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Jim returned to a cold, empty loft. He had been away only for two weeks. One week spent in Mexico waiting for his undercover assignment. One week in the hospital in the little border town where they had dumped him. After lot of embarrassing questions the agents from DEA had let him go to return to Cascade. It felt like a lifetime ago.
The rooms were dark and Jim switched the light on in the kitchen. Rummaging in the fridge he made himself a couple of sandwiches. The bread was dry and tasted like the plastic bag it had been in. Drinking his beer to get the sandwich down he leaned at the counter and stared at Blair's former room. On impulse he pushed himself forward and entered the small room as if he was expecting a ghost in there. The room had changed in the last ten years since Blair had disappeared. He had finally transformed it into a study. Some of the decorations that Blair had left behind had stayed. The rest had gone down to the basement over the years. Jim hadn't been able to bring himself to give the stuff away. It was what had remained of Blair.
Jim glanced around and stopped at a framed photograph of Blair's first expedition. He looked young and eager, grinning with his fellow students into the camera. Jim sat down at the desk and switched the lamp on and opened the lowest drawer. In the far corner he had an envelope full of photographs. He spread them over the desk, studying the face of his friend, trying to find answers and to recall what had happened back then. Ten years ago.
Jim had come home and had found a piece of paper stuck on the fridge: 'I'm gone to a vacation for a week, don't worry! Blair.' Jim had shaken his head and returned to his stake out. Blair's back pack was gone and some of his stuff for light travel. When he hadn't heard from him after a few days he started to call his friends. They didn't even knew that Blair was gone. He had called the university, they weren't informed either. When Naomi told him that she hadn't heard from him in a month he started to call methodically every person he knew. Blair had disappeared without a trace.
At first Jim had been convinced Blair was mad at him. They had a few fights lately and there had been some tension between them, but Jim hadn't regarded it really serious. Finally his old battered car was found. It had been stolen. The thieves, kids who had taken it for a ride, swore that they had found the Volvo abandoned in a side road in one of the large Washington national parks. For a long time he had held to the hope that Blair was still alive, had just hidden in some remote retreat. That he would soon turn up at the door with a mischievous laugh at his silly worry. But when Naomi came to get some of his belongings and to make arrangements with the university he had started to face the reality that Blair was dead, probably killed by some freaks who's path he had accidentally crossed.
Jim's gaze wandered over the old pictures. Blair in fishing gear, Blair cooking at a bar-B-Q, waving his spatula at the photographer. Blair and him hugging and laughing, during a camping trip. Simon had taken that picture. Jim pondered calling Simon, but dismissed it, not sure what he should tell his old friend. "Hey Simon, I found Blair, he's a powerful drug lord now and has a thing for my ass, so much that he raped me." That would go over well! But he would probably need Simon's help to find out the truth, this time!
He got up and switched the light out. He stumped up the stairs to his bed. When he curled under the covers he realized that his body still remembered Blair's touches. The ghostly feeling of Blair pounding his ass made him hard again. He had been unbelievably relieved when the doctor had overlooked his bruised ass and he had been able to dish out his white lies - that the people who had held him hadn't trusted him enough and had sent him back after some interrogations without making contact with their highest boss. Yet Jim could give enough descriptions to satisfy them. He had the suspicion that they wouldn't buy the truth anyway and that it would destroy his career and take him off the case if he came forward.
Irrationally he wanted to see Blair again, talk to him, find his beloved friend again beneath the evil outside that had the face of Blair. He had no clue what he would do. The only thing he was sure of was that Blair had woken in him a deep desire he didn't knew he was capable of and the love he had always felt for the younger man.
Next morning he started his search. Somehow he was sure that Blair's subterfuge had started the day Blair had disappeared. He went down the police archive, occupied a table and worked himself through the files of all incidents that had happened that week in Cascade and neighborhood. When he opened the maybe 50th file a cold feeling crawled up his back. It was report about a shoot out in one of the downtown parts of Cascade. A drug deal had gone bad in one of the small houses. Under the list of victims one name stood out: Robert Sandburg. Blair's cousin, the bookie.
With guilt and dread, Jim got the rest of the files following this report. Reading everything carefully a horrible picture formed in his mind.
- 10 years earlier ---
"Hi, Bob!"
"Hi, cuz! Could you help me?"
"I thought you wanted me to help you move your stuff to your new cabin?"
"Sure, but I have to give this back to a friend." He lifted a small suitcase. "We'll drive over to his place and then I'll take you to lunch, my treat."
"Okay, okay!" Blair laughed.
Jim was on a stakeout and wouldn't have time to eat lunch with him anyway before they would spent the weekend working on the new cabin his cousin had bought. They drove in Robert's open, red Corvette, the music from the radio blaring loudly.
"Your new place is cool!"
Robert smiled at Blair. "You think?"
"The chicks will love it." Blair waggled his eyebrows.
Robert grinned. They drove outside Cascade to one of the poorer suburbs. Robert parked his car in front of a one-story house.
Blair looked around the shady place. "What does your friend do?"
"All kind of stuff." Robert shrugged.
Blair hesitated when he saw the men inside. Robert grinned winningly at the skinny, tattooed guy who was obviously the boss. They didn't look like gamblers and the air was heavy with sweet smoke. Stymie came out of the kitchen. He was one of Robert's pals. He laughed cheeringly while the rest of the gang seemed to be very tense.
"You got the stuff?"
And Blair watched with horror as Robert slammed the suitcase on the table and opened it, revealing little packages. Blair panicked and tried to edge towards the door.
"Elmer wants cash, and now!" Robert explained.
Stymie's grin washed from his face. "Too bad, man."
"You know how it is, Stym."
"Why do you do this shit? I mean, how I'm supposed ....This is all your fault. Shit!"
"C'mon, Stym! We're friends."
The skinny guy spoke up suddenly. "I'm not your friend, no cash."
"Hey, man I got no beef with you." Robert tried to relent.
"You make noise and I have to put you down."
"Why, dammit?"
"Why not?"
Blair tried to run, he could see in the eyes of the man that he was ready to kill. Then the room exploded. Blair fell on his knees and rolled toward the wall in a sheer instinctual movement. Someone screamed like a banshee. Like slow motion the skinny guy drew his gun and held it against Robert's chest and pulled the trigger. Robert's body rocked and flew against the wall like puppet. Blair screamed. Stymie shot in every direction gripping the suitcase. The shots sounded like explosions in the small room. Everybody started to move. Blair flung himself under the table and ended up staring in the dead face of his cousin's friend Stymie.
The guy at the door was shooting at Robert who was retreating back through the kitchen. He waved his gun and trained it towards Blair. Like in trance he took Stymie's gun laying in front of him and pulled the trigger. He felt a bullet grace him somewhere. The other guy stopped shooting, a red stain spreading in the middle of his chest. A hand pulled the back of his shirt and dragged him out.
It was Robert. He looked like a crazy man, blood was all over his shirt. Two of the perps were down the others gone. Robert pushed him towards the car.
"Drive!" He yelled, waving his gun around.
Blair jumped in and drove like an automaton. Tears began to run down his face and he wiped his nose with his hand. Robert bellowed the directions, Blair expected every moment to hear the sirens of the police cars. They finally stopped in a back lane. Robert jumped out of the car and made sure Blair followed him into the house they were parked outside of. A big south American sat in a large empty room and listen grimly to the story they told.
"You are bad news, Robert Sandburg."
"I'll make it up to you! I swear!"
The large man eyed Blair in a way he didn't like.
Nodding at Blair he grunted: "What about him?"
"He's okay, my cousin. He's clever, you could use him, a real genius. He speaks Spanish."
The bloodshot eyes checked Blair out. The man licked his lips.
"He can replace you."
"What?" Robert asked shocked.
"You ain't in no shape to travel. He do the job."
Robert cast a glance at Blair who was almost in shock. Then shouts were heard outside. Several shots were fired.
"Police?"
"No. Go!"
He was shoved in the back of another car together with the freaked Robert. They drove around. Blair had no clue where they were heading. Robert was bleeding to death in the seat next to him.
"He needs a doctor." Blair told the two men in the front seat.
The one only turned and stared bored at the dying man. Anger rose in Blair who finally came out of shock.
"You asshole! How... how could you, Bob? I work with the police!"
The guy in the front seat gave him a surprised glance. Blair ignored him. He didn't believe he would come out of this alive anyway.
"Chill out! I'll get us out of it." Robert reassured him.
"You are kidding yourself, you bastard, you won't even get yourself out of your coffin! You are dead, man!"
"We'll leave the country until everything has cooled down."
"You are crazy! My fingerprints are on this gun! Nothing will cool down!"
"The merchandise will buy us out."
Blair almost sobbed in frustration.
"Dammit! Why did you do something so... incredible stupid?"
"Damned! I owed a lot of money! Business wasn't running so good lately."
Robert pressed his fist into his chest wound.
"You asshole, you son of a bitch! I could kill you!"
Blair threw his head back in defeat, there was no way out. No where. Tears run down his face.
Numbly Blair sat with his backpack clutched to his chest at the floor of some small transport air plane. His ears were still ringing from the shooting and his ribs ached from the bullet that had nicked him. His clothes smelled of gun powder and blood. He knew he would never return home. Never see Jim again. Jim...
---Present day ---
Jim closed the last file. Robert Sandburg. Back then he hadn't heard any of it. Robert's body had been found 50 miles from Cascade. One of the missing suspects in that case was a young Caucasian male, 5'7", with long, brown, curly hair, wearing glasses. He had supposedly killed one of the perps, Guthrie Moss, who had been wanted for murder one in two cases, assault and drug dealing and other assorted crimes.
Blair. Jim didn't doubt for a second that it had been all Robert's fault and Blair had shot in self-defense. Jim collected his notes, glad that he hadn't called Simon about this. Blair was still wanted for murder. The fingerprints on the gun could identify him.
Sitting at home and surfing through the TV channels he pondered what would happen when he had heard about Robert back then. He would have helped Blair, his friend should have trusted him. He would have find ways to get him out of this mess. Witness protection or he would have even smuggled him out of the country himself. So Blair had been at the mercy of the drug dealers, became one of them to survive.
Naomi! Naomi had to know!
Jim jumped from the couch and went to the phone.
"Ms. Sandburg, please?"
"Hello?"
"It's me, Jim Ellison."
"Hi, Jim. How are you?"
"Fine. I saw Blair."
A long silence stretched on the other end.
"He looked good, he was happy to see me."..........."Why didn't you ever tell me that he was still alive?"
"He wanted to protect you."
Jim didn't know what to say.
"I would have helped him, I swear Naomi. I wold have protected him."
"I know, but he wanted it that way."
Both were silent.
"I,........" Jim coughed, "I want to see him again."
"I can't promise anything."
"Okay, I understand. Bye."
"Bye, Jim."
Jim sat there for a while on the couch holding the phone in his hand. He had been blind in his grief. Sighing he got up and went to bed. Weeks went by as he found more and more details about the case and what had happened to Blair.
Jim awoke, immediately aware that he wasn't in his room. He peered around. It was an elegant hotel room, full of exquisite antique furniture and soft, pale colors. The drapes were half drawn and tinged the room in a pale light morning light. Jim shifted uncomfortable. He was naked, laying on his stomach, his arms tied behind his back. A gag stuck in his mouth. He turned his head toward the soft breathing he was hearing.
Blair was sitting on the bed dressed in a black silk suit and shirt. The shirt open almost to the waist down to reveal his curly chest hair. His hair hung long and open. He smiled.
"Couldn't stop thinking of you. Your hot little ass."
He reached out and run his hand over Jim's back, resting it over his butt. Jim snatched the wandering hand and gently held it. When Blair wanted to draw it back he squeezed it and let it go. Blair smiled and opened the gag. Jim smiled back.
"How do you feel?"
"Nauseatic. The room is spinning." Jim blinked. "You look good without the mustache."
"And you are still a hot little slut."
"Your slut!" He croaked.
"I wanted to see you."
"Okay!"
Blair run his fingers through Jim's hair.
"I wished you would wear it longer."
They had never really kissed and Blair leaned forward questioningly. Jim opened his mouth in invitation, his tongue moving in anticipation to play with his mate. Blair didn't need further encouragement and sealed his mouth over Jim's. The kiss was hard and desperate. Jim grunted and rolled on his back drawing Blair over him who clutched at him trying to eat him alive. Jim squirmed and moaned frustrated that he couldn't touch or hold Blair.
"Slut! Bitch!" Blair murmured into the demanding mouth.
Jim arched under him and breathed hoarsely: "Your bitch! Take me. C'mon!"
It drove him crazy that Blair was still fully dressed on top of him. Jim's kissing became more and more desperate and suddenly Blair noticed something, something that came up from the depth of his memories. He drew back.
"Don't zone on me!"
"It was so tempting." Jim grinned, panting.
Blair sat up, studying his lascivious wiggling friend. He slipped out of his jacket without a second though.
"Oh, yeah!" Jim encouraged. "More!"
He got up and slipped out of his pants and underwear. Jim drew his legs wantonly back.
"Come, do me - I want to see your face."
Blair's dick throbbed at the suggestion and he climbed back onto he bed.
"What got into you, Jim?" He wondered at the strange behavior of his friend.
"Had your dick up my ass, that changed my mind about life."
"I see."
Blair turned him around.
"Lift your ass."
Jim obliged eagerly and welcomed the intruding finger with a sigh.
"I never thought you could be so needy?"
"Yeah, need you!"
Blair chuckled. Jim pushed back at the finger.
"More!?"
Blair almost lost it there. Holding the long legs up he sat on his heels and placed Jim's butt on his thighs. Jim watched him from under his eyelashes. Blair flashed at him a cruel smile and shoved in. Jim arched and gasped in pain. But Blair didn't stop and Jim threw his head back his tendons standing out from the strain. Tears stood in his eyes from the strain and breathed fast to relax. When Blair's balls nestled against his butt he wanted to scream, yet only a hoarse 'go!' escaped his lips. Blair shivered, this was more than he ever imagined.
"Go!"
And Blair pumped him slowly, maddeningly. Long, hard strokes. Jim grunted with every push and came without a warning. Blair gritted his teeth when Jim's ass milked his dick. He wanted to last. Holding the heavy legs he continued to fuck his pliant lover. The lax body showing no resistance, not even awareness. Over and over pounding in that abused hole making up for all the years that had been lost. At the end he came hard, almost passing out. He let Jim go and almost crawled to the chair next to the bed. Jim blinked and studied the naked man sprawled in the big chair.
"Don't go?" Jim whispered.
When Jim woke up later he was alone, the cuffs were gone. He got up, dressed and left.
Jim signed the documents on his desk and the secretary took them away. Jim turned with his seat and sighed after the woman had left the room. Looking out of the window high above Cascade he pondered the night with Blair a few weeks ago. He had left in a daze the little expensive hotel down the coast and found his way home. Ever since the thought of Blair never left him.
Somewhere out there was Blair. Maybe touching another right now like he had touched Jim with his strong hands. He got hard at that thought. He did this a lot lately. It was like a drug, he craved the presence of his lover. Like an insane man he didn't know if he would ever get another dose of his favorite poison. He knew Blair used him to relive a desire of his youth. Taking the incredible risk to abduct an high ranking police officer to abuse his body for his pleasure. Jim moaned. Taking a trophy for his strange thrills, his gun and underwear.
Jim prayed every day that Blair would come to take him again.
Jim shifted the bags in his arms to fish for his keys. When he stepped out of the elevator he finally got a hold on them in his back pocket. The moment he wanted to insert the key he froze. A creepy sensation washed over him, like a very old recognition. Hastily he shoved the key inside the lock and swung the door open.
Blair sat calmly on the couch facing the balcony, like he'd been waiting a long time for Jim to come home. When Jim remained frozen on his own doorstep, Blair smiled, amused at him and Jim relaxed.
He came in, shoved the door shut with his foot and placed the bags in the kitchen. He didn't let Blair out of his sight as if he was afraid he would disappear when he blinked. He sat down next to him, perched on the couch smiling serenely at him.
"Hi!"
"Hi, back!"
Jim wanted ask 'what brings you over?' but that sounded so lame, so superficial. He tried awkwardly instead:
"I'm glad that you are here!"
"Didn't change much."
Jim shrugged and looked around as if he was seeing the loft for the first time.
"I saw you kept a lot of things of mine."
Jim's face softened and became melancholic.
"I thought I could keep your spirit here."
Not sure what afterlife held Jim had somehow felt that there should be a place where Blair would always belong. Where he would be remembered. And Blair realized from Jim's words that he spoke from the dead Blair, whose body was never found. This Blair was dead and the Blair of today felt empty. Unused to such morose brooding, he shifted annoyed.
"I wanted to see how the place looked today. Neat as ever."
Jim smiled at that stab.
"I looked into the case. I never knew about Robert and everything."
"That was a long time ago, Jim."
"I needed to know."
"Of course."
Blair nodded solemnly, knowing his friend so well that he could anticipate Jim's next words. And he didn't fail him.
"I've made things right. All you have to do is doing witness against Beltran. Then you are cleared. You can come back." Jim explained hopefully.
Blair looked sadly at him.
"I can't come back, Jim."
There was no coming back from the life he was leading.
"But...?"
"To what should I come back? Live in the spare room, finish my doctorate at the university? This is all gone Jim."
"You could come back to me." He said it silently, as if it hurt to say the obvious.
"As what? As your partner? Working for the police?" Blair asked sarcastically.
"No, we... I mean we could be together." As the words left his mouth Jim felt the absurdness of his suggestion of this impossible dream.
Blair stopped and stared at his old friend. Then his gaze wandered over the bay. This was all so irrational, like they would sit in some kind of time pocket.
With a quiet voice he began. "Here in the loft we are just Jim and Blair, old friends, but we have both a past out there. A past that we can't deny. Accept it Jim, we can't turn back the clock."
And Jim understood that he had lost Blair. That he would leave again. Blair run his hand over the short hair of his sorrowful friend and Jim closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Blair guided him to lie down and Jim pliantly stretched out to accommodate Blair above him.
Blair was heavy and hot, his breath tickling his ear as he murmured: "I love you, nothing is ever going to change that."
Blair felt so alive, so strong and he knew he would do anything, anything to stay with him. Blair undressed him and willingly he hung one leg over the back of the couch offering himself. The younger man wondered at the picture in front of him. How much he had dreamt about this. Jim being his lover, a happy, loving couple, sex on the couch, doing the laundry and choosing together the new china. Blair crouched over his lover making love to him with all the gentleness he was still capable of.
When he woke up he was protectively nestled in Jim's arms both laying on their sides. Blair kissed Jim gently and got up to dress. Jim watched him for a moment.
"Take me with you."
"What?" Blair asked surprised.
"Take me with you. I want to be with you, and if you don't want to stay here I'll go with you."
"You can't, are you nuts? You know what I do."
"I know, but I choose you."
Blair gaped at him unbelievingly but he saw Jim meant it. Angrily he turned to hide his emotions. He couldn't do this to Jim. He wouldn't drag him to the dark side, not even for himself. He took a deep breath and turned and said coldly:
"I don't want you. It was a nice fuck for the sake of the old times but to live with you, that's not really what I want. You would be a burden and don't think I would become monogamous in my old age. Not even for you, Ellison."
Jim appeared to be hurt and Blair gave him a pitiful hard glare. Then Jim got a mulish expression and continued to dress.
"For a moment you could have fooled me..."
Blair frowned.
"But you need someone to look after you, Sandburg ... And if it doesn't work out I can always go home to mom. Your mom."
Blair calculated his chances to run out of the loft and leave Jim behind and sighed.
"I won't change my life for you. You really think you can put up with the things I do?"
"Try me!"
"You are crazy!"
"I love you."
Blair closed his eyes and tried to regain his balance before he answered. Deep inside he knew Jim meant what he said. Back then he should have trusted his friend. Jim would have made things right.
"I'll leave without you, Jim." He threatened.
"You can't."
Blair tighten his fists, loosing his temper. He should shoot Jim in his leg or anything and go. When Jim tentatively stepped towards him, he drew his gun. Jim eyed the weapon carefully which was trained at his head.
"You can't."
For an endless moment both men tried to stare each other down. And Blair realized that Jim wasn't at least afraid. Not because he was convinced Blair would never kill him. Because the dark panther had emerged. With wonder, he admitted to himself that he had completely forgotten what the man standing opposite of him was capable of. What lurked beneath the civilized layers.
He dropped the gun.
"How long do you need to pack?"
Jim's smile was blinding.
End