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Many, many thanks to Reetchick for her wonderful beta work and warm encouragement (and the title!).

Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2003 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2003

The huge Christmas tree is in the corner, beautifully decorated with white lights and bows made of gold ribbon. Mozart is playing softly on the stereo as everyone drifts into the living room for after dinner drinks. The rest of the house, like the tree, is decorated tastefully with the sort of understated elegance I've seen on the covers of high end decorating magazines.

Never let it be said that William Ellison doesn't have good taste.

I get along pretty well with my father now. It took a while, but Dad and I actually have a good relationship these days. A lot of that is because of Sandburg's gentle nudging, just like he'd nudged me to repair my relationship with my brother.

Actually, most of the good things in my life these days have happened because of Sandburg.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye, perched on the couch, talking animatedly to my brother Steven and Steven's new wife, Amanda. Even that relationship is Sandburg's doing. He's known Amanda for years through the University, and not long after meeting my brother, Sandburg mentioned her to me as "the perfect match" for Steven. I dismissed the idea at the time, but Sandburg knew better. When he finally arranged for them to meet, the sparks flew, and now I have a deliriously happy brother and a brand new sister-in-law.

I catch Sandburg's eye and he winks at me. I take a sip of wine to keep from grinning like an idiot, because my brother isn't the only one who's deliriously happy. It's been eight months since Sandburg and I finally made the transition from friends to lovers, and in a lot of ways it's more of a marriage than my relationship with Carolyn ever was. We fit, and I've never been happier.

My father comes towards me, arm in arm with a woman I'd noticed earlier. There is something brittle about her, underneath her veneer of politeness. There's also something very insincere about her smile, and I find myself wondering just how close she and my father are. Sandburg hops off the couch and comes to stand next to me.

Dad's companion takes one look at Sandburg and her expression changes. She looks at him like he's something she's scraped off the bottom of her shoe.

Dad doesn't notice, but Sandburg does.

She's quite charming, almost flirtatious when Dad introduces her to me. Her name is Marjorie Thorne, and I'm less than happy to make her acquaintance.

And then Dad introduces Sandburg. "This is Jim's partner, Detective Blair Sandburg."

"Yes, I'd heard a rumor you'd become a detective," said Marjorie, lighting a cigarette. "I didn't think it was true, though."

Her tone makes the hair on the back of my neck rise. "And why is that?" I ask, trying to be casual. Sandburg puts a warning hand on my back.

Marjorie lazily turns her attention from Sandburg to me. "Well," she says, taking a deep drag of her cigarette, "you know how it is with people who like to draw attention to themselves using the media. They're all... frauds."

Bitch!

I feel like I've been punched in the gut, and the adrenaline surges through me. I hear Sandburg's heart skip a beat. My father goes white, then red.

The room is suddenly too warm and claustrophobic, and I choke back all of the nasty things I want to say to this malicious woman and turn to my father instead.

"I never could understand what you saw in the people at the country club, Dad. Their superiority complexes get awfully tiring after a while." I put my half finished glass of wine on the sideboard. "I'm going out for some air. Chief, you coming?"

Not that I actually have to ask - he always follows me. That's part of what other people think is the problem.

Why do you let that fraud still follow you around? How did your partner get into the Academy after telling the world he lied on national television? Why are you still friends with someone who tried to use you to get famous?

I stride to the door as fast as I can without actually running, and Sandburg is right behind me. As soon as I get outside, the chill hits me, but it feels good, like I can breathe again. I keep walking until I realize that Sandburg is practically jogging to keep up.

"Jesus, Jim, would you slow down?"

I stop and watch him as he jogs towards me, a little winded from trying to match my stride. His face is flushed, and he impatiently brushes the hair out of his eyes. I'm still so angry I can hardly string together a coherent sentence.

"Damn it, Sandburg, I thought that shit was over by now!" I yell. He's the last person I want to yell at, but I can't seem to help myself.

Sandburg has never been one to back off, though, and he grabs my arm to keep me grounded, like he's done so many times in the past.

"Jim, man, who gives a shit what she thinks of me?"

"I do!"

"But I don't! She's nobody, man. Just some snob from your father's country club."

"But people like her are the reason you almost didn't get into the Academy!"

"But I got in, Jim. I got in, I graduated, and now I'm your partner. So people like Marjorie don't have any power over us anymore."

I take a deep breath. He's right. It doesn't make it any easier when people make remarks about him, but he's right. People like her have nothing to do with our lives now. Sandburg rubs his hands up and down my arms, and after all this time, his touch is still an anchor for me, can still keep me from flying apart into a thousand pieces.

I nod tightly at him and he smiles at me.

"Listen to me, Jim. We're going to take a walk, and you're going to calm down. Okay?"

I nod again, and he takes my hand as we walk across the yard, towards the woods.

Neither of us say anything for a while as we walk. I'm still angry, but I know not all the anger is at Marjorie. Some of it - a lot of it - is at myself. Something's been bugging me for months now, ever since our relationship changed.

Blair Sandburg is the most important person in my world, and I love him so much I can hardly breathe sometimes, but I can't tell him that. I can say it in my head just fine, but I can't say the words out loud.

This is a man who used to be a scholar. Words mean a lot to him, and I can't say the right ones. Every time I try, they get stuck in my throat. It's not like he doesn't know - he does. I make sure he does. I show him as often as I can, in as many ways as I can.

The only way I've been able to tell him is by using his name. I call him Blair when we're in bed. In everyday life, it's Sandburg. Or Chief. Or Darwin. Or the million other nicknames I call him through the course of an average day.

But late at night, when his hands are on me and I'm groaning his name, I call him Blair. He knows it's my way of saying "I love you," but it's still not enough. I want to be able to say the actual words to him.

I couldn't say them to Carolyn, either.

There's a boulder at the edge of the property right where the woods start. Steven and I used to play on it when we were kids, pretending it was a fort. Sandburg steers me towards it, and when we finally stop, I realize how cold it actually is.

"Where's your coat?" I ask.

Sandburg makes a noise that sounds very much like a snort. "Where's yours?"

Oh.

"On the coat rack in the hallway."

"Yeah, that's where mine is, too." He smacks me gently on the side of the head. I catch his hand and bring it to my mouth. His hand is cold already, and I turn it over and kiss his palm.

"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot sometimes." I tell him, and pull him into an embrace, partly for warmth, partly to erase the sting of Marjorie's remark, and partly because I've never been able to keep my hands off of him for any length of time, even before we became lovers. He wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my chest. Suddenly, I don't feel as cold anymore.

I see the door to the house open, and a figure walks out carrying a lumpy bundle. Dad. With our coats. Sandburg sees him coming, too, and we loosen our embrace so we're standing beside each other, but our hands remain clasped.

Dad looks very solemn as he approaches us.

"Blair. I am so terribly sorry about Marjorie. I had no idea she would say such a thing; I never would have invited her. I've asked her to leave."

My father sent one of his country club friends home? Because she was rude to Sandburg?

Sandburg blinks. He looks as surprised as I feel. "That wasn't necessary, Mr. Ellison."

"Yes, it was." My father says firmly, handing us our coats. "I won't allow people to speak to you like that in my house."

Sandburg stares at him, and then shakes himself a little, like he's trying to shake off his disbelief. "Thank you, Mr. Ellison."

"William. And please come back in and have dessert with us."

Sandburg shoots me a questioning look. I squeeze his hand and nod to my father.

"Yeah, Dad, we'll be there in a couple of minutes."

My father stands there and looks at us for a minute, and I know it's been a struggle for him, knowing that Sandburg and I are a couple now.

"Blair, I just wanted to say... " He clears his throat before he can continue. "I'm proud to have you as a member of the family. You've been very good for Jimmy."

In my wildest dreams, I never thought I'd ever hear anything like this from my father, and I can tell that Sandburg is deeply touched.

"He's been really good for me, too," he says softly.

Dad reaches out and briefly clasps Sandburg's shoulder, then says "I'll see you both up at the house."

We watch him walk across the yard in silence. My heart is so full right now I have to fight with the sudden lump in my throat. I have everything I've ever wanted, everything I've ever needed, right here. And finally, the words are here too.

Sandburg squeezes my hand and then releases it. "C'mon, man, I want some of that orange cake Amanda was telling me about." He bounces a little and starts turning towards the house, ready to go back to warmth and food and light.

"Blair."

He spins around so fast he almost loses his balance. "You called me Blair."

I bite back a grin at the look of surprise on his face. "Last I checked, that was your name."

"Not to you, it's not. Well," he amends, "not unless we're in bed."

I walk over to him until we're just inches apart. "Yeah, I know," I say softly, taking his hands and pulling him in close. Blair still looks surprised, but pleased, and I bend my head and kiss him gently on the mouth.

"I love you. I've always loved you. I will always love you."

"Aw, Jim." Blair looks thunderstruck. "That sounded like a vow."

"It was. Is."

His heart speeds up a little, and he takes a deep breath and puts his hands on either side of my face.

"I love you." He says, and kisses me. "I've always loved you." Another kiss. "I will always love you." Another kiss, harder this time. "Always, man, always," he says fiercely, kissing me again. The kiss deepens until we're both breathless and all I can think of is getting him home.

And apparently he's thinking the same thing, because he breaks the kiss and whispers, "Let's go have some of that cake and get home so we can celebrate."

It sounds like a good plan to me.

End What I Really Want to Say by Rhiannon-Jehane: [email protected]

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