Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's webpage: http://grey.ravenshadow.net/

Title: Public Image
Author: Grey
Email address: [email protected]
Rating: NC-17 for language, extreme violence, rape warning Pairing: J/B
Status: New/complete
Date January 3, 1998
Archive: Yes
Archive e-mail: [email protected]
Series: The Image series
Other website: http://grey.ravenshadow.net/

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Paramount, Pet Fly, and UPN, but as usual the powers that be don't have a clue.

Summary: Jim and Blair are the victims of prejudice and violence brought on by rumors of their relationship being more than just being partners at work.

Warning: This story has a lot of very strong and offensive language. There is disturbing violence, and frankly, it's not for someone who's in the mood for sweet and cozy. There's suffering here, both emotional and physical, so if that's not your cup of tea, you'd better leave now. I am not kidding. If you're squeamish, find something else to read. Now.

Public Image
by Grey

"Queer? Jim Ellison? Who the hell told you that? You're out of your fucking mind."

"Keep your voice down for Chrissakes. The man can hear through walls."

"You're full of shit. Ain't no way Ellison's a fag. Now that hippie kid that he hangs with, he could be."

"Who do you think he fucks? I guarantee it ain't Banks."

"Man, you're crazy. I swear if Ellison hears you talking like this, he's going to beat the shit out of you and I might even laugh when he does."

Blair heard the running water as he stood shivering, trying desperately to go unnoticed in the stall.

"Believe what you want, but I swear I heard Carlson in vice telling his partner that Ellison used to do the gay bars like a pro. Now, he's hanging like a big daddy to Sandburg. I mean, look at the boy. He's a candyass if I ever saw one."

"Ellison used to do undercover at vice, sure, but that don't mean he's gay. I mean, if every guy who had to do the swish patrol was a faggot, we'd be out numbered."

Blair prayed that the two men would finish and leave before they discovered his presence. He already wanted to flush himself down the toilet. Just as he thought he might throw up, he heard the voice he'd identified as Johnson continue, "But you know, I could understand Ellison being tempted down the wrong path. I mean the kid does have quite an ass, not to mention that fuck-me mouth of his."

"Man, we have got to get you a woman."

"You mean to tell me you never even thought about it in that perverted mind of yours?"

"Perverted is the key word there, Johnson. You're scaring me here. Don't even kid about stuff like this. Are you saying you want to fuck Sandburg?"

"Get real, Burt. I didn't say that. Besides even if I did fuck him, I wouldn't kiss him."

"You're crazy."

"Not crazy enough to mess with Ellison's property and expect to live. So, get your head out of your ass, and stop spreading rumors about Ellison. I swear to you if he finds out, he's going to do more than make you scream for your mama. Now, come on. We're late and we don't want people asking why it takes us so fucking long to go the john together now do we, partner."

"Fuck you, Burt."

"Not in this lifetime, pal."

Staying quiet made even his bones quiver. Blair stood so still that he imagined himself evaporating into mist and trailing unnoticed out into the open air, away from the gagging reality of Jim's station house. There was no question that this was Jim's world, but Blair didn't have a clue how he would ever survive the terrors of it.

After taking several cleansing breaths to control the sudden shaking, he cautiously left the stall taking his backpack with him. He looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced at the disappointing sight reflected. Faggot. Yeah, well sure, so what? He'd been called that before, but before it never really mattered much because he knew that people who talked that way were basically ignorant. Plus he had the added cushion of knowing it wasn't true. Now he wasn't so sure. Now there was a very real possibility that he'd fallen for his best friend, a best friend who happened to be a macho cop living in a homophobic, testosterone-driven world where Blair felt about as comfortable as a guppy in a shark tank at feeding time. Damn, he had to get out of here before he lost every meal he'd ever eaten.

Jim's voice caught him just as he'd left the bathroom and swung around the corner to leave the building. "Hey, Sandburg, where you going? We've got that transcript to go over and then there's a meeting with Simon in an hour."

Nervously Blair turned. He avoided eye contact and prayed Jim had his hearing dialed down so that his racing heart wouldn't set off alarms. "I forgot some notes back at my office. Besides you don't need me for the transcript and the deal with Simon is just tying up loose ends. I don't really have to be here for that."

Jim moved closer and placed a relaxed hand on his friend's shoulder. The pounding heart, the accelerated breathing alerted him to the lie. "What's going on, Chief? What's got you frazzled?"

"I've just got a lot of my own stuff to do, Jim. I mean, I don't mind helping on a case if you've got to go out in the field, but you're in the office all day. You're not going to zone on doing reports. You might be lulled into taking a nap, but you're a tough guy. Take your chances. You don't really need me."

"You can't lie to me worth shit, Chief. Might as well come clean and tell me the problem. You know eventually I'll get it out of you. I am a detective after all."

Blair shrugged off Jim's comforting hand afraid others would misread the touch. If he couldn't protect himself, at least he could try to save Jim the embarrassment of having to defend himself for just being friendly.

"How could I forget that, Mr. Cop of the Year? It's nothing. I just really need to get some forms filled out for school. I've got at least three grant papers due by next week along with an application for an extension on my dissertation."

Cocking his head in interest, Jim teased, "So, the stalling has consequences, huh?"

"It's no big deal. A lot of people have to get extended deadlines. I mean, it's not like I've had much time to actually work on research lately."

Jim tried to launch another sympathetic touch only to have it rebuffed as his friend continued. "So, like I really need to skip out of here today, man." Blair's little dance of shifting from foot to foot whenever he was nervous, or lying, intensified.

"Okay, Chief, go on for now, but I think we ought to talk some more tonight. I get the feeling you're not telling me some things here."

"Sure, we'll talk later. Whatever you say, but I'm really just busy." Not even bothering with the elevator, Blair made a dash to the stairs as he called back. "Don't wait up. I've got a couple of late meetings with students and if I'm lucky, I might even have a date."

"I thought you were too busy, Chief?"

"I'm never too busy for love, Jim. Later."

With a quick slam of the fire exit door, Jim felt like he'd suddenly been hustled.

He relished the security he found in the fact that Blair always returned to his rightful place at the loft. Smiling smugly to himself, Jim turned and headed back to the bull pen. Once there, his complacent heart took a direct hit.

Detectives Young and Johnson swaggered in his direction just as Jim rounded the corner to check with Simon about the duty roster for the next stake out on the Dexter house. Jim stopped short when he noticed Young nudge his partner slyly and nod in his direction. The jerks looked like they were having way too much fun at his expense. "Hey, Young. Johnson. What brings you to major crimes? Travis decide to let you two out of your cages for the day?"

"Sure, Ellison. We thought we'd come over for a show. By the way, Carlson in vice sends his regards. Says he could still use a guy like you on his team." Johnson looked nervously over at his partner wondering if he'd lost his mind. Nobody baited Ellison and survived for long.

Steely eyes locked on target. "Talk straight, Young. What's your point?"

"Well, straight's an interesting choice of words ain't it? Hey, by the way, where's that pretty thing that's usually attached to your ass, Ellison? What's his name again? Butt-buddy Blair is it? I'll bet he's worn out, but getting ready to be ridden again in that cozy loft you two share?"

"Jesus Christ, Burt, are you just fucking stupid or suicidal?" Johnson literally stepped as far away from his partner as he could, trying to distance himself from the nuclear blast he expected at any moment.

Instead Jim's tight voice barely whispered, "What did you just say?"

"You heard me, Ellison. I think you and your cute friend are shacked up and it makes me want to puke. How can you call yourself a cop and do that kind of shit?"

Neither man noticed Simon Banks standing in his doorway until he yelled, "Young. Ellison. In my office now. You, too, Johnson."

Jim could barely breath. He suffered like razors the words thrown at him, words filled with a vehement hatred for both himself and his guide. Roaring blood engorged the inner ear and muffled not only his ability to hear, but to speak or reason. Shaking his head, he tried valiantly to avoid a zone-out. Standing dangerously quiet by his captain's desk, Simon's voice blanketed the thunder and allowed the dazed Sentinel to understand words again.

"I think that's enough, Detective Young. I think that's more than enough."

Young fired back. "Sir, with all due respect, this is between Ellison and myself."

"Not when it's in my bull pen, in front of my people. Then, detective, it's my business. I want you out of here now and don't think Captain Travis isn't going to hear about this."

Young snorted. "I'm sure he already knows, sir. The whole station knows about those two."

"I'm not referring to my detective and his partner. I'm referring to your outrageous, totally unprofessional, and unprovoked verbal attack on two of my men." Simon motioned with an gesture of absolute closure. "That's the end of what I want to hear from you at this moment. Captain Travis and I will decide what action to take. However, I want it absolutely clear that this sort of behavior will not, I repeat, will not be tolerated in this station. Do I you fully understand me on this, Detective Young?"

Knowing he'd lost the battle, Johnson just grunted as he started to leave. "Excuse me, Detective. Did you answer my question? Detective Johnson, did your partner just answer me with an animal sound or is he intentionally asking to be suspended?"

"Answer the captain, Burt, and stop being such an ass."

Young whirled on his partner, "What? Are you taking his side now?"

"Burt, I'm your partner, but you're way off base on this. Just answer the Captain so we can get out of here and do our jobs while you still have one."

Young turned back to Simon, refusing to even look at Jim. "I'm sorry, Captain Banks. I do understand what you've told me. May I leave now, sir?"

"Don't come back this way unless you've got an order to so, Young. If I catch you harassing any of my people, and that includes police observer Sandburg, you will suffer the consequences. Now get out of my sight."

Young and Johnson made a hasty retreat and shut the door before Captain Banks could take off another layer of skin. Through the wall Jim heard the two muttering to one another.

"Damn faggots are taking over the fucking world. I hate queers."

"Burt, you're going to get yourself suspended if you don't shut up. You don't even know for sure and even if you did, so what? Gays have rights now. Besides Ellison's a stand up guy. What's your problem anyway?"

"My problem is that faggot-assed Jew partner of his. If it weren't for him, none of this would be going on. Somebody ought to do something about queers like him who go around fucking with decent people's morals."

"Just shut the fuck up, Burt. Let's get out of here before Banks comes out to chew your sorry ass again."

Jim cringed back from the force of sheer loathing that compelled the words. Fear soaked down through his skin and he worried for his guide's safety. Only this time the danger didn't come from some half-crazed criminal but from the most deadly source of all, a well-trained, well-armed Nazi cop.

"Hey, Jim, are you in there, buddy? I really hate it when you do this. Where's Sandburg when I need him?"

Jim barely heard the words from a distance, but responded instead to the insistent tugging on his sleeve. Taking a deep breath as he reoriented himself, he finally turned his clear blue eyes to meet the dark concerned stare of his friend and Captain.

"Sorry, Simon. That all kind of caught me off guard. I didn't even see it coming. Must be losing my touch."

"As long as it's not your mind. Besides, nobody can be prepared for being sucker-punched with shit like that. What bothers me more is how you seemed to have a zone-out problem there."

"I was listening to those bozos when they left. Young is real trouble."

"No kidding. The guy's a major asshole.

"A major asshole with a lot of hate and anger and a big mouth. Not a great combination. What did Blair ever do to him that he would hate him so much?"

"Young doesn't like anybody who doesn't fit what he thinks a cop ought to be."

"But Blair's not a cop."

"But he hangs with cops and he goes out in the field. Guy's like Young are old school. They don't deal with change very well. They see guys like Sandburg more like the guys they used to throw in jail, not work with."

"He's entitled to his opinions, regardless of how bigoted they are, but Simon, Young has no business being a cop if he can't control himself. He was really out of it."

"He may have been out of line, but I don't know about out of control. I am going to call Travis and ask for an official reprimand."

"That will certainly endear him."

After pacing a few moments, Jim asked, "About what he said, do you think others around here believe that?"

"Believe what, Jim? Young talked a lot of trash. Which part do you want to discuss first?"

"I guess the part about Blair and me being lovers. Do you think many people around here actually believe that? Do they really go around saying we're gay?"

"I'm sure there are going to be a few who might think that, but so what? What's between you and Blair is your business?"

Jim pulled back and studied Simon as though he'd never seen the man before. "Do you believe it?"

"Jim, it doesn't matter what I believe."

"Simon, Blair is my best friend but we're not sleeping together. I can't believe you'd actually imagine it?"

"Why not? Let's face it, Jim. Sandburg is a pretty man. He's young and lively and, though he's not my type, he certainly can turn a few heads. Add to that how much he's influenced how you behave. Now, don't take this the wrong way, but you used to be a downright morose and difficult bastard. When you're around Blair, you're a different person. Hell, some days when Sandburg's jabbering away and putting on one of his shows, you're almost congenial. Surprised the shit out of me I can tell you."

"You're making me crazy here, Simon Blair's dated half the women at the station and another couple of dozen at the university. He's straight. As for me, I was married for chrissakes. Last time I checked, Carolyn was still a woman."

"What difference does it make if people gossip, Jim? It shouldn't bother you. I've never known you to be biased against anyone because of sexual preference anyway. So what if they think you're screwing your partner? They're probably jealous you have a sex life with a somebody who wouldn't give them the time of day. As long as you know the truth and people don't harass you about it, it should be okay."

"Well, it's not okay, Simon. Granted it's no one's concern what I do in my private life, but this kind of rumor could hurt Blair's position at the university and there are unfortunately more cops with feelings closer to Young's than to either of ours."

"Things are changing."

"Not that much. Face it, Simon. Most people give lip service to the notion that gay is okay, but they don't really believe it. The disgust has just gone underground because it's no longer politically correct. People can't legally get away with as much as they used to. Then there are still Neanderthal's like Young who don't even bother to hide the revulsion they feel for homosexuals."

"But at least things are turning around a little bit. It's like any civil rights movement. It's the individuals that make the changes."

"I know, but, god, this pisses me off. I don't much care what people think about me outside of being a good cop, but I worry about Blair when it comes to incidents like this. He doesn't do confrontation worth shit."

"Yeah, he's a sprinter alright. Ought to call the kid Runaway Sandburg. Speaking of which, where is he? I thought he was supposed to be here this afternoon so we could close out the Anderson case file."

"Oh shit, Simon.'"

"What?"

"I saw Sandburg come out of the restroom just before I got to the bullpen. Damn it. He said he just had a lot to do at the university, but I knew there was something wrong. I'll bet those two said something to him or he overhead them talking. Why else would he streak out here like his hair was on fire."

"Are you sure, Jim? Maybe he really did have some other work to do, after all he does have two jobs."

"I've got to go, Simon. I've got to talk to him and find out what really happened. I've got to make this okay." Before Simon could say much, Jim had already made it to the exit.

Sucking on his stogie, Simon thought to himself, the only way to make this right would be to marry the kid and get it over with, but we both know that ain't going to happen.

Turning back to his office, he shut the door and prayed that Blair had been saved from Young's poison, though he doubted it. Then he figured he might as well pray for the strength he would need if anything happened to the kid. He knew he'd never be able to handle a pissed off sentinel without a supreme intervention, and even then he didn't know if he'd have enough faith to carry it off. Damn, why can't people just get along.

Faggot....Candyass.....Queer...

The words spun in his head over and over making him dizzy. The power and hatred behind them stung like a thousand bee stings swelling his brain into a soggy mess.

Blair paced and muttered and then decided it was a waste of time to even try to work in his office. He needed to walk, to run, to fly to the moon, anything but face the fact that people hated him. People who barely knew him, but who judged on appearance alone, talked about him in the most revolting way. Worse than that, they talked about Jim being tainted by his presence.

Confusion made him bleary as he tried to decide what to do--run or stay. On the one hand, Jim still needed guidance. His zone outs didn't happen as often, but still ambushed him at the most unexpected, and dangerous times. No, he couldn't just abandon him. By the same token, if he stayed, things could get a lot worse. Rumors could destroy a career like Jim's. More importantly, they could be deadly. How many times had a gay cop, real or believed, been killed when fellow officers slowed their back-up time? Officially none, but everyone knew the truth. It happened.

Cold sweat coated Blair's skin and he wrapped his arms around himself to try to keep from shaking apart. He had no idea what to do. He just knew he had to do something to protect Jim. If that meant moving out of the loft, then he'd do it. The thought of leaving the place he'd come to view as home brought another sting to his already swollen heart. For the first time in his life he'd felt like he actually had a home. The warmth and safety that living with Jim gave him made him see how much he'd craved permanence. Despite his protest that the gypsy life ruled, he knew that now, being with Jim made him happy. Or it had until the dark force of prejudice showed its ugly face.

The knock startled him. "Blair! You in there?"

Jim's banging got louder. As he prepared for another shout, Blair opened the door. "Hey, Jim."

"Thank god, Chief. Where have you been?"

"I told you I was coming here."

"Yeah, but I kept calling on the cell phone and I couldn't get an answer. Your car's not in the lot. What's going on? I was worried about you."

Blair turned away, hoping his friend couldn't see the strain he felt. "I left the cell at the loft. The car's over on the other side of campus. I needed to take a walk."

"Blair, look at me. Tell me what happened."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Heartbeats raced a marathon.

"I think you do. Did you by any chance talk to Burt Young today?"

"No, I didn't talk to him." Rapid breathing, increased blood pressure blasted over to Jim's senses.

"Did you see him then?"

"No, I didn't see him either. Why are you asking about Young?" Blair's vitals rocketed into the stratosphere. He still refused to turn around.

"Chief, listen to me. I ran in to Young today and he was spouting off some of the most vile things I've heard in awhile, things that were directed at you and at me. Now, I need to know if he threatened you in some way. I need you to be honest with me."

Barely able to breath, Blair sat down heavily in the chair, which was a real hoot since he felt lighter than mist. "Jim, people like Young aren't worth the trouble."

"So, you did see him."

"No, but I heard him talking. He and his partner were in the restroom. I was able to hide out of it until they left."

Blair pale features scared him. He moved closer and placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. The contact blazed his fingertips, but he held on. "Chief, I need to know what you heard. I need to know if you're safe."

With a weak snort, the young man shook his head. "Safe from what, Jim? Hatred, prejudice, ignorance? Haven't you ever heard about sticks and stones?"

"Yeah, I've heard of them and I've seen what they can do in the wrong hands. Young is trouble. I don't know why he thinks we're gay, but it doesn't really matter. The problem is that he's the kind of guy who might act on his hate."

A chill froze his flesh and then deepened to the bone. "You're afraid of Young?"

"Hell, yeah, I'm afraid of him. I've seen his kind before. There's something in the tone. There are those who talk their trash and that's all they do, just spreading their hate and their lies. Then there are those like Burt Young who actually think they have the right to do harm. The really scary part is he's a cop which means he can get away with more than most of the fools that feel that way. So, yeah, I'm scared."

"Fuck."

"Glad to hear your college years weren't wasted, Sandburg."

"Jim, if you're afraid of this man, what's a guy like me supposed to do?"

"Well, for one thing, you've got to tell me when things happen and not go off half-cocked running around like everything's just fine. I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

"I'm sorry. It just caught me by surprise."

"No shit. Me, too."

"It'd been a long time since I've had to deal with anything like this. I got cozy."

"What are you talking about, Sandburg? Has Young done this before and you didn't tell me?"

"Young is not alone in his battle against people like me?" "People like you? You're losing me here, Chief."

"Jim, I'm a Jew. I'm small for a man. I have long hair. I wear ear rings and, let's face it, some people just assume things."

Slow awareness claimed his disturbed features. "I'm sorry. I never thought about it. It never occurred to me that you've had to face prejudice before."

"It doesn't matter. You get used to it. It's the way things are and you deal with it."

"But you shouldn't have to."

"Nobody should."

A long moment of silence weighed heavy between the two friends. Suddenly self-conscious of his nearness and his touch, Jim backed away to a safer distance. Blair's breathing and heartbeat settled to a more reasonable rate.

"So, Chief, what exactly did you hear him say?"

"I don't really want to repeat it. No doubt you got the gist of it when he confronted you, which by the way is unbelievable in itself. Guy really must be fucking nuts."

"My point, Chief. I'm not saying that I don't get my share of face-offs, but usually my reputation protects me from everyone who has any sense. I guess that's why I'm so concerned about what he might do."

"He's already spreading rumors."

"Yeah, well, they're just rumors. We both know they're not true."

Blair looked quickly away and his heart beat took off around the home stretch again.

Jim crossed his arms and backed against the wall, realization a shock. Softly he asked, "Blair, they're not true are they? I mean, you're not gay, right?"

The young man before him refused to meet his gaze. A shiver ran through him as Blair tried to keep his voice even to speak. "I could have said that truthfully a few months ago, Jim. I can still tell you I'm not gay, not exactly anyway, maybe more like bi. To people like Young there's no difference, like it's any of their fucking business."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen. It just did. I mean I've never known anybody like you before. We spend so much time together and you treat me so special, always touching me and talking to me like my opinion really counts. It's like when I'm with you my life has some sort of significance it never had before. I can't explain it."

Bashfully Blair moved uneasily in his seat struggling to find the right words. He took Jim's silence as a command to continue. "I've started having feelings for you that go beyond just being friends. Before you say anything, I want you to know that I don't expect you to feel the same way. I know you care for me like a good friend, but not in any romantic sense. I just didn't want you to ever find out, especially because of a prick like Young."

"Why wouldn't you want me to know?"

"I didn't want it to change things between us."

Stunned by the admission, Jim stood stone still. Blair glanced over to check for a zone out. Instead he saw a slight misting of the blue eyes. "Jesus, Chief. This is the second time today I've been sucker punched. I'm beginning to wonder if I even have a clue about anything."

"I'm sorry. I'll be out of the loft as soon as I can find another place."

"There you go again. You're always running away without giving me a chance."

"A chance to do what, get hurt by that asshole Young? As long as I'm staying with you, he's going to believe you're gay. If I move out, he won't have any ammunition to use against you."

"Like that man worries about reality. He's the kind of guy who makes up his own little world and decides to design it as some kind of half-ass dream of all white and black, everybody fitting a role. He gets pissed because we shake it up too much. That's why he so fucking dangerous. He really believes what he's spewing."

"All the more reason for me to leave."

"Come on, don't be like that. You're not moving out of the loft because of this thing with Young. If you move out, it'll be because you want to. Right now I want you to stay."

"You're not pissed off?"

"I'm not pissed off. Confused a little, but that's because there's too much going on here at once. Dealing with a bigot is one thing. Finding out that your best friend has a crush on you, well, that I'm not ready to deal with yet."

"It's more than a crush."

Jim shifted uneasily, but kept his eyes steady as he spoke to his guide. "Look, I don't know what to say to you about that right now. My main concern is that I have this gut feeling that Young is dangerous and I want to make sure that you're safe."

"What are you going to do?"

"One thing is to make sure you keep up with your damn cell phone. I'll duct tape it to your chest if I have to. I want you to be extra cautious. Don't go anywhere alone if you don't have to. I don't think he'll try anything at the loft, but just be careful. As for when you're at the station, try to stick closer to me, Simon, or one of the guys we trust so he won't have any opportunity for a confrontation."

"Jim, he's a cop. Sure he's an asshole and a bigot, but he's still a cop. Do you really think he may actually try to do something besides run his mouth?"

Steady ice blue eyes unnerved his friend. "Yeah, I do, Chief. I can't explain it, but I'm almost sure of it. The way he was going on and on today despite all reason, made me think he's over the edge. As for him being a cop, I guess that's really why I think he's so fucking dangerous. He strikes me as major vigilante material and his particular crusade involves clearing out anyone he happens to think is gay."

"Including another cop?"

"Especially another cop, and especially the cop's best friend, a friend he blames for leading the cop astray."

"Fuck"

"You said it, Chief."

Much to Blair's amazement the next week went by pretty much like every other week he'd spent as a police observer. He worked at the university and with Jim. Paperwork, stakeout, sessions in the bull pen and field work filled his time so he didn't have to dwell on the ugliness that had blemished his life such a short time ago.

Jim and Simon took every precaution to keep him safe, but other than that, everything remained the same. By Saturday night Blair wanted to let out a banshee scream and run naked in the moonlight.

"What's your problem, Sandburg? You're pacing like you've got another lizard in your pants."

"Oh, that is so not funny, Jim."

"So, what's bugging you?" The older man took another drink as he watched his nervous companion with amusement. He loved his guide's incredible capacity for sheer energy and force of will.

Combing an anxious hand through his thick curls, Blair momentarily considered his words before finally speaking. "I'm just wondering how I could figure you so entirely wrong."

"I don't get you, Chief."

"Last week I confessed that I had feelings for you. I figured you'd toss my ass out or at the very least, get a little upset, be uncomfortable, avoid me, something. Instead all you've done is say you can't deal with it and go on like I said we need to pick up laundry."

"And you have a problem with my reaction?"

"I'm having trouble figuring out how I could have missed this aspect of your personality."

Puzzled, Jim tilted his head and asked, "You're losing me."

"When you can't handle something, like this situation between us, you go into this sort of it just didn't happen mode. You block it out."

"Listen, Chief, I'm not ignoring what you said. I heard you loud and clear, but this Young thing has distracted me. Besides, what exactly do you want me to say? How am I supposed to react to this revelation?"

"That's just it. I want you to tell me what you really feel. Are you disgusted, turned on, totally without feeling? What?"

Jim remained quiet and then sat down on the couch still holding his beer. As he spoke, his voice contained a distant quality. "You know, I've been thinking about this. I'm a little lost because I've never been in this situation before."

"And I have? You're the first real friend I've ever had, Jim, and certainly the first man I've ever thought about when it comes to love and sex."

"Jesus, Blair, wait up. Let me finish."

"Sorry, man. Go ahead."

"You know how I hate not to know the territory. I like a plan, a strategy, to know how everything fits. I like an orderly house. You call it anal. I call it being prepared. But, I have to tell you, nothing has ever prepared me for this. You are my best friend ever. Don't let it go to your head, but I really like having you around. My skin tingles when you touch it. My mind flashes neon and rainbow when I see you smile. You smell like my grandfather's spring meadow after a rainstorm. Just thinking about listening to you speak can turn my muscles to melted putty and bring on a goofy grin. You saved my sanity when I thought I was lost. What can I say, Chief? I really don't want to lose you."

"Gee, those are really cool things to say, Jim, but I'm still not sure what you're really saying."

"I can't promise that my feelings will ever include romance, but I do know that I want you to stay here, to be my guide, and my best friend. It matters to me that you've got these desires, but I just don't know what to do about it. I don't want to hurt your feeelings. Tell me what I need to say to keep you with me, Chief?"

Blair sat down on the sofa's armrest and shook his head. "You don't have to worry about me leaving, Jim. Unless you tell me to go, I plan to stay right here. I just don't want you to treat me any differently or be uncomfortable knowing that I really would like to kiss you someday."

Jim Ellison blushed scarlet. "Do me a favor, Chief. Keep the details of your fantasies under wraps awhile longer. Those kind of comments I am definitely not ready to handle. Otherwise, I guess I'm selfish enough to want to keep on with things as they were. Think you can stand being around the old guy without putting the moves on."

Blair dropped his jaw and then snapped it shut when he saw the curl of the lip as Jim started laughing out loud. "Cute, Jim. Make fun of the bi guy."

"You're just so easy."

"Well, I try."

As he turned to go to his room, Blair totally missed the hungry stare that followed his every move. Jim mentally slapped himself for thinking that Sandburg had the hottest ass in town and it belonged to him. A puff of wonder powdered his brain as he tried decide how he was going to manage to keep the secret without anyone, including Blair, from finding out.

He felt like such a hypocrite. Big, strong honest Jim Ellison in love with his same sex partner. Jesus, how did that happen? The thought of being with another man wasn't alien to his dreams, but the actual possiblity of acting on those thoughts, made him itch with a lurking, barely controlled lust. He got up, disgusted with his own duplicity and indecision. The fear of public exposure terrified him, but losing his guide scared him more. What a fucking coward. Blair deserved better. Headache pounding like the drums on one Sandburg's earth music CD's, Jim got up for another beer and then another and another.

Which is why when Blair got up Sunday morning, he found his usually upright, sober buddy leaning over the toilet puking his guts out. The painful rounds of retching filled the loft. Blair didn't need to be a sentinel to smell rancid, recycled beer as it permeated the air.

"Hey, man, are you okay?"

Stomach finally emptied, Jim continued to dry heave. Blair fetched a damp cloth and as soon as Jim finally finished, he handed it to his sickly friend. "God, Chief, why'd you let me drink so much?"

"Me? I went to bed early, remember." True concern broke the teasing tone, when Jim jerked forward and started vomiting again. This time he produced a stream of stringy bile. Blair tried a calming tone and rubbing his back soothingly with very little success. Eventually, Jim did settle down. He let himself slide to the floor, knees up, wash cloth to his mouth. His eyes sqeezed shut to block out the feeble rays of morning.

Blair hated seeing his friend suffer, but seemed helpless to do anything but watch.

After several minutes of just sitting there, Jim mumbled, "I thought I was over being so fucking dumb."

"Dumb about what, man?"

"I know better than to drink that much."

"How much did you actually drink anyway?"

"You don't want to know."

"Come on. All I have to do is count the bottles."

"Then go to it. Right now, I'm just going to sit here awhile unless you need to get in here right away. Frankly, I'm afraid to move until my stomach stops trying to make a run for it."

"It's okay. Just stay there. I've got this nice herbal tea that's supposed to work for hangovers. I'll get some for you."

"No, thanks. I just need to rest for a little bit. I'm sure I'll be okay by Christmas."

Despite his friend's miserable condition, Blair couldn't help but grin. "It's only October."

"Your point?"

"No point, Jim. I'll leave you alone now."

"Thanks, Chief."

"I haven't done anything."

"For being here. Thanks."

A softness came over him. "I wouldn't be anywhere else. Call me if you want something."

Blair went into the kitchen and decided to brew up his remedy. Even if Jim protested right now, he might want it later. Better yet, he could get him his favorite addiction, strong coffee. Checking out the cabinet, he discovered that none of the stuff could be found anywhere. No way was he going to bother Jim about it. He grabbed his shoes, his wallet and headed out the door to the corner store.

The back way was quicker, but just as he rounded the corner of the building, Blair found himself grabbed from behind. His head jerked back by the hair, as an arm snaked around his throat. There was a gun to his head.

"Don't move or this bullet will find a new home."

Barely able to speak, Blair managed, "Come on, Young. Don't be stupid. Let me go."

A yank brought tears to his eyes as the man swung him around and slammed him face first into the stone wall. Blood spurted from his split lip and smeared the rough surface. His arms suddenly became latched in cuffs behind his back. Young pushed his whole body against his victim. Blair trembled in fear when he realized there was no mistaking the aroused conditon pressing him forward.

"Shut the fuck up. You're going to get hurt, Sandburg. No doubt about it and there's nothing you can do to stop it. All you can do is help determine how bad it's going to be."

Trying desperately to think of a way to signal, Jim, he stalled for time. "What do want me to do?"

Leaning in, still forcing himself up against Blair, Young whispered, "You're going to get into my van. You're not going to struggle or yell. If you do, then I'll still get you in the van anyway, but I can promise you the beating you're going to take will be a whole lot worse."

While he spoke, Young was rhythmicaly rocking against him, jabbing in against his buttocks to emphasize his dominance. "Now what's it going to be, sweet thing?"

"Jim is going to kill you when he finds out."

A lewd laugh, tickled his ear. "Yeah, he's going to try, pretty boy, but you see," pushing against him harder, Young continued with a low chuckle, "that's what I'm counting on."

Crawling under a rock would be too easy. He wanted to curl up and fall back into complete oblivion and finish drowning in self-pity. Jim Ellison suffered with the grandpappy of all hangovers and the pain dial was nowhere to be found. God, his head hurt.

He finally gave up and decided to plead for forgiveness and let Blair tell him how to turn down the pain. "Hey, Chief?"

Ringing suddenly blasted from the other room sending the sentinel into a maelstrom of agony. Waves of nausea from the reverberations of sound struck him over and over. Struggling, he forced himself up off the floor and weaved his way to answer the phone. He managed to turn down his sense of sound enough to answer without having his ear drums bleed.

"Jim, it's Simon."

Immediately alarmed by his captain's voice, the alcohol glaze to his vision cleared dramatically. "What's going on?"

"Just got a call from Travis. He said that Young's partner called to tell him he was worried about him."

"Tell me exactly what happened, Simon."

"Friday, Travis offered Young a choice, either an official reprimand that would go in his permanent file or go to counseling."

"I'll bet that went over like a ton of shit."

"No doubt. Anyway, he gave Young until Monday to decide. Johnson called because he said he was worried that Young might do something."

Terror gripped his arms. "Did he say what that might be?"

"Is Blair with you there right now?"

"Of course, he is. He was just here. Hang on." Holding the phone away from his face, he shouted out, "Hey, Chief, get in here. We have to talk."

After a few seconds of silence, panic set in. Jim dialed up his sense of hearing again and tried to find any trace of his companion. Nothing. "Shit, Captain, Blair's not here."

"What do you mean he's not there?"

"I don't know, Simon. He must have gone out. He's probably gone to get danish or something. Son of a bitch. Tell me what Johnson said."

"You've got to find Blair, Jim. Don't let him out of your sight. There's an APB out on Young right now."

"Tell me, Simon." His voice barely fit between his clenched teeth.

"I'm not going to repeat the exact words, but suffice it to say he's threatened to beat and possibly kill him. Johnson sounded pretty shook up. Said there was no reasoning with him."

"Fuck Johnson. He should've done something before now. He should've arrested the bastard himself."

"I agree, but keep in mind the two have been partners for ten years. It's hard to turn in your partner."

"Don't defend him to me, Simon. I'm going to go find Blair. I'll call as soon as I have anything to tell. Let me know just as soon as you've got the son of a bitch in custody."

"You've got it."

His mind swimming in bloody scenarios, Jim could barely find and put on his shoes. Muscles still screamed from the earlier abuse, but he sat for a moment and shook his head trying frantically to clear his thoughts. Panic served no purpose but to make the situation more dangerous. Taking the deep breaths that Blair had taught him, he realized with absolute clarity that his sole purpose was to protect his guide.

Standing, newly determined, he headed out and quickly went to the back of the building. Thick air marked the scent trail and Jim traced the path of his friend. The sudden sharp tang of copper stopped him and he immediately recognized the blotch that darkened the building's edge. Blair's blood stood out and tackled him. He recognized the danger of the zone as he reached out to touch the evidence of his friend's assault. Forcing himself to look elsewhere, he jerked his hand away. Scanning the scene, he saw Blair's wallet left dropped on the ground. Beside it were his keys wrapped in some type of paper.

Kneeling down he retrieved them both. Unfolding the paper, he read: Sandburg's waiting, Ellison. Come alone and maybe I can save you. Bring the others and the faggot dies. A fellow officer. The address of a mountain cabin at least an hour away followed the scrawled message. Air failed to reach his lungs and all light narrowed to a slender space.

The cell phone rang before he had an opportunity to fully list all the possible, most painful, ways he could kill Burt Young.

Sun poked red hot fingers at his eyeballs sending spasms down the back of his sockets into his throat. Whatever Young had given him, had not only knocked him out, but carried a powerful, agonizing kick on waking. Eyes still squeezed shut, Blair pulled his knees up to curl himself into a tight, naked ball on the rough mattress. Icy sweat chilled his skin. Fire in his shoulders hammered home the fact that his hands remained cuffed behind him. In addition, swallowing took an evil turn. Something tugged tightly and cut at his neck.

"You awake yet, Sandburg?" The kick came without warning and jarred he bed. "Your friend may be here pretty soon. We want to be ready."

Working up the control to speak, his voice came out in a raspy croak. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why? A candyass like you has to ask why I find your presence an abomination on the earth? It's people like you that have destroyed the decency in the world. If somebody like Ellison can be lured by your filthy ways, what can the rest of us do? Well, I'm sick of it. You're going to pay for what the likes of you have done."

Blair tried shifting on the bed, but found himself strangled by the collar closing off his air. Gasping, he tried to move up to relieve the pressure. Young grabbed his throat. "Hold still. I don't want you choking to death before I'm done with you."

The constriction stopped, but Young didn't move away. A hand slowly stroked his hair, and then ran fingers through it. A sudden jerk brought his face close to the man who now sat on the edge of the bed.

A round, pock-marked face with blood-shot blue eyes stared at him with both hatred and lust. The thin mouth twisted in a cruel smile and dried spittle flaked at the edge. Cigarette smoke impregnated the wrinkled gray suit. The sandpaper hand touching his face, rubbed roughly against his unshaven cheek. The other hand moved across to Blair's chest and fondled the silver nipple-ring.

"Look at this. Fairy likes to decorate his tit." He tugged it and grinned at the groan. "Bet it'd hurt like a son of a bitch if I happened to get careless." Pulling harder, he asked, "Ellison ever get carried away, Sandburg. Your cop ever bite a little too hard and lose control?" Yanking it again, he insisted, "Answer me you queer."

"Jim's my friend. We don't sleep together."

Young ripped out the ring. While Blair was busy howling in pain, trying not to choke himself again, Young laughed, "Yeah, pull the other one, Sandburg. Lie to me again and you don't want to know what I'm going to pull off."

Blood ran down and soaked into the thin, sheetless pad. Ignoring the mess, Young stayed seated. Blair couldn't stop the tears from falling. "Look at this. A candyass and a crybaby, too." Snorting in disgust, he brutally massaged his captive's hip. Then he used one hand to pull Blair forward and the other one to control the tension of the collar and rope holding him to the bed. He stroked the smooth skin and whistled, "I have to admit, you've got a better ass than most women I've seen. Is that why Ellison fell for you?"

Powerless, Blair could barely breathe. He seriously needed Jim to show up, because the thought of what was actually happening completely numbed his ability to speak or think.

A rough hand snaked down between his legs while the other one pushed the side of his face firmly down. As two dry fingers roughly entered him, he muffled his scream into the bed.

"Come on, Sandburg. Give a guy a little encouragement. I mean, if you're pretending to be a bitch, you might as well fake loving it like all the other whores."

After a few minutes of vicious finger-fucking, he finally stopped. Young coughed, then spit, before moving around to get a better position. Forcing Blair's knees up under him to raise his rear higher, Young shoved his four fingers at the already bleeding opening. Unable to move away, Blair heart-wrenching wails echoed through the cabin. They grew louder when the whole hand made a fist and rammed inside of him. Fire flashed through his bowels and urine sprayed the bed.

Young abruptly stopped what he was doing and withdrew his arm from the punishing attack. He jumped up and moved over to the sink. "Shit! Fucking queer pissed all over me."

Blair collapsed, blood running down between his thighs. He lay quietly while his stomach cramped and turned to an icy hot blaze. He watched Young's frenzied attempts to wash himself and his hand but they faded from his sight. Slowly, ignoring the agony, he slid down to tighten the collar around his neck. His air lessened and as blackness swallowed his pain, he prayed that Jim would not be the one to find him, but like so many of late, it was a useless prayer.

Captain Banks, four police cruisers, an ambulance, and an enraged sentinel gathered just out of normal visual range of the cabin. Just as Simon started to coordinate the teams, Jim stopped all movement. "Jesus. I've got to go. Blair's dying." The last words flew in the wind as Jim raised his gun and headed toward the cabin.

Having no doubt to Jim's estimation of the situation, Banks didn't even try to try to stop him. Instead he hurried his efforts for the assault and hoped to god that Jim made it in time.

Jim, like a stealthy cat, assessed the exact location of Young and Blair inside the room. Reduced breathing, heart beat, and blood pressure all signaled his guides immediate danger. Breaking down the door with adrenalin-rich strength surprised Young, but not enough to keep him from going for his gun. Before the older detective even had a chance to raise his weapon, Jim put a bullet dead center in his heart and another through his forehead. Detective Burt Young died before hitting the floor.

Blinking only once to acknowledge his enemy's total lack of vitals, he turned to find his friend in a bloody heap on the bed. Unprepared for the sight, he gagged on the overwhelming smell of blood and urine. Forcing himself forward, his immediately removed the choking collar. He gently placed a finger to his neck and felt the weak pounding of the stubborn heart beat.

Simon walked in behind Ellison to find Young dead and his detective kneeling beside his friend.

Brown came up behind him, "Jesus, Captain. Look at this."

"I see it. Get the EMT's in here on the double." His stomach lurched in rebellion to the sight of Blair Sandburg's battered body. He reached over and placed hand on Jim's shoulder. "Come on, Jim. Let the medics take over."

"No one is going to fucking touch him, Simon. I mean it." Protectively Jim wrapped his arms around his unconscious guide as he buried his face against the bloody chest. "Come on, Chief. Wake up now. I'm here. I'm going to take care of this. It's going to be okay."

The team pushed in trying to get past the almost hysterical man, rocked the victim in his arms. "Get the fuck away. I'll take care of him."

"Jim, come on. Settle down. You're not doing yourself or Sandburg any good acting like this. You can't help him. Let these men do their jobs. Blair needs to go to the hospital right away."

Like a sleepwalker first waking from a dream, Jim appeared to hear Simon for the first time. "Hospital?"

Taking advantage of the lull in powerful emotion, he carefully edged Jim out of the way, backing him up to the wall. Jim never let his sight wander from Blair's body. He suddenly became very still, his vision fixed.

"Oh shit Jim, don't zone on me here." The commotion of the medical team alerted him to just how bad off Blair could be. Huge tears formed and flowed down Jim's cheeks.

"Simon, how could anybody do this? How could he hurt somebody as good and kind as Blair. I just don't understand."

"I can't answer that, Jim. There is no answer. The bastard was crazy. Let that part go. Now we have to worry about damage control. So, get yourself straight. I need you able to deal with this, and I'm not going to bullshit you here. We both know this is going to be rough for the kid. He's going to need you on top of things, on top of your own feelings."

Jim nodded. "I'm sorry. I lost it for a minute, but I'm okay now."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, sir, I'm sure." Jim walked over to the med team leader just as they were moving Blair out to the ambulance. "What's his condition?"

Pale and serious brown eyes met his. The young man whispered, "We're transporting at quickly as we can, detective. He's lost a lot of blood with internal hemorrhaging. We're trying to stop the bleeding, but there's shock and vitals are unstable. We're doing everything we can. Excuse me, but we have to go."
The sentinel moved out the way and watched as they rolled the stretcher with Sandburg's still unconscious form out to the ambulance. Then he glanced over at Young's corpse. "Damn, I wish I could shoot the sick fuck over again."

"Wouldn't do any good."

"I know that, but it doesn't lessen the hate I feel for him. I'm being swallowed alive by this, Simon. What am I supposed to do?" Jim glared with an intense loathing unlike any Banks had witnessed first hand. He hoped he'd never see it again.

"Shooting was too easy for the son of a bitch." Taking a deep breath to ease the level of crippling hatred, he turned back toward Banks. "Let's go, Simon. Let the lab guys take care of this. I'll give a statement at the hospital. I have to be there when Blair wakes up."

Simon didn't bother to say if he wakes up. No way did he want to imagine what would happen if Sandburg didn't make it. Weary to his bones, Simon barked an order to Brown to take over and followed his man to the truck. God, he hated hospitals, but he hated funerals even more. He prayed for mercy and then he prayed for faith.

Jim paced the waiting room like a caged animal, his body so tense it might explode into molecular dust at any moment. During the last four hours he'd rarely spoken. He wore the torture of the wait as a giant penance, rubbing the leather of Blair's wallet like holy beads.

"Jim, why don't you sit down. It could be hours."

He ignored the words, but suddenly stopped and cocked his head. "The doctor's coming."

As if on cue, the surgeon entered the room carrying a clip board and chart. "Detective Ellison. Captain Banks. I'm Dr. Wallace. We met before Mr. Sandburg's surgery. He's still in recovery, but we should be able to move him to ICU in a few hours if there are no complications."

"How is he?" Jim could barely contain the tremor in his voice.

"His conditon is still very serious, but stable." Motioning to a nearby alcove, he continued, "Why don't we go over here for some privacy."

After they were seated, Wallace turned his attention primarily toward Jim. "You're listed as Mr. Sandburg's emergency contact. Since you're not related, what exactly is your relationship?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that? What's that got to do with how Blair's doing?"

"Settle down, Jim."

"I'm a cop. Blair's my partner and my best friend. So, we live together. You got a problem with that? No? Good. Now, please tell me how he is."

"I didn't mean to upset you anymore than you obviously are, detective. I just wanted to know the situation so I could have a better idea of what kind of support he's going to have. He's going to need a lot of it."

"I'm going to take care of him. He'll get anything he needs. Just tell me what's going on."

"He lost a lot of blood, which is what caused the shock. We repaired the physical damage by repairing the ruptured rectum and anal sphincter. The primary concern we have now is infection. We have him on massive antibiotics to control the peritonitis, which will most likely occur. There's also the possibility of nerve damage and/or adhesions, but we won't be able to assess that right away."

"What does that mean?"

"We'll talk about that later if it happens. No need to worry about it, if we don't have to. There's enough to deal with as is."

"I'd rather know what to expect, Doctor."

"Well, if there is nerve damage, he could have difficulty with control of the muscles or he might have complete numbness, which also would affect control. The adhesions caused by excess scar tissue can cause severe pain even after the other trauma has healed. Like I said, those are things we really can't predict for sure."

Jim closed his eyes for a moment as if to process the information. Then he asked, "What else?"

"The tearing of the nipple isn't serious, but painful. Again, we won't know about nerve damage until later. More serious was the bruising of the throat and larynx. Tubing was difficult because of the swelling. He may have trouble speaking for awhile."

Jim squeezed his eyes shut. A silent Blair added to his horror. Finally he whispered, "Anything else?"

Uneasily, Wallace shifted in his seat. "Obviously, in addition to the physical problems, your partner is going to have emotional trauma to overcome. In my experience with these kinds of assault cases, unless the person has enormous support, that's the most difficult thing to manage."

Seeing Jim at a loss for words, Simon asked, "What can we do to help, Doctor?"

"The best thing is be sure that he goes for counseling as soon as he's more physically able. He's going to have a tremendous number of issues to handle. As police officers, you've had extra training on how to recognize symptoms of depression, delayed stress, and the whole bundle of behaviors that signal danger. Be alert to them. I guess most of all, just be there and listen. See what he needs and focus on that. I'd also stronging urge Detective Ellison either to have sessions with him or in addition to his."

"I'm not the one who was attacked, Doctor."

"No, but you care for him and it won't be easy seeing him like this. Emotionally, you've been assaulted as much as he has."

Grunting and shaking his head, Jim spat out the words. "Not hardly."

"Don't underestimate how this will affect you. You can't help your partner if you can't deal with this yourself."

Angrily, he snapped, "I can deal with it. I don't need a lecture or anybody's help. Take care of Blair. When I want your help, I'll be dead."

"Jim, would you just shut up and listen for a minute." Shocked by his friend's vehement denial of his own needs, Simon reached over to touch him. He only jerked away.

"I'm okay, sir. I just have to focus on Blair."

"I understand, Detective. I'm sure you're pretty much overwhelmed by all of this." Dr. Wallace started to stand.

"When can I see him?"

"Not for several hours."

"But I need to see him." Wallace looked first at Jim, gauging the grief behind the plea, and then at Simon as though deliberating the overall situation. A brief nod from the Captain settled it.

"Okay, but not until he's been moved to ICU. I'll leave orders that you can be with him for no more than 10 minutes every two hours. I'll tell the nurse to come let you know when he's ready."

Simon rose and walked to the door leaving Jim sitting alone rubbing Blair's wallet with both thumbs. A bubble of quiet enclosed him as he waited. Raising the leather to his face, he could smell his friend. His tears mingled with the scent.

8 DAYS LATER

"Okay, Jim. I get it. You want me to see a shrink."

"Sandburg, it's not just me. The doctor said..."

"I don't give a rat's ass what the doctor said, Jim. I'm not ready to see anybody about this yet. Leave it alone."

His voice, still slighty raspy, was cut off by a series of brief coughs. Grimacing at the pain, Blair leaned back in the bed, his right arm up over his eyes blocking out the light. The bruises on his neck, yellowed and fading, still glowed in sentinel sight. Those marks bothered him more than the knowledge of all the other damage. He couldn't explain why. It nagged at the back of the mind, but the reason wouldn't show itself.

"We talked about this a few days ago, Sandburg. You agreed it wasn't a bad idea."

"I only said that so you'd stop bugging me about it. Now, why don't you go away for awhile? I'm tired."

"I thought I would stay awhile and get some files caught up."

Lifting his arm just slightly, Blair peeked out from under his elbow and studied his friend. Jim had lost weight, at least ten pounds, and dark circles accented steely blue eyes. "I don't need a baby sitter here. Besides this isn't your office last time I checked."

"I don't like leaving you here by yourself."

"What? You think some run amok nurse is going to sneak in here and force me eat my jello or something."

No easy smile graced his sentinel's beautiful face. With a softer voice, he said, "I'll be okay, Jim. If you don't go back to work, go home and get the loft ready. I'm coming home tomorrow."

Instead of a happy expression, Blair noted the immediate twitch that signaled concern. "What? Don't you want me back at the loft, Jim?" Anxiety laced his words.
"Of course, I want you there. I'm just afraid it's too soon. You're still just barely getting around."

"I get around fine. Besides, once the infection's better and the bowel function comes back on track, there's no reason to stay."

"I just worry about you, that's all."

"I know you do. But, you can't heal someone by zoning on him or turning into some kind of Siamese twin at his side. I mean, a lot of this is just going to take time."

Jim looked over, amazed at Blair's even, almost casual tone. It was almost like he was talking about someone else. "I know you're right. It's just that I'm still so scared that something else is going to happen."

"Short of dying, not much else could, Jim."

A slight flinch of shoulder muscle tattle-taled his reaction. "Don't kid about that sort of thing, Chief."

"I'm not joking. Now, go on get out of here. I've got a headache." He stopped and motioned to about twenty cut flower arrangements decorating and adding color to the room. "Probably all the smells coming off all these. It's enough to make a person gag. I'm surprised you're still standing."

"Dialed down."

"Yeah? Good job. Now if I could only teach myself to do the same. Tell you what. Why don't you see about having the nurses spread all these around on the floor. I mean they're nice and all, cost a bundle no doubt, but I sure as hell don't want to carry them all home."

He tried to puzzle out his guide's strange reaction to the tremendous show of support from all over the station. "I thought you liked flowers, Chief. Besides, they could brighten up the loft."

"No, Jim. If you don't take care of it, I will."

"What's going on? They're just flowers."

"Then what's the problem. Get them the fuck out here."

The sudden aggitation over something so small alarmed him. "Sure. Just settle down. I'll talk to Nurse Wilson."

After several moments of quiet, Blair spoke. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make it a big deal. I'm just tired. This medicine makes me really nauseous. Man, I'd rather just throw up and get it over with than do all this."

"Maybe the doctor could prescribe something to settle your stomach."

Incredible weariness tackled Blair as he lay watching and listening to his friend struggle desperately to find something he could do to make it all better.

"Yeah, maybe."

"I'll ask on the way out."

"Jim, go home. I'll see you in the morning."

Awkwardly, the detective nodded, picked up his stack of papers, and headed for the door. Hesitating, he turned back for a moment. "Want anything?"

"How about my life back?"

He might as well have shot Jim in the forehead with the kind of automatic kneejerk reaction he got. The sentinel's face flushed and his eyes misted over. Composing himself quickly, he merely said, "I was thinking more along the line of some pepperment tea, Chief."

Swallowing hard, Blair tried with all his might not to cry. He managed, but it was a very close call. "I'm really sorry, man. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why not? It's true. Your life's been totally fucked by this whole thing. None of it was your fault, but you're the one who's suffering for it. If you don't say it to someone, it'll just turn your guts to time bombs."

"You're suffering, too."

"I'm just worried about you. I care about how you're doing."

"Still can't say it, can you."

"What?"

"You still can't admit that you're in love with me." A statue stood by the door, leaning and roughly still.

"You know I love you. I told you that." Trying to play it off that he didn't understand the observation, he pushed open the door. "Now, you get some rest. I'll be here tomorrow morning around eight. The doctor should be in and out by then."

"Okay, but, Jim, try to get some rest, will ya. You're starting to look worse than the patients around here."

He nodded as he exited the room, closing the door quickly behind him. Letting himself relax slightly, he backed against the wall and crossed his arms tighty across the folders in his grip.

Fucking coward, Ellison. You promised to tell him the truth and here you are hiding in the hallway.

Then he started walking with the sudden overwhelming impulse to pulverize the mirror in the john. As the vision of shattered glass flashed in his mind, he realized he'd puke all over his shoes if had to take even one look at the dumbfuck in the looking glass.

The knock at the door interrupted Blair's staring off into space, which at the time seemed the safest place to be.

"Hey, Simon."

"Hey, Sandburg. How you doing?"

"Fine. How are things down at the station?" The dead, raspy quality of the voice troubled the Captain as he looked at the thin young man in the bed. Eyes dull, face slack--it certainly wasn't his personal image of Blair Sandburg, barely contain kinetic force of the universe. Then again, the kid had reason to be a bit subdued, more than a reason. Simon shook off the hateful shudder of memory.

"It's okay. Not the same place without you or Jim, but we're all hoping the two of you will be back on your feet and in gear just as soon as you're ready."

The curly brown head looked up and intense blue eyes focused. "What are you talking about, Simon? Hasn't Jim been going to work at all?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Definitely uneasy, Simon shifted foot to foot. "Jim's on forced leave until he's released for duty by the police psychologist."

"I don't understand. What happened?"

"I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

"You shouldn't be. Jim's not overly big on sharing his life and feelings with me right now. Now talk to me, Simon. I need to know."

"I was telling him about Young's tumor."

Blair flinched at the name. "What tumor?"

"The autopsy showed that Young had an inoperable brain tumor. Doctor said it was huge and probably accounted for his radical change in behavior the last few months."

"So, Young knew about this tumor?"

"According to Young's daughter he'd found out months ago, but refused to tell anyone so he could stay on the job."

"Nice guy. Always thinking of protecting the public."

"I'm sorry, Kid. I didn't mean to get into all this, but Jim's really having a lot of trouble with what's happened."

"No shit, Simon. We were thinking about starting our own club and support group."

"You have a right to be angry."

"Thanks so much for validating my feelings, Captain, but fuck that and tell me what happened with Jim. And don't give me the protect Sandburg with the digest version. I need to know all of it."

Ignoring the fierce hostility, Banks continued. "Right after I'd told him about Young, Johnson showed up trying to apologize."

"And Jim went off."

"You might say that. I thought he was going to kill him with his bare hands. It took four of us to get him contained. Personally, we might not even have been able to stop him if he hadn't zoned. The others just thought it was shock, but it was a zone. Took almost an hour for him to come out of it."

"Johnson going to press charges?"

"I convinced him that it wouldn't be in his best interest after all that's happened."

"Thanks."

"Jim's my friend, too. He'd been on desk duty since you were attacked. Then, after he went after Johnson I had no choice but to put him on medical leave pending evaluation by support services."

"So, has he been yet?'

"No, that's what I was going to ask you about."

Huge blue eyes turned away. "You want me to convince him to go."

"You're the only one who can. Besides, I was kind of hoping you'd go with him. Your doctor said you'd refused to see anybody."

A flush of brilliant red anger flared. Teeth clenched, words hissed. "You have no right to ask my doctor about that, no fucking right at all. I don't work for the force."

"You work with Jim and as long as you come along while he's working, then it is my business."

"Then maybe I won't be working with him."

"Listen, Blair, this isn't the time to be making that decision. You and Jim both have some major issues to iron out."

"Then it should be between us, not the whole fucking police force and every other asshole who thinks he knows how to run our lives."

"Okay, I can see this isn't getting anywhere. If you see Jim later, tell him I want him to call me."

"I told him not to come back tonight. If he's not at the loft, I don't know where he is."

"Right, well, I check there." Simon let the leaden weigh of indecision weigh down his tongue. He had more to say, but found words pain-heavy. "Blair, I never got a chance to say how sorry I am about what happened."

Blair concentrated full attention on his task of knotting the edge of the sheet. "It wasn't your fault, Simon. Leave it alone."

"But I just wanted to say I understand how upset you are."

"Yeah, well, until you get a fist shoved up your ass, I find that a little hard to believe. Nothing personal here, Simon, but I am not going to talk about this."

Defeated by the direct hit, Simon simply said, "I know there's nothing I can do except say I wish it hadn't happened." Silence, like a toothache, throbbed to be known. "I guess, I should go now."

"Good idea. Go find, Jim. Be his friend, Simon. Help him if you can, because, frankly, at this point, I'm not worth shit as his guide."

Leaving the room he glanced back before the door closed. Blair sat listless, staring into empty space, the bruise around his neck reminding him of a choke chain holding his friend to the wall. Jim Ellison had a mission ahead far more difficult than surviving any crash in Peru. With a final shake of his head, Simon went off on his own search and rescue.

Captain Simon Banks had never seen Jim Ellison truly and totally drunk. Sure, he'd seen him feeling happy with a few beers at Christmas parties or poker games, but nothing like what he found at the loft. Jim, best detective in Cascade, couldn't even solve the mystery of how to sit up straight on the couch.

"Damn it, Jim. Getting shit-faced isn't going to help anything. What the hell are you thinking?'"

"As little as I can get by with and still breathe. Besides, you suspended me. Go away."

"And at this rate you're going to stay off the job a lot longer than I can afford to lose you. Jim, you know this isn't the way to go with this."

"Do I? Do I truly know that?" He took another deep swallow of beer. "Well, fuck me, sir, apparently not." Finishing off the last of it, he dropped the empty bottle by the sofa and reached for another already at hand.

"Jesus, Jim, you want to tell me what this is really about?"

"How could you be a captain and not figure it out? I mean, you saw Blair in that cabin. You know what this is about."

"No, that's not all. Sure, what happened was horrible, unspeakable, but the Kid is going to be alright. It might take awhile, but I'm telling you he's a hell of a lot tougher than you seem to be these days."

"Yeah, well, he always was."

Seeing shoulders sag down at the words, tightened the Captain's gut. "Let me make you some coffee. We need to talk. Blair's coming home tomorrow and he needs you sober and ready to be there for him."

"Go away, Simon. I don't need your help."

"No? Beg to differ, my friend. I see a man on the edge. This is about more than the assault. Tell me what's really going on in that stubborn, truly confused brain of yours."

"Isn't what happened enough? My god, Blair almost died just because some asshole thought he was gay. I mean, how fucking sick is that? It's driving me crazy. I just don't get it. Blair's the most gentle person I know. He goes out of his way to put fucking crickets and spiders back outside rather than kill them for christsakes, and then something like this happens. How does that make any sense?"

"You're right. It doesn't."

"So, how am I supposed to deal with something that makes no sense?"

Simon sat down on the couch and watched his troubled friend struggle with grasping the mystery of prejudice. "Listen, there is no reason behind hatred and ignorance like this. It's the same thing that's been going on for centuries. Whether it's picking on some black kid just trying to get an education or attacking Blair because of the way he looks or because he's a Jew, it's all the same--stupid. It kicks you in the balls. All you can do is just survive and keep doing what you can to make it right."
Closing his eyes, Jim tried to block out the stabbing jets of pain whirling in a haze inside his head. After a few moments, he asked, "What am I going to do, Simon? I love him."

"Love him, Jim? Or do you mean you're in love with him?"

"Both." A few moments later, he groaned and curled down holding his stomach. "God, I must be really drunk to say that."

"Does it take getting totally bombed for Jim Ellison to finally admit the truth?"

"I'm sorry, Simon. This isn't easy for me."

"And you think it is for me? Or for Blair? Hell, Jim, does Blair know?"

"He says he does, but I've never told him, at least not while he was awake."

"Why not?"

"Because I couldn't face it."

Simon shook his head. "I don't get it? Is it because of pricks like Young or other buttfucks out there who still can't get past it? I mean, I honestly never thought I'd see you afraid of a what other people thought."

"Shocked the shit out of me, too. I've become the things I hate most, a hypocrite and a coward."

"You're neither of those things. You're one of the bravest, most honest men I know."

"Yeah, put on one hell of a good show didn't I, Simon? My public image is spotless. But in private, I'm truly fucked. I hate myself for feeling this way."

"What way?"

"Ashamed and afraid."

"Ashamed of what, your feelings for Blair?"

"I've never felt like this before, not even with Carolyn."

"And because he's a man, you're beating yourself up and getting drunk?"

"I always felt completely smug and safe knowing that I could talk about how it was okay to be gay, no problem, but now it's different. Now, I'm the target. My whole self-image is pretty much blasted to shit."

"Okay, I'm not going to sugar coat this. We both know that all this hate exists, but, Jim, so does love. I mean, Blair is a one and only treasure. Sure, you'll be targets, but there's no way Jim Ellison can't handle anything the public wants to dish out, especially with Blair Sandburg by his side."

"You really believe that?"

"Of course I do. I also know that's there's more bothering you than just fear of public exposure. I mean, being gay or bi doesn't carry the stigma it used to."

"Not unless you run across a Burt Young wannabe, huh?"

"Tell me the rest, Jim."

Jim carefully and deliberately placed the still full bottle of beer on the table before he finally spoke. "I'm afraid of my love for him."

"What are you talking about?"

"It consumes me. I denied my feelings for so long, but after the attack, there was no way I could keep on doing that. This feeling is so overwhelming, I can't control it."

"And that's what really scares you, isn't it, loss of control?"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"Then, Jim, I suggest you consult your guide. You found your way before because you let Blair help you. You gave complete trust to him. I saw you. How is this different? He'll be there for you."

"But he's got so much to worry about without this added to it."

Simon reached over to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder. This time the detective let it stay there while he listened. "Jim, don't you get it yet? You two are a team, partners. Whatever burden there is, it's divided between you. Together you'll overcome this."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Not likely. But, what you need to do is get sobered up and rested. Tomorrow you go get your partner and tell him how you really feel."

"I want to."

"Then do it, Jim. I never thought I'd ever push a guy at another guy, but you two belong together. Blair's one of a kind and so are you. Don't screw this up, man. I mean, I don't even have to ask how Blair feels about you, so there's no danger of rejection."

"Did he tell you that?"

"Didn't have to. I've got eyes, Jim."

Shaking his head in final resignation. "I guess it's settled then. Tomorrow morning when I've dried out, I'm going to go throw myself at the feet of my beautiful guide and hope he'll forgive my sorry ass."

"Forgive you for what, Jim?"

"Buying into my own punkass, butch cop public image."

The Captain smiled at the brief return of his friend's bitter humor. "Oh, I think Sandburg saw through that shit a long time ago. Otherwise he wouldn't have stayed this long. I think you're going to have to try a hell of a lot harder to get rid of him than by just being a dumbfuck."

Taking a deep breath, resolving to finally be honest about his feelings. "I need to go to the hospital tonight. I have to explain it all to him."

"No, Jim. Not tonight. Tonight I'm staying here while you go upstairs and sleep it off. Then in the morning when you've got him home and safe here in your private world, then you two can talk. Tell him all you've told me. He'll understand, but Jim, you also have to know, he's going to need help, too. I really don't think either of you can do all of this alone."

"I know. I guess we're both going to need to accept help. That's going to be rough, but I'm beginning to think we can do it."

"I do believe you're finally coming to your senses, Detective Ellison."

Jim snorted. "About fucking time, eh, Simon? About fucking time."

The End