You know who they really belong to. But we love them more.

Thanks to members of the slash-writers list who assisted me with information about the US education system and standards.

A while ago I came across a B&W picture on the net which showed a very young looking GM, who was also very sensual and fey, and to me it positively screamed 'rent boy'. After I picked myself back up off the floor, I thought that this picture deserved a story. About 2 days later I started writing Paying the Rent.
Although this is an AU, I've tried to stick as close to the original characters and backstory as possible. The age difference between Blair and Jim is greater than in the show, and Blair's background reflects what could easily have been canon if Naomi had been just a bit weaker and less able to look after herself and her son.
And now to the warnings:
This story contains references to and descriptions of rape, NC and child abuse, though none of it graphic or very detailed.

After almost a year living in Cascade, Jim Ellison had come to the conclusion that the old adage 'the more things change, the more they stay the same' had more than just a hint of truth in it. He'd returned to the city of his birth after being discharged from the Army in the hope of making a fresh start. He'd at least partly achieved his goal by joining the Cascade Police Department and, after graduating top of his class from the Academy, had rapidly been promoted to detective in the Vice Squad. And immediately found himself back in the jungle again - the urban jungle. He'd thought that was just a cliche, but it was all too accurate a description of where he found himself now. With the exception that the real jungle had clear air, and clean water, and the people were friendlier.

On any given night, he'd been told, a man could start at the Harbourside Centre and head south about ten blocks, and he'd find himself in a part of Cascade where anything and everything, including human flesh, was for sale. Jim had gone a couple of blocks further than that. Here, the human flesh was scrawnier and more miserable than the poorest tribes of the Peruvian jungle. Not even the most desperate of prostitutes would come here, unless perhaps they were looking for a fix. This was the domain of the lowest of the drug dealers and of the runaway boys who eked out a meagre existence by selling their bodies for a night or an hour, or a quick, furtive hand or blow job in one of the many alleys in the area.

"You wanna ride?" The boy was one of the youngest, and not pretty, which probably accounted for the desperation in his face. He sniffed and wiped his nose with a grubby sleeve.

Jim slipped a twenty out of his wallet. "No, I don't want a ride. I want to meet someone." He held up the bill and watched as the boy's eyes became riveted to the scrap of paper. "A friend told me I could get what I wanted here. You know anybody who can help me with that?"

"I dunno." The boy blinked, obviously so transfixed by the sight of the money that his thought processes had shut down completely. As Jim lowered his hand towards his wallet again the kid took a deep breath. "Wait. I... I guess Blair would know. He knows everybody here."

"Then how about you take me to Blair. And if he can help me, then I'll give you the cash." Jim waited as the boy looked wildly around for a moment. Then his thin shoulders sagged visibly, and Jim thought he'd struck out. But the reaction had been one of relief it seemed.

"That's him. C'mon." The kid took off and Jim followed him to another boy, perhaps fifteen years old, small and slender; beautiful in a disturbingly androgynous way. "Hey, Blair. This guy wants to talk to you."

Jim looked down into blue eyes that were fifteen going on eighty. "I was hoping you could help me. He tells me you know everybody."

The boy wilted under Blair's furious look. "What did you do that for? Are you crazy Jimmy? He's a narc."

"I'm not a narc. The name's Jim Williamson. Rob Cameron told me I could find what I wanted here." Jim watched as the blue eyes assessed him critically, hoping the name that he'd dropped was as good as it was supposed to be. "Well? Was he right?"

Blair shrugged nonchalantly, tilting his head, and the twin earrings in his left ear flashed briefly. "Depends what you want."

"I guess it does." Jim smiled coldly. "Are you the person I need to talk to? Jimmy, here, 's waiting for his payment." He flashed the twenty again, and didn't miss the way Blair's eyes followed the movement.

"Yeah. I don't deal, but I can help." He spoke grudgingly. "It'll cost you more than a lousy twenty."

"Fine." Jim handed the note to the younger boy, then grabbed his shoulder as he turned to dart away. "Listen, kid, go home. Whatever you ran away from can't be as bad as this."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Blair's voice was dripping with irony, and Jim turned from watching Jimmy's retreat to survey his new informant.

The boy barely reached his shoulder, and was slender as a girl. His long curly hair was tied back, but short tendrils framed his face like a halo. And the face was stunning - pale and delicate, with full lips and no hint of facial hair. He could have been mistaken for a girl, if not for the tight leather pants and electric blue shirt, open to the waist, that proclaimed his masculinity in no uncertain terms.

"So, Blair, how do we do this?" Jim met the young/old eyes and felt them pulling him into their depths in a disturbingly intense fashion.

Blair flashed a look at the other boys scattered along the street. "I'm not talking here. You can pay me for the night and we can go somewhere."

"All right. How much?"

"A hundred." Blair scowled at Jim's scornful snort. "Okay, man. Eighty."

"That's more like it." Jim put an arm around the kid's shoulder and steered him along the street. "My truck's parked a couple of blocks this way."

He hadn't come prepared to accommodate a rent boy. Blair refused to go anywhere public, like a coffee bar, and Jim couldn't quite bring himself to face the knowing looks of a hotel clerk in the sleazier places that would rent a room to a man and a teenage hustler. With a great deal of misgiving, he took Blair back to his loft.

"This your place?" Blair was looking around approvingly, then swooped on the coffee table. "Oh man. This is great. What is it?"

Jim took the small wooden statue from the boy's hands. "It's a totem. Don't touch it, okay?"

"I wasn't going to steal it." Blair scowled and pouted. "It's South American isn't it? I love that stuff."

"Let's just get down to business." Jim pushed Blair in the direction of one of the armchairs.

Blair sank into a chair. "Geez. Don't I even get a coffee?"

Jim frowned and rubbed his earlobe, toying with his earring for a moment. "All right. How do you like it?"

"Milk and three sugars." And Blair was out of the chair again and over to the windows. "Great view."

"I like it." Jim started at the boy's slim back for a moment, then sighed. "Want something to eat with the coffee? I've got..." he opened the fridge door and was abruptly reminded that he'd meant to shop today. "I can order pizza."

"That'd be great. Can we have the Supremo?" Blair turned away from the window, his face lit up like a beacon. Then he darted over to the shelves and began to examine the various artefacts that Jim had brought back from Peru with him.

By the time the pizza delivery arrived, Jim had answered a seemingly endless series of questions about the artefacts, Peru, and the time he'd spent there with rapidly dwindling patience. Blessed silence fell as Blair devoured three slices of pizza without seeming to take a single breath. When there was a minute pause before his hand reached for the fourth slice, Jim figured he could start the negotiations.

"I'm not looking for anything fancy. Cocaine, heroin, E - my customers are pretty straight up."

Blair nodded, still chewing and obviously not seeing a need to actually speak yet.

Jim sighed sharply. "So can you point me to someone who can supply me with these things?"

"Sure." Blair reached for another slice and then hesitated. "Uh..."

"Go ahead. I'm not hungry." To underscore the point, Jim leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the arms. He waited while Blair, sitting cross-legged on the sofa now, munched halfway through this next slice before prompting him. "And?"

"Oh." Blair licked his fingers with unconscious sensuality and then looked up at him. "I can't just tell you. It doesn't work that way."

Jim was well aware of that fact, but he frowned impatiently anyway. "Then how does it work?"

"I tell the guy you want to meet. He checks you out. Then he tells me to set up a meet." Blair counted off the steps on his greasy, be-crumbed fingers. In spite of that, he looked all business. "You bring some money; I'll let you know how much. He brings a sample." Blair glanced up from his fingers to meet Jim's eyes. "You'd better not be a narc, or he'll kill both of us."

"I'm not a narc." Jim spoke the words with weary patience. "I just moved here. I'm setting up a client base. Your friend can check that out."

"Hey, he's not my friend." Blair raised his hands. "I'm warning you, this guy is seriously dangerous."

"Warning noted." Jim held out the four twenties he'd promised Blair. "Just give him the word, all right?"

"Okay. It's your life, man." The money disappeared as if by magic, but Blair remained, perfectly at home on the sofa.

"You want the rest of this to go?" Jim rose, indicating the two remaining slices of pizza.

"What's your hurry, man? You paid for the whole night." There was something different about Blair's voice now, something cold and businesslike about his tone that chilled Jim's blood.

"Oh no. No thanks, Chief, I don't play with kiddies." Jim spread his hands. "Thanks for the offer, but you can go now."

"I'm not a kid." There was a hard edge of annoyance in Blair's voice.

"But you're underage, right?" And as the boy hesitated, Jim shook his head. "That's all I need to know."

"I'm eighteen." Blair licked his lips nervously. "You can't tell anyone, okay? I mean, once you're legal, the regular johns don't think it's fun any more."

"I don't suppose you can prove that?" He didn't know why he was even arguing. It wasn't as though, aside from the issue of his age, Blair was his type. He preferred men who were more his own size. Men he didn't have to worry about hurting, if things got heavy. Not some boy who looked so fragile that a puff of wind could blow him over and break him.

Blair gave him a 'you've got to be kidding' look, which Jim thought he probably deserved. "I left my ID in my other wallet."

"Of course." They stared at each other in silence, while a pulse beating in Jim's belly grew stronger and stronger. Strangely, he was inclined to believe Blair. In spite of his size and looks, there was an odd maturity about him that made his claim a reasonable one. Jim nodded abruptly. "Okay."

Something changed in Blair's face. Was it disappointment Jim saw? But the boy rose smoothly from the sofa and headed for the stairs. Swallowing an unaccustomed nervousness, Jim followed him.

At the top of the stairs Blair paused to look around. "Nice."

"Thanks." Jim's voice was dust-dry. He stood awkwardly, one foot on the top step, the other on the floor of his bedroom.

Blair turned and looked him up and down. He grinned and took hold of Jim's shirt as he backed away. Two steps into the room, his hands got busy with the buttons and when they reached the bed, Blair simply continued moving backwards until he was kneeling on the bed. A quick shrug disposed of Jim's shirt and Blair's hands began to brush lightly over his bare chest.

It was disturbing to realise just how skilled those small hands were, but Jim was well and truly committed now. His desire for Blair was beyond all sense or reason. It was impossible even to drag his eyes away from Blair's sensual pout until those lips were pressed against his chest. Teasing, butterfly kisses rained over his skin, making it tingle with intense sensation. He laid his hands on Blair's thin shoulders, caressing him through the cheap, silky fabric.

"God... Where did you learn this?" He pushed Blair away a little, almost frightened by the intensity of his own reaction.

Blair stared at him pityingly. "Where do you think?"

It wasn't something that Jim wanted to dwell on, but the matter of fact tone in Blair's voice reassured him a little. Without waiting for Jim to respond, Blair bent his head again. Lips, tongue and then teeth teased at his nipples and Jim groaned helplessly. Surely it shouldn't feel this good. Nothing should feel this good...

Blair laughed suddenly, and his hands dropped to Jim's pants. "You want me Jim? Do you?"

"Yeah." Jim groaned again. "I want you."

As Blair unfastened his belt and tugged on his zipper, Jim pushed Blair's shirt off his shoulders. His skin felt smooth and hot and infinitely desirable. Jim's right hand slid down Blair's side and up between their bodies.

"What the hell?" Jim stared down at the small silver ring under his fingers.

Blair grinned happily. "Isn't it great? Guys go crazy over it, and it feels amazing." He guided Jim's hand, showing him how to tug gently on the nipple ring and twist it to provide stimulation. A flush spread across his thin chest. "You oughta get one."

"I don't think so, kid." Blair's other hand was doing quite incredible things inside his pants and Jim was distracted for a while, before it occurred to him that he should be contributing more to this encounter than he was. He reached for Blair's pants, his fingers sliding over the slick leather surface.

Blair pushed his hands away. "Not yet. Later, okay? I've got what we need."

"Always prepared, huh, Chief?" Jim knew he ought to be glad of that; he certainly didn't want to catch anything off the kid, but Blair's calm competency unnerved him.

"Absolutely." With one swift motion, Blair pushed Jim's boxers and pants down off his hips and grabbed him around the waist. They fell together to lie on the bed, skin against skin, until Blair wriggled out from under him and proceeded to remove the clothes tangled around Jim's knees. "Now..."

Blair reclined on his side, propping himself on one elbow to look down at Jim. His fingers touched lightly on one of Jim's scars and he pursed his lips thoughtfully, but didn't ask. With excruciating slowness, the touches moved down Jim's body until they reached his cock. Jim's hips bucked upwards and he was hard put to control himself as Blair began to stroke his cock in a slow, measured rhythm.

Almost deafened by the pounding of his heart, Jim could barely make out Blair's voice, asking him something. He had to force himself to open his eyes and concentrate on the sounds coming out of those sensual lips. When he realised what the boy was asking him, his arousal tumbled, ridiculously discomforted by the mere thought.

"No, I don't have a dildo. For God's sake..." his voice broke into a gurgle as Blair, completely unperturbed, took Jim's wilting erection into his mouth.

It only took a few moments of skilled sucking to restore Jim's cock to its full glory. Blair's eyes were closed, his face set in an expression of concentration as his lips slid along Jim's shaft. His fingers stroked up and down the inside of Jim's thighs and teased at his balls. For a moment Jim was tempted to release the thick ponytail of dark hair, just to feel its silken fall against his skin; but Blair had made it plain enough that he wanted to set the pace, and Jim was in no state to argue.

Blair seemed to be able to read him like a book. Just as Jim felt like he was starting to lose control the hot wet embrace around his cock was withdrawn. He moaned in disappointment and opened his eyes. Blair was watching him, critically assessing his state. A quick squeeze just below the head of his cock relieved the urge a little and Jim relaxed.

"Ready now?" Blair smiled teasingly and swung a leg over to kneel, straddling Jim's thighs. He brushed his hands down over the smooth skin of his chest and into the top of his leather pants. "Wanna see?"

"Ye..." Jim swallowed and tried again. "Yes. I want to see."

His fingers moved with infinite slowness, unfastening the button at the top and sliding the zipper down. Jim loosed a huge sigh. He hadn't drawn a breath since the performance started. Both of Blair's hands moved down into the front of his pants, stroking, squeezing, but hiding what he touched. Blair's head dropped back and he moaned, sensuality incarnate.

"Blair..." Jim clutched at the slim, leather clad thighs with both hands. "God, please..."

The body above him moved, gyrating against his thighs, arching and thrusting slowly. Jim took the hint and peeled the warm leather down off Blair's hips. There was, not to his surprise, nothing but bare skin beneath. Blair's hands fell away, allowing his cock to tumble free.

"Wanna touch me?" The blue eyes met Jim's while Blair casually fingered his cock. "Wanna fuck me, Jim?"

"Yes! Oh God yes..." He brushed aside Blair's hands and explored the velvet hardness of the shaft, the slick smoothness of his cockhead. It was as though he was feeling these things for the very first time. As though he'd never in his life touched another man, or even himself.

Blair's hips moved smoothly, thrusting into the circle of Jim's fingers. His eyelids drooped and the practised smile softened, showing what Jim thought might be real pleasure. "That's so good, man. Just a little tighter here... just... ohhh..."

He reached down and began to stroke himself in time with Blair's movements, and would have been happy to finish like that, but a hand pushed his away and Blair slid off the bed. He shucked off the pants and plunged his hands into a pocket, coming out with a foil wrapped condom. "Presto!"

Jim smiled reluctantly, unable to resist the triumphant expression on the face of this slender young satyr. "You going to take all night, Chief?"

"Why not? You've paid for it." Completely unselfconscious about the mercenary nature of this encounter, Blair lowered himself full length along Jim's body. "You're not getting bored, are you big guy?"

Jim cupped the firm buttocks in his hands and gently encouraged Blair to slide against him. "Not bored, no... you're very good at this."

Blair mumbled a distracted 'thanks' as he sucked briefly on Jim's nipple. He bit gently and Jim yelped. "Sensitive, huh? I'll be more careful. How do you want me?"

The question, spoken in a completely business-like tone, startled Jim for a second. "This feels just fine."

"Okay." Blair sat up and took Jim's cock in his hands. He grinned. "You just lay there. I'll do all the work."

There was almost an air of brisk practicality about Blair's actions as he opened the foil packet and rolled the condom down over Jim's cock. He watched Jim's face as he worked it smooth and positioned the reservoir carefully. Then he shifted forward, guiding Jim's cock into the opening of his body. The condom was one of the pre-lubricated variety, and Jim felt himself slide smoothly into place. Blair's face took on a pleased expression as he sank down, legs splayed, until he was sitting on Jim's groin.

Once again, the sensations were almost unbearably intense. Jim groaned and thrust up uncontrollably a couple of times, then forced himself to relax, panting with the effort it took. He was almost afraid to move. Afraid of hurting Blair with the violence of his need. Fortunately, Blair was as good as his word. He began to move, riding Jim's cock expertly, while stroking himself just enough to maintain his own erection. Jim clutched at Blair's thighs again and concentrated on breathing in defiance of his body's chaotic responses.

Sensation piled upon sensation, frighteningly intense, until Jim felt nothing except the pressure, building... building... and finally finding release. He cried out, he thought, but was aware of nothing but the feel of his cock, enclosed by a hot, pulsing channel. And then even that was gone.

Jim woke to darkness and the sense of being alone in his bed. It took a couple of deep breaths before he remembered why there was something wrong about that. The kid. Blair. He'd pretty much announced his intention to stay the whole night, yet he was gone. Jim swore and reached for his bedside light.

Even that was enough to hurt his eyes, so Jim headed downstairs without bothering to turn on any others. There was a full moon and enough light coming in the windows to allow him to check the downstairs room, and it didn't look like anything was missing. It was only then that he noticed the long pale blur on the couch.

He knelt by the sofa and had a good look at the boy curled up there. Blair had loosened his hair and it tumbled around his face, increasing the fey effect of the moonlight. He looked more like some creature of mythology than a human boy. Jim's eyes travelled the length of Blair's body, noting the dark brush of hair at his groin and the paler flesh of his cock. Lower, twin shadows marred the slender thighs. Jim laid his hand gently over one of them. The marks corresponded almost exactly to the shape of his hand and Jim felt a sick sense of shame.

The skin he'd touched had been noticeably chilled; Jim stood and looked down at his sleeping guest. There was a soft throw rug on the back of the sofa and he laid it carefully over Blair. The boy moved and an arm, tucked under his body until now, fell free, dangling over the edge of the sofa. Jim lifted it carefully and frowned at the unevenness he felt there. He turned it so that the moonlight reflected of the pale underside of Blair's arm. The track marks were unmistakable.

He didn't know why, with his knowledge of Blair's situation, the discovery that he was also an addict should feel like such a betrayal. It just did. Common-sense told him that an addict was untrustworthy, that Blair would sell his soul for a fix, if need be, but it was more than that. The careful walls of self-sufficiency Jim had erected around himself had crumbled under the blue-eyed assault of a beautiful young hustler, and it scared the hell out of him.

Feeling like he was a burglar in his own home, Jim crept back to his bed and tried to sleep, without a lot of success. As the sky finally lightened to full day, Jim heard Blair moving around downstairs, then the click of the door closing. Only then did he dare go down to see if there was anything missing. There wasn't.

"Twenty dollars? You've got to be kidding." He was tall, blond and very sure of his own superiority. "I'll give you ten."

Blair shrugged, his face implacable. Even if they bargained it down, johns who haggled over the price invariably wanted more than they'd paid for. "That's the price."

"It's outrageous." Now he was starting to get angry.

"It's about a tenth of what you paid for your shoes." Blair offered the observation almost indifferently. He wasn't going to give anyone a blow job for less than twenty dollars, and especially not someone wearing an Armani suit.

The young man sneered. "My shoes will last a lot longer than anything I'll get from you."

Blair smiled slowly, letting his hips fall into a stance that emphasised the way the leather cupped his balls. "And they'll never make you feel the way I can." The almost too perfect features slackened a little, and Blair pressed his advantage. "Or you can pay Jimmy over there a ten and he'll jerk you off."

The look of distaste that crossed the john's face was almost worth a free blow job, but Blair had the feeling he might just get that twenty. Normally he wouldn't bother arguing, but tonight had been slow, and it wasn't likely that anything better would come along. He was so intent on his prey that when a hand came down heavily on his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"So here you are. Your Mom's worried sick." The voice was familiar. Jim. The big john who wanted to meet a supplier.

With practised ease, Blair dropped his shoulder and twisted free. At least that was the idea, but the hand remained firmly in place. "Let go of me, man."

"No way, kiddo. You're coming home with me." Jim stared at Tall Blond and Rich in a way that was friendly, yet subtly menacing. "Jim Williamson. Pleased to meet you. Blair's my nephew."

"I am not!" But, to Blair's fury, nobody was listening. He struggled futilely as the john made a hasty retreat. "Oh, man, what did you do that for? I had him, man."

"He's no loss, believe me." Jim looked down at Blair, releasing his grip at last. "I've been waiting to hear from you for three days."

"I haven't had word yet." Blair rubbed his shoulder and scowled resentfully. "When I do I'll tell you."

The taller man scowled back. "Make sure you do." He turned and started walking away.

Blair hurried to catch him. "Hey, you scared off my john, and it's getting late. The least you can do is pay me what I would have got from him."

"It is, is it?" Jim looked as though he might be considering it. "How much?"

All right! Blair put on his blandest expression. "Fifty dollars."

"Fifty? He was going to pay you fifty dollars?" Jim smiled. And started walking again. "Life's tough, Chief."

"Fucker!" Blair yelled it after him. He retired to his spot, mad at the john for allowing himself to be scared off, mad at Jim for not caring, most of all mad at himself for the way his cock had leapt when he'd thought Jim was going to pay for another go-round.

He paced up and down, ignoring the boys, ignoring the few passing men. He needed that money, dammit. His rent was past due and he'd already spent all of Jim's money. He'd need another hit soon, too.

But half an hour later things took a turn for the better. A nervous looking Japanese, probably a tourist, came towards Blair after watching him for a few minutes. Blair smiled enticingly.

"How much?" The man's voice was hesitant and his English heavily accented.

Blair's smile widened. "Depends what you want." He began a recitation of his price list, deliberately speaking quickly. '...and eighty dollars for the night."

Mr Japan looked understandably confused. "Uh... 'scuse me... the whole night? How much?"

"Oh, the whole night?" Blair mentally weighed up his chances. "The whole night costs one twenty. And you pay for the hotel."

His mark smiled and nodded. "Okay." He held out a handful of crumpled notes. "You take how much."

Blair carefully extracted eight of the twenty-dollar bills and tucked them into his pocket. It was going to be a good night after all.

Waiting was something that didn't come naturally to Jim Ellison. He could do it, and do it better than most hunters stalking their prey, but he didn't like it. It didn't help that, working undercover, he couldn't be seen anywhere where he might be recognised. Staying in the loft as much as possible seemed the best solution to that, but it was like being in prison.

A knock on his door one afternoon sent Jim lunging for the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"Hey man." It was Blair, looking almost edible in jeans and a light sweater. "I got the call. Thought you'd want to know ASAP."

"So?" Jim's growl wiped the smile off the boy's face.

"You don't wanna know? Fine." Blair turned away, stopping only when Jim caught his arm.

"Look, I'm sorry. Come in." Jim led the way to the couch. "Want coffee? Or I've got coke. The wet kind."

"Oh, that's funny man." Blair dropped into the chair and curled one leg underneath him. "I'll have coke. Wouldn't want to disappoint you."

He tossed a can to the boy and took one for himself. "So, what's the story?"

"You know the warehouse on the corner of Edwards and 46th?"

"No. But I can find it." Jim motioned with the hand holding his coke. "Go on."

Blair took a long swallow from his can. "You meet there tonight. Seven o'clock. With the money. You go alone."

"Seven o'clock tonight?" Jim frowned. This wasn't good. "It doesn't give me much time."

"That's the idea." Blair smiled, patently unconcerned by his discomfort. "Diego doesn't know you. He's gonna keep you on a short leash for a while."

"Diego who? You haven't even told me his name yet." But Jim had an idea, and if he was right, this could be a major bust. "I only want to deal with the guy at the top. Will he be there?"

"Diego probably will." Blair shrugged. "But he's not the boss."

Yes! It looked like he'd snared an even bigger fish than he'd had any right to hope for. But Jim needed to put on a show for his audience. "Then I want to meet the boss."

Blair laughed. "Are you kidding? Diego's boss isn't interested in small time dealers."

"Who said I was small time?" Jim scowled. "I've got customers spread halfway down the West Coast, and up into Canada. I wouldn't even bother buying locally, if another supplier hadn't got busted last month in Portland."

"Whatever." Blair shrugged. "You can sort that out with Diego at the meet."

"No." Jim rose and took the can out of the kid's hand. "You tell the boss man that I meet him. Today."

"I can't do that, man. He doesn't talk to me. I just send the messages to Diego, I don't know the guy, okay?" Blair cocked his head, looking at Jim, checking out his reaction. "Best I can do is pass it on. Maybe it'll get to Diego in time, maybe it won't."

"Then what are you waiting for? Get moving." Jim went to the door and held it open, the half full can in his other hand held out as bait.

"Geez, I don't know why I'm doing this for you." Blair grumbled as he got to his feet and walked over to him. "You've got an attitude, man."

Jim just smiled as the boy walked past him, grabbing the can out of his hand.

"I don't like it Jim." Captain Benjamin Innes' voice was a deep rumble down the phone line. "You'd better get in here fast and have the wire fitted."

"Sir, that's not a good idea." Jim glanced out the window at the gathering darkness and suppressed a nervous shiver. "They're suspicious. The first thing they'll do is check for a wire. The backup will be there. That'll have to be enough."

Innes was silent for a moment. "All right. Don't take any chances, Jim. This is just to establish you as a dealer. Take it easy."

"I will, Sir." Jim hung up the phone and checked his gun once again. At least it wouldn't be out of character for him to carry one, and there'd be half a dozen men within half a block of the meeting place. He hoped it would be enough.

At six thirty, he went downstairs to his truck and drove to the warehouse. He drove past slowly, looking for potential dangers and escape routes, then turned back and parked. It was one minute before seven o'clock when he walked up to the main door of the warehouse and tapped gently. The door opened silently and Jim stepped inside.

"You're a punctual man. That's good, Mr Williamson." A light flared fleetingly in the shadowy space and then muted to a reddish glow. The brief illumination had shown Jim four men. The speaker, barely visible now, drew on his cigarette again, revealing a sharp, clever looking face. Jim recognised him as Diego Gonzales, one of Domingo de Silva's top men. "You have the money?"

"I'd like to know who I'm dealing with first." Jim folded both hands over the handle of his briefcase. "It's only polite."

A quiet chuckle acknowledged the irony in his voice. "I am simply a messenger."

"For who? Domingo de Silva?" Jim took a step towards Gonzales; and stopped when the other men shifted dangerously.

"So you know of Mr de Silva?" There was an edge to the smooth voice. "You who've only recently arrived in Cascade?"

"I make it a point to know who my potential allies are." Jim lifted the briefcase a little. "We have interests in common. It could be a lucrative association. I want to meet him."

"Perhaps he will meet you one day. If you prove to be all you say you are." Gonzales signalled to one of his companions. "Here is the merchandise. I take it you have the money."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't." Jim exchanged his case for the other. Inside were ten plastic bags, some containing white powder, and some full of tablets. "That's not a lot for fifteen thousand."

"But top quality. I'm sure your customers will agree." The tone of Gonzales' voice was a dismissal.

Jim hesitated. "This won't last long. How do I contact you when I want more?"

"The boy will tell me." A dark eyebrow rose smoothly as Jim grimaced. "You don't like him?"

"He's a user. I'd prefer someone more reliable." Jim chose his words carefully. He didn't want Blair's death on his conscience.

"The boy is reliable enough. He's too intelligent not to know what happens to those who... disappoint Mr de Silva."

It was clear there was no negotiating on this point. Jim swallowed his disappointment; he'd hoped to get a contact within the organisation at the very least. And he'd rather not have to deal with Blair again. His reaction to the boy was more than a little disturbing to him. He nodded curtly "I'll be in touch."

The drugs were passed to a police contact next morning, after Jim had phoned in his report. It would be at least another week before he could realistically hope to request another meeting. De Silva was known to be reclusive, paranoid and extremely dangerous, and the department was determined to move with more than usual care on this case. Which left Jim with little to do for the next few days.

He went to visit his father for an awkward half-hour, and travelled out of Cascade a couple of times to maintain the fiction of a drug dealer who had widespread contacts. He even crossed into Canada by ferry for half a day. Then he had little to do but wait.

Six days after making the acquaintance of de Silva's henchmen, Jim was back in Blair's stalking grounds, ready to arrange another meeting. His heart was pounding as he walked towards the slender, already familiar figure.

"Hey, Jim." Blair's greeting was quiet and his eyes were dull.

Pushing his nervousness aside, Jim spoke abruptly. "I need to meet up with your friends again. Can you arrange it?"

"Sure. It'll cost you." His eyes lightened a little. "Eighty bucks."

"Nuh uh. This is different. I'll give you twenty." Jim felt a rush of anger. The kid was out of it; he'd been right not to trust him. "Take it or leave it."

Blair's face fell. "Come on... oh geez! I need a fix, man."

"And I'm not paying for it." He held out the twenty and Blair took it. "Tell him I want more this time. And I want to meet..." he lowered his voice. "You know who I want to meet."

Blair nodded absently. "I'll tell him."

He barely protested when Jim grabbed a handful of his shirtfront. "Tell him I meet the top man or I find another supplier. I don't trust men I don't see. Okay?"

"All right. Chill out man." A little of the boy he'd been nearly two weeks ago shone through Blair's apathy for a moment. "I'll tell him."

Blair didn't come this time. Jim got a phone call two days later instructing him to go to a meeting in the same warehouse, and giving him only five hours warning.

"This is it, Captain. I've got a feeling about it." His whole body was tingling with the presentiment of action, the certainty of a trap about to be sprung. He'd known that feeling when he'd been in the jungles of Peru, and it had never failed him.

"A feeling." Innes sounded amused, but Jim knew that at least half of police work was instinct and gut feeling, and so did Innes. "This time you're wearing a wire."

"Absolutely, Sir. Is the money ready?" He wouldn't have much time to prepare. "Where do I pick it up?"

"It's being couriered to you. Special Delivery." Innes laughed outright. "Congratulations, Ellison, you've just bought a new microwave."

Special Delivery meant another cop. It was a risk. The cop might be recognised, if the loft was being watched, but it was the only way to get the money to him on time. "I've been wanting a new one, Sir."

"Be careful, son." Abruptly the conversation veered back into seriousness. "De Silva's a mad bastard. Expect anything."

"I will, Sir." Already Jim's mind was busy, weighing and sifting through strategies and possibilities, discarding some and reserving others for later consideration.

When he arrived at the warehouse, Jim had already picked out several of the team who would be backing him up on this operation. Others would be well hidden, but close enough, he hoped, to help if things went badly. Though if things went badly, he might not be around to appreciate that fact.

The feeling inside the warehouse was different. There was a kind of electricity in the air that reminded Jim of the presence of a large and extremely dangerous predator. He nodded respectfully at an older man with greying temples. "Mr de Silva? It's an honour to meet you."

A faint incline of the head implied that it was indeed an honour. For Jim. "You are Mr Williamson, who has sold fifteen thousand dollars worth of merchandise in less than a week?"

Jim smiled self-deprecatingly. "I have a lot of customers."

"So soon after arriving in Cascade?"

"I was based in Portland, but it was getting difficult to find a reliable source. I decided to move to Cascade." Jim inserted a note of admiration into his voice. "I was hoping to meet up with you. I've heard a lot of good things about your operation here. I think we can help each other. I have contacts in every major city on the West Coast, but supplying them adequately has always been a problem."

"Hmphf." De Silva waved Gonzales forward. "I'll consider your usefulness to me when I know you better. In the meantime, Diego has another consignment for you."

They exchanged the briefcases in silence. When Jim expressed his satisfaction, de Silva nodded. "This should last you at least a month. The boy will tell Diego when you want more."

"I'll look forward to meeting you again, Sir." Jim nodded first to de Silva and then Gonzales, ignoring the other men completely. "It's a pleasure doing business with you."

That was the signal for the rest of his team to swoop in. Within moments the warehouse was swarming with Vice Squad members. Jim was handcuffed along with the others, though he doubted it fooled de Silva. The last he saw of the older man was a livid face staring haughtily out of a police car window as it was driven away.

The fallout from the bust lasted well into the early hours of the morning, and, when Jim finally dragged himself back to the loft, he fell into bed and slept till mid morning. He woke with a nagging sense of something important having been left undone, but it wasn't until he was halfway through his shower that it struck him. Blair.

The kid had told him that de Silva was dangerous, that they could both be killed dealing with him, and Jim hadn't even warned Blair to lie low for a while. He finished his shower as rapidly as possible and dressed hurriedly.

There was no sign of Blair, or any of the other boys at their usual haunt. Jim glanced at his watch. Eleven o'clock. It should have occurred to him that Blair and his friends were unlikely to be out and about before noon. He went down to the station and finished off the last few bits of paperwork, accepted the congratulations of his colleagues, and then headed back to find Blair. Some of the other boys were hanging around, but not Blair.

If anything happened to the kid, it would all be his fault. He should have come down here last night straight after the bust to warn him. And the reason he hadn't was fear. He was afraid of the way Blair made him feel when they were together. Afraid of the attraction he felt for a kid who might, or might not be of legal age. Who, if he wanted to, could ruin Jim's new career simply by going into a Police Station and telling the desk sergeant that Detective Jim Ellison had had sex with him. It certainly wouldn't be difficult, now, for Blair to find out who he really was.

Finally, after about an hour of waiting, Jim saw someone who might be able to help. He got out of the truck and went over to the boy.

"Jimmy, where's Blair?" His voice came out more sharply than he'd intended and Jimmy looked up at him doubtfully. He forced himself to speak more calmly. "It's okay, I'm only trying to help him. Do you know where he is?"

"He's stayin' away for a while." Jimmy shrugged. "Some john beat him up and he can't work till the bruises go."

The matter of fact tone in Jimmy's voice was somehow more shocking than the news that Blair had come to grief. His ready acceptance of the dangers of his life spoke volumes for what the boy had witnessed and experienced on these streets. The only surprise was that Blair had something resembling a home he could hide out in. Jim crouched in front of the boy so their faces were on the same level. "Where does he live, Jimmy?"

"I dunno..." The boy's perpetual sniff was more apparent than ever. "He don't like the johns knowing where he lives."

"I'm not a john." The boy looked unconvinced, so Jim held up a twenty. "Will this help you make up your mind?"

His sarcasm was lost on Jimmy. "He got kicked out of his place, couldn't pay the rent. There's this old building on Montgomery, usedta be a hotel? Some of the guys stay there when they're broke. I figure he'll be there."

"Thanks Jimmy. You did the right thing." Jim laid a hand on the boy's shoulder for a moment before heading back to his truck.

He knew the building Jimmy referred to. It had been abandoned for years after a planned restoration had fallen through, and the owners of neighbouring buildings kept complaining of squatters causing problems. It was also five storeys high, with maybe a hundred rooms.

Even in the middle of the day the inside of the hotel was dark and dank. There was no electricity and probably no water either. Still, to a kid like Blair it offered a safe place to sleep, and shelter from the weather. Luckily, there were a few people moving around, and he questioned them, describing Blair. Most just shrugged and ignored him.

"Yeah, I know him." A gap-tooth old black man smiled warily. "He helped me one time when I was sick."

Jim breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you know where he is? He might be hurt."

"Sure. C'mon, I'll show you. It's right by my room." The old man shuffled away at quite surprising speed and Jim followed closely behind. "I hope he's all right. Nice kid."

"Yeah."

They stopped outside a door exactly like all the others in the hallway and the man nodded at Jim. "That's it."

"Thanks." He knocked on the door. "Blair? Open up, it's Jim."

There was no sound from inside. Jim looked at the old man, who shrugged. The doorknob turned easily under his hand, but when he pushed the door opened no more than an inch before the security chain stopped it. Immediately, the smell of stale urine and blood hit him. "Blair? Are you okay?"

He heard a whimpering sound, and that was all he needed. The latch and chain were no match for the full weight of his body when it slammed into them. Jim stumbled into the bare, dingy room, almost missing the dark huddle in a corner, away from the broken windows.

"Blair?" He knelt beside the makeshift bed, a thin lumpy looking mattress on the floor with a nest of blankets containing one shivering boy. He pulled one corner of the blanket back to reveal a sweaty tangle of hair and a glimpse of pale skin. The smell of urine was almost overpowered, at this distance, by the rank sweat that covered Blair's body.

When Jim touched him, Blair flinched and moaned, but his eyes remained firmly closed. "Blair, talk to me."

He pulled the blankets halfway down Blair's body and stared in growing anger at what had been done to the boy. His thin frame was mottled with bruises and in spite of the heat coming off him in waves Blair was shivering uncontrollably. Jim rolled him gently onto his back and brushed the long strands of hair away from his flushed face. Most of his left cheek was covered in a dark, swollen bruise and traces of blood remained around his mouth and nose.

"Who did this? One of de Silva's men?" Jim's voice was harsh with anger.

Blair shook his head restlessly, but Jim wasn't sure whether it was in answer to his question or not. "Please..." he shuddered and moaned softly. His voice was hoarse. "I need... oh God..."

With a sick feeling in his stomach, Jim recognised what he should have seen from the start. Blair was well into the early stages of withdrawal. Too hurt to work the streets, or even to go out and find his dealer, Blair would have had to go through this completely alone if Jim hadn't found him.

"It's okay, Blair. I'm going to help you." Wrapping the blankets around him again, Jim lifted the boy easily and carried him to the door.

It had been a toss up whether Jim took Blair to a hospital, or back to the loft. In the end the loft won out simply because he wasn't sure how secure Blair would be in a public ward - if the hospital would even agree to take him without insurance.

He deposited the grimy bundle on his sofa and went to fill a large bowl with soapy water. Armed with that, a washcloth, and towels, Jim returned to the couch. The hectic flush had disappeared leaving Blair's face sallow, and the shivering had increased. For the next couple of days, it was only going to get worse. Jim steeled himself with that knowledge and began to wash the boy.

Before very long it became evident to Jim that Blair had been raped as well as beaten. He had to stop then, swearing violently under his breath, until he became aware that Blair's eyes were open and the boy was watching him.

"Who was it Blair?" Jim tossed the washcloth into the bowl and began to pat the pale skin dry.

Blair shrugged sketchily. "Just a john. I don't ask their names." His voice was weak and his eyelids were drooping already. "Not the first time..."

"Chief, listen to me." Jim took hold of both his hands, squeezing them a little to draw the boy's attention. "Did he use a condom?"

A soundless laugh shook Blair's body. "Hell, yeah. He was terrified of catching something off me."

"Are you HIV positive?" It was a question that Jim hadn't wanted to ask, but Blair was a hustler and a drug user. He had to know now. It could make all the difference to Blair's chances of surviving withdrawal, and he had no intention of giving the boy more heroin, even if he had it to give.

Blair rolled his head from side to side. It was quite clearly a negative, and Jim swallowed heavily. "I've always been careful. Don't share my needles... always use condoms."

"Good." Jim slid Blair's threadbare blankets out from under him and covered him with the throw rug. "You rest for a while. There's some things I need to get."

He came back with a small arsenal of medical supplies, as well as a blow up mattress and a rubber sheet. It was going to be an unpleasant couple of days ahead, and Jim saw no reason why his bed should be made to suffer with them. In ten minutes Blair was ensconced in a makeshift bed with clean sheets and blankets from Jim's linen closet; a bucket stood handily by his head.

"What are you doing, man?" Blair stared at Jim groggily. "Didn't you get me some stuff?"

"I got you lots of stuff, kiddo, but I'm not supplying you with H." Jim looked down at him from his position on the couch. "It's okay. I'll help you through this."

"Okay?" Blair's choked voice was full of raw incredulity. "It's not okay! I need a fix. Please, man!"

Jim simply shook his head. There was no point in getting into an argument with an addict in the throes of withdrawal.

It wasn't long before withdrawal had well and truly set in. Jim held Blair's thin body as he retched and shook convulsively. As the hours blurred together, Jim learned to close his ears to Blair's screams as hallucinations haunted him, both waking and sleeping. Pleas for drugs were more easily ignored. He was determined that Blair would come out of this clean, and drug free. What he did after that was up to him.

Perhaps the worst part was the stench of sweat, urine and faeces. It was almost impossible to keep Blair clean. He soiled himself and the bedding over and over, and each time Jim would patiently strip the bedding away and wash Blair down before covering him again with clean sheets. He no longer knew the time of day, or even what day it was. Nothing existed except for the mattress on the floor and the pain wracked body that lay on it.

It was light, though whether morning or evening, Jim wasn't sure, when Blair finally seemed to be over the worst of it. He no longer soiled himself, if only because there was nothing left inside him to come out. But if the throes of withdrawal were weakening, so was Blair, and it was bringing him no relief that the convulsions and cramps were noticeably less violent.

After another session of dry retching, in which it seemed that his body was trying to turn itself inside out, Jim met Blair's despairing eyes and tried to smile encouragingly. "It's almost over, Chief. We can do it."

"We..." Blair struggled weakly in his arms. "You bastard. You're trying to kill me."

It wasn't the first time Blair had accused him of that. Jim sighed. "It's going to be okay."

"Please... I can't..." a wretched sob escaped and tears formed in the bloodshot blue eyes. "Please... you've got the stuff, man. Give me some of it. Oh God, it hurts..." As he had so often in the endless hours of this vigil, Jim watched helplessly as Blair doubled over with cramps, then shook with desolate sobs.

"I know." He wiped the tears and snot away while Blair lay apathetically still, too exhausted even to cry. "It's going to get better."

"No, it isn't." Blair closed his eyes and swallowed. His lips were dry, and Jim bent to rub a little salve over them. Only a little, because almost anything could set off another bout of retching.

Jim studied the forlorn face with a sense of unaccustomed helplessness. There was no comforting the boy, and the urge to do so was a constant nagging ache in his chest. Finally he lifted Blair, blankets and all, into his arms and settled on the couch with the dark head resting against his shoulder.

Not all of Jim's careful washing could entirely disperse the odour of sickness. As close as they were now, it took all his control not to react to the smell. His stomach must be just about as empty as Blair's by now, but it stirred queasily and Jim concentrated all his attention on the feel of the fragile body against his own, until he imagined he could feel the rush of blood through the boy's veins. He shook his head, smiling a little. He must be getting ropy with lack of sleep and food.

A sudden sharp movement and a frightened cry brought Jim back to full awareness. He didn't remember falling asleep, and certainly didn't feel refreshed, but that's what he must have done, because the room was suddenly much darker. Blair moved again in his arms, and Jim realised that they were aching, and his legs were numb from Blair's weight.

Biting back a groan, Jim stood, then lowered Blair to the couch. He was sleeping, restless but obviously over the withdrawal. If he'd had any energy Jim would have cheered. He staggered to the bathroom, first to attend to his own needs, then to draw one more bowl of water to wash Blair with. Then he carried the still sleeping boy upstairs and put him into bed.

He could have easily fallen into bed too, but there was just one more thing that Jim had promised himself. A reward for surviving this ordeal - a long, hot shower. Then, at last, he joined Blair in his bed.

It was light again. For a moment Jim wasn't sure why that felt so wrong, then he realised that he must have slept the clock round. He yawned, considered stretching, and decided not moving at all was a better option. But there was a warm body beside him that demanded Jim's attention, and eventually he gave in.

Blair's face was almost completely obscured by the riotous tangle of hair, but he was obviously deeply asleep. His arm was draped across Jim's chest and he was completely limp. Jim turned, and extricated his left arm from between their bodies so he could draw the boy against his side. Blair's only response was to snuggle still closer. Jim smiled, closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift into a light doze.

He came fully alert again when Blair began to rouse. Jim released him and moved away an inch or two as Blair rolled onto his back with a little moan. He looked terrible. The bruising on his face had transmuted to a mixture of purple and yellow that made Jim wince in sympathy at the sight, and where it wasn't bruised, Blair's face was a sickly yellowish white. His cheeks were deeply sunken and dark shadows circled equally sunken eyes. More worryingly, he looked badly dehydrated, in spite of Jim's efforts to get fluids into him over the last two days.

Jim slipped out of the bed, shrugged on his robe, and went downstairs to the kitchen. It only took a moment to mix up a simple rehydration formula of water with a little sugar and a pinch of salt. He carried a jug of it back up to his bedroom and poured some into a glass.

"Blair." He touched Blair's thin shoulder gently. "Come on. You need this,"

"Uhhnnn..." Blair's eyes opened to mere slits. "Wha'?"

Jim slid his arm under Blair's shoulders, lifting him a little. "Drink this." He held the glass to Blair's lips.

After a couple of sips Blair's nose wrinkled and he turned his head away. "Man, that's awful."

"It's not that bad." Jim held the glass up again. "You're dehydrated. You need to drink."

Blair managed to empty about half the glass before he turned his head away again. This time Jim allowed it, putting the glass back on the nightstand. As he slid back into the warmth of the bed, Blair's dazed eyes turned towards him. "What happened to me? I feel like..."

Jim waited, but Blair was obviously unable to come up with anything unpleasant enough to compare with how he must be feeling right now. "Like you've been through heroin withdrawal?"

"I've..." Blair's eyes widened in shock. "No! You didn't... oh God, you didn't..."

It wasn't exactly the reaction he'd been expecting. Jim smiled soothingly. "Take it easy Chief. You were already in withdrawal when I found you."

"You could have stopped it!" Blair grabbed at his arm as desperately as he had at any time during his illness. "Why didn't give me something? Oh God..."

"Don't overwhelm me with thanks. I didn't have anything to give you, and even if I had, you're better off without it." Jim's voice turned sour. He should have known better than to expect any thanks from an addict. "You were right the first time we met. I am a narc."

"Oh fuck..."Blair shrank away from him. "Diego's going to kill me."

"He's got other things on his mind right now." Jim smiled grimly. "I busted him two nights ago."

"Oh God, ohgodohgod..." Blair curled into a ball; his voice was shaking pathetically. "You think that's gonna make a difference?" When he looked up there were frightened tears gathering in his eyes.

Jim couldn't help but be moved by his obvious terror. "Blair, I'll take care of you."

"No." Blair's head shook from side to side. "No, man, nobody takes care of me. Nobody but me." His voice broke on a gasp. "Oh God... how am I going to do it? The smack was what made it work, man. Without that..."

Jim pulled the sobbing boy into his arms. "You're not going back on the street. I promise you, Blair. I'll help you."

But nothing he could say would convince Blair. All Jim could do was to hold him while he cried himself into an exhausted sleep.

Waking usually wasn't this difficult, or this painful. Blair stirred groggily and immediately regretted it. His head was pounding and his body ached, and he had an awful feeling that neither of these were the worst things he'd have to face once he was fully awake. On the positive side, it felt good to be warmly enclosed in a comfortable bed.

It was the bed that gave it away. Blair moaned softly as a flood of unpleasant memories reminded him of exactly why he was in that comfortable bed. For a moment his courage failed him at the thought of what lay ahead. With Diego's henchmen out to get him, and no heroin to soften the harsh realities of life on the street, he'd never make it. Jim's offer of help meant nothing. It wouldn't be the first time a john had said such a thing and Blair had long ago learnt to trust nobody but himself. Of course, he could always find more heroin. So that just left the matter of Diego. Blair sighed. Maybe he should leave Cascade.

Somehow, he'd survive, he told himself. All he had to do was to make sure Jim didn't kick him out before he got a bit stronger. That shouldn't be hard. It was amazing what a john would do for a few expert blow jobs. He could do it. He had to.

A moment later, seated on the edge of the bed, with his head swimming, Blair's continued survival didn't seem nearly so likely, or even desirable.

"Blair? Are you awake?"

Blair put his feet firmly on the ground and pushed himself upright. A single step forward brought him to the stairway and the assistance of the stair rail. Taking one step at a time, Blair got to floor level with a vague sense of accomplishment, which vanished abruptly the moment he stepped away from the stairs. He managed two shaky steps and froze, unable to continue for the moment, as Jim turned to face him.

"Blair, you're naked." Jim's tone made it clear that this was a problem.

He shrugged. It wasn't his problem. "Couldn't find my clothes."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that." Jim's eyes went past him, then round the room, as if searching for inspiration. "Feel up to having a shower? Bathroom's through there."

A shower sounded... wonderful. Blair perked up a little. "Yeah. Can I have a towel?"

"Sure. There's a stack of them in there. Help yourself."

The thought of a hot shower was enough to strengthen Blair's rubbery knees and get him moving again. Slowly, maybe, but he made it as far as the bathroom.

There were a good half dozen towels, thick and fluffy and more luxurious than anything Blair had ever encountered. There was shampoo and soap, and shower gel too. Blair grinned. "All right!"

Blair emerged from the bathroom almost half an hour later looking flushed and damp, but just as naked as when he went in. Modesty obviously wasn't one of his strong points. Jim wondered why that should come as a surprise to him.

As he went to support the unsteady figure, Jim caught sight of a steamed up bathroom, and a floor strewn with towels. He forced himself to ignore it. "Let me help you." Jim's arm went around Blair's shoulders as he supported him as far as the couch. "Put those on."

Blair stared down at the T-shirt and sweatpants on the couch. "They're yours? Man, they're gonna be way too big for me."

"They'll do for now." Jim headed back to the kitchen as Blair sat on the couch and lifted the sweatpants dubiously. "I've got some soup ready."

"Thanks."

Blair sounded less than enthusiastic, and Jim grinned. He poured the soup into a large mug and carried it over to Blair. "Here you go..." his voice trailed off as he tried not to laugh. The T-shirt came down almost to Blair's knees, and the sweatpants were roughly the size of baggy clown pants on Blair's smaller frame. Blair's sulky pout indicated that he knew very well how ridiculous he looked.

"Here." Jim handed Blair the mug and covered his legs with the throw from the back of the couch. "Drink up. It'll do you some good."

"Chicken?" Blair sniffed and then sipped cautiously. He smiled. "It's good."

"Of course it is. I got it out of a can." Jim perched on the edge of the couch, watching as Blair drank a little more eagerly. "We need to talk, Blair."

"Yeah?" Blair seemed completely uninterested. He put the mug down, only half-empty. "I can't drink any more."

"You can have some more later." Now that the time had arrived, Jim was lost for a way to start this conversation. "I can help you, Blair, if you'll let me."

A wary look replaced the lack of interest on Blair's face, but he didn't speak.

"But we have to get a few things straight." Jim hesitated, then decided the best thing to do was just plunge right in. "Like names, for a start. Mine's Jim Ellison. I'm a detective with the Vice Squad. Now, how about you tell me your name?"

Blair scowled. "Blair. I told you."

"Blair what?" Jim smiled encouragingly. "If I'm going to help, I need to know some things."

"Why should you help me?" Blair stared up at him defiantly.

He'd been prepared for that. Somehow he didn't think Blair would accept the truth, which was that he didn't really know why himself. "I figure I owe you. For getting you involved in a bust."

Blair looked unconvinced but shrugged. "Blair Sandburg."

"How old are you, Blair?" Jim all but held his breath. He'd never been entirely convinced that Blair was over age. "And what's your date of birth?"

"I'm eighteen. Like I said." Blair's voice became sulky. "And it's March 20th 1974."

So he really was eighteen. Barely. Jim sighed with relief. "Where were you born?"

Blair looked puzzled. "I don't know. My mom moved around a lot. Why?"

"Well, if you're going back to school, you'll need a birth certificate. What about your parent's names?" Jim tried not to sound too official, but judging by Blair's expression he wasn't succeeding very well.

"Naomi's my mom. I don't know who my dad was." Blair stared at him suspiciously. "If you think you're gonna find Naomi and make her take me back, you won't be able to. She never stays in one place very long."

"Blair, if you're eighteen, we can't make her take you." That didn't come out right. Jim smiled at him and tried again. "You're a bright kid, Blair. If you could finish high school, maybe do a course at a community college, you'd have a future ahead of you. One that didn't include working as a hustler."

"That costs money, man." Blair looked up at him sceptically. "You gonna pay for it?"

"Not the whole amount." He'd seriously considered it, and decided, against all his instincts, that he wouldn't commit himself for what could be years of support. "I'll help. You should be able to get some kind of assistance. I'll look into it for you."

"Sure." Blair hunched his shoulders dejectedly. "Just give me my clothes, man."

"Uh... Blair, I left them in your room. I'll go over tomorrow and..."

"You left them?" Blair's horrified voice cut across Jim's. "Oh man..." Before Jim's eyes the boy seemed to shrivel. He rolled on his side facing the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Blair, I'll get them tomorrow."

"Don't bother." Blair's voice was thick with tears. "There won't be anything left by now. They'll have taken everything. My clothes. Pictures. Everything." His voice broke on a quiet sob.

Instinctively, Jim reached for him and Blair was too demoralised to resist. He held the frail body in his arms as Blair shook with despair. He remembered the pictures, torn out of magazines, that had been the only bright spots in that damp and dingy room. It wasn't much, but everything that Blair had owned had been in there, and now he'd lost it all.

"I'm sorry, kid. I'll replace your things, I promise." Jim rubbed the thin back soothingly, feeling the all too prominent bones beneath his hands. "And you can stay with me as long as you need to."

His offer had no apparent effect on Blair, and eventually Jim picked him up and carried him back upstairs to bed. He stayed, sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking Blair's freshly shampooed curls until he fell asleep.

"Sleeping on the job again?" Captain Innes' voice brought Jim out of a daze with a start.

"Sorry, I was thinking." Jim frowned at the computer in front of him as though to imply it was the cause of his distraction. "What is it, Sir?"

"Must be some pretty deep thoughts." Innes grinned in a friendly enough manner. After only three months in Vice, Jim had a pretty good idea that Innes wasn't the type to be easily ruffled or upset. "Anything useful?"

Jim dubbed his pounding temples. "No, Sir. I just didn't get a lot of sleep the last couple of days."

"You can take another day's leave if you need it."

Innes looked at him sympathetically enough that Jim was seriously tempted. It was surprisingly difficult to keep his mind off Blair, but he couldn't be with the kid every day. At least for the next couple of days he'd be too weak to go out in search of drugs. By then, Jim knew, he'd better have come up with something to convince Blair that the future he'd outlined was at least possible.

So why was he sitting here wasting time? He pushed back his chair. "I've got some things I need to follow up on. Maybe some fresh air will do me good." It occurred to him, belatedly, that Innes still hadn't told him why he'd come to see Jim. "Uh, Sir? You wanted to see me about something?"

"Yes." The smile disappeared off Innes' face. "I just got word that de Silva's lawyer convinced a judge to let her client out on bail. Be careful, Jim."

"Thanks." He nodded to Innes and left.

Blair was asleep on the couch when Jim got home. He'd got started on some of the many things he needed to get done for his new houseguest, and by the time he'd finished, he was pretty damned pleased with the results. He quietly deposited a cardboard box and four department store bags on the coffee table and went to take a closer look at Blair.

The blue eyes opened as he bent over Blair's slim body. The boy blinked in surprise and then grinned weakly. "Hi."

"How're you feeling?" Jim touched his cheek lightly with the back of his hand. Temperature seemed normal, but then there was no reason why it shouldn't be. "I've got something to show you."

Blair's eyes went past him to the pile on the coffee table and he hitched himself into a sitting position with a hopeful look. In contrast, his voice was decidedly casual. "Yeah?"

Jim put the box in his lap. "The old black guy in your building took some of your stuff for safekeeping. He said he's sorry he couldn't get all of it before the others got there."

"Sam did? Cool." Blair's eyes were fairly blazing as he carefully lifted out a small pile of ragged-edged magazine pages and handed them to Jim. A cheap pair of vinyl ankle boots came next and beneath them were his clothes including, at the very bottom, the blue shirt and black leather pants Blair had been wearing the night Jim met him. "This is so great! Thanks Jim."

"It was all Sam's doing, not mine." He took the box away and replaced it with one of the bags. "You can thank me for these if you like."

But instead of being pleased, Blair's expression turned wary as he lifted out a pair of jeans and two sweaters. "You didn't have to do this, man."

"Oh yes I did, Chief. If you think you can go to school in those outfits, you're sadly mistaken." He grinned to take the sting out of his words. He put another, smaller bag with the other. "And you will wear underwear. No arguing."

A tiny smile curled the corner of Blair's mouth. "Okay. What's in there?" He leaned over to reach for the third and fourth bags.

"Sneakers. And T-shirts, socks." Jim tossed them to Blair and watched with amusement as the prosaic contents were carefully examined. He picked up the fifth bag. The one he hadn't put on the coffee table. "Oh, and this one? Books."

"Books?" Blair blinked at Jim and then dived for the bag.

There were nine books. The Education Board worker Jim had spoken to this afternoon had recommended five of them, and there were two novels, a book about Peru and another about Native American art, since they'd been the subjects of most of the pictures on Blair's walls.

"I haven't had books of my own since..." Blair shut his mouth abruptly, then with an effort at regaining his previous casual manner, he smiled tentatively. "It's kinda hard to keep books when you're moving from one place to another."

"I guess it would be." Jim was moved by Blair's reaction, and was trying very hard not to let him see that. He shook Blair's shoulder teasingly. "Those ones," he nodded at the textbooks, "you'll need for school."

"I can't go back to school. I haven't been in over three years." Blair shrugged. "None of them will take me. I'm too old."

Coming from a kid who looked no older than fifteen at most, Jim was hard put not to laugh at this. But the hopelessness in Blair's voice was no laughing matter. "I've already talked to the local Education Board. They're going to arrange for one of their workers to see you. You'll need to sit some tests so they can see what level you're at, and then they'll recommend what you should do next. You can also apply for study grants. I've got a stack of papers for you to fill out. I left them in the truck."

Blair was looking dazed by the time Jim had finished. "But how can I..."

"Money shouldn't be an issue. You can live here for a while, until you settle into whatever you're going to do." Jim held up a hand to forestall any protest. "It won't cost any more to have you living here, and if you get Welfare, you can contribute towards the food."

"Okay." Blair scrunched down, looking shell-shocked.

"There are some things you'll need to do." Jim ticked them off on his fingers. "You need a birth certificate to get welfare, and to apply for grants and college later. I've already started the ball rolling on that. Then there's the test. Read as much of these texts as you can before next week, but don't worry too much. It's just so we can see what gaps need filling in." He took a deep breath. This was the point where he expected trouble. "And I've arranged for a doctor's appointment for tomorrow."

"But..."

"It's just a check up. Same kind as I get every six months." Jim put a hand lightly on Blair's arm. "I'm also going to arrange for weekly drug tests. If this is going to work I need to know you're going to stay clean."

Blair tensed but didn't raise his eyes. "What if I don't?"

"Then you're back on the street. Don't mess this up, Blair. You only get one chance." And God help him if it ever came to that point, because Jim didn't know how he'd deal with it. "You understand?"

Blair nodded silently, his fingers straying restlessly over the book in his lap. Acting on impulse, Jim hugged him briefly before moving away.

"I'm going to make dinner. Do you want chicken soup, or beef and vegetable?" Blair's reply was inaudible, but Jim figured it was better to leave him to think about the offer in peace.

Twenty minutes. It was about what you'd expect for a general check up, particularly for a first time patient, but Jim prowled the waiting room restlessly. Twenty-two minutes.

The door leading to the consulting room opened. "Jim. Come on in." Mike held the door open and grinned at him. "You're scaring the patients."

Not for the first time, Jim was glad that he'd taken the time to find a gay doctor when he'd come to Cascade. Certainly, it made his current situation easier. It was hard to imagine taking Blair to any straight doctor, besides which, Mike was a relaxed and completely non-threatening kind of guy.

"Everything okay?" Jim kept his voice low. There was only a short hallway leading to Mike's room and he didn't want Blair to hear him.

Mike simply smiled and nodded reassuringly. "Your boy's fine."

"He's not my..." but they'd reached the small office now, and Jim fell silent.

Blair was sitting, unselfconsciously naked, on the examining table. His bruises were fading nicely now, but still Jim frowned at the sight of them. He looked at Mike enquiringly.

"Sorry, Blair. I thought I'd told you to get dressed. We've finished for now." Mike's voice was only mildly penitent, and Jim was quite sure that Mike had told Blair. This was just Blair's way of pushing for a reaction.

Sure enough, Blair slid down from the table and went to get his clothes with a distinctly sexual slink to his step. Jim and Mike both did their best to ignore him.

"I'll talk while you dress, Blair." Mike raised an amused eyebrow at Jim. "Blair's a little under the weather, of course, but doing extremely well considering his situation. I'll give you a list of dietary supplements and some foods he should have."

A groan came from Blair's direction and Mike laughed. "Don't worry Blair. I've eaten Jim's cooking and survived."

Jim scowled, playing along. "Hey, it's not that bad."

"No it isn't. And it's going to get better. No more Wonder Burgers for breakfast. Restrict your intake of pizza and Chinese takeaways to once a week."

Now that was going too far. The scowl was suddenly genuine. "You're enjoying this."

Mike's eyes were dancing. "Immensely. Blair will need a good eight hours sleep per night, and Blair? No anal intercourse for at least another week, you hear?"

Jim choked so hard he barely heard Blair's unconcerned assent.

"Oh, by the way Jim, since you're overdue for your check up, I'll just have a quick look at you. Blair, you can wait outside."

It was barely three months since his last check up, but Jim said nothing until Mike had come back from ushering Blair to the waiting room.

"Is there something wrong?"

He'd barely given Mike time to get into the room, and he saw the mobile eyebrows slant upwards again. "I was going to ask you that. Jim, you're very... possessive of this boy. I don't want to see you, or him, get hurt."

"There's no reason either of us should get hurt." Jim turned away to stare out the small, barred window.

A hand came to rest heavily on his shoulder. "Don't you? Jim, have you had sex with him?"

"Once. A few weeks ago" Jim suppressed the urge to shake off Mike's touch. "He's over eighteen, and we used a condom. He's not infected is he?"

"No, he's not. I called for his records from the free STD clinic. His last test was only a few weeks ago. That's not what I'm concerned about." Mike shook his shoulder roughly. "Listen to your voice, Jim. I've never heard you get so worked up over anything. Are you sure you know what you're letting yourself in for?"

"Of course I don't. I've never taken in a street kid before, but Blair..." Jim shrugged helplessly and turned to face Mike. "There's something about him. I can't just let him rot on the streets."

"Are you in love with him?"

"I don't know." Jim shook his head, wishing he could be sure of anything. In the last two days living with Blair had been a gut churning mixture of joy and delight and frustration and sick, guilty longings that were driving him to distraction.

"Just don't let him break your heart, Jim." Mike met his eyes soberly. "And before you bite my head off, I think he's a lovely kid. But he didn't end up as a hustler because he likes the sex. Three or four years of that kind of life can psychologically damage an adult. Blair was fifteen when he ran away from home."

"I know that. And I know something about abusive childhoods too. Blair... he needs me, and I need to help him."

"Well..." Mike shrugged. "Physically he's okay. Chronically undernourished, which is what you'd expect. If you can keep him off the heroin, and get some decent food into him, he should put on weight, even maybe grow an inch or two. Basically, he looks so young partly because he's small anyway, and partly because his poor diet has retarded his physical development."

"That's it?" Jim looked at Mike sceptically. "Just feed him?"

Mike grinned. "Kids are very resilient. Of course, that's physically. Emotionally, psychologically, he's a mess. But that's not my line of work. Get help, Jim. That's my advice."

Jim smiled sourly and headed for the door. "Thanks a bundle."

It was a relief for Jim when the weekend finally arrived. Increasingly he'd found himself distracted and moody at work, wondering about what Blair might be getting up to. The stronger he got, the more Jim worried. He couldn't hide behind the comfortable assumption that Blair was too weak to go out and get drugs any longer.

When he was with Blair, most of those worries seemed ridiculous. It was hard to believe that he was anything other than a normal teenager, though nothing could have prepared Jim for actually having a teenager living with him, and sleeping, however innocently, in his bed. Not to mention leaving his bathroom in a state that strongly resembled a war zone every morning.

He woke late, as he usually did on a Saturday morning, and lay wondering what the day, and Blair, would have in store for him. He'd already become accustomed to Blair's presence in his bed, and Blair obviously had no problems either. The kid was a natural snuggler, and it was one of Jim's greatest delights to indulge him. If he stayed still, he could lie for a good twenty minutes holding Blair in his arms, before this miniature force of nature attained consciousness. It was the main reason Jim had yet to make any alternative sleeping arrangements for his new housemate.

But eventually even Blair could sleep no longer, and Jim slipped away from him as he stirred. By the time Blair's reluctant incursion into wakefulness was completed, Jim was fully dressed and heading for the stairs. "Breakfast in fifteen, kiddo. Don't be late."

Breakfast these days was a major production. Orange juice and milk was set up on the counter, eggs - fried today - in the pan along with bacon and hash browns. And, thank God, the coffeemaker dripping black gold into the pot. Mike would be proud of him.

Blair arrived exactly fifteen minutes after Jim came downstairs. At Jim's insistence Blair no longer went naked around the loft. Except when he forgot. This time he'd remembered and was wearing boxers and a T-shirt. He was still yawning and scratching his head, which did nothing to improve the tangled mass of hair curling wildly around his head. He surveyed the fruits of Jim's labours critically. "No waffles?"

"They're in the freezer." Jim nodded in the appropriate direction. Blair had only the sketchiest notion of where it was; unless, of course, he was hungry.

"Nah. I hate frozen waffles." Blair downed the glass of orange juice in a couple of swallows and attacked the plate of food Jim set before him. "Do I have to drink the milk?"

"Three glasses a day. That's what Mike said." Jim sat opposite Blair, marvelling at how swiftly a small, slender boy could dispose of a plate heaped with food. "And if you can tear yourself away from the shower in less than thirty minutes, we can go to the market this morning."

"Sure." Blair brightened. "I was getting sick of staying inside."

"So you haven't been going out while I've been working?" He said it too casually, and saw Blair roll his eyes. "Just asking."

"I don't wanna risk running into Diego or his guys." Blair looked up at Jim for a moment with a troubled expression. "The word's got to be out on the street by now."

"Don't worry too much about that. He's not going to try anything while you're living with a cop." Jim swallowed a mouthful of coffee and sighed with pleasure. "How's the study going? You getting ready for the test next Wednesday?"

"Yeah, sure. I finished the books you got me." Blair loaded a fork with bacon and hash brown, considered it a moment and pushed a scrap of yolk-dripping egg on top. Somehow he managed to get it all in his mouth.

Jim frowned. Blair sounded entirely too casual about the whole thing. "I know I told you not to worry too much, Chief, but the better you do in this test, the better your chances are. We need to know what you're capable of doing."

"No, man, I mean it. That stuff was pretty easy." Blair smiled seraphically. "I did all that before I even ran away."

"Blair you can't have done that course work. That was senior year level."

"They put me up a couple of classes." Blair shrugged, seemingly bored by the whole conversation. "I was in my last term of senior year when I took off."

Jim shook his head, not sure whether to believe any of this. "And you just remembered it all?"

Blair downed the last of his milk and reached for the coffee. "The books helped. I guess I'm just good at remembering things."

"Good at remembering things." Jim shook his head again. "Well, I guess we'll find out on Wednesday."

The market was one Blair had never been to before. Huge, and housed permanently in a couple of converted warehouses, with temporary stalls surrounding three sides of the large open area between them. Since it was a sunny day, this courtyard was filled with people sitting on benches or at tables eating food. The stalls contained almost every imaginable item - clothes, books, all sorts of crafts - and enough ethnic food to satisfy any craving. Blair was in heaven

"Hey this is great, Jim. Look." Blair held up a hand woven poncho. "It's authentic."

The stall holder smiled hopefully. "From a small village in Mexico."

"I'm sure it is." Jim nudged Blair's ribs. "I'm running out of hands."

"Oh." He hadn't realised just how much he'd collected since they arrived. Blair took in Jim's longsuffering expression and loaded arms with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You didn't have to buy all that stuff. I was just admiring it, you know."

"Sure." Jim grinned. "Oh Jim, that picture'd look great on the wall beside the door. Hey, and that shirt's just like the one Naomi got me from India."

"Well, it was." Blair eyed Jim warily, but he didn't seem angry. "That didn't mean you had to buy it."

"Relax, Chief, I'm not complaining. But I am getting hungry." Jim looked around the food stalls. "There must be a hot dog stand somewhere."

Blair considered that possibility dubiously. "I dunno. There's a Sudanese place over there." He pointed hopefully. "Sudanese food is really cool."

"Oh, what the hell." Jim followed behind, grumbling, as Blair led the way. "But if I get food poisoning..."

"And there's a second hand bookstall we have to check out. I saw it on the way in." Blair wondered, belatedly, if he should offer to carry something.

As they ate, Blair watched Jim as covertly as he could. He still hadn't figured the big guy out. It was his experience that men who felt guilty about something were usually satisfied with a muttered 'sorry' and the promise of a trip to a ball game. He couldn't even begin to imagine how much money Jim had already spent on him; and if he kept his promise, that would be only the beginning. It didn't add up, and things that didn't add up bothered him.

"Why so serious?"

Blair raised his eyes to Jim's with a start. "Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking."

"What about?" Jim smiled at him. It was quite a nice smile, Blair supposed. The kind that made you want to trust him.

"Just..." Blair let his eyes follow a dog schmoozing the tables for scraps, then reluctantly turned back to Jim. "Why are you doing this? You don't have to."

"I want to." Jim's voice was so casual, as though it was nothing to take in a kid off the streets and offer to put him through college. "I like you, Blair, and you're bright. You could be so much more than a..."

"Hustler." Blair finished it for him when Jim wouldn't. "That's what I am, Jim."

"Not any more." Jim reached for the parcels, effectively ending the conversation. "How about we put these in the truck before we check out that poncho?"

"I don't want the poncho. Can we go now?" He knew he sounded petulant, but right now he didn't care.

"Sure we can." Jim looked at him quizzically. "Are you all right?"

Blair forced himself to smile. "I guess I'm kinda tired."

Immediately, Jim was all efficiency. "You wait here, then. I'll bring the truck over to the main entrance. Just give me five minutes."

"No!" The strength of his reluctance to be alone in this crowded space surprised Blair until it occurred to him that he knew of at least half a dozen places less than ten minutes walk away where he could get drugs. His body didn't need them any more, but that hadn't stopped the craving; he suddenly wanted to crawl up into a needle and hide there. Except that Jim had made it very clear what would happen if he did. He realised that Jim was looking at him with raised eyebrows. "I'm okay, just tired. I'll walk with you."

Jim didn't look convinced, but he just nodded. "Sure. Let's go home."

"Home." Blair blinked in confusion. He hadn't had anything resembling a home in over three years. It was strange to think of Jim's loft in those terms. He wasn't sure that he wanted to.

Sunday morning; Jim woke with hair tickling his nostrils and that Blair-sense he had whenever they were together, now, dominating his awareness. He'd be willing to bet that he could pick Blair out of a room with a hundred people in it. Blindfolded. He didn't really mind it, except for that small part of his brain that hated an unresolved mystery; it was just a facet of his life that was mostly forgotten in the bustle of day to day living.

Meanwhile, he had an armful of Blair, and a certain contentment that came from everything being the way it ought to be. Except, Jim realised suddenly, this morning Blair was wide-awake and lying very still in his arms. He released the slim figure gently, moving away just enough to establish some distance between them, but not enough, he hoped, to imply rejection.

"Morning. You're awake early." Jim kept his tone casual, belying the sudden increase in his heart rate. It was probably time, he decided reluctantly, to get an extra bed and set it up in the small downstairs room.

"It must have been that nap I had yesterday." Blair seemed unconcerned. "I can't believe I needed a nap."

Jim smiled at the scornful tone. "It was your first real outing since you've been sick. I guess I should have realised you might get tired."

"Well I'm fine now." Blair shrugged and moved closer, reaching for him.

Jim caught the slender wrist in a firm grip. "Whoa. Chief, what are you doing?"

Blair smiled, a very adult smile, and leaned towards Jim. "I'm feeling better. We can make up for lost time."

"Lost..." Jim thought his jaw would hit the mattress. "You want to..."

"Fuck. Sure. Don't you want to?" Blair's expression suggested that nobody in his right mind would think otherwise. He slipped his hand from Jim's slackened grip and pounced. "Thought so." His smile grew smug.

Jim's pulse went haywire for a moment and he gasped, then lifted Blair's hand away from his cock. "Wanting isn't the same thing as doing, Blair. You don't have to..." he gasped again as Blair lowered his head abruptly and teeth scraped across his nipple.

"I want to, okay? I haven't had sex in nearly two weeks." The indignation in Blair's voice stuck Jim as particularly hilarious and he laughed, until a tiny bite on his nipple had him arching his back off the bed in reaction. "I forgot. Guess you're sensitive there, huh?"

"Not usually." Jim got his voice under control with difficulty. "Blair, seriously..."

"Don't want to be serious." Blair licked the abused nipple gently. It still made Jim break out in a sweat.

Jim realised it was time he took control of the situation. He managed to grab Blair's shoulders and hold him at arm's length. "Seriously. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Blair sighed. "How many times do I have to say it?"

"Four or five would probably be good." He touched Blair's cheek gently. He must be out of his mind.

"I want to." Blair counted off on his fingers. "I want to. I want to. I want to. I want to."

"I want to, too." And if it was going to happen, Jim decided it was going to be something that Blair would never forget, or compare to the mercenary couplings he'd practised night after night for the last three years. "Just... let me do this. Okay?"

Blair nodded, his eyes suddenly serious. "Okay."

He blinked, but remained steady as Jim leaned towards him. Still, when their lips touched, Blair flinched a little. Jim waited a moment then kissed him gently again. This time the full, sensual lips remained quiescent against his own, relaxing just a fraction as the kiss continued. Jim cupped the still slightly hollow cheek with his palm and brushed his tongue lightly over Blair's lips, finding just the tiniest hint of a parting, and caressing it into openness.

As his tongue slipped inside Blair's mouth Jim heard a soft breathy moan, and echoed it with his own. The taste of Blair's mouth was almost intoxicating, both like and unlike the scent he was already familiar with. Blair's tongue was silky smooth against his own, taking his lead from Jim, obviously inexperienced, but quick to learn.

"Let me hold you." Jim whispered the words and Blair nodded his agreement.

They lay close together, exchanging long, slow burning kisses, and feeding off each other's arousal as their cocks stirred lazily in the warm space between their bodies. When he thought that Blair was relaxing against him, Jim allowed his hands to wander, caressing the smooth flesh. He could tell that Blair had gained back most of the weight he'd lost, and it gave him pleasure to feel with his hands what his eyes had already told him.

As Blair began to respond to Jim's kisses rather than to merely accept them, Jim slowly drew back, preferring to leave him wanting more. Blair protested this with a soft moan, but Jim ruthlessly ignored him in favour of laying a soft trail of kisses down Blair's throat and onto his chest.

"Oh man..." Blair's fingers fumbled distractedly across Jim's shoulders and he shifted restlessly.

Jim removed his lips from around Blair's nipple long enough to glance up into his face. "You like this?"

Blair groaned quietly. "Oh yeah."

"Good." Jim was chuckling as he applied himself to the other nipple. The ring felt strange against his tongue, but he soon discovered that sucking it would produce a flurry of gasps and moans. There was certainly no danger of his not knowing whether Blair was enjoying himself.

Without any warning, Blair rolled into his back, pulling Jim over on top of him, and the sudden change disrupted Jim's mood. He paused to look up questioningly as Blair brought one thigh up to press against his hip.

"Don't you want to fuck me, man?" Blair's voice was unnervingly prosaic.

Dear God, how he did. And couldn't. Jim swallowed, easing the tightness in his throat a little. "It hasn't been a week yet. Remember?"

"Oh." It wasn't often he got to see Blair so disconcerted. It was almost worth the disappointment, Jim decided.

"We'll think of something." His hand stroked up and down Blair's thigh, in love with the smooth skin and the feel of firm slender muscle. He could feel Blair's cock, hard against his stomach, could feel the heat and the throb of it through his own heat and pounding heart. He knew exactly what he wanted to do.

Blair shuddered as Jim began to kiss and lick every inch of his slender body. It wasn't enough just to touch him; Jim wanted, needed, to experience the essence of Blair. It brought an intense rush of pleasure and at the same time a sense of frighteningly intimate communication. Nothing in his life had ever come close to this. His head framed by Blair's raised thighs, Jim touched his lips to Blair's cock and felt somehow complete. His tongue slid easily along the thick vein and flickered across the sensitive cockhead.

"God! Oh God..." Blair's hips surged beneath him. "Jim, please..."

"Hold on Chief, I've hardly gotten started." There was a certain note of amused satisfaction in Jim's voice. It seemed he still had the power to teach Blair a thing or two. He took Blair's cock into his mouth as Blair cried out in shock.

In a matter of moments the encounter had degenerated from the almost sublime to a desperate, sweaty wrestling match. But Blair wasn't the only one in this bed who could give good head, and Jim was determined to prove his point. He wasn't helped by Blair, tossing and moaning and apparently trying to buck them both off the bed. Jim finally managed to pin Blair's hips to the bed while he set about satisfying the incoherent pleas for 'more... oh please...' that ricocheted about his head.

He watched Blair's face as he worked the short, sturdy cock; saw the beads of sweat on his upper lip and the way he frowned and swallowed, trying to control his responses. Blair's hands were curled into fists in the bedding, knuckles whitening every time Jim sucked a little harder, or teased behind his balls with his fingertips. He could almost feel the force of the sharp, panting breaths Blair took, and suddenly the urge to find release became unbearable.

But not before Blair. He wanted desperately to see Blair come, to taste his climax, and feel it in the marrow of his bones. It wouldn't be long, Jim knew, but every moment seemed an eternity as they raced each other to the finish line. Finally, Blair cried out and Jim felt the pulse of his cock and the hot rush of come in his throat. Shudders racked the slim body and Blair's cock pulsed again, and then again, weakly now, before Blair subsided into a profound inertia. His head resting on Blair's thigh, Jim loosed his own orgasm, hard, intense, and silent.

Blair lay in a loose sprawl, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest. When Jim crawled up to collapse beside him, Blair barely acknowledged his existence. It gave Jim a chance to go over in his mind what had happened between them, and it all added up to something that he didn't want to believe.

He brushed away the long strands of hair clinging sweatily to Blair's cheek and waited until he groaned softly and opened his eyes. "Blair..." Jim's throat closed up and he realised he simply did not want to hear what he knew was going to come.

"Hey, that was incredible, Jim." Blair blinked dazedly. "Really incredible. I mean... wow... it was like, the best... you know?"

"Thanks, Chief." His voice was dryly ironic and he could see that Blair picked it up immediately. "This... you've never... I mean, nobody's ever given you a blow job before?"

"No, man. Can you imagine a john paying to give me a blow job?" Blair looked at him like he was an idiot. "That's crazy."

"Haven't you ever had a lover? Someone you had sex with just because you wanted to?" Jim knew he was grasping at straws, and still couldn't help himself.

"Why should I, when I have guys paying me to have sex with them?" Blair shrugged nonchalantly. "I get all the sex I need." He took a long look at Jim's face and smiled cautiously. "I mean, I used to. And now I've got you."

It eased the ache in his heart a little to hear that, though Jim was no longer sure what any of this really meant to Blair. He returned the smile and drew Blair into his arms. "You sure have, kid."

The bullpen was at its chaotic best, and Jim was having trouble tuning out enough of the noise to be able get his paperwork completed. His head was pounding and a waft of cologne from a passing visitor set his stomach churning. Maybe he was coming down with something. It was tempting to just yell at everybody to keep it down, but, as a relative newcomer, he suspected that he'd only be subjected to a barrage of crumpled paper balls, and the noise level would remain unaffected.

"Hey Ellison, your kid's here."

He didn't bother to look up. "I don't have a kid, Danny."

"Well, he's asking for you." The cop, not much taller than Blair, but twice as wide, nodded towards the doorway. Blair was standing there, looking understandably nervous.

"Blair?" Jim motioned him over and watched as the slim figure practically flew across the room, loose hair streaming behind him. "He's staying with me for a while."

Danny simply grunted and moved away, which was just as well, because Blair had arrived and was throwing himself on Jim's chest, hugging him, and talking so fast Jim couldn't make out a word. "Hey, slow down Chief. What is it?"

"Jim, you're not gonna believe this." Blair bounced on the balls of his feet in front of Jim, his hands fluttering excitedly. "I don't think I believe it. Man, this is just so incredible."

"Take it easy." Jim took hold of Blair's shoulders and forced him to stand still. "Why don't you sit over here and tell me all about it. I guess it's good news?" He pushed Blair down into a seat by his desk and sat back in his chair.

"Uh huh." Blair nodded and swallowed, then grinned widely. "It's the test, man. I fucking aced it. Top marks. They want me to sit ACTs. There's an exam in just a few weeks, and going by the scores I got today, they think I'll pass easily."

"Hey, that's great news, Blair." Jim grinned; his headache suddenly seeming irrelevant. "I knew you could do it, but I didn't exactly expect this. You did well on all the subjects?"

"Yeah, well, except for math. That score wasn't as good, but it was still a high pass mark." The brilliance of Blair's smile dimmed for a moment, then came back full force. "But that's not all. The clerk at the Education Board knows someone in the Admissions Office at Ranier and she called him up when she saw my scores, and he said..."

"Hold on a minute. You're talking about Ranier University?" Jim blinked. He'd never even considered university as a possibility for Blair.

Blair nodded, still talking. "...and he said that if my ACT scores are as high as these practice tests, then Ranier'll be begging me to go there, and I can get grants and scholarships, so I won't have to pay for my tuition, and I'll get an allowance as well. Isn't it great?"

"It sure is." There was a hollow feeling in his stomach. With all that support, Blair wouldn't need to stay with him. Which ought to be a good thing, but somehow wasn't. "Have you thought about what you want to study?"

"Well..." Suddenly all the energy seemed to drain out of Blair and he looked at Jim uncertainly. "They have the best anthropology department there. It's one of the top in the country."

"Anthropology?" Jim raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't have thought anthropologists got paid too well."

The mildness of his comment seemed to reassure Blair. "It kinda depends. Field workers get research grants, and they hire staff, grad students mostly. Or I could teach. A good university pays okay, I think." He looked doubtfully across the desk at Jim. "I guess they don't exactly make a fortune."

"But it's what you want to do?" Jim waited for Blair's nod of affirmation. "Then you should do it."

"Thanks man." Blair smiled gratefully at him and Jim could see his excitement spiking again. "You know, I never really thought this would work. I mean, it's like a dream."

"I'm glad everything's working out for you." It sounded a bit flat, and Jim worked on his smile until it felt almost genuine. "We'll have to celebrate."

"Yeah!" Blair's eyes lit up. "We have so got to celebrate this, man."

Jim suppressed a groan, realising, too late, just how Blair was going to want to celebrate. In just a few days, he'd been forcibly reminded of what it was like to be eighteen, sexually insatiable, and have a refractory period of just ten minutes. He'd be lucky to survive the night.

With just three weeks to go, Blair had his work cut out for him to be ready for his exams. There was just too much riding on the results for him to feel overconfident, in spite of the way he'd flown through the practice tests. As a result, he was now spending most of each day studying, even though he knew most of the work already. Ironically, it was Jim who kept telling him not to work too hard, but it wasn't difficult when Blair still felt nervous about being seen out on the street.

But, after a long day studying in his favourite position, belly down on the floor with his chin propped in his hands, Blair needed a break. He yawned and stretched, working out the kinks in his back, then wandered over to the stereo. Jim's taste in music was pretty awful, but he had one CD that Blair liked - a compilation album of Santana's greatest hits. Naomi had had a copy of that and he knew all the songs by heart. With the volume turned up really loud, it was pretty cool. Blair danced his way to the kitchen and grabbed a coke from the fridge.

He was out on the balcony watching the setting sun when the music stopped abruptly. Jim was so anal about the stereo being turned up loud. Blair sighed and went back inside. Two steps into the room he stopped and stared for a moment before hurrying over to Jim. "Man, what happened to you?"

Jim waved him away and limped over to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a hot shower. I'll tell you about it later."

"Okay. You want me to cook dinner?" Oops.

Jim turned slowly. "You know how to cook?"

"Uh, yeah. Naomi started teaching me when I was ten." Blair smiled innocently. "I guess I never mentioned that, huh?"

"I don't remember you mentioning it, no." Jim's voice indicated that they'd talk about it later. "I won't be long."

Blair had a good look in the fridge. It had been a long time, but he was pretty sure he could throw something together. But should he go all out and hope a good meal would placate Jim, or make something barely edible so Jim wouldn't want him to cook anyway? Tough decision.

He settled for a stir-fry and noodles. Jim liked Asian food and it was pretty simple; that ought to cover him both ways. He made sure the coffee maker was primed with Jim's favourite blend and the TV set to Jim's favourite channel - EPSN. The moment he heard the bathroom door open, Blair started tossing vegetables into the wok.

Jim barely acknowledged him as he limped up the stairs with a towel around his waist and carrying an armful of clothing. When he came back down, dressed, Jim sniffed the air appreciatively. "Smells good."

Blair didn't make the mistake of thinking Jim was referring to his cooking. "There's a mug poured on the table."

"Thanks." Jim sank into a chair with a sigh. "How's the study going?"

"Good. I started over on the math. I think I've got it pretty well sewn up." Just a dash more soy, some Oyster sauce and... "Dinner's ready. I'll bring it over." He placed a well-heaped and steaming plate in front of Jim and dropped into the chair beside his.

Jim poked at the vegetables with his fork. "No meat?"

"Naomi only taught me vegetarian." Blair shrugged.

"But you're not vegetarian." Jim was patently waiting for an answer.

"No."

"Blair..." Jim put a hand on his arm and Blair looked up reluctantly. "We're still looking for her. It takes time."

"I know. She doesn't stay in one place very long. I told you. And she doesn't trust the pi... the cops." He glanced at Jim to check his reaction to that little slip and found, to his relief, that Jim was trying not to smile. Blair grinned. "Well, she doesn't."

"I'm glad it doesn't run in the family." Jim finally lifted a fork loaded with stir-fry to his mouth. "Hey, this is good." It sounded a lot like an accusation.

Blair decided it was a good time to change the topic of conversation. "So what happened to you?"

Jim shrugged and winced. Blair had seen the bruise on his shoulder, and the others, on his back and ribs. "I was involved in a bust. One of the hired help decided to make a run for it and I went after him. I fell off a catwalk."

"Yeah? He must have been a pretty big guy to throw you around like that."

"Not really." Jim's eyes were firmly on his plate and he sounded evasive. "There was this noise. It startled me and I fell."

"What kind of a noise?" It was obvious that Jim didn't want to talk about it, but that only made Blair more curious. "A gun shot? An explosion?"

"No. More like a loud clang. At least that's what they told me." Jim rubbed his hand over his forehead. "Somebody threw a monkey wrench and it hit a concrete pillar."

"What? You're kidding me, aren't you?" But Blair could already see that Jim wasn't joking. "You fell off a catwalk because of a monkey wrench hitting a pillar? Man, that's so Zen."

"Spare me the oriental philosophy, Chief." Jim pushed his plate away almost untouched. "So help me, it felt like my head was going to explode. I don't know what happened. Next thing I knew I was on the floor and the guy I'd been chasing was long gone."

"Maybe you were knocked out. Did you get your head checked?" Blair spread his hands as Jim glared at him. "Hey, I mean it, you could have concussion."

Jim sighed. "I've had concussion before. That wasn't concussion."

"Well eat up." Blair studied him for a moment. There was no point in pushing it; he'd only annoy Jim. "I could give you a back rub later."

'Later' inevitably turned into sooner, and the back rub into something much more fun. Blair leaned back against a mound of pillows and stared down at Jim's dark head, buried in his lap. Jim was almost as good at giving head as Blair was, and he even enjoyed it, which was a concept that Blair still had trouble dealing with.

He'd never really understood, until Jim had showed him, why the johns had loved blow jobs so much. He'd always preferred a jack off, or a fuck. It was less intimate than having his face literally in someone's groin, and not always a very sweet smelling groin, at that... But this hot, wet, slippery caress on his cock was the most wonderful sensation imaginable. When he got old and couldn't get it any other way, he'd probably pay someone to do this for him, too.

It still didn't explain why Jim enjoyed doing it to him, and Blair wasn't going to ask. Just thank all the gods that Naomi had ever told him about, and not ask questions that could end up with him being kicked back onto the streets. At least, not until after he'd got those grants they'd been telling him about. Now that he had a chance at something he'd never dared dream about, he couldn't give it up. Not for anything.

He ruffled Jim's hair with his fingers and very carefully did not grab his head and push it down onto his cock. Oh God, how he wanted to. Still, his hips surged up and Jim just took it, deep-throating him easily then sliding up to suck on his cockhead while his fist pumped the shaft. Blair moaned and tried to thrust again, but the mouth was gone from his cock and trailing downwards over his balls.

"Jim... oh God, Jim, please... I'm gonna come." It was a source of considerable frustration to him that Jim could hold off for so damn long. There were nights when he'd come twice before Jim had climaxed even once, and he suspected Jim was doing it on purpose. Trying to wear him out. "I'm gonna... oh God..."

Euww. Jim was licking him clean again. It felt pretty good, but then Jim always wanted to kiss him afterwards, which was just plain weird tasting, although the kissing itself was nice. He returned the kisses lazily, content for the next few minutes to relax and drift in the warm afterglow, but vaguely conscious that Jim was rubbing against him slowly, his cock iron hard and burning hot. Soon Jim would want to fuck him, but probably not until Blair was hard again. Jim had some kind of strange thing about that.

Blair's first warning that the agenda was about to change came in the form of the slightly clammy feel of a condom being rolled onto his reawakening cock. He opened his eyes to see Jim grinning down at him. "What's going on, man?"

"I thought that'd get your attention." Jim smirked a little. "Roll over. On top of me."

He did as he was told, of course. He'd never had any illusions about who was calling the shots here, but this had him confused. "You want me to ride you?"

"Who's wearing the condom, Chief? I want you to fuck me."

"Ha ha. Very funny." Except that he was wearing the condom. Blair's jaw dropped. "You're kidding me, right?"

Jim shook his head. "Another first for you? Don't worry, you won't hurt me."

He wasn't so sure about that, but he wasn't going to argue either. There was a tingling sensation at the base of his spine that told him not to ask questions. Just do what Jim wanted, and find out whether fucking someone could possibly be as good as being fucked.

"Here, I'll make it easier for you." Jim pulled his knees up towards his chest, grunting a little as he pulled on bruised muscles. "I think you know where everything goes."

He knew that all right, but still Blair hesitated. He tended to think of Jim as old, but God, that long, beautifully buffed body and the even longer legs looked pretty damn good right now. His eyes were drawn to the small dark thatch of pubic hair and the impressive cock that rose imperiously above a flat, muscular belly, and wondered why a man like Jim would need to go to the trouble of taking in a hustler just to get a regular fuck. Guys ought to be lining up to give him whatever he wanted.

It wasn't the first time he'd wondered about that. But then, he'd wondered about a lot of things Jim did, and the only conclusion he could come to was that Jim just wasn't like other johns. So now Jim wanted Blair to fuck him... Blair closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in and out, like Naomi had taught him when he'd tried to meditate with her, then felt cautiously with his fingers for Jim's asshole.

Okay, so that was easy enough. Jim just watched, and waited as Blair probed gently, first with his fingers and then with his cock. There was just a bit of resistance, nothing unusual in that, and then he'd pushed past the outer ring of muscle and his cockhead was firmly held, just inside. After that it was almost too easy, and he was completely buried inside Jim's ass.

"See? That wasn't so bad." Jim grinned up at him, looking like he'd just won the lottery, or something. He reached up and pulled Blair down closer to him. "You can move if you want to."

Jim was laughing at him, dammit, but this... it was... "It feels... tight, hot, and... and... I dunno what it feels like."

"It feels fucking fantastic." Another grin, and a quick, gentle touch on his cheek. "To borrow a phrase from your vocabulary."

"Yeah." Blair grinned at him, and for a moment they were just two guys, going about the serious business of getting laid. He moved his hips a little, experimenting, and gasped at the way Jim's body held him so firmly. "Oh God, that feels good."

"Mm-hmm." Jim's hands came to rest lightly on his hips, guiding him as he pushed slowly back in again. "Just try angling a little higher next time."

Blair nodded, biting his lip in concentration. The waves of pleasure his movements brought him were distracting him; but on the next thrust Jim shuddered and closed his eyes, so he knew he must be doing something right.

"Harder next time." Jim's vice was a little husky now. "I told you, you won't hurt me."

"I know." It was getting easier, now that Jim had loosened up a bit. "I'm just not used to... ohh..." Jim's ass had tightened around him again, and it was almost more than he could manage not to come right then. Somehow he suspected that Jim wouldn't be very impressed if he did.

He laid himself along Jim's body, drinking in every sensation, from the press of Jim's cock against his belly to the faint random twitches as Jim's inner muscles responded to his presence. He wouldn't be able to indulge himself for long without giving way, and besides, he couldn't thrust as deeply like this, but it just felt so incredible...

Jim, as usual, made little noise during sex, but the rapid, disordered breathing told Blair that he was close to shooting his load. He pushed himself up again to full arm's length, and used the angle of his body to plunge even deeper that he had before. Jim moaned, rolling his head away for a moment as his hips jerked up, impaling himself for what seemed to Blair like an eternity, before dropping away again with a gasp.

"Blair..." He reached up, entangling his fingers in the long hair and drawing it back from Blair's face. "God, you're so beautiful."

Before Blair could even begin to respond to this unexpected flattery, Jim lunged up, fastening his mouth against Blair's lips in a long desperate kiss. He drove in again, any lingering concern that he might hurt Jim lost in the need to release the pressure building inside him. Balancing on one trembling arm, Blair reached between their bodies to grab Jim's cock and pump it furiously, in time with his thrusts.

Jim's groan reverberated through Blair's mouth, down into his body where it was submerged by an even greater force. All Blair was aware of was the sudden tightening around his cock, and the way it pulsed, clutched deep inside Jim's body, but which came first, he could never be entirely sure, not that it really mattered. When it was over, all he wanted was to lie sprawled on top of Jim, gasping for breath, until he was forced by necessity to move so he could dispose of the condom.

When he returned to the bed, Jim was silent. Not sleeping, just not wanting to talk. It wasn't the first time that he'd withdrawn in this way after sex, and Blair had eventually decided that it was just the way Jim was. He never seemed to mind if Blair lay closer beside him than was absolutely necessary, in fact, he seemed to like it, and Blair, somewhat to his surprise, had discovered that he liked it too.

It looked like any ordinary high school on any ordinary day. And, in fact, it was an ordinary school, but the day was far from ordinary, for Jim at least. He glanced at his watch for maybe the hundredth time, even though he knew that when the students were released from their exams, he'd certainly know about it. Still ten minutes to go. He thought seriously about driving around the block a couple of times, but wasn't willing to risk the possibility of getting caught up in a miniature localised crime wave. That sort of thing just seemed to happen to him.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, pacing, and checking his watch, the main doors of the high school opened and a flood of chattering teenagers poured through and spread out in small groups which slowed to a meandering crawl as they compared notes. Occasionally a cheer or a wail would be heard above the general hubbub. Jim craned his neck as he scanned the crowd. Blair was in there somewhere.

Then Jim's Blair-sense kicked in, and he spotted the boy. Dressed in jeans and a loose T-shirt, Blair was smaller and looked younger than any of the other kids, even though he was the same age. It gave Jim a strange feeling to see Blair surrounded by kids his own age; kids he would never have dreamed of having any kind of a sexual relationship with. It was no help at all to remind himself that Blair had certainly slept with more men than Jim ever had. He was still a kid.

Blair caught sight of him a moment later and headed towards him. "Hey, I didn't know you'd be here, Jim."

"I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I'd save you a bus ride." Of course he was only in the neighbourhood because Blair had been here sitting his ACTs, but Blair didn't need to know that. Blair's nervousness about being out on the street where de Silva's men might get to him was rubbing off onto Jim. "So, how'd it go?"

"Okay." Blair shrugged casually, then spoilt the effect by grinning widely. "It was good. Great. I think I did better than the other time." He considered it for a moment. "I know I did better in math."

"We'll know for sure in four weeks." By this time they'd reached the truck, and Jim grinned as he unlocked the door. "What are you going to do now you don't need to study for a while?"

"I dunno." Blair slid into the passenger seat. "I could start doing some reading at the library, maybe."

"How about a summer job? It'll give you something to do and earn you a bit of money." Jim had been thinking about the next few weeks. With nothing to occupy his time, there was always the danger that Blair might fall into old habits out of sheer boredom.

"I guess..." Blair's voice was dubious. "I don't know what I'd do. Massage parlour maybe."

"That's not funny." Jim spoke more sharply than he'd intended. "The last thing you need right now is to get busted."

"It was a joke, okay? Lighten up, man." Blair frowned at the road ahead of them. "Maybe I could talk to that guy at Ranier. He might know if there's any jobs on campus I could do."

"Sounds like a good idea." Jim relaxed a little. It looked like Blair was going to be co-operative on this one. "I'll ask around at the stationhouse. Somebody might know if there's anything going. Want to stop for a coffee?"

"How about a beer?" Blair grinned at Jim's outraged stare. "Hey, I've got my ID now. Might as well use it."

"Unless that card says you were born in 1971, it's not going to do you a lot of good." Jim looked at him sharply. "It doesn't, does it?"

Blair's face was the picture of innocence, but he didn't speak.

"Blair! Let me see it." Jim held his hand out imperiously.

"Just kidding, man." Blair grinned. "I probably wouldn't get a drink even with an ID. I mean, do I look twenty-one?"

"You don't look eighteen." The corner of Jim's mouth twitched and he firmly repressed it. "Besides, you're still supposed to be on a healthy diet, remember?"

"Beer's very nutritious, you know." Blair was all earnest innocence, and Jim didn't believe it for a minute. "The ancient Egyptians practically lived off of it."

Jim pulled in at a strip mall where he knew there was a good coffee shop. "You see any pyramids around here, Chief? Because I don't."

The rather impressive panelled door opened and a grey haired man poked his head out. "Mr Sandburg?"

Blair started a little at the unexpected use of his surname and then hurriedly stood clutching his folder tightly. "That's me... I mean... yes, sir."

"Please come in." The head disappeared and Blair took a deep breath before crossing the reception area and going through the doorway.

In place of the dark, dusty office he'd expected, was a well-lit study, cheerfully decorated with hand woven drapes and brightly coloured figurines, pots and paintings. Blair felt his eyes going wide with interest. He'd give anything to be allowed to examine all these treasures, but he remembered Jim's advice and focused all his attention on this man who would play a major part in his future.

"Sit down." A casual wave indicated the only chair in the office, other than Professor Matheson's, which had nothing piled on top of it. "You seem to like my little knick-knacks."

"Yes, sir." Blair swallowed and wished with all his heart that he could think of something else to say besides 'yes, sir'.

"Well..." Prof Matheson smiled at him. "How can I help you, Mr Sandburg?"

"I, uh... I sat my ACTs last week and... and I'm hoping to be accepted into the undergraduate program in the Fall." He ran out of air suddenly and fell silent.

"And you want to study Anthropology?"

"Yes, sir. But... well, I haven't been at school for a while and..." Blair bit his lip. Jim had coached him, but he'd completely forgotten how to explain his absence from school. "Well... Larry, in the Admissions Office said maybe I should talk to you first."

"Ah. You're Blair?" A faint frown replaced the smile. "Larry sent me a message about you. Let me see..." The older man rummaged in a tray labelled 'Miscellaneous' which seemed to have more papers in it than all of the others put together. "Here it is. It seems that Larry was most impressed with your practice test results."

The prominent grey eyebrows went up inquiringly and Blair hurriedly held out the folder containing his test marks and the assessment given him by the Education Board. He waited impatiently as Prof Matheson read through the entire contents twice. "Well, if your ACTs live up to the promise of these results, there certainly won't be any difficulty with the academic portion of your application. However..." he consulted the papers again, "you haven't been to school in over three years? Why is that, Blair?"

He found himself wondering why the professor's blue eyes could suddenly seem to look straight through him. "I... ah... I was overseas, sir. There weren't any schools where I was." It had sounded much better when he and Jim had practised it.

To his surprise the professor seemed to accept his words at face value. "I see. But you'd already completed your senior year? At the age of fifteen?"

"Yes, sir. So I thought I'd take a break until I was old enough to go to college." Blair relaxed a little. It might sound pretty unlikely, but at least he'd got it out now.

"Mm." Prof Matheson frowned. "Larry informs me that you're alone in the world. Have you no relatives at all?"

"My... uh, my Dad died, sir, and we'd lost touch with my mother. She travels a lot. I'm trying to find out where she is." Blair smiled tremulously. "I'm staying with a friend of the family right now."

"Well, you certainly seem to have led an adventurous life, for one so young." Smile lines appeared around the professor's eyes, though his face remained impassive, and Blair had the feeling he hadn't believed a word of his story. "But that's not my concern. What does concern me is the amount of time since you last engaged in academic endeavour. Intelligence alone will not get you through your course work. Though, given your test results, you may have difficulty accepting that. You will find the course work here at Ranier considerably more challenging than anything you studied at school."

Blair nodded accommodatingly. He wasn't about to argue right now. "I think I understand, sir."

"I'd recommend you take a few of the summer school classes," Prof Matheson held out a brochure. "Particularly the study skills and time management courses, although the Introduction to Anthropology course would also be very useful. And, as the courses will cost money, I'd also suggest that you apply for one of the part time laboratory assistant positions. It will continue during semester, but you'll find it will provide valuable experience, along with the financial benefits."

"Thank you, sir." Blair managed to gather his wits together enough to take the application form the professor was holding out to him. He smiled his relief. "This is so cool."

"Indeed." Prof Matheson held out his hand, empty this time, and Blair realised he was meant to shake it. "Welcome to Ranier University, Blair. I trust it will be a productive association for us all."

"Blair, come on. What's taking so long?" Jim thumped on the bathroom door for the umpteenth time that morning. Of all the things he found difficult about living with Blair this was the worst. He had to get to work, Blair wasn't due to start his summer school classes at Ranier until next week. Blair had all day, if he wanted, to mess up the bathroom. And that was another thing... "There'd better not be towels all over the floor again."

"Won't be long, Jim." Blair's voice was cheerfully unconcerned. "Five minutes, tops."

"You said that ten minutes ago." Jim thumped the door again, and then changed his mind and pushed it open. "Out. Now."

Blair's eyes met his in the mirror, wide and startled as a deer's for a moment, then dropped to the counter in a distinctly furtive manner. "Aw, come on, man. I said I won't be long."

"What are you doing?" Reacting to Blair's body language rather than his words, Jim's skin began to prickle. He pulled Blair around, checking his eyes first, but they seemed normal. "You're not doing drugs are you?"

"No!" Blair's indignation seemed real enough. He rubbed at his chest with a towel, and Jim caught sight of something white smeared on his skin.

"What is that?" Jim snatched the towel away and wiped a bit of it onto his fingertip. He sniffed it cautiously but all he smelt was his own shaving foam. He glanced at the counter, where a small disposable razor lay among the detritus of Blair's toiletries. "You're shaving your chest?"

Blair didn't respond to Jim's grin. His eyes dropped away to the side, then darted around the room as if seeking inspiration. It was the blatant guilt in his expression that raised Jim's suspicions, even though his behaviour wasn't making any sense right now. "Blair, I don't have time for this. Tell me what you're hiding."

"All right." Blair met his eyes, pouting sulkily. "I'm shaving my chest."

Well, that was very illuminating. Jim prodded a little. "And you have to make a big secret of this because?"

"I thought you wouldn't like it. Johns don't..." Blair fell silent as Jim grabbed his wrist.

"Go on."

Cornered, Blair lifted his chin defiantly. "They don't want a kid with chest hair, okay?"

"No, it's not okay, Chief. Since when have I been a john?" Jim released Blair's slender wrist and walked away, then stopped at the door, his back still turned to Blair. "I'm waiting for an answer."

Silence. Jim turned.

Blair was looking at him with a puzzled frown. "What else would you be? There's only two kinds of people, man. Johns and hustlers."

"You don't really believe that." Jim felt a cold, sick sensation in his belly. "Blair, even that first time, I told you that you didn't have to... I've never paid..."

A look of disdain flickered across Blair's face and was gone. He swept his arm around the bathroom, jerked his head towards the doorway. "What do you think all this is, Jim? You didn't need to give me money."

"So, what are you saying? Sex is just your way of paying the rent?" He took a couple of steps towards Blair and laid his hands on the thin shoulders, just enough to hold him still. "I never asked you to have sex with me. It was your idea, remember?"

Blair shrugged. "What else did you expect from a hustler? I don't see what your problem is, man. You like having sex with me, don't you?"

"I thought it was what you wanted."

"I did, Jim." Blair suddenly grinned at him. "It was great, okay?"

"But..." Jim could feel his grip on the situation slipping. "Blair... do you really think I'm no different from those guys you hustled on the street?"

Blair didn't answer, but he didn't need to. Jim released him and stepped back. "Get out, Blair. I have to get to work."

He rushed through showering and brushing his teeth and headed back upstairs to dress. Blair, dressed in his old clothes from the street, was kneeling by the drawers busily stuffing his remaining clothes into a small backpack. He glanced up at Jim with a nervous smile. "I'm almost done, man."

"Blair, I meant get out of the bathroom, not the building." Jim pulled the boy to his feet. "There isn't time to talk now. We'll deal with this tonight, okay?"

"I don't know, man. This is kinda heavy, you know?" Blair's troubled face turned away from Jim. "I don't need this shit."

"Look, we'll talk. If you still want to leave, I wo