nervous, 
confused, passionate... everything at once.  "Don't worry," said Jim.  "As far 
as I'm concerned we have all the time in the world." 
 
"Good," said Blair, "cause..." 
 
"Because what?  Because you aren't ready?  You don't need to tell *me* that, 
Chief.  This kinda got sprung on you unexpectedly.  Take it easy, it'll all 
work out."  Blair nodded as the pizza delivery boy knocked at the door.  Jim 
reluctantly got up and answered it, tipping him generously and bringing the 
steaming pizzas inside.  Blair was resting his elbows on his knees and had his 
head in his hands.  "Blair, you all right?" 
 
"What?  Yeah, I just...I need to get up.   Move around."  He stood up and 
walked over to the doors to the balcony, looking over the city.  The sky was 
just beginning to darken, and everything held a reddish hue. 
  
Jim set the pizza down on the counter and walked over to where Blair was  
standing.  "You really are just figuring this all out, aren't you.  I just... 
it's taking me a while to remember how hard it is, at first.  Blair, do you 
want me to back off?" 
 
"No.  Yes.  Maybe just slow down.  I need to think.   I feel like, like it 
would be so easy right now, to let you have everything you wanted.  All you'd 
have to do was say the word.  And I know that if I did that..." 
 
"...you might regret it.  At least at first." 
 
"I wouldn't regret being with you, Jim.  Just like I don't regret any of the 
last two years we've been together.  I just might regret us, you know, doing 
anything so soon.  I don't want to ruin this." 
 
"You couldn't ruin this," said Jim.  "But I don't want to make you 
uncomfortable.  I never thought I'd hear you say that you wanted to be with 
me; it was hard enough working up the nerve to tell you in the first place.  
I've never really been out to a lot of people.  Not since college at any rate, 
and that feels like a very long time ago right now.  I really was ready to 
look for someone else, and give up that little dream I carried with me.  But 
you, you're worth waiting for, Chief." 
 
Blair felt Jim's hands come up on his shoulders and they both stared out 
across the cityscape.   
 
"Imagine," said Blair.  "Of all the people in this city, this country, this 
world, you and I managed to find one another.  First as sentinel, and as 
guide, and now as...this.  Really makes you think." 
 
"Try not to think too much just yet," whispered Jim.  "It'll make you crazy.  
We *are* here and we *are* together and that's that." 
 
"Yeah," said Blair.  After another moment, he turned.  "Where'd you put that 
pizza, man.  I'm *starving*" 
 
Jim chuckled, pointing towards the kitchen counter.  
 
"In there.  Don't worry, it's still warm." 
 
Blair grinned.  "Looks like I'm going to have to teach you the virtues of cold 
pizza.  But not until breakfast."  Pulling a piece of pizza out of the box, 
Blair took it into the living room and sat down again, almost challenging Jim 
to call him on it. 
 
Jim looked like he wanted to say something but bit his tongue and gave up on 
his neatness obsession, just for one night.  He did, however, get himself a 
plate to put his pizza on before joining Blair, handing over a second plate to 
his partner with a stern look. 
 
"Can I ask *you* a few questions now?" said Jim after a moment 
 
"Like what?" asked Blair apprehensively. 
 
"How do *you* feel about being with a guy?" 
 
"I'm not sure I know yet.  I mean, with my friends at Rainier, kissing's just 
a friendship thing, guys *or* girls, you know?  It never meant anything more 
than that, so I never really thought about it." 
 
"I remember what college is like," said Jim.  "It wasn't *that* long ago."  
Blair began ticking off the years until Jim snatched up his hands.  "Don't 
even think about it, short stuff."  Casually, he brought one of Blair's hands 
up to his lips and kissed the fingertips.  "Let's save the age jokes for our 
twentieth anniversary, okay?  Or maybe our thirtieth." 
 
"Let's see....that'll make me...fifty-eight.  Okay, we can do that." 
 
He had already become used to Jim's casual touches, that was just the way his 
partner was; it was the more intimate touches he would have to get used to.  
It had been easy for him to fall for Jim with his heart--he realized he'd done 
that a long time ago--but his body was going to be another story entirely.  
Then again, looking at him, he imagined it mightn't be so hard at all. 
 
Jim wasn't looking at him that moment; his head had turned and he was staring 
out those same windows again.  Blair didn't know when his feelings for Jim had 
started, really.  Maybe it was even as far back as the day they'd met.  All he 
knew was that he hadn't wanted them to be apart.  But when had *those* 
feelings started--the ones that made his breath catch and his heart race?  He 
didn't know; he'd only recognized them when he had finally acknowledged them, 
and that hadn't been long ago at all. 
 
He found himself longing just to touch him, the way they'd always touched, 
just to assure himself that they were indeed here and that this was indeed 
happening.  His fingers came up to lightly brush across Jim's cheek, drawing 
his attention back to Blair and back to their conversation. 
 
"How did you know...with David...that you were falling in love?"  The question 
just came out, without forethought, without really realizing why he wanted to 
know. 
 
"Funny question, coming from the guy who used to fall in love every other 
day." 
 
Blair snorted. "Love?  Even *I* know that wasn't love." 
 
"Sorry..."  said Jim.  "Just remembering, I guess.  How did I know I was in 
love with him?  Same way anyone knows they're in love, I guess." 
 
"I'm sorry I just keep coming back to this...but, well, he was a guy.  The 
first guy you were in love with.  Maybe even the first *person* you were in 
love with." 
 
"And?" 
 
"What do you mean 'and'?" 
 
"Are you expecting it to be somehow different?" 
 
Blair shook his head.  "No.  I don't know what I think.  You--Jim Ellison--had 
a long-term relationship with another guy.  A *man*.  It's still, well, a 
shock." 
 
"I suppose asking 'Why?' would be pretty stupid," said Jim with a sigh.  "It's 
something that's always been this part of me.  Not something I shared often, 
but always there.  It's not a shock to *me*; I wish it wasn't a shock to 
everyone else, too." 
 
"I'm sorry, I'm making this hard for you."  Blair leaned back into the couch 
and closed his eyes.  "You know, I woke up this morning thinking it would be 
just another day." 
 
"It is," said Jim.  "And tomorrow will be just another day, too.  Except that 
we'll be together." 
 
Blair finished his pizza and licked his fingers clean.   
 
"Can I keep going through this?" he asked, gesturing at the box. 
 
Jim looked at it.  "Yeah, sure.  It's okay...I just wanted to be here, so that 
you would know the real story behind stuff, and not get half-stories, like 
from reading David's letters." 
 
"I really am sorry about that..." 
 
"Shush," said Jim.  "You shouldn't have done that...but if you hadn't...  
Well, it doesn't bear thinking about." 
 
Blair piled a couple of letters next to the box and pulled out another 
picture. "Who's this?" he asked 
 
Jim leaned closer to look at it, even though they both knew he didn't need to.  
"Oh my god.  That's me and Jonathan.  Just look at that hair!" 
 
Blair snickered.  "I was looking at the clothes.  That's what was in  
fashion in..." 
 
"1979," said Jim.  "It was 1979.  I didn't know I had this in there either.  
Maybe it *is* time to go through this box." 
 
"Did Carolyn ever know?  I mean, about your past?" 
 
Jim paused and then nodded. "I did tell her a little.  She wasn't very happy 
about it so I stopped."  He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant even though it 
was patently clear that Carolyn's reaction had hurt him.  "She did eventually 
meet David, but they didn't get on well at all.  David didn't think much of 
her, thought I could do a lot better.  Carolyn never said as much but I 
imagine she felt the same.  You know, when you first came to the station, she 
thought that you and I...and then when you moved in here...  Well, there was 
no convincing her otherwise after that." 
 
"You mean she thought that me...and you...?  All along?  Oh, *man*.  Did 
anyone else ever think that?  *Does* anyone else think that?" 
 
Jim shifted uncomfortably.  "I always kept that picture, even though the rest 
got boxed up and put into storage." 
 
"Jim?  *Do* they?" 
 
Jim couldn't answer right away.  "Blair, are you sure you want this?  Us? 
*Really* sure?" 
 
"Yes," he said, quietly but firmly.  "Please, tell me." 
 
"All right," he said.  "There are always people speculating about us.  I 
thought Simon was going to ask me point blank once--man, I thought someone had 
outed me to him or something!"  He tapped his fingers against the table, 
unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say next.  "If he ever does ask 
me...I'd like to tell him yes." 
 
"You would?" 
 
"*If* he asks me, and I don't know that he will.  Brown and Taggert like to 
gossip about us but I think it's mostly a joke with them.  A couple people who 
don't know us, in other departments, have sort of assumed that we're together.  
I, uh, kinda thought you knew some of that was going on.  Even though we've 
never actually talked about it." 
 
"Jim...isn't being out at the station, like, a *bad* idea?" 
 
"Simon isn't inclined to gossip." 
 
"Yeah, I know, but..." 
 
"I'm not going to do anything to cause trouble.  You're looking for problems 
where there are none--we've just got to take this as it comes.  Can you do 
that?" 
 
"Like we have any other choice," sighed Blair.  It would have been impossible 
not to notice Blair's flagging energy or the doubts and fears that continued 
to creep into his expression.  "I'm gonna go to my room, Jim.  Maybe read a 
book or something.  Clear my head.  This is all coming at me pretty hard." 
 
Jim leaned over and kissed him softly.  "Anything I can do?" 
 
"Just be here when I come back, okay?" 
 
"I will," promised Jim.  He watched as Blair stopped by the dining room  
table and glanced up the stairs briefly before continuing to his room.  
"It's okay if you want to," he said quietly, nodding his head towards his 
loft. 
 
Blair thought about it and shook his head.   
 
"Thanks, Jim, but not just yet."  Sighing almost imperceptibly, he went into 
his bedroom and closed the door. 
 
Almost as soon as he was out of sight, Jim let out the breath he felt like 
he'd been holding forever.  Whatever his plans for the evening had been, they 
certainly hadn't included *this*.  Blair's confrontation hadn't just taken him 
by surprise, it had turned him upside down and inside out, making him face 
things that, in all likelihood, neither of them was ready for.  He could only 
hope he'd dealt with it reasonably well.  Not just the coming out part, but 
the confession of Blair's feelings and his reciprocation of them.  Dealing 
with things gently wasn't exactly his forte. 
 
It hadn't come out at all smoothly--his time with David, which they had barely 
*begun* to cover, his other experience, his feelings. //Feelings?  Where did 
*those* pop up from?  I thought I had them safely buried under male bonding 
rituals.//  Blair had seemed both fascinated and confused, and once they had 
kissed, more than a little uneasy too.  //Okay, I know what kind of image I 
project, but Blair sees past that bullshit in everyone else.  Why couldn't he 
have seen past it in me this time?// 
 
He leaned forward on the couch, drawn to the box that still sat there 
invitingly.  //This was what started it all.  What in hell possessed me to 
leave all that stuff lying around?  Did I *want* him to find out, after all 
these months of so carefully concealing a huge portion of my life?//  He had 
never been ashamed of it, just especially attuned to the hardships of being an 
out bisexual male in *his* world. 
 
He glanced towards Blair's door and listened for the sounds of his heart rate 
and breathing that would tell him whether Blair was awake or falling asleep.  
He was awake, moving around restlessly on his bed as if trying to get 
comfortable and not finding any way to do it.  Jim could even hear those 
sounds with regular hearing.  
 
He wasn't sure how to feel about what was happening between him and Blair.  He 
wanted it--God, did he want it!--but he didn't know if Blair was really ready 
for a relationship with another man.  It wasn't as if Blair was some naive 
kid, but there was more than a little questioning of your own identity when 
you're coming out, especially later in life, and it seemed that Blair wasn't 
going to be spared any of it. 
 
It had been so long ago now for him, and he tried to remember what he had felt 
and what he had done, what he had wanted to talk about and know the most.  But 
coming out to yourself in the late seventies was a *lot* different than now, 
and coming out when you were sixteen was different than when you were twenty-
eight.  It was hard for him to find the right things to say.  Blair was the 
one who had told Jim that he wanted to be with him; Jim had to take that as a 
good sign.  The only thing to do now was to take it nice and slow and do 
whatever he could to make things easier.  That kind of patience wasn't 
something that Jim had ever been good at. 
 
He had to somehow shove that military Jim aside and try to be someone he had 
been a long time ago.  For Blair, he was willing to try.  He listened again 
and found that Blair's breathing had begun to even out and slow; he was 
getting some rest. 
 
Beginning to pick through the box, he set aside some of the pictures, smiling 
a little at many of them, and pulled out a leather-bound book he knew was in 
there.  He debated with himself whether to show it to Blair or not--he'd 
already claimed that showing your journal to a lover was a bad idea--but this 
one wasn't full of sexual conquests, it was full of questions and concerns and 
secret loves and everything else that a teenage boy just trying to figure 
himself out wants to write down but rarely does.  He had never shown this to 
anyone else before in his life, hadn't even opened the cover himself in more 
years than he cared to count. 
 
He set the book on the couch next to him and vowed to think about it a little 
more before he did anything.  Doing the wrong thing right now might have 
*serious* repercussions.  There were things in this box that *he* wanted to 
look at again, and not just because of everything that had happened in the 
last couple of hours.  There were a lot of memories there--good and bad--and 
he was ready to deal with more of them every day. 
 
His adult life so far--first the military, then the police force--hadn't 
seemed to leave him much room to be himself, but he was beginning to see that 
maybe the two things didn't have to be mutually exclusive.  He wasn't going to 
bring his personal life into the station--doing that with Carolyn had been 
such a mistake--but maybe he could *have* a personal life again that didn't 
consist of dark rooms and back alleys. 
 
Sean--the guy he met at the gym--was supposed to be the first step to doing 
that, but now, with Blair, it was going to be so much better.  Scarier and 
more meaningful, but better.  The thought of telling Simon still unnerved him, 
despite what he had told Blair, but if it came down to it, he would tell him 
rather than lie.  He hated lying, especially to his friends, but he had come 
to terms with who he was a long time ago and damned if he was going to let 
anyone continue to take that away from him. 
 
A piece of paper sticking out halfway down the pile caught his attention.  He 
pulled it out and began to glance over it.  It had been from David, like most 
of the things in the box were, and Jim laughed when he remembered where it had 
come from.  All the way through sophomore year, when they had just started 
going out, Jim and David had passed little notes to one another in a sociology 
class, with Hannah always seated between them.  Jim had kept every one.  Every 
so often he thought about just throwing them all out, but he had never been 
able to bring himself to do it.   
 
~~~~~ 
Dear Jim (aka sweetcheeks) 
 
We still on for tonight?  I've been looking forward to it *all* day.   
I've got everything we need, at least according to the book.   
 
love and kisses 
D 
~~~~~ 
 
Jim laughed aloud, remembering that day and especially that night.  He didn't 
blush about it anymore, didn't blush about *anything*, but...it had been 
something else.  He flattened the paper carefully and lay it on top of the 
pile, digging into the box again. 
 
Looking through the reams of letters, Jim realized that there were a lot more 
awkward questions that Blair could have asked...was *going* to ask...and was 
grateful he had a little time to think about how to answer them.  It had been 
*how* long since he'd last been with a guy?  Jim had to think about it.  Six 
months at least since he'd slept with anyone...about a year since he'd had any 
real relationship, and even it had been rather furtive and covert.  He was 
good at that. 
 
Blair had never caught on to any of them, and Michael had gotten tired of 
always being left hanging because Jim needed to get home to his roommate.  
"Since when does a 34-year-old cop need a 27-year-old roommate?" he'd asked, 
and Jim didn't have a good answer for him. 
 
His glance slipped towards Blair's door again.  There was just so much still 
ahead of them, and a lot of it was going to be really hard.   He decided not 
to try anything that Blair didn't initiate, at least not without talking about 
it first.  For the first while he wanted to be careful, about everything.  
This relationship meant more to him than, well, anything had in a long while.   
 
Jim stood up from the couch and walked over to Blair's door.  Pausing for a 
moment to reflect on the morality of walking into Blair's room uninvited, he 
pushed open the door anyway and stepped up to the edge of the bed.  Blair was 
sprawled across it on his stomach, still fully clothed, his hair fanned out in 
all directions.  The expression on his face wasn't peaceful, as Jim had hoped.  
Worry lines creased his forehead and his mouth was set in a frown. 
 
He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Blair's ear so that he 
could see his face more clearly.  He wished there was something he could do 
that would help, and began stroking his face lightly, trying to smooth out the 
lines. 
 
It helped a little, but Blair stirred restlessly.  There was nothing to be 
done about the frown.  Careful not to wake him, he slipped out of the room 
again and closed the door.  It was barely past ten in the evening, but Blair 
had already had an emotionally exhausting day.  So had he, really.  Instead of 
feeling exhausted, though, he felt energized.  A giant weight hadn't been 
dumped on him; it had been lifted.  He only wished that there was someone he 
could talk to about it all. 
 
Of course there was always the man who had started it all--David--but Jim had 
no idea where he was.  Besides, what would he say to him.  "Hi David, you've 
finally been replaced in my life."  No, that didn't cut it.  He sat down again 
and stared at the phone.  Michael maybe?  They hadn't broken up on bad 
terms...the circumstances just hadn't been right for them. 
 
And Michael was a cop too, understanding intimately the need for discretion.  
He'd assumed once that Jim and Blair had already been sleeping together, but 
Jim had set him straight real fast.  Blair had been a roommate, nothing more.   
He might actually be pleased to find out that Jim and Blair had finally taken 
that step.  The decision was made when he remembered that Michael was now in a 
long-term relationship with a local lawyer.  In the absence of anyone besides 
former lovers to call, he was the best choice. 
 
With a surprisingly shaky hand Jim dialed Michael's number, still from memory.  
He got the machine.  "Shit, Michael, you always did have that great timing.  
It's Jim...just calling to talk.  I know it's been-- 
 
"Jamie?" 
 
Jim was startled for a moment by his interrupted message, quickly realizing 
that Michael had picked up.   
 
"Hey Michael, how are you doing?" 
	 
"Me?  I'm doing great."  He waited for Jim to say something further.  "Is 
something wrong?" 
 
"Wrong?  No, just thinking." 
 
"Well, you called to chat, man.  So chat!  What's on your mind?" 
 
"Mmm...a lot of things," said Jim, not intending to be evasive but succeeding 
nonetheless.  "How are you and Gregory doing?" 
 
"Doing great, we got a condo together and we're moving in next month actually.  
I don't suppose we can count on you to lift a little furniture, could we?" 
 
Jim grinned to himself, even though he knew Michael couldn't see.  "Just tell 
me when and where and I'll be there." 
 
"Good...so you haven't called in a month, Jim.  What's going on?  And do *not* 
give me that Ellison 'nothing' bullshit.  Got me?" 
 
"Loud and clear," said Jim.  "You, um, remember Blair?" 
 
Michael snorted.  "How the hell could I forget Blair?" 
 
"Well, I left some stuff out and...well...he knows, now.  About me.  About us, 
too.  About a lot of things." 
 
Jim heard Michael's swift intake of breath.  "Wow, I figured on you keeping it 
from him forever.  That closet of yours was pretty deep." 
 
"That's not the whole story." 
 
"Yeah."  Jim could almost hear him nodding.  "I guessed as much." 
 
"I think we're together now." 
 
"Together?  As in *together* together?" 
 
"Yeah." 
 
"What the hell do you mean 'You *think*'?" 
 
"I mean...we *are* together.  But..." 
 
"Out with it." 
 
"Blair isn't bi.  Wasn't bi.  Didn't know he was bi." 
 
"Oh, that's a problem." said Michael succinctly.  "You put the moves on him 
anyway?" 
 
"I did *not* put the moves on him." 
 
"Okay.  I'm waiting..." 
 
Jim sighed.  "It was him.  When he found out--he found out about David, not 
you--it seemed okay at first.  I mean, he was asking questions and all, but 
who wouldn't.  And he *is* an anthropologist.  But I brought up maybe seeing 
someone...and he--" 
 
"He *what*?" 
 
"He told me that he didn't want me seeing someone else.  That he wanted to be 
with me." 
 
"Okay..." said Michael.  "I'm really failing to see where the problem is.  
That's great!" 
 
"What do you mean, you're failing to see where the problem is?  Michael, he's 
never fallen for a guy before.  That has a hell of a lot of implications 
behind it...and it's not something I've had to handle in a *long* time." 
 
Michael paused.  "You want me to come over, Jamie?  I'm not doing anything 
that can't wait, and you sound like you really need to talk about this." 
 
Jim looked at the half-full pizza box and thought about the beer in the  
fridge.   
 
"Could you?" 
 
"I'll be there in ten minutes, hang tight.  Is Blair there with you?" 
 
"He's asleep," said Jim.  "Probably will be for a while--he's a little 
stressed out over everything." 
 
"All right.  Be right there." 
 
Jim was impatient for Michael to arrive.  Now that he'd decided to go through 
with this and talk to someone--talk to *Michael*--he wanted to be doing it 
already.  He knew his ex-lover could be relied upon to get there as soon as he 
could, so he pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge and checked on Blair 
briefly before settling down in the living room again. 
 
Michael let himself into the building and knocked on the door exactly 10 
minutes later.  "It's open," Jim called out, then winced and listened to make 
sure that Blair was still asleep.  The other cop walked into the room and 
enveloped Jim in a hug.   
 
"Nice mess you've gotten yourself into, Jamie," he said as he made himself at 
home and grabbed a beer. 
 
"Gee, thanks."  Jim watched as Michael took over the loft, the way he had 
every other time he'd been in it.  It was hard to believe it was almost a year 
ago now since the last time he'd been over as Jim's lover, and about four 
months ago since the last time he'd been over at all. 
 
"So tell me how this all happened.  I've never known you to be careless about 
this stuff.  Hell, I was surprised you didn't have a lock on your closet all 
this time it was in there." 
 
"I'm not," said Jim, holding his head in his hands.  "I don't know what got 
into me.  Stuff like this, I don't leave lying around." 
 
"Ah, so you wanted him to know.  You just hadn't anticipated his reaction to 
knowing." 
 
"Mike, I don't think *he* anticipated his reaction to knowing." 
 
"And that, my dear, is the whole crux of the problem, isn't it." 
 
"Mike..." Jim sighed.  "Yes, it is.  What do I do for him?  He's twenty-eight 
years old and *just* discovering he's bisexual.  The kid used to have women in 
this place practically every day of the week...this has got to be hitting him 
pretty hard." 
 
"Maybe not...maybe he's fine with it." 
 
"Trust me, he's not.  And me just ready to maybe--maybe--crack open the closet 
door." 
 
"Like I said, a fine mess." 
 
"I don't need an echo, Mike, I need advice.  What do I do for him?" 
 
"What *can* you do for him except be there?  Listen and hold him and made sure 
that he's doing okay.  That part of it, it's about *him*, not you.  You should 
know that." 
 
"Yeah, I should.  But I was *sixteen years old* when I went through this.  Do 
you know how many years ago that was?" 
 
"Do you really want me to answer that, Jamie?" 
 
Jim had to grin, just a little.  "But you get what I'm saying." 
 
"Yeah, I get what you're saying, Jim.  And you think there's some sort of 
answer that will solve it all.  Come on, man, you've lived in this world as 
long as I have; there are no easy answers and damned if I'm going to delude 
you by saying that there are." 
 
"You're a comfort." 
 
"Did you want me to be?  Is that why you called?" 
 
Jim shook his head.  "No.  I'm just out of my element here.  He's hurting, and 
I don't know what to do." 
 
"Jim, *he* is the one that is going to have to work that out.  Not you." 
 
"I know." 
 
"Do you?  I knew how you felt about him back when you were sleeping with *me*, 
even though you did everything you could to deny it to both of us.  You want 
to protect him from the evil world.  I hate to tell you, but you're S.O.L. 
there.  And what's more, he doesn't need you to." 
 
"Then what do I *do*?" 
 
"Take it slow!  *Wait* for him.  Let him talk and tell him anything he wants 
to know.  If he needs space, give him space.  If he needs to be with you, then 
let him.  Until he's comfortable, let him be the one to run the show.  Like I 
said, Jamie--no miracles.  Can I have some of that pizza?" 
 
"Huh?  Oh, sure, help yourself." 
 
"So..." said Michael from the living room.  "That does it for Blair.  Now what 
about you?" 
 
"Huh?" 
 
"I believe the phrase was 'cracking open the closet door' was it not?  When 
did *that* happen?" 
 
"Maybe that was a slight exaggeration," admitted Jim.  "I was just 
thinking...well, thinking of being more like you.  Not afraid." 
 
Michael laughed.  "Not afraid?  We're all afraid, Jamie." 
 
"You know what I mean.  Willing to keep on, you know, living your life  
without worrying if someone will find out." 
 
"I worry...I just don't let it stop me.  If I did, I wouldn't have anything in 
my life but my work..." 
 
"...like I did." finished Jim.  "I'm not like that anymore." 
 
Michael smiled.  "I've seen the kid working his charms on you at the station,  
even if we don't cross paths all that often.  I'm surprised it's taken this 
long.  Then again, maybe I'm not.  Not if he's never...he's really never?" 
 
Jim nodded. 
 
"You sure know how to pick 'em." 
 
Jim laughed at himself.  "Tell me about it.  More beer?" 
 
"I'll get it," offered Michael, still standing.  "You're avoiding the 
subject." 
 
"I am?" 
 
"Yeah, you're talking about me, and you're talking about Blair, and you're 
*not* talking about you.  Your subconscious mind works in mysterious ways, 
Jamie.  You left that stuff out so that Blair could find it, and you called me 
so that I could drag whatever you're feeling out of you.  So spill.  There's 
lots of beer and I have all night." 
 
Jim sighed heavily.  "I don't know what I'm feeling." 
 
"Bullshit." 
 
"I don't!  Come on, Mike, don't pin some kind of blind stereotype on me.  I 
know what I feel for Blair--that's easy enough to know--but I don't know what 
*I'm* feeling.  Relief at him knowing?  A little, even though I thought my 
heart was gonna stop when David's name passed his lips.  It was like the world 
was in slow motion.  What about fear?  I guess.  But I'm not sure what exactly 
I'm afraid of in all this.  Love?  I know I love him.  And I know he loves me.  
There's not a lot of confusion there." 
 
"You know, you *are* allowed to feel more than one thing at once..." 
 
"Yeah, I *know*, Mike.  Tell me again why I invited you over?" 
 
"Cause right now I'm one of the best friends you've got," he said baldly, 
challenging Jim to tell him he was wrong.  Jim couldn't.  "Care if I add a 
couple of things to that list?" 
 
Jim shrugged.  "Could I stop you?"  
 
"No," he said bluntly.  "You, my friend, are scared out of your *mind*." 
 
"Like hell!" 
 
"I *know* you, Jamie.  Here you are, all ready to maybe start having a life 
again.  And then you come out, however unintentionally, to your roommate who, 
in *my* opinion, should have figured it out a long time ago.  Then, on top of 
*that*, he tells you that *he* wants to be with *you*.  So now you are so 
scared you're just locking everything down in typical Ellison fashion." 
 
Jim was silent. 
 
"So you admit it?  Good.  That's more than you ever did for me."  Jim began a 
token protest but Mike cut him off.  "Shh, don't bother denying it.  We had a 
great time, Jamie, but we're long over it, and we both know we're much better 
off where we are now.  Or will be.  So you're scared, so what are you going to 
do about it?" 
 
Jim shrugged and gave Mike a questioning look, as though he really didn't know 
the answer to that.   
 
"Talk to you?" 
 
Mike laughed.  "Yeah, great answer.   Just...spend time with Blair.  Don't 
worry about any of the other shit until he's cool with it, okay?  And knowing 
what I do of him, it won't be too long." 
 
"Mike, there's more to him than most people ever get to see.  Yeah, he adapts 
well, and *fast*, but...this is different." 
 
"Yeah, it is," came Blair's voice from behind them. 
 
Jim spun around to see Blair standing in his bedroom doorway, looking rumpled 
with sleep.   
 
"Blair!" 
 
"I can't believe you," he said, shaking his head. 
 
Jim stood up and went over to him, but Blair refused his embrace.   
 
"Blair, please...I needed someone to talk to about this." 
 
"I leave you for an hour and already you have someone else in here, Jim?  
Why?" 
 
"That's *not* what this is, Blair.  Mike is..." 
 
"An 'old friend'?" asked Blair sarcastically. 
 
"Yes, Blair, he is an former *lover*.  Former. And he's someone I trust  
implicitly.  Come on, I know you're hurting, but please don't take it out on 
me right now.  You know how I feel about you...and if you don't...  Well, if 
you don't, I don't know." 
 
Blair wrapped his arms around himself.  "I wasn't ready to deal with someone 
else knowing, Jim," he said, more of an admission than an accusation. 
 
"I'm sorry.  *I* had to do this.  Do you..."  He gestured to the living room.  
"Do you want to join us?" 
 
Blair shook his head.  "I don't think so, Jim.  I just...I just called up a 
friend of mine, when I heard you two out here.  He's going to be here in a few 
minutes." 
 
"Blair?" 
 
"I need to get out of here.  Maybe I'm going to talk, maybe I'm not.  I don't 
know."  He reached out to touch Jim's cheek briefly.  "I'll be back," he 
added, then glanced toward Michael.  "Couldn't you have waited...at least told 
me first?" 
 
Jim shook his head.  "No.  I needed this, Blair.  Please understand." 
 
Blair sighed.  "I understand.  I'm just..." 
 
"I know," said Jim.  "I know.  This friend...you trust him?" 
 
Blair mouth twisted into a half-smile.  "Implicitly." 
 
"From...school?" 
 
He nodded.  "Just someone I know...the only person I could think to call right 
now.  I just need a little bit of distance.  I'm sorry." 
 
Jim shook his head.  "Don't be sorry, Blair.  Be home soon?" 
 
"I, uh, guess I'll be home when we're done.  I honestly don't know.  But I 
will be home tonight."  He reached out and brushed a thumb across Jim's lips.  
"I promise." 
 
Jim nodded.  "And we'll talk...together?" 
 
"Yeah...I *am* sorry, Jim.  I am." 
 
"Please, don't be sorry, Blair.  It's okay." 
 
A knock at the door interrupted them and with a last, wide-eyed look at Jim, 
Blair went to it and slipped out without another word. 
 
Jim took two steps forward and stared at Michael.   
 
"Did I just let him go?" he said, surprised to find that he was shaking. 
 
Michael nodded.  "Yeah, you did.  And you did the right thing.  A trapped 
Blair is an unhappy Blair, you always said."  He looked at his former lover 
sympathetically.  "It ain't easy, is it."  He sat down on the couch and 
motioned for Jim to sit next to him, putting a friendly arm around him when he 
did.  "Blair probably needs someone to talk to, too," he said. 
 
Jim nodded, his voice distant.  "Yeah, I know, that's why I let him go..." 
 
While Mike puzzled over Jim's absent state, Jim followed the conversation as 
Blair and his friend walked down the stairs and got into his car.  The first 
words out of Blair's mouth had been to ask his friend how his relationship 
with Rob was going, and the response had been that things were fabulous.   
 
He wasn't worried...much.  The *last* thing on Blair's mind right now--and 
probably ever--would be to screw around with another guy.  He was glad that 
Blair had someone to go to, even if it was someone that Jim had never met.  
Besides, Blair and Michael had only met once; he could hardly expect Blair to 
want to stay there with them right now.  He'd *promised* to come back tonight, 
and Blair never broke promises he didn't have to. 
 
"Earth to Jim." 
 
Jim came back to a hand waving in his face.   
 
"Huh?" 
 
"Thought we'd lost you there.  Are you all right? 
 
Jim shook it off.  "I'm all right," he lied. 
 
"Blair is going to be fine," said Michael, out of the blue.  "Don't worry 
about Blair right now.  Blair is doing exactly what you are doing." 
 
"Christ, Mike, we've only been together a few *hours* and already we're in 
crisis." 
 
Michael actually laughed.  "Crisis, Jim?  I know you're stressed, but this is 
no crisis.  This is...jitters.  Have some more beer." 
 
"He couldn't have talked to me?  He was talking to me before..." 
 
"No, Jim, he *couldn't* talk to you," he explained patiently.  "You're too 
close to the situation.  Think for more than two seconds and you'll know it's 
true." 
 
"I know that," said Jim firmly. "I know that." 
 
"Good," said Michael.  "Just relax a little and it'll all work out all right." 
 
Jim tried. 

 
<<<<< END PART I >>>>>