Author's webpage: http://www.NightRoadsAssoc.com/

Author's disclaimer: I'd say not mine, but at this point, I'm not sure, since most of it is mine, except Blair and maybe Simon. Possibly Jim.

This story may only be reproduced for personal use.

Author's notes: This is for Trilly, upon whom be peace, who raised a question I think I'm answering in this. This story explores a darker undercurrent in Jim and Blair's own relationship.

Chapter One

Jim waffled a bit over which earring to wear. He finally settled on his smallest gold stud, and even then he held it for a moment, not sure if he should wear even that. Ah. His father had seen it before. He slipped out the sapphire one and put the new one in, and turned his head. Good. Just barely noticeable.

That done, he stood before his full-length mirror and adjusted his current...costume was probably just the right word. He wore a sweater over a t-shirt over a pair of slightly faded jeans and boots. The things we do for family.

Blair was waiting for him in the living room, reading some journal. Now, he looked as delicious as ever. "How do I look, sweetcheeks?"

He looked up, and his face just glowed. "Jim! That's...you haven't worn that sweater in months."

Jim shrugged. "What could I do? It was a gift from Dad."

"Well, it fits you, man. Fits you enough that if we weren't so late..." Blair leered playfully, and picked up the giftwrapped wine bottle. "But we'd better get going."

"Oh, darn!" Jim snapped his fingers, gave Blair a brief kiss. "Maybe if we were late enough, we could just miss it." He grinned again and took his jacket and car keys. "And we will be right on time."

"Right. If we survive."

"I heard that."

"You were meant to." Blair looked entirely unapologetic for his slur on Jim's driving.

Despite all of Blair's mutterings, they got to Jim's father's place without major mishap, breaking the speed limit too severely or using the siren, and two minutes early.

Blair sat in the cab, shaking, until Jim handed him out. "I just promised my first born child if we survived this trip."

"And who is having this child, if I may ask?"

Blair smiled. "Are you sure that's the right tense? You know all about my wild past. Okay, I'm steady now. What was that rush about?"

"Darling, you are never late to William Ellison's. Time is money." They walked up to the front door carrying the wine bottle. Jim took a deep breath and straightened his spine before ringing the door bell.

To Jim's surprise, Dad opened the door himself. "Son. Dr. Sandburg. Welcome." He held out his hand. Jim took it in a firm grip.

"Hello, Dad."

"Hi, Mr. Ellison." Blair juggled the wine bottle and nearly dropped it in his eagerness to take Dad's hand. "Thanks for inviting us."

Dad just smiled and took the gift. "It was long over due. Please, come in."

Jim put a hand on Blair's shoulder as they followed his father into the living room. There were trays of canapes set out on the coffee table, and Jim could smell...yes. Pot roast. In Sally's special wine sauce, too. Dad was going all out.

"Have a seat. Would you care for something to drink, Dr. Sandburg?"

"Uh. Yeah, sure. Whatever you got. Sir." Blair seated himself awkwardly on the sofa.

"Jimmy, you know where the drinks are."

"I think so. Scotch okay?"

"Just a small one. Don't want to interfere with dinner."

Jim watched his father settle on the leather chair next to the sofa, and busied himself at the bar. There was an open bottle of...whoa. Macallen. He poured three short glasses, making sure that his was well watered. Meanwhile, Dad and Blair had a painfully polite conversation about university politics.

He carefully handed out the glasses, watching for Blair's delight at the taste of truly fine liquor as he settled next to him, as close as he could without touching him.

"You're ruining that scotch, Jimmy."

"I know." He also knew that no way was he going to get relaxed here. "It tastes just fine like this."

"What do you think about that, Dr. Sandburg?"

Blair smiled. "It's truly excellent, Mr. Ellison. Thank you. I'm basically a beer man myself, but I could go for this."

"We'll just have to educate your palate."

"Educate my palate, sir?" Blair caught Jim's eyes and smiled.

"A man is judged by many things in this world. Unless I miss my guess, you will be rising in academic and civic circles in the next few years. Little things like knowing this scotch can make a huge difference."

Jim rolled his eyes. He'd heard that speech his entire life. Blair bit his lip. "Umm, sir. I appreciate the advice, but I'm pretty well where I want to be. Faculty parties and...Rotary clubs just aren't my thing, you know?"

"Now you're in for it." He leaned in towards Blair, hoping his father wouldn't notice or hear. Blair shook his head.

All Dad did was chuckle. "They may not be your thing...as I remember, the corporate equivalents are tedious as hell...but you have a unique position and the responsibility to use it."

"I don't understand."

Bill Ellison took a sip from his glass. "You're an academic and a member of our police force, are you not?"

"I'm a consultant to the police and I'm an adjunct professor at Rainier. I'm sort of on the edge of both."

"Even so, you have done a great deal to bring the two together."

"I've done my best. But..."

"If you want to do more, you have to consolidate your position, move in from the edge. I don't mean you need to glad hand. But you need to be seen and respected. Especially since you are also my son's lover."

Jim sat up straight while Blair nearly dropped his glass. "What did you say, Dad?"

Dad just smiled. "Dr. Sandburg is your lover, isn't he? That was why he marched next to you at the head of that parade, right?"

"Um."

"Well, umm..."

Dad chuckled. "Jimmy, I've known you were...er...gay, for years. Since you ran to that part of town."

"You...you never said..."

He shrugged. "It was up to you. I should have spoken, perhaps, when that Freddie person was killed. I owe him a debt of gratitude that I could never repay."

"You...you knew about Freddie?" Jim could hardly put words together. This was about as far beyond his imagination as Simon in a dress.

"Of course I do. I followed their trial. The judge is a member of my club, you know, so I even spoke to him about them. I don't know how much good it did, but I tried. They saved your life, Jimmy. And I can promise you...Mel will never lose his gallery so long as I can do something about it."

"I don't believe this. Since when are you so tolerant?"

Blair laid a hand on Jim's arm. It was the only thing keeping him from jumping up and approaching his father.

"You are what you are. I would have rather you had been straight, that your marriage to Lt. Plummer had been anything but a farce, but what cannot be cured must be endured."

"So, now I'm just...endured? I'm a freak you have to...what? Why am I here? Why are we here?"

"Jim, calm down. It's cool that we're here at all."

Jim settled back on the couch and downed his scotch and water all at once. He felt like he'd slipped into some bizarre alternate universe.

"You're here because I've wasted enough time waiting for you to say something. And because I wanted to meet Dr. Sandburg for more than a few minutes. I never got a chance to meet your wife, Jimmy, and this is a far more important relationship for you."

"He is. He's...my life." Jim smiled at his lover and, taking courage from his eyes, squeezed his hand.

Blair ducked his head and squeezed back.

"Do I pass muster, Mr. Ellison?"

"Time will tell. You've had an impressive career...no, I haven't been prying, son." Jim closed his mouth. "Dr. Sandburg's career gets a mention whenever you catch someone, or there's a trial. College at sixteen, several papers as an undergraduate, two well received dissertations plus other papers since, and awards and commendations from the police department. I'd be proud if a daughter of mine married you."

Something pinged in the kitchen. "We'd better get dinner on the table. I gave Sally the night off, so I'll need you boys to help me."

Jim, still in shock, let Blair haul him to his feet so they could follow his father. The rest of the evening was as surrealistic as their predinner drinks. Dad had actually cooked the meal, albeit with Sally's recipes and advice, and allowed Blair to fix the salad.

The only point of normalcy that entire meal was his father lecturing his lover and him about the wine he'd served for dinner. The rest of the time, he spoke about their positions in the community as cops, academics and as gay men.

Blair didn't make things any easier. All through dinner, he kept looking at Jim or touching him under the table when his father's attention was elsewhere. It was like he couldn't keep his hands off all night. He was used to Blair being demonstrative, but he rarely got this touchy in private, let alone in public. Between his father the gay rights activist and his lover the octopus, Jim was on edge all evening.

And he had to concentrate on his straight act all the time. Dad maybe was comfortable with Jim's sexuality. He didn't need to see anything more. And after letting it go for so long, he found his old butch self didn't fit anymore. Thank God he could take it off when they got home.

That, however, wouldn't be for a long while. There was dinner. There was dessert in the living room - Dad had actually baked a cake. Yes, from a mix, but in all the time Jim had spent growing up, his father had never even opened the oven. He and Steven did all the cooking on Sally's nights off, or they ordered in.

To make matters worse, Blair had offered to make the coffee - and had dragged Jim into the kitchen with him. "I need you to show me where everything is. We'll be back in a few minutes, Mr. Ellison."

Except that Blair had already figured out where the coffee and the coffee maker were - out in plain sight on the counter, with the cups and other things right above it.

Two minutes later, the pot was dripping and Blair had grabbed Jim around the waist. "Oh, man. I've been dying to get you alone all night. Just looking at you that way makes me want to..."

He pulled Jim's head down with one hand and began to kiss him thoroughly, deeply, while the other massaged his rear end through the old jeans. Under other circumstances, Jim would have been pleased and amazed. It had been a long time since Blair had pounced on him like that. However, his father was in the next room, and that put a damper on his response. Even when Blair's hand moved to the front of his jeans.

Jim pulled away from the kiss just long enough to speak. "Not now, sweetcheeks."

Blair got the message right away. He let go immediately and started setting up a tray with cups. Jim sighed in mingled disappointment and relief and got the cream out of the fridge.

"Just wait'll I get you home. I'm going to nail you to the mattress." Blair's breath was hot on his neck as he whispered softly in his ear. Then he hoisted the tray and took it into the living room, leaving Jim to sputter in the kitchen for a moment.

Dad smiled at him when he finally emerged, then continued to dispense advice to Blair, who found a moment to leer at Jim before nodding at his father. The entire evening was simply...surreal.

It became more so when Blair pounced on him in the truck, licking and kissing and groping him as soon as they got the doors closed. "My...my father..."

"Is in the house, finishing his last scotch. Which is not as tasty as you are, Jim." Blair proved that right away, as he unbuttoned Jim's jeans, pulled out his steadily hardening penis and proceeded to swallow it whole.

"Is in the house, finishing his last scotch. Which is not as tasty as you are, Jim." Blair proved that right away, as he unbuttoned Jim's jeans, pulled out his steadily hardening penis and proceeded to swallow it whole.

Jim found himself unable to do more than hang on to the car seat and try to muffle his screams. Blair used his talented mouth to bring him to the edge and back several times. rendering him unable to think. Finally, his orgasm literally exploded out of him. leaving him panting and weak and utterly unable to do more than grin like an idiot.

Blair sat back, licking his lips and smiling. "Guess I'm driving home tonight."

"What...what...you didn't...."

"Not yet. Just wait. I have...plans for you and that sweet butt." With that, he got out of the truck so that Jim, with a great effort, could move to the passenger side and Blair could take over.

Of course, he'd always taken over...Jim played with that delightful thought all the way home.

Blair shushed him when he wanted to comment on the evening. Instead, he turned on the radio and spun the dial. They hit KKRK, which had become all-talk a few months back, specializing in conservative programming. The guy speaking now was among the furthest right - Jim recognized his particularly bombastic style right away.

Adam Hunter. Former minister and current conservative darling, with a syndicated column in half the papers in the country, a semi-regular spot on one of the Sunday talking heads programs and a hatred for all things gay.

He and his callers were ranting about how unnatural it was for a man to dress in women's clothing. Jim thought about Miss Melly and Lady Eve and his other transvestite friends, male and female, gay and straight and clenched his fists.

Blair, his own face set and angry, changed the station quickly, finding a "Classic Rock" station instead. "We do not need to hear that crap tonight. Just ignore it. We'll be home soon." He gave Jim a friendly leer again as he continued to drive home.

Chapter Two

Jim stretched, wincing a little. It has been a long time since Blair had left him quite so deliciously sore. Last night, after they'd gotten home, had been fabulous.

He'd refused to let Jim speak at all. He just dragged him upstairs. Next thing Jim knew, he was kneeling on his bed, clutching the headboard for dear life while Blair took him fast and hard, all the while murmuring about how sexy he'd been that night, how much he'd wanted to touch him just like this.

Jim shivered at the memory. Blair had even called out his name at the end, something he hadn't done in a long time. That by itself made him feel...odd. He couldn't put his finger on it...the sex had been to die for and they'd ended up cuddling as usual, Blair wrapped up around him like a human blanket. How had he ever managed to get to sleep without him all those years?

Now Blair was puttering in the kitchen. Jim had just decided it was time to get up when he was summoned. "James! Breakfast!"

"Coming!" He got up and pulled on his peach silk kimono, the one Blair had found in a consignment store just in time for his birthday. He loved the way it flowed over his body, and the way Blair grinned when he wore it.

He saw it again when he came downstairs. "Good morning, sleepyhead. I have a pan of cholesterol on the stove just waiting for you." Blair dished him up a plate of western omelet.

"You're up early, sweetcheeks." Jim sat down gingerly, to Blair's obvious and sadistic amusement, and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"You don't have a class today, do you?"

Blair shook his head and joined Jim at the table. "I just happened to get up. You were so gone that an earthquake wouldn't have woken you up. No, strike that. If there ever were an earthquake, we'd know in advance when you started howling. But nothing short of an earthquake. I mean, I kissed you and I took a shower and dropped stuff and you were just out."

"Breathe, darling, breathe. Can I help it if somebody completely wore me out last night?"

He grinned. "Yeah, well...this is my second omelet." He indicated his full plate. "We are now totally out of ham and are rapidly running out of eggs, so if you want seconds, you get scrambled."

"And I scramble them myself?"

"You got it."

"Last night was strange. I cannot believe how well you and my dad got along."

"Me, neither. I was expecting this total ogre, and he was acting all...father-in-law-ish."

"Well, look at how your mother treats me."

Blair laughed. "Naomi loves you, man. When she calls me, she asks about her favorite daughter-in-law. And that day you two went shopping...I swear, you bonded over cashmere shawls."

"And how would you know that? If I recall, Poindexter, you were hiding out in some bookstore. And I'd found the most darling sweater for you, too."

"Which is why I was hiding, man. Anyway, that's part of why I'm up early. Don't want to be late to work...not how to build a good rep. And if you don't get a move on, James, Simon is going to have both our asses. And not in a good way."

"He never will have them in a good way. Such a pity, too." He scraped up the last of his eggs, gulped his coffee and, while Blair stacked the dishes and soaked the pots, took his own shower.

Twenty minutes later, he was dressed to his satisfaction, and so happy to be out of last night's masquerade.

Blair didn't give him the leer he wanted, but after last night,the poor man probably didn't have much left.

They got to the station right on time. Simon gave them a pleased smile as they settled in to take care of some paperwork before the next case fell on them.

Which meant they both jumped when Blair's desk phone rang. Blair stared at him with those adorable eyes but Jim just grinned. "Your desk, your call."

He made a face, but picked up the receiver. "Major Crimes, Sandburg speaking." His face lit up. "Dave! How are you, man?"

Ah, yes. Dave Richardson, the Cascade PD's gang liason. He was a good man. Gang crimes, while still a major problem, had decreased during his tenure, and they'd all become good friends. Jim tuned out the conversation so he could concentrate on the pending report, but he caught words like paper and publish and work, so he figured something academic was going on. "Mitch?" Jim looked up at that. "No, I haven't heard from Mitch lately."

Dave's voice was noncommittal. "I was just wondering. I know he's not going to talk to me, but...I do feel sort of responsible for him."

"Not your fault he fell for you, or that you couldn't return it."

"Yeah, but I could have handled it better. Maybe he wouldn't have..."

"Stop beating yourself up, man. He chose to use those razors on his wrists. He has to take responsibility for his choices. We all do. If it makes you happy...last I heard, he was fine. Had a boyfriend and everything."

"But his hand..."

"His bad luck..."

Jim shook his head, remembering the bathroom full of blood. Mitch Green had cut his left wrist so badly that he'd never get full use back - which probably saved his life since he couldn't do a good job on his right. He'd never be a cop again. He also remembered the picture Mitch had sent of his boyfriend...a younger version of Dave.

"Okay. Whatever you say. If you hear from him again, let me know. And let me know when you can start helping me."

"Will do, man. Give our love to your family."

"Will do. Kiss Jim for me."

Blair hung up the phone, and began perusing a report.

"What was all that about?"

"Right, man." Blair chuckled. "Like you didn't hear both sides of the whole thing."

He held up three fingers. "Girl Scout's honor. Until you mentioned Mitch, I heard nothing."

"You know, I'm surprised the Boy Scouts haven't asked you for your Eagle back."

"They can ask." Jim grinned. "So? Are you going to tell me or not?"

"It's so cool. Dave's going back to school to get a degree in anthropology. And he asked me to help him. We're going to see if we can use our knowledge of tribal organizations and so on to help the gangs. Applied anthropology, man!"

"Social engineering?"

"Now, that just sounds ugly. We're not trying to end the gangs..."

"Then what's the point? Colorful basketball teams?"

"You don't understand..."

A well-dressed and vaguely familiar looking older man stared at them for a moment on his way to Simon's office, but they were having too much fun for Jim to pay much attention.

Eventually, the argument ran down and they went back to work. Jim heard, and ignored, the sighs of relief around the bullpen as they stopped the discussion.

"Ellison! Sandburg! Could you join us, please?" Simon's voice rang out from his office.

"Coming, Captain!" Blair winked at Jim and got up. Jim put down his pen and joined him at Simon's door.

The well-dressed man was sitting on the chair opposite Simon's desk. He was a distinguished looking man in his early sixties, with thick silver hair, wearing a well-tailored - custom tailored, unless Jim missed his guess, and Jim never missed his guess about that - but conservatively cut gray suit over a white on white shirt and a darker gray tie with faint red stripes.

He was also wearing an expensive, subtle scent that didn't quite hide a nervous stink. Jim was impressed. According to his heart, the man was truly worried about something, but he betrayed none of that on the surface.

What he did betray was extreme distaste as he took in Jim's carefully chosen outfit - a turquoise blue silk Italian suit over a dark pink shirt and matching tie, a turquoise ring in his ear.

He spared only a glance at Blair, who was wearing his normal layers of shirts and old jeans and had his hair pulled back, exposing his own silver rings.

Simon scowled at the interplay. "Dr. Adam Hunter, allow me to introduce my best team, Detective James Ellison and Dr. Blair Sandburg."

Jim exchanged looks with Blair. No wonder he'd seemed familiar. What was the conservative spokesman doing here? And why was Simon assigning them to work with a well-known homophobe?

"Captain Banks, I must protest. While I am...aware of Detective Ellison's record..."

"Cop of the year." Blair grinned.

Jim could feel himself...loosening up. "Darling, please."

Hunter looked pained. "As I was saying, Captain Banks...are you sure that a man with...Detective Ellison's...proclivities should be working on this case? Considering what it's about?"

"Dr. Hunter, trust me. I could not assign a better team for this case. As for you, Jim...behave."

"Yes...sir." He and Blair settled themselves on the conference table. Blair grinned at him and brushed his hand.

"You behave, too, Sandburg."

"Yes, Captain."

"Very well, Captain Banks. But I accept them under protest. Surely, Dr. Sandburg can work with someone else?"

"He can. But he's not. Dr. Hunter, in my unit we judge officers by their solve and conviction rate, and that is all."

Hunter turned white. "I will protest this treatment, Banks. And the inappropriate men you have assigned. However, I need your help."

"Excuse me, Simon, but what is the case? We could be working on reports."

"Good point. Dr. Hunter is being blackmailed, gentlemen."

"How are you being blackmailed, Dr. Hunter?" Jim let the cop, who didn't care how bigoted the victim was, take over. Who didn't care much, in any case.

Hunter took a plastic zipbag off Simon's desk. "We got this this morning in my office." He handed it to Jim.

He read the note outloud. "We know your little secret, hatemonger. If you want to keep it a secret, you'll do what we ask. We'll be in touch, hatemonger. And no tattling to your friends, the police. Much love, PTU"

It was laser-printed on standard paper. There was no way to identify it that way. "Dr. Hunter, how was this delivered?"

"My secretary found it this morning, in an envelope pushed under the door. Captain Banks has the envelope, too."

"Anything written there?" Blair took the bag with the note.

"Not a thing, Dr. Sandburg. It was just a plain, business sized envelope." Blair nodded, frowning.

"And there's been no further contact?"

"Not yet. Angie, my secretary, would have called if there had been."

Blair nodded again, turning the note over in his hands.

"Blair?" Simon looked at him curiously. "What is going on in that brain of yours?"

Blair took a deep breath and smoothed some stray curls back over his head. "Why are you here, Dr. Hunter?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you here? The note clearly says not to come to the police."

"Because I will not allow criminals to tell me what to do."

Hunter, already dignified, pulled himself up and sat tall in his chair when he said those words. Jim found himself admiring the man, much against his will.

"Will you risk having this secret of yours exposed to the world?" Blair looked the man straight in the eyes.

"I hope that you will catch these people before that occurs, but, yes. I will take that risk. No matter what the cost to...my reputation."

"You feel that strongly, sir?" Jim felt his respect increase. He reminded himself that the note was right. He was a homophobe and a hatemonger.

"Yes."

"Dr. Hunter?"

"Yes, Captain Banks?"

"We discussed this before I called my men in, but I think we need to ask it again. It might be helpful to know at least something about this secret of yours."

"I am not comfortable with that, sir."

"Then how do you expect us to help you?" Blair banged the table with his fist. "We don't know who is doing this, and we don't know why they're doing it, or what they're doing it about. We don't even know what they want! We're blind here. We need all the information you can give us."

"My partner is right. We can't go in here totally blind. I can promise you this - we will keep your secret."

Hunter looked at Jim again, his eyes flickering over the pink and turquoise, and then at the hand covering Blair's. "I know you people hate me."

"We're only returning the compliment you give us, Dr. Hunter."

"The point remains. How can I trust you?"

Adam Hunter had green eyes, with flecks of blue and brown. They seemed to look through Jim's.

"Dr. Hunter. I don't like you. I don't like what you stand for or the things you say about 'us people.' I could pretend otherwise, but I gave up pretending a while ago." Blair looked at him sharply. "I'm being honest with you. Can you do the same for me?"

Hunter chuckled. "You have a point, detective. The main problem is, it's not my secret to tell. At least not entirely. I'll tell you what I can."

"Whatever you can will be a help." Jim put on a smile.

"Very well. If you look at my official biography, it mentions that I have two sons and a daughter, plus grandchildren and a great-grand child." Jim nodded. "It lies."

The bald, flat words echoed in Simon's office.

He repeated them. "My biography lies. My wife, may God rest her soul, gave birth to four children, three of them boys. I gave the oldest one my name, taught him as best I could to follow the ways of God, the same way my father taught me, the same way I taught the others. When he was twenty years old, he told me he rejected those teachings, me and his name. At his own request, he is no longer my son."

Chapter Three

"Your son disowned you?" Simon's voice was shocked.

"Well, let us say that we came to a...mutual decision. I have not seen him or heard of him since. I...I don't even know if he's alive, but I pray he is."

"You pray for him?"

"Yes, Captain. And for those like him." Jim caught his eye for a moment. Hunter took a deep breath. "If it became known that a child I raised has embraced this lifestyle, it will hurt me. It would probably hurt him if it became known that I did raise him. For these reasons, I would rather it would not be known, but if it happened, I will survive it. So will he." He sounded resigned, not defiant.

"Have you heard of PTU before? Have they contacted you before?"

"No, detective. Until today, I had no idea this...group, I assume, existed. I have no idea what the initials mean. Have you?"

Jim shook his head. "No, sir. But it's still our best lead. We'll be in touch with anything we find."

"Thank you." Hunter stood up and offered his hand to the other three men. Blair simply stared at it. Hunter tightened his lips but made no comment, and shook Jim's and Simon's before he left.

"What was that about, Sandburg?"

"I can't shake his hand. I could hardly stand being in the same room with him. How could either of you manage it? Jim, he wants us rounded up and put in concentration camps. He probably wants me in a different one than you."

"Tell me now, Sandburg. Will this be a problem for you? Will it affect your ability to work this case?"

Blair was silent for a moment. Then he reached for Jim's hand. "I...right now, I'm okay. There's his son and all. But...if it changes, I'll let you know. Just don't leave me alone with him, or make me shake his hand. I don't know how either of you...especially you, Jim...manage it."

"Practice, darling. Practice." Jim rubbed Blair's shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles. "I know what he says. But he's a victim here. He's not the criminal."

Blair smiled - exactly the same tight smile that Hunter had used earlier - and nodded. "But I'm not going to shake his hand."

Simon let out a breath. "Agreed."

Blair smiled - exactly the same tight smile that Hunter had used earlier - and nodded. "But I'm not going to shake his hand."

Simon let out a breath. "Agreed."

Blair sat down on Hunter's vacated chair and dropped his head into his hands. "I should be getting such evil vibes off of him, and they aren't there. Something doesn't fit."

Jim dropped a hand on his shoulder. "He's not evil, sweetie. What he says is wrong and I will fight to the death to keep it from happening, but..."

"If he wants these things, if he wants the whole conservative agenda that'll throw us back into the dark ages, how can he be anything else, James?"

"Because he's not in it for the power or the money." Simon spoke slowly and thoughtfully. "He's in it because he sincerely believes it. I've heard him speak. I don't like what he has to say. There are times I have to change the station before I just destroy the radio. But...I don't hate him."

"Someone does, Simon. And we have to find out who. Not for him, darling, or his Neandertal fans, but because..."

Blair looked up and smiled through his hair. "Because it's what we do, James? Where do we start?"

Jim grinned and kissed his cheek. "That's my man. We start with the information we have. An anonymous letter from an unknown organization slipped under their door, and found first thing in the morning. Now, what does that tell us?"

"It tells us that someone had access to the office either late night or early morning. Someone who knew about Hunter's son...that he existed, where he is and who he is. What he is, too."

"Okay. So...we're going to interview the secretary and find out who has access to the building."

Blair nodded. "And then we'll do a search for TPU, assuming that whoever sent the letter isn't Timothy Peter Unger or something."

Jim grinned. "I wouldn't mind that at all. How about you, Simon, dear?"

"Don't call me 'dear.' And, no, I wouldn't mind that, either. Go. Interview the lady. Charm her pants off."

Jim made a face, echoed by Blair. "You don't have to be crude, Simon."

"Just get out of my office and get some work done."

"Yes, dear." Jim dropped a kiss on his head as he left. Blair followed, chuckling.

"We can be there in twenty minutes, Ms. Jones. I'm so sorry. Mrs. Jones. Yes. Thank you. God bless you, too." Jim shook his head as he hung up the phone.

Blair looked up from his computer search. "All set?"

"Yeah. I hope I don't freak the poor lady out. Let's go."

Mrs. Jones was a sweet-faced, silver-haired lady in a tailored skirt and blouse, and much too much perfume. The only person he knew who did that was a biker dyke who hung out in Club Purple.

When she shook his hand, there were odd callouses, as if she were an avid gardener. She welcomed them into the office and promptly offered them a choice of coffee and tea, and then proceeded to make the coffee from scratch.

"Detective Ellison, that's a very unusual suit you are wearing. I don't believe I've ever seen one quite that color before. Certainly, the late Mr. Jones never wore one like that, nor dear Dr. Hunter." She handed them large mugs of what turned out to be fairly weak coffee.

"This old thing? It's just something I tossed on."

"Well, it brings out your eyes, dear. Now, what did you boys want?"

Blair leaned forward. "Mrs. Jones, you know we're here about that note Dr. Hunter found this morning."

She nodded. "Horrible thing it was, too. I was so upset."

Jim patted her hand. "I'm sure it was, sweetheart."

"You don't know how I felt. I came in this morning and got things set up just as Dr. Hunter likes them...coffee made, all mail on his desk...the poor man gets hundreds of letters a day, but he looks at all of them, even the hateful ones."

"Then what?"

"I don't know how I missed it the first time. I stepped on it as I walked in...the envelope was all dented from my foot. It was just inside the door."

"Was anything written on the envelope?"

She shook her head. "It wasn't even sealed. It just had the flap tucked in. So, of course, I opened it. I don't mind telling you boys, I was shaken. Who would do such a thing to dear Dr. Hunter? Who?"

Jim stroked her hand. "There are evil people in this world."

"Oh, I know it. Dr. Hunter fights against them all the time. All he wants is to make our country the good, moral, Christian place our forefathers intended it to be. Is that wrong, Dr. Sandburg?"

Blair blinked. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but, to Jim's amusement, nothing came out. "Umm. He has definite goals, doesn't he?"

"Oh, my, yes. I do not understand why they called him a hatemonger. I've never seen anyone as filled with love as that dear man."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Jones." Blair got up and moved to the large window on the other side of the office. Jim could hear him muttering that he was calm as he did.

He had to fight his need to comfort him. Blair was dealing. Instead, he took a sip of his coffee.

"What is wrong with your friend, detective?"

"Let's just say that certain...types of people make him upset. Now, what did you do once you opened the letter?"

Mrs. Jones looked at Blair, who was doing deep breathing exercises. "Such a sensitive young man. I didn't do anything. I finished getting the office ready. I get in around eight in the morning; Dr. Hunter comes in at eight thirty. On the dot. I noticed it about...let's see. The coffee was about done...a quarter after. So fifteen minutes later."

"Then what?"

"Why, when he came in, I showed the horrid thing to him. He turned white. Absolutely white. Next thing, he went to his office and said to cancel his appointments for the day, and to screen all calls. Then he closed himself in his office. An hour later, he went down to your station and he hasn't been back."

That gibed with the time Hunter came to talk to Simon. "Do you know where he is?"

"He's gone to the radio station for his afternoon show, of course. He never misses one. Hunter's Arrow - 1PM to 3PM daily. He needs to get his materials in order, and, of course, today he's terribly distressed."

"Ah. So he needs the extra time?"

"Wouldn't you, detective, if someone sent you something that hateful?"

Jim nodded. "Thank you for your time, dear lady. I appreciate it and your coffee very, very much." He stood up and bent over her hand. She giggled.

"Anytime, detective. I'll be only too glad to help."

"I'm sure. Chief? We're leaving. Chief?"

Blair looked up. "Oh...okay. Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Jones. I'm sorry for..."

"It's quite all right. I feel the same way. Take care and God bless, boys."

They waved as they left the office, Jim's hand at the small of Blair's back.

To his intense relief, this kept Blair from exploding all the way down the elevator and into the parking garage. By the time they reached the truck, Blair was shaking with the effort to keep things under control.

He sat in the truck, clenching and unclenching his fists, breathing hard from the effort not to scream. "She...she...every thing she said...the way...oh, God, James. She believed it all."

"I know, Chief." He pulled Blair closer.

"She was so...so nice. Motherly. And...God. 'A good, Christian, moral...' She didn't even know why I was upset, did she?"

"No."

"How? How can someone so nice, so kind - like Hunter. He's educated. That doctorate is real. He went to Stanford, he got a degree in political science."

"That doesn't mean anything, darling. You know that."

"I know. She...she just...assumed we felt the same way. That there is only one right way to feel."

Jim shook his head. "And you don't? I mean, if she's been as to the left as she is to the right, you'd be in love with her."

"Yeah, but that's because then she'd be right." Blair chuckled a little. "Yeah, I know. But, her lord and master wants to impose his views on us all legally. And in his universe, I'd have two strikes against me, and that scares me more." He let go of Jim and sat up straight in his seat. "Okay, I'm cool now."

"Sure you are, Chief." Jim rolled his eyes before starting the truck. He pulled out of the spot as Blair found the ticket and got out Jim's badge to wave at the parking attendant. "I gotta say, though - Hunter's as homophobic as they come, and his agenda would crack down hard on all minorities, but I've never heard him be actively racist or antisemitic."

"No, he hasn't, nothing overt. I mean, he's said nasty things about Wicca, and that's bad enough, but not about any other belief system. Except...God. I cringe when he talks about a 'good, Christian nation.'"

Jim pulled onto the street leading to the station. "Doesn't leave much room for anyone else, does it?"

"That's my worry. Not that he'd ever come to power, right, Jim?"

"Right, Chief." They drove in silence for a while, Blair's hand grasping Jim's. "Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"You hungry? It's about 12:30."

"I could eat, yeah. How does falafel sound?"

"Works for me."

They carried their lunch back to the bullpen, where they handed one to Simon, who looked rather non-plussed at the concoction, even when Blair assured him it was edible, if messy. Then they made their report on the secretary.

Jim found himself doing all the talking, though. Blair was still having anger issues, apparently. He'd had to put his pita sandwich down before he deformed it.

"Okay. So it's pretty well confirmed that the letter was there before 8AM. That's at least something." Simon glanced at his watch. "Okay, you two. I hate to do this, especially when you have these fine...whatever they are...but Hunter's radio program is on now. Go listen to it."

"No way, man. I can't do it." Blair began to pace around the office.

"You don't have a choice, Sandburg. Anything can be a clue to his blackmailers. Anything he says. Also, we need to be sure he doesn't drop hints he's been to see us."

"Come on, Chief. You can't let me listen to him alone. You have to be there to hold my hand." Jim batted his eyelashes.

"Only for you, James." Blair looked at him with a combination of love and exasperation. "You have a radio available, Simon?"

"I have one ready for you. There's an interrogation room free. Take your lunches and listen there. And...Sandburg?"

"Yes?"

"It's city property. Don't toss it against the wall, or it comes out of your paycheck. Hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Captain."

Chapter Four

Jim carried the radio to the interrogation room. He could hear Blair grumbling behind him, muttering about above and beyond the call of duty and his meager salary. Jim, knowing Blair couldn't see him, just grinned.

"And I know you're smiling, James. Just remember who you're going home with."

"Yes, dear." He exchanged the radio for the bag of food so that he could set things out properly while Blair found an outlet for the box and tuned it to the AM talk station.

They sat through a couple of commercials and the top of the hour news and weather report while eating the sandwiches.

"Arrgh!" Blair dabbed at some fallen homous with a napkin. "How do you manage it?"

Jim licked his fingers neatly. "Do what?"

"Eat falafels with french fries and extra homous in head to toe silk and not spill a drop?"

"Talent, darling. Talent."

"Riiight." Jim watched him finish his pita, licking away sauce from the corners of his mouth. Jim loved Blair's mouth. It was so talented in so many areas....

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is Adam Hunter on Hunter's Arrow, shooting straight to the truth." Blair's lips narrowed to a hard, angry line.

"Calm down, Chief." Jim took Blair's hand. "It's only words."

"Yeah, right. Words." His nails dug into Jim's palm. Jim just smiled at him. "And since I worship the first amendment, I can't even ask to get his...words...off the air."

"...more violence in our schools. When will it end, do you ask? When will our precious children be safe in their classrooms or on the streets? When will this country realize how bad things have become? When we all stand together and protest the media and the violence it shows to our children. We owe it to them to make our airways pure..."

"Looks like he doesn't share your religion, sweetcheeks." Jim took a sip of his coffee.

"Damn right he doesn't." Blair tore his hand free and began pacing the room, occasionally making remarks about the various people who called in to pay homage to the great Dr. Hunter. Jim stayed seated, and tried to listen to Hunter's words, but found them hard to absorb.

After an hour, he was ready to give up. Hunter had said nothing useful, and it didn't look like he was. "Blair, maybe..."

"Jim...listen."

He concentrated. "...professor. This young man had been given many gifts - health, good looks, a brilliant, incisive mind, a promising career. Yet, when we spoke, the only thing in his heart was anger. His heart was hard and it was closed to anything I could say. He could have and should have what he, what all of us deserve...peace and joy and love, but he rejected all of it in favor of his anger..."

"How dare he!" Jim jumped up from his seat. "How can that...that man say those hateful, horrid things about you? I...I...I want to scratch his eyes out....I want to...Simon has to hear who we're..."

Blair stood against the wall, his eyes wide open. "Jim...Jim...James! Calm down! Now!"

"How can you be so calm? He's lying about you! He met you for five minutes and he's lying about you!"

"...owe it to our sons and our daughters to show them that anger is not the way, to make the most of the gifts God has given them, to keep their hearts open and loving..."

Jim found himself enfolded in Blair's arms. "It's okay, James. I'm not insulted. Calm down."

"I'm sorry, Chief. I know what sort of a heart you have. I know it's kind and loving and...that horrid man!"

"....Hunter, I pray you can reach that poor boy. Under your guidance, he could..."

"You're the only one who counts. He's nothing at all."

"...I can do for him until he opens his own heart, dear lady..."

Jim nodded, but he was still angry. How dare the man do this? Hold up his Blair as an example of...of...what was the man thinking?

"You okay?" Blair stood back and looked at him.

"Oh, yes." He let go of Blair and sat down. "My mind is in a whirl, though. You never met him before, have you, darling?"

"Believe me. If I did, you would have known." Blair grinned. "You would have heard about it all night."

"He's only met you for five minutes, then. And, darling, while I find you endlessly fascinating...ow!"

"Like that hurt." Blair grinned and kissed the place on Jim's shoulder he'd just tapped.

"Anyway, as I was saying before you became violent, why is Hunter so taken with you?"

"He wants to make a convert?"

"I don't think so. His callers are bringing in religion. He didn't. And, anyway, he'd do it in private, not confront you in public like this. He has to know you'd be listening. It doesn't make sense. Something is just off here."

Blair shrugged. "Who knows how men like that think? He saw a couple of guys he thought were gay, and he can't pick on you because you're helping him."

"So are you."

Jim's mind refused to think about the phrase "he thought were gay".

"You're the cop, man. And that's the other thing. How could he talk about you without mentioning that you're a cop? And that would queer everything with the blackmailers."

"So why talk about either of us? It doesn't make a bit of sense. Listen to them now."

"....to change his ways. Nothing he decides now needs to be permanent..."

Blair frowned. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"See what I mean? He's talking about you but he has no reason to do it. And I do not like it. It's as if he's trying to make you angry."

"Too late for that, man. He made me angry years ago. This isn't going to do it. But it's working for you."

"He's trying to hurt you. Of course I'm upset. Oh, God. He's praying for you." Jim saw red.

"Oh, God. He is. He actually is. I'm being prayed for on national radio. I gotta tell my mom."

Jim could only stare at his partner in amazement. "You are insane. You are being insulted on the air, and you want to tell your mother?"

"I'm not being insulted. It's a compliment. I got under that guy's skin. Cool! And, I know I can't. It'll blow the case. But when it's over..." Blair grinned.

Jim shook his head. "You are insane."

"That's why you love me." Blair's smile just set his heart racing. "He's signing off now."

"And this has been the Hunter's Arrow, straight to the truth. I wish you all God's blessing this day, and until next time. Good-bye."

"That torture's over." Jim stood and stretched. "Did you ever find anything about that organization before?"

"Not a thing. I'd better get back to it before we lose the rest of the day."

"Oh, yes."

"Maybe I'll put in some overtime or something."

"Not a bad idea, darl...you can't."

Blair stared at him. "No?"

"We almost forgot. Dinner with the girls tonight." And they were supposed to bring the dessert. Jim just knew he wouldn't have time to bake.

"Oh, my God. Marble cake, right? Wanna pick up a mix?"

"We'll get something from Collette's. Besides, it doesn't take that much longer to make from scratch. As you would know if you ever baked." He grinned. Blair hated to measure anything.

Blair grinned at him and began to expand on the pleasures of cooking by feel all the way to the bullpen. Jim made a perfunctory comment or two, but Blair was so adorable when he chattered on that mostly he watched and listened. Blair created entire menus from clear air as he called up search engine after search engine, looking for the initials.

Two hours later, they were standing in Simon's office. "We've had no luck at all, Captain."

"Search was fruitless...oh. Sorry."

"You are not sorry in the least, my dear." Indeed, Simon was doing his best not to grin.

"He's been waiting all day to say that." Blair glared at him, not quite hiding his own smile.

"I plead the fifth." Simon mock-growled. He took what information they had and sent them home early, which was exactly what Jim was hoping would happen.

He mixed up a cake while Blair showered and shaved and then told him to listen for the timer while he got himself ready for a night with the girls. Tonight, he'd be himself. Ah. The khakis were pressed. He'd wear them with the new white t-shirt and the blue striped vest. He carefully added eyeliner and decided his current earring matched well-enough. Fabulous. He blew a kiss to his reflection in the three-way mirror.

Blair was just putting the layers of cake on the cooling racks. Jim stopped to admire the view. Blair was wearing a darker pair of khakis, wrinkled but clean, and a red plaid shirt tucked in - also unpressed.

"I am going to have to teach you to use an iron, sweetcheeks."

He turned and smiled. "No way, man." Jim watched his eyes sweep up and down.

He pirouetted. "Like what you see, lover?"

Blair said nothing. Instead, he began pulling cocoa and confectioner's sugar from the cabinet. "Why don't I make the frosting?"

"Darling?"

"You look wonderful, James. As ever. But we need to get this done - the guys are expecting us in an hour, and it'll take forty-five minutes just to get there."

Jim blinked in confusion. Last night, Blair was all over him. Tonight, he was getting out butter and the handmixer. "Darling?"

"Yes, James?" He began measuring - measuring! - the ingredients for chocolate frosting.

"You all right? I mean, if you're tired or something, I can call Melly and cancel. She'll be disappointed, but she knows how hard you work..."

"I'm fine. Besides, it's his birthday. I couldn't hurt his feelings like that." He turned on the handmixer.

By some miracle, he didn't get any powdered sugar or cocoa on his clothes. Even so, Jim insisted on taking over the frosting detail while Blair hunted out the cake carrier. Their hands touched when Blair handed the carrier to him, and for a minute, there was that smile, and Blair kissed him on the cheek.

Jim locked the cake securely in the carrier. Blair was just tired.

When this was over, they'd go on a vacation someplace.

Just the two of them.

"Jimmy, darling! You look fabulous in that vest!" Melly greeted them at the door with open arms. She was wearing a gold brocade smoking jacket and dark wool pants. "Just let me take that piece of temptation from you, child. Oh, you look just as delicious. Doesn't he, Evie?"

Evie, behind him, intercepted the cake carrier before Melly could take it from Blair. She looked lovely and casual in a sweater and denim skirt. The drag queen had practically moved in after Melly's long term lover had been murdered. "He does, Miss Melly. He does. You are such a selfish girl, Jimmy, keeping this scrumptious boy from the rest of us."

Jim grinned and hugged both of them. "Would you?"

Blair rolled his eyes at all of them as he embraced his hostesses and let himself be kissed. "You guys are just too much. Can I help with anything?"

"Oh, no, darling boy. I have it all under control. You and Miss Jimmy here keep Melly company while I get dinner."

"You sure? I make a mean salad dressing."

"Jimmy love, you trust me alone with him?"

"No. But I trust Blair. And I trust that you remember I'm armed." Jim smiled. "Melly and I will just have a bit of girl talk in the living room." He took Melly's hand and escorted her in.

"Where's my kitty cat, darling?"

"Buster is in my bedroom, along with his litter box. Now, don't pout, dear. You know what happens around him." Jim nodded as he took his own seat. "And I hate it when you wheeze. It's frightening, and poor Blair just gets beside himself."

"I just wish..." He shook his head. Melly was right. "So...I've been out of touch. Again. Dish. "

"Oh, I have the best gossip. For one thing, Rich is seeing someone so closeted I was surprised, and you know how good my gaydar is..." Jim only half listened to her. He kept some of his attention focused on the kitchen, where Blair was chatting about Melly and local politics with Evie as they got dinner together.

Evie stuck her tongue out at Melly, before taking Jim and all salad dishes into the kitchen.

She began dishing food into serving bowls. Jim took a spoon and a platter and did the same. He took stock of the offerings. "Chicken. Vegetables. No potatoes. Nothing fried."

"We're going easy on the fat and carbohydrates. That's what her doctor said."

"Her numbers really are that bad?"

Evie, not looking at Jim, nodded. "Worse, actually. I've been trying, Jimmy. I really have. And that cat has been a help, for when I can't be here. But...she and Freddy...they'd been together for thirty years. You know? I mean, that was longer than my...my real parents."

Jim nodded. "Mine didn't last half that long. They were divorced before I was ten."

"You know, I always thought they'd outlive all of us. I certainly thought they'd outlive me." Evie put a bunch of parsley on the dish of steamed carrots.

"How are you? How are your numbers?"

Finally, she turned to look at him. Her makeup was streaked with tears. "I'm good. My T-cell count is high. Not a symptom at all. I'm practically rattling with all those pills, but I'm good."

Jim bit his lip and wrapped his arms around her. "Just keep rattling, girl."

"Hey! Some of us are hungry out here!"

They broke apart, laughing. "Thanks, Jimmy. I needed that." They each picked a couple of serving dishes and went back out into the dining room.

Chapter Five

Blair took one look at the various low fat and whole grain offerings and whistled. "Evie's really keeping an eye on you, isn't he?"

Melly nodded. "She won't let me eat anything." She eyed the plate Evie was filling for her. Jim did the same for the one Blair was making for him...he was piling far too many carrots and not enough chicken.

"Chief, that chicken is...skinless." He suppressed a shudder.

"Melly's not the only one we want around for a good long time, James. Eat your veggies." Blair grinned.

"Yes, dear." Jim put on a face and did as he was told.

"So, my darlings...you will never guess what happened today." Melly grimaced and took a mouthful of steamed broccoli and brown rice.

"Tell us."

Evie leaned forward to pour some wine into Melly's glass.

"It was absolutely delicious...like these would be with just a touch of butter, Evie." Evie stuck out her tongue.

"Tell us, already."

"Well...since the gallery is between showings, I spent the afternoon all by myself. So, with no company except for my baby Buster and nothing on television but soap operas and talk shows - so boring - I turned on the radio, hoping for something decent playing. And, purely by chance, I found this horrible thing by that conservative homophobe...you know the one..."

Evie froze in midbite while Jim and Blair looked at each other. "'Hunter's Arrow', Miss Melly?"

"Why, yes, baby girl. I didn't listen for long - he made my toes curl - but he described someone who sounded exactly like our Dr. Blair. Now, there's no way you'd know someone like that, would you, dear?"

"Excuse me, Melly. I have to...I have to...I'll be back." Blair nearly knocked his chair over in his rush to leave the room.

"Oh, dear. Did I say something?"

Jim carefully folded his napkin. "He's...very sensitive, darling. I'll go take care of him."

He followed the sound of muffled laughter to the bathroom down the hall. The door was unlocked, so he opened it and leaned against the doorway. "You know, you really have to control your emotions, Chief."

"I'm famous, Jim! I'm the poor man who is too angry to be helped." Blair blinked and his laughter turned to fury so quickly Jim got whiplash. "And I'm going to walk into my classroom tomorrow, and at least one of those students is going to have heard it. How the hell am I going to explain it to them."

"You loved it this afternoon."

"This afternoon, we'd just spent the morning with him and his secretary. This afternoon, it was a joke that I figured only we'd get." Blair got up from the toilet seat and began pacing from the sink to the end of the tub and back. It wasn't a big bathroom, so a circuit didn't take long. "This is something else. This is...people are going to be talking about me."

"They've done that before. When I - when we - came out. You lived."

Blair shook his head. "That's not the same. I mean, even at the station, you remember. They figured something was up before we ever did anything. This is...this is someone talking about me and...anger and self-denial and...he has no right do that in front of everyone." His eyes flashed.

"That's what I thought before. In the station. You laughed."

"I know. I was stupid. James, we have to call him. People are going to wonder how we met. I mean, they're not going to ask him how he met Dr. Blair Sandburg, because it doesn't work that way, but they're going to ask me how I know him, and I know I can shade things so no one will think it's a case and all, but he has to know what he did."

"Yeah."

"And someone is going to make the wrong connection, or maybe it's the right one, and know that he went to the police, and it's going to mess up everything and, James, we have to call him. Now." His breath was coming fast and shallow, and there was an edge of panic to his voice.

"We will, darling, but first, you have to calm down." He took Blair by the hand and sat him on the seat again, kneeling next to him. "Maybe this is a good thing."

"How?" He gripped Jim's hand tightly. "I mean, my reputation...people are going to think I hang around with him."

Jim shook his head. He would not laugh. He refused to laugh. "Darling, no one will ever think you've gone over to the radical right."

"You sure? I mean, I do have to keep my liberal academic credentials." Blair managed a smile.

"Yeah, Sandburg. I'm talking about the case, Dr. Ego. If the blackmailers do make a connection...and that's not too likely..."

"About as likely as Melly listening to him today?"

"You got me there." Jim smiled and kissed Blair's cheek. "Maybe it'll get the blackmailers to act. And then we can finish this damn case and not have to talk to Hunter again."

"Amen to that."

Blair stood up and hugged Jim. Jim held him as close as he could, burying his nose in Blair's hair.

Then he let go. "The girls are waiting for us. You can practice your obfuscation on them."

"I hate that. I don't want to lie to those guys."

Something was wrong with that statement. Jim frowned and shook his head to clear it. He looked down at his lover, who had turned to the mirror in the gilded little room and was combing his hair. "I'd offer, but I'm not very good at lying."

Blair narrowed his eyes. His reflection did the same thing. He then shook his own head, his curls settling down to their normal pattern. "Whatever you say, James." He waited a beat and then turned and smiled. "Let's go."

They walked back to the dining room toghther. Jim placed his hand on the small of Blair's back. Blair gave him a blinding grin, reached behind himself and took it as they walked.

Melly jumped out of her seat. "Are you all right, Blair, darling?"

"Please, Melly. Sit down. I'm just fine. That Hunter thing threw me." Jim waited until first Melly and then Blair sat down before sitting himself.

Evvie looked up from adding cream and sugar to her coffee, brushing her hair back from her face in a familiar gesture. "Blair, do we have to talk about that awful man? I can't even bear to listen to him on the radio." Evie's eyes flashed bright green, in contrast to her carefully langurous expression. They looked oddly familiar. Jim chided himself. He'd known Evie for years. Of course her eyes looked familiar.

Blair shrugged and reached for some cake. "Works for me. Oh, wow. Carrot cake...my favorite."

Jim took a bite off Blair's plate. "Not bad. But how could they ruin something as purely bad for you as cake with carrots?" He smiled.

"Because that the only way to get some people to actually eat carrots." Jim relaxed as they fell into one of their standard discussions. Everything was just fine.

The dinner party broke up around ten o'clock, when Melly started to yawn. They said good bye at the door with hugs and kisses and promises to be careful and to take care of each other. With a final demand that Melly or Evie call them if they needed anything, they left the apartment and walked hand-in-hand to Jim's truck.

Jim climbed into the passenger side. Blair gave him a look and took the keys. "You sure about this, man?"

"Don't you want to drive?" Jim smiled to himself. Blair always wanted to drive.

"Yeah, but it's your truck."

"Drive, darling."

"Yes!" He got behind the wheel and got the truck started. "You're out of gas, James. Want to stop someplace tonight?"

Jim shrugged as he fastened his seatbelt. "Sounds good to me. There's a little station not too far from here." Jim gave the address.

"Yeah. I know that one. Cute attendant." Blair shot a look at Jim as he pulled out.

Jim leered. "Why do you think I want to go there? That boy fills out a pair of coveralls..." Blair laughed and began to negotiate the quiet streets.

To Jim's relief, the station was still open. Blair pulled up by a pump. They had a brief staring match to determine who would actually pump the gas. Jim, as usual, lost. He rolled his eyes in mock protest and went to the minimarket to give money to the counter person.

The minimarket was brightly lit, and there was a car sitting in one of the slots in front. There was a man sitting in the driver's seat, but that was hardly unusual. Except he jumped when he saw Jim pass by. If he hadn't, Jim wouldn't have spared him a glance.

As it was, he focused in on the guy's face. Oh, the man looked familiar, but nothing came to mind immediately, except that he was ugly. Didn't matter - there were too many faces in his past, for good and for bad. There was no way he could walk in without the guy seeing him.

Thinking quickly, he walked around back of the minimarket, where he knew they'd put the rest rooms. This put him out of sight of the driver and who ever was in the store.

He hit speed dial and told Blair to take down the license plate of the car and to keep an eye on it. Blair told him he had it covered, and that he should find out what was happening. Taking his suggestion, Jim focused his hearing inside the store and listened for anything. Three hearts, all beating fast. One had to be the clerk, scared to death. The other two had to be just excited and nervous about something. Still nothing conclusive, but more than enough to make him worried.

He checked. Men's room door and women's room door, both clearly marked with sexually stereotyped figures. Two more. One had to be a delivery entrance. He tested the door. Locked. Did he have time to pick it? He tested the other door. Also locked. Okay.

He took out his lockpick kit. He listened carefully as he tried the tools. Door one opened quickly. The room was filled with shelves of chips and nuts and other non-perishables. Must have been a recent delivery. He ignored the smell of salt, grease and flavorings as he looked for the entrance to the main part of the building.

He stood by the door and listened. "I don't have the money, dude! I swear!" Sounded like a sixteen year old. One scared out of his wits. "Please, don't hurt me."

"Tell us the combination, and we won't shoot you." The door opened and closed. "Who the hell are you?" The newcomer must have distracted him.

"Hey, hey, you don't to do that, man."

Blair. What the hell was he doing there? Jim didn't need to hear more. He held his gun in both hands and pushed his way through the intervening door. "Police! Freeze!"

He allowed his reflexes to take over. Two men in jeans and flannel standing by the counter, pimply kid on the other side, eyes wide. Blair standing by the closed door, hands in the air. One of the men had a gun pointed at Blair; the other had an empty sack in his hands. They were all looking at Jim. The room was filled with the scent of fear.

"Okay, big guy. Drop the gun. Now."

"You'd better do it, man." Jim could see Blair looking right into the gunman's eyes. "Unless you want him to shoot you."

"I'll get you first." The man took a step towards

"All of you...on the ground, now!" The kid and the other guy dropped immediately, but the gun man and Blair stayed standing their ground. "You two! Down!" Jim prayed that Blair would listen.

"Your hand is shaking. You'll miss, and the cop'll get you. Listen to him."

The gunman shook his head, and took aim.

"Dammit, Sandburg! Get the hell down!" Jim pointed his weapon at the gunman. The gunman took a step towards Blair. Blair finally fell to the floor just as the man squeezed the trigger. The bullet went wild and hit a display of corn chips and salsa.

"Good going, Mr. IQ. You just tried to shoot my partner."

"Y-your...he's a...damn." The gunman dropped his piece on the ground. Blair pulled a bandanna out of his pocket - Jim remembered giving him the colorful package at his last birthday - and used it to pick up the gun by the handle and put on the safety. He stood up and handed the weapon to Jim. He did more than that. Blair looked at Jim in a way that he hadn't seen in a long time - a mixture of pure lust and something else. Admiration? Whatever it was, it sent a message straight to Jim's groin.

Blair leaned close. "Sorry I didn't listen, Jim."

"Why didn't you..why the hell did you even come in here?"

"I was worried about you, man. You disappeared. And there is only so long a guy can sit in a car waiting, you know?" Blair licked his lips.

Jim did his best to ignore that. He failed, but at least he hoped nothing showed on his face. Blair was just too sexy. "You have a point, Chief, but you had no idea if they were...you called back up?" He could hear sirens in the distance.

"The car had been reported stolen." Blair shrugged.

"Good thinking, then. Hold it!" Jim turned at the sound of sneakers against the floor of the minimart. "Get back on the ground, you! Sandburg, cuff him for me." Jim reached into his back pocket for the manacles and handed them to his partner, smiling a little at the brief contact. Blair did more than smile - he winked. But he also took the cuffs and efficiently restrained the gunman.

The sirens came closer. "You think maybe I should make this official, Sandburg?"

"Be a good idea, Jim." Blair went to the other man and pushed him over to his friend. "Now you can do both at once." He then went to kneel over the kid. Jim was not surprised to see the boy hold on to Blair like a lifeline.

Jim smiled and tossed his head. "Okay, boys. You're now under arrest. You have the right to remain..."

Five minutes later, the unit pulled up at the minimart door. They took charge of the two potential thieves. Blair stood by the kid as he gave his statement, holding on to his shoulder. Then the two of them managed to tell what happened without mentioning superhearing at all. Jim wasn't happy about that, but it was necessary and they were used to it. Then, to his delight, the uniform suggested that they just go home. It would be morning by the time those two were processed, and, anyway, it wouldn't hurt them to spend the night in a holding cell.

The two began screaming for a lawyer as soon as the uniformed officers dragged them to the unit.

"Th...thanks..." The kid stared at Jim with wonder in his eyes. "I was...that was the coolest thing." His voice was still shaking, and his eyes were wild, but he was trying to hold himself together. Jim could see the effort.

"You just keep safe. And we still need to fill up our car." He handed the kid a twenty.

"You want to...to pay me? After that?" Jim grinned at the boy's amazement, although he was also rather bothered that the kid assumed he wouldn't. Silly child.

"Yeah. I do. Take it."

"Jim? I'm going to pick up some stuff here while you get the gas, okay?"

Jim nodded, but he knew that Blair wasn't buying anything. Sure enough, when he turned to look through the window, his partner had a hand on the kid's shoulder. By the time the truck was full, the kid had a real smile on his face. Blair, on the other hand, shot Jim a look of pure lust, a look that just made Jim react more.

He went inside to pay the difference. Blair gave the boy a final handshake, leaving a card with him, before joining Jim at the truck.

Chapter Six

Blair drove home so quickly it might have been Jim behind the wheel. He parked the truck and headed for the stairs. "I'm not waiting for any elevator, man!"

Jim laughed as he followed, walking quickly enough to allow his longer legs to almost keep pace with his partner. Even so, and to Jim's considerable amusement and arousal, Blair had left an absolute trail of clothing leading from the front door of the apartment to their bedroom. On a whim, Jim gathered the fallen garments as if they were so many flowers.

Blair sat cross-legged on their bed, wearing only a wide grin, a glint in his eyes and an enormous erection. Jim dropped his armload of clothes, tore his own off with barely a thought of potential wrinkles or dust and pounced.

Jim licked his way down from Blair's nipples to his hard penis while his lover leaned against the pillows and chuckled and moan. "No...no, Jim...not that." Blair pulled away from him and, to Jim's shock, turned over onto his stomach. "Take me, Jim. Now. Hard." His voice was urgent, demanding. Needy.

"Whatever you want, darling." It had been over a year since the last time they'd switched roles. Didn't matter. What Blair wanted, Blair got.

"No talk. Just...now!" He raised himself on his knees and elbows. If Jim didn't know better, he'd have said that Blair was surrendering to him, except that Blair didn't know the meaning of the word. Instead, there was only his need. Jim could smell it - arousal and desperation and need rising from his body. His own penis twitched with desire. He wasn't a good or practiced top, but Blair obviously didn't want finesse.

"Come on, Jim. Now..."

Jim fumbled in the night table, taking out a tube of lubrication and two condoms. He slid on both at once, knowing that only one layer would leave him too sensitive, and greased himself up. Then he took a large fingerful of goop. Blair quivered at his touch, but pushed back. He was tight, almost virgin-tight. Jim tried to be careful, tried to be gentle, tried to prepare him as slowly as he could, but Blair wouldn't let him.

"Just...get...me ready...please. Now. Now. Stop teasing me, dammit, and get in there!"

It wasn't as if Jim had a lot of patience himself - he was so hard it hurt - so, with a kiss to the small of Blair's back and a silent apology, he added more goop to himself and began to force his way in. Blair kept murmuring for him to go harder. Jim did his best to comply, finally forcing his way with a big push, doing his best to ignore Blair's scream. When the push was over, he was in as far as he could be, and Blair was shaking and panting, sweat dripping off his body.

"Blair...sweetheart..." Did he hurt him? Was Blair all right? Damn, he was too out of practice.

"Sh...sh...shush. Just...yes. Oh...move." Jim moved. He knew he wouldn't be allowed to move slowly, not by Blair and not by his own body's needs. Even inside the two condoms, the feel of Blair's body was overwhelming - hot and far too tight. He had no choice. Bracing himself on Blair's hips, he moved faster and faster, letting instinct take over, allowing Blair's moans to set the rhythm, and the rhythm was uptempo, a dance beat that would have worn out the most dedicated club queen, and it just got faster and faster until Blair screamed again and came. His body spasmed around Jim, who could hold on no longer, who had spent the last few moments holding on as hard as he could. Jim let go then, filling his condoms, too exhausted to make a noise.

Unable to support himself any longer, Blair collapsed to the bed, dragging Jim down with him. It took a few minutes for Jim to relax enough to pull himself out, closing his eyes at Blair's brief gasp of pain. He made sure that his clumsiness had not caused any damage, and, reassured, rid himself of the condoms and cleaned them both up.

Blair turned to his side and looked at him, his eyes tired but glowing. He smiled and opened his arms. Jim dove in and kissed him, gently, and then curled up there, after pulling up the covers.

"That was good, man. That was...perfect. I love you, Jim." With that, he closed his eyes and, wrapping himself around his lover, Blair fell asleep.

Jim loved hearing those words, even after two years and more. They'd been the last things he'd heard, like an evening prayer, since their first night together. "I love you, James." Just the thought made him happy...

Jim. Blair had said "Jim."

Well, why not? It was his name. Jim shrugged off the odd feeling and went to sleep in his lover's arms.

He gave his hair a final combing and stepped out of his wardrobe to find Blair walking stiffly over to the coffee maker to pour himself a cup. "Good morning, darling."

"gmrng." Blair stared at him through sleep tousled hair. He moved over to the table, wincing visibly as he sat down. Jim's amusement turned to concern.

"Sandburg? Is everything all right?" Jim poured himself a cup.

Blair took a sip and shook his head. "Yeah. It's been a long time, you know? Nothing I didn't ask for." He smiled. "And, man, did you come through."

Jim laughed and walked over to kiss Blair on the head. "Wasn't exactly a trial for me, sweetcheeks. Why don't you get cleaned up while I start breakfast?"

Blair finished his coffee, and stood up carefully. "Thanks, James. I can't imagine why I'm so hungry this morning..." He smirked and pecked Jim on the cheek as he walked to the bathroom, untying Jim's old terry robe as he went.

Jim took off his blazer and found his favorite apron, and began planning a monster omelet, keeping an ear on Blair's activities. At one point, as he chopped mushrooms, he heard Blair yelp and had to remind him to use warm water and the mild stuff Jim used. "There's that lotion in the medicine chest, too!"

Blair's "Oh, right" was mumbled, but he had to know Jim would have no problems hearing it so Jim chuckled.

Blair emerged, damp and shaven, but walking more easily, by the time Jim had the onions and mushrooms sauted. He gave the kitchen an appreciative sniff before disappearing upstairs again to get dressed, a process that was finished before Jim had all the eggs cracked or the toast in the toaster.

Blair stepped in next to him and they began the kitchen dance they'd perfected long before they'd become lovers, each performing his own tasks and somehow not getting in each other's way. Five minutes later, Jim put down plates with steaming mushroom, cheese and onion omelets, while Blair had platters of buttered toast and glasses of juice all ready.

"Yum. Cholesterol heaven, James." Blair grinned and began to wolf down his food.

"It's how I keep my girlish figure." Jim neatly cut off a bit of his own. "Does it need more salt?"

"'sperfect. But..."He put down his fork for a moment. "James, you saw Mel last night. You're headed in the same direction as he is if you don't watch out. You have to watch your eating."

"That's because she lost Freddy. Anyway, Evie's taking care of her now."

"And who's taking care of him? I have to tell you, Evie looked odd a couple of times last night. He says his T-Cell count is good, but..." Blair shrugged.

"She'll be fine. And I have you to watch my cholesterol for me." Jim smiled, but something nagged at him. Some sort of disconnect. "Make sure I get to be an old lady."

"You know that, man." Blair smiled back and squeezed Jim's hand. "That's part of the job description."

"Love you, Blair."

"I love you, too, James." He smirked a bit, as if to fend off the mush, and polished off the rest of his omelet. "Meanwhile, did I tell you? I had this long talk with Dave Michaelson about his new paper on..." Jim buttered a piece of toast and chewed on it, watching Blair wax poetic with his hands and eyes.

Just as they were starting to clear up, the phone rang. Jim closed the dishwasher door and picked up the phone. "Ellison."

"Jim, it's Simon. We just got a call from Hunter. He got another little 'gift' today." Simon did not sound happy.

"Damn. We'll go right to his office then."

"That's just what I told him. Can you be there in fifteen minutes?"

"We can if I drive."

Blair, who had stopped cleaning the omelet pan when the phone ran, snorted. "Tell Sandburg I heard that. Get there fast, but get there in one piece, okay?"

"Love you, too, darling. We'll report afterwards. Kiss-kiss." He heard Simon sigh as he hung up the phone.

"What's up?" Blair went back to work.

"Finish that up fast. We're heading out to see Hunter. He got another note."

"Do I have to go?" Blair dried the pan and put it away. "Right now, I really don't want to talk to Hunter."

Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder. "I know, sweetie. But he likes you and he most assuredly does not like me."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe I can give him what for for that stunt he pulled yesterday."

"That's my Blair!" Jim kissed him on the cheek. "He won't know what hit him."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." But Blair smiled.

"Come in, boys. Would you like some coffee?" Mrs. Jones smiled at them both. "I'm so sorry you had to come again...I don't mean that I'm sorry to see you, but not because we got one of those horrible, horrible notes."

"We're fine, Mrs. Jones." Blair touched her hand gently. "Did you find it?"

"Oh, no, no, Dr. Sandburg. Dr. Hunter came in early today and found it himself. Are you sure? It's freshly brewed."

Jim shook his head. "Thank you anyway, sweetheart." Mrs. Jones fluttered and sighed. "I think that dear Dr. Hunter is waiting for us. Perhaps you should call him?"

"Oh, oh, yes. Of course. Where is my head this morning?" She hurried to the intercom. Moments later, she was ushering them into Hunter's private office.

Hunter was writing something on a pad when they entered. He looked up. "Thank you, Mrs. Jones." She nodded and left. He stood up. "Detective Ellison, Dr. Sandburg. Welcome. Please, sit down."

"Thank you." Jim took a seat in one of the leather chairs on their side of the massive oak desk, crossing his legs at the knees and folding his hands.

"What about you, Dr. Sandburg?" Hunter looked at Blair, who was standing next to Jim, his legs slightly apart and his hands straight at his side.

Blair looked him in the eyes. Jim followed his gaze. Adam Hunter had very green eyes. He'd noticed them before, but now something tickled him. There was something going on there. There were too many somethings going on. Jim rubbed his hand over his hair.

"Well, Dr. Sandburg? Is there something wrong with my hospitality? Is it...'treif'?" Hunter showed his teeth.

Blair leaned forward, resting his hands on Hunter's desk. He was still almost a yard away from the man. Even so, Hunter sat back in his padded chair. "We listened to your show yesterday."

"Did you, now? Did you enjoy it?"

"That was a truly dumb thing to do, man. Let's just leave aside the fact that you had no right talking about me. Although you did not."

"My, my. Aren't we egotistical this morning?"

Blair's knuckles turned white. "Come off it, Dr. Hunter. A friend of mine just happened to have tuned in for a minute or two before he became disgusted and changed stations. And he recognized me. He asked me how we met."

"I wonder what he recognized? Your hair, perhaps? Or your choice of apparel? Or...your anger?"

Blair's muscles tensed visibly. Jim primed himself to catch his partner before he leaped across that vast wooden plain to attack the man. "Well, I'm angry now. You had no right to make me and my personal life a point in your talk...you had no right to use me like that."

"Why, Dr. Sandburg, don't you believe in the first amendment?"

"Oh, yeah. But there are laws against slander."

"There are, indeed. Can you tell me what I said that was not truthful? Certainly, you are a model of anger now." He smiled again.

Blair stood up straight, clenching and unclenching his fists. Jim got up from his chair and put his hand on Blair's shoulder. Blair flinched him away the first time, but let him stay afterwards. "That's it, darling. Deep breaths, now." Jim looked at Hunter, whose face was twisted in horror. "Doctor, my partner here isn't just upset over your little bit of radio theater. He's also genuinely concerned about this case, which you just may have queered with that stunt."

Hunter swallowed. He stared at Blair, and at Jim's other hand, which was stroking Blair's arm. "What do you mean?"

Jim sighed and rolled his eyes. "Blair recognized who you were describing. Our friend recognized him. It's likely that others did as well."

"Yes?"

"You were told not to go to the police."

"I didn't describe you, Detective. And Dr. Sandburg is not a police officer."

"No, he isn't." Jim could feel his voice go quiet. "But he is my partner, and a lot of people know he works for the Cascade PD. Such as everyone in Rainier University and the people on Stonewall Street. The very crowd whom you suspect is sending you those love notes."

"Oh, sweet Jesus." Hunter slumped down in his chair. "I was a fool."

"Can't argue with that." Jim sat back down and looking at Blair. Blair shot Hunter one last glare and took the other chair. "Now, then. We're here for a reason besides what you said about my partner."

"Excuse me." Mrs. Jones walked in, carrying a tray laden with a coffee set and china cups and saucers. "I thought you gentlemen would want some coffee around now. Dr. Hunter always has coffee at this time."

"Mrs. Jones, this is not the time..." Mrs. Jones looked stricken at those words. Hunter shook his head. "I'm sorry, dear lady. Of course, the coffee is most welcome. Please, leave the tray there."

"Oh, no. I'll fix your coffee just the way you want it. Please, don't mind me."

"You might as well let her stay, Hunter." Blair got up. "May I help you?"

"Oh, dear, no. This is my work. Go sit down with your friend."

Blair shrugged and took his seat again.

Jim smiled at him and turned to face Hunter again. "Is that today's gift on your desk?"

"Yes. I didn't open it before you came. And I handled it with my handkerchief, just in case." Hunter sounded rather proud of himself.

"Good job." Jim reached into his pockets and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. He picked up the envelope and opened it. "Oh, dear, Dr. Hunter. You made a very bad mistake yesterday." Behind him, Jim heard a coffee cup drop to the floor.

Chapter Seven

Blair jumped up from his seat, grabbed some napkins from the tray and knelt on the floor to begin clean up.

"Oh, dear, no. You don't need to do that, Dr. Sandburg." Despite her words, Mrs. Jones stayed on her feet. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Hunter." She looked at him, her eyes wide and frightened.

"What is wrong, dear lady?" Hunter smiled at her. Jim believed he was sincere in his concern.

She wrung her hands. "It's just so upsetting. All of it...the awful blackmail, the horrible things they're saying about you - I know you're above it, Dr. Hunter, but I hate seeing all those terrible letters you get, telling you that you're evil or prejudiced when if they only knew you...I'm sorry. And you're so kind to me, too...hiring me even though I can't use those computers like all the young girls. And now Dr. Sandburg is cleaning up after my mess, too. I'm so sorry." She took hold of a table, as if bracing herself to kneel on the floor. At that point, Blair stood up, holding the shards of china in the napkins in one hand. He put the other on Mrs. Jones' arm.

"It's all right. I've got it. I wouldn't walk around here without shoes until someone gets a chance to vacuum, but I think we're fine. Why don't I take you back to your desk and get you your own coffee? Would that be all right, James? Dr. Hunter?" Blair didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he tucked Mrs. Jones' arm into his and led her out of the office.

Jim watched him leave. When he turned back, he could see Hunter following his partner as well. "Does Blair fascinate you so much?"

Hunter shrugged one shoulder. "In so many ways, yes. He reminds me of myself - full of righteous anger and confusion that the world doesn't run the way I want it to run."

"Is that why it bothers you so much that he's gay? That he's my lover? Because he reminds you of yourself? What are you afraid of, doctor dear?" Jim tilted his head.

He only smiled in return. "I'm afraid of many things. Those terrorists, for example. The question is, what is he afraid of? If you love him, why isn't he happy?"

"Blair is happy." Even as he said it, he wondered. "This is not relevant to this case, now, is it?"

"You brought it up, detective. Still, you are correct. Shall we get back to the note, or should we wait for Dr. Sandburg to reappear?"

Jim could hear Blair making soothing noises, and, judging from the sounds, fixing Mrs. Jones a cup of tea. "He might be a while. Your receptionist seems rather flighty."

"I hired her as an act of charity, but she is an excellent receptionist even if her devotion is a trifle wearing. So...the note."

Jim picked it up again, and read it out loud. "'Tsk, tsk, Dr. Homophobe. We told you not to go to the police. Now look what you went and did. You have a choice. Either recant all the nasty things you've been saying during your radio show or you and your little secret will lead the five o'clock news. And we wouldn't want that, would we?' Interesting that they don't want money."

"I can't think about that right now. I was a fool yesterday. I let my concern for Dr. Sandburg overtake my good sense. That is what you want me to say, is it not?"

Jim smiled. "We had a week to find them. Now we're down to hours. I assume you are not going to give in to their demands?"

"Don't you want me to? Wouldn't it make your life easier if I did as they asked?" Hunter smiled back.

Jim sighed. "No. I don't want you to do that. I don't like what you say, but I do know you're an honest man. There is nothing good about you giving in."

"What about airing my secrets?" Jim could almost see Hunter's blood pressure rise.

"Excuse me." Blair walked in the room, carrying a broom and a long handled dustpan. He began to sweep up the remaining pieces of cup and saucer. "Mrs. Jones refused to relax until she knew every last bit was gone. This was the only way I could stop her from doing it herself." Jim frowned. Blair's movements were odd. Instead of the soft strokes that would have collected the splinters efficiently, he was making hard, short sweeps that would only serve to scratch the polished hardwood floors. His muscles were tense, too. Jim could see how they bunched through Blair's long-sleeved t-shirt. Blair was always tense lately.

Then he noticed something else as Blair walked close to him. There was a familiar scent in the air.

He frowned. Mrs. Jones' perfume was everywhere, distracting him. 'Oh, sweetheart, you are not the type for Shalimar...' He tried to filter it out to get to the other scent, but it didn't work. Did she bathe in the stuff? That scent had been on the first note, though, so maybe it was on the second? Blair noticed his frown and put down the broom to move closer, touching his shoulder. The elusive scent was mostly gone, but Blair's touch helped to center him.

He picked up the new note again, as if to examine it. More Shalimar. She must have held it to her bosom. He tried to filter again, but it didn't work.

"Detective Ellison? Is everything all right?"

Jim blinked. "I'm so sorry. I was just thinking. Who did you say found the note?"

"I did. I was the first one in this morning. I used my handkerchief to pick it up."

"So no one else touched it?"

"No."

"Did you leave your office at any time?"

"Not yet. What is wrong, detective?"

"I'm not sure, yet." Jim put the note down on the desk again. "Do you have a computer? Mrs. Jones said something about not being able to use one."

Hunter shrugged. "She can't - she's afraid of them - but as she types 100 words a minute with no mistakes and takes excellent shorthand, I have no real complaints."

"So you don't have a computer at all?" Blair stared at Hunter in wonder. "Not even for, like, email?" Jim chuckled a little to himself. His partner wouldn't go camping without his computer.

Hunter brushed the hair away from his face. That gesture looked oddly familiar, but the hair was all wrong. "I have a computer." He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a laptop and placed it in front of him, carefully arranging the various cables. "I just don't like it cluttering my desk."

"May I look at it, Dr. Hunter?" Blair walked to Hunter's side.

Hunter frowned, but nodded. He opened the computer. Jim felt his nose twitch. Was there more Shalimar in the air or not? At this point, he couldn't tell.

Before Hunter could turn it on, Blair touched his hand. "It would be better if I did that."

"Be my guest." Hunter stood and gestured to his chair. Blair nodded and sat down. His face lit up and he began wiggling on the leather seat and stroking the padded arms.

"This is some chair. Does it come with a massage unit, too?"

Jim noticed that Hunter's face softened when he smiled, and his eyes danced. There was something there. Just something...

"I'm afraid not, Dr. Sandburg, and I will tell you I was quite disappointed. But you were going to do something with my toy there?"

"Oh, yes. Right." He bounced once more and then turned to the laptop. "I'm going to boot to DOS instead of to Windows, so I can run a couple of diagnostics." He looked at Jim and grinned. "Cassie taught me these."

Jim rolled his eyes. "At least Miss Cassie was good for something."

"Excuse me, gentlemen?" Hunter, who was watching Blair typing along, looked up at the two of them.

"Sorry, Dr. Hunter." Jim moved to Blair's other side. "Miss Cassie was a forensic specialist who wanted to be a police officer. Her asthma prevented her."

"Yeah. She was good as a forensics person, and if she'd concentrated on that, she'd have been an asset. Instead, she tried to be a cop and to hit on us." Blair never looked up from the screen.

"Did the young lady have a penchant for lost causes?"

Jim looked across Blair. Hunter's eyes were sparkling again. The man had an actual sense of humor. Who knew? "You'd think, wouldn't you? Actually, I was pretty firmly closeted at the time, so people only suspected us, and she never got a clue." Hunter chuckled.

"Yes!" Both men looked down at Blair, who was pumping his fist in the air. "They worked!"

Jim peered at the screen. "It says here that this computer was last booted at 1700 hours and turned off at 19 hundred hours. When did you leave last night?"

"I left at 4:30. I was home by 5:30, and my housekeeper served me dinner at 6PM on the dot. After that, I watched the news and then read my Bible until I went to sleep at 10PM."

"Was your housekeeper with you at the time?" Jim pulled out a notepad and took down this information.

"She and her husband live in my home. Her husband is my gardener and driver. They are both more friends than servants, and we often spend the evenings together. I can supply you with their names if you wish." Jim nodded, and Hunter complied.

"Where was the computer at the time?"

"Here. In this office. I have a desktop at home if I wish to look in on my email or do some writing, so I have no need to take this with me."

"Were you the last person here?"

"Oh, no. Mrs. Jones always stays late to tidy up. She says she just doesn't trust the building people to do the job right." Blair looked up and exchanged glances with Jim. "Oh, no. She's terrified of computers. Won't go near them. She even leaves the room when I take this out."

Blair shook his head. "Someone was here, Dr. Hunter. And the printer record shows something was done, something extremely short. Like, say...your note. And there is some activity on the telnet...whoever was in here knew computers fairly well, I'd say, judging from the programs used."

"Then Mrs. Jones is completely off the hook." Hunter sounded relieved.

"Is she? How long has she been working for you?" Blair stared into Hunter's eyes.

He frowned. "I've known her sister's family for years. They're members of my church. When her husband passed on four months ago, and I found myself in need of a new receptionist - my old one having decided to stay home with her newborn - her sister convinced me to hire her. I haven't regretted it."

"Four months." Jim thought about that. "And you got your first note when?"

"Yesterday. When I brought it in. Why would she wait that long? And why would that sweet, Christian lady want to blackmail me?" Hunter walked away and began to pace his office. "This does not make sense. What possible motive would she have? She doesn't need money. Her husband left her comfortable. She only works to keep from being lonely. They were never blessed with children."

"She's still a prime suspect now. What is her first name?"

"Iris."

Jim blinked. "Iris? Iris Jones? No, it couldn't be. Iris is..."

"It couldn't be Iris Jones. She's nothing like her. It's just a coincidence, James."

"Who...what do you mean?" Hunter shifted his gaze from Jim to Blair and back again in confusion. "You know someone with the same name as my receptionist?"

The door opened. Mrs. Jones stood there, straight and tall, her eyes and hands steady. Jim looked at her, mentally changing the elegant silver-gray French knot to wild blue curls and the demure long-sleeved jacket dress to jeans and a denim vest. He checked the right wrist - yes, there was just the edge of what he knew to be a blue rose tattoo.

"Iris, darling. I should have known it was you. You have to cut down o the perfume."

"I nearly wet my pants when you and Dr. Blair walked in yesterday." Iris grinned broadly. "I guess the Stepford Secretary bit through you off."

"I do not understand. Who is this person? And why..."

"Iris has been a very bad biker dyke."

"Biker..." Hunter collapsed in Jim's chair. "You've been lying to me all this time. Why?"

"Because my group, PTU - Partners of the Total Universe - believes that you are a hypocrite. We know your secret, Dr. Hunter. We know that you will go to any lengths to hide your shame. Just like those of us who have to be closeted from our friends and family. My sister didn't lie to you. She thinks I am a sweet little old widow. And I am. My partner, Toni, did die four months ago, and we were certainly not blessed with children. Or maybe it's cursed? How do you feel about that, Dr. Hunter?"

"All children are a blessing. No matter what."

"Even your oldest son?" Jones grinned.

"Even he."

"We're going to find out..."

"Iris, before you say anything, I have to tell you a few things." Jim walked around to the front of the desk and leaned back on it, crossing his arms.

"Go ahead, Jimmy boy. Do your job." Iris sat down in Blair's chair, crossed her legs at the ankle and listened to Jim read her rights, replying "yes" every time he asked her if she understood. "Okay. Now I can talk and then Jimmy can take me in with no problems."

"Just tell me why...Miss Jones, I presume."

"It's 'Mrs.' Or 'Ms.' Kept Bobby's name even after I left him for another chick. He was a good guy, and if I'd have been straight, it could have worked. I told you why. You go on the air and talk about Jesus this and Jesus that, and how God hates us gays and you never once say a word about your gay son. So, when Sharon told me you had a job opening, I figured, 'why not?' God, it's going to be a relief to look like me again." She looked at her pale pink nails in disgust. "Haven't been able to tune my machine in weeks, just so I don't ruin the damn manicure. But I do type 100 DubyaPeeEmm, and I really don't like computers. That don't mean I don't know how to use them, but hell. It kept you from suspecting me, or it should have, and I didn't have to use them during the day." She shrugged off her jacket, revealing her toned arms and their delicate tattoos.

Hunter closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them and looked at her. "Mrs. Jones. I understand that you don't like me, any more than Detective Ellison or Dr. Sandburg do, and I understand why. I say unpleasant truths, or what I believe to be truths, about your lifestyle choice. And, yes, Dr. Sandburg. I'm aware that you don't consider it to be a 'choice.'" Hunter raised his hand to forestall comments. Blair subsided back in Hunter's chair. "Although in your own case...well. Anyway. I understand your animosity towards myself. What do you have against my son?"

Iris blinked. "I don't see what you're getting at." She took the pins out of her hair and let it fall past her shoulders.

"It's very simple." Hunter smiled tightly. "If you reveal that I have a gay son, you will hurt him."

"He's not in any closet, you know. He's one of the biggest drag queens on Stonewall."

"Oh, my God!" Jim dropped his notepad. "Your son, Dr. Hunter...is he Adam, junior?"

"Yes. He is my namesake. Although I'm aware of his activities, and name change."

"James? You know who it is? I don't know any Adams..." Blair stared at him.

"Look at Hunter's eyes, sweetheart. He has the same eyes. He brushes back his hair the same way. And think what an Adam would change his name to..."

"Oh, my God. Lady Eve. He's Evie's father. You're Evie's father?" Blair turned to Hunter.

"Yes. My son is gay, and my son wears women's clothing, and he has rejected me and my name. And if he has chosen to do that, I will not go against his choice. Much as I pray it was different."

Blair frowned. "You pray that your son is straight?"

"I pray that my son changes his mind about that, yes. But I also miss him. He came out to me shortly after his mother died, twenty years ago and I haven't seen him since. His choice."

"What was his choice, Dr. Hunter?" Iris uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. "To be gay or be your son?"

"No. He will always be my son. But he chose to not see me until I change my beliefs, and much as I love him, I can't do that. And I know that if his secret came out, it might damage him in his own community. Yes, I pray that he choose to lead a normal life. I can't do otherwise. But...I'm worried about him. I pray he is as happy as his lifestyle allows him to be. And I pray that he is healthy. Is he, Detective Ellison? You know him. Is he?"

Jim paused. He chose his words carefully. "She is happy. She's loved and respected on Stonewall Street, and she has quite a family there."

Blair nodded. "He's one of the most important people there. He's an organizer and a leader. You can be proud of him."

"Oh, dear, sweet Lord." Hunter's face became white. "He's...he's sick."

"He's doing all right, sir. The new drugs are working fine."

"My son is sick. He could have...he could have died and we'd never have spoken again." He squeezed his hands together. "You haven't answered my question, Mrs. Jones. Why do you want to hurt my son?"

She bit her lip. "We...we didn't think. I mean, it was a joke, that Adam Hunter's son is a drag queen. It would have been splashed across the news. We didn't think about Evie."

Hunter took a deep breath. "And now it's unavoidable, with this arrest. Is there anyway you can keep this quiet? Not for me. For Adam, junior." He looked at Jim.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. Even if you don't press charges, it will come out. So to speak."

"You have his phone number." Hunter said it as if it were fact. "Call him for me."

Jim nodded and took out his cellphone.

Chapter Eight

"I do not believe what we saw. Our Lady Eve and Dr. Adam Hunter standing side by side at a press conference, in front of the whole world. I mean, yeah, they didn't hug or even shake hands, and Evie was in full drag so he looked like Hunter's daughter or something, but I don't know which one was braver, you know? I still think Hunter is blind and prejudiced, but, you know. I was thinking...he never has, in any of his talks, said that AIDS was a curse on the gays. I'm going to look at his website, because he does have one, and see about his columns, you know?"

"Yes, sweetie." Blair had been talking in the truck nonstop since they'd taken Evie home from the press conference. Normally, Jim would have enjoyed it. It had been a very long time since Blair had been so excited, and when he was, he was adorable. But not now. Now Jim did his best to tune Blair out so he could think. And what he was thinking about was not pleasant.

He pulled into their spot and climbed out into the Cascade drizzle. Blair, still chattering, followed him. "Twenty years. Can you believe it? I mean, even you saw your father...maybe not. That has to be so hard, though. To know your dad disapproved of you...oh...yeah. I guess I'm lucky. Poor Evie. I hope he and his father at least start talking."

Jim unlocked the front door and turned to face Blair. "'She.'"

"Excuse me?"

"Lady Eve prefers to be called 'she.' So does Miss Melly and poor Miss Freddy. You never call them that."

Blair frowned at Jim. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No, you don't, darling, do you?" Jim signaled the elevator.

"What's wrong, James?" The doors opened. Jim didn't answer. Blair sighed and fidgeted until the reached their floor. "James, talk to me."

Jim just shook his head. He unlocked the apartment door and hung up his coat, and then walked to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He wanted to warm up from all that cold and damp. He could hear Blair close and lock the door behind him and then follow him to the kitchen.

"Good idea. It's nasty out there."

"Yeah." He didn't look at Blair.

"It's nasty in here. James, talk to me. Please. Tell me what I'm doing wrong, why you're so angry." Jim felt Blair grab his arm, as if to make him look.

He put down the coffee measure and turned around. "It's not my anger that's the issue, darling. It's yours."

"What the hell are you talking about? Don't tell me you're buying Hunter's line of crap. I am not angry. Okay, I am, now, but that's just because you brought this thing up again." Blair began pacing around the kitchen.

"I'm bringing it up again because he's right." Jim turned away to fill the carafe and turn the coffee machine on.

"I'm not angry. Not really. Come on. Look at me, James." Blair pulled around Jim to face him.

"Okay. I'm looking." He didn't meet Blair's eyes.

"What is really bothering you?" Blair grabbed both his arms.

"You. You know, they've been telling me this for years, but I refused to see it. Now I do. God, I hate this." His stomach began knotting up. He forced himself to look at his partner.

"Who? Telling you what?" Blair's eye's flashed.

"All the girls. Down on Stonewall. They all love you, 'Dr. Blair.' But they don't think of you as part of them."

Blair frowned. "What do you mean? Of course...well...I'm..."

"Yeah. You're not. You're my lover, but you're not really there."

"I'm there with you half the week. I like being there."

"And never without me. You don't even visit Miss Melly without me."

"Do you go by yourself? Do you see him alone?"

"Her. And, yes, I do. Nights when you're busy grading papers or doing some Rainier thing, or just working with Sam, I go there. You know that. You've called me there any number of times. You only go there with me. You're visiting."

Blair ran his hands through his damp hair. "Of course we're visiting. We live here; we work at the PD. What do you mean?"

"Why don't you use 'she'? I'd think simple etiquette would make you call the girls correctly."

"What is with you? What does it matter what I call them, James?" Blair stalked off into the living room and sat on the couch, his arms folded.

Jim followed. "Because it does. Because if you call them guys and 'he', they're a bunch of pathetic men who are fooling themselves, but if you call them 'she', they're successful and fabulous. And they are fabulous. You know that, Blair. And you know names have power. You've taught me that yourself. Chief."

Blair was silent for a long time - long enough for the coffee to stop dripping. Jim filled two mugs and took them back to the living room. He handed one to Blair, and took a sip of his own.

Blair held his cup for a long time, wrapping his hands around it as if for warmth. Outside, the rain began to fall harder. "I never thought about it. I don't know what to say. I'm sorry." He stared into the coffee.

"It's more than that. You are angry. I can smell it. You know I can. You trained me. Why are you angry?" He kept his voice, so he wouldn't shout.

"I am NOT angry, Ellison! How many times do I have to say that?...You can smell me?"

Jim nodded. "Now that I think about it, darling, there's been a low level something ever since..." He stopped, not wanting to complete the thought. He forced himself. "Ever since that first night at Club Purple." He knew it for truth as he said it.

Blair put down his coffee cup, and started walking around. "I have to...I love you. I've been happy these past two years, being with you...it's been the best...a fantasy..." He stopped. "I love you. I've loved you since you tossed me against my office wall. James. I love you." The tone of his voice belied the confidence in his words.

"Do you?" Jim's stomach clenched. "Because...I'm not the man who threw you against that wall, am I?"

"No." Blair's voice was barely a whisper. "You aren't." He sat down again, and buried his head in his hands.

Jim wanted to go over and comfort him, but he couldn't move. "I'm sorry. He was a lie."

"I know! I found out that night that I was in love with a...a mask, a damned role you were playing. You know, one of the things I'd loved about Jim Ellison was his honesty, his inability to lie well. I knew I could trust you, man, with my life, my...everything." Blair jumped up again, his hands waving in the air. "And that went away."

"You can trust me. That hasn't changed." Jim clenched his hands around his cup.

Blair stopped moving. His face became far too calm. "Yes, yes, it did. I love you, I'm in love with you, but you are not him, and it's not because of the mannerisms or the wardrobe or any of it. It's the man I first fell in love was...was the sort of man who wouldn't lie for years on end, or that's what I thought he was."

"It...I'd been living that way for five years, you know? I'd made myself be that way, live that way all the time. I didn't know how to stop." Jim couldn't look at Blair.

"You didn't know...You tell me now you knew I was angry all this time, when even I didn't know that. How could you not know how much I wanted you? My God, the frustration must have been coming off me in waves." He rubbed his hand over his hair. "How could you not know? My God, James. All you would have had to do was crook your little finger - the one you have sticking out so daintily - and I'd have nailed you to the nearest flat surface."

"I didn't let myself know. Don't you see? Straight Jim has to be completely straight. He can't let himself go for the tiniest minute, even, or maybe especially, with the most wonderful, most adorable, more forceful man in the world, because if he does, the next day, he will be sticking out his little finger. So, I couldn't take the chance."

"Doesn't make it hurt less, James."

"So...why are you here? Why did you stay after..."

"Because, hell, I got to sleep with you. Finally. And then...oh, God, James. You were happy. Centered, which you never were before. What was I supposed to do? Say that I'll stay with you and sleep with you, but you have to go back to being miserable? I loved you. How could I do that to you?"

Jim put down his coffee. There was no room for it in his stomach. "You still love 'Jim.'"

"You are Jim."

"Not to you. To you, I'm 'James.' I loved it so much - finally, something only you called me - that I didn't think. You don't do that. You don't do nicknames or pet names. I'm not 'Jim' to you, except...Two nights ago, after we saw my father, when I put on the butch act, and last night, when I took down those crooks. Other times, too, when I've had to be the macho cop. When you're so hot we can't make it to the house, or when you positively demand me to take you. Who do you love, Blair?"

"I...I...oh, my God. I..." Blair stared at him. "I...You lied to me. You...when I'm with you, I'm someone else, I think. I'm part of your world, and I'm expected to be part of your world."

"You marched in the parade with me." Jim could hear the betrayal in his own voice.

"I was proud to, man. I am queer. Bisexuals are queer. But..."

"But the gay world doesn't want you. I know, sweetie. I've been...counciled for years. 'He's a darling boy, Jimmy, but he's not one of us.' You didn't want to be. They were right."

"I wanted to be with you. I loved you." He stopped in horror. "I love you. I...oh, God. I don't know. What's happening to us, Ja...Ji...I don't even know what to call you, man!" He began to pace again.

"I don't know, either. But I do love you." Those words, at least, he knew were true.

"Yeah, well. I'm still the same person. Mostly. And...I'm sorry. I...think I need to think about this."

"Okay." It wasn't okay. It would never be okay.

"Someplace else. Just...for awhile. I'm sorry."

Jim couldn't say anything. There was nothing to say. He clenched and unclenched his hands. He stayed that way while Blair cleaned up the still full coffee cups and put them away, and then dug a bag out of the closet. The rain beat down harder on the roof. It nearly drowned out Blair's heartbeat. "Where are you going to go?"

Blair shrugged. "Maybe the Glasses. They have more space than the Michaelsons." Even that twisted the knife a bit more. Those were their - no, Blair's - straight friends.

He was desperate. He had to keep Blair with him. "You don't have to. I'll...I'll move downstairs or something. We still have your old futon."

Blair shook his head. "I'm sorry. I really am. I...this is not going to be forever. I'll...we'll work this out." Jim wasn't sure if Blair believed his own words.

Blair made his phone call and packed a small bag. Before he left, he made a move as if to kiss Jim, but then shook his head. "I'll...call." There was no expression in his voice. It felt like Blair was already gone.

"Yeah. Please." Jim stayed on the couch and listened as Blair walked downstairs and out the door to his own car, and turned on the ignition.

Just before he pulled out, Jim heard one final whisper. "I love you."

Jim followed the sound of Blair's car as long as he could. Maybe longer. Then there was only the Cascade rain, standing in for his tears.

The End