THE WAY THE WORLD ENDS
PART III

by Rrain Prior

 
 
Jim woke still surprised to find Blair in his arms, but it wasn't just that 
Blair was there, it was that he was awake and doing things that Jim had never 
expected to wake and find him doing.   
 
"Blair?" he mumbled sleepily, feeling his shirt being pulled out of the 
waistband of his jeans and pushed up his chest. 
 
"Don't...don't do anything Jim," said Blair softly.  "Just let me...I want to 
touch you, just a little.  I want to feel what it's like." 
 
"I don't mind."  He shifted a little so that his partner could pull the shirt 
up and over his head.  Blair's fingers danced over the hard planes of Jim's 
chest, tracing his pecs and his collarbones and the line that ran from his 
neck right down his torso to his waist.  Jim closed his eyes and tried not to 
want more than he could have.  The early morning light was just peeking  
through the curtains on his window--only a couple hours for him to decide what 
he would be doing with his day, and he wanted to spend that entire time in bed 
with Blair.  Forgetting. 
 
Blair's lips began to follow his hands, tracing around the edges of Jim's neck 
then down to capture one nipple, suckling on it tenderly.  Jim let a moan 
escape his lips, the feelings that were coursing through his body so familiar 
yet so new.  This was Blair.  As though he could hear Jim thinking his name, 
Blair looked up and then wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on 
Jim's chest.  "I'm sorry--I shouldn't start anything I'm not ready to finish." 
 
Jim just reached out and ran a hand repeatedly through his lover's lush hair, 
reveling in the texture of it.  It felt so right to him to have Blair there--
he could only hope that his roommate would feel that way soon, too.  It just 
wasn't fair, that they should be so close to having what they wanted and have 
it almost ruined by some ex-lover with a grudge and an agenda. 
 
"That's okay," he said softly, exercising every ounce of his self-control.  
"We have plenty of time." 
 
Blair kissed Jim's lips sweetly, just once, then got up out of the bed. 
 
"Blair?" 
 
"I'm gonna make breakfast," he said in explanation. "I've got to make 
breakfast for us today, okay?" 
 
Jim nodded, breathing deeply.  "I understand," he said sincerely.  "I'll be 
downstairs soon.  I love you." 
 
Blair turned back at the sound of that and smiled.  "I love you, too." 
 
Jim sat down to a meal of scrambled eggs, bacon, juice, coffee, toast, and any 
number of condiments.  It was extravagant, and it was what was keeping Blair 
sane. 
 
"I think I'm going to head in early," he said to him, more to make 
conversation than to give Blair any new information. 
 
"Yeah?" 
 
"It'll be easier to, you know, already be there when people start to straggle 
in.  I didn't get anything done yesterday; I need to get cracking before I 
give them a *reason* to take my job." 
 
"Yeah, I know what you mean," agreed Blair casually.  "I'm going to head into 
my office this morning, try and get some stuff caught up.  I know I was 
supposed to go in to the station today..." 
 
"That's not such a good idea right now." 
 
"I couldn't even do it if you begged me, Jim.  I'm sorry...it's gonna be hard 
enough just going in to the university." 
 
Jim nodded, gulping back his juice.  "I know, honey." 
 
"Honey?" repeated Blair. 
 
Jim almost--almost--blushed.  "Sorry.  Slipped." 
 
"Jim...when did you first, you know, start to tell people?  Who was the first 
person you told?" 
 
Jim had almost gotten used to those little questions, seemingly coming out of 
nowhere.  No matter how he answered them, the questions said more about 
Blair's state of mind then the answers did about his. 
 
"A friend," he said.  He hesitated before going on with the rest of the 
answer.  "A friend who proceeded to beat the crap out of me."  He shrugged off 
the memories that surrounded that. "I thought I'd written about that in my 
journal; maybe I didn't.  Well, I guess you can see why." 
 
"Did anything *good* happen to you in high school?" 
 
Jim smiled.  "Jonathan.  Jonathan happened." 
 
"Ah.  I haven't gotten to that part yet." 
 
"I know." 
 
Jim finished off the meal and got up to go.   
 
"Do you need help cleaning this all up?" 
 
"Nah, you go ahead.  I can handle this.  See you at dinnertime?" 
 
"I'll be counting the minutes," said Jim and the words weren't even romantic, 
they were desperate.  He took his jacket off the hook and, with a single look 
back, left the apartment. 
 
<><><><><><><><><><> 
 
The drive to the station was the single longest thing Jim had ever endured, 
yet it wasn't long enough.  He pulled into the garage and had to take three 
long, deep breaths before he even had the nerve to get out of the truck.  The 
place wasn't busy, not yet, but it wasn't deserted either.  "Mr. Ellison!  Mr. 
Ellison!"  Jim spotted the reporters coming his way before they had a chance 
to intercept him and ducked into the building quickly, foregoing the elevator 
and taking the stairs two at a time up to Major Crime. 
 
He was careful not to look anyone in the eye as he made his way to his desk 
and sat down, laying down his files in a neat pile.  He stared at them 
unseeingly for a moment, then picked up the phone instead of trying to get 
anything done.  Besides the other hundred-and-one other calls that he had to 
return at some point, he still had to get ahold of Carolyn.  Flicking his eyes 
at the clock, he knew that she would already be at her station and working.  
Probably had been there for an hour already. 
 
The officers that were already in the bullpen were, for the most part, 
studiously ignoring him.  Jim did the same to them.   
 
"Carolyn Plummer, how can I help you?" 
 
"Carolyn? 
 
"Jim!" 
	 
"You called?" 
 
"I called more than once, Jimmy.  What's going on there?" 
 
"It's kinda crazy here right now, Caro.  Sorry I didn't call you back, I just 
wanted to crawl into bed and hide for a week." 
 
"I get the Cascade papers here, Jimmy.  I called as soon as I saw.  Do you 
know who...?" 
 
"It was David." 
 
Carolyn used a few curses Jim didn't even know she knew.  "I told you he was 
no good, Jimmy.  I *told* you--" 
 
"Don't."  Jim interrupted her.  "Just don't, Caro.  I don't need to hear that 
right now.  It doesn't matter; what's done is done." 
 
"I've got some time off coming to me if you need me there..." she offered. 
 
"I'm coping." 
 
"I just wanted you to know there was *someone* on your side, Jimmy.  And I'll 
stand down any cop who says you can't do you job now." 
 
Jim smiled.  "I know you would." 
 
"I wanted to make sure you hadn't gone and done something stupid, too.  How's 
that kid you live with taking the news?  Or is he even still around?" 
 
"Blair isn't a kid." 
 
"I stand corrected.  How's Blair?" 
 
"Blair's all right.  We're both doing okay, but there are reporters just 
*crawling* all over the place.  Makes everything a little weird."  He hoped 
she wouldn't push him to actually answer the question, hoped she knew him well 
enough to know when something was too sensitive or complicated to get into. 
 
"It'll die down," she assured him.  "You'll call if you need anything?" 
  
"I will, Caro.  I just...I need to deal with this.  I need to get everything 
back to normal around here." 
 
"Uh huh...talk to you in, oh, a year?" 
 
He chuckled a little.  "I'll call you tomorrow, all right?  Don't you dare 
come up here.  You come up here and we'll get in a fight and that'll just be 
one more thing to deal with.  And you know it." 
 
"You take care of yourself, Jimmy." 
	 
"Always do." 
 
Jim hung up the phone with a mild feeling of regret; talking to Carolyn had 
just delayed his having to deal with his immediate surroundings, with being 
back at the station.  He resisted the strong temptation to listen in on the 
whispered conversation that was coming from another corner of the room.  It 
might be about him, it might not, but what good would it do him to know? 
 
To keep his mind off of everything, he opened the first file.  Right on top 
was a note from Blair.  "Dear Jim,  I know it's gonna be a bad day.  I'm 
freaked too, it's okay.  I love you.  B." 
 
Jim smiled.   
 
"Ellison!"  He looked up to see Simon bearing down on him.  "You were supposed 
to call me." 
 
"I'm sorry, sir.  I turned my phone off." 
 
"You didn't check the messages?" 
 
"Blair checked them." 
	 
"And he didn't tell you I'd called?" 
 
Jim sighed.  "I didn't want to talk to anyone last night." 
 
"Well you damn well better be ready to talk to someone now." 
 
"Does this have anything to do with my job, sir?" 
 
Simon ran a hand over his face.  "No.  This has to do with you and me, Jim.  
My office, now." 
 
Jim stood up.  "I'll take that as a request, not an order," he said, and 
followed Simon into the room stiffly, ignoring the blatant curiosity on the 
face of every detective in the bullpen. 
 
"Sit down." 
 
"Is that an order?" 
 
"No, that is *not* an order.  Now sit down." 
 
Jim sat.  "Look, Simon, I've had a really long day and a really long night.  I 
can't leave my apartment, I can't even answer my *phone* anymore.  What is it 
that you needed to see me so urgently about?" 
 
"I never said it was urgent." 
 
"Simon, if you pull a baseball bat out from behind that desk, so help me God I 
will *not* be responsible for what I do to you." 
 
"Don't be an idiot, Jim." 
 
Jim didn't respond. 
 
"I wanted to do this last night, not now, not here." 
 
"What is it we're doing here?" 
 
"Look, I want you on my team, Jim.  You're a damn good cop and this is where 
you belong.  But I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around this.  I just 
wanted to *talk*, to *understand*.  I'm the person that everyone comes to when 
they want answers, Jim, and I need to have answers to give them." 
 
"What kind of answers are you expecting, Simon?  What more can I tell you?  
It's all out there now.  All we have to do now is just *deal* with it.  I'm 
not leaving this job, Simon--I'll fight tooth and nail for it." 
 
"All I want is to talk.  I spent most of yesterday thinking about this, you 
know.  We were friends before...I want to know if we still can be." 
 
"Well, not if you keep making stupid comments like that." 
 
"All I want is to *understand*." 
 
"I can't *make* you understand," said Jim.  "I don't know what you're asking.  
Are you asking why I like guys?  Are you asking why I wanted to be a cop?  Are 
you asking why I showed up to work yesterday?" 
 
"You just never struck me as the...*type*, Jim.  Have you *always* been...this 
way?" 
	 
"This way?" he shot back, gesturing wildly.  "You mean tall?"  He tried to 
keep the frustration out of his voice, but it was a losing battle from the 
start 
 
"I'm making an effort here," he growled. 
 
"Can't you just...why is there something to understand here?  Okay, I know, 
stupid question.  Yes, I've always been this way, if by 'this way' you mean 
bisexual.  But what does that change, Simon?" 
 
"It changes...everything!" 
 
"God, you sound just like Sandburg." 
 
"You mean he just found out too?!" 
 
Jim looked like he wasn't going to answer that for a moment, wondering if how 
he answered that single question would determine how his and Simon's 
friendship fared.   
 
"I told Blair about a week ago," he said finally, and didn't elaborate. 
 
"A week ago," repeated Simon.  "You just sort of...told him?  Just felt like 
telling *him*, who you've known for less than two years and not *me* who 
you've known for over five?" 
 
"You don't live with me, sir." 
 
"Yeah, well, thank God for that." 
 
"What's *that* supposed to mean?" 
 
"Nothing." 
 
"You know what?  I don't think I want to be here anymore.  If you'll excuse 
me..." 
 
"Sit down, Jim." 
 
"Why should I?  You call me in here and you *say* you want to understand and 
then you...and then you *insult* me.  I don't have to take this, from you or 
from anybody." 
 
"No, I don't suppose you do, do you." 
 
"No, I don't."  Jim didn't make another motion to leave, yet. 
 
"You're into *guys*, Jim?" said Simon finally.  "How could I not have known 
this?" 
 
"How exactly did you expect to know, Simon?  Did you expect me to come in one 
day wearing a dress?  What?  *What* were you expecting to notice?" 
 
"I don't *know*.  Something.  Jim, you were married..." 
 
"Do you need me to define bisexual for you, sir?" 
 
"No, no, no.  All I'm trying to do here is..." 
 
Jim sighed.  "I know what you're trying to do, Simon.  You're trying to 
understand and get comfortable with this so it'll be easier to work with me.  
You're just doing a piss-poor job of it." 
 
"Well, I'm *sorry*." 
 
"You ought to be.  This was never anyone's business.  It doesn't *matter*.  It 
doesn't matter one bit.  But now that everyone knows, suddenly there's 
something to deal with.  Like I've changed or something."  Jim shook his head.  
"Do you know how frustrating this is for me?" 
 
"No." 
 
"Well, it is." 
 
"I'll be frank here, Jim.  I've never been interested in men.  I just don't 
*get* that part of it.  It's not that I think any less of you, I just don't 
grasp it." 
 
"If that's what it is, Simon, then I don't know what to tell you."  Jim 
shrugged.  "I like women.  I like men.  No big deal...or at least it shouldn't 
be.  Now, unless there's something else, I have work to do."  Jim got up to 
leave again. 
 
"Just...one more thing." 
 
"What?" 
 
"You said that you weren't with Sandburg.  Can I quote you on that?" 
 
Jim paused.  "What I said, was that I wasn't sleeping with him." 
 
"There's a difference?" 
 
Jim debated again just what to say.  On the one hand, Blair had told him that 
he wasn't denying it.  On the other, this was the station and not the 
university.  If he'd had a third hand, he would have counted the fact that 
this was Simon and, despite everything, Simon was his friend. 
 
"Blair and I are seeing one another," he said finally.  "Now I'm telling you 
that off the record, because you *are* my friend.  We haven't been seeing one 
another long, and we aren't having sex.  Will there be anything else?"   
 
"You...are?" 
 
Jim nodded his confirmation.  "Will there be anything else, sir?" 
 
Simon shook his head, the shock of Jim's statement still on his face.  
Yesterday had been quite enough, today was too much.   
 
"I'll...talk to you later." 
 
"Very good, sir."  Jim left the office. 
 
<><><><><><><><><><> 
 
The bullpen was significantly more crowded than when Jim had gone *in* to the 
office.  Silence fell upon the room again, but he'd been expecting it this 
time.  It was why he'd wanted to be here early, so that he wouldn't be making 
some kind of an entrance.  He looked around and, instead of leaving like 
yesterday, sat down at his desk. 
 
He was surprised when, a moment later, Brown came walking over to him.  
Preparing for the worst, he steeled his nerves and looked up at him.  Brown 
didn't look threatening at all.  "You, uh, dropped this yesterday," he said, 
handing over a piece of paper. 
 
"Thanks," said Jim, reluctant to reach out to take the paper.  When he did, 
though, Brown didn't flinch. 
 
"I'm, uh, sorry about...you know, yesterday," he said awkwardly.  "It was just 
a bit of a shock, you know?" 
 
Jim simply nodded, still feeling more than a little uncharitable.   
 
"Was there anything else?" 
 
Henri looked like he was going to walk away, but then turned back to him.  
Before Jim could stop him, Brown reached out and picked up Blair's note.  
After reading it, he actually smiled.  "I kinda thought you might be 
together," he said. 
 
"Um, since when?" 
 
"Just since...after what happened yesterday," said Henri quickly.  "I mean, 
before that, no *way* I'd ever picture you with a guy."  He handed the note 
back.  "You might want to hide this.  Some of the guys, they wouldn't like it.  
You know what I'm saying?" 
 
"Yeah, I know," said Jim. 
 
"Well I'll, uh,  talk to you later.  We've still got to get together and go 
over those surveillance tapes." 
 
"I'll see if I can't book us a time," said Jim. "I'll let you know." 
 
"Yeah, uh, thanks."  Henri backed away, then turned and went back to the desk 
he shared with Rafe.  No one else approached Jim as he folded the note up 
lovingly and tucked it into a pocket, then went back to his files. 
 
Under Simon's stern eye, Jim didn't suffer any harassment that morning.  
Neither was he included in the usual camaraderie of the Major Crimes bullpen, 
and when he went to lunch, it was alone.  Henri looked like he wanted to 
invite him, but his partner took one look at Jim and pulled Brown out of there 
before he could. 
 
<><><><><><><><><><> 
 
The short alley outside the back door was dark as Blair stepped into it, 
shutting the door firmly behind him.  He looked up towards the sky and frowned 
for a moment before turning towards the street. 
 
"Hey, faggot." 
 
Blair froze. 
 
"Trying to sneak out, are you?"  The man made an abrupt, vicious noise.  
"People like you don't *deserve* a way out!" 
 
There wasn't just one set of footsteps behind him, there were two.  Too late, 
he tried to run.  The large hand grabbed his hair, jerking his head backwards 
painfully.  "Faggot," the voice growled in his ear.  "You know you deserve 
this."  He clutched his victim's hair tighter until Blair could almost feel 
the hairs pulling away from his scalp. 
 
He couldn't say a word, especially after the first blow caught him in the 
stomach.  His instinct was to double over, but he couldn't move and was forced 
to just stand there as more blows rained down on him.  He yelled when once he 
managed to catch half a breath, and immediately had a rough hand clamped over 
his mouth.  He couldn't breathe, and his eyes grew wide as panic began to set 
in.  His struggles began in earnest, but were futile against the two, much 
larger, men.  The last thing he saw before his consciousness faded was the 
glint of a switchblade descending towards him. 
 
<><><><><><><><><><> 
 
Simon hadn't been able to stand in his doorway all day, fending off hostility 
towards his star detective, so when Jim came back from a quiet lunch at a 
nearby deli, it was to a real shocker.  Everything on his desk had been swept 
onto the floor, and spray painted--spray-painted!--on the top and sides of the 
desk were the words "Get AIDS and die, fag!" 
 
He took a few calming breaths, then walked right past his desk and let himself 
into his captain's office.  Simon wasn't there, so Jim just picked up the 
phone and called station security.   
 
"Hello, I need copies of the security tapes for Major Crime, 7th floor, 
delivered to Captain Simon Banks.  ASAP, please, there's been an...incident."  
He hung up the phone with a shaking hand and collapsed in the chair of Simon's 
desk. 
 
He knew he couldn't stay in there, but neither could he deal with going back 
out into the bullpen.  Especially since everyone was acting like there was 
nothing wrong.  //It's no big deal!// his mind was screaming.  //Being bi is 
not a big deal!!//  But he knew that was the only way to convince everyone 
that *he* didn't think it was a big deal.  It would have been so different if 
he'd been able to come out on his own terms, but that was never going to 
happen now. 
 
He had to do this.  He *had* to.  Walking out of the office--and wishing more 
than anything that he at least had Blair there to support him--he starting 
picking up his things off the floor.  A few minutes later, Simon walked in and 
tapped him on the shoulder.  "What?"  Jim didn't even look up to see who it 
was, he knew. 
 
"Jim, take the rest of the day off." 
 
"Simon, no, I'm going to stick this out." 
 
"That wasn't a request, Jim, it was an order." 
 
Jim stood up.  "Why?" 
 
"Where have you been for the last hour?" 
 
"Lunch," he said, exasperated. 
 
"Lunch where?" 
 
"I went to Sam's Deli.  What's going on, Simon?" 
 
"Did anyone see you there?" 
 
"Yes...no...it was crowded.  What the hell is this all about?" 
 
Simon sighed.  "Earlier today we got some information on the group that 
planted that article in the paper.  Half an hour ago, one of them turned up 
dead.  What do you know about that, Jim?" 
 
"Dead?!  Simon, I don't know *anything* about it.  Am I a *suspect*?" 
 
Simon nodded.  "You were on the list, Jim, and after what happened to Blair 
this morning, well..." 
 
"*What* happened to Blair this morning?" growled Jim anxiously. 
 
Simon looked surprised.  "You mean you didn't get the message?" 
 
Jim grabbed Simon's shirt angrily, then took a couple more deep breaths and 
let go, clenching his fists by his sides and trying not to shout in his panic. 
 
"Simon, what are you talking about?  What happened to Blair?" 
 
"Jim, I have to relieve you of duty until we get to the bottom of this." 
 
"Forget about that!  What happened?" 
 
"Someone named Ryan called the station.  There was an...incident ...outside 
your apartment when Blair left this morning.  They were supposed to relay the 
message to you..." 
 
"Well, we all know how damn efficient they're going to be around here when it 
comes to me," said Jim angrily, slamming a pile of papers back down on his 
desk.  "How long ago did you *know* this?" 
 
"About 10 - Jim, are you listening to me?  You're under suspicion for *murder* 
here." 
 
"I've got to call Ryan, I've got to find out what happened.  Simon, I had 
nothing to do with any murder, and if you'll let me I'll do my damnedest to 
find out *who* did it.  Can I use your phone?" 
 
"Jim..." Simon sighed.  "Like I could stop you.  Go ahead." 
 
As Jim ducked back into the office, Simon looked at the remains of Jim's 
workstation in disbelief.  "Brown, Rafe," he barked out.  "Clean this mess up.  
And call supply, tell them we're going to need a new desk up here.  Now!" 
 
Brown was quick to respond, Rafe less so, and for a brief moment he seemed to 
look at the mess with a twinge of self-satisfaction. 
 
Simon quietly entered his office after Jim, in time to see him hanging up the 
phone.  He raised an eyebrow in query and was relieved to see Jim had calmed 
down considerably. 
 
"He was sleeping; Ryan says he's okay." 
 
"I'm glad." 
 
"So I'm a suspect am I?" 
 
"One of many, Jim, but people here have seen you, they know how upset you got 
over this.  You're at the top of a few lists.  I'm sorry." 
 
"Am I officially relieved of duty?" 
 
"I'm not asking for your gun and shield, Jim.  I'm just telling you to get out 
of here.  The longer you stay here, the more trouble we can get into.  They 
can say you're interfering with the investigation." 
 
Jim nodded angrily.  "Speaking of investigations," he said.  "I already 
requisitioned the surveillance tapes.  I want to know who did this, and I want 
justice.  This is a hate crime, Simon." 
 
"I know.  I'll take care of it.  You have to go, Jim." 
 
"I'm going," he said.  "Make sure my cases aren't forgotten, all right?  This 
is just bullshit.  You know where to get ahold of me." 
 
"I'll call you later." 
 
The detective left the office again and snatched up a couple of things off the 
floor before leaving the station, wondering when he was ever going to work a 
full day again. 
 
<><><><><><><><><><> 
 
Jim didn't know the way to Ryan's house, and hated himself for that.  He sat 
in his truck in the precinct parking garage and just gripped the wheel, 
resting his head against it tensely.  Wherever Blair was, he was safe, but he 
also wasn't with Jim, and that was killing the detective.  Next thing to out 
of a job, suspected of *murder*, and no one to come home to.  Could this day--
this life--get any worse?  Lifting his head, he managed to get the truck 
started and pulled out of the station. No sense sticking around there, not 
when something else could be sprung upon him.  Home, then. Home to a loft 
without Blair.  He had Ryan's number--the moment he got home he was going to 
be calling it again.  It was all he could do. 
 
He left black streaks pulling into the parking lot and racing out of the truck 
and up the stairs, trying to get safely into his apartment and away from 
prying eyes.  It felt like they were everywhere now, cameras pointing out of 
every nook and cranny.  Who would have thought his love life would be of such 
interest to the general public?  Scandal was always a big sell. 
 
He stopped dead in the hallway outside his apartment when he saw a streak of 
blood on the door handle.  He couldn't even bring himself to touch it for a 
moment.  //Blair!//  Finally he reached out and opened the door, pushing it 
inward hesitantly.  He already knew that the apartment was empty.  Not only 
could he not hear anyone, but he could just *feel* it. 
 
He dropped his things inside and closed the door, trying to direct his eyes 
away from the little spots of blood leading to Blair's room, then to the 
bathroom.  He knew that Blair was okay--Blair *was* okay--but this was doing 
nothing to reassure him.  The phone was sitting on the table, probably where 
Blair had left it.  Carefully, Jim took a paper towel and wiped it clean, then 
called Ryan's number. 
 
"Hi, is Blair up?" he said immediately with no niceties, no preamble. 
 
Ryan covered the phone with his hand and quietly asked Rob if Blair was 
around.  The answer wasn't verbal, and Jim puzzled over what might be going on 
over there.   
 
"Yeah, he's up," said Ryan finally.   
 
"Well, can I talk to him?" 
 
"I don't know if that's such a good idea." 
 
Jim fell heavily into a kitchen chair.  "What do you *mean* you don't think 
that's such a good idea?" 
 
"Think about it.  Blair was just starting to deal with his feelings for you, 
and then suddenly you were together.  Then he was just starting to deal with 
you being together and suddenly you were out.  Then he didn't even have a 
chance to start dealing with you being out, and he was bashed.  He was 
*bashed*, Jim.  Give him a little time away, will you?" 
 
"Did Blair say he didn't want to talk to me?" 
 
Ryan covered the phone again, and asked Blair if he wanted to talk to him.  He 
didn't sound happy about it.   
 
"Jim?"  He was instantly relieved to hear Blair's voice. 
 
"Blair, are you all right?" 
 
"Jim, where have you been?" 
 
Jim groaned.  "Blair, they never gave me the message; I just found out.  
Please...are you all right?  What happened?" 
 
"I tried calling your phone, but it just...made these weird noises." 
 
"The precinct cut it off...I got dozens of calls from people last night.  And 
then...well, that isn't important right now.  Blair...?" 
 
"I'm okay, Jim.  Ryan came and got me and took care of it." 
 
"I would have done that." 
 
"Jim...."  Inwardly he winced, anticipating what Blair was going to say.  "I 
just need a little space right now.  I need to get *away* from it all.  I know 
I agreed to come home, but that was before...  It's only for a couple of days, 
Jim.  Really." 
 
"Blair...God, you've got timing.  I'm at home right now--" 
 
"At home?  Why?" interrupted Blair 
 
"It's, uh, a long story.  Can I come over there and tell it to you?" 
 
"Ryan says that's not a good idea--" 
 
"Oh *fuck* Blair, since when do you listen to anyone else?"  His partner was 
silent.  "I'm sorry.  Things just...they got even worse. Okay?" 
 
Blair snorted.  "Worse?  Things can actually get *worse*?" 
 
Jim took a deep breath.  "I'm under suspicion for murder."  Blair was silent 
again.  "Blair?" 
 
"I'm at 1288 Sixteenth.  Be here in ten minutes." 
 
Jim actually smiled.  "I'm on my way." 
 
He looked at the clock for a moment, then quickly went into the bathroom and 
got a towel.  Meticulously, he cleaned up all the blood on the floor and the 
bathroom before throwing the towel away and grabbing his keys.  After another 
moment's thought, he called a cab to meet him two blocks away and slipped down 
the fire escape outside Blair's room. 
 
He pounded on the door when he got there; Ryan answered it a moment later.  
 
"Not so hard, Ellison, we heard you just fine."  Jim pushed the door open 
wider and stepped right inside. 
 
"Blair?" 
 
"I'm right here, Jim."  He stepped out of the den, and Jim got his first look. 
 
"Oh, Christ, Blair, are you all right?" 
 
"He's fine," said Ryan, but it wasn't his reassurance that Jim wanted. 
 
Blair's eye was swollen and already turning a purplish shade.  Jim could see 
the edge of a white bandage from under his sleeve and instinctively knew that 
was where the blood must have come from.  "I really am all right, Jim," said 
Blair.  "Ryan took me to the doctor and he stitched up the cut."  He lowered 
his voice to a sub-whisper.  "Don't be too hard on him, he's just worried 
about me." 
 
"Blair, hon, go sit down again," said Ryan.  "You know what the doctor said." 
 
Blair shook his head.  "No, I'm feeling okay, Ry.  Jim, tell me what's going 
on..." 
 
Ryan placed his hand lightly against Jim's back.   
 
"You come too.  He really does need to sit down." 
 
As they moved into the den, Jim launched into his story.   
 
"They came up with the name of the group that planted the news story..." 
 
"Yeah, and?" 
 
"And one of them turned up dead." 
 
"Good," said Ryan, although there was no conviction behind it. 
 
"Yeah, but they can't possibly think that *you*..." 
 
Jim shrugged.  "I don't have an alibi," he said.  "But to be honest, if Simon 
really thought it was me, I don't think I would have walked out of that 
station." 
 
"But you're still not working." 
 
"I've been 'temporarily relieved of duty'," he said.  "Blair..."  He 
tentatively reached out to touch the bruise on his lover's face.  "What 
happened?" 
 
Blair looked at Ryan, who stood up.  "Well, guess this calls for a bit of 
privacy," he said quickly.  "Blair, luv, if you need anything I'll be in the 
kitchen making lunch.  Jim, is soup and sandwiches all right?" 
 
Jim nodded absently.  "Blair?" 
 
"I, uh...I was leaving for the university," he said.  "I stepped out the back 
way and...and there was someone there...I didn't even see them...and one had a 
knife..."  Blair pulled up his sleeve carefully and peeled back the layer of 
gauze.  Jim counted sixteen stitches.   
 
"They knocked me on the head pretty hard, bashed my face..." Jim heard Blair's 
heart and respiration rates skyrocketing and lay a hand on his other arm to 
help calm him.  "They *hated* me...and they didn't even know me."  Blair 
covered his arm back up.  "Someone walked by and they ran...I made it back up 
to the apartment and called you. Then I called Ryan." 
 
"And even when Ryan called, they never gave me the message," muttered Jim 
angrily.  He reached out and took Blair into his arms.  "Thank god you're all 
right." 
 
"Yeah," said Blair.  "Whatever.  I called the university, and they're covering 
this week." 
 
Jim held him at arm's length and looked him over cautiously.   
 
"Is there anything...else? 
 
Blair shook his head sharply.  "No, just a couple of bruises.  Really, I'm all 
right, Jim.  Just...well, a little shaken up."  He took a deep breath.  "I 
want to stay here, just for a little while.  Not because Ryan wants me to, 
just...just until everything dies down a little." 
 
Jim nodded.  "You're scared...I understand." 
 
"It's not that I don't want to be with you..." 
 
"I know."  Jim's voice was solemn, and he couldn't look at him. 
 
"Shit, Jim..."  With his good arm, Blair grabbed Jim's shirt and pulled him 
towards him, kissing him deeply, frantically.  "If that doesn't convince you, 
I don't know what will." 
 
Jim smiled and kissed him again.  "I believe you.  It's just hard, Blair." 
Blair snickered involuntarily, and his partner groaned.  "I didn't mean it 
*that* way!"  They laughed, and the sound did more for Jim's spirits than 
anything else had in a long time.   
 
"Lunch!" called Ryan from the kitchen. 
 
Jim looked at his love.  "I already ate lunch...but I didn't have much of an 
appetite then.  Coming?" 
 
"Yeah.  Um...you wanna give me a hand getting up?"   
 
Jim helped Blair get to his feet, concern all over his face. 
 
"Just a bruise on my side," he explained.   
 
Jim refused to let go of his hand as they moved into the kitchen, and Ryan 
smiled seeing them together.   
 
"You done good for yourself, Blair," he said, looking more at Jim's expression 
than his physique.  He was clearly in love with Blair, of that there was no 
room for doubt.  Ryan's demeanor towards the cop softened a little. 
 
He pulled out a chair for Blair, then tugged Jim back into the hallway.   
 
"What?  What do you want *now*?" 
 
"I'm sorry," said Ryan.  "You know we both only want what's best for Blair.  I 
want you to understand that." 
 
"What's happening...it's not my fault..." said Jim.  "You seem like you're 
blaming me." 
 
Ryan shook his head.  "I'm not blaming you.  I'm blaming those idiots who are 
staking out your place, and the idiots that outed you, and all the idiots that 
still subscribe to stereotypes.  But regardless of who I blame, your place is 
not a safe place right now.  I'm sorry, sweetie, but it's the truth.  I want 
Blair here, and safe, and that's the end of it." 
 
"Isn't that Blair's decision to make?" 
 
Ryan nodded.  "I asked him, Jim.  I think you already know what he said." 
 
Jim sighed.  "Better here than a lot of places," he admitted.  "I just...I 
want him with me." 
 
"Jim, you're welcome to stay here...at least, until they catch up to you..." 
 
Jim thought about it, but shook his head in the negative.   
 
"They aren't going to chase me from my home," he said with determination. 
 
"Your choice, hon."  Ryan shrugged.  "Just wanted to make sure we both knew 
where the other was coming from.  Now come eat, you look like hell." 
 
"Jim," said Blair when they came back into the kitchen.  "Maybe you should 
stay away for a while, too.  I don't like the idea of you being there alone." 
 
"There are still a couple of people I trust," said Jim.  "I can call them up, 
see if they can't keep an eye on things.  I can't leave, though.  If I leave, 
they win.  Maybe Michael can stay, just for a little while..." 
 
"Michael?" Blair asked in a small voice. 
 
"He's a big cop, people don't mess with him.  And he's in the middle of this 
too." 
 
Blair nodded.  "Maybe you're right."  He enticed Jim to the table waving a 
sandwich in front of him.  "But I'm keeping you here for a while now that I've 
got you.  Just because I'm not going back there, doesn't mean I don't want to 
be--" 
 
"Blair, love, I *know* that," said Jim, sitting down next to him and taking 
his hand back again.  "Do what you need to do, all right?" 
 
"That's all I *can* do," said Blair, taking back his hand reluctantly to eat. 
 
Absently, Jim broke off a piece of his sandwich and fed it to Blair.   
 
"I want everything to be okay," he said.  "I don't know how to do that." 
 
"You can't," said Blair.  "I didn't want to believe that...but no one can just 
fix this.  We have to work at it."  He sighed.  "Give me two days, and I'll 
come home, okay?" 
 
Jim looked grateful for the effort.  "You don't need to give yourself 
deadlines.  It'll work out." 
 
"All right, hon," said Ryan to Jim.  "What're we going to do about this whole 
murder thing?" 
 
Jim looked at him, startled.  "We?" 
 
He shrugged.  "Well you are here, in my home, and I want this mess cleaned up.  
You're not all that safe now to begin with.  I may not know you well, but I 
know you're no murderer." 
 
Jim was thankful and suspicious at once.  "I can't do anything.  I have to 
leave this one in Simon's hands and hope that our friendship still means 
enough to him that he'll get a thorough job done.  At least until I'm back on 
the force.  They can't keep me out long, not without good reason." 
 
"You can fight it, right?" said Blair. 
 
"I will, if it goes on more than a couple of days.  Right now...it's almost a 
blessing."  Visions of his desecrated desk flashed through Jim's mind--that 
was one thing he *wouldn't* be sharing with Blair.  "I need to get some things 
in order." 
 
"Jim," said Blair quietly.  "Your work's your life." 
 
"And no one can make me stop doing it," said Jim.  "I don't need to be there 
to be on this case." 
 
"Don't go getting yourself hurt, luv," said Ryan.  "That would *seriously* 
piss me off." 
 
"Yeah, me too," said Blair.  "One of us is bad enough." 
 
"Ryan, can I make some calls from here?" asked Jim when he finished eating.  
"There are a number of people I need to get ahold of." 
 
"Like who?"  Blair toyed with his soup and hardly ate anything. 
 
"Like Simon," said Jim.  "I think he's on my side...sort of.  I wish I knew." 
 
Ryan watched Jim tense up again and tapped him on the arm.   
 
"I've got some old dishes in the basement you can go smash if you need to." 
 
Jim snorted.  "I don't think that will be necessary.  Your phone is where?" 
 
"You can use the one in the bedroom if you want privacy.  Second door." 
 
"Thanks.  You'll be all right?" he asked Blair. 
 
"As much as I ever am."  Jim didn't quite know how to take that, but he didn't 
ask. 
 
"Okay, then," said Jim, patting his good arm.  "You know where to find me,"  
 
"I know," said Blair faintly.  Jim almost didn't want to go, but being next to 
Blair was feeling awkward.  He wouldn't be that far away; nothing was going to 
happen to either one of them. 
 
Jim found the phone easily enough.  He'd been expecting the guest bedroom; 
this one belonged to Ryan and Rob.  He resisted the urge to poke around in 
their things and immediately dialed the number for Simon's office.  He 
couldn't stop his eyes from scanning the room, though, as the phone rang.  He 
wasn't sure what he was expecting to see...maybe some evidence that two men 
lived here together in some sort of domestic bliss.  He'd had that once, but 
even the memories of that were getting tainted now.   
 
"Hello?" 
 
Jim was a bit startled as Simon answered the phone 
 
"Simon," he said. 
 
"Oh, it's you, Jim.  I just called the loft, but there was no answer.  Where 
are you?" 
 
"I'm with Blair...I'm with friends.  I needed a little support right now, and 
I didn't have anywhere else to get it.  Did you check out the surveillance 
tapes?" 
 
"Yeah," said Simon, and Jim heard a heavy sigh.  "Do you want to hear it now, 
or in person?" 
 
"Now." 
 
"All right, then.  It was Buccini." 
 
"Buccini?  From Vice?" 
 
"I wondered if you knew him..." 
 
"Yeah, we worked a couple of cases together, used to go out for drinks."  
Jim's voice was flat, as though even this couldn't touch him anymore. 
 
"I don't even care about him, you know," said Simon.  "What I care about 
is...that Rafe and Hyde sat there while he did it and didn't say a word." 
 
"Oh," said Jim, his heart sinking.  "I'm not sure I wanted to hear that.  Is 
anything going to be done?" 
 
"I'll do the best I can, Jim.  That's all I can tell you." 
 
"What they did was a *crime* and I want justice." 
 
"What kind of justice, Jim?" 
 
The detective held his temper in check.  "The kind that the law gives, sir.  
No more, no less." 
 
"Good.  I can nail Buccini, no problem.  As for Rafe and Hyde...I don't know.  
They're my men, Jim." 
 
"So am I.  Or at least I thought I was." 
 
"I said I'll do what I can." 
 
"That's all I ask, sir.  What about the, um, other case?" 
 
"No leads yet; forensics is still at the scene.  You're still a suspect, at 
least officially.  I'm sorry." 
 
"No big surprise there.  Has *anyone* been eliminated yet?"  Simon was silent. 
"Simon?" 
 
"Just one." 
 
"Simon?" 
 
"We've had a report of a suicide, Jim.  I'm sorry." 
 
Jim shook his head sadly, not just because someone else had died because of 
this whole mess, but because he wasn't even surprised by the fact. 
 
"So am I, Simon.  Who was it?" 
 
"We can't release that information yet," he said. "I'll...I'll keep you 
informed Jim." 
 
"I'm sure you will," said Jim, sounding just a little patronizing. 
 
"I mean it," he said. 
 
"I'm sorry if I find that just a little hard to believe right now," said Jim.  
"You can reach me on my cell phone; I'll leave it on." 
 
"I'll call later then," said Simon.  "As soon as I find out something." 
 
"I guess I'll talk to you later," said Jim. 
 
"Goodbye." 
 
Hanging up the phone, he just sat there for a moment, not quite sure what to 
do next.   
 
"Jim?"  He looked up and saw Blair standing in the doorway of the room, 
watching him.  "Everything okay?"  Jim opened his mouth to say yes, but the 
word "no" came out.  Blair walked over, cradling his arm, and gave Jim a hug.  
"What did Simon say?" 
 
"Nothing, really," he replied.  "Nothing.  Finished lunch?" 
 
"Yeah...and I thought maybe we could spend a little, you know, time together, 
before you have to go.  I'm sorry about everything.  I don't know what to do." 
 
"Stop it, love.  Stop apologizing.  Just...sit down?" 
 
Blair sat down next to him, one arm sneaking around Jim's waist.   
 
"This still feels just a little weird you know.  Nice...but weird."  Jim put 
his own arm around his lover's shoulders and didn't answer, just held him and 
was thankful that, even after all of this, Blair was still there with him. 
 
"How do you really feel, about me staying here?" 
 
Jim was ready to give Blair a quick answer, but thought better of it.  Blair 
deserved a little thought, at the very least.   
 
"Relieved," he said finally.  "I'll miss having you with me, but it's worth it 
knowing that you aren't going to be hurt again.  I know that I'm responsible 
for what happened--" 
 
"You aren't to blame for being who you are any more than I'm responsible for 
being who *I* am," interrupted Blair.  "The only person responsible for this 
is the person who held the knife." 
 
Jim was disturbed by the matter-of-fact way that Blair said that, until he 
looked into his partner's eyes.  Blair was just barely holding it together.   
 
"You're right," he said, hoping it was the right thing to say. 
 
Blair didn't do anything, but Jim could feel his shoulders trembling.  "If you 
wanted to, you know, cry...that's fine," he said tentatively.  Blair just 
shook his head. 
 
"I don't want to cry, Jim.  I'm mad, and I'm frustrated and confused...  I 
don't know what I want right now." 
 
"Do you want me?" 
 
"I...yeah, I think so," said Blair.  "I could be a thousand miles away right 
now, but I'm not."  Turning his head, he kissed Jim's throat gently.  "It's 
just so fast and so much." 
 
"Yeah, I know." 
 
"I'm tired," said Blair quietly.  "I'm gonna lie down for a while." 
 
"Good.  I love you."  Blair kissed him again, this time on the lips. 
 
"I'll leave you to your calls," he said, standing up again.  "I'm in the room 
across the hall.  You know, if you need anything." 
 
"Thank you." 
 
A few moments after he left, Jim picked up the phone again and dialed. 
 
"Hello?" 
 
"Hi, Michael.  It's, uh, me." 
 
"Jim!  Is something wrong?  What's happened?" 
 
"Too much," said Jim with a sigh.  "I just...wanted someone to talk to.  You 
got time?" 
 
"Yeah."  Jim heard the sounds of shuffling papers in the background.  "I'll 
take a break right now."  Then there were sounds of Michael walking somewhere 
quieter.  "How's it going, man?" 
 
"I don't know.  I think I'm actually getting used to this whole 'out' 
business.  Guess you know what happened at the station, huh." 
 
"Which part?  The part about the vandalism?  Or the part about the murder?" 
 
"I'll take that as a yes." 
 
"Everyone knows damn well you aren't responsible for that murder, Jim.  It's 
an excuse to get you outta there for a while.  Don't worry about it one bit; 
it'll be cleared up soon." 
 
"Yeah, that was pretty much my take on it, but it doesn't feel good." 
 
"No doubt.  As for that vandalism...me and a couple of other guys have taken 
it upon ourselves to make sure they get their due." 
 
Jim smiled.  "You're a good friend," he said. 
 
"Don't you forget it when it comes time for *me* to call in a favor," said 
Michael, laughing just a little. 
 
"You've got it, man." 
 
"So now that we've got business out of the way, what's *really* on your mind?" 
 
"Blair." 
 
"Well, jeez, I should have guessed that one, huh." 
 
"Oh, probably.  He was, um...attacked today." 
 
"What?  Is he all right?  Where is he?" 
 
"He's here, with me.  He's all right...I guess.  Shaken up, cut up, bruised 
up.  Nothing that won't heal, at least physically." 
 
"And emotionally?" 
 
"Well, I think we *both* need some work right now.  I'm at a friend's place 
right now, a friend of Blair's."  Jim lay back wearily on the bed, holding the 
phone against his ear.  "When exactly did I lose control of my life?" 
 
"You haven't, Jamie.  Do *not* let this win.  There are a lot of us still here 
for you." 
 
"Yeah, and a lot of people who aren't.  The guy that turned the other way when 
they trashed my desk?  That was my *friend*, someone I trusted.  Do you know 
what that did to me?" 
 
"Yeah, I do," said Michael.  "Not that that helps you any.  You remember what 
it was like for me, when I came out to my mother?  We were still together 
then." 
 
Jim winced at the memory.  The one and only time he'd ever seen the other man 
cry, and the only time he ever expected to.  He'd stayed with him that whole 
night, not even worrying about what he was going to tell Blair.  It had been a 
bad time.   
 
"I remember," he said simply. 
 
"People surprise you...and it isn't always good." 
 
"I always knew that," said Jim.  "I've been through some serious shit before.  
But this is just so...so..." 
 
"So personal, Jamie.  It's so personal.  Like they've ripped out your heart 
and your soul and are dangling it in front of everyone like so much bait.  It 
*sucks*.  I *know* it does." 
 
"Great.  Just great.  Now that I'm thinking clearly, I realize that my life is 
a total wreck.  I think I liked it better when everything was a blur." 
 
"Now wait a second here.  Let's just put everything in perspective.  What 
happened?  You were outed.  What does that mean?  That you're out.  Okay, so 
what's the big deal.  Hundreds of people do it every day." 
 
"The big *deal*," said Jim, "is that I wasn't ready.  It wasn't my decision.  
And I'm a *cop*--this doesn't just mean I might not be first in line for a 
promotion anymore.  This is life and death.  And it makes me look like I 
wasn't honest, which isn't true.  Then there's Blair--" 
 
"Whoa, easy," said Michael soothingly.  "Let's just take those one at a time.  
You weren't ready.  Is anyone?" 
 
"I had just started *thinking* about it..." he began. 
 
"That puts you one up on a lot of the people on that list," pointed out 
Michael.  "And if you were starting to think about it, then surely you had 
already mulled over the consequences of being an out cop.  I *know* that you 
did." 
 
"And you know that I decided being all the way out at the station was a bad 
idea.  Now it's an even worse idea." 
 
"I think you're at the point where you realize there's nothing you can do 
about it.  It's done.  Stop worrying about it and start dealing with it.  You 
think people are uncomfortable with you now?  Then *talk* to them about it.  
Yeah, I know, you shouldn't have to, but that's life, pal.  A lot of people 
just don't understand, and if you can *make* them understand then it's a lot 
easier, on both of you.  You follow?" 
 
"I don't like it." 
 
"You don't have to.  You just have to do it." 
 
"You know, you can be a real jerk sometimes." 
 
"But an honest jerk.  Isn't that what you liked about me in the first place?" 
 
"Yeah, something like that." 
 
"So that takes care of your first few concerns.  Then there's Blair." 
 
Jim sighed.  "Yes, Blair.  Man, this has been harder on him than anyone, and I 
can't do anything to make it better." 
 
"No, you can't.  Except to recognize that he *is* a lot less ready to deal 
with it than you.  The kid's holding up a lot better than most people would 
have.  Just a week ago you were worried that he couldn't deal with being bi--
he's clearly stronger than you took him for." 
 
"Hey, Mike, quit making me feel like a pedophile.  Blair is no kid." 
 
"Okay, so he's not a kid.  He's still younger than me.  Maybe it's the whole 
student thing.  Doesn't matter; he's still doing well.  Give him some time--
you can't deal with this for him.  How many times am I gonna have to tell you 
that?" 
 
"Oh, probably at least a few more," admitted Jim.  "So what should I do now?" 
 
"You," said Michael, "need to get back to work." 
 
"No can do.  Not until I get my name cleared, you know that." 
 
"That probably won't even take hours, let alone days.  Get back into that 
office, Jim.  Get back on your cases.  Start picking up the pieces." 
 
"Guess I'm gonna have to try." 
 
"Atta boy, Jamie." 
 
"But right now...I think I want to go lie down with Blair.  I need to touch 
him, Mike..." 
 
"You should.  I'll see you later, Jim.  First time I see you at the station, 
I'm gonna come on up and treat you to a nice big cup of coffee and a danish, 
all right?" 
 
"And if I catch you calling me Jamie, you're dead meat." 
 
Michael was laughing as he hung up the phone. 
 
<><><><><><><><><><> 
 
Jim crept across the hall and spent a few moments just watching his lover 
sleep.  He looked so awkward, still fully dressed, still cradling his arm.  
Carefully, Jim began peeling his clothes off, first his socks, then his loose 
overshirt, then his jeans.  He didn't let himself think about the bruising 
until *after* his task was done. 
 
"Oh, Blair," he whispered, tracing the outline of a darkening bruise with his 
fingertip.  Blair whimpered in his sleep and tried to move, but couldn't find 
a more comfortable position.  "I'm so sorry.  For everything."  As he stripped 
his own clothing off and crawled into the bed, he kept talking.  "I can't help 
thinking that if I hadn't fallen for you, this never would have happened.  And 
I *know* that isn't true, but I can't help thinking it."  He kissed the back 
of Blair's head gently, then smoothed his hair down. 
 
"I have to keep telling myself that you aren't a child.  That you can make 
your own decisions.  When I look at you, I do see a man, a grown man that I 
desire very much, but when I think about people hurting you, I want to wrap 
you in cotton and hide you away.  I don't want to let you make mistakes.  I 
don't want you to go through the pain of coming out so soon after you realized 
it yourself...   And I know there's not a damn thing I can do about it.  I'm 
sorry." 
 
He continued to caress Blair's hair with one hand as he began to fall asleep 
himself, the other arm hanging loosely over his waist.  When Blair tenderly 
took Jim's hand into his own, Jim was too far gone to even notice. 
 
He awoke about an hour later to Ryan shaking his shoulder.   
 
"Jim?" he called softly, though it was easily loud enough to wake him.  "Jim?" 
 
Jim shifted a little and opened his eyes, Blair still curled up in his arms.   
 
"I'm up," he said.  "What is it?" 
 
"Your cell phone was ringing, so I answered it.  Your Captain wants you to 
call him back as soon as possible."  Jim sat up as quickly as he could without 
waking his partner and took his phone out of Ryan's outstretched hand.  "It 
sounded important, so I woke you right away." 
 
"Thank you," said Jim, already dialing the number for Simon's office.  "Did he 
say anything else?"  Ryan shook his head, slipping out of the room to give him 
some privacy.  Jim nodded, but it was to himself as the door softly clicked 
shut. 
 
"Hello, Simon." he said as the phone was picked up. 
 
"Jim!  There's been another murder, same MO--single bullet to the head.  
You're off the hook; your friend already says he'll vouch for your 
whereabouts.  How soon can you be back here?" 
 
Jim sighed.  "As soon as I get dressed and drive there.  What's going on?" 
 
"Besides the fact that your vacation is over?  I can't assign this case to 
you--you know that--but if you're here, I know you'll keep a close eye on it.  
Make sure the job gets done right.  This whole situation is just leaving a bad 
taste in my mouth, Jim, and I want someone I trust here.  Can you do that?" 
 
"You know I will."  He knew that if someone else had been in charge, he 
wouldn't have been off for a day--he would have been relieved of duty until 
the whole case was solved--and he was grateful to Simon for having that kind 
of faith in him despite what had transpired between them. 
 
"I'm having Brown pass all the information onto you, Jim.  Do you trust him 
to?" 
 
"Yes," he responded after a moment of thought. 
 
"Good.  This is strictly under the table, Jim.  As long as we're all clear on 
that." 
 
"I hear you, sir." 
 
"Good.  Then I'll see you here within the hour?" 
 
"You will," he said, then heard Simon hang up the phone.  He disconnected from 
his own end and just sat there, cradling Blair, until he worked up the energy 
to quietly slip out of from under the covers and put his clothes on.  Blair 
moaned softly as he deserted the bed, but quickly sprawled to cover the warm 
space that Jim left and was once again sleeping soundly. 
 
Jim met Ryan in the kitchen, who looked at him expectantly. 
 
"There's been another murder," said Jim. 
 
"So you're cleared?" 
 
"Yes." 
 
Ryan nodded, satisfied.  "Are you on the case?" 
 
"Not officially." 
 
"Are you on the case?" he repeated. 
 
"Yes." 
 
Ryan nodded again as the detective walked past him to slip on his shoes and 
his jacket.   
 
"Take care of Blair," said Jim.  "Let him know where I am.  I'll call him 
later." 
 
"I will." 
 
"Thank you," he said, and left the house. 


<<<<< END PART III >>>>>