Author's webpage: http://http://www.aithine.org/feral/index.html

Author's notes: I began writing this story before I even knew what slash was - I'm a firm believer in recycling *g*. As always, many thanks to Aithine who laughed in all the right places.

At The End of the Day -- Part One

I guess you could say it was one of those things that was over before it ever really began.

Or maybe it just wasn't meant to be in the first place.

All the struggle, all the pain - turns out it was for nothing. Ok, well, that's not true. I could say I've learned a lot about myself, about Jim and about life in general over the past few months and knowledge is never a waste. But as I looked at Simon across his desk and saw the sorrow in his dark eyes, that recently gained wisdom was pretty cold comfort.

Two weeks ago, it started just like every year at this time. Simon grew testier as he struggled with the inevitable battles that a new budget created. Less money, fewer cops, more need. The track record of Major Crimes was pretty spectacular and it was that fact that had saved the department from serious fiscal depredations in the past. But still, each year it was a fight and one that Simon so did not enjoy. It drove him nuts, because he had no active say in the allocation of resources; he only had the unenviable task of dealing with the fallout of decisions made by others, decisions affecting his team and their ability to protect Cascade.

This year seemed to be worse than usual. Simon kept to himself, locked away behind closed doors and on the phone for hours, leaving only to use the bathroom or attend another meeting on funds appropriation. He and his fellow captains were called upon to justify man-hours paid vs. fixed expenses vs. conviction records. Not my cup of chai tea, that's for sure. I knew all about budgets and cutbacks and the like so I was totally simpatico with Simon.

By the end of the first week no one spoke to Simon outside of hello, goodnight or yes, sir. Jim and I tried both separately and together to get him to relax a little, inviting him over to catch a game, but he was firm in his refusal.

Friday night we decided to give it another try, stopping by his office on our way home to see if he wanted to grab a beer. He shook his head and declined, then gave me the strangest look, like he was sorry to hear that I had contracted some disease.

Late the following Monday afternoon, I felt like I had.

Simon called me into his office, meeting me at the door and motioning me to sit in the chair facing his desk. He quietly closed the door behind me and took his seat at his desk, folding his hands and taking a deep breath. I watched him nervously, my fingers tapping absently on my thighs.

Simon began speaking and at first the words didn't connect. Budget cuts, yeah, got that. Fixed expenses, right with ya, know about those.

Then my head snapped back as I suddenly perceived the direction of this conversation.

Lay offs? Laid off?

"I'm sorry, Sandburg. Every department has to cut personnel, not just us. You being low man on the totem pole, well, you're the only obvious choice." That dark voice poured over me, trying to soften the blow with the warmth in his eyes. Unfortunately, it didn't work.

Simon isn't only a good captain, he's a good manager. He'd waited until Jim was called out of the office before delivering the bad news, knowing my reaction would be intense and might ping on Jim's radar. In the back of my shell-shocked mind I wondered if we could do a proximity test on his ability to read my vitals. Ok, dumb idea because that would mean there would have to be a reason and that usually isn't such a good deal for me.

I stared at Simon after his politically correct speech, not really having anything to say. Another part of my fractured psyche noticed that my stomach felt like I had just been dropped off a building - which is actually a feeling I'm familiar with and not one I particularly enjoy.

Meanwhile, Simon proceeded to do what I tend do when there's silence. He tried to fill up the room with words.

"I know this is a big blow to you and I want you to understand that this decision was not made lightly. I tried everything in the book to get you approved as an add-to-staff but there just aren't any funds for another detective's salary. Now, I can try to get you another Observer's pass but I doubt it would be approved, um, considering." He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. Wow, hey, there goes another part of my brain, off to notice that Simon was upset, truly upset by this turn of events. Hey, I can understand why. He and Jim had taken a huge chance in garnering me this position in Major Crime, one usually earned after years in uniform or on other, less prestigious squads. Their reputations had rested on my ability to come through and though I definitely felt like I had, there was always some chance I would screw up and embarrass them.

Well, guess there was no chance of that now.

Simon continued, "The union has some excellent programs for re-entering the job market, along with some financial counseling -" He broke off when I started to laugh, a bitter sound even to my ears.

"Financial counseling? Oh, man, Simon, give me a break! That only works if you have some finances worth counseling! You know, like an income? I've paid approximately forty-seven dollars in union dues and since where you're situated on a totem pole has no social significance whatsoever, that pretty much makes me the part they stick in the ground." I looked at the ceiling, trying to get a grasp on the situation. "Man, wish I had known before I got the damn hair cut, you know?"

My sorry attempt at humor fell flat and I found myself trying to run my hand through curls that were just starting to feel normal again.

Simon looked away and cleared his throat.

That's when I started to feel the reaction set in like a deep ache in my bones. I swallowed against the disappointment that was trying to crawl it's way up my throat, knowing that I needed to remain calm. I've given the bullpen enough emotional matinees over the years; this one they don't get for free.

"Simon," I finally managed around a dry mouth, "What about Jim? You can't just let him out there without trained backup! How am I gonna do that now? I mean, we know who knows, right? But that doesn't make them instantly trained to work with a sentinel! You can't just shove Henri or Joel or anyone into that and expect them to know how it works!"

Simon sighed and stood up, coming around his desk to occupy the chair next to me. I could practically see him shed his captain's persona, leaving the good friend in its place. It was somehow harder to face him now that the official part of the interview was over.

"Sandburg, I just don't know. I've been wracking my brain trying to figure a way out of this but there's no denying the fact that at this point, I can't. There simply isn't any money. Jim will have to work with a veteran now." His eyes begged for understanding as he looked at me. I looked back blankly, trying to take in the implications of this discussion.

No job. No income. No way to ride with Jim. No need for Sandburg. Jim won't need me anymore - in the only way I could ever get him to need me.

I swallowed. "Ok, captain, how long? I mean, when's my last day?"

There was genuine distress in his expression as he answered, "This is your official two week notice. Between now and then you'll be receiving a packet from Human Resources outlining your severance package plus a list of other law enforcement agencies that have job openings throughout the state. A union representative will also be checking in with you to follow up on your case."

"My case. Right." I rubbed at my temple with my thumb, wishing I could order my thoughts into something approaching coherent. Suddenly, I looked up.

"So, Jim doesn't know, right?"

"No, I haven't told him anything. I don't think he even suspects this is coming." Simon began to look even more uncomfortable, something I didn't think possible. "Listen, Blair, about Jim. When we first discussed your coming on board as a detective, he threatened to quit if it didn't happen. It's gonna be hard enough losing one good detective - I don't want to lose two."

I stared at him. This was a hell of a lot to take in. Suddenly I was responsible for getting on with my non-academic, non-detective life and oh, by the way - make sure Jim was okeydokey about the whole thing.

I stood up so abruptly Simon leaned back in surprise. I bit my lip, trying to hold back harsh words. This wasn't Simon's fault and I had enough discipline to realize that I shouldn't take my troubles out on a friend.

"Yeah, ok. Look, Simon, I gotta process this. If it's ok with you I'm gonna take off. My desk is caught up and that Coleman interview got bumped anyway." I was talking so fast the poor guy hardly had time to argue if he wanted to. I'm pretty sure he didn't.

I blew past him and opened the door. Jim was just sitting down at his desk and seeing him drove home the devastating truth of my situation. I had a sudden, nasty desire to share the pain. So much for discipline. Turning back to Simon, I gestured over my shoulder.

"Jim's back, Captain. I'll let him know you want to see him right away."

The look on his face was priceless; I would have enjoyed it if my whole fucking world hadn't just been chucked into the dumpster. Again.

I hadn't made it two steps back into the bullpen when Jim's head jerked up and he met my eyes. I knew I was shocky; I've felt it often enough. Cold hands, light sweat, the works. He was half out of his chair by the time I reached our desks. Observing I was in one piece and not bleeding I could see him trying to figure out what had me tweaked.

Not exactly smiling, I raised an eyebrow and waved my hand. "Simon's waiting for you."

He finished standing and stuck his hands on his hips. "Yeah? Anything you wanna tell me before I head in there?" Jim's subtle way of asking me what's wrong. Those blue eyes of his bore into me and for the life of me I couldn't be flip, couldn't come up with a snappy rejoinder.

I shrugged and looked away. Dumb thing to be thirty and near tears over crap like this. "Not the best news in the world but I'll work it out." I blinked and looked back.

He narrowed his gaze. Damn sentinel sight hadn't missed the moisture in my eyes.

"Look," I said, grabbing my jacket, "I'm outta here. I'll stop and get those copies from the courthouse. Catch you later." Not at home, not at the loft - just later. Because I just didn't know where I was going to go.

Damn it, Sandburg, where the hell are you?

Perfect end to a crappy day.

He needs to be here, we need to make some decisions and he pulls this disappearing shit on me. It's almost eleven; I've been home for four hours while dinner, his favorite Cuban food, is congealing in the oven and all I get is a message on the damn machine telling me he's ok, don't worry, see me in the morning.

Like hell.

It didn't help my mood that his cell has been turned off each and every one of the twelve times I dialed his number.

So I was sitting on the couch, in the dark, and madder than I can remember. At him. And I knew exactly why. No need for a lot of self-analysis at this point because it's so painfully obvious a blind man could see it.

I was pissed because we should be going through this together. After all this time, I'd finally gotten it through my thick skull that we're a team and now Sandburg's decided to go solo. "I'll work it out," he says, like I can just sit back and let this alone. I've done it to him before - hell, I've encouraged him to suck it up when shit happened to him. Especially after what happened in '99. God, I wanted so badly for him to be someone else, anyone else - anyone other than the friend I'd screwed over so completely - that the only way I could deal with it was to practically treat him like a fucking stranger for months.

Until one day, he showed me how much he loved me. He showed me, he showed his flaky mother - he showed the entire goddamn world how much he loved me. Even a guy with my limited imagination could figure that one out.

So, somehow, I rated a reprieve of mythic proportions. I kept my job, my secret - and Sandburg. What the hell kind of justice is that? But I wasn't going to question it because right after the academy, we started regaining some of the ground we'd lost after the release of the thesis. I don't know, it was probably all in my head, but it felt like we were moving in the right direction again. The teamwork we counted on in the field was slowly working its way back into our personal relationship and I knew I was incredibly damn lucky to be given even that much back.

Then, with a tax cut and a new budget, it was all ripped away from us again. And now I was beginning to see that Sandburg had learned the lesson I'd taught him all too well. He'd crawled off to lick his wounds alone and would probably come home with a fake smile plastered on his face and tell me not to sweat it, he'd figure something out. The worst of it was, he'd expect me to be relieved he had things under control so my tidy little life wouldn't suffer a ripple.

Not gonna happen. Not this time.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew I heard the scrape of his key in the lock. Quick glance at my watch said it was 12:30, which I mentally calculated was not too late to chew his ass for worrying me before trying to come up with a plan.

The door opened slowly and he came in. Not knowing I was on the couch, he made no attempt to hide the defeat that slumped his shoulders. Seeing that, my anger drained away and I watched him toss his keys into the basket and hang up his jacket.

"You know what time it is?" Damn it, that's not the first words I wanted to say.

His head jerked up, blue eyes widening in surprise. My gut tightened as I watched him search in the dark for me, finally noticing my black outline against the faint light coming from the window.

"Jim? What's up, what are you doing down here in the dark?" He moved over to turn on the lamp.

"Leave it off." I don't know why I said that. For some reason light seemed like a bad idea right now. Maybe I didn't want him to see how angry I was.

"Ook," he said in that patronizing tone that annoys the hell out of me sometimes. "You having a problem?"

I knew what he meant; he probably thought my eyesight was acting up on me, hence the darkness. The anger that had faded was coming back now and I struggled against it, knowing that if I got good and mad so would he and we'd get nowhere.

"Simon told me." There, it was out. I wanted it on the table so we could start to fix it.

"Ah." He nodded and sat down on the other couch, his hands folded loosely between his knees. "Yeah, pretty much bites, I know. Been thinking maybe we ought to start talking to Megan, see if she's up to being teamed with you in the field. I realize it's Simon's decision but she'd be a place to start. We don't have a lot of people to chose from, you know?"

I stared at him. What the hell was he talking about?

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He looked surprised and that kicked my pissed-off meter up a notch.

"Jim! You, in the field, needing backup? C'mon, work with me here!"

"The hell with the job! What about you?" My voice was raised because he was doing precisely what I didn't want him to do. I made a deliberate attempt to calm down. "Look, Chief, let's do this in order. We gotta figure out your situation before we start thinking about stuff like that."

He nodded and dug his fingers into his hair. I swallowed and looked down at my hands, wishing I could do something to erase the air of vulnerability he carried with him now.

"I know," he was saying, "I know. Man, searching the want ads is gonna be an interesting experience. Haven't done that since I was eighteen. Ended up working with my cousin as a process server. Talk about your bad karma." He looked at me, trying to make me share the non-existent humor in the situation but also silently asking me not to call him on his babbling.

"Did you eat?" I asked, catching a whiff of spice coming from the kitchen.

He shook his head. "Nah, wasn't hungry."

"There's dinner in the oven, if you want it."

"Yeah? What?"

"Cuban."

"Damn, if I'd known that I would've come home earlier! Far be it from me to turn down free food, especially now, right?" I flinched a little at that; Sandburg making jokes at his own expense wasn't something I wanted to deal with yet.

I cleared my throat, because I had to make one thing perfectly clear. Trying to keep the stiffness out of my voice, I said as casually as I could, "Look, you know you don't have to worry about food or a roof over your head, right? I realize that it should go without saying but - "

He chuckled and this time there was some other emotion embedded in the sound. "Thanks, Jim. I mean it, that's really nice to hear." He glanced at me, then looked away.

"What?" I asked, feeling a twinge of uneasiness - it was unusual for Sandburg to have to search for words.

He smiled a little, almost apologetically, and I watched as his hands began to move around, slapping at his thigh and pushing back his hair. "Um, about Simon? See, he has this weird idea that you're gonna leave the force or something stupid like that."

I nodded. "Yeah, he brought it up with me, too. But if it's ok with you, I think I'd better stay employed so we can keep that roof I was talking about." I said it lightly but sincerely, rewarded by the look of honest relief that passed over his face.

"Oh, God, yes! Man, I'm so glad to hear you say that. I knew Simon had it all wrong."

"Well, not all wrong," I said absently as I rolled my neck and flexed my shoulders, trying to work out the kinks after my nap on the couch.

"Hunh?" The surprise in his voice brought me up short.

Damn it - I'd forgotten that I never told Blair about the backroom deals that were made to get him the opportunity to come on board. It was true, I had threatened to walk if something wasn't done to help Sandburg out. At the time, with all of us still so raw from the events surrounding that idiot Bartley and the dissertation, my emotions had been so near the top I'd have said anything to anyone in order to keep Sandburg around.

Funny thing was, I was prepared to do it, too. In the space of a sixty second newsclip, my priorities had changed forever.

"Nothing," I said now, hoping he'd let the subject drop.

"Ok," he answered quietly, a sure sign he wasn't feeling himself. Normally, I'd get an interrogation over something like this, but not tonight.

We sat there for a few minutes, a new awkwardness between us. For just a second, I really disliked Simon, even though I knew this wasn't his fault. He was just the messenger and somebody once said you weren't supposed to kill those guys.

Finally I stood up. "C'mon, Chief. As of right now we're both still employed and that means work in the morning. Get some sleep and we'll tackle this head on tomorrow. How's that sound?" Much as I wanted to plan a course of action I could tell Sandburg was fading, the day's events catching up. I wasn't feeling all that sharp myself. Spending the evening alternately pacing and sitting on your butt staring at the phone takes a lot out of you, I guess.

He stood up too and stretched his arms high over his head. I found myself gritting my teeth when he turned his back to me, giving me a clear view as his henley rose up over his ass. This was happening more and more often, these little thrills deep in my gut when I caught a certain glimpse of Blair. Sometimes it was the sunlight hitting his eyes just right before he slipped on his shades, or the muscles flexing in his arms when he poured coffee in the morning.

Unaware of my discomfort, Sandburg walked around the loveseat and headed for the bathroom, stopping as he drew even with the doors to his bedroom. Turning, he sighed.

"Jim, um, thanks for waiting up for me, and for the other stuff, too. I just needed some time to get my head around this tonight."

Suddenly I decided I wasn't going to let him off the hook that easy. I came over and stood fairly close to him, not crowding him but making sure I had his complete attention. To emphasize my point, I jabbed him gently in the chest.

"Listen up, Junior. I think I once threatened to use your head for a football and that's looking pretty good right now. We do this together, all right? No going off to mope by yourself and try to fix everything." All by themselves my fingers stopped poking and instead rested lightly on his shoulder.

"Yeah, right," he muttered, starting to turn away. "Like that worked so well the last time." The tinge of bitterness was un-Sandburg-like so I tightened my grip and made him face me again.

"Exactly. So maybe we've both learned a lesson here. Things that affect us both, we deal with together. Like it should be, right?"

He glanced away and then up, looking me straight in the eye. There was a moment of breathlessness between us, on my part because for a second, for a heartbeat, I saw more of Blair than I'd seen in a long time. It rocked me that I'd missed that - that shift that had happened somewhere.

Where the hell has he been? For that matter, where the hell have I been?

Then it was gone. He smiled and moved on to the bathroom, leaving me grasping at nothing. Same as fucking always, only this time I was left with the devastating thought that maybe we hadn't gained any ground at all - we'd only been treading water.

The next day, the first meeting with Simon was over quickly; after the way I'd blown out of his office when he told me the news, I figured he'd be standoffish, at least. But he was completely professional. He joined us when we came in and asked for a verbal on the Deanland case, which Sandburg gave in his usual lecture mode, throwing in non sequiturs only he understood. If Simon noticed the edge to Sandburg's voice, he didn't comment - he just nodded, asked a few questions, and moved on.

The day went on like that, sometimes normal, sometimes surreal. Word had gotten out that Sandburg had been pink-slipped so he spent a lot of time comforting our coworkers. Taggert and Connor took it especially hard. By the time lunch rolled around I'd had enough of the long faces and just wanted them to back off.

I kept thinking - this is fixable. Just somebody tell me how.

After lunch it was back to deskwork. We had an appointment with the DA at four on a previous bust so we were hanging out until then, working on cases and returning phone calls. With me, Sandburg seemed fine. Almost too fine, but he made eye contact and cracked dumb jokes and flirted with the bagel girl, same as always. By silent agreement, we decided not to discuss anything until we got home that night, letting our co-workers get the reaction out of their systems first.

We went our separate ways after the meeting. I needed a haircut and some socks and he had to pick up some new glasses, so we planned to meet up at home and do leftovers before going over the severance paperwork he'd received from Human Resources. I'd never admit this, but I really liked the little slices of domesticity we managed to work into our lives. For all that lone wolf crap I used to hear about me, I'd always enjoyed the idea that when the day was done, I could go home and share a meal with someone I cared about. It was one of the best parts of my marriage - I'd made some good memories with that ugly apron, anyway.

The haircut was its usual ten minute job but I spent far too long at Sears getting socks because I sort of accidentally went in the entrance near the power tools. I'd had some ideas about refinishing the balcony doors and I got a little wide-eyed at the sanders - and their prices - before realizing I was running late.

I tried calling the loft but the line was busy, so I shelved my power tool envy and headed for home. By the time I walked in the door, I was starved and disappointed by the lack of food aromas coming from the kitchen, even though I knew Sandburg was there, in his room and on the phone.

I offloaded the jacket, cuffs and holster, then started pulling out dishes and plates. Just as I was divvying up the potatoes, Sandburg came out, cordless tucked between his ear and shoulder as he buttoned the cuffs of a clean shirt. The glasses looked good, I thought idly, then realized they looked pretty much like his old ones. He jerked his chin at me in hello, then frowned when he saw what I was doing.

"Hold on," he said into the receiver, then pulled it away to talk to me. "Hey, not for me, Jim, thanks. Going out." He smiled at me, then proceeded with his conversation.

"Yeah, sounds good. I'm telling you, they have the best halibut cheeks. You'll love it." A pause, then a laugh. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I slid the potatoes off of his plate onto mine. "Ok, fifteen minutes. First round's on me." I stuck the plate in the microwave and started it, then grabbed a bottle of water on my way into the living room. Sandburg said his goodbyes and set the phone in its cradle. He took a deep breath and rested his hands on his hips, shaking his head and laughing quietly.

Then he looked up at me and I felt ice slide through my veins.

Between one breath and the next, I lost him.

I believe in karma. I believe in divine intervention. Well, see, I believe the Mariners can make it to the Series without A-Rod so maybe I'm not the greatest judge on acts of God and stuff like that.

But when David called the afternoon after I was laid off, it was like a slap upside the head with a spiritual two-by-four - and I mean that in a good way. I'd had a little pity party the previous night - ok, it was the fucking Super Bowl halftime of pity parties but without the boy band - and hadn't come to any conclusions other than I was the unluckiest son of a bitch I knew. After chasing this fairly unhelpful line of thought around for a few hours, I'd given up driving aimlessly and headed for home. Unfortunately, the last person I wanted to talk in the world lived there, too. But, with any luck, he'd be asleep and I could have a night's rest before I had to face him and tell him I had no idea how I was going to fix this one.

But hey - true to form, my streak of bad luck wasn't over yet. Jim had obviously waited for me and was just as obviously pissed. What wasn't clear at first was why he was pissed. It wasn't my night to fix dinner and even Jim wouldn't have held me to that after the day I'd had. Yet there he was, sitting in the dark, angry. I remember thinking, gee, throw in a root canal and wouldn't my day be complete.

And then Jim surprised me. He hadn't done that in a long time. He was actually mad that I hadn't come to him for help on this. In fact, he was almost belligerent about it, as if he'd expected me to do nothing less. I tried to throw out some ideas and he kept bringing the conversation back to me, using words like "together" and "us". I almost lost it when he brought up the thing about food and shelter, because I know I'd never let things get that far. I wanted a lot of things from Jim - but not charity. Never that. It wasn't that long ago that I'd sworn I'd never ask anyone for money again, having been shot down pretty brutally the last time I tried it. I mean, come on, enough is enough.

The next day at work wasn't exactly a picnic, either, but I survived. Jim helped, being an oasis of ordinary in an otherwise difficult day. By the time I'd made it home, I was wiped out. I love the people I work with, right? They're great friends - but I'd already done my time in the spotlight. And now here I was, shoved right back into it.

Luckily, the new glasses I'd ordered were covered under my soon to be cancelled medical insurance, so that saved me some money. I made it home in good time, figuring I had an hour or so before Jim was due and we'd have what was sure to be a depressing after dinner conversation. The paperwork I'd received from HR was intimidating for a couple of reasons: one, because it was half an inch thick and two, because it represented the reality of my pretty lousy situation.

As it turned out, I'd only been home maybe fifteen minutes before the phone rang. It was the Bellevue chief of police, wondering if I'd consider going down there to meet with him about an opening he had. He knew me from a case we'd worked on a few months ago that had taken us into King County after some kidnappers. Simon had warned me that word travels fast in law enforcement, but this was ridiculous. I can usually think pretty fast on my feet, but this caught me offguard and I found myself saying yes to a meeting before I really meant to. The next thing I knew I was scrounging around for a piece of paper so I could jot down the details.

After that, I threw myself on the couch, wondering what could possibly happen next. I had no intention of being a cop after the end of the month but no one knew that except me. Jim and Simon could speculate that might be the case, but that was one decision I was clear on. I had become a detective to be with Jim. End of story. Sure, I liked the job - I always had, even before it was official - but being a cop without Jim...well, it was just - unthinkable.

Then my already overly complicated life became even more interesting. Next time the phone rang it was David Butler. Now here's a guy with impeccable timing.

I'd met David at the academy; even though technically I'd only been required to complete weapons training, I'd signed up for some classes on criminology and he'd been a guest instructor, hired from the private sector to lecture on money laundering and bank fraud. For whatever reason, we'd hit it off and started hanging out together occasionally, sharing a fondness for live music and fried calamari.

And I'm not naive. David's a great guy but he made it clear from the beginning that friendship wasn't all he wanted from me. I was flattered, even a little attracted at first, but I made sure he understood that I wasn't interested. He didn't ask why and I didn't explain but I don't think it was any coincidence that David never met me at the loft before we caught a movie or grabbed a bite to eat. It's not like I ever just came out and said anything but sometimes it takes too much effort to keep putting up that fake front. David probably figured it out and left it alone.

We hadn't seen each other for a while so it was great to hear his voice. I may have reacted a little strongly to the call but I was just so freaked about losing another job I grabbed onto his friendly voice like a lifeline.

Then it got better. David worked for the Van Zant Institute, a private not for profit institution with lots of money and reportedly altruistic goals. He thought maybe, just maybe, there might be a spot for me if the police thing wasn't working out. Hunh - nice way of putting it, anyway. He wasn't specific but he led me to believe my background in indigenous studies was crucial. I didn't come right out and say that I'd already been canned from the force but I said that I was definitely interested. We were just making plans to meet when I heard Jim come home.

Funny how the mind works. While I hadn't been looking forward to going over the paperwork, I had been kind of jazzed about the idea of spending the evening with Jim and being the center of his attention. A little on the pathetic side, sure, but things between us had been improving and his willingness to walk through this mess with me was a huge milestone for us.

But on the other hand, it was never enough. There once was a time, way back, when I'd thought Jim and I might become more than partners. Almost from the beginning, I'd noticed the chemistry between us and while I'm fairly sure Jim did too, there was no way he was ready to embrace - well, anything, except the next bad girl in a long line of bad girls . We had something going for us, anyway. I wasn't in any rush and God knows I'm easily distracted, so I was content to wait for Jim to grow into the idea. I was contemplating actually doing something about it when we came back from the oil rig but stuff kept coming up and getting in the way. Then it was all pretty much blown out of the water when we screwed up with Alex.

But even through the longs days after that disaster, when Jim didn't seem to give a rat's ass about me, I'd never stopped wanting more. Wanting to be his friend, his partner - and his lover. When I surprised myself by sticking around during those tough times, I knew I was down for the count. And since the day I accepted the gold badge, I'd started seeing glimpses of the Jim that I'd fallen in love with as we gradually started to trust each other again. So, I settled for what I could get, because two out of three ain't bad. Or so I kept telling myself.

And then bam - time for Blair Sandburg to face reality. I needed a job and there weren't a lot of opportunities for ex-anthropologist-shaman-cops. I know. I checked the Yellow Pages and we're not listed.

I've had enough therapy to realize that deciding to go out with David was classic avoidance. The sensible thing to do was to make plans to meet David later in the week, sit down after dinner with Jim and do the damn paperwork. But as soon as David mentioned the possibility of a position for me, it was a done deal. If filling out forms wasn't my idea of a good time, it was torture for Jim. It didn't take a whole lot to convince myself that we deserved the night off.

Then there was the whole ego thing. Not only did David like me - ok, he really liked me. As I finished up our conversation, the idea started seeming pretty attractive. It'd been a long time since I'd dated a guy and since things with Jim were never going to go where I wanted them to - well, that was another little dose of reality that I needed to face.

After I'd hung up the phone, I noticed Jim was looking at me strangely. I was still wrapped up in the whole cosmic timing of David's call and half thinking about the traffic between here and the restaurant when something in Jim's expression stopped me.

"Hey," I said, smiling, "you remember David? That instructor from the academy? Get this - the place he works for has an opening that might be doable for me! Is that great timing or what?"

Jim frowned a little, taking a swig from his water bottle. "Doing what?" He moved past me, looking around for the remote.

My smile faltered a little. I shrugged and went to grab my jacket. "Not sure. He's gonna explain over dinner. Hey! You wanna come?" My hand was already halfway to his coat but inside I was kicking myself. Ten seconds ago I was thinking how nice it was that someone had a little more than a platonic interest in me, and now I was practically begging Jim to come along.

Jim shook his head, moving back into the kitchen when the microwave pinged. "No, you go ahead. I'm in for the night."

I watched for a second while he busied himself getting his dinner together, a vague sense of wrongness settling in the pit of my stomach. I tried again. "C'mon, Jim, come with us. We're going to Anthony's." I wiggled my eyebrows. "You know you love their scampi and that meatloaf has seen better days. Sometimes there ain't enough ketchup in the world, you know what I'm saying?" I made another move for his coat.

"Nope." He looked at me as he passed me on his way to the couch. There was a little smile there, not much, but it looked genuine. I watched as he got settled, pulling the coffee table close so he could eat comfortably. "You go on. Don't be late, though. We told Simon we'd interview that guy before his shift starts at seven, remember?"

Closing my eyes, I smacked my forehead. "Jesus, I'd forgotten. Ok, not a problem." I headed for the door, yanking on my jacket. Then I paused and turned back, catching Jim in mid-chew.

"Sure you won't come with?" I asked softly. Any thoughts of David were long gone; who was I trying to kid, anyway? Now, all I worried about this hint of strangeness that now existed between us and I felt compelled to try and alleviate it.

Jim flicked his eyes at me and then back at the tv as he turned it on. "Yeah, go on. Don't take Madison down to the waterfront, the construction cranes are blocking the street."

I chewed my bottom lip. "Yeah, thanks. Paperwork hell tomorrow night, ok?"

"You got it."

So I left, knowing I'd blown it somehow. But as I headed downstairs I decided to focus on the positive things, like the possibility of employment. Real paycheck-producing, grocery-buying, keep-me-supplied-in-algae employment. And if this night was a step away from Jim, a little space, maybe it was for the best. He and I didn't have much privacy between us but somewhere in the last twenty four hours it seemed like maybe it was a good time to start making some space - maybe in preparation for a time when the spaces between us were all we had left.

"Yes! The Deanland case is finished and I am outta here!"

I looked over from where I stood talking to Taggert and watched as Sandburg hit the print key with a flourish. I nodded to Joel and walked back to my desk just as Sandburg was rising.

"So tell me again what kind of job you're looking at?" He grabbed the report from the printer before answering, giving it the once-over before signing it and handing it to me. I'd already gone to bed by the time he made it home, and our early call made morning conversation even less coherent than usual. Whatever Sandburg had told me about the offer hadn't really penetrated.

"Yeah, ok. Van Zant is an institute that investigates socially responsible investments, like a government watchdog without the politics. Basically, when you buy that mutual fund that claims it doesn't include companies that are sucking up the rain forest, Van Zant verifies it. Kinda like the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval on your portfolio. Conversely, if your company is padding the bottom line by polluting rivers, Van Zant makes sure investors know about that, too." His eyes were shining and I could tell the whole thing attracted him.

"Ok," I said slowly, "and they need an anthropologist why?" I said it carefully, not wanting to sound patronizing because I really didn't get it.

But he understood. He nodded and placed his hands on hips. "Well, mostly what they need is someone conversant with native cultures, someone who can evaluate the effect progress has made on certain regions of the world, and then trace it back to the corporations that fund the destruction. The investigative stuff that I've learned here would be a huge help with that."
He grinned at me, inviting me to share in his good fortune. "So now I've got to get out there and meet the guy who evaluates the data from their field ops. Then David's going to show me around."

His smile turned a little rueful. "So, if all that goes well, I'll have to meet with the hiring board. That's where things could get a little, um, tricky, if you know what I mean."

My mouth tightened involuntarily as I read between the lines. I swear, someday he wasn't going to have to deal with crap like that.

Sandburg brightened. "Luckily, David says he can do a little groundwork on that. Sounds like his opinion carries a lot of weight around there, so it probably won't be as bad as whatever my imagination can dream up."

I mustered up a smile and wordlessly turned to the report he handed me. I knew it was fine, he knew it was fine, but we had this little ritual where he waited patiently while I searched for the rare error. When I found one, I gave him hell. It was a good-natured game we played - one I usually lost.
Finally, sighing heavily and shaking my head, I set the document on my desk and flipped to the last page to sign it, then handed it back to him. He grinned at me as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, then moved off to Rhonda's desk. After dropping it off he came back and stopped by my chair.

"I'll catch you at home, Jim." I could tell his mind was already halfway across town.

"Yeah," I replied, giving him a nod. He paused, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet before shrugging and taking off.

Something about that bugged me, so I watched Sandburg's retreating back through the blinds, his beat up leather jacket swinging over his shoulder as he tossed off goodbyes to everybody in his path. His good humor wasn't forced like it had been the day before and I found myself wondering about that. I couldn't figure out why he was so interested in a job that just sounded like a lot of paper pushing to me.

That reminded me. Even if I couldn't help Sandburg find a job, at least I could help out in other ways. I walked over to the bullpen entrance and grabbed the doorframe, leaning my upper body into the hallway.

"Sandburg!"

He pivoted and trotted back to me, grinning good-naturedly. "What? I use a colon instead of a semi-colon? Not that you'd know the difference. Punctuation isn't for the faint of heart, you know."

I rolled my eyes. "Tonight. You, me, and that crap from HR. I'll stop by Tattaglia's on the way home."

He smiled as he dragged on his jacket. "Yeah? Cool! Here." He started to reach for his wallet in his back pocket but I shook my head.

"Forget it. You get it next time."

He raised his hands, laughing. "Ok, twist my arm. Later." He gave my shoulder a backhanded swat and then turned to head back toward the elevator. I moved back to my desk but habit had me listening to the distinct rhythm of his Nikes slapping the linoleum.

Consequently, it was easy for me to hear that the last person Sandburg met before he entered the elevator was Megan Connor.

"G'night, Sandy! Where you off to?" I sat down, smiling a little. Give it a rest, Connor. You've been flirting with him for months and he hasn't taken the bait yet. Biting him was not a smooth move because anyone could tell you that Sandburg is not into pain.

"Hey, Megan. Oh, off to see an old friend - you remember David Butler? You met him last year at the concert?"

"Ooh, the one with those killer green eyes and the legs up to - "

"Yeah, yeah, him. Jeez, settle down!" The words were said teasingly and they both laughed. There was something exclusionary about this conversation and I got the distinct feeling they would never have had it in front of my face. Now, a guy with good ears, sitting innocently at his desk, that's another story.

"You having dinner with him? More importantly, is he still single?" There was enough innuendo in that tone to fuel a soap opera.

I could hear Sandburg rolling his eyes from here. "Look, does it matter? He works for a company that may have a place for me, that's the important thing."

"Oh, Sandy," she said, and all the teasing had left her voice. The sad tone was sincere.

"Hey, c'mon! I'll still come around! I realize this place will be pretty dull without me - oh, man, I gotta run. See ya tomorrow!"

My eyes were glued to the form on my monitor but I didn't see it. The reality that Blair wasn't going to be around the bullpen much longer was beginning to hit me with sickening regularity. No matter what else he ended up doing, he wasn't going to be my partner any more.

Oh great, just what I needed.

"Hi, Jim! When did Sandy start seeing David again?" Connor parked her butt on the edge of my desk and leaned in conspiratorially. I grabbed the manila folder she was sitting on and gave it a yank, making her stand up again with an annoyed little yelp.

I figured her strange choice of words was some problem she had with the native language. "Guy's a friend of his. Sounds like he may have a job for him." I started to turn back to my computer screen but as usual Connor didn't take the hint.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and smirked at me. "I'll just be he does," she purred.

That made me pay attention. I narrowed my eyes at her and for some reason that caused her to take a little step back.

"Connor, are you trying to tell me something here or is there a point to your weird interest in Sandburg's social calendar?"

She looked at me pityingly and shook her head. "Jim, haven't you ever met David?" She crossed her arms and waited.

I thought about it. I knew that Sandburg had met him at the academy and that sometimes they caught a movie or a game, but beyond that the guy never crossed my radar.

"Hell, Connor, will you respect me any less if I say no?" I shrugged and opened my top desk drawer, searching for that chocolate covered graham cracker I'd managed to rip off from Sandburg's stash.

When she didn't respond, I looked up in time to receive the Full Annoyed Aussie. Rolling eyes, hands on hips, a toss of hair - she had it down pat.

"Really, Jim. Ever wonder why? No, don't answer, you've obviously not been paying attention."

I pointed a finger at my chest. "See this? This is me not caring so unless you have a point here - "

"David wants Sandy, Jim."

"Yeah, I know."

"No, you don't. I don't mean a job, I mean want as in, you know, want." Her eyes widened emphatically.

Oh, Christ - I was paying attention now. I swallowed against a throat gone suddenly dry. To cover, I waved her off and turned away.

"So what? Sandburg's a grownup; I'm sure he's faced this kind of thing before. He'll tell the guy where to get off."

"If he wants to, that is. Don't be so sure of yourself, detective."

Connor was really starting to tick me off. "Look, I've got work to do and I assume you do, too. What Sandburg does with his spare time isn't any of my business or yours, you got that?"

I glanced up and she was looking at me with something a lot like contempt. "Yeah. I got it." She started to move away, then whirled and planted her fists on my desk, leaning in close.

"You know, mate," she said quietly, her body stiff with animosity, "I may not have figured out your so-called 'gift' right away, but one thing I noticed as soon as I arrived here was that Blair Sandburg is head over heels in love with you. The other thing I noticed was that you were too bloody stupid to see it. If he takes this job and leaves you flat, you've no one to blame but yourself." With an angry slap on the desk, she straightened and walked away.

I needed air. Now. I stood up so fast my chair bounced off the wall behind me but all I could think of was getting away from the suffocating confines of the bullpen. The next thing I knew I was on the roof, staring blindly at the horizon and wondering just how much more fucked up my life could get.

If Blair Sandburg was in love with me - well, he was more fucked up than I was because he'd done a hell of a good job hiding it from me for the past four years.

No, that wasn't fair. I knew Blair loved me. Like a friend, a brother, a partner. In love - with me? I may have questioned his taste in women, but at least I was always pretty sure they were women.

I rubbed at the muscles on the back of my neck, trying to release the tension gathering there. Squinting against the intermittent sunlight, I played Connor's words over and over in my head and started pacing. The sky was starting to cloud over again and I could smell the coming rain, but I needed time on that roof. Maybe Connor had it all wrong.

Even as I formed the thought, I rejected it. It felt right. It felt like truth. The real question was how I felt about Blair Sandburg being in love with me.

Blair - in love with me. Images rushed through my mind, almost faster than I could acknowledge them. Blair, caught up in his own hell when he overdosed, my voice the only the sound he could trust. His voice, walking me through every obstacle, every trap that my senses set for me. That same voice, shaky with restrained tears as he proclaimed to the world he was a fraud, a cheat - God, it was the voice that kept me alive.

Then there was his touch, his scent - his taste. A taste polluted by fetid water and chemicals and yet underneath, still so powerful. With a bittersweet jolt, I realized that was the only time I'd ever tasted him.

So, how did I feel about this? I sat down on the ledge of the helipad, head bowed and hands loose between my knees, trying to reason it out. Fear, anger, pressure - relief? Was that what being in love felt like? It sure the hell didn't feel like any other times I'd been in love - if I ever really had been. Even with Caro, I felt later like I'd followed some poorly written script that said that was the time to get married.

But Blair - Blair took me out of all that, with his intelligence, his personality, his loyalty. No script in the world could dream this guy up. Jesus, was he the reason every relationship I'd had since he came into my life went belly up?

Am I that much of an idiot?

I lifted my head and looked out; if not for the skyscrapers blocking the view, I could've seen the loft - my home. Our home. Taking a deep breath, I realized it was time to take stock. It didn't take long.

Blair was my best friend, I loved him - and God help me, yes, I wanted him. There wasn't any point in trying to persuade myself that those little twinges were anything other than desire. I'd thought I could ignore them, but now that the idea that Blair might want me the same way was planted in my head, it was all I could think of. The image of Blair in my bed was so powerful I closed my eyes, fighting down the swamping feeling of wanting that surged up inside me.

After a minute, the cool bite of the breeze and a drop of moisture on my cheek warned me that my time was up. Time to go back and try to make sense of all this. If this had happened six months ago, I might've been better prepared to deal with it. As it was, what with Blair leaving the force and finding a job somewhere without me, things were too complicated to get into it right now.

But as far as I was concerned? Well, there it was. Love, desire, friendship - I'd give it all to Blair this time. No holding back, no playing games. If he really did want me - he had me.

This job looked so good, I was stunned.

As I drove home after my meeting with David, I felt totally shell-shocked. Van Zant had everything - state of the art systems, a well-defined management team and highly developed paths of accountability. Not to mention they had access to research I'd only dreamed about and a sincere wish to improve conditions worldwide by hitting people where it hurt the most - their portfolios. David had been pretty sure about my chances of getting an offer and after meeting with some of the other researchers out there, I had to agree. Like I'd told Jim, David had already talked me up a little so I wasn't exactly starting from ground zero.

In essence, it was about as good a deal as I could imagine except for one giant, glaring omission: no Jim Ellison. Anything I did, anywhere I went - none of it would be as meaningful if I didn't have Jim to share it with. But more and more, it was looking like I didn't have a choice.

I walked into the loft and sniffed appreciatively; the warm air was redolent of oregano and Roma tomatoes. I could hear Jim futzing around upstairs but he'd already set the table and opened a bottle of wine. The wine was a nice touch, considering our after dinner entertainment consisted of figuring out how screwed I really was.

"Be a sec, Jim," I called, pulling off my jacket. Unhooking my holster, I held it in my two hands, staring down at the gun it held. In a few days, I wouldn't be allowed to wear the damn thing anymore. I'd be back to the life I'd once expected I'd lead - academic and contemplative and - safe.

Now where did that thought come from?

Sighing, I popped the clip and stored it all away before heading into the bathroom to clean up. When I came out, Jim had the pasta dished and the wine poured and was sitting at the table, the sports page neatly folded by his plate as he read the box scores.

I pulled out my chair and straddled it, noticing with pleasure that Jim had gone all the way and gotten Tattaglia's awesome house salad, too. I pushed the pasta to the side for the time being and dragged the salad plate closer.

"So," Jim said as he tossed the paper aside, "how'd it look?"

The fork paused halfway to my mouth. I knew that tone. Something was wrong.

I swallowed and set my fork down. Jim was spooning grated parmesan onto his penne pasta and I realized he hadn't looked directly at me since I walked in. It suddenly hit me that Jim was probably really hoping this job was the godsend I needed; it would get him off the hook worrying about me. I put a lot enthusiasm into my voice but the tale didn't require a lot of embellishing on my part- the place was phenomenal.

I nodded. "Good. Real good, in fact. The facility is awesome, man - totally top of the line. They've got resources Rainier could only dream about. Plus, they're probably going to be expanding to other countries in the next five years, so they're developing whole teams of advisors. This could mean some serious travel opportunities, not to mention the possibility of teaching-"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up there, Chief." Jim handed me the cheese and then pointed at my plate. "Eat or we're never gonna get to that stuff from HR."

He looked me in the eyes and smiled a little, so I thought maybe I'd misread him earlier. With a little sigh of relief, I proceeded to eat and talk, and pretty soon I started feeling genuine enthusiasm about the Van Zant job. If Jim wasn't exactly effusive in response - well, Jim and "effusive" don't belong in the same sentence.

I also filled him in on the offer from Bellevue, which brought on an interesting response.

"Bellevue? Why the hell would you want to move to that yuppie wasteland?" He drained his wineglass and reached for the bottle.

"Hey, I don't! No, no more for me," I said when he started to fill my glass. He ignored me and gave me a glassful, anyway. "Aside from the fact it was nice of him to call, there's no way I'd be a cop anywhere but Cascade."

"Glad to hear it," he muttered, taking another sip. This was weird - Jim never drank like this on a work night. Sometimes a beer or two, but he's a big guy and could handle it. A quick look at the bottle and I realized we'd gone through about two thirds of it - and I was only on my second glass.

Looking up, I studied his face. Despite the amount of wine he'd had, he still looked tense and unhappy.

"Hey, you ok?" I asked quietly.

He looked up at me and hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. A little tired, maybe. So, you think this job with Van Zant is a done deal?"

I shrugged and got up to start clearing the table. "It's looking like it. David said -"

"You gonna be working with him?"

"Nope. Hand me the cheese - thanks. David's in another area altogether, the one that evaluates the investments directly. Anyway, he said he was pretty sure the powers that be understand the difference between writing a dissertation and actually submitting it." I got the dinner things squared away and then grabbed the HR packet from my bedroom. Jim remained seated, drinking and staring into space. Something was definitely not right with him tonight.

I sat back down and took a deep breath. "Oh, man. I am so not looking forward to this."

Jim scooted his chair over next to mine, his eyes fixed on the paperwork in front of me as he rolled up the sleeves of his red sweater. He seemed oblivious to the little sigh I let escape, so I just took a gulp of wine and opened the envelope.

Pressing my lips together, I flipped to the front page. It was a friendly, upbeat letter from the head of Human Resources that assured me that although the Cascade PD didn't want me anymore, she was sure someone, somewhere did.

That, and my desk had to be cleared out by 5:00 on my last day because maintenance was scheduled to move it out so they could wax the floors.

Anyway, we muddled through it and most of the time I managed to ignore Jim's arm that had somehow ended up draped across the back of my chair. Despite bullpen lore, Jim can handle paperwork just fine. There were affidavits of confidentiality, weapons waivers, temporary insurance applications - the pile seemed endless. We also finished off the wine in the process. We both have a pretty hard head so all it did was make the task a little more bearable. An hour later, I pushed the completed paperwork away and stretched.

"You hear from the union rep, yet?" Jim asked as we both stood up.

"No. Don't expect to, either." I shuffled the papers together and stuffed them back into the envelope. I looked up to see Jim frowning at me.

"Why not?"

I shrugged. "It's Frank Spotter, remember? Guy's never been my biggest fan, you know."

To my surprise, Jim reached over and ruffled my hair, something he hadn't done much since I cut off a lot of the length. "Nope - that's my job, remember?" Then he gave my head a friendly little two-fingered shove. "Ok, enough of this. We got any Nanaimo bars left?"

That was more like it; Jim finally shed his morose mood and I let myself relax a little. The search for the bars was thankfully short and in a few minutes we were ensconced on the couch with cookies, milk, and the Invisible Man ep I'd taped last week.

It felt perfect. Almost. Jim's head in my lap would have been even better but I told that thought to take a hike. But even as we laughed at the dialogue, I had the funniest feeling, like the winds of my life were about to shift yet again.

I hate being right.

I had a couple of days reprieve before things started getting wonky. Frank Spotter finally graced me with a phone call, giving me the obligatory "your union is behind you all the way" speech but still not managing to keep the gloating out of his voice. He'd been an outspoken critic of mine since I'd become a detective, resenting the way I'd achieved the gold badge. Whatever - the guy was entitled to his opinion. I thanked him and hung up; I knew all along I wasn't going to get any help from that quarter.

It was on Friday that my premonition started to come true. David had been out of town since Wednesday, so I hadn't had a chance to talk with him. He'd told me he was getting back Friday night and that he'd call me, so I wasn't expecting to hear from him until the weekend. Imagine my surprise when I strolled into the bullpen after a quick trip to the lab to find David leaning a thigh against my desk and talking to Brown.

My face broke into a grin. "David! Hey, what are you doing here?" We shook hands and then I jerked a thumb at H.

"Whatever he said, don't believe it. This guy's the biggest liar you've ever met."

"Yeah, 'cept for you, Sandburg," Brown grinned. "Ok, my babysitting deed's done for the day. Nice to meet you," he said to David before moving off.

I laughed and turned to my guest. "Sorry about that. I must've missed the page. See, unless I'd put you on the list down at the sergeant's desk, they won't let you come up unaccompanied. We've, uh, had some problems in the past with unwelcome visitors. Quite a few problems, actually."

David looked at me, his dark green eyes warm and smiling. "No problem. Matter of fact, that detective was telling me something about an alligator? He was kidding, right? Anyway, sorry to burst in you like this, but I was in the neighborhood - ok, ok," he laughed with me, "so that's lame. Actually, I wanted to see where you worked and to offer you an invitation."

"Yeah? To what?"

David was about to answer when I heard Jim's voice as he was coming out of Simon's office. I turned to see him walking towards me, a manila folder in his hand.

"Heads up, Chief, I think we've got a lead on the Hawthorne case. We'll need to head out to the warehouse this afternoon and see if we can talk to that dock worker again."

"Be still my heart," I said with a grin. "Hey, Jim, someone here I'd like you to meet. David Butler, this is my partner, Jim Ellison. Jim, this is David, the guy who may just take me away from all this."

I knew there was a reason these two had never met before. I mean, I saw them shaking hands and smiling at each other but I swear the temp dropped, like, ten degrees. As they made getting to know you noises, I watched them. Guess I'd never noticed it, but they were about the same height, with Jim maybe a little broader in the shoulders. That was about the only similarity; in contrast to Jim's brown hair and blue eyes, David had wavy, strawberry blond hair and eyes so green they almost looked fake.

"Anyway," David was saying, "I was hoping to steal Blair away for the afternoon. One of my co-workers can't make it to a symposium being held down at the University of Washington and I've been asked to pinch hit."

He laid a hand on my shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. "I thought maybe you'd like to come along. There's a dinner thing afterwards, but we wouldn't have to stick around for that. Think you can make it?"

Oh, man, he sounded like he was flat out asking me on a date, right there in the bullpen. I shook my head. I didn't dare look in Jim's direction.

"Sorry, no can do." I waved a hand towards my desk. "Too much work."

Beside me, Jim tossed the folder on his desk and crossed his arms over his chest, not saying word one.

David shook his head. "Too bad. The speaker is one of the members of the Eden Project."

My mouth gaped open and I felt a stab of disappointment. "Yeah? Oh, man, I'd love to hear about that." I shook my head regretfully. "But I can't. Thanks for asking, though."

"What's the Eden Project?" Jim asked, his eyes fixed on mine as he turned slightly away from David.

"It's this totally cool place in England, where they've created this entire world based on a concept they call sustainable development. They've built a complete environmental model in Cornwall - " I saw Jim's eyes start to drift so I down-shifted on the enthusiasm. Turning back to David, I shook my head.

"I'm envious," I added simply.

And I was. I'd followed the story of the Eden Project for some time, fascinated by its concepts and theories. To hear one of the originators of the plan speak on the subject would have been a minor thrill, to say the least.

David shrugged. "Too bad," he said. "I hear it's a great presentation."

I sighed. "Yeah, but thanks for asking, anyway." I stabbed him in the shoulder with my forefinger. "Just be sure to remember all the good parts, ok?"

"Sandburg, why don't you go ahead and go?"

I turned to Jim in surprise. "What? Thought you said we had a lead on Hawthorne!"

He nodded as he moved around to his desk. "We do, but all I need to do is question this one guy. Couple of minutes and we're done. I'll take Brown with me; he knows the case already. Go ahead and take off."

There it was again, that feeling that something was just - different - with Jim. But, God, I was so tempted.

"Well," I said slowly, "guess they can't fire me, right?"

That got me a little grin. "Nope."

"Ok, if you're sure," I said doubtfully.

"Yeah. Excuse me," he said to David, then moved off to go talk to Brown.

"Looks like you're free after all," David said.

"Yeah," I answered quietly as I watched Jim walk away, "I guess I am."

I didn't see much of Sandburg for the rest of the weekend, not even when he came home to sleep or change clothes. After the week he'd had, I wanted him to have some time to do something he enjoyed but I didn't expect him to be so scarce. I was right; questioning the witness had taken less than an hour and then H. and I went and had a beer after the shift. I figured it was something I needed to get used to anyway - Blair not being at my side.

I hadn't made any plans for the weekend so I just stuck to my usual schedule - worked out, changed the oil in the Ford, cleaned the guns. When I felt like kicking myself in the ass from time to time, I just went back to the gym.

Needless to say, I was stiffer than hell by Sunday afternoon.

I was just so damn confused. One minute, I'm convinced Connor was right and the next Sandburg's off chasing around with this Butler character, someone who could become a big part of his life. And here I was, practically throwing Blair into his arms out of some misguided desire to show that I was supporting him in whatever he ended up doing. I sure the hell hadn't been able to come up with anything for him.

Guess I really am an idiot.

I was hauling a basket load of laundry up from the basement and heard Blair exit the elevator as I reached the landing.

"Sandburg! Hold the door!"

He jumped at the sound of my voice. "Jim! Jeez, you startled me. You need a hand?"

"No, just get the door."

"Sure."

We both got inside and I dumped the laundry on the couch while Sandburg hung his jacket up.

"Where you been all weekend?" I asked as I started separating clothes. He stepped over and began helping, pulling his more colorful socks out and balling them.

"Man, all over creation. Had the symposium on Friday, which was totally awesome, by the way, then we skipped the rubber chicken gig and headed into Seattle so we could go to Jazz Alley. Then, see, David's in the process of moving, so I helped him get some stuff into his new place today. Oh, and yesterday, we went back to Van Zant so he could show me the facilities when the place wasn't so busy."

I folded one of his tees and started to hand it to him. When he reached for it, I noticed something different.

"That a new shirt?"

He looked down, as if surprised to find he was wearing one. "Hunh? Oh, no. It's David's. I spilled chutney on mine at lunch today, so he loaned me this one."

Peach salsa chutney, to be exact. Didn't even have to try that hard.

His voice sounded a little funny and when I looked at him directly, I noticed a slight flush along his cheekbones. The color didn't distract me from the fact that the shirt looked damn good on him. For one thing, it was too big, so the first button hit him just above mid chest and he wasn't wearing a tee underneath.

But it was the color that had me staring. It was the blue-green of a tropical lagoon, clear and pure. On it's own, it was no big deal, but when I caught a look at what it did to his eyes, I swallowed hard. Jesus, I didn't need this. Then I noticed how the fabric played over his skin, subtly caressing it in a way that could only mean it was silk. A closer look confirmed it. High end silk, at that.

I was tempted to rip the damn thing off his shoulders. Instead, I looked away before I could embarrass myself. Reaching for another shirt, I spoke as casually as I could.

"So, when do you think you'll hear from this place?"

"Tomorrow."

My head jerked up at that. "How do you know?"

He shrugged and started juggling three pairs of folded socks. "These people don't exactly keep banker's hours, you know? The hiring board consists of three people, two of whom I met yesterday, so I got a chance to talk with them informally. It's not gonna pay a lot but definitely enough to get by on." He tossed one pair higher than the rest, twisting to catch it behind his back. He lifted his arms up in acknowledgement of an imaginary crowd, then dropped them all with a yelp when I flung a pair of boxers in his face.

"Don't quit your day job," I said - and then froze. God, my mouth, sometimes.

He pulled the boxers off his head and to my surprise, he was grinning.

"Funny, Ellison. You know me, why quit when getting laid off looks so much better on a job application." He folded the underwear and starting gathering up the rest of his laundry.

"Seriously, this is looking good," he said, as I added the socks to the precariously balanced pile in his arms. "Things happen in life for a purpose so maybe this is the next step for me."

I wanted to be happy for him - I really did. I found a smile somewhere and gave it to him. "Sounds good, Chief. Glad it's working out." With that, I grabbed the basketful of folded clothes and headed upstairs.

"Thanks," came the curiously subdued reply.

When I reached my room I tossed the basket on the floor and sat down on the bed, feeling like I'd been betrayed somehow. There was something so damn intimate about Blair wearing that shirt and it was eating me alive inside. It wasn't fair, it wasn't coherent, but I kept wondering how you could be in love with one guy while wearing another man's silk shirt.

Maybe I didn't want to know the answer to that.

Monday came around too early as usual, but we both did a pretty good job of acting like it was just another normal work day. Simon was in meetings all morning and I for one was getting sick and tired of him being yanked around all the time. I know this stuff with Sandburg had hurt him and I hadn't exactly been supportive. In the week since he'd shared the bad news, my conversations with him had been work-related only. True, he hadn't been around much, but still, I owed him more than just a bad attitude.

Meanwhile, Sandburg was jumping every time the damn phone rang. Apparently, the two people that he'd already met were getting together with the one he hadn't to make a final decision. Sounded to me like it was just a formality now.

Finally, at three, he got his call. After he hung up, he looked over at me and smiled. It wasn't the smile I'd been expecting, though. He didn't look excited or even particularly happy; more like relieved. Can't say as I blamed him - a week ago he was thinking no one wanted him and now here he was being offered a job he might actually enjoy.

Sandburg leaned back and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Ok," he said, "that was David. They want to meet at four-thirty. Think I can cut out early one more time?"

I nodded. "Yeah, no problem. Simon's asked me to get together some notes on our current caseload. Guess he still hasn't decided who he's gonna hand me off to. Looks like Brown's the first lucky dog on the list."

Damn. Wrong thing to say. Sandburg went white as a sheet.

"Oh, God, Jim, I just - ! Man, Simon can't just partner you with anyone - he'll need to know - oh, man, I am so sorry! I've been so wrapped up in my own little world here -"

"Hey!" I cut in. "Relax, all right? I'm sure we'll figure something out before you - before Friday. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here."

He swallowed and nodded but wouldn't meet my eyes. "Yeah, ok. Um, you got that list of possible witnesses from the Value Right robbery? I'll start doing the follow-up calls."

An hour later, Sandburg hung up the phone and sighed.

"I'd better get going." He stood up walked past me to grab his jacket off the coat rack. I took a deep breath and rose to face him. For a moment, we just looked at each other. I don't know what he saw in my eyes, but what I saw in his hit me like a ton of bricks.

Blair was scared to death. Not of the interview - hell, we both knew he'd ace that, if these people had any brains at all.

No, this fear was different. It was the fear of turning a corner in your life and having no way to get back. I'm the first to admit that Blair Sandburg is about the gutsiest man I'd ever met, even if he did work without a net most of the time. But the life he'd known for the last four years was about to be left in the dust and no one - not even me, the guy who loved him beyond all reasonable doubt - could go with him.

He wasn't the only one who was petrified.

But I did the only thing I could. I stuck out my hand for him to shake.

"Knock 'em dead, Chief."

He took my hand but instead of shaking it, he just gripped it and held on tight.

"Thanks, man. I'll see you at home, ok?"

"You bet."

He turned and left and I felt like I'd just made one of the bigger mistakes in my life by letting him go.

God, I hope I wasn't making one huge mistake here.

The interview went great; I told them the circumstances surrounding the release of my dissertation, about my well-meaning mother and the fact that my so-called subject was still my closest friend. I didn't have to add that obviously enough people in the Cascade PD felt comfortable enough to have me on the force, either. It was implicit in the interview. A big plus was the fact these people weren't corporate goons and some of them had come to Van Zant by pretty circuitous routes themselves.

From there we moved on to my investigative abilities and my travels abroad. This was all solid ground for me and I sailed through their questions without a hitch. When all was said and done, they offered me the position.

I told them I'd think about it.

David waited outside while I met with the board and when I was done, suggested we go someplace for a drink. It was after we'd gotten settled in a nice booth in some upscale sports bar that I told him what I'd said.

He choked on a mouthful of sour apple martini.

"You what?"

I shrugged and sipped at my Kilt-Lifter. Jeez, who names this stuff, anyway?

"Told them I wanted to think about it."

David started to get angry and I couldn't blame him. He'd really stuck his neck out for me big time. But before he got good and pissed off, he started to chuckle.

"Damn, Blair, you are a piece of work. Here you practically get handed a job on a silver platter and now you're playing hard to get? So what's with the coy act?"

"Hey, don't get me wrong. It's a terrific opportunity and I'm pretty inclined to take it. It's just that I haven't really looked at anything else, you know?"

I watched him closely to see if he bought it; after all, it was kind of true.

He was nodding. "Sure, I understand, I really do. But I doubt you'll get an offer as good this one. This is important work we're doing and you should be a part of it."

I took another drink before replying to this rather lofty statement. "True," I said finally. "But they seemed to be fine with waiting a little while I review the situation."

David cocked an eyebrow. "Well, then, ok. Oh, here." He pulled a piece of orange paper from the side pocket of his briefcase.

"I saw this and thought of you. If you end up taking the job," this said with a knowing wink that set my teeth on edge, "you may want to look into moving a little closer. A bunch of these were posted on the bulletin board at my complex; they're taking reservations for the development that's due to open up next month."

I smoothed out the folds and read the notice. The cheapest apartment would just be in my price range and it would be conveniently close to the Van Zant offices. I'd seen David's place when I helped him move and they were nice, in a cardboardy kind of way.

But the very idea had my stomach muscles bunching painfully; I downed my beer and stood up, stuffing the apartment notice in my pocket.

"I gotta go. Thanks for the beer. I'll call you tomorrow, ok?"

I heard his answer but it didn't register. I fingered the cell phone in my pocket as I headed for my car, wondering if I should call Jim or just wait until I got home. I decided to wait - it was only about a twenty minute drive from Layton and I could use the time to think.

Maybe it was a mistake to make them wait. It was a good opportunity - no, it was a great opportunity. A sweet set-up, a management style that was adaptable to my circumstances, a worthwhile cause - but there was a part of me that wanted another choice.

As for Jim, I couldn't really read him on this. There was a reticence in his eyes when I talked about Van Zant, almost like he disapproved. I don't know, maybe he thought I should have looked harder instead of just jumping at the first thing that came along.

By the time I parked on the street in front of the loft, the only conclusion I'd reached was that I was still in love with Jim and totally pissed off at someone for taking away the one sure thing I had with him - the job. Still, I opened the front door with every expectation of taking the position. While I'd never discount the "I have a bad feeling about this" school of decision making, this time I just couldn't make a case for it.

It was about six-thirty; Jim wasn't home yet. I puttered around for a bit, feeling a little disconnected. Right now, I was neither fish nor fowl and I really needed a touchstone, something familiar to ground me.

My preference was a big, blue-eyed sentinel.

Instead, I slipped into a pair of old jeans and a gray v-neck sweater that had seen better days and moved into the kitchen to start dinner. I wasn't hungry but going through the motions was kind of soothing.

I'd just started rinsing a head of romaine when Jim came in.

"Hey, Jim." I dried off my hands while he hung up his jacket.

"Hey," he replied as he joined me in the kitchen. He picked up a piece of red bell pepper I'd chopped up for stir fry and started munching on it. "So? They offer you the position?"

"Yeah," I said with a little laugh. "It's mine if I want it."

Jim frowned and reached for a sliver of carrot. "'If' you want it? I thought that wasn't a problem."

I shrugged and leaned my elbows on the kitchen counter. "Well, it's not, actually. I just wanted some time to think about it."

Jim shook his head and moved away. "Sounds like you're making this more complicated than you need to. It's a job, you need a paycheck - what's to think about?"

Something in his tone grated against my nerves. This was the reply of a Jim from a long time ago, the one that had "suck it up" written all over him. Was this what all his behavior the last couple of days was leading up to?

I crossed my arms over my chest and took a calming breath. "Well, yeah, I guess so. It sounds too good to be true, you know?"

Jim paused at the base of the stairs and turned to look at me impassively. "So take it and get on with your life." With that, he marched up the stairs and left me effectively speechless.

Oh, God. How could I have so completely misread Jim? Yeah, Jim wanted me to take this job.

Or maybe he just wanted me gone.

I gave up all pretense of making dinner. Turning away, I leaned back against the counter and buried my face in my hands. A few minutes later I heard Jim start to come back down the stairs, so I straightened up and started putting stuff away.

"Look, Jim, I'm not real hungry. You mind fending for yourself tonight?"

He was buttoning up a green and white checked shirt, one of my favorites. "No problem. Maybe I'll just finish off the pasta."

I nodded as we passed, giving each other a wide berth at the kitchen threshold. I saw the corner of the apartment flyer sticking out of my jacket pocket and suddenly a road trip was sounding like a good idea.

"Matter of fact, think I'm gonna take off for a while."

Jim turned and frowned at me. "What - out celebrating with your new co-workers?" A pale excuse of a smile played around his mouth, missing his eyes altogether.

"Nope." I pulled the flyer out of my pocket and some twisted part of me handed it to him and waited.

"What the hell is this?"

I opted for nonchalance. "Well, maybe I should make another change here. This place is in Layton, not too far from Van Zant. See," I continued moving to his side to point out the floor plans, "this one is only about - hey!"

The orange paper was crumpled between two large hands before being flung across the room. Startled, I stepped back as Jim moved away, striding into the space between the kitchen and couch before whirling around to face me.

"Is this it, then?" he demanded. "Trying to cut all your losses in one shot?"

"No!" I shouted back, and then made an effort to lower my voice. "What's your problem, Jim?"

He turned away. "I don't have a problem, Sandburg. You want to go, go."

I stood there, dumbfounded, struggling for words. Jim was half turned away from me, his body ramrod straight. Taking a shaky breath, I moved in front of him and made a desperate attempt to save the situation.

"Jim, I don't get this. Please, if we're gonna end this part of our lives, let's at least end it as friends, ok?" I hated the sound of begging in my own voice but I was powerless to stop it. If there was one thing worth begging for, this was it.

"What the hell do you mean, end it? What the fuck are you talking about?" Jesus, where did all that anger come from?

"C'mon, Jim, I've been holding on so long and I just can't - I just can't walk on this ledge anymore, ok?" I shrugged, my heart sinking at his stony expression. As usual, he wasn't making this easy. I swallowed and lowered my voice, aiming for conciliatory and not quite making it. "So I'll take the job, and I'll look at the place over in Layton and life goes on, right? Just ... just let's not fight."

God Jim, please, I don't want to fight with you. Cut me some slack, ok? My eyes felt hot and scratchy, opening wide at his next word.

"No."

I stared at him. He stared right back, crossing his arms over his chest. He was between me and the door and the way he looked right now I wouldn't be seeing the other side of that door anytime soon.

"No?" I replied blankly. This so was not going the way I expected - and getting more painful by the second. And what he just said made no sense at all. "Whaddya mean, 'no'? Jesus, Jim, you can't have it both ways! One way or the other we've got to get past this!"

"Ok, so one way is you leave me. What's the other?" I blinked at that. That was a pretty weird way of phrasing it - what was I missing?

"Hell, it's a friggin' figure of speech, damn it! Any other way - well, let's just say that isn't gonna happen so I guess its back to plan A." Shit, that was more than I planned to say but I was getting so damn tired of all of it. The events of the past week had ground me down and my pride was about to bottom out.

"That what you want?" Jim asked, his voice lowering dangerously. It was a tone I recognized from countless interrogations and I shivered a bit.

Sucking in a big lungful of air, I tried again. "No, frankly, I was hoping for what was behind curtain number two but - look, Jim, it's time, ok? You know the score as well as I do. I'm off the force and I'm not writing a fucking dissertation. There's nothing keeping me here anymore." At those words Jim closed his eyes, hugging himself harder.

Finally, he looked at me. "What about - " he swallowed and looked at something over my shoulder. "- us."

I swallowed, trying to alleviate the suffocating pressure in my chest. "That's what I'm trying to salvage with this inane conversation. I want there to be an 'us', all right? Your friendship is the most important thing in the world to me and I don't want to lose that, too." I watched his eyes. He knew exactly what I meant when I said that and it made him wince a little.

Jim's hands moved to rest on his hips and that small, irreverent part of my brain still had the energy to just sit back and admire the view. But at his next words, we starting heading downhill fast.

"But the sentinel stuff -"

I saw red - I couldn't believe he was throwing that in my face. Clenching my hands into fists, I yelled, "Screw the sentinel stuff! It stopped being about the goddamn sentinel stuff a long time ago!"

That caught him off guard. He looked past me again, his jaw flexing. We were both breathing hard and I was contemplating a quick two step around him and heading for the door. But then he said the words I prayed I'd never hear. He'd come awfully close in the past, but had never just laid it out like this.

"Look, Sandburg - hell, Blair! Don't you get it? Friendship with you just doesn't cut it anymore!"

There it was. The death knell of the most precious thing in my life.

I felt the blood drain from my face and my throat go numb. I shook my head a little, then took a step towards the door. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. "Then I'm sorry. I'm outta here, man."

"The hell you are." He took a step towards me, his hand reaching out and snagging my sweater. I took a quick look at his face; granite was more giving. His hand on me only made me angrier.

"Look, you know what?" My voice rose, taking on an edge of panic when his big hand shifted to wrap around my upper arm. "You don't get a vote any more, all right?" I pushed against him but he was unyielding. Teeth gritted in frustration, I pulled up my other hand and shoved against his shoulder, hard.

He rocked back on his heels but beyond that it had little effect. In fact, he swung his free hand up and grabbed my other arm, trapping me in front of him. I tried yanking away but he only tightened his hold. I've been able to hold my own with Jim in the past, but this time my heart just wasn't in it. Still, I gave another twist to my upper body, trying to break his grip.

"Knock it off," he growled, giving me a little shake when I kept pulling against him.

"Let me go, Jim. You want me to leave, I'll leave." I looked him in the eyes, now so close to mine. I gasped a little when I realized that the anger was gone. Intense emotion remained, yeah - but no anger. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, gravelly.

"Don't! Just...don't. Don't go. Don't leave me." Our glances held and like a thunderclap, the tension in the room changed completely, leaving room for a newer, somehow more frightening emotion. I didn't want to recognize it at first because acknowledging it would mean I still retained some hope that Jim could actually love me. But instead of pushing Jim away my hands came to rest on his biceps, making a complete circle between us.

"Why?" I pleaded. "Tell me why, give me a reason."

His gaze fell to my lips and my breath hitched in the back of my throat. When he met my eyes again there was a cloud over the sky blue that I'd come to love so much. "Because you're breaking my heart, all right?" he said hoarsely. "You're breaking my fucking heart and you don't even care! You're ready to walk away and start a new life without me and it's killing me!"

"Who the hell said I never cared, hunh?" Now it was my turn to shake him. It wasn't quite as effective. "Just what do you think I've been doing for the last four years! What do you think I want to keep doing for the next forty years but you won't let me? I - wait a minute, what did you just say? Who's breaking your heart?" My mind reeled as my head caught up with what he'd just said.

"You will. You are. If you go."

"I - I don't want to break your heart," I floundered, suddenly feeling adrift and dropping my arms. These were words I never expected to hear. "I didn't know I could."

The hands on my arms slid up to lay heavily on my shoulders. "You're the only one, Chief. In my entire, miserable life you're the only one who can actually break my heart." One large palm came up to rest against my jaw as his voice dropped to a whisper. "So what do you think about that?"

I swallowed as he took a step closer. Focussing on the first button of his shirt, the warmth of his hand on my face stealing through my entire body, I raised a shaking hand and planted it in the center of his chest. "I think," I murmured, finally raising my eyes to his face, "that the last thing I want to do is break your heart." I brought my other hand up and curled them lightly into fists and rested them on his chest, right over his heart. Licking my lips nervously, I decided to push him. Hell, what did I have to lose?

"Ok, you tell me, Jim, you tell me right now. What do you want?"

His eyes were fixed on his thumb as it brushed over my cheekbone. God, he was killing me here. Everything I ever wanted - holding me, touching me - but it wasn't enough.

"C'mon, Ellison. Last shot. You want it, it's here. But damn it," I faltered and my next words came out as a whisper. "You gotta ask."

He took a deep breath and met my gaze. "Help me out," he said finally as both of his hands came to rest on the sides of my head, his fingers brushing through the short curls behind my ears.

"Not a chance," I breathed.

He nodded and swallowed, then with careful precision pulled me into his arms until my head rested against his shoulder, my forehead pressed into his neck. My arms went around him in return, holding him lightly, comfortingly.

"Jesus, I love you," he said softly. "So goddamn much."

I tightened my arms before leaning back to look in his eyes. He gazed back at me and I hardly recognized him - his face was young, incandescent - and so, so vulnerable.

"Love you too, Jim, you know that," I said almost absently, still hypnotized by his undeniable beauty and apparently not paying attention to the tone in my own voice.

With a jerk I was hauled back up to Jim's chest, his arms again strapping me in tight but this time my face ended up just under his. The expression in his eyes changed from one of tenderness back to fury and I was unprepared for the anger that shook his voice.

"Damn it, Sandburg," he growled, "does this feel like brotherly affection to you?"

And then his mouth landed on mine.

God.

I've seen Jim Ellison kiss before. Not on purpose mind you, totally by accident, a new girlfriend in the doorway of the loft one night when I came home late. Of course Jim had known I was watching from the stairwell but like I told him later I didn't want to interrupt. He seemed to buy it at the time, anyway. But once I saw how tenderly he did it, how gentle his hands were on her face, it was the fuel of many late and not so late night fantasies from that point on.

This was nothing like that. No little sippy kisses and soft smiles here.

Nope, this was full body contact kissing as his mouth cut across mine, one hand slipping into the hair at the base of my neck and the other running down my back to land on my hip. His mouth was hot and strong, his tongue lapping teasingly at my lips before he lifted his head, took a breath and dove back in. My mouth opened eagerly against his and he accepted the invitation instantly, sliding his tongue inside with a satisfied moan coming from deep in his chest.

I struggled to kiss him back with equal strength as my arms went around his waist, holding him tight. The passion slammed into me so hard I started to shake and it was all I could do just to grab on to his shirt. My head fell back as Jim held me tighter against, his palm sliding down over the curve of my ass to pull us even closer. In contrast to the demanding pressure of his mouth, the hand in my hair was gently caressing and I didn't stop myself from leaning into it. Jim relinquished my lips to trail warm, open mouthed kisses across my face, feather light and so tender it brought tears to my eyes.

Jesus, this was to good to be true, I thought dazedly. There was unmistakable love in Jim's touch and my heart expanded with amazement - no, undiluted joy - at the realization. Just when I thought I could form a sentence, Jim reclaimed my lips and a cataclysm of desire burst between us. It gave me the impetus to grab his arms and push him away. Before he could react, I took his face between my hands and kissed him hard before pulling back.

"Jim! Jim?" His arms, which had slackened when I leaned away, grew tight around me again. I recognized that look in his eyes as he gazed at me; I didn't even try to avoid his lips as they moved against mine again, this time inviting my tongue into the depths of his mouth.

Tasting Jim - God in heaven, he tasted like he looked, strong, masculine and clean. There was something else mixed in, something indefinable but intoxicating. I couldn't get enough of his flavor.

My arms wound around his neck and he took that as an invitation to run his broad palms up and down my sides. Each upward journey pulled my sweater a little higher over my ribs but I barely noticed, having discovered that kissing Jim along his jawline caused the coolest little moans to emanate from his throat.

We started passing breath back and forth between us in a series of kisses that had one strong effect - pure, healthy arousal. I felt it pounding through me in thick rivers, filling me like in ways I'd never imagined - and I've got a hell of an imagination. I pushed demandingly closer to Jim's body and felt his answering response, hot and defined against the fabric of his pants.

That's when some small light penetrated my brain and I stopped, Jim's earlobe grasped delicately between my teeth. I dropped a tiny kiss on his flushed ear and leaned back to meet his heavy-lidded eyes.

Then I thumped him lightly on the side of his head.

"Ow! What was that for?" His arms settled around me, one hand slipping into my back pocket.

"You bastard," I said, pleased that my voice was fairly firm, "that was for giving me the Jekyll and Ellison act for the past week. Half the time you were helping me out and the other half you were practically helping me out the door. What was up with that?" Damn it, my voice had started out so strong, too. I started to take a step backwards but there was no give in the arms that held me.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, then stopped, his cheeks becoming stained with pink.

"That's enlightening - not," I murmured. Not getting any immediate reply, I sighed. "C'mon, Jim, make me believe this is real, ok?"

He cocked his head to one side, then raised a hand to my cheek with a little smile. "Ok, point taken. Look, I'm sorry about the schizo routine. Let's just say I was confused and then I wasn't."

At my indrawn breath - because I wasn't satisfied by a long shot - Jim rested a forefinger over my lips.

"Look, can I spill my guts later? We kinda had a groove goin' here -" he moved in to kiss me again and I wanted to get that groove back myself, so I let it drop. His open mouth brushed against mine, his tongue stroking teasingly at the corners of my mouth. It was such a beautiful, gentle touch, I regretted having to bop him on the head again.

"Hey! Ok, What was that for?"

"Jim," I said patiently. My insides were mush over what I was about to say because I was looking this huge gift horse in the mouth, but I forced myself to go on. "You don't, you know, like men."

He cut his eyes away from mine and I watched as the high color cresting his cheekbones deepened to a rosier shade. I was getting ready to tease him but when he looked back at me, whatever I was going to say flew out of my head.

I'd expected embarrassment or something - what I saw instead was complete, rock solid confidence in who he was and what he felt.

I'd never seen anything so beautiful - ever.

"Oh yeah? Says who? You?" he murmured, taking my head between his hands and prefacing his next words with a quick kiss against my eager mouth. "Well, guess what, hotshot, you made an assumption based on incomplete research."

He tucked my head into his shoulder, his thumb and forefinger rubbing my ear as he continued. "Let me tell you something, Chief. Over the years, I've had plenty of means, motive and opportunity - but you're the only one I'm ready to take a risk on. You're the only one I've wanted to get that close to. So let's just say that what I lack in experience, I think I can make up in enthusiasm. That work for you?"

I gulped a little and rested my palm against his swiftly beating heart. "How close do you want to be, Jim?"

"How close will you let me get?" he countered gently.

Now I felt my own face warming. How do I tell him? God, he knew I liked women. How did I explain my -

"S'ok, Chief," he whispered, "after all this time, I'm pretty sure you won't shock me."

I turned my face into his shoulder and took a deep breath, loving the spicy scent of his warm skin beneath the wool of his shirt.

Gentle hands on my arms pushed me back and I looked up into blue eyes bright with love. I leaned up and pulled his head so that his ear was level with my lips.

"I want to feel you inside me, Jim. That's how close I'll let you get."

Link to text version of part two:
http://www.squidge.org/archive/cgi-bin/convert.cgi?filename=1_2000_firsts/atthe_a.html